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pearlispunk · 1 month ago

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Never took you for a pervert, Miller.

pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you borrow a jacket from joel, and it returns to him with a stain. he goes crazy over your scent, and he wants more. warnings / contents: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified (but legal!) age gap, brief mentions of alcohol, smut, f masturbation, dbf! joel, perv! joel, dom! joel, spanking, choking, dd/lg dynamic (kinda), daddy kink, praise kink, light dacryphilia, pet names, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it please!), creampie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 4k a/n: i recommend listening to every girl gets her wish by saint avengeline while reading this! it really sets up the whole vibe >< enjoy °༄ !

It all started with that damn jacket.

“It’s so cold, Joel. Please.” You whined, skin shuddering from the breeze. “Told you to bring a coat or somethin’, y’never listen.” He huffs, shedding off the outermost layer of his clothes. He holds it over you, eyebrows raised combined with pursed lips.

You smile at him, quickly grabbing hold of the jacket and putting it on. You waste no time, zipping up the front of the jacket and tugging the ends of it to try and fit your body. It felt huge wrapped around you– it extended past your torso, and you had to tug the sleeves up just to use your hands.

You looked so cute like this, he thinks for a moment, staring at you blankly. His eyes raked over you, eyeing you from head to toe. “Anyone ever tell you it’s bad manners if you stare?” Your voice chimes in like a chirp of a bird, and he’s back to reality.

He shakes his head, walking past you, “Shut up.” He mutters. And you smile.

You were fully aware of what effect you had on him. Ever since moving across his house a few months back, you’ve made it your life’s mission to make him fuck you.

It didn’t take long for him and your dad to form a friendship over football and beer. However, ever since meeting Joel, he was always just this stuck-up, grumpy– presumably lonely– middle-aged man to you. You were just determined to help him, what’s wrong with that? Every time your dad invited him over for dinners or outings, you made sure you wore something that caught his eye.

Even if that means wearing something skimpy during a cold weather.

“I’ll wash this up for you and bring it back tomorrow morning, promise!” You say, looking at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes. He nods, shaking his hand in the air, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Is it wrong that he turns you on?

Is it wrong that you’re thinking about getting stuffed full of his dick? Of his cum?

��Come on, girl.” He calls out to you, and you follow.

For the evening, your dad had invited him to an outing. A fancy word your dad uses for just ordering take-out and eating it in the truck by the woods. They talked for a while, with pauses and laughs in between.

“.. Anyway, I have to drive back to our old place tomorrow.” Your dad says, biting down on his food. You nod before tilting your head, “Why?” He finishes his food before wrapping the packaging and throwing it in a piece of plastic, “Forgot some of my boxes, kid.” He shrugs casually then turns to Joel, “Keep an eye on her, would ‘ya?”

When you get back home, you rush up to your room. You sigh in relief, welcoming the warm air while taking off his jacket. You lay down on your bed, holding the jacket close to you and taking a deep breath of his scent. It was so distinct, so unique, so.. him. Your fingers trace over the fabric, a mental image of him appearing in your head. Your breath hitches in your throat, and your other hand hooks your panties down.

You take a pillow, placing the jacket above it. You straddle over it, forcing the pillow between your thighs. You lean down, burying your face in the jacket as you start grinding on it. Your pussy rubs over the cloth of his jacket, and you can’t help but whimper at just the thought of that.

You were like a woman possessed, chasing your own high as you kept his jacket close. It didn’t take long– his scent drives you mad, almost crazy, and just a few moments later, you let yourself unravel. Sweaty and tired, you collapsed on top of the jacket, coating it with your sweat and essence.

You woke up in a panic, your dad’s knocking alarming you. You sit up straight, tossing the jacket to the side and yanking your blanket over your legs. “Yeah, dad?” You clear your own throat, stretching out your limbs. “Joel’s here, and I’m going.” He says from the outside of the door. “Alright, drive safe!” You call out.

You make out the thuds of his boots down the stairs. You then eventually hear the engine of his car. You look out your window, waving your hand as your dad honks the car before driving off completely.

You get up, picking a pair of shorts from your drawer and putting them on. You grab the jacket from the side of your room, sighing to yourself before stepping out. You walk downstairs to the smell of a fresh coffee pot and some pancakes.

“Figured you could eat somethin’.” Joel’s voice grounds you, his back facing you as he finishes cooking the last pancake. “Coffee’s there, if ‘ya want.” He points towards his right, the tone of his back muscles visible through his shirt. You nod, setting the jacket on one of the table chairs. You help yourself to a cup of coffee, taking a sip before sitting by the table. He turns around to face you before slipping the plate of pancakes in front of you.

“I have to head out to the hardware store, d’ya wanna come?” He asks, sitting on the chair across from you. You nod, taking a fork and getting a bite out of one of the pancakes, “Mhm. Should let me change though.” Your voice is muffled, you haven’t finished the bite. “Now, sweetheart, I believe it’s bad manners to talk with your mouth full.” He grins at you, a smug look spreading across his face.

You roll your eyes, swallowing it before locking eyes with him. “Let me shower and change, Miller.” He chuckles, nodding as he takes a bite of a pancake. You finish your cup of coffee along with the pancake with a satisfied hum before standing up.

Oh! You almost forgot his jacket.

You reach over to the hunched cloth on the chair, grabbing it and sliding it in front of him. You’re off to the shower now, your footsteps echoing throughout the hallway.

He swears you’re trying to fuck him over.

After your little banter, you slip him his jacket and you’re off on your feet. He shakes his head with a smile before his eyes glaze over his jacket.

Just as he was going to turn his gaze away, something caught his eye. A stain. A dried-up stain that left a darker patch on the hem of his jacket. It couldn’t be water, it would’ve dried up normally. He’s familiar with it. After fucking around with multiple women in a variety of compromising situations, he’s all too familiar with what it was.

Dirty. Fucking. Girl.

He takes a deep breath, the confines of his shorts tightening around his hardening erection. He looks down at it, shaking his head.

This is fucked. He thinks, his hand going down to palm his cock through his shorts. He grabs the jacket, bringing the stain close to his nose to get a whiff of it.

Fuck. You smelled amazing. Something sweet, something fresh. By now he’s rubbing his cock with his hand, hips bucking up into nothing.

“Joel! Mind handing me a towel?”

Your voice cuts through his heated session. A grunt caught in his throat, shaking his head and trying to shrug it off by clearing his throat. “Yeah, erm,” He lets go of the jacket, “Where?” He stands up quickly. “Should be one by my room.” You hum from the shower.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters to himself, dragging his feet up the stairs and towards your room. He creaks open the door, scanning the room for your towel. He sighs, walking in and looking at every corner. Your scent is everywhere, making his head spin and cock harder.

He finds your towel hooked on the back of your door, and relief washes over him. He grabs it hastily, pulling a top you discarded days ago with it. It drops down to his boots, and he stares at it. A white lacy tank top, one you wear at home only. He takes a deep breath, every fiber of his being screaming no.

This isn't right, he's too old for you.

He was just going to put it back where it came from. What’s the harm in that? He was just going to put it back nicely, as if this never happened. He scoops it up, the soft feel of the fabric a contrast to his rugged hands. Then it hits him. Your scent. He can smell it all over the top. Didn’t even need to bring it close to his nose to be able to get a whiff of it.

He folds it neatly before tucking it in his pants.

Oh, he was going to hell for this.

It took you days to notice that some pieces of your clothing went missing. First were the tank tops you wore at home, you always tucked them away by the first drawer of your cabinet. Second were the laced bras you bought from a city a long time ago, you mostly just use it when you’re out. Then finally, your favorite white lace thong.

Joel started to come over more frequently, always by the front door with a pack of beer. Your dad was more than happy to let him in. It was strange, some pieces of your clothing came back during the days Joel was over. You thought nothing of it.

Not until you saw him sneaking about the door of your room. He had just excused himself to go the the bathroom, a routine you picked up on ever since he came over more. It was like a tick in your brain– you just needed to know what he was truly doing in there.

Instead, you catch him by your room, thong in hand, nose-deep, and cock hard. You were by the lower part of the stairs, enough to get a good view of what he was doing. Your eyes widen in shock, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

You had him hooked.

Joel knew how fucked up it was. He was inviting your dad for drinks and a good time, only for his main objective to be to sneak into your room and snatch a few pieces of your garments. All for what? Jerking himself off late at night, when all of his pillows are covered in your scent, when all he can think about is the way your hips move, the way your tits bounce.

He knew how fucked up it was, cumming on your garments, moaning your name, and imagining how sweet your pussy would feel wrapped around his cock. He knew how fucked up he was.

But it was better than actually touching you, than actually crossing the line and fucking his friend’s daughter. He kept a safe distance, he kept boundaries, and he made sure he never stepped the line. So, surely, this was better, right? He’d slip into your room, grab a bra, a thong, or a top, and he’d be satisfied. And that was enough.

It had to.

But goddamn you were making it hard. You were making him really hard.

You knew how to push his buttons, knew how to drive him to his limits. Every outfit you put on for him just got more and more enticing. And for tonight, his eyes are now shamelessly scanning every curve and dip of your body.

The hour was late, your dad had excused himself to his room– his head was hurting. It was only you and him now, sitting on the couch, in front of the television. The past few moments were pure torture for him. Every skin-on-skin contact with you made him go crazy, and every time you walked past him, he could just inhale your scent.

He has one of the couch pillows set over his thighs, a weak attempt to cover up the hard-on he earned just by looking at you. Your eyes were glued to the screen, a knowing smile displaying itself on your lips.

20 minutes pass, and so far, he wouldn’t budge off the couch or even get a new bottle of beer. “Would you like a new one?” You turn your head towards his direction. He hums, nodding, “Mhm, sure.” You walk over to the table, grabbing a new bottle of beer before walking back to him. You bend over a bit, handing it out to him.

His eyes lock in on your chest, the soft flesh of your boob peeking out through your low-cut top. And for a moment, he stays like that, mind completely distracted by the view in front of him. “Joel?” You ask innocently, beer bottle still in hand. He clears his throat, nodding his head before taking it out of your hand.

He quickly takes a sip, trying to focus on what shows the television is playing. You smile to yourself, taking a seat beside him. You have a finger over your mouth– you feel the tension, and you scooch closer to him. “What’re ‘ya doin’, kid?” He asks, his voice low, eyes never leaving the screen. “It’s cold.” You shrug.

He turns his back on you, his body facing the other way. Your eyes graze down on his back, admiring the way his muscles bulge through his shirt. Then, you catch a glimpse of your thong in his back pocket.

That was it.

“You know, it’s weird..” You start, looking at him. He looks over at you with his eyebrows raised, “Hm? What is?” You hook your finger on it, pulling it towards you in one swift motion. You dangle it in front of him, a smug look on your face.

“Never took you for a pervert, Miller.”

He looks at you, eyes wide with shock as his grip on the pillow tightens. “M’kay- fuck, I can explain–” He starts, standing up and letting the pillow fall to the ground. Your eyes lock with his boner, a smile forming on your lips. “Yeah?” You tilt your head to the direction of his boner.

His eyes look down for a second, assessing himself. He sighs, running a hand over his face. “Been sneaking around and stealing my things when you could’ve just asked nicely.” You tut, standing up on your feet. “I know you want to fuck me, Joel.” You take a step closer to him. He looks at you, unsaid thoughts crossing over his eyes. He sighs before shaking his head.

“Not here.” Is all he says before picking you up and placing you over his shoulder. You giggle quietly, feet dangling in the air as he makes his way to your room. He fumbles with the door knob before clicking it open and setting you down on the bed. He locks the door behind him, turning around to face you properly.

You’re on your knees, fingers hiking up and glazing over your thighs. He eyes your movements, shaking his head. He walks closer to you until all you can see in front of you is just his tall frame. He grabs your chin, forcibly tilting your head to make you look at him. You don’t utter a word, your eyes scanning the entirety of his face.

“Makin’ it so fuckin’ hard to control myself around you, angel.” He rubs his thumb by your bottom lip. You poke your tongue out, eventually taking his thumb in your mouth. “Just so happens you don’t have enough clothes to cover yourself with when ‘m around, is that it?” He looks at you with a dark gaze, his other hand reaching to unbuckle his belt. You nod, the sides of your lips curling into a smile.

He takes his thumb out, tossing his belt to the side. He sits down on the edge of the bed before unbuttoning his pants.

“Bend.”

His voice drops an octave lower, his hand gesturing to his lap. You’re dumbfounded, lips parted with shock. “What are ‘ya, deaf?” He glares at you. You shake your head and do as you’re told, bending over his lap. He yanks your cotton shorts down, the cold air hitting your bare ass. “No panties?” He asks, his hand groping and getting a feel of your ass. You shake your head, squirming under his touch.

You flinched as the sharp sound echoed throughout your room, a sting following– hot and immediate.

“Words, baby. Let me hear ‘ya.” His gruff voice cooed from above you, his hand soothing over your flesh. “Deliberately wearin’ nothin’, hm? Is this for me, angel?” His fingers rub against your pooling hole. “Y-Yes.” You shook out the word, your hands pressing against his thighs.

Another slap. “Yes what?” Oh, he sounds pissed.

“Yes d-daddy-!” You whimper, your knees pressing together. He leans down on you until his lips are just by your ear, “Now you’re gonna have t’be quiet if you want me to fuck ‘ya properly, understood?” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. You nod your head, a tear slipping out of your eye. “Aw, poor baby.” His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping your tear away, “Does it hurt?” He hums. “N-No daddy, promise!” You say earnestly, trying your best to be good for him.

“Count for me, sweet girl.” He orders, his tone leaving no room for protest.

His hand landed on the flesh of your ass, sharp and unyielding.

“O-One.” Your voice trembled under the contact.

“Wearin’ nothin’ but short skirts and cropped tops, tryin’ to kill me.”

The next landed with no hesitation, your cheeks retracting at the contact.

“Two!” You bite your lip, muffling your whimpers.

“Intentionally wearin’ nothin’ underneath those pretty white bottoms.”

The next was harder than the last, more painful– the impact of it spreading heat through your skin.

“Three..!” By now you were crying, your pretty pink cheeks glistening with tears. He pulls your body against his, letting you lean against him. His hands were brushing against your ass, a tender touch– a contrast to his earlier actions. “Did so good for me, angel.” He kisses your cheek, his arms wrapping around your waist, “Makin’ me so proud.”

You straddle on his lap, taking one of his legs between your thighs. You start moving, eager for the friction. “What’s this? Pretty baby beggin’ to get fucked?” He coos against your ear, the palm of his hand on the back of your head. “Y-Yes please, please.. been so g-good for you..” You whine, moving your hips faster. His hands travel back to your waist, holding you in place before flipping you over and letting you lay on your back.

He pulls away, tugging his pants along with his boxers. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, long and girthy, twitching and begging to get buried inside of you. Your legs unconsciously spread open, your pussy all on display for him. He smiles at you, leaning over you before kissing your forehead.

“Keep quiet. Think you can do that f’me, baby?” He whispers, his hands on the back of your knees. You nod, your pussy pulsing against the tip of his cock. He leans down, pressing your thighs to your chest as he pushes his cock deep into you. Your knees touch your shoulders, and your hands find their way to his.

Your pussy is stuffed, and you lightly tap him as a signal for him to give you a few seconds to adjust to his size. “Little girl taking me in so well.” He breathes, his hips staying in place. You bite down on your bottom lip, trying your hardest not to make a sound.

Just when you thought he was all in, his hips pressed further against you, driving the extra inches of his cock inside you. “D-Daddy..” You hiccup, tears flowing from your eyes as your legs tremble in pleasure. “I know baby, I know.” He kisses the tips of your eyes, nodding, “Don’t worry. I’ll stretch you out real good, angel.” He whispers by the side of your ear. “Have you beggin’ for more in no time, you want that, yeah?” He lets out a low moan, burying his cock deeper. You try to relax your body, nodding at his words.

His grip on your legs tightens, his hips rocking into you. A moan slips out of your mouth, and he’s quick to cover it with his hand. You look up at him, beads of sweat forming around his forehead, some of his hair sticking on his skin. He looks down at you, his eyes gazing at your chest– your hardened nipples moving against the fabric of your top. He removes his hands from the back of your knees, relocating them to grope on your tits.

He grabs the fabric, tearing it into two impatiently. You gasp at the contact, his hips snapping rapidly as he grunts by your ear. Your tits bounce, and this only fuels him further, “You’re so beautiful, angel,” He praises, peppering kisses on your hands, “Always so good for me.” Your legs hook around his waist, his other hand making its way to your neck. He puts pressure on your airflow, your hands wrapping around his arm.

The obscene sound of your squelching pussy and his invading cock fills the room, and you start to feel light-headed. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching against his towering body. You clench around his cock, your legs pulling him closer to you. “Need me buried deep in your pussy, yeah, angel?” He smirks, his other hand teasing your nipples. Your pussy pulses with his words, your head nodding frantically. “M-Mhm- mmfh..”

“You needed this so badly, huh?” He asks, his fingers glazing over your clit. You buck your hips up, desperate for his touch. “So pretty for me.” He rubs your clit with a soft and teasing touch. “M-More.. pleasepleaseplease– hngh–” You gasp, “So close, daddy!” He nods, adding more pressure to your clit.

He looked so perfect right between your thighs, his large frame towering over yours, his hands exploring your body. His hips staggered, “This pussy is mine, understand me?” He lets go of your neck, hands pushing the back of your thighs to your chest. You nod, biting your lip while tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “D-Da- haaah– yours, all y-yours..!” He speeds up the pace, his fingers working their way on your clit.

Your hands fall to your sides, your mind solely focusing on your release. “Just needed t’be fucked stupid.” He whispers, pulling his cock out before slamming it back in. Your back arches, and you’re met with your release. His hands land on your hips, pulling you towards him as he thrusts his cock into you one last time.

He holds you still, his hands kneading on your hips as he leans over you. You feel his cum seep into you, steady ropes of it shooting inside you. He keeps still, making sure that you got every last drop. You feel breathless, your hands finding their way to his chest.

He brings one of your hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your fingertips. “So good for me, sweetheart.” He pulls out, collapsing by your side. He snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

He scans your face, his hand cupping your face. He rubs his thumb over your cheek, leaning closer to kiss it. He was so tender, so sweet with you– like you were the most precious thing to him. His hand rests over the back of your head, cradling you to his chest. You sigh contently, your eyes fluttering as your breathing steadies itself.

He kisses the top of your head, muttering sweet nothings and praises as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

Every girl gets her wish.

white lace divider by @chilumitos , cupid divider by @ioveartfilm ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: my second work! tried to do something new DOMJOELAHA, please feel free to correct me about any mistakes i made! i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! reblogs, comments, likes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

tags ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joelsdagger @joelmillerpascal @joelmillerihardlyknowher @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk @lover-of-books-and-tea @joyceyayo @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @anenay @ashleyfilm @inept-the-magnificent @skullieispunk @iknowisoundcrazyreads @callsignmedusa @pixelspunk @puduvallee

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itneverendshere · 4 months ago

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we say we’re different but we got the same eyes - r.c

pairing: bitchy!pogue!reader x rafe

you needed to stop taking other people shift’s.

it’s not like you wanted to, but at least they were paying you to do so, enough to let you actually chill this summer without stressing about rent or whatever else adulthood decided to throw at you.

all you had to do was show up and do the job. first at lila’s dinner, now at the bougie country club, as a cart girl.

you’d done this before, and sure, the old men were always a little too handsy with their beer guts hanging over their tacky polos, but at least they tipped well. you could tolerate them. smile, giggle at their half-assed jokes, and let them feel like they still had it.

fine. pay me for my pain, grandpa.

today however, instead of your usual sugar-daddy wannabes, you were babysitting frat boys. fresh out of their first year of college, probably still hungover from their last keg stand.

nineteen-year-old idiots in pastel shorts and backwards hats, making everything about themselves.

“bro, you remember that party at kappa? dude, swear i blacked out after like, five shots.”

wow, five whole shots? congrats, you absolute child. should i get you a sticker for that?

don’t even get started on their conversations about girls. one of them, chad or brad or whatever his stupid name was, just had to loudly detail how some poor innocent girl “totally wanted him last night but was playing hard to get.”

yeah, bro, she was probably just trying to get through the night without having to mace your entitled ass.

it was constant. the whole damn morning. all they talked about was frat parties, girls they didn’t deserve, and how they "couldn’t wait to get back to school."

you'd give anything to remind them how utterly irrelevant their frat status was in the real world, but you couldn’t. nope. you had to keep your game face on, pour their drinks, and pretend like they weren’t giving you a headache that rivaled your worst hangovers.

at least the elderly snobs tipped well. sure, they were pretentious and acted like you were beneath them, but they'd slip you a twenty or more with a smug little wink. that made it easier to tolerate their "i’ve been golfing here since before you were born" bullshit.

but these brats?

half the time they forgot to tip at all, and when they did remember, it was a crumpled five like they were doing you some grand favor. and of course, of course, they couldn’t just keep their obnoxious, beer-breath comments to themselves. no, they had to make it worse by hitting on you—hard.

painfully hard. it was like watching a car crash in slow motion, except instead of pulling over to help, you were stuck right in the middle, praying someone would just tow your ass out.

“yo, what’s your name again?” one of them asks. bryce, probably. his face just screams bryce.

he's leaning against the cart like he thinks it's going to make him look cool, but really, he’s just sloshing his drink all over the place. classy.

“it’s on my name tag,” you deadpan, pointing to the little badge pinned to your polo. you're not about to give him any more than that.

but he's not letting it go. “oh yeah? cute name for a cute girl. you single or what?”

jesus christ. here we go.

you resist the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of your head.

“’m here to work,” you sigh, voice sweet enough to mask the absolute disdain you're feeling. you know what comes next.

they always think they can charm you if they just keep going, like you are some kind of challenge.

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” another one chimes in, this one wearing sunglasses even though it's barely 9 a.m.

who do you think you are, pitbull?

he gives you this sleazy grin like he thinks he's smoother than he actually is. “we could take you out after your shift. grab a drink. bet you’re fun, huh?”

fun? FUN?! if by fun he means fantasizing about driving this cart straight into the water hazard just to escape this conversation, then sure, you're a real blast.

you look around the course, hoping maybe one of the older golfers needs a refill or something—anything to get you away from this nightmare. no luck. it's just you and these clowns.

“i don’t date customers,” you say, a line you’d perfected at this point.

you plaster on your fakest smile, the kind that said please tip me and then leave me the hell alone. but bryce wasn’t giving up.

“you’re really gonna turn us down? i mean, we’re the best thing on this course right now.”

best thing?

the only thing they're the best at seems to be embarrassing themselves. this is the type of guy who probably thinks buying a girl a drink meant she owns him something.

you can't even be mad; it's almost... sad. almost.

“maybe you should focus on your game,” you suggest, glancing at his scorecard. “you’re, what, ten over par already?”

that shuts him up real quick, his face going from cocky to confused like he didn't expect you to know how golf worked.

his friend with the sunglasses? he's still trying.

“we can show you a good time, y’know. we’ve got a house down on the beach. you like boats?”

ah, yes. the boat move. the go-to for guys who think a half-assed yacht and a cooler full of cheap beer is the height of luxury.

you’d seen it a million times in this godforsaken town.

you're not impressed.

you shoot them another smile, “i like tips.”

they all blink confusedly, clearly not used to a girl calling them out so directly. the frat boys mumble something between themselves, looking awkward for the first time all day.

finally, one of them fishes a crumpled twenty out of his pocket and tosses it your way.

oh, wow, big spender.

you scoop it up, shoving it into your pocket and giving them a little nod. “thanks, boys. good luck with your game.”

you thought the twenty bucks might’ve bought you a few minutes of peace, but no. they're back at it, swinging at golf balls like they aren't trying to flirt in between their awful shots.

you roll the cart over to the next part of the course, half-listening to their constant chatter.

something about “last semester” this, and “pledge party” that. god, they just never stop. it's like someone hit the repeat button on the world’s most annoying playlist.

one of them calls you over again, like he can't wait five minutes for his next drink. you start prepping them, half tuning them out, just trying to get through it, when suddenly, miraculously, they shut the hell up.

for a second, you think maybe the universe is finally doing you a favor. you don't even question it, just start pouring drinks faster.

a quiet frat boy is a gift. but then you hear it:

“dude!” one of them practically tackles the other, all wide-eyed and hyped up like a little kid who just saw his favorite cartoon character. “is that rafe fucking cameron?!”

oh, for fuck’s sake.

your stomach drops. of course it has to be him. because clearly, your morning isn't being shitty enough. you don't even look at first.

one of the guys starts flipping out, hitting his buddy’s shoulder like it's the coolest thing to ever happen.

“bro, no way. no way. that’s rafe cameron? he used to be the president of our frat, man. two years ago! he’s a fucking legend!”

legend? you almost laugh.

the only legend rafe is to you it's a legendary asshole. a smug, infuriating, gorgeous asshole who you have been avoiding like the plague. the same one who has been blowing up your phone nonstop, trying to get back into your life.

the same one you swore down you’d never sleep with again after he pulled that stunt at the dinner—and then, of course, ended up in his bed two nights ago. you haven't spoken to him since. you’d been ignoring him again—well, trying to—but now here he is. in the flesh. and these idiots are drooling over him like he's some kind of frat god.

you turn your head, and he's striding across the green like he doesn't have a care in the world. of course he looks good. he always does.

wayfarer’s pushed up in his hair, that cocky-ass grin on his face, wearing a polo like he's the face of a country club catalog. you know he’d see you any second. hell, he probably already has.

yeah, you’d been avoiding him, and yeah, maybe you’d blocked his number twice, but that didn’t stop him from calling with a different one. or from somehow finding you the other night at the party when you were weak enough to let him back in, only to get burned again.

“holy shit, he’s coming this way,” one of the frat boys mutters, shaking with excitement.

you don't move, don't acknowledge him. but you can feel his eyes on you. it's like a sixth sense at this point. you'd crave it so much before, when it was all a silly game in your head, see how much you could push until he cracked and gave into you. now it's a curse.

the boys are watching him approach like he's some kind of celebrity.

“should we say something to him?” one whispers. “i heard he’s like, killing it in the business world now. family’s loaded.”

yeah, you think bitterly. killing it. if you count being a trust fund brat as an accomplishment.

rafe's closer now, and you know this moment is inevitable. the frat boys are giddy, already nudging each other, probably ready to beg him for networking advice or whatever the hell frat bros did.

you keep your eyes down, focusing on pouring the drinks, acting like you don't even notice him. like he doesn't phase you in the slightest.

“hey,” a familiar voice drawls. you don't have to lift your head to know it's him. naturally, he stops right by you. because why wouldn’t he?

“rafe fucking cameron!” one of the guys yells, unable to keep it together anymore. “you’re like a legend, man. kappa forever!”

you never cringed so hard in your life.

rafe smirks, that signature look spreading across his face. “yeah, somethin' like that.”

you clench your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your face neutral. no way in hell are you about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he still gets to you.

everyone else around you are tripping over their words just to get his attention. it's embarrassing to watch. the kids acting like he's some kind of messiah, not just some white rich guy with a trust fund and a bad attitude half the time.

“man, the outer banks is fucking sick,” one of them says, bouncing on his feet like an overexcited puppy. “we’ve been hitting the beaches, bars, y’know, living it up. and bro, the girls here? smoking hot.”

here we go.

you pretend to be very invested in the cooler, rearranging the ice just to keep your hands busy. they're about to start pointing at you any second now; you can sense it.

the way they keep looking over at you made it obvious they're gearing up for something.

and then, like clockwork, it happens.

“yeah, man,” one of them gestures way too enthusiastically in your direction. “that cart girl over there? we’ve been trying all morning.”

oh, fuck right off, you resist the urge to throw a bottle at him.

you’d rather die than hear what lame pickup line is coming next, but what you really don't want to hear is whatever rafe's about to say.

there was a pause, as if he's taking a second to let it sink in. and when he finally does speak, his voice is all smooth confidence, casual as anything.

“so,” he starts, still with smirk you hate and know so well, “you’ve met my girl?”

my girl? my fucking girl?

one of them, manages to stammer, “uh—wait, she’s… she’s your girl?”

you can feel the tension creeping up the back of your neck. this's exactly why you’ve been avoiding him.

no matter what happened between you, no matter how messy things got, he always acted like he owned you in private. never in front of his friends, like just because you ended up in his bed, you were his to claim whenever he felt like it.

still keeping your eyes glued to the drinks, you feel your blood boil. you aren't his fucking girl. you're barely on speaking terms, aside from that one weak moment.

he's only saying it to mess with you.

one of the frat boys lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed. “damn, man. didn’t know you were still pulling like that.” he shoots a glance at you again, not even bothering to hide the once-over.

rafe just chuckles, that low, infuriating laugh of his, like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. “what can i say?” he drawls, as if the whole thing is just a game to him. “guess i’ve still got it.”

you're this close—this close—to snapping. you can feel your fists clenching at your sides. you're not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. not here. not in front of these frat boys who're still looking at you like some kind of trophy.

rafe’s voice is closer now. you don't have to look up to know he's standing right by the cart.

“you good over there?” he asks, that fake casual tone still lingering.

you don't answer. just kept doing your job, biting the inside of your cheek so hard it hurts. but he isn't going to let it go. he never did when he wanted to prove a point.

“hey, baby.” he greets you again, leaning in slightly. you can feel his eyes burning into the side of your face. “you gonna pretend you don’t know me now?”

you take a deep breath, finally turning to face him. he's standing way too close, sunglasses pushed up on his head, that stupid expression plastered across his face.

the frat boys are all watching, wide-eyed, like they just stumbled onto some kind of reality show drama.

“you’re funny, cameron.” the guys all exchange glances, clearly picking up on the tension but too dumb to understand it, “can you guys give us a minute?”

one of them pipes up with an awkward laugh, “wait, but we—”

you don't let him finish. “one. minute.”

they finally catch on that it isn't a request and before they can awkwardly protest or ask why, rafe tilts his head towards them, craning his neck just enough to raise a single brow. the change in his posture is subtle but enough to have them clamming up instantly.

like magic, their frat-boy bravado melts right off. it's wild how fast a bunch of college boys can shrink under the gaze of someone like him.

the power trip they’ve been riding for the last hour stop.

“uh, yeah, you know what?” one of them coughs out, backing up so fast he almost trips over his golf bag. “we should, uh… we’ll hit the bathroom. real quick.”

“yeah, yeah, we’ll be right back,” another one adds, practically stumbling over himself to follow.

they scatter like scared puppies, tails tucked between their legs, and you can't help the small, satisfied smirk that twitches at the corner of your mouth.

finally, a moment of peace.

except, it's not peace. not with rafe standing there.

as soon as the frat boys are out of earshot, you spin around, without thinking, you shove him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to catch him off guard. he stumbles back a step, his face twisting into a look of surprise.

"are you fucking crazy?" you snap, "do you not get the fucking hint, country club? i don’t want this. i don’t want you here, and i sure as hell don’t want your bullshit claims that ’m your girl in front of those idiots. leave. me. alone.”

he steadies himself, raising both hands as if trying to calm you down. “’m trying to be better, okay? ’m trying. i apologized the other night, didn’t i? ’m—”

“no, you didn’t!” you look at him like he's the dumbest man on earth, cutting him off, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “you didn’t apologize! you said i was overreacting, that i was being ‘dramatic.’ then, you fucked me and acted like that made it all better.”

his jaw tightens, and he takes a deep breath as he glances around the mostly empty golf course before his eyes move back to you, his voice low but firm. "that’s not how i meant it—"

“you always have an excuse,” you interrupt, stepping closer, not backing down. “every time, it’s the same thing. you think a half-assed apology or a night in bed makes up for the way you treat me in public? like ‘m just some thing you get to claim whenever you feel like it?"

he visibly recoils at the word you chose, like it hurts him, “i know,” he finally mutters “i know i was a dick at that dinner. but ’m trying, okay? i’ve been calling you, texting you—”

“i didn’t ask. am i that good in bed? go find someone else.”

rafe’s hand flies up to pinch the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh escaping him. he draggs his tongue against his cheek. his voice coming out clipped, “i don’t want someone else,” he grunts out, sounding more exasperated than ever. “jesus fucking christ.”

you let out a laugh, stepping back, eyes rolling.

“oh, right. that’s it? ’m really that good in bed, huh? that’s why you’re here?” you cross your arms, your tone biting, daring him to say otherwise. “that’s all this has ever been, right? physical. you don’t call unless you want something. so what now? why are you trying so hard? what the hell are you trying for?”

he doesn't respond right away, his fingers are digging into the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold himself together. the silence continues, and you can see him wrestling with his words. he's never been the type to say what he was feeling.

everything is buried under layers of cocky bravado, that impenetrable wall he put up to keep everyone at arm’s length. including you.

finally, he dropps his hand and takes a step closer, his voice coming out rough like he's forcing the words out. “’m here because i don’t want someone else. i want you, alright? can you just get that through your fucking head?”

you scoff, “because i know you and won’t get attached?”

he snaps, raising his voice, “no! fuck, it’s not that simple.”

"not that simple?" your hands are shaking, and you accidentally knock over one of the bottles you’d been holding before, sending it tumbling to the ground. you don't bother picking it up.

“it’s pretty fucking simple. we’re just fucking. so, tell me, what exactly is complicated about that? you call, i come over, we have sex, and that’s it. so why the fuck do you start ignoring me in public like ’m some kind of fucking disease?”

rafe opens his mouth, but you don't spare him the chance to speak, you're on a roll, months of pent-up frustration.

“i don’t give a fuck if you’re with someone else, rafe!” you can hear the bitterness dripping from every word. you're practically spitting them out, “what pisses me off is that you had the audacity—the fucking nerve—to ask me to stay that night. do you know how fucking stupid i felt? how the fuck do you think i felt when you acted like i didn’t exist the next day?”

you can feel your hands trembling again, the adrenaline making you shaky, cursing under your breath.

“for once, i was nice enough to care about you, to stay, and that’s the shit you pulled. treated me like a ghost. like i was nothing.”

he just stands there, staring at you, his jaw tight, but he doesn't say a word. his face is hard to read, but you don't care about his feelings. you're not done yet.

“i was fine with the sex. i was fine with leaving afterwards and then you had to go and fuck it all over.”

rafe’s blue eyes flash, and you can see the realization hit him, like he's connecting the dots too fast for your liking.

his brows furrow as he breathes out, “wait. you’re mad at me because i made you—” he hesitates, like the word is foreign in his mouth, “care for me?”

you let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “oh, for fuck's sake, country club. don't flatter yourself.”

“you always do that shit,” he points out, stepping closer “you never call me by my name when we’re having a serious conversation. it's almost like you’re running away.”

you arch an eyebrow, incredulous. “are you delusional? you’re the one acting like a child.”

“’m not being delusional. you only say my name in my room when it’s just the two of us.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if he's trying to keep this moment between you, his blue eyes lock onto yours making your stomach twist. “’m clearly not the only one who’s pretending here; you’re just as bad.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks as you walk back, trying to create space, but he closes the distance with easy confidence.

“pretending? please. ‘m not the one playing house in my bedroom while acting like i don’t know you outside of it.”

rafe lets out a low, frustrated groan, running his hand through his hair like he's close to losing it.

“god, you’re fucking infuriating,” he mutters, voice gruff, “you think i don’t fucking feel it too? you’re the only one pissed off, the only one confused?” his voice dipps lower in frustration. “i can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard i try. "

“oh, boo-fucking-hoo,” you mocked back, “must be so hard, huh? being obsessed with a girl you can’t even respect in public.”

his hand reaches out to grab your wrist. you gasp, not out of fear but because the heat of his touch awakes the resting butterflies in your stomach. you hate how much your skin reacts to him, how just the feel of his grip makes your brain go foggy and shut down.

“i do respect you,” he growls, as if you just insulted him, “i just—fuck.” his eyes dart between yours, as if searching for something. then, like clockwork, he points at your work uniform—the stupid polo and that absurdly short skirt that's practically a sin in itself.

“this,” he grits out, fingers gesturing to the tight polo that does absolutely nothing but make your boobs look way too inviting, “is not okay.”

you blink, pretending to be unaffected, but his words have a way of crawling under your skin.

“oh, right,” you nod sarcastically, even though your pulse has kicked up a notch. “blame my uniform, like that’s the reason you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

rafe groans like you're causing him actual physical pain, his hands gripping the edge of the golf cart now, knuckles turning white.

“shit, yeah, i’ll blame the uniform,” he says, eyes blazing as he corners you. “that tiny-ass skirt, walking around in front of me all day, making me lose my goddamn mind.”

just like that, his hand slide right under your mini skirt, his fingers gripping a handful of your ass with a confidence that makes your breath hitch.

the sudden contact sends a rush of heat through you, and a soft gasp escapes your glossy lips.

that’s when he takes his chance.

with another low groan, rafe seizes the moment, pressing his body against yours, leaning down as he kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, the kiss deepening in an instant.

it's not sweet—you can tell that now because you know that hidden part of him, you can tell the difference when it comes out. today he's desperate like he’s been waiting to it for days and can't take it anymore.

he's a starved man on a mission. it's a feverish mess of spit and teeth, his grip on you impossibly tight.

his hand still kneads your ass, blunt fingernails digging into your skin trying to keep you from bolting away. at the same time, his other hand slides up to your neck, firm but not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you locked in place—he's daring you to pull away, knowing full well you won't.

logic doesn't stand a chance against the way his lips move against yours, he's sucking all the fight from you.

his tongue slides against yours, and your stomach jumps at the sensation, making you gasp. you try to pull back for a second, needing air, needing space, but his grip on your neck tightens, holding you in place as his lips move against yours like he'll die if you stop.

and maybe he would. maybe he's just as messed up about all of this as you are.

rafe’s teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and right then and there, you know your panties are already ruined. you can't stop the small whimper that escapes your throat, and he moans at the sound, his hips pressing harder against yours, making you feel just how much he wants you.

“fuck,” he almost whines against your lips, like he's barely keeping himself from fucking you out there in the open, not giving a shit if anyone's watching. his hand on your neck glides around to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he tuggs slightly, tilting your head back so he can kiss you even harder, his lips moving against yours in a way that makes it impossible to think straight. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

the truth is, you do. you know exactly what you do to him because he's doing the same thing to you.

but there's no way in hell you’ll admit that. not when he already has you completely under his spell, melting into his touch, drowning in the way he kisses you like he owns you.

you attempt to hold onto that edge of disdain you always throw his way when things get too personal. his breath is hot and ragged as he hovers.

his hand, still tangled in your hair, loosens slightly but stays there. it's so fucking unfair—the way he just sneaks under your skin, the way your body betrays you every time he gets close. you hate it.

especially with the way his fingers are already sliding up your bare thigh under that ridiculously skirt, as if he owns every single inch of you, like he has a goddamn right to touch you like that.

and instead of pushing him away like you should, you find yourself leaning into him. and fuck, the look in his eyes—all black, wild, like he it's his last shred of self-control—is enough to make your pulse skyrocket.

“asshole,” it comes out weak, pathetic and almost breathless, and you hate yourself for it.

“yeah,” he whispers back, lips brushing yours, his hand still in your hair, still holding you close. “but you like it.”

god, maybe you did.

the frat boys finally return, their laughter breaking the bubble that had you on a leash.

within seconds, you're pushing rafe’s hands away, stepping back as of them claps him on the back.

“we miss anything?”

“nah, just catchin’ up,” rafe said, brushing off the whole thing as if it's no big deal.

you, on the other hand, pick up one of the empty glasses, avoiding eye contact with any of them.

one of the guys chuckles. “man, you two… y’all good?”

no. not when there's the slightest of the slightest possibility that you're starting to feel something for him. not the stupid crush you had before, or the simple curiosity of figuring out how he was in bed.

real, scary, big girl feelings.

no way. not after everything. not after he pulled that same crap, acting like you didn’t know you in front of his friends, then turning around and getting all possessive when it suited him.

“better than ever.”

eyes locked on rafe, you bite out the final blow.

“yeah, better than ever. just like every other fucking rich frat boy—using daddy’s money, pretending you’re a god. but deep down, you’re all the same. losers. why don’t you keep them company, huh? you’re all family after all.”

his blue eyes drop to the green field at the mention of his dad, but he keeps quiet despite realizing you’re doing this on purpose.

he’ll let you have this one because he knows it’s deserving. fuck he’d probably let you punch him in the face if you asked him to.

you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving him behind, knowing you hit him exactly where it hurt.

1K notes · View notes

saetoru · 1 year ago

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BURNER ACCOUNTS — GOJO SATORU.

contents. fem! reader, loser ex-boyfriend! satoru, exes to lovers, college! au, satoru making burners to watch your stories, miscommunications—satoru is not perfect but he’s trying okay?, gossip icons shoko & suguru <3, i had a silly idea and it turned into 2.6k words my bad

there’s a peculiar account watching your instagram stories—@user273582838, to be exact. you don’t think it’s a very well timed coincidence seeing as you and satoru have just broken up—so you decide to do some digging.

which of course, means enlisting the help of shoko.

“i think satoru is stalking me,” you mumble, making her pause in the middle of sipping on her energy drink—for a med student, her habits don’t seem every healthy. this is her third one of the day.

“okay,” she nods, “i wouldn’t put it past him, but what makes you say that?”

“look,” you turn your phone to face her, the blank, anonymous instagram account right there on the list of users who have viewed your story. she crinkles her brows, blinking for a moment before humming.

“that definitely seems like something he’d do,” she nods—and then, “i have an idea.”

“okay,” you brighten, nodding enthusiastically, “what’s the plan?”

“try and log in with that user.”

“shoko,” you look at her like she’s grown two heads. maybe the lack of sleep is finally getting to her—no amount of energy drinks can save her at this point. “we don’t have the password—”

“—and that, dummy,” she rolls her eyes, making you scowl at the name, “is why we click forgot my password and see the last four digits of the phone number that registered the account. if it’s satoru’s number, we’ll know.”

okay—you take it back. shoko is a genius and a full-blown brilliant mastermind that you could never hope to come close to. you’re glad you chose her to help—you’re even more glad she agreed because you would not have thought of that. this is fantastic. a fool-proof plan.

you grin wide, eyes lighting up as you gasp, “shoko! you’re so smart, that’s a great idea!”

“i know,” she grumbles, “took you long enough to notice.”

ignoring her, you quickly pull out your phone and try to log onto the account, typing user273582838 into the username box and clicking forgot my password. shoko is hovering over your shoulder, and your breath is held as you wait for the page to load and the number to pop up. within just a few seconds, the first few digits are censored with asterisks, but the last four show, and—

yeah. it’s satoru’s fucking number. just as you suspected—you and shoko scoff together at the same time, rolling your eyes.

“well,” you look at her, lips pursed in irritation—of course, satoru refuses to give you space and leave you alone after your break up (which was his fault, might you add), “what now?”

“send the verification code to his number,” she presses, “it’ll definitely spook him when he sees.”

she’s so good at what she does, you think in awe, staring at her with heart-eyes. nodding quickly, you press send code.

hopefully, that’ll give satoru the heart attack you want it to.

———

satoru stares at his screen in abject horror—who could be trying to log into his burner account? the only person who should possibly stumble across it is you, but surely you’re not closely inspecting your story viewers, are you? so then, who could be trying to log onto the instagram account of @user273582838?

“suguru,” he says in a trance, “are you trying to log onto the burner?”

“are you bringing that shit up again?” suguru grumbles, controller in hand as he pays attention to the screen, “i told you that was a stupid idea. a pathetic one too—”

“well, i didn’t want to keep waiting for you to send screenshots to see the stories—”

“you’re a fucking loser, do you know that? pathetic,” suguru reiterates. “move on.”

“no,” satoru hisses in disbelief, “why would i do that? now, was that you or not? you’re the only other person who knows the user.”

“as if i care to log onto your loser burner account,” suguru snorts, shaking his head in amusement. he beats satoru’s high score, turning to give him a sly grin as he adds, “i wasn’t removed, so i can view the stories all i want.”

“you’re a jerk, you know that?” satoru grunts, crossing his arms and pouting, “i’m having the worst heartbreak of my life, and you—”

“who’s fault is it that you’re dumped?”

satoru deflates.

okay, so he supposedly hasn’t been the best boyfriend. it’s not that satoru isn’t helplessly committed to you—he’s so sickeningly obsessed with you, it’s actually a bit unhealthy. suguru says so, at least. but satoru is…well, satoru, and he doesn’t always seem to take things as seriously as most people would hope.

evidently, that includes your relationship—though, he does insist on disagreeing on that. according to you, he doesn’t take you on dates often enough, and sometimes he flirts back with random strangers. that’s not true—he’s simply a bit of a tease and enjoys it when you’re jealous, but he doesn’t flirt back. that’s outrageous. you’ve even claimed he’s mean about it and makes a joke out of it all—satoru would never be mean on purpose; he only teases because the banter is always endearing.

but, unfortunately, you don’t seem to see it the way he does, and now he’s woefully single and cold and alone in bed. no cuddles, no goodnight kisses, and no head scratches.

life is so cruel sometimes.

“suguru,” he says in distress, “i’m serious. someone’s trying to hack my burner—who could it be?”

“hmm, i don’t know…maybe the one and only person who would notice the account in the first place?”

“but why try and log in if the password is unknown?”

suguru looks at satoru like he’s stupid—apparently, he is because he’s not putting two and two together.

“maybe because sending a verification code shows the last four digits of the registered phone number? you’ve probably been caught, you idiot.”

satoru pales at that—he didn’t think about that. it slipped his mind completely. fuck, he should’ve used a burner email instead. he stares down at his phone numbly—yeah, he thinks, he’s screwed.

———

after two days of continuous log in attempts into satoru’s burner account—it’s only just to spook him extra—you finally decide to confront him.

we need to talk. is all you send him.

the three bubbles appear on his end multiple times before disappearing—you and shoko get a good cackle out of that and laugh at him for a bit before he finally answers.

miss me already? knew it ;)

wow. what a dickhead.

so, because you can be equally as much of a prick, you send him a screenshot of his phone number on the log in page followed by a message that says: no. it’s so you can explain this.

the three dots show up again for a few minutes before he finally responds with: okay. you caught me. when do you wanna meet?

well, that was easy. satoru is the type to not go down without a fight no matter how cornered he is—he’s stubborn and annoying like that. you turn to shoko for help.

“meet him now,” shoko crosses her arms, “don’t give him time to come up with some ridiculous excuse.”

“what excuse could he possibly come up with?” you snort, “that he was possessed and the evil spirit in his mind made him stalk his ex like a loser?”

“true,” she concedes, taking a sip from her energy drink—seriously, how many of these does this girl drink in a day? “i just want to know what happens,” she shrugs, “so do it now.”

of course, as on brand as ever, shoko is merely in it for the drama. you roll your eyes before sighing and nodding.

“okay,” you huff.

meet me at my place. now.

on my way, he sends back almost instantly.

“he’s probably just excited to see you,” shoko snorts, “like the loser he is.”

“you’re probably right,” you purse your lips in exasperation. in all your time knowing him, you’ve definitely realized that satoru is definitely…well, a case.

———

“hey,” shoko whispers to suguru through the phone, walking out your door so you can prepare to confront satoru. “did you know satoru’s been stalking—”

“—on a burner account? yeah, i know.”

okay, she frowns to herself, that was no fun at all. suguru is already aware of the drama. but that’s no matter—surely, he can’t possibly already know that satoru has been invited over to be scolded.

“yeah, well,” she says smugly, “did you know he’s actually on his way over to—”

“—get yelled at? yeah, i’m aware. he called me panicked. what a fucking loser.”

“okay, well since you’re up to speed,” shoko grumbles bitterly, rolling her eyes. she was supposed to be the knight in shining armor with the juicy updates—but evidently, satoru is pathetic enough to already cry to suguru about his dilemma. “wanna meet up and get sushi nearby? i bet they’ll get back together in twenty minutes.”

“i bet ten. loser pays for the food?”

“you’ve got yourself a deal.”

———

satoru sits on your couch in shame, bouncing his leg nervously as you sit on the opposite end with your arms crossed and brow raised.

it’s quiet. he doesn’t have the guts to say anything, waiting for you to break the silence. maybe you’re not that mad.

“so,” you start, “it’s nice to finally meet you, user273582838.”

he rubs his neck awkwardly, chuckling through his nerves as he mumbles, “oh, hey there! it’s a small world, huh?”

“satoru.”

yeah, never mind. you seem pretty mad.

“okay, look,” he begins, “you can’t blame me. you dumped me, your sweet, loving, and unsuspecting boyfriend out of nowhere! i was heartbroken and shattered—and then you didn’t even give me a chance to work it out! i was not in the right headspace to make wise decisions so…so this is basically not my fault.”

that doesn’t seem to help his case—in fact, it only makes it worse.

“so it’s my fault?”

“wha—no!” he says quickly, “no, definitely not.”

you sigh, rubbing your forehead in defeat as you mumble, “satoru, we are broken up for a reason. you can’t overstep and—”

“it’s a pretty stupid reason,” he grumbles under his breath, crossing his arms and frowning. you glare at him from the side as you scoff in disbelief.

“of course,” you chuckle dryly, “of course you would say that. nothing is ever serious enough to you—”

“it’s pretty fucking serious to me,” he spits, shooting you a look that tells you he’s just as shocked as you, “that’s obviously why i’m the one who’s still not moved on as easily as you. how seriously did you really take it?”

“that’s not fair,” you grit, “you made it abundantly clear you didn’t care enough, so why should i—”

“i fucking cared a shit ton,” he says incredulously, “that’s bullshit, and you know it—”

“don’t curse at me, satoru—”

“well, don’t accuse me of not caring when i clearly—”

“oh, yeah cause you cared so much when you were laughing with that waitress as she hit on you,” you seethe, throwing a pillow from your couch at him. he can catch it easily—you know this for sure, but he lets it hit him out of what you’re sure is at least a little consideration to your feelings.

“i wasn’t laughing because i enjoyed it,” he crinkles his brows as if you’ve said the most ridiculous thing ever, “it was just funny because she was trying so hard. and you looked all cute when you got mad.”

“what kind of boyfriend enjoys watching his girlfriend get mad—”

“the kind of boyfriend who thinks his girlfriend is adorable when she’s mad—”

“yeah, well your idea of a date is going to the mall with shoko and suguru. what kind of date is that—”

“okay, i was a bit clueless sometimes, but you could’ve said something instead of just dumping me like i was some random guy in your dm’s—”

“you need to grow the fuck up, satoru—”

“now look at who's cursing!”

it’s silent—both you and him have your arms crossed and lips curled into scowls as you both glare at each other. you’re stubbornly convinced satoru doesn’t care as much as you do, and he’s firmly committed to the idea that you’re twisting him into some douche who doesn’t give two shits.

it’s quiet like that for a bit before he deflates and slumps against the couch, rubbing his face as he groans.

“look,” he starts, “i’m sorry. i never meant to make it seem like i enjoy attention from other girls, and i didn’t realize you wanted more dates. i’d have done things differently if you told me how you felt.”

he sounds sincere. and he’s looking at you with those eyes of his—god, those stupid little eyes that are so wide and blue and deep and full of love. even after that whole argument, satoru is clearly as painfully in love as ever.

you sigh before playing with a loose thread on your sweatpants.

“i…guess i could’ve talked it out first. i probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to breaking up,” you mutter, not meeting his eyes.

satoru stares glumly at you from the corner of his eyes before he adds bitterly, “you don’t seem to miss me. not even a little.”

“toru,” you pinch your nose, “of course i miss you. i was not gonna be mopey on instagram, though—”

“doesn’t seem like it,” he huffs. he’s a bit hurt—you can tell because he’s not meeting your eyes, and he’s not got that playful little upward curl of his lips.

you’re a bit weak, you realize—but you suppose you always have been for satoru, because you’re shuffling to his end of the couch and poking his cheek gently.

“i miss you tons, y’know,” you murmur—you smile a little at his pout before adding, “i want more dates this time around. and stop letting girls get away with being shameless flirts.”

he finally meets your eyes—it’s like a child on christmas, the way his face lights up and his lips curl into an excited grin.

“you mean i get to be your boyfriend again?”

it’s cute—the way he asks to be your boyfriend and not if you’ll be his girlfriend. maybe you’ve been a bit unfair, maybe satoru has always cared deeply in his dumb little clueless way of his own.

“fine,” you pretend to roll your eyes. he looks hopelessly excited as he wraps an arm around you and pulls you into his side, tucking you under his chin as he rests his cheek on your head.

“you should really talk to me more,” he murmurs, “i’m…things fly over my head sometimes. i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry too,” you admit, “i’ll talk to you—but you better listen to me if i do. don’t turn it into jokes.”

“i never turn things into jokes,” he grumbles petulantly, huffing to the side as you shoot him an unimpressed raise of your brow. “does this mean i can follow you again?”

“yes,” you snort.

“and you’ll follow back, right?”

“yes, satoru,” you sigh, shaking your head in amusement. he’s already back to being a handful—but you can admit you might have missed it just a bit. “but for the love of god, please delete that burner.”

“fine,” he pouts, tugging you closer.

you giggle, he grins, and then you’re kissing—and everything feels as it should be.

———

“they’re back together,” shoko says in disbelief, staring at your text. suguru groans, pausing mid bite as he rubs over his forehead in defeat.

of course, you and satoru just have to make up in exactly fifteen minutes. not ten. not twenty. exactly fifteen.

how considerate of you both.

“are you kidding?” suguru grumbles, “so neither of us win.”

“guess not,” she says sourly, rolling her eyes.

woefully, they both agree to split the check.

suguru and shoko are so me and my friend every time our other friend argues with her boyfriend we deadass be making bets over when they make up and loser has to pay for boba LMAO

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 15 days ago

Note

Hi! I loved the "through their eyes" fanfic with lando, and i was wondering if youd do it with literally any other driver? Maybe oscar, max or charles? If not thats fine x

through their eyes .ೃ࿐

Summary: charles and y/n's relationship through other people's eyes.

lando's version

༉‧₊˚. cl x reader ‗ ❍

༉‧₊˚. fluff ‗ ❍

masterlist ☾☼

arthur

arthur loved his brother. he really did. his elder brother was his favourite person in the world sometimes.

key word: sometimes.

he hated his brother when he called in the middle of the night. he hated his brother a little more when his reason for calling was because he was afraid his new little puppy had accidentally eaten chocolates.

charles himself never ate chocolates. arthur knew that. so, he couldn’t understand where charles had the idea that leo ate chocolates.

nevertheless, he let his brother drag him to an emergency vet at 4 am. charles was craddling leo, talking to him in a baby voice. arthur tried to take the whole thing seriously, he really did, but sometimes his brother forgot that other people needed sleep.

"they're taking so long. what if something happens to leo in that time? this is an emergency." charles mumbled.

arthur sighed and said, "you're next in line. just be patient."

charles nodded and went back to running his fingers through leo's fur.

when they finally called charles' name, he immediately stood up and speed walked towards the door. arthur sighed, and followed behind, dragging his feet because he really just wanted to be in his bed right now.

"hi, i'm doctor y/l/n. what brings you here?" the doctor was pretty, arthur had to admit.

though, the funny part was the way his brother had lost the part of his brain that made sentences as he stared at the doctor with wide eyes.

as much as arthur loved to see his brother like this, he refused to let him make a fool of himself, or of arthur.

"his dog apparently ate chocolates?" arthur said.

the vet let out a small chuckle, "you say that as if you're not sure,"

"well, i just came home and saw chocolate wrappers around him, which was weird, and immediately rushed him here." charles finally said, finding the part of his brain that made words.

"that is weird. do you have a lot of chocolate at home?" she asked as she began to check for any signs on leo.

"not really. i don't eat a lot of chocolate," charles said, alternating between the doctor and leo.

"any idea where the chocolate was since it was accessible to such a small dog?"

both leclercs stopped for a second and thought. charles was usually careful about not leaving things like that near leo's reach, well aware that leo was a hyperactive dog. and for the days that charles was away, arthur babysat leo. just like he had done that day.

oh.

arthur's brain finally began working, and he hit his brother's back.

"i had the chocolates!" arthur exclaimed.

charles turned to him, confused, "what?"

"i was babysitting leo today and i got some chocolates with me!"

"so you ate them in my living room and left the wrappers?" charles asked, a little bit of anger seeping through his voice.

oh.

this was what arthur had told himself today to not repeat to his brother. that he had been lazy and decided not to clean up like he knew he should've.

arthur opened his mouth to defend himself, to say anything that could pass off and not have his brother lecture him in the middle of the night. but, the doctor saved him. thank fuck.

"oh, i know what you mean. sometimes, i have too many chocolates, and then i fall asleep from a sugar crash and forget to pick up the wrappers or clean up," she said casually, as she continued checking leo.

charles turned back to her, and arthur watched as he slowly nodded and accepted the answer. arthur wasn't sure whether he wanted to be pissed at that or amazed at the power this woman already held.

she subtly winked at arthur, and he decided that he liked this woman.

she turned to charles and said, "alright, he's not vomitting, so that's a good sign. i'm gonna write my personal number for you just in case there's an emergency."

arthur smiled, though he tried to hide it. he knew what she was doing. he just hoped his brother caught on too.

charles took the piece of paper from her, and thanked her. she waved at the two brothers, as they turned to leave.

just as they settled in charles' car, he asked, "why did she give me her personal number?"

arthur facepalmed.

carlos

carlos had been seeing charles' new "friend" quite often in the paddock. charles hadn't introduced them yet, and carlos didn't know why. he still respected his teammate's wishes.

carlos liked to think that he was an observant man. he liked to think that he knew charles well enough to read his body language and know or at least, understand some part of what his teammate was feeling.

he had been observing charles every time y/n was close by. had been watching the way charles stood a little taller, spoke a little softer, laughed a little harder. watched the way charles almost touched her back while showing her around, and insisted on putting the headphones on her head himself, and the way charles waited and waited for her to do anything and everything.

it reminded him of lando and his girlfriend. though, those two were much more touchy than whatever this was. in comparison, charles seemed hesitant, yet eager.

it was during the fourth or fifth grand prix that carlos noticed that charles was properly touching her. not just a hand on her back to guide her way, but a hand on the waist, and her arm, and sometimes her fingers. not only that, she was touching him just as much. she played with his rings and his hair, and she stood just a tad closer than friends would.

carlos knew then that something had changed. something had definitely changed, and he knew it was for the better. he did not say anything, though. it wasn't his place.

towards the end of the season, charles finally introduced the woman to carlos.

"carlos, this is dr. y/n y/l/n. she's a vet," he paused, "and my girlfriend,"

carlos smiled instantly. shaking y/n's hand, he said, "hello, dr. y/n. i am carlos sainz jr, though i'm sure you're already aware of that."

she laughed, and carlos watched the way charles lit up, "yes, i do know who you are! i'm so glad to finally meet you!"

"me too! i was expecting charles to hide you from the world, especially me," carlos laughed.

"i apologise, that was based on my request," y/n looked slightly apologetic, but she also seemed sure in her response. it was her request to not be known, and she had the vibe that she would fight anyone who questioned it.

"well, then i'm glad to see charles is capable to following requests. my request for feeding him pancakes have always been ignored. hopefully, you can convince him,"

charles groaned, while y/n laughed, leaning into him slightly.

"i'll convince him, for sure. don't worry,"

the three of them chatted for a little while longer, giggling and making fun of charles. when she started yawning, and leaning into charles more, carlos bid his goodbyes to the couple.

he watched as charles tucked her into him, and watched they shared a soft kiss as they walked towards the exit. he watched as charles smiled radiantly, and he smiled as well.

what was it with carlos and watching his teammates finding their forever loves in front of him?

lewis

being a part of ferrari had been a dream. it was everyone's dream. but, lewis had some doubts. it had been a tough decision, definitely. now, though, with almost half of the season over, lewis felt more comfortable.

he had been waiting for charles to finish talking to the fia president to go over some strategy changes for the next few races. he wasn't eavesdropping, he was just listening attentively for any signs of their conversation being over. lewis desperately wanted to go home, but he wanted to finish this and then go home.

as soon as the conversation ended, lewis watched as charles and his girlfriend bid their goodbyes and walked to charles' driver room. lewis jogged to keep up. he was 40. he shouldn't have to jog to keep up now.

just as lewis reached the door, the two had already locked themselves in the room. in hindsight, lewis could have just yelled at them to wait up like a normal person would, but well, maybe he doesn't care about the strategies enough to do it.

he raised his hand to knock when the words from inside the room registered in his brain.

"-such a dick." y/n was saying. who was a dick? a lot of people were dicks, so it didn't exactly narrow down the list for lewis.

charles laughed. his voice was louder. maybe he was standing closer to the door.

"don't laugh! it was so annoying standing there. three different people, including me, mentioned to that fuckass president of yours that i'm a vet and i have a medical degree, and i've made a name for myself! but, no! he kept referring to me as your girlfriend!"

if lewis leaned against the wall to get slightly more comfortable, he definitely didn't. definitely.

"you say as if it's a bad thing he referred to you as my girlfriend! you are my girlfriend, after all." charles said.

"that's not the point, charles. the point is that i'm accomplished in my own ways. i'm y/n y/l/n first, and somebody's something second. him refusing to acknowledge that i'm a doctor, even if it was for animals, was disrespectful."

lewis hoped that charles got his shit together in this conversation.

"i understand that. but, you know that's how he is. we've all told you stories of how he is. he's not going to change." well, lewis agreed that he wasn't going to change, but it still wasn't the argument that charles thought it was.

"that's bullshit, no? he's the president of the fia, and he refuses to acknowledge women as someone other than a secondary person. i mean, how many others has he done this with? we've got professional golfer lily, and a super smart degree in engineering, and we've got kika as a model and studying in fashion design. they're all highly accomplished women."

"mon cheri, i agree with you. i promise i do. but, the president barely treats us drivers as humans. his viewership and his money literally depends on us, and he doesn't have the decency to treat us nicely,"

that was true, lewis had to agree.

it was quiet for a few moments, and then hushed whispers. lewis leaned in closer to the door as he tried to make out the words, but he just couldn't.

"oh, hey lewis!" one of the mechanics said, clapping a hand on his back.

lewis immediately straightened, and made polite conversations. he really wanted to get back to listening to the conversation happening inside.

just as he was done with the conversation, the door opened, and charles greeted them, and the conversation began again.

for fucks sake.

jules

jules was always watching from the sky. he was always watching over his godson. after all, that was the duty of a godfather, wasn't it? to protect the godson when no one else could. to be there for the godson when no one else could. jules had promised charles' father that he would always look after his son, and not even death can stop jules.

he'd watched charles find y/n. he'd watched the way she supported him and helped him grow as a person. he's watched as she made him the happiest man on earth. he'd watched her celebrate every win with him, and comforted him through every loss.

it was safe to say that jules felt the proudest of his godson the day he proposed to y/n. charles was smart to never let her go. charles was smart to make sure that she stayed with him and loved him just like he loved her and wanted to stay with her.

it was the day of charles and y/n's wedding.

jules was there in spirit. he always was.

y/n was a sweetheart. she had saved him a seat, along with charles' father in the front row for charles. jules wasn't sure if she had told charles, but he knew his godson would be so thankful for it.

jules was there in his suit and tie, looking crisp, even if no one could see him. he sat on the seat reserved for him as he waited for the groom to walk down the aisle first.

he saw every person who ever cared about charles sitting there. family, friends, team, ex drivers, current drivers. it made jules smile. so many people loved charles. so many loved y/n as well. to see them all together in one place to celebrate their love was heartwarming.

the music began, and charles walked down the aisle with his groomsmen: pierre, carlos, and bryan. they smile and laugh with him, shaking his shoulders as tear gather in charles' eyes.

jules watched as charles' gaze roam across the mass of people sitting there. he waves slightly at a few. jules watched as charles' gaze finally settled on him. he watched as charles' tears fell at the realisation of what his fiance had done for him.

he watched as charles covered his face, silent sobs escaping him. and then, the music began, and the bride walked down the aisle. everyone stood, including jules.

the bride was smiling wide, a little bounce in her steps as if she couldn't wait to marry his godson. her hand was tucked in her father's elbow, and the other hand held a bouquet of lilies.

jules watched as she stood on the little podium in front of charles, smiling brightly while his tears mixed with his grin. the love in charles' eyes was as beautiful as the aurora borealis in the night sky.

the ceremony began, and they went through the usual process. jules had been to few weddings, though he didn't remember most of them anymore.

when it was time for the vows, charles broke down again as he thanked his bride for saving a spot for his dad and his godfather, that he didn't think of doing something like that despite how much he wanted them to be there on their wedding there. he thanked her and promised to love her forever. he promised to cherish her and always be there for her, and he promised that he would always be at her beck and call, because she was the greatest gift he'd ever gotten.

y/n cried as well. it surprised jules a little bit. maybe he wasn't expecting her to cry as well. but, it was nice to see. to see that their love for each other was so overwhelming that smiles could not contain it.

she said her vows as well. she told him that she knew how much he missed his father and godfather and she wanted to do something small that would make him feel closer to them. she told him how much she loved him and how much she's going to continue loving him. she promised him to be the first one jumping for every win, and be the first hug he needs when he's disappointed. she promised that she would hold onto his hand as long as he held onto her, and she promised to laugh at every joke he said, regardless of how funny or not funny it was.

almost everyone was in tears. jules was too.

when the priest finally said, "you may kiss your bride," the couple did not waste another second. charles' hands cupped her face, as she held onto his wrists, and they kissed for the first time as a married couple.

jules smiled.

he knew pushing y/n towards charles was a good idea.

he knew he'd made the right decision, even from the sky.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

i genuinely feel like my writing skills have massively deteriorated. im not even fishing. im just saying. i feel like it takes me one or two tries to get a particular driver right. i don't really pay as much attention to the other drivers as i do with lando, and also that i connect with lando a lot personality wise, so its easier for me to write him. anyways, i hope you like this! im sorry it took me so long to write this one! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc y/n #charles x reader #charles x you #jules bianchi #cl16 #cl

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apeachty · 1 month ago

Text

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀be quiet | cbg

⠀⠀⠀meany!beomgyu x fem!reader

genre ; smut

warnings | tags ; beomgyu is mean and frustrated (and hot); a tiny bit of subtle cock worship; name calling ('slut' + 'pathetic'); NO protection mentioned; probably something else but i forgot.

wordcount ; 0.9k

✉ notes ; getting a meltdown while trying to come up with nicknames beomgyu would call his s/o is... meh. if anyone has any suggestions for all the members—

also kinda tagging my bestie @biteyoubiteme because she loves gamer gyu, but it's... not much of a gamer gyu, but... ily sorry

happy new year everyone! i hope 2025 will be kind to you and people who are important to you ♡ thank you so much for reading, i'm happy to have you all in my life ♡

⠀⠀⠀[ masterlist is here ]

you weren't sure how you went there—one moment you were sitting cross-legged on the couch beside beomgyu as he played league of legends on his laptop, and the next, you found yourself kneeling on the rough fabric, face down, cheek pressed against the t-shirt he had carelessly thrown on the couch to prevent you from rubbing your cheek against it. you felt his hand on the side of your head, pushing your face further into the fabric as his other hand pulled your bottoms down to your knees, your underwear going with them.

"g-gyu—" you whimpered, unsure if you wanted him to stop or continue. it was the middle of the night in the dorm's living room, and while some of the members were known to wander around at random hours, you were too far gone to care. you had been wet for nearly an hour already, watching beomgyu groan and curse his "completely useless, good-for-nothing" teammates. his forearms flexed as one hand clicked the mouse buttons aggressively and the other flew over the keys, hands that seemed to be made by the gods themselves.

he pulled his sweatpants down, freeing himself with a soft groan. instinctively, you tried to turn your head to look back at him—you loved his cock so much, you could admire it for hours, for days from between his legs—but he quickly pressed your head back down, pushing your chin up so you could barely see him. this made you whimper in protest, your body aching for him.

beomgyu chuckled, pushing two of his fingers inside you, scissoring them to stretch you out. "ohh, what a pathetic little pup," he murmured, his voice filled with a pout. "wants to see my cock so badly. would do anything for it, wouldn't you?" his fingers curled inside you, making you clench around them and mewl into the fabric of his t-shirt.

you whined a quiet "please", already wet enough to take him. your inner thighs were slick with your arousal, and you pushed your hips back, trying to show him you were ready and couldn't wait. you didn't care about the stretching, craving the little pain that always came with his dick.

beomgyu wanted to torture you more, to make you cry, beg, and whimper. he loved seeing your face wet and your mind filled only with thoughts of him, loved seeing the dumb, lust-filled look in your eyes. sometimes, he managed to make you go dumb for his cock before it even left his pants. but this time, he knew you barely had any time. he knew should’ve pulled you to his bedroom and fuck you in his bed, but you’d been almost grinding the couch for half an hour, stealing his concentration completely. by the end of the game he could barely think about anything but you.

he rolled his eyes as he finally started pushing his cock inside, the tip alone feeling like heaven. it was wet, tight, and so warm, shaped just for him. he couldn't wait to feel you clenching around him. with a sharp exhale, he buried himself inside you completely, biting his lip to stay quiet. but you didn't do the same—your moan cut through the night air. fuck, he thought. it was hot but too risky, soobin would scold the shit out of him for fucking in a shared space.

when he pulled out, you whimpered—he stretched you out so good, you were praying for him to stay inside longer, but it only lasted a moment before he wrapped his fingers around your neck, pulling you up by it to stand on your knees. he told you to grab his t-shirt, which you did, clenching it in your hands as your back pressed against his chest.

not-so-gently, beomgyu left a bite on your neck, groaning "stay. quiet." into it before tearing the t-shirt away from your hands and turning you around, pushing you to lay on the couch. you swallowed thickly as he towered over you, your gaze immediately drawn to his cock, your tongue darting out to lick your lips involuntarily.

he pushed his bangs back, looking down at you sprawled beneath him, your eyes glued to his cock that you couldn't wait to have inside you. it was mutual, and he slapped your thigh quietly, saying "up". beomgyu knew you were a good, smart girl, so even in your current state, you lifted your hips up, letting him put his t-shirt under you.

you reached out for him immediately, hands trying to grab his arms to pull him down. he tsked, shaking his head, but you both knew he loved it. he parted your legs, positioning his cock at your entrance once more. lowering himself on top of you this time, he leaned on his elbow not to crush you, his palm finding its place on your face, covering your mouth. his fingers dug into your cheeks as he buried himself to the hilt with one sharp movement, making you arch your back and moan into his hand, eyes screwed shut.

"can never be quiet, can you?" beomgyu asked breathlessly, your reaction to him making his brain hazy. "if you wake any of them up, i'll ask that one to join. f-fuck— you're clenching around me. liking the thought, little slut?"

#[ writing ]#[ by me ]#[ beomgyu x reader ]#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours #txt x reader #[ peachy's gyu ]

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tension4mari · 1 month ago

Note

LOL I forgot to click this and not comment on your requests post 😭😭 can you please do a nsfw Namgyu x reader fic!!! Oh and can you make him mean… I just know that man is mean

Ahaha, you guys are something 😭.. But I am here to give what the people want!

-`♡´-Paring- Exbf!Nam-gyu x Fem!Reader

-`♡´-Warnings- Sex, blowjobs, Reader gets eaten out, cursing, toxic Nam-gyu , possessive behavior, not pfroofread.

-`♡´-Summary- You somehow found your way in a place where children games are being played and your life is on the line, Every. Single. Game. deciding you're not going out sad you decided to filrt with the one and only Myung-gi. The man who scammed your ex-boyfriend out of all his money. Nam-gyu don't appreciate that.

-`♡´-You wake up inside a room filled with hundreds of people you can only guess. Getting up from the awfully loud music playing you make your way towards the middle of the room. Hearing people complaining about nonsense, like they didn't put themselves in this situation.

-`♡´-They make you all head to a room filled with lots of color. They were making everyone smile at cameras "Tch, creepy much..." you mumble "Right. what the fuck are we even doing." a girl beside you spoke you look down and her number read 196

-`♡´-Before you spoke a guy called out to you both "Hey. You both want to come on this too?" 'Come on" he say urging you both into a photo with some random people. As if you'll take a photo with some creep with purple hair.

-`♡´- You were walking away, taking one more look over your shoulder and back at the guy with the purple hair and his little minions before your eyes are pulled to a special someone

-`♡´-Nam-gyu. What the hell is he doing here? you think to yourself before hurriedly turning away. He saw your retreating figure before clenching his jaw continuing his way towards where you all were being forced to go to

-`♡´-You didn't even think you were going to make it out alive. The girl you were speaking to sure as hell didn't. You all were back in that room. As you sat on your bed all you could think about was Nam-gyu, you didn't even know it, but you were scared.

-`♡´-Deciding to not think about it you got up from your bed going to at least try to be social you spotted a certain person. The man that 'scammed' your ex-boyfriend from his money, walking up to him he was already looking at you.

-`♡´-'Hey! What's your name?" you ask with a smile on your face "Uhm..Myung_gi" he replies before looking at you with stupid eyes "Hm.. Cute name you got there! What's your last name? I might want to share it with you!" you put one of your hands on your hip and the other on his bicep, you could see the guy face burning with red. You secretly laugh to yourself

-`♡´-"Its-" before he could speak his eyes were pulled behide your figure and you furrowed your eyebrows, turning around you were met with your Nam-gyu. "y/n, what the fuck are you doing!?" he says looking down at you angrily, you freeze stareing at him before speaking "Uh.. I'm minding my god damn business, what about you?" You try to sound confident, not wanting him to know how scared you actually were. He stares at before nodding his head, chuckling "Alright, I see how it is bitch" he says before turning away.

-`♡´-You hesitantly made your way back to your bed, digging a feeling someone was watching you. Wanting to dig a whole and climb in it you just sit on your bed before lights go out.

-`♡´-You woke up in the middle of the night, having to use the restroom you found your way towards a door knocking on it. "Helloo?? is somewhere in there? I have to peeee" you exaggerate groaning. Some guard with a square mask looks thru the peep hole "Hey! I have to use the bathroom, can you open the door please" you say smiling nicely at the guard

-`♡´-They closed the peep hole back up "What the fuck?" "Hey man I need to use the bathroom, I'm on my period!" you blabber out a lie "Shit... I might leak through these cheap ass sweatpants!"

-`♡´-Soon enough they open the door allowing you to go to the restroom "Apparently you can't be nice to people in here." you whisper under your breathe.

-`♡´-You easily make your way to the women's bathroom, going in a stall and closing it, you hear the bathroom door open then close. Whoever they were they mad themselves towards the stall you were in knocking on the stall. "I'm here in!" you call out.

-`♡´-'Thump thump thump', knocking again. "I said I'm fucking in here! Its plenty of stall for you to go in! stop being annoying!" you yell, getting up and flushing the toilet "Alright whoever you are you can get this fucking stall I'm doing pissing." you mumble before unlocking the stall and opening it, just to find yourself face to face with Nam-gyu.

-`♡´-"What the fuck are you doing in here you damn weirdo!" shock is ridden all over your face with a hit of scariness, God you didn't like this feeling one bit. "Stop being so bitchy, y'know you miss me!" he replies Laughy, you scoff "As if." you say stepping aside to go wash your hands. "Where do you think you damn going!?" he says with a hint of anger

-`♡´-"Your gonna leave again? Hm? because if you think you are your fucked in the head." he walks up to your turned body, hands resting on your hip tight enough to hurt. "Let go of me you dickface!" you can't help but feel a little bad for leaving him at his lowest, after he lost all his money you had to think for yourself, knowing if you stayed you would have been in more debt than what you had.

-`♡´-His hands still on your waist, he brings his face into the crack of your neck "Hey man, I said let me go. you're starting to piss me off." you spoke hoping he would let you go, which he didn't. "Why'd you leave me 'y/n'? he spoke softly in your neck, you're quiet. "I asked you a question, why did you fucking leave me?" he said getting angrier "I gave you fucking everything!" "And you left me. You were always such a bitch" he spoke moving his hand from your waist towards the curve of your ass. groping and you can't help but melt in his touch.

-`♡´-"Did you leave me so you could be with that god damn scammer?" he speak before moving his face back into your neck, mouth latching onto your skin. you silently moan from him sucking on your sweet spot he knew oh so well.

-`♡´-"Where you going to let him fuck you?" he asks getting mad at his own question. Hands going onto the waistband of your sweatpants pulling them down, he stares at the outline of your pussy, groaning before using his hand to feel the slit of you pussy in your panties. he then brings his now hard dick to rub against your ass

-`♡´-"Oh-Fuck." he groans while he leans his head back. "I bet you still taste amazing." he says before pulling your panties down to your ankles. Getting onto his knees, he's looking directly at your wet cunt.

-`♡´-"You fucking slut..." he mumbles before smashing his face onto your pussy licking, and sucking like his life depended on it. "Ah-ah shit Nam-gyu..." Moaning out his name

-`♡´-He brings his hands in-between your thighs spreading them apart even more. "Im gonna cummm" you moan "Don't stop Nam-gyu-". He then stops, your wet slick all over his face. "What the fuck?" you come from your dazzled state. "You really thought I'll let you come that easily after all that shit you put me through?" he laughs.

-`♡´-He stands up freeing his harden dick from his pants, smacking it on your wetness before shoving his dick in you fully. "Ow, shit!" you turn your head back staring at him. "Shut the hell up you dumb bitch" he pulls out of you before going back in again.

-`♡´-"You always had a mouth on you..." "Talking like you were better than everyone" he says groaning, dick still going back in fourth in your cunt roughly. "Yeah? so what." you mumble under your breath still taking him fully. "It makes me hard." he says still fucking you hard. "Thats because you're a fucking creep!"

-`♡´-"Yet, you're letting me fuck you." he says groaning "Thats all i ever needed you for-" he pulls out of you in a fast pace grabbing your hair throwing you on the ground. "Oh yea? You're nothing but a fucking slut." he speaks out

-`♡´-You're now on your knees looking up at him "I'm going to use that nasty mouth of yours to finally shut you the hell up." he says going to grab his dick slapping it on your face softly "Open up bitch" you have no choice, so you obey to his request, "Good girl." he whispers before shoving himself down your throat.

-`♡´-"Your mouth s-still feels so good-" he's now breathing heavily, almost near his end. He's so rough. You try to tap his thighs letting him know you can't breathe. He only stares down at you before grabbing your hair pushing himself more into your mouth. "F-fuck-" he's groaning loudly, and you can barely hear your thoughts, you seriously can't fucking breathe.

-`♡´-Your eyes start to form tears, and all he's doing is staring at you. "This is what you fucking get-" he breaths out before releasing himself in your mouth. He pulls himself out your now sore throat. You have your mouth opened with all his cum. he grabs your jaw roughly. "Swallow it" he says sternly. you close your mouth before swallowing all his seed. "Lemme see, open your mouth." you obey and open your mouth.

-`♡´-"Good." he says before letting go of your jaw, lightly tapping you on your face. He pulls his close on before heading towards the door "If I ever see you speaking to that fucking freak again. I'm will kill you both." he says before leaving.

-`♡´-"wow. What a bitch" you say before getting up and washing your mouth out, cleaning yourself up. You stare at yourself in the mirror. "I didn't even get to cum..." you say sadly while leaving the bathroom.

Ugh. I tried 😩

#squid game x reader #squid game #nam gyu #squid game smut #squid games x reader #smut #ex bf problems #player 124

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