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the-witty-pen-name · 2 months ago

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Meddling Mr. Munson

Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Wayne is your favorite regular at work. Plus- his nephew is really cute.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff and good feels you’ll get a toothache, allusions to pregnancy, alcohol mentioned, mentions of bullying

The first time you meet Wayne Munson, you’re eight hours into your six hour shift at the only diner in Hawkins that's open twenty-four hours. You’re working the overnight shift, and you were supposed to be relieved at 4:00am, but the waitress who was supposed to relieve you called from a payphone to tell you her bus broke down and she can’t get to work until the replacement arrives. So now, you’re brewing a fresh pot of coffee for the only patron you’ve had before the breakfast rush- which hopefully you’ll be missing.

You chit chat with Mr. Munson while he sits at the counter nursing his black coffee. He works overnight at the plant you’ve learned, and he asks you questions about your college classes. He doesn’t admit it, because he’s not the type, but he really enjoys the daily chats with you as stopping at the diner after work becomes one of his routines.

“You should come meet me for breakfast on your way to school,” Wayne suggests one night when he and Eddie are watching TV. His suggestion is met with Eddie blowing a raspberry and a grumble about not wanting to wake up that early. Wayne tosses his hat at Eddie, harmlessly making Eddie jump. “I ain’t asking,” Wayne reiterates and Eddie nods sheepishly, sinking into the couch.

Your eyes light up when you hear the bell on the front door. You already know it’s one of your favorite regulars before you even look up. “‘Morning, Mr. Munson,” you say cheerfully, “Take a seat, I just put on a fresh pot.” You look up and you’re surprised to see he isn’t alone. “Oh, hi Eddie,” you say with a grin, surprised to see Wayne isn’t alone. Eddie’s brain short circuits because he doesn’t know how you even know him, and you are very pretty.

You step out from behind the counter with two mugs in hand as they slide into a booth. “You don’t remember me,” you tease, filling both the mugs with coffee. Eddie fumbles over his words apologetically and Wayne smirks to himself. “That’s okay, we weren’t really friends,” you explain and tell him your name, “You sat in front of me last year in Ms.O’Donnell’s class. We didn’t really talk much.” He’s silently thanking you for omitting that you didn’t talk because he was hardly there. However, he’s practically soaring that despite that you somehow remembered him and aren’t recoiling in disgust.

“Eddie’s got her again this year,” Wayne interjects and Eddie wants to roll under the booth. He’s suddenly embarrassed that he’s repeating senior year again and he wished you didn’t know that. Wayne means nothing by it, literally just making conversation, and the news Eddie is in her class doesn’t seem to even phase you.

“She’s brutal,” you exhale, “If you want, I think I still have my notes somewhere. They’re all yours.”

“T-that’d be great,” he manages to get out. You smile at him and his limbs feel like clay.

“Yeah, of course,” you wave it off like it’s nothing. “I’ll come back in a few and grab your orders, take your time.”

Wayne is using his menu to hide his grin from Eddie. He didn’t know if Eddie and you would hit it off, he just had hopes. He’s not one to meddle, especially in his nephew’s love life, but when you had told Wayne you didn’t have a boyfriend, he immediately wanted to introduce you to Eddie. He knew Eddie would just reject the idea, so he didn’t say anything.

“She’s cute,” Wayne says after a minute when you disappear behind the door to the kitchen.

“God, cut it out,” Eddie exclaims, dramatically covering his face with his hands. His face is bright red. This seriously can not be happening right now. “Wayne, seriously, you are not seriously trying to set me up right now?”

“I’m just trying to treat my nephew to breakfast, I thought it would be nice. We haven’t done this in a while,” he says evenly, but Eddie knows the truth. “I think I’m gonna get the meat lover’s omelet,” he muses, acting oblivious to Eddie’s antics.

Eddie’s nervous bouncing of his leg is making the booth shake, and the coffee spills out over the rim of the mugs ever so slightly. Wayne slides over extra napkins, and chastises Eddie about leaving rings on the table.

“Are you all set?” You ask, getting your notepad out of the front pocket of your apron. Wayne nods and Eddie is staring blankly at the menu in front of him, paralyzed.

“The pancakes are really good if you’re still trying to decide,” you offer, thinking Eddie is actually reading the menu.

“U-uh yeah, that sounds good,” he replies. You nod and scribble it down on your pad.

“Your usual Wayne?” You ask and he nods.

“You’re the best,” he smiles, passing you the menus.

“It’ll be right out,” you reply, “Do you want me to top these off?” Wayne offers you his empty cup and Eddie manages to shake his head no. You disappear behind the doors again to ring in the order, and Wayne nudges Eddie to snap out of it.

“You’re being rude,” he says, “Look I get it, I’ll stay out of it. But you don’t have to freeze her out. She’s being lovely.”

Of course you’re being lovely, Eddie screams internally. You are lovely! He can’t bring himself to correct his uncle that he’s not ignoring you to spite him, but he’s actually tongue tied and completely fumbling. He can’t give Wayne the satisfaction of being right and he also doesn’t want to say anything out loud in utter fear you’d hear him.

“Food should be right out,” you say with a sweet smile. You walk over to the opposite side of the diner and wipe down a few of the empty booths. Eddie flexes his fingers over his thighs repeatedly to try to relax. Wayne watches Eddie, starting to notice he’s a lot more twitchy than he usually is. Eddie’s always animated but this is new. Maybe, Wayne muses, his little plan might actually be working.

Wayne really only ever wants Eddie to be happy. He’s had a front row seat to the abuse Eddie has received from his peers his whole life. Under the tattoos and the hair and the ripped jeans, Wayne still sees the little boy he tucked into bed and the little boy who sat on the kitchen counter while he helped clean his scraped knees. He wished the pain he had to help Eddie navigate was still that simple. Wayne thought maybe you’d see Eddie the way he did.

You’re nice, and genuinely so. Wayne thought if anyone could see Eddie, truly see him for the amazing kid he was, it would be you. Even if this whole stupid plan of his amounted to nothing more, you’re treating Eddie with such a normal level of human decency and you have no idea how much that means to the both of them. For Wayne, that’s more than he could ever ask for. He knows as much as he’s resisting, Eddie will leave here and go to school feeling a little bit better. For a brief moment in an empty diner, he can see the world isn’t always out to get him. Sometimes, the world is nice- with pretty girls to talk to and uncles who love you more than life itself.

When you bring out the food, Wayne watches the way your eyes linger on Eddie. You’re also being a little shy. He smiles to himself, keeping his head low while he starts to dig into his food. You ask Eddie about his band, and Wayne watches his nephew’s eyes light up, his usual confidence returning to the forefront as he tells you all about Corroded Coffin. You listen, and Wayne realizes you’re not just placating Eddie, you actually care.

“I’ll have to come to another show sometime,” you say, “I say you guys at The Hideout like a couple months ago actually.”

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes widen in disbelief. You giggle, and nod.

“Yup, you guys were awesome,” you assure him. “If you guys ever sell a tape, let me know. I want one.”

As they finish up their breakfast, you drop off the check, and Eddie thinks he might die when he sees you’ve scribbled your number on the receipt for him. The check has been comped and the note read:

“Wayne, Happy to treat my favorite customer! Eddie, in case you’d want to go out sometime? No pressure.” With your number underneath.

The most recent time you saw Wayne Munson, he pulled you into a hug and thanked you for inviting him over. It’s the first time you and Eddie are hosting a holiday in your new apartment.

He smiles as he looks around. You and Eddie have really done an amazing job making a cozy little life together. He smells the turkey finishing up in the oven and he can’t believe he can finally witness his nephew this happy. The two of you insist he sit in the living room while you both finish cooking for him. He’s enjoying watching the two of you work in the kitchen together, moving synchronously like you’ve done this dance a million times before- and you have.

He settles in and Eddie brings him a beer. Wayne looks around at Eddie’s and your new home and he can’t help but beam with pride. This is all he could’ve asked for Eddie- all he’s ever wanted to see him have. Eddie’s still as dopey grinned and smitten as he was the first day back at the diner. Wayne knows you’re the one- he knew before you or Eddie knew.

Eddie’s his son, even if he’ll never be called Dad. He doesn’t want that anyways. But, he knows your the best daughter-in-law he could have ever asked for. A best friend and a confidant from the first day he met you. He’s so glad to have you both together in his life. Little did he know, that tonight after dinner when he’s long past just full- but not too full for pie- Eddie would hold your hand and you’d both sit across from him, giving him the best news he could possibly hear in this lifetime.

His small trio, will shortly be adding a fourth band member.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x f!reader #wayne munson #joseph quinn stranger things #joseph quinn eddie munson #joseph quinn characters #stranger things fan fic #stranger things

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highvern · 5 months ago

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Drive Me Crazy

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: smut

warnings: strangers to lovers, virgin!JK, dry humping, oral sex, cum eating

Length: ~3.7k

Note: yes i'm insane. no i won't be taking further questions. thank u @gyuswhore for chaperoning my descent into JK madness

summary: You're not the only one with a shitty dating life. Your driver seems to be having a worse night than you can imagine. But things take a turn for the better in the backseat of his car.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

“Uber for Y/N?” you ask, stumbling into the backseat. “Thanks. God, you wouldn’t believe the night I’ve had.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” the man, Ian according to the information on the app, gasps.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” You’re a wreck; makeup running, clothes damp from the rain peppering on the window. The last thing you want is some hot guy as your driver for the short journey back to your apartment but at this point you can’t muster the energy to care.

“Uhhh—”

“You probably don’t want to hear about my shitty night.”

“Well that and—” he starts, cut off before he can say more by your tipsy motormouth.

“Where does a man get off telling me he isn’t interested in gold diggers when he’s a public school teacher? No offense but what gold?” you ramble. “Not to mention, when I told the waiter to split the bill he asked if I thought he didn’t have any money. Like make up your mind dude.”

“What the fuck?” he asks lowly.

You nod in agreement, hands thrown wide in exasperation. “That’s what I’m saying!”

“That’s fucked up.”

The thickness of his voice doesn’t register in your mind, a broken edgy scratching at the edges of your brain but it doesn’t signal any significant interest “Oh, that's not even the worst part.”

“There’s more?”

“He said ‘I asked too many personal questions.’”

“Like?”

“What he liked to do for fun, if he’s originally from the city, do you like dogs or cats? Literally anything I could think of because apparently he’s allergic to carrying a conversation.” In your hand, your phone rings with an unsaved number. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is your Uber. Did you mean to cancel your ride?”

“What?”

“Ian from Uber? I’ve been circling the block and haven’t found you and you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Oh! I’m sorry I’ll just—cancel. Yep. Bye.” You stare at the equelly unease expression on Not-Uber Driver Ian’s face, muddled brain racing. If he isn’t your driver that means you got into the car with a random man.

“Who the fuck are you?” you scream.

“Who the fuck are you?” he yells back.

You fiddle with the door handle, unable to grab a hold with shaky hands. “Oh my god, you’re a kidnapper.”

“I’m not a kidnapper!”

“That’s what a kidnapper would say!” You fumble for the pepper spray in your bag only to find it absent. It’s not your usual bag. It’s the nicer one that barely fits your phone and chapstick. Damn it.

“YOU GOT IN MY CAR,” he argues.

He makes a good point. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I tried but you talk a lot.”

Another good point.

“Oh my god, what the hell,” you gasp. “Why are you sitting here with the doors unlocked? I could have robbed you.”

“I used my last five bucks to buy this ice cream. Just kill me instead.”

You balk. “That’s so sad.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.”

“You’re a horrible kidnapper.”

“And you’re a pretty shitty carjacker so I’d say we’re even.”

If he was dangerous he's had plenty of time to prove it. Instead, when he looks back over the center console, all you see is the red rimmed eyes of a kicked puppy with a bird nest for hair. A ridiculous expression for a man of his size but you pity him nonetheless. He’s harmless. Pathetic. But harmless.

There’s a story about him and you’ve always been curious. “Okay, not-Ian, why are you sitting in a parking lot eating ice cream on a Friday night? Kidnapper thing aside, this is just sad.”

He’s hot. Even in nothing but sweats and his own misery. The intimidating kind of handsome that people, men and women, pine over. Hand themselves over on a silver platter if he so much as asked.

“Thanks,” he grunts, going for another spoon of ice cream.

“So why are you upset?” The rain outside intensifies, setting the scene to bare your souls in his cramped Toyota.

“Ugh…” he hesitates.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I don’t think it can be any more embarrassing than what I just went through.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Why not? If it’s more embarrassing then I won’t steal a bite. Is that chocolate?”

“Cookie dough,” he corrects. “This girl I’ve been talking to ditched me.”

“Because?”

He prepares with a deep breath, steeling himself against whatever motive his fling had. “I’m a virgin.”

“What?” you ask dumbly. Virgin.

Chin tipped back, he swipes at his face in embarrassment. “I told you it's embarrassing.”

“You’re eating your feelings because you’re a virgin?”

“Yes.” He waits for your interjection. When it doesn’t come he hesitantly continues. “And the last person I told laughed in my face and started hooking up with my roommate. So…”

“What a bitch.”

“Yeah. People just assume I’m some kind of man whore.” He explains, head banging against the wheel. “But I’ve never done anything besides… ya know?”

“I have no idea, complete stranger.”

“Like hand stuff.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a virgin,” you snort. “Move over, I’m coming up.”

Shimmying into the front seat takes more coordination than you’re prepared for. The hem of your dress rises to brazen heights, a draft curling around the edge of your panties. Its a feeling you assumed would be happening with your date and not in the car with a random stranger. But beggars can’t be choosers. At least it’s good ice cream.

He pointedly avoids looking anywhere close to your legs. Polite. Innocent. Virginal. How cute.

“Thank you. That makes me feel so much better.” His eyes roll as you settle into the passenger seat, snatching the container and taking a bite from the same spoon he’d been using.

“Sorry,” you say after swallowing. “Is it because you don’t want to? Because that girl can go fuck herself then.”

“No, I just, I don’t know. I get nervous? They’re expecting someone who knows what they’re doing and I have no idea. And then all I can think about is what if I’m bad at it which makes me more nervous and then I feel like throwing up.”

“Please tell me you haven’t thrown up on a girl.”

“Ew, no,” he laughs, taking a bite for himself. “I just make an excuse to slow down and then leave.”

“Okay. Well…” You try to think of something, anything, that could make him feel better. It’s not everyday a stranger spills their guts about lacking sexual experience. “So what if you’re bad? It’s not like you can’t get better.”

“Okay, but what girl wants to sleep with a guy who’s bad in bed?”

“How do you know you’re bad if you’ve never even tried? It’s different if you’re bad and you don’t care. Just tell whoever you're with you’ve never done it before. If they don’t jump at the chance to teach you then they can fuck off.”

“Well, Mina rubbed my face in it—”

“Oh fuck her. She seems like a bitch.”

“You’re not wrong,” he says.

Rain drizzles on the windshield, obscuring the lights into messy streaks. A flood of memories surrounding your own virginity rush to the forefront.

Your college boyfriend, Jimin, wanted to wait. It was cute. High school sweethearts going to the same school, taking similar classes, holding hands in the library. You thought he wasn’t ready and you respected it, found it endearing that he wasn’t like most of the guys your friends dated that couldn’t wait to do it.

Or you did until you decided to surprise Jimin for his birthday with breakfast in bed and got your own surprise. A girl, naked in his bed, Jimin’s own clothes scattered around the room.

You broke up with him right there. Two days of crying later, you invited your lab partner, the one Jimin couldn’t stand, over.

It was Yoongi that sent a selfie of you two cuddled up in bed to Jimin. He still likes to cash in on that favor whenever he needs a dog sitter.

Yoongi knew there were no feelings involved. A simple favor in the form of revenge against a shitty ex. Maybe not-Ian is your chance to pay it forward. By the looks of things, you wouldn’t be suffering.

“Ya know, some girls like guys who are inexperienced. It’s hot knowing you can teach someone how to be good in bed. Like an ego boost.” You shrug. If he wasn’t looking at your legs before but he sure is now. Pink ears and round eyes, his fingers twitch in his lap as you suck the spoon clean. At least the hour spent shaving your legs isn’t going to waste. “Besides, you obviously care how the other person feels, which is more than some dudes.”

“Why would someone not care if the other person feels good?” he asks, tone laced with disgust. “That seems like the entire point.”

“The world is full of mysteries.”

“My name is Jungkook by the way.”

Jungkook. Fitting somehow. It tastes good on your tongue. Like the cookie dough ice cream.

“Y/N.”

You end up in his lap in true stereotypical fashion. A too long silence, his eyes on your mouth and yours on his. Someone leans forward and now you know Jungkook is a great kisser with even greater upper body strength.

His inexperience shows in the fine details: shaky hands, hesitant tongue, waiting for you to take the lead as not to offend. It’s endearing. Someone as big as him treating you with such gentleness. But it means he’s thinking about messing this up and that’s the opposite of what you want.

You kiss him deeper, a grip on the side of his neck that he eagerly surrenders too. Your other hand wedges between your chests. Teeth nipping at his lip, you rock against him, palming against the soft cotton sweats until he’s plump in your hand.

“God,” he chokes. His own hands busy themself on your body, one at the seat of your ass, teasing the edge of your dress where bare skin peaks out while the offers a tight grip at your chest, pinching your nipple in desperate retaliation.

“Feel good?” You rut again, a tease for your own pleasure in the form of Jungkook’s heavy breath. It’s decent contact on your core, not enough to get you off but plenty for right now.

Kissing is well in his realm of experience. Obvious from how quickly he finds his bearings, licking behind your teeth. It’s good. Better than dry humping his thigh in the front seat should be. Vision dark from his hands frantic at your ass, thighs rising to meet every torturous curl against the heat of his lap.

You fall into his shoulder, drool staining his sweater as you pant. “Ever had your dick sucked?”

“No.”

A vein raises across his neck and becomes your new guidemap. Your hand at his crotch squeezes, his cock twitching at the action. “Do you want to?”

“You don’t have to,” he hisses.

You squeeze his cock again, enough for a needy drive of his hips in response. “I want to.”

“Seriously?” he marvels.

“If it’s cool with you.” You nose along his jaw, teeth scraping red over his skin. His stomach dips under your hand. “Get in the back, I don’t need to get caught with your dick in my mouth.”

“Holy shit, don’t say that.” He kisses you again, firmer this time.

You crawl back through the narrow opening between the front seats, ass on full display for Jungkook’s eyes. The heat of his palm ghosts over your legs but he doesn’t touch. The deliberate arch in your spine isn’t enough to break his self control just yet.

He comes next. The struggle is endearing, half stuck between the seats and wiggling forward. “I think I’m stuck.”

“Why didn’t you just go around?” You snort, grabbing around his arms and pulling to no avail.

“Too late now.”

You're both laughing. Breathless because Jungkook is lodged between the seats with zero hope. “Why are you so heavy?”

He wiggles through with your help, nearly elbowing you in the head in the process. But he’s in the seat with his lap as prime real estate. You try to commandeer the space once again but Jungkook stops you. Instead, he settles between your legs, weight pinning you into the door. Broad shoulders block out the light but you take it in stride, fisting the back of his sweater as he finds your pulse.

“Can I go down on you?” He nuzzles down your throat, mouthing the spots he’s learning make you putty in his hands.

“Yeah, sure,” you hiccup. “That’s fine.”

Jungkook crams between your legs, bending in half on the floor like a contortionist. The sparse kisses across your thighs would be a blatant tease if nervousness wasn’t rolling off him in waves. He’s eating pussy for the first time and acting like it’s open heart surgery.

“Calm down.” You brush a hand through his hair, attempting to be comforting.

“I am calm.” A bold faced lie. Even in the darkness of the backseat the signs of his impending nerves are obvious.

“You’re shaking,” you say. “I’ll tell you what feels good. You’re not gonna mess it up.”

An open mouth on your core kiss leaves you sweating with a weak hum. At least he knows where the clit is. Or has a vague idea of its presence. Jungkook presses his face further into the cotton, suffocating himself without realizing.

“O-oh,” you hitch.

Humiliation brews from such a visceral reaction to something as basic as a kiss over your panties. But Jungkook is out of his depth here and any reaction will stroke his confidence.

He ducks away, watching you with rapt attention. You’re the teacher and he’s a student eager for whatever validation that may fall from your lips. “Good?”

“Yeah, do it again,” you praise.

He nods before diving back in, throwing your legs over his shoulders for better reach. Your pulse jumps with juvenile eagerness. Like it’s the first time you’re left with a boy unsupervised and his hand is the first real thing to touch you between the legs. It makes you feel dirty. Has your hairline sweat and tongue go dry. A bold wash of his tongue couples the next kiss, hot and wet as he laps against the fabric until your own arousal mixes with spit.

"You fucking liar,” you croak. The back of your head knocks against the window, hips rolling into his mouth.

"What?” Jungkook asks, leaning back but just barely. His breath fans over your skin, a shiver crawling up your spine. “Did I do something—"

“It’s good. So good,” you praise. “Touch me more.”

He jumps at the chance. Your panties tear down your thighs, out of the way with some rough maneuvering. Bare for his eyes, Jungkook takes more than a fill before diving in for another taste. But not until he spits on your clit and rubs in the mess with his thumb. Your thighs spread wider to accommodate a hard pass of his mouth, more wet kisses burning your cheeks.

“Jungkook, fuck,” you sigh. “When you said ‘hand stuff’ what did you mean?”

“I’ve touched a vagina before if that's what you're asking.”

You swat his hand. “Don’t say vagina, it makes me feel like I’m at the gynecologist.”

“Sorry, a pussy.”

“Don’t say it like that either, weirdo. Have you fingered one?”

Pointed silence is answer enough.

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna make fun of you. Just don’t put a finger in my ass and you’ll be fine.”

He doesn't laugh at your poor attempt to cut the tension but he releases a weighted sigh, muscles sagging an inch. Better. Instead, he focuses on stroking you to life between your folds, fingertips nudging your bud teasingly.

“Use your mouth some more and then finger me too,” you beg.

“Uh—how many? I don't wanna hurt you." He’s unsure despite the obvious twitch in your thighs. It burns depravity through your veins. His innocence is hot. Jungkook doesn’t even realize how fucked up he has you from some softcore porn level touching.

"All of them. I don't care, I’ll tell you if it’s too much."

One hand firm on your stomach, keeping your dress out of the way as he spreads your insides with two. The first strokes are meek. Nothing to scream over but he’s learning and that’s what's important. Seconds tick by and Jungkook finds a hesitant rhythm. Wet noises echo with each slow sheath, reserved but stretching you all the same. The wet strokes of his tongue are there too, placating just in case. A soft curl of his fingers makes your hips cant into his mouth.

The fogged windows are a dead give away to what's playing out in the backseat. If anyone stumbles down the sidewalk then you’re both dead but Jungkook’s mouth is distracting in the worst way.

And then he licks between his fingers, tongue slipping past his knuckles for a pure taste of your arousal. You go fuzzy at the edges, thighs squeezing tight until he’s forced to keep them spread or risk having his head crushed.

“Oh–fuck me, god.”

It’s not fair. For him to be good at this so quickly. To delude himself into thinking he could possibly be bad, trying to convince you he’d be bad. Complete unfair how ill prepared you were for Jungkook worshiping your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better.

He really needs to be more confident because, in the cramped back seat of his car, you’re losing your mind and it’s barely been ten minutes.

“Can I—” he asks around your clit.

“Do whatever you want, just don’t stop,” you ramble. “Jungkook, fuck.”

A hand of your own sinks into his hair, angling his chin for better access. Wet echoes fill the car, sharp mewls from your lips adding to the noise. Nerves blazing, your ride his mouth for all its worth. Eager slippery circles of his tongue against your clit intensify, built on praising moans of his name.

“Fuck. Tastes good,” he grunts. A squeeze of your hand, the one not pulling his hair and then he’s finding your chest, blind groping until you guide him to your nipple and curve into the sting of his grip. He twists it. Hard.

You want to cry. The sweat suck of his mouth, fingers confidently curling it that spot that makes the air thinner in your lungs. Moans die between your teeth. Too quick into the next sensation to revel. There isn’t a thought other than Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

“Jungkook!” you cry, grinding into his fingers. Your teeth clench as a third one stretches that extra inch. Stiff in the thighs, you force yourself down into the friction. His tongue hardens, perfect for use as you hump his face weakly.

Your legs kick, scrambling under the sharp pleasure. He’s got you melting into nothing right on his carseat. Jungkook doesn’t lean back to ask for more confirmation; just takes the signs for what they are and keeps going with renewed stamina at the promise of your pleasure.

“I’m gonna—oh, god. Yessss,” you hiss. Nails sharp against the back of his neck, Jungkook buries his face in your cunt.

You go rigid, voice breaking into a desperate whimper. Jungkook has the sense to keep going, lashing at your clit over and over with each desperate pulse of pleasure through your veins. Flashes flare behind the darkness of your eyes squeezed tight. You make a few more desperate noises, lurching in his hold before falling lip and worn.

“Fuck, okay. Okay,” you whine, pushing him away from your core before the stimulation becomes too much.

His mouth is drenched, cheeks and chin smeared with your orgasm. A flash of tongue collects some of the mess but you drag him into a kiss before he can go for seconds. First time eating pussy and he’s one for one. If that doesn’t help his confidence then nothing else will.

“Give me a second and I’ll blow you,” you pant into his lips.

“I-it’s okay.”

You pout at the brush off, a deep kiss as you invade his space. “I promise I want to.”

Your hand goes for his pants just to be captured with his own. His fingers are still soaked from your insides. “No, I…I came too.”

“Really?” you ask in awe.

Jungkook is embarrassed again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. That’s hot.” You kiss him again with a gentle suckle along the curve of his lower lip. Jungkook drinks it in, crowding you back into the door again like you aren’t a pile of mush. Your back hurts from hunching over for so long but you let him keep you tangled up for a little while longer just to feel the shuddering exhale from his nose across your cheek. “Can I see?”

He swallows thickly before rolling down his sweats. The thin fabric of his boxers are wet, sticky under your shaky hand. You dip below the waist band, fingers grazing the limp ridge of his cock. He’s stuck in the inbetween of soft and hard but still hot and heavy in your hold. Your core throbs in interest at the feeling.

Jungkook shivers as you swipe at the slit, collecting a bead of cum. You want to get your mouth on him but he looks like he might cry if you keep playing with it.

When your hand retreats, rising to your lips for a taste, his eyes round, mouth gaping over silent words. The pink of your tongue comes out, lapping at the thick mess coating your thumb.

“Is it okay if I get your number?” he asks after the initial shock wears away.

“Yeah,” you snort. “You can have my number. You can give me a ride home too. And we can do that again in my bed.”

The glee on his face is worth the disgusting mess between your thighs. “Hell yeah.”

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pucksandpower · 6 months ago

Text

Worlds Apart

Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader

Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you

Warnings: Jos Verstappen

Based on a request by @butterflyexe

The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.

“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”

You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.

You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”

“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”

“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”

The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”

“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”

“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.

Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”

Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”

The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”

“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”

A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.

Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”

Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”

Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”

“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.

Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”

“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”

You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”

His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”

You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”

He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”

“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”

A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”

“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”

Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”

You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”

“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”

You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.

“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”

“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.

It’s going to be okay.

He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.

Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.

***

Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.

“Max! A word, if you please.”

He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”

Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”

“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”

Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.

“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”

“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”

Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”

It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.

“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”

Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”

Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”

He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”

Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.

“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.

Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.

You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.

The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️

He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?

After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.

After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.

“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”

Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”

So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.

“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”

Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”

“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”

Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”

“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”

“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”

As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.

When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”

“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”

Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”

“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”

“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”

You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”

He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”

“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

“Sweet dreams, liefje.”

Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.

Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.

So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.

As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.

Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.

***

You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.

For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.

Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.

Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.

Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.

That’s no ordinary car.

That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.

Just like-

“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...

“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.

His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.

He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.

“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.

Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.

“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”

“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.

“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.

A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.

“Who is that guy?”

“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”

“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”

The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.

“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”

Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.

“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”

He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.

This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.

But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.

Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.

“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”

There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.

“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.

“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.

“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”

“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.

“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”

You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.

“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”

You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.

“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.

“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”

There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.

But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.

“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”

Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.

“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”

A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.

“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.

Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.

“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”

And neither of you can wait.

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hydrobunny · 1 year ago

Text

meet me in the pouring rain

tags: comfort, established relationship, aftermath of fights, happy ending!!!!!

obviously, you two had your fights. it would be stupid to think you didn't: stupid to assume the two of you were constantly perfect.

you curl up by the door of your bedroom, trying to stop yourself from crying.

you hated this. you hated how you had expected anything different. of course sae itoshi would choose football over you. it was what he had been doing for his entire life.

but why had you thought today would be something different? just because it was your birthday?

you had asked him if you two were doing anything so excitedly, so stupidly. he had looked at you with the blankest expression you had seen.

and of course when you tried to press the matter, he had snapped at you that he was busy- to not bother him before practice.

and the words had spewed out of your mouth, telling him to get on with it and get out of the house.

sae hadn't argued further, merely blinking at you in vague confusion before slamming the door behind him.

he hadn't returned for lunch. and with the sheer amount of rain outside, you knew he couldn't be practicing still. (well, you mused, there was a slight chance.)

but that meant he had to be taking shelter somewhere away from your home, somewhere with other people.

lightning crackled outside. the rain was really coming on in droves now. you curl further into a ball and listen to your own heartbeat, steady and calming.

the notification sound of your phone was a scare, and you flinch, hard. you look around for the source of the noise. the dings continue on and on.

when you finally find your phone, you're stunned to see the contact sae <33

the messages are a clear change from his usual short ones, practically an entire chain of frantic words. it's a drastic change compared to the dead silence he's been giving you today.

y/n

fuck i'm sorry

i didn't mean what i did in the morning

i forgot the date i'm so sorry

y/n?

i'm outside. you don't have to come if you don't want to. i'll stay.

you stare at that last message. sae was-

you run to her window, heart rate rising. you can barely see past the sheer amount of rain slamming down.

but sae was there. you can make out his vague form, the rain unforgivably landing on top of his head.

you almost fall down the stairs with how fast you run down. you skid to a stop in front of the door.

your hand turns on the knob.

“sae,” you breathe out.

sae looks at you with a bouquet of soaked roses and a small box, looking more like a drowned rat than the boyfriend you knew.

“you're going to get sick,” you sputter. “what were you-”

“i love you,” sae interrupts, eyes glowing with an intensity unfamiliar to you.

you've only seen that look on the field, when he's truly concentrating.

"i'm so fucking sorry," he continues. "i need you to know that you are my first priority. i know i don't act like it- but you're the best thing that's happened to me."

your mouth hangs open, your voice weak. "come inside."

he does. you gently take the roses from him and place them on the table. he pockets the box, and you don't question him.

sae waits patiently for you to speak.

"i'm sorry too," you finally say. "i shouldn't have-"

he grabs onto your hands, squeezing reassuringly. "don't apologize. im the one who forgot. it's not-it'll never be your fault."

you swallow. "i love you. but you should really go change-"

"before that," sae digs back into his pocket and pulls out the neatly wrapped box. "here."

the wrapping paper gives easily underneath your nails. you eye the box warily. it's clearly jewelry, so you crack the thing open-

"jesus christ-" you fumble the box.

sae catches it easily, raising one eyebrow.

"you got a ring?"

"it's not what you think it is." he hums, gently taking the ring out of the box. it's a pretty little thing, all delicate and fragile looking. "my proposal wouldn't be this tacky."

you stare at him. "so the ring is..."

"a promise," he answers as he slides it carefully onto your finger. "for a better one eventually."

the blood rushes to your face immediately. sae doesn't seem phased at all, even if he's just confessed that he's going to marry you.

"i-"

sae sneezes. once, and then twice.

you grab his arm. "okay. you are getting into some warm clothes."

he frowns, but follows you up the stairs anyway.

when the two of you reach the bedroom, you stop him by the door.

"you know, i only wanted two words."

his head tilts almost imperceptibly, confusion leaking-

sae smiles. "happy birthday."

#itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock #blue lock x reader #hydrobunny #why do they not have a porch with a roof? who knows

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finalgirllx · 6 days ago

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guitar teacher!ellie x smartass!reader thank you for all the meet-cute requests @thatdammchickennugget -- they are my absolute favorite and this one is a classic. i plopped a lot of my real life into this lmao. i kinda wanna do a spicy part 2 here. idk. we'll see!

you wait with bated breath inside the cramped, soundproof lesson room at your local music store, where you signed up on a whim to learn the guitar. it’s an impulse decision, really—all but doomed to be just another tick off the ever-expanding list of random cool skills you’ve tried. at the very least, you hope maybe you can whip this one out to “impress the ladies.” maybe even serenade them with some songs and actually sound good doing it—lord knows many have endured the clunky chords of a red hot chili peppers song from some mediocre man already.

you clutch your new guitar semi-awkwardly, plucking the strings and lightly tapping the cool basswood. you can tell that the tune is off, but damn if you know how to fix it. you wonder if you’ll abandon it after the first 40 minutes, just like most other hobbies you’ve sampled.

in your hasty decision-making, you hadn’t even requested a specific teacher. you’d only ever seen middle-aged men employed here, which is fine. you trust their experience, picturing some warm-hearted old rocker coming in and showing off his tried-and-true tricks. what you don’t expect, then, is when the door opens and a girl your age enters the room, extending her hand to shake yours.

“hi, my name is ellie. you’re the one here to learn guitar, right?”

you shake her hand, eyes glancing over her form, trying not to seem like a dumbfounded creep. jeez, she’s cute. she has reddish-brown hair in a choppy bob, freckled cheeks, green eyes, and a dorky smile. she’s adorned in a faded blue jacket rolled up to her elbows, revealing arm tattoos, and a ragged t-shirt with a band you’ve never heard of. and this is the cutie who will watch you fiddle with out-of-tune strings and act like a complete dumbass? you half hope the ground will swallow you whole.

“yeah,” you manage to reply once you remember how to speak. “that’s me. word of warning: i really don’t know what i’m doing, so i’m, like, a total beginner.”

ellie chuckles reassuringly, likely having heard that tired statement a million times over. she gently picks the guitar up from your lap, inspecting its quality. of course, in her hands, the instrument looks like it was made to be held by her. “hey, that’s fine. everyone starts somewhere, right?” she gets to tuning the strings as naturally as breathing.

“so, what’s got you interested in learning?” ellie suddenly asks, just to fill the dense silence of the room. your mouth runs dry, struggling with a response that doesn’t sound as idiotic as “i’m an obnoxious flirt.” she catches onto your fumbling, adding, “what? wanting to look like a badass guitar god, hm?”

“calling yourself a badass, then?” the tongue-in-cheek question escapes before you can rein it in. ellie pauses her tuning to look up at you, and your heart drops to your stomach. she’s going to kick you out, you reckon.

“i mean… you are staring at me with your mouth open. must be in awe of my guitarist badassery or something. i don’t mind,” ellie replies with a knowing, smug smile, then returns to helping your sorry ass tune up your guitar.

yep, you definitely need that hole in the ground right now.

after that rocky introduction, the lesson takes on a more professional atmosphere, with ellie explaining the basics. she teaches you about the body of the instrument, the strings, and some basic history—you name it, and she knows it. it’s clear that ellie is enthusiastic about the guitar, her interest rubbing off on you, which does not help your case with how cute you already find her.

you try your best to be a good student, which isn’t the energy you typically bring to all your other short-lived courses. there is something special about ellie’s passion—how her lips move as she speaks about it, how her eyes light up, her fingers curling against the strings while demonstrating songs—it compels your attention. you listen respectfully to the multitude of rambles she embarks on and cuts short whenever ellie realizes she has led you too astray from the basics.

at approximately the 38th minute of the 40-minute lesson, you realize that you haven’t attempted to actually play the damn thing. ellie must have come to the same realization, flashing a tilted smile, hoping you aren’t too annoyed that this instructional course devolved into a ted talk, a worry she couldn’t possibly be more wrong about.

ellie assists your clumsy self in positioning the guitar onto your lap, showing you how to hold it correctly. the closeness has your heart racing, and every touch sends shivers through you—you hope the internal gay panic doesn’t translate outwardly. ellie takes her time helping you press your fingers onto the correct strings and frets to play a simple “c chord.” her fingers guiding yours with such precision causes your thoughts to veer into thousands of inappropriate possibilities. the pose feels a tad contorted, your fingers placed in a way totally foreign to you, but her reassurance builds your confidence to try. she crouches before you, making final adjustments before her greens glance back up to you expectantly, waiting for you to try.

you strum the one chord—a passable sound that resonates throughout the guitar. it gets the job done but, of course, lacks the flow that ellie could have had. but ellie is proud, her genuine smile and silly applause flustering you.

you find yourself feeling more accomplished in this single instance than in the last three skills you’ve tried combined.

“good start, guitar god. i’ll show you another one—if you think you’ll stick to a second lesson,” ellie then suggests, an endearing smile on her face as she watches you absent-mindedly fiddle with the individual strings a bit more. an effective bargaining tactic for sure.

“yep, no problem.” easiest commitment you’ve ever made.

"hell yeah," ellie rejoices, reaching out one last time to high-five you. she looks delighted. just happy to have a new, consistent student, of course--that has to be it.

you sign up for another lesson after—and maybe another. and another.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams tlou2 #tlou2 #lesbian #wlw

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hotvintagepoll · 6 months ago

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Propaganda

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

Sophia Loren (Marriage Italian Style, Houseboat)—Major Italian star, first actress to win an Oscar for a performance not in English (for Two Women (1960)) and later when Roberto Benigni won an Oscar in 1999 he jumped over the chairs towards the stage going "Sophia Sophia!!" because he was running towards Sophia Loren and said he cared more about her than the Oscar, that's the effect she had on people. She was big in the 60s already even though she gained a lot more notoriety after that. And I mean. Can we take a moment and just.

This is round 6 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Sophia Loren:

She has maxed out all her stats: beauty, elegance, sensuality, she's got it all. her mesmerizing eyes, her sensual mouth, her sharp face shape, her everything is so striking and unlike any other beauty in films. she was also voted the world most beautiful woman when she was freaking 65

im submitting her in honor of my dad bc she was the first celebrity crush of his he ever admitted to me and my sister :) and he was right. shes so pretty

OSCAR WINNER. Worked with some of the hottest leading men in Hollywood but remained faithful to her husband whom she had a loving marriage with till he died (even though Cary Grant almost tempted her once, it's complicated)

One of the most well-known sex symbols of the Golden Age of Hollywood, and unlike some unfortunate others, she seems to have been pretty well at peace with occupying that status. She made assertiveness and a tempestuous temper seem glamorous, and although she's famous for side-eying Jayne Manisfield's cleavage, honestly? She's one to talk.

Absolutely, drop-dead sexy, also a hard working, extraordinarily talented actress who didn't shy away from the less glamorous roles to gift us some gritty, memorable performances

Submitting this on behalf of my dad, who knows nothing of tumblr or this blog, but I remember being a kid watching Houseboat while my mom thirsted after Cary Grant, dad thirsted after Sophia Loren, and I was excited that they lived on a boat. Anyway, she's extremely beautiful and was an international star, doing a ton of movies in Italy before being recognized in the US.

JUST LOOK AT HER Y'ALL

Very smart and beautiful, the characters that she played (I mean those in the movies that I put in the previous question) are as strong and determined as her which I think adds to her hotness.

Global superstar and my late grandfather's long time movie star crush and for a man as quiet as he was, and as hopelessly devoted to his wife as he was, the fact that I know that means she was EXCEPTIONAL.

Big in the chest, snatched in the waist, pretty in the face 😳

Sexy, beautiful, deep. A real star.

Her performance in "Man of La Mancha" is just so very captivating. Dubbed as "the Italian Marilyn Monroe", she looks beautiful in any movie and at any age.

Forget the exotic sexpot of her Hollywood films and go back to her Italian career: sparking with Marcello Mastroianni as the woman who drives him mad and outwits all his fumbling attempts at macho posturing in their early films, and showing a tender side in their 1970s films. Sophia isn’t self-conscious about who she is or her beautiful body: she enjoys being herself and she wants us all to enjoy ourselves too.

She starred in films as a sexually emancipated persona and was one of the best known sex symbols of the time. She is a great cook and her filmography is immense.

On the misattributed quote that Sophia owed everything to spaghetti: 'Did you actually say the quote frequently attributed to you, "Everything you see I owe to spaghetti"?' "Non è vero! It's not true! It's such a silly thing. I owe it to spaghetti, no, no. Completely made up."

Marlene Dietrich:

ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face

its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies…. most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you.

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender

youtube

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

youtube

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"

#sophia loren #marlene dietrich #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 6 #Youtube

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wittlesissyb4by · 1 month ago

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I'm not sure how many days its been.

34? 58? 167? There's no telling. The blindfold blocks out most of my sense of time. I used to measure it based off of diaper changes, by my count I got one every 12 hours or so, but I lost track of that a long time ago too. You would think being confined to a cage with little else to do would keep your mind focused, but if anything it's the opposite.

I'm in a haze most of the time, alone with my thoughts. Thoughts of how I traipsed the internet all hours of the day, begging, pleading for someone to make me their little diaper slave. I thought it was what I wanted, I really did, but they always say the reality is never as good as the fantasy.

I wish I would have believed them.

My day (or what I think is a day) usually starts with a kick to the kennel to wake me up. I'm let out, and allowed to stretch my legs a bit while I fumble around in the darkness of the immovable blindfold. My diaper is given a firm and thorough groping, whatever its contents are get mushed and squished and played with. It all makes me groan as my cock screams inside its cage.

Usually, my gag is removed, and something else is placed in my mouth. Sometimes it's a bottle of disgusting formula, which I'm sure is laced with laxatives, because I usually spend several hours groaning and defiling my diaper afterwards. I also wouldn't be surprised if there's Viagra in there too, because my cock always gets stiff and presses into the excruciating spikes inside my chastity device. Every now and then I'm given solid foods, just not anything I have to chew. I never know what array of mush will enter my mouth, but it's rarely ever appetizing.

Sometimes my mouth is filled with Master's cock. Actually, a lot of times. He really enjoys me servicing him, which, I guess is what I wanted, but he tends to be rather rough on my throat, and must really enjoy the sounds of me gagging. Several times he's brought over several men for me to service, they take great joy in fucking my face as well.

I'm always so thankful when my diaper gets changed. At least for a little bit, because I know something is going to end up in my ass, it's just a question of what. I'm always thankful when I feel the warm flesh of Master's member enter me. If it's not, it's usually something much bigger (and his dick is already big) and much more uncomfortable. The toys get larger and larger each time, I'm surprised how much I can take at this point. If i'm lucky, Master will let me fuck myself against it until I cum inside my cage. But that's only happened exactly three times. Don't worry, I haven't lost track of that one.

From there, it kind of varies. Master must run some sort of vlog because I constantly hear dings and pings and he always talks about what the 'viewers' want before subjecting me to more and more depraved acts. Let's just say my dirty diapers don't always make it into the pail, and my blindfold isn't the only thing blocking my sense of sight sometimes.

Overall, I miss my normal life. I miss not having to wear a straitjacket at all times, and having the use of my arms. I miss sleeping spread-eagle on a cushy bed instead of being crammed inside of a cage. Speaking of cages, I miss my cock not shrieking in pain every time it tries to get an erection. I miss using the toilet, which I never thought I'd say. I loved using my diapers before this, but that was before I knew how bad diaper rashes could be. I miss daylight. I miss steak. I miss not constantly having a sore throat. I miss...everything.

What I thought I wanted was nowhere even close to this. So, though it has been said many a time, I mean this from the bottom of my soiled diaper:

Be careful what you wish for.

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sunarc · 1 year ago

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After Hours

𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖊 1

toji x reader

Synopsis: What happens when you meet someone willing to make all you naughty dreams come true?

CW: virginity loss, corruption kink, size kink, alcohol consumption, shy reader, toji is a player, cum eating, Shiu is being a daddy in this per usual, modern au, afab reader, bar owner toji, 5.1k words, please let me know if i missed anything

A/N:I’m so happy to present day 1 of Kinktober!!! I’m so excited for y’all to read please enjoy!

You sipped your drink to the sound of rock music playing loudly from the speakers. You watched as hot sweaty bodies crowded around a pool table swinging money in the air while yelling out bets. The bar was lively, it was loud and there you sat, quietly at the end of the bar, watching everyone, enjoying the show. The bar had people from all walks of life come through. Some would come through and tell you stories you could never imagine, some telling you of where they were headed and some just a little sleezy looking for a quick fuck. You were never the type for hookups. You honestly couldn’t imagine being with a random stranger for one fun night. You enjoyed being in this space. It was fun to see so many different people and get to experience another’s life just for a few minutes.

“I can’t possibly imagine doing something so scary like that” you said, shocked listening to the story being told by the big figure sitting in front of you smoking a cigarette.

“You wouldn’t believe all of the crazy things I’ve done sweetheart” he pulled a long drag from his cigarette then turned to you.

“You got any stories?” he asked

“Who? Me? I- uh no I don’t really do much” you fumbled over your words suddenly becoming nervous by the question.

It was true, you didn’t really do much. You were honestly as innocent as they come. You didn’t drink, not because you thought it was bad but more so because the taste of alcohol was quite repulsive. You had never had a boyfriend before, hell you had never engaged in sex before. You just never found someone worth giving yourself away to. The idea was honestly scary. Having to get naked and show your body to another person was honestly scary yet something about it felt so intriguing. Something about sleeping with someone and having them take you in ways you wouldn’t dare speak about out loud was almost thrilling. You shook the thought away.

“I really mostly like to just hear about other people’s stories, I find them fascinating really.” You said, giving a shy smile.

He nodded his head silently taking in your words.

“Hm, I guess I could understand” he took a drag finishing his cigarette. “But what about living?”

You gave a confused look.

Living?

“What do you mean, I am living?” the question almost sounded silly

“No, you're listening to other people live. You’re basically living vicariously through other people.” He scoffed. “Why not enjoy the thrills of life yourself instead of hearing it from other people?”

The question left you speechless. You sat staring at the man's mouth slightly open unsure of what to say.

Why weren’t you living?

You went to work and came to this hole in the wall bar every night just to listen to stories and drink juice. When were you going to be the one telling the stories?

“You bothering my customers Shiu?” a loud voice interrupted your thoughts.

Toji, the bar owner, walked over to the two of you cleaning a glass with a smirk.

“Bothering? I could never. I think that might be your job.” he chuckled.

“How you doing pretty? Need another drink?” Toji asked, looking down at your almost empty glass.

“Hi Toji, I’m well today. I’d love another juice thankyou” you said smiling softly.

Ever since you first walked into the bar Toji had been as kind as ever. His smile was always inviting. He was tall, buff and handsome. He always left you feeling starstruck as he moved behind the counter muscles flexing in his tight shirt smiling handsomely at customers as they handed him large tips. He always gave you free drinks mostly because you only ordered juice. He was even nice enough to let you stay after closing and keep him company while he cleaned and told you stories of before he owned the bar.

“Your friend wasn’t bothering me” you said as he handed you a full glass. “I was probably bothering him,” you laughed.

Toji smiled and leaned forward on his elbows.

“I’m sure a pretty girl like you could never bother anyone.”

You looked down smiling at the remark. Toji was a big flirt with everyone. If a pretty girl walked in and looked like she had big pockets he would somehow always flirt his way into an unusually large tip.

“I was just offering a little advice,” Shiu said as he pulled out another cigarette, putting it between his lips.

“Last time you gave someone advice they died” Toji commented as he fixed a drink for a regular.

“They took it a little too literally, that isn’t my fault” he lit the cigarette pulling a long drag.

The two bantered back and forth arguing over his advice.

“He actually told me something really helpful” You interrupted.

“Oh yeah and what was it exactly?” Toji leaned over the counter dangerously close to you. He bit his lip as he stared at you waiting for you to answer. You shied away suddenly feeling nervous under his gaze.

“I- well it was just about me living life that’s all” you stumbled over your words.

Toji smirked at you

“Now why would he say such a thing doll?” he seemed intrigued as he sat up and poured a shot for himself and Shui.

“I guess , well , I’m just not living out my fantasies…” your voice died out towards the end of your sentence.

“Not living out your fantasies?” Toji rested his head in his hand with a smirk playing on his face.

“Tell me more about that” his voice was low as he asked for more. You sat in front of him watching his movements almost hypnotized by the way he spoke so smoothly. Toji was an intimidating guy. No matter how many nights you spent sitting chatting with him about any and everything you never failed to grow nervous under his dark gaze.

“I uh I shouldn’t talk too much about it” you let out a nervous chuckle.

Toji sat up letting out a small sigh.

“All right then, keep your secrets,” he laughed.

You gave a shy smile before sipping your drink. It would have been hard to admit in front of two obviously attractive men that you fantasized about losing your virginity. The topic seemed so taboo. You could imagine them pushing for more details. Why hadn’t you lost your virginity? What are you waiting for? Are you some kind of saint, too good for sex?None of the above. The right person just hasn’t come along yet, someone to send chills through your body just from their voice. You wanted someone who would make you feel something, someone worth it. You sat in silence stuck on the previous conversation. You hadn’t noticed the bar slowly emptying out. Drunk bodies stumbled out slurring words as they called their rides.

“You sticking with me, pretty girl?” Toji’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

You nodded your head with a small smile, it wouldn’t hurt having another late night conversation with Toji while he closed.You looked around noticing Shui pulling out his last cigarette before throwing back the rest of his drink.

“I’m leaving you, two have a good night” he turned to you “I meant what I said live a little, kid”

“Hey what about me Shiu got any advice for me ?” he teased

Shiu walked to the door before turning around

“Hm, actually yes, go to hell” he smirked and left without another word.

Toji scuffed as he wiped down the counter.

“Asshole,” he mumbled.

You laughed at the encounter and looked around at the now empty bar. It was nice to look at apart from the scattered beer and glasses. The bar had nice decor, it was one of the main factors that attracted you to the place.

“So any new stories for me?” you asked, watching as Toji came from behind the counter with a broom sweeping the place.

“You like my stories that much?” he asked, half his attention on you, half on cleaning.

“You spun around on the bar stool laughing to yourself at the childish action.

“I think you have fun things to say” you thinking to yourself for a moment “And well I guess I really like your voice” you mumbled the last part.

Toji chuckled, stopping his actions. He looked at you with a smirk.

“You like my voice huh?”

You looked away suddenly embarrassed by your confession.

“I mean well you- it” you stammered

“It’s okay doll” Toji walked closer to you lowering his voice in the process.

“I could talk all you want” he said “ But I’d more so like to hear something about you” he said as he came close standing between your legs as you sat facing him on the stool.

“Something about me?” you asked slightly confused.

“Yeah, I mean you sit with me while I clean all the time and you listen to me go on and on about stories for days yet, you never talk to me about yourself.” he said leaning closer to you.

Your breath hitched feeling the heat from his body as he closed the space between you two.

“For example I’d love to continue that conversation from earlier, you know the one about those fantasies of yours.”

He leaned down eye level to you just a breath away. His lips were only inches away from yours. You wanted to lean in just to see how soft his lips would be. Would he taste like alcohol or something sweeter? How soft would his lips be? You leaned into him only for him to reach behind you picking up the spray bottle and rag. He walked away with a smirk and began wiping down tables.

“Talk to me doll” he said “ I mean I’ve told you so many things before it's only fair you tell me a secret or two” his voice was sensual. It sent tingles through your body to your core. You crossed your legs squeezing tight at the sound.

“Well” you said contemplating if you should speak your thoughts.

Toji stopped his cleaning to look at you

“It's just us two here, you can tell me anything” he said softly.

You looked around as if you’d somehow find someone sitting in the corner listening in. To no surprise the room was empty apart from Toji’s large muscular body standing a few feet away from you.

“I guess I just fantasize about losing my virginity,” you said, voice fading away.

You felt embarrassed at your confession. You wanted to hide away. Lose your virgin, what a foolish fantasy. Why not something like travel the world or start a business, that’s a real fantasy but no there you sat legs crossed squeezed searching for friction. “I mean- well there's more but I well” your words seemed to scramble as you spoke. Toji stood in front of you smiling at your truth.

“I think that’s a cute fantasy.” he said

He leaned against the table and folded his arm.

“I’d love to hear more about this…” he bowed his head, hiding his smile, “fantasy,” he said finishing his sentence.

“What? More?” you almost yelled shocked by his words

He licked his lips while making eye contact.

“Yeah” he repeated “More”

He got up from the table and began to roam around the room with a sigh.

“I mean there’s gotta be something more to this little fantasy of yours”

He walked over to you fiddling with the edge of your skirt. His fingers brushed against your skin making you feel hot all over.

“What is it, do you have some fantasy of getting tied up for your first time?”

His fingers danced across your skin. He looked down concentrated on his hand movements.

“Or do you just want a nice big cock to stretch you out?”

His words went straight to your core. You were too shocked by the vulgarity of it all to say anything. No one had ever spoken to you like that before. No one’s words had ever made you throb the way his did.He chuckled at your silence. Toji stepped away and went back to cleaning. You almost had the urge to snatch his arm and drag him back to you. You could never see yourself being that brave though.

“Well what about you?” you muttered too shy to speak up.

“Hm? Me?” he asked looking up from his task.

“Oh well I’ve got a few fantasies I guess” He stood with a concentrated look thinking about his own fantasies.

Your mind was running a relay race imagining the lewd words that could possibly come from him. At the same time you wondered what he could possibly fantasize about? What had he not done? You leaned forward intrigued with what he would say.

“Tell me,” you said, eyes wide with interest.

He laughed at your eagerness

“You really wanna know?” he asked, leaning against the table.

You nodded your head, excitement coursing through you.

“I do,” you said in a hushed voice.

Toji walked to you leaving his rag behind. His footsteps seemed so loud in the empty room. He filled up so much space with confidence alone.

“I guess I have that same fantasy”

His finger traced your jawline while his eyes stared deep into yours.

“I’ve been thinking about it alot lately,” he said as he licked his lips. “I can't stop thinking about how good it would feel stretching out a fresh virgin hole. The thought of making someone so innocent beg for my cock while I fuck them dumb” his bit his lip and looked down towards your plump ones “That shit just drives me crazy doll”

Your breath hitched as he spoke. You couldn’t help the throbbing that went to your core. The thought of having someone like Toji give you everything you ever desired sent shivers through you. You knew he’d make you feel better than any toy you had could ever make you feel. The way his lips looked so wet and soft, the way his muscles strained against his shirt, how he always smelled good always made your heart beat so hard you were sure he could hear. You sat starstruck, unable to form the words you wanted to say. Hell, you didn’t even know what to say. Would you beg him to fuck you, to take your virginity right then and there? Would you tell him that's nice and try to change the subject? No you had to take chances,

Live a little kid

You heard Shiu’s words replay in your mind like a record.

Now was the time to live a little.

“You got something on your mind?” Toji asked as if he was just waiting for you to say the word.

“I can help” the words flew out your mouth at the speed of light.

You wanted to hide away after hearing yourself. Help what? Clean? You couldn't pull yourself together.

Toji hummed satisfied with your answer.

“You want to help?” he asked “Are you asking me to bend you over and fuck you in this bar?”

He leaned in to whisper the words in your ear. Hearing him say it out loud almost felt wrong.

“I do- I mean I am- wait I mean” you fumbled over your words too overcome with embarrassment to function.

Toji’s laughter caught you off guard. He grabbed you by the jaw and pulled you in for a kiss. The kiss was wet. He tasted so sweet even though he had been drinking. His lips were soft. So soft you felt yourself melting into him. Your hands gripped the side of the stool almost tearing at the leather. Toji’s hand moved down to your neck pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. His kiss was delicate yet was filled with hunger. His fingers danced up your skirt feeling the heat between your legs.

“No panties huh, you’re not as innocent as i thought” he smiled as he inched his fingers closer to your core feeling the way you were practically leaking.

“This can’t possibly be your first go around. You come in wearing these short skirts” he pressed a kiss to your neck and licked a long strip up to your jaw.

“You're wearing nothing underneath. I bet you were just begging for someone like me to peek and see that pretty little pussy dripping all over my seats.”

You were left in a daze from his fingers just barely brushing against where you needed him most to how he sucked your neck leaving your skin feeling raw. His scent filled your every waking being. He was all that you could feel, see, touch, smell. It was almost as if he had become the only person left in the world and all that you wanted was for him to touch you; to touch you in ways no one had ever done before. You needed him. Your mind was desperately pleading for him to slip his fingers inside of you, to feel your gummy walls and finally give you the pleasure that you were desperately clinging onto him for.

“Please touch me” you whimpered out.

Your voice felt so weak. You were so needy for him, your fingers dug into his arm pulling him closer.

“Such a needy little thing” he chuckled

His fingers moved along your legs teasing you with every touch.

“I need more than that love. Where do you need me” he voiced with his head still in the crook of your neck sucking and licking at your skin.

You grabbed his hand, dragging it up your thigh to place it between your folds. Words seemed to fail you so taking action was your only choice.

“Here”

Toji smiled at your courage. His fingers maneuvered up and down your core feeling how wet you were. He rubbed soothing circles onto the bundle of nerves earning him a soft moan from you.

“Have you ever been stuffed with someone’s fingers?” he asked in a low voice

You shook your head while meeting his eyes.Toji free hand grabbed your jaw.

“Words Princess”

“No,” you whimpered.

Your answer seemed to have a strong effect on him. The thought of watching your innocence slip away from you at his hand was enough to have his cock straining against his pants.

“I’m gonna put a finger in and I’ll let you know each time I do just so you don’t get all shy on me when your pussy’s sucking my fingers in” he smiled.

His thumb kept a steady pace rubbing quick circles while he slipped his first finger into your hole.

“That’s it” he said, rocking his finger in and out of your eyes watching the way your mouth widened to an ‘o’ shape while moans spilled past your lips.

“You like that?” He placed a wet kiss on your lips.”Pussy feels so tight baby, I wonder how you’re gonna take my cock”

You let out a whine while your hips grinded down onto his hand.

“More please, I need more”

Toji’s eyes lit up at your words.

“Oh? My nasty girl wants more huh” He smirked “I’m putting in a second finger now dirty girl, I’ll give you what you want”

His second finger slipped in with ease. A gasp escaped your lips as he filled you up groaning at the way your hole squeezed around his fingers.

“So wet for me doll.” His breath ghosted against your lips as his fingers continued to fuck in and out of you making a mess below you. You let out weak moans and gasp. This feeling of his fingers massaging your gummy walls was something you had never experienced before. You felt the world revolving around you. Your heart was racing in your chest. Everything seemed so loud at that moment. The way his breaths sounded sharp as his fingers picked up speed. The drips of water from the sink he had left running after washing dishes, The cars speeding by not noticing how you were falling apart giving yourself away to him. If a car were to slow down just for a few seconds it would have been so easy to just peek into the window to see how your legs were spread open. Your hips were grinding down onto him. It would have been so easy just to see how much of a mess you were making for his fingers. That seemed to send a thrill through you, having some unknown stranger turn their head and watch you lose your virginity and take a cock for the first time.

“God, it feels so good” you let out a loud gasp unable to contain yourself.

The feeling of him dipping his fingers into you was so overwhelming you thought you might lose your mind. You had never touched yourself like this before. You always stayed away from fucking your self with you fingers to afraid to stick a finger in always preferring to massage your clit. Little did you know the desire and pleasure that would come with having someone shove their fingers deep into you, you were practically drooling from the feeling. You felt a pit forming in your stomach the feeling so foreign all you could do was moan and curse about how good he felt.

“Come on doll” Toji rasped out “ Give it to me, make me proud, show me how pretty you look making a mess on my fingers.”

His words were enough to send you spiraling. You let out loud unfiltered moans. This was new, something better than ever. You wanted- no craved more. This feeling of ecstasy felt like a drug taking over you. You let out heavy breathes as you came down from your high.

“Don’t think we’re done just yet doll, I want you to take your first cock” Toji said as he lifted you bringing you to the table he had just wiped down.

He pulled your shirt up exposing your breast and pulled a nipple into his mouth. You let out a long moan feeling his hot tongue swivel around your nipple. His mouth felt so warm. His hand squeezed and massaged your other breast as he let out a groan. He pulled your skirt off and threw it in a nearby corner.

“You won't be needing that” He said as he took your body in.

He pulled his cock free from his pants and your eyes went wide. Not only was he big, he was thick. You sat staring with a slack jaw fearful that his two fingers weren’t enough to make him fit. He stroked his cock as he rubbed circles on your clit.

“Look at what you do to me doll” he said, voice strained. “Got me so fucking hard I can’t wait to make your pussy cream”

He pushed you down so that your back was laying flat against the table. His arms wrapped around your thighs to pull you to the edge of the table. He rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit sending shivers through your body.

“Look at you, being so good for me, you ready to take your first cock” he licked his lips staring at your glistening cunt “You ready to make a real mess for me baby?”

The tip of his cock prodded at your hole just barely entering.

“It- It’s too big” you whimpered watching as he held his cock rubbing it through your folds.

“Don’t worry doll, I’ll make it fit” he said, eyes never leaving your hole.

He inched his cock into you achingly slowly watching how your pussy sucked him in taking all that he was giving you. Toji’s eyes rolled back, feeling how tight you were squeezing around him. He had known you'd be tight but never did he imagine you’d have him ready to cum just from sinking himself into you. He stilled inside of you just admiring the warmth and tightness of you. He took a deep breath to gather himself.

“Fuck you feel so good” he whispered the words and you almost didnt hear him.

“I’m gonna take it nice and slow for you princess”

He moved his hips in a slow motion watching the way your face moved from being scrunched up in pain to eyes rolling back enjoying the pleasure of being stuffed full.

“You like that shit” he asked as he rolled his hips into you slowly. His cock felt so delicious inside of you. You wanted this feeling forever. He filled you up so perfectly. You couldn’t fathom the idea of having anyone else fill you up like this. The way his hips rolled into yours meeting your hips with a soft slap left you gasping for air.

“Breathe baby breath” he rubbed soothing circles into your hips.

You sucked in a shaky breath not realizing you had been holding your breath focusing solely on the pleasure of him.

“Come on baby let me hear those moans, I want to hear how you sound taking your first cock” he squeezed your hips as he rocked into you. Toji was holding back. He bit his lip trying to contain himself. He didn’t want to destroy you for your first time. It was taking everything in him not to absolutely wreck you. He made a mental note to himself that the next time he stuffed his cock into you, he’d leaving you a drooling fucked out mess but for now he would be content with just watching the way you’d fall apart taking him your first time.

“Tell me how it feels” he leaned down to pepper wet kisses from your collar to your neck. “First time being so full, tell me where you feel me baby talk to me”

You could barely breathe properly and now you were trying to form sentences.

“So good ugh I feel it all in my tummy it's so big” you slurred.

Your moans were so loud any person walking by would have a perfect show to watch. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care about any lingering stares that could possibly be watching through the window. Your mind wandered off to thoughts of someone sneaking looks through the window, digging their hand in their pants and getting off to you creaming on your first cock. What a lewd thought. Your whimpers seemed to repeat like a broken record. You couldn’t help but moan and beg him for more.

“Faster please I need more” you whimpered, hardly able to contain yourself as you bucked your hips upwards into him.

“You sure doll, I don't think I’ll be able to stop if I do” his voice was gruff as he fucked you in a slow pace.

“Please” you begged “I need you so bad”

Toji bit his lip. He grabbed your legs pulling them up so your ankles could rest on his shoulder. He rubbed your stomach feeling where his cock was inside of you. His hands massaged your skin as he grabbed your calf kissing your ankle.

“Be a good girl and take everything I give you then, hm?”

His cocked slammed into you at a pace you did not expect. His hips met yours with a loud slap. Toji’s eyes scanned your body watching every movement. Your back arched off the table as you moaned so loud your voice echoed off the walls.

“Look so pretty taking cock” he groaned “ Mean to tell me I’m the first one to get to see you like this”

His thrust were relentless slamming into you “This sight is too pretty to share.” His thumb rubbed circles onto your clit as he rocked his hips into you.

“That’s it taking me so well doll” His words were going straight to your core.

You could barely form sentences, only strained moans and slurred versions of his name. Your body seemed to fall apart for him. The table under you rocked back and forth with his thrust. If you had half a mind you would be worried that it would break but all you could think of was how you were about to cum. You felt a warmth in your stomach as he fucked you.

“Come one Princess I want you to cum with me. I want to see how messy you get for the first time” his words had your eyes rolling back. You felt so weak barely able to do anything but cum on his cock. Your body didn’t feel like yours. You had never came so hard in your life. He was covered in your juices, soaked from all that you had to give him. Toji’s eyes were looking down focused on the way his cum mixed with yours covered his cock. His movements slowed as he fucked the cum inside of you.

“I don’t like being wasteful” he said as two fingers covered in cum moved between your lips. You sucked his fingers obediently without a second thought. You were in such a daze you would have done anything for him.

“You were so good for me” his voice was low as he leaned down placing kisses on your lips.

Toji felt his heart growing warm. He had never felt so soft for someone before.With any other girl who would have already been zipping up his pants and ordering them a ride but for you it felt different. He wanted to fulfill every fantasy you had. He wanted to be the only one watching you cum. It was either him or nothing at all. You were just too perfect to share. From the way your chest moved trying to catch your breath to the way your plump lips sat open wet from drool had his heart feeling like it might beat out of his chest.

“I want to make all those nasty fantasies of yours come true.” He whispered, kissing your skin cock still stuffed inside of you.

“I want to be the only one to get to see you like this”

🏷️: @karazorel7 , @candyceedea , @fleurettiie , @pressuredtreasure , @plaxxxie , @cloud-lyy , @fictionalthirsting , @smuttyfantasyrecs , @enchantedcherie , @coyloves , @baldi-2 , @pickledwasp , @sanxuus , @fictionsimp , @ibby-miyoshi-nerd , @kiqqnii , @snazzyturtles , @sadlittle-girl , @faumpje , @nvvacanesworld , @no-f34r

#jjk toji #jujutsu toji #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen smut #kinktober #toji fushiguro #angelshubnetwork

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miyatcha · 11 months ago

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paper cranes | suguru geto

naw...its so lowk quality. oh welll :( | fluff | suguru is a canon manspreader LMFAOO

you catch suguru geto folding paper cranes- and that’s the first time you meet him. he sits in the middle of the bench as if he owns the whole thing, a stack of patterned origami paper with a paperweight on top on the side.

it’s spring, and against the blooming flowers, you think he’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen.

“you’re taking an awful lot of space on that bench.” your teasing tone snaps him out of his concentrated task, quick to grab the paper and scoot to one side.

“sorry- bad habit.” he’s sheepish, and instead of manspreading like before, he sits upright, fumbling with the craft in his hands. you laugh at him, taking a seat on the other side.

“what’s got you folding cranes in a park?” you take in the stranger next to you.

“helps me take my mind off things. and you?” he glances up, and his dark eyes meet your gaze.

he’s…breathtaking.

the stranger raises an eyebrow, and you realize you haven’t responded. “reading- and maybe some drawing. I don’t know yet.”

you sit down beside him, not really sure how to continue the conversation, but thankfully, there’s nothing between the two of you that makes things awkward.

“what are you reading?” showing him the cover of the slice of life/romance book you were halfway through, he smiles. “the ending is worth it, don’t worry.”

“you’ve read it?”

he nods, placing the crane in his bag. “i might’ve reread it a couple times.”

your interest in him grows the more you find out about him. “really? i’ve heard it’s a sad ending.”

he hums, lost in thought. “well, yes, it’s sad- but good. do you think the main characters should stay together?”

you pause for a moment, mulling over his question. while you were a sucker for happy endings, it just wouldn’t make sense with the type of people they were.

“no. she was going in a different direction than him- even if they were good for each other, they wouldn’t be happy. so does this mean they don’t end up together?” he shrugs, finishing another crane and adding it to his growing pile. “are you making the cranes for anything?” you change the subject.

i don’t have the cranes for anything specific, no, but they’re pretty, aren’t they?” he holds a finished one in his palm, with meticulous folds at every edge. you nod, and he smiles, satisfied.

"do you know how to make any?"

"it's honestly been so long- i might know a few steps, but that's it."

he pauses, smoothing over the crane's neck. "i'll teach you the next time i see you around." it's his signal to leave, and as he gathers his things, you finish the page of the book you were reading. when you feel the seat shift, you glance up at the stranger, hoping that deep down, something more would happen.

"it was nice to meeting you..." you realize. “i never got your name.”

“suguru geto. you?” the boy smiles, and his eyes crinkle at the edges.

“___ ___.” you wave to him, ready to tell your friends all about the encounter with the pretty stranger.

when he's no longer in sight, you notice a green crane on the seat, and you’re quick to pick it up and search for him, but he’s disappeared.

you fold down the wings for him, and find something written on the flaps. it’s his number.

‘call or text :)’

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thewritersaddictions · 26 days ago

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Day Fifthteen: Pedro Pascal + Face Sitting

Pedro knows you like the back of his hand. He knows when you're so fucking exicting that you move around lot in your sleep. He knows when you're angry as someone because it reads all over your face. He also knows when you're nervous about something.

You pace around the house unable to stay still or just in one place. The house is a wreak, blankets thrown all over the couch. The kitchen is a mess from your trying to get some baking done, but the cookies came out a little wonky and now your frusted with that as well.

Everything is just going wrong.

He can see that way you're downspirling very quickly. He's watching you from the corner of his eye on the couch. The volume on the TV is low, some comerial runs on the screen as he gets up setting his book down and getting up in search of you.

The kitchen is empty now, so he follows the notise of you pacing cirlces upstairs. Your shared bedroom door is creaked open. "Baby?" He asks into the room. You hum. You're sitting at the edge of the bed.

"What's wrong?" Pedro asks as he comes to sit next to you. Your shurg your shoulders at first, and then you start to ramble. Words fumbling out of your mouth and then all the sudden Pedro gets up.

You follow his movement as Pedro rounds the corner of the bed. Sitting on the bed before slipping his shoes off and settling ontop the covers. "What are you doing?" You ask him. He wiggles a littel further down, so his head sits perfeclty on the pillow.

"I'm getting comfortable so when I ask you to come over here and sit that pretty little pussy of my face you'll do it." Pedro says with a straight face. The rambling from beofre hand has been about a lot of things, but some of it had been about the weight you had gained during the winter season and now that spring was here you were starting to regret ever eating anything during the holidays.

"WHAT!" You shirek as you look at your very calm boyfriend laying on the bed licking his lips. "Why?" You ask, he rolls his eyes. "What is this 72 questions? I just want to eat my girls pusy out so she'll stop thinking about everything for a few moments." He says warmly quirking a brow up in a ever so teasing manner.

"But…" "There are no buts, besides that pretty one I want up here right now." Pedro says coaxing you closer to him. "Come on hermosa, come sit on my face and let me tell you how good you taste, how much you mean to me. Let me show you mi amor."

He knows he's got you when you slip your shirt over your shoulders and head, when your sweats come falling down into a pile around your feet along with your slutty, lacy panties.

He helps you, outreaching his hand to support you as your climb up onto the bed and crawl over his body. Still fully clothed and you see what you do to his body. Evidence of his hard erection in his blue washed jeans.

"Mi Amor don't you worry about me, just put that pussy up on my face and let me take care of the rest." You listen postioning each thigh on either side of Pedro head. One hand leans on the headrest for support and the other is combing through Pedros thick greying locks of hair.

"There we go princesa, just like that." He says guiding you down onto his lips. His hands are clasped around your ass. He sits you the rest of the way down. His nose nudges into your clit and your shiver at the sensation. Hot breath blows on your cold pussy breathing a new sort of life into you.

"You smell so good hermosa." He mutters into your pussy. "Oh fuck." You moan, just him talking into your pussy already has you wanting his tongue more.

His tongue lays flat agasint your entrance. "Fuck and you taste so good mi amor." The next thing you now theres no more talking, just his tongue attacking your clit and weeping entrance as if he's just come back from the desert and he's dying of thirst.

You grind into him now, aching for more. Yearning for more then just his tongue at this point. Your knuckles go white as your hold onto the headrest for dear life. Pedro fingers dig into the meat of your ass as his nudges into your clit with grind of your hips.

"Fuck me, fuck Pedro… I'm gonna…" Your moans are like music to his ears and edges his further on. His pants are tight, but he doesn't care. "Cum baby." He mutters into your wet pussy.

Vibrations sent up your core as you shirke with joy and euphoria. Your legs shake and your head falls forward. "There we go angel, doesn't that feel better now?" Pedro says licking his lips.

He helps you shift to the bed. Your body hot and aching from your orgasm. "Hmm." You hum and close your eyes resting for a moment.

No racing thought, or anything else pass through your head as the two of you sit in quiet peace on your bed together.

Completed on: 10/19/24

Posted on: 10/20/24

Kinktober 24'-

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bucknastysbabe · 9 months ago

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now, catholic school priest criston and aemonds twin. Criston is from a catholic family, wanted to be a priest since he was a little boy, going to the sunday mass with his mothet was like the highlight of his week, went into the seminary very young, never had a girlfriend, he is a good man alright. then aemonds twin, whos not catholic, not even christian, her dad doesnt even go to church but alicent is very catholic and she wanted her kids to go to catholic school. but shes a menace, a straight up gremlin, like aegon but a girl and not a loser (srry aegon ily). And criston is sure the devil sent her to tempt him and shes like but what if it was god the one who sent me for you??? And specially for you??? Like, as a treat?! 🤗

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6k of filth and catholic guilt

Tags: 90’s catholic school setting, Criston had the Crisis, mutual masturbation, confession booth shenanigans, age difference, manipulation, teacher/student relationship, sexual tension, Targtower reader, Criston’s woe is me internal monologue, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, pnv!sex, Jesus saw that Crispy, DESPERATION, priest kink, #imahorridcatholic

A/N: I made that priest edit and I’m proud also listened to talk by hozier for the entire last part. I’m a gremlin and made her her daeron’s twin.

Taglist: @fairysluna @aemonds-holy-milk @targaryenbarbie @arcielee @bambitas

Criston knew his purpose since the day he could recall. Nothing pleased him more than sitting in mass with his mother, going through Sunday school, getting ready to become an official Catholic. Confirmation was the one of the happiest days of his life.

Vocation became the forefront of Criston’s mind in school. He probably annoyed the hell out of Father Dondarrion, pestering the priest with questions upon questions about seminary. In the mean time, he was the best altar boy a Cole could be. A-team altar boy! Strong fumbled the bells every time, it repulsed Criston.

He did other school things such as tennis, won a state championship in that, got some offers for a spot on a college team. Then in the other season he played second base for the baseball team, won a state championship in that and received multiple offers to college teams. No, Criston had his mind made up. He could lead others to victory— through Christ’s love of course. He had to admit his father was quite pissed about the baseball team but he’d be okay. Criston had a little brother, he was athletic.

The young man had even tried dating, just to see if God called for Criston to instead populate the world and lead a family. Not tend to the flock of sheep. There was a plethora of girls but he fell for a devil.

Her name was Rhaenyra Targaryen and she left him in a puddle of tears. The rich girl couldn’t respect staying chaste until marriage. He was ready to give her a ring. The priest sniffed recalling her harsh words, “You, like, won’t even dry hump me? What’s the point?” At the time the young man was miffed, broken, distraught. Criston held a hand over his heart as he whispered tearily, “You want me to be your whore?”

Mind you, he was a foolish 17 year old. The man was tested with her, but he learned from the experience. Criston was obviously meant to be a priest. He prayed and prayed for God to reveal his path. The answer came in Father Dondarrion giving Criston a letter from the Archbishop himself, inviting the young man to join seminary.

Criston took his first vows at the tender age of 18. He spent the next seven years learning and perfecting his bond with God, ready to guide his brothers and sisters in Christ. He’d smile and wave off comments at his home parish, often elder women asking why such a handsome young man would devote his life to chastity.

He rarely thought much of it. Jerking off was a boring thing, simply a biological process Cole needed to take care of. He took no shame nor pleasure in it, not truly thinking of anything at all. It would lessen as he aged but currently Criston was twenty-five and a ‘hot blooded’ young man.

He got his first job as a teacher in a Catholic school. At the beginning, Father Criston Cole found a passion for teaching while on a mission trip. He was ecstatic for the job. A year later he was significantly less overzealous. Add some years later Criston found himself, well, bored. Agitated. Discontent if you will.

Lord knows he had to calm himself for these wayward children. After a long day the man would pour some scotch and wonder why the rich ones were the worst behaved. Especially the damn Targaryens— he thought he could escape from that name.

Rhaenyra’s father had remarried and they had five children. Rhaenyra had five herself, different fathers came the whispers. The two youngest apparently looked like her. Criston smirked into his glass, God was watching and protecting him even as a foolish kid. She left the church anyways, but the children were polite and well-behaved in class.

Alicent Hightower-Targaryen’s children were a handful. Aegon made Criston sick to his stomach, the idiot either drunk or high in class, flipping up skirts of poor girls. If the priest thought about the eldest too long he’d grow a headache. He chose not to dwell on the fact that the family generously paid for Aegon to graduate— like a twisted version of simony.

Then along came sweet Helaena, she made good marks but often had to be drawn back to attention, and he tried to stifle the bullying drawn to her strange nature. Aemond was another headache, in a good way. He seemed to fit the vocational lifestyle and bonded with Criston over it. Criston truly enjoyed discussing hot topics in the church with the smart lad.

Aemond just needed to let his anger go and let God in, Criston had to do the same, his temper could be stormy. Then Aemond graduated and went off to study the sciences. Criston frankly thought he was done. He forgot. The twins were seniors and signed into his year-long Papal History elective.

He was now 32, and God really had sent him a test this time. In the form of good-natured Daeron’s wily sister. He had to send her to the Headmaster’s office the first day! The pale-haired girl was wearing an…indecent…skirt. One to catch long shapely legs.

He huffed and downed the rest of his scotch. He knelt before his icon of Christ and prayed. ‘Please my loving lord, I am afraid you shall test me, but give me the strength to pass through this.’ He felt strange. This girl was trouble. Criston wiped his face and grabbed his scotch again, one more would do for the night. He hissed, “FuckingfuckfucksticksFUCK!” Eyes widening he apologized to the empty room, “Forgive me my lord, that was uncouth.”

It was November 1997. Father Cole thought about making a request to a parish to be their full-time priest. He suited up for the lovely worship of Mass, mood sour. Deacon Erryk was next to him, almost out of his seminary studies. Erryk hummed, “How’s the class this year?”

“A pain in my side. I have another Aegon Targaryen in the form of his youngest sister. She seeks to make me miserable.”

The man stifled a laugh and prodded, “Damn. Aegon was bad, he was in my class with you. My condolences Criston, pray that Mary will bless the girl with some sense.”

Criston grumbled, “Indeed.” He felt old. Erryk was about to be a priest now.

Mass went off good as gold, the younger altar boys falling into place easily. He could always see the believers and non-believers based on their actions. Some wouldn’t even stand when he entered the room, the cross bearer ignored too. If Criston could start throwing Holy Water he would, ingrates.

In the front row, Daeron and his sister sat. Criston tried not to grimace as he sat down in his chair. They’d have mass every Friday at the school. Confession on Tuesdays. Criston would teach a RCIA class next semester for those outside of the school at night.

She was staring at him, wearing another little dress with her button-up underneath the skinny straps. He could see her smokey eyeshadow and glossed lips, moving around a piece of gum. Daeron held himself in reverence, hands clasped. Criston turned away, he would not give the evil little blonde any satisfaction!

He shivered when she knelt and took the body of Christ, tongue lapping against his fingers with a licentious look. The priest almost yelped, moving onto the next. He was shaken for the rest of the ceremony. Maybe he should call for advice— no, no, they would think Cole some sort of deviant pedophile. That was a problem enough and she was merely being a temptress. ‘Son of a fucking BIIIIIIITCH’, he thought angrily. Then did the sign of the cross.

The beleaguered priest sat at his desk during his planning period, grading papers. The headphones on his head played some songs— his only vice. He loved ‘radical’ music. So Criston kept that little secret to himself. He liked to belt rock ballads. Only by himself in the rectory.

How embarrassing. A grown man of the cloth.

The door opening had Criston jerking his head up, hand flicking off his walkman. He raised a brow when it was the little Targaryen and her mother, livid by her expression and wild red hair. She shoved the girl in a seat and crossed her arms.

Criston stood up and greeted the frankly scary woman, “Miss Hightowergaryen, oh, Hightower-Targaryen yes!” He peeked at teary red eyes, deadpanning, “And you.” The senior scoffed, “Good to see you too Father.” He ignored her quip and cautiously asked, “What seems to be the problem?” Alicent raved, “She’s going off the wrong path, just like Aegon. Guess where Aegon is, tell Father Cole please!” She gave her daughter a sharp look.

The girl mumbled something before getting a pinch to her arm. She croaked, “He’s in rehab! Rehab! Alright there mom!” The younger curled in and hid under her blonde hair, streaked with some sort of red dye.

He frowned but couldn’t say he was quite surprised. Criston offered, “My apologies, may he find the light of His way soon. Occasionally some rejoin the church or convert after getting clean and sober. Is there an issue with my student Miss?”

Alicent sighed, calming a bit and taking a deep breath. She looked up, doe eyes wide and pleading. The mother asked, “Can we go into your private office for a second Father?�� She stopped and hissed, “Don’t you move an inch!”

A roll of violet eyes was the answer, pouting lips turning further downward.

Criston perched on his desk and tried to soothe the woman, “Alicent, relax my old friend, what can I do for you?” He offered a look of sympathy, watching her pace and run a hand wildly through her hair. The woman stopped in place and whimpered, “She’s so lost, I can’t screw up another one of my babies. I need you to keep an eye on her, pray and guide, something…Something so I know I tried.”

She looked very tired, taking a sharp breath in to chew at her nails. Alicent rambled, “She was so good, her and Daeron were so good. Then she turned sixteen and something happened, I don’t know what, and it’s gotten worse. She hates Sunday mass, like Aegon and Rhaenyra. I don’t want to lose her forever to whatever this is, straying off the path.”

He nodded contemplatively, hand on his chin, thinking. Alicent was in a state of chronic stress, even back when they were all in school. She married Rhaenyra’s father so young, nineteen to be exact. He felt a need to protect the woman of God, just trying her best to lead her children to heaven since Viserys did not seem to be in the picture.

He swore, “I’ll do my best, you have my word Alicent. God bless you, let me bless you.” He prayed over her and the tenseness seemed to leave her shoulders. Alicent smiled softly and thanked Criston, the pair of them exiting the office.

Her daughter remained seated, looking more miserable by the second. She gazed up with curious eyes, mouth still set in a pout. Alicent beamed, “Father Criston will be keeping an eye on you and reporting to me, okay? You will behave and try to learn that the path of the righteous is never easy.”

She raised a brow, “So I’m going to have my priest follow me around? That’s uncool.”

Alicent stiffened and remarked, “No. You’ll come to him when in trouble. You’ll be spending lunch with him too so you don’t go off and smoke like a vagrant. We will go sign it in with the headmaster now. Get up.”

Criston had to hold his jaw closed. He definitely did not know what he was signing up for. Hail Mary, full of grace rambled off in his head. This would be a tumultuous year for sure— inked and sealed onto paper. God bless him.

“I guess we’ll be the best of friends now,” she snarled tearily.

Criston placed a hand on her shoulder and hummed, “God works in mysterious ways Targaryen.” Internally he was climbing a mountain and shouting at the heavens like some Bible prophet. He was feeling very Job-like at the moment.

First of all, he truly didn’t expect the girl to sit in his classroom during lunch. Criston raised a brow when she entered, slammed down her lunch and plopped down. She cocked her head and smiled, “Afternoon father.”

“Afternoon,” he replied, turning his gaze back upon the scripture he was annotating. Cole wanted to comment on her sudden chopping of that beautiful white-blonde hair, or the fact she smelled of minty cigarettes. She wasn’t supposed to be smoking.

It remained quiet until she blurted, “Do you smoke?”

Yes, in fact he did. But she didn’t need to know that. Criston murmured, “No I do not.” To which she lobbed back, “Is it not a sin to lie? I saw you in the parking lot! Also you smell like marlboros sometimes.” Her face turned bright red— like she had no control over her yapping.

Criston peeled off his glasses and sat back in his chair to level the girl with a stern look. He flatly stated, “Yes, good point, it was a sin for me to lie. Although as your teacher and priest I would not have you pick up bad habits,” he took a moment before asking, “How do I smell of cigarettes in class? Are you sniffing me?”

She stammered, “N-no! No! It’s just when you pass by, I don’t know, stop!”

Criston shook his head in concern, “Please do not sniff me in class, that’s, that’s strange.”

“I don’t sniff you! Quit saying that! Okay, enough of smoke talk! Hi how are you doing Father Cole?,” she animatedly gestured, eyes wild and cheeks pink.

He couldn’t help but snicker at her mad gestures. Snickers turned into genuine laughter, Criston slapping his desk a bit. A different hand slapping down on his desk made the man look up, donning a grin at her grumpy face. The littlest dragon hissed, “Ha-ha very funny. I asked you a question. Small talk, since I’m stuck here with you for lunch.”

Criston shrugged and replied, “Ask a better question, I don’t know how I’m doing half of the time. Especially having to babysit a legal adult.”

Her pout was endearing, the girl biting into her sandwich in an aggressive manner. She chewed and swallowed before blurting, “Is it true my half-sister dumped you in highschool?” Criston squawked in surprise, heaven on earth, how would she even get the knowledge? Rubbing the bridge of his nose he sighed.

“Yes, she dumped me. Didn’t want to stay chaste until marriage. That was a little personal don’t you think Miss Targaryen?”

She seemed to contemplate his words, sounding out her thoughts, “Now you’re a priest and she has like 2 baby daddies and a gay hubby. Cool. Love my family.” Her laugh was a sharp giggle, almost sarcastic in nature. Nothing like the torture of Aegon’s nonsensical shrieks.

Criston smiled a bit at the information, leaning back in his chair. He sucked on his teeth and asked her, “Why’d you cut off all your hair?” She narrowed her eyes and smiled, “I was wondering if you would make a comment, quote some scripture that shorter hair is for lesbians and therefore I’m going to hell.” The older man gaped and stared, almost choking at her blunt words.

“No- what? You’ve got some sort of an imagination!,” he sipped on a water bottle, offended she would assume he was that mean, “I think it fits you nicely, glad whatever dye you put in was lost in the chop.” He shook his head, muttering about lesbian scripture. She giggled again, content with flustering the priest.

Criston tried to hold off a headache as she yapped about school. He snorted a bit when she marked some of the students on the dot. Soon the bell rang and she packed up her lunch, swinging her backpack on. Stopping at the door she asked, “So what’s your poison of choice? I like the fancy camel ones.”

He stared blankly before deadpanning, “Marlboro reds, now begone Targaryen.”

Her endearing giggle echoed as she left, the door swinging shut. Criston sat back in his chair and sighed— she had spunk. He quite appreciated it. Maybe she was a gift to spice up his growing distaste of where his life was at.

His dark eyes widened. He’s got to be too young for a midlife crisis? Now he really wanted a cigarette.

Father Criston Cole was indeed having a mid-life crisis. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, fitting his clerical collar on. Peering closer he inspected his face. He was still relatively young looking, hair not showing any grays. Practicing a smile he immediately dropped the grin. Crows feet. Great.

The priest shivered at the slight wrinkles. Why did he care? He didn’t have anyone to impress. A cheeky smile and icy eyeshadow, choppy blonde hair flitted through his mind. Goodness gracious he was her teacher, her priest, went to school with the girl’s parent. A spiritual guide!

This was bad. The damn girl had him wrapped around her ringed pinky. Bringing her little gifts, letting the blonde stay after school to chit chat. One time he let her cry on his shoulder, upset about rumors swirling. Criston heard a lot in the classroom.

Slut, whore, burnout, bitch.

He didn’t want to know what the little dragon got up to in her spare time but his knuckles did whiten at the thought of her not treating her body as a temple. Letting stupid boys have their way. Not like he could help. He was a priest and the farthest he’d ever gotten was smooching Rhaenyra and grabbing her tit before freaking out.

He needed to pray. Pray away these sinful thoughts. Guilt wracked his chest. He couldn’t turn the girl away either— he made a promise to Alicent. On a better note, her grades and attendance had improved. Ali called him once to thank the priest for helping her daughter. Although the girl still was apprehensive about faith. He didn’t push the subject; she didn’t bring it up. Maybe sometime soon.

Brushing back his curls, Criston sprayed cologne on his dark garb. He bought it on a self-indulgent whim. Maybe to cover the cigarette smoke, truly to entice a certain favorite student. Instead he was pestered by other girls bringing treats and batting their eyes at him. The man of the cloth could care less about the others. He was hopelessly haunted by his agnostic, rebellious student.

The man prayed some, did a Hail Mary before smoking a cigarette or five with his coffee. He was jittery at school now, worried that somehow a teacher or the elder nun would run and declare him a sinful wretch. Locking himself in the office until class time seemed like a good option.

He tried to grade some papers, mind drifting off to the increasingly heavy burden on his shoulders. Something needed to give— he was afraid what that might be. Deacon Arryk gave the homily that morning mass since Criston was out of sorts. Trying to not stare when she knelt and took the body of Christ. Playfully flicking his fingers with that tongue and saying ‘amen’.

Thank the Trinity and the saints he was covered head to toe in thick vestments. Hiding his cock just brought to mind Criston’s change in habit. Jerking off wasn’t a mindless activity anymore. He imagined plump lips and her raspy voice, teasing him, so delightfully mean. Then he’d flip her around and- he usually came with a pathetic noise by that point in the fantasy.

He pressed his fingers into his temples, groaning aloud. Doomed. Eternal hell. Purgatory sentence maximum if he got lucky. The second bell of the day woke the man from his racing mind. Criston straightened up and popped some gum in. Mary take pity on his soul. Satan himself was testing Criston. Although he couldn’t help but think she was anything but demonic.

The next day the tired priest had to attend confession for two hours. Usually it wasn’t a laborious affair; most of the kids who attended were the devout sort and only had some venial sins. Daeron Targaryen was a regular attendee, his twin was not.

He thought he was done for the day, sighing in relief. The two hours were up. Until the curtain swished and someone entered. The brunette thought to groan and hit his head on the wood. Fuck him— sorry, forgiveness please Lord for the profanity.

Criston’s eyes widened when he heard a familiar voice. That lilting, teasing, raspy voice that was the specter of the nightmares and fantasies. He could faintly see the outline of her, that damn silvery blonde hair.

“Uhhh, bless me father for I have sinned. It’s been, uh, one year since my last confession?” She made the sign of the cross, bracelets jingling. Criston could snort— blondie was obviously reading off a note card. She remained quiet afterward.

He prodded, “Go on child.”

She huffed, “I’ve lied, slandered, gossiped about others. I’m inattentive in mass. I don’t respect my parents. I’ve been ungrateful, taking the lords body out of a state of grace. Obviously I’m egotistical, depraved of thoughts, I’m selfish.”

Father Cole swallowed.

She laughed blithely, “I could probably keep going except for mortal sins? I steal, sneak, deceive, suffer from jealousy and envy. Bad bad envy. Always want what I can’t have, y’know?”

He wanted to ask her to clarify…but had a feeling.

The twin’s voice lowered to a purr, “I think you’re waiting for the grand finale. I’m lustful, wanton, perform unnatural acts of sex. Inordinate affection, especially for men who are sworn to another. I defile myself to the thought of him.”

Criston gripped his black slacks roughly, cock swelling so fast he was pretty sure his vision had spots in it. He discreetly tried to readjust himself, swallowing back a whine. The man was no better than a horny boy— denying the pleasures of the flesh for so long.

“I’m a fornicator. Not lately. I can’t stop touching myself to the thought of him.”

The priest hadn’t stopped rubbing himself, biting on his bottom lip to shut up as she rambled on. Oh, it felt so goddamn good he was panting. Meanwhile from the other side he could hear her shifting, voice growing breathier as she talked.

“I think about him touching me, kissing me, those pretty lips and dark eyes only for me. I fucking hate when other girls talk to him— I slashed one’s t-tires.”

“No swearing,” Criston grunted.

“Sorry, where was I? I came so hard the other day wondering what his cock would feel like inside of me. I don’t know if y- he would last long but I’d keep riding, oh mmh!,” her breath hitched and he could hear slick noises from beyond the screen. She was touching herself in the booth. Touching herself. In the booth.

He leaned back, head thumping against the wood, practically humping his hand. Criston whined through his nose, mouth hanging open. The man was a goddamn mess, pleading, “You’d ride him huh? Until he got ready again?”

“Mhmmm, yeah, I’d put his pretty cock in my mouth until I felt him get hard. Hah, what do you think he would do to me?”

Oh holy spirits, he had no clue? Everything? He’d do anything? He drew on his fantasies and the dirty mag a boy brought to class once. Criston went home and asked forgiveness for seeing the woman…doing that.

His voice was much more desperate than he expected, tan cheeks turning a shade of darker red. Criston rambled, “I, oh heavens, he would do whatever she asked, maybe, maybe, put his mouth on her.”

He must have said the right thing, her breath quickened and he could see the outline of her arm moving faster. Emboldened, Cole practically whined, “He’d lick and suck at her until she was crying and grabbing his hair, ohfuckinghellfires!” Criston’s cock throbbed and twitched as he cursed and shoved a hand down his slacks.

“Yeah? Yeah? He’d eat me out? Suck on my clit, slip some f-fingers inside? I’d want it so bad,” she whimpered shakily. The priest panted and popped the button so he could fist himself easier, moaning shamelessly, scrunching his eyes closed.

The blonde’s voice was muffled, “Mmm- I’d take such good care of him, he could e-eat me out but I’d ride his cock until he couldn’t cum anymore, F-father please!” Criston could hear her squeal and his dark hair fell into his face as he curled inward. He babbled uselessly, rubbing himself as spurt after spurt of seed wetted his briefs.

There was a heavy feeling in the confession booth. The pair panted, sitting in silence. Shame poured over Criston like a bucket of ice. He quickly rearranged himself to not look like someone who just had the most intense orgasm of his life. The priest wanted to talk, truly, but he had no words.

So he bolted, ignoring her calls of his name. Criston kept moving, heading toward the rectory, he’d have to call out. Everything was spinning and he needed to just, just, he didn’t know. The stickiness in his pants was worsening the horrid feeling of being a pervert, he should’ve just sent her away. He will end this immediately tomorrow, for both of their souls if he hasn’t doomed them.

She didn’t appear for lunch. Did appear for class, eyes blazing into Criston’s head. Daeron even coughed and shoved her. She was glaring, not writing a damn thing as he lectured about the battle of Lepanto. The priest’s palms began to sweat. He wished the clock would go quicker.

“I’ll get a ride home, don’t worry about me Dare,” she said after the bell rung, students packing up their bags. Daeron raised an eyebrow but shrugged, moving on. One girl attempted to approach Criston with some papers in hand.

The dragon hissed something and shoulder checked the girl— Criston reluctantly scolding the blonde. Like it mattered, the other girl hightailed it out of his classroom. Pale eyes landed upon his own dark orbs, a strange look on her face.

“Office,” she said. Cole wasn’t in the position to deny. He tossed and turned all night, fighting whether to say fuck it and hang up the cassock or dismiss her and never speak of it again. When she was in his presence it leaned toward the former.

Criston walked in first, closing the blinds while she followed him. The man’s head jerked up when he heard the sound of the door locking. Little Miss Targaryen was wearing a particularly form fitting version of the school uniform, tits pushed up under the white button-down. Suddenly Criston was swallowing drool.

She snapped, “Sit down.”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook the senior a bit, leaning down to growl, “Do you even know what the hell you’re getting into? This could ruin us both! You aren’t going to order me around, I’m the damn adult here, I swore to your mother!” He sounded desperate, weary.

She sneered up at him, unphased, “Sit down or I’ll leave and pretend this never occurred. I know you want it, you want me,” she yanked at his white collar, “Mommy doesn’t have to know, Father.”

Why Criston was like a dog at a damn eighteen year old’s commands? He wasn’t quite sure. His tongue was glued down anyways, only huffing as he perched on the chair. She padded closer, smelling of vanilla and some other perfume. He bit off a whine when she sat on his desk, thighs spreading, giving the priest a view of her lacy skimp of underwear.

“Fucking hell baby,” he pled, hands aching to touch.

“What? You sure were enjoying yourself yesterday.”

He moaned, “We shouldn’t— this could cost us our souls. The deceiver is manipulating us, a test. I lost my wits yesterday.” Criston’s fingertips dug into his leaner thighs, eyes flicking between her pretty smirk and the peak of baby pink panties. The girl hummed sadly, faux pout setting his heart to aching something fierce.

“What if it isn’t the devil? What if I’m just a gift, for you, just for you Father,” she leaned in to his face, “Think outside your little imposed box. Don’t you feel this?” She snatched one of his hands, pressing it upon her beating heart, her soft breast.

He looked guiltily to the side. Criston whispered, “If you were a gift then why is are my feelings so wanton and lustful?”

Purple eyes rolled. She hiked the skirt up, exposing pale thighs and her cute underwear. Criston whimpered under his breath, hand still on her breast, squeezing. The girl moaned, “Chaste love, no, I think he sent me just for you, maybe you had the wrong calling?” Criston threw caution to the wind— the festering in his head grew, rotting away his senses.

He’d already fucked up. Her points were making more sense by the second. Why not enjoy life before he spent the afterlife in torment? He peered at his favorite and rasped, “Show me what to do, putting my mouth on you. Can I touch you?” The brunette internally cringed at his whiny tone. She smiled victoriously, breath delightfully hitching, manicured hands unbuttoning her top.

Criston grabbed ahold of those pretty thighs, marveling at how smooth they were as he pulled them forward until her ass was the only thing perched on his desk. She squeaked and grabbed onto his dark hair, cheeks going blotchy with pink spots. The priest figured he’d have a little instinct, something long denied festering along with his sinful thoughts.

Right now he was face to face with her cunt and Criston had lost his bravado, brown eyes peering up at her. She smirked knowing she had the upper hand again. The Targaryen laughed, “Alright, panties off first Father. Do you even know female anatomy?”

He blushed darkly, ignoring the comment and yanking down those pretty panties. They matched her bra, her breasts spilling out of the push-up with heavy breath. He stuffed the lace underwear selfishly in his pocket. Criston gritted his jaw, cock pressing painfully hard against the fly of his pants. She was glistening, swollen, something he could only conjure up and still get it wrong.

“The clit is the nub at the top,” she breathed.

Criston searched her eyes with his own, abashed at the lack of knowledge before delving his face between silky thighs. He moaned pitifully, embracing the natural scent, her hand in his curls. The man lapped at her sopping hole, excitedly delving his tongue inside, already obsessed with the sweet nectar.

“Fffuck,” she whined, thighs tensing around his neck. Criston’s nose bumped against her clitoris, reminding him of the ‘magic spot’ he’d heard girls giggle about between class changes. He licked his way upward, moaning, ignoring his own need. Pink lips sealed around her button, tentatively suckling.

The blonde jerked and mewled, “Criston, Criston, yes Father!”

He flicked his tongue against the button, big hands keeping those strong thighs from closing. She was trying to scoot away from his onslaught on her, whining and shivering. Criston pulled back to rumble, “All that talk and you’re running from my tongue now little girl?”

“M’gonna fucking cum,” she half-sobbed.

The priest wasn’t going to give up. He kept his attentions on that bundle, even slipping two fingers inside her pussy, exploring until she keened again. More and more slick covered his chin and fingers, utterly lost in this divine feeling. The blonde’s legs were shaking now, breath coming in short sobs. She babbled something, one hand white knuckling the desk, the other knotted into Criston’s hair.

He wished he could have saved her shrill cry of his name as Criston pushed the younger woman over that edge. She gushed and spasmed, finally pushing him away to settle down. Her makeup was smudged, hair a fucking mess. Cole thought she never looked prettier.

He was goddamn insane over her and he knew it. The devil long had his claws gripped into the priest. The man just lied and ignored until he couldn’t. Criston grabbed her and placed her on his thighs, cock pulsing, him reaching down to relieve pressure.

The blonde wrapped her arms round his neck, pretty pink nipples exposed now, the push-up doing nothing to help. She plastered herself to his body, lips mouthing across his neck, murmuring, “You learn quick, s’good.” Criston rubbed at her back, slipping a hand down to her a handful of her cute ass.

She pulled back, pale eyes roving Criston’s face. He stared in a daze as she spoke in a sultry, raspy tone, “You’re so hard, wanna fuck you, lemme fuck you Father.” He couldn’t help but moan long and low at her desperate plea. His cock was fit to burst, straining his briefs now.

“I want it, I want it,” he gasped.

In a flurry of movement he yanked off the collar, it would sicken him to have it on. She pulled at the buttons, pausing to unhook her bra, Criston shoving down his pants and underwear. She moaned, placing hands on his chest and sliding down trim stomach until a little hand grabbed his ruddy cock.

He made a strangled noise, eyes rolling up in his head. No wonder people did this— sin was utterly sweet. Criston panted her name, about to guide her hips onto him. He paused, brows furrowing. The deceiver himself spoke through her voice, “I’m on birth control, doesn’t matter.”

That’s all he needed to hear, roughly lifting her to guide his cock into that slick pussy. Criston made a gutted noise as she slipped onto him. Warm, wet, so goddamn snug and gently ridged. He whined, straight up whined, “Don’t move, don’t move, baby baby oh— haaah!”

She purred and pressed soft tits against Criston, their shallow breathing intermingling. The female whispered softly, petting his shoulders and arms, “S’okay, breathe, relax.”

Criston shook from head to toe, exhaling sharply, pitiful noises escaping a raw throat. He pressed his swollen lips to her forehead, forcing rapid breathing to a calmer state. Still, still, the brunettes balls throbbed and twitched.

He was gonna fuck her dammit. He’d gotten this damn far, his darkest desire to fuck and fill her up after more than two pumps would kill Cole. She teased, hands back on his chest, playing with his medals, “You can do it Father, you’re not so twitchy.”

He shook his head silently, focusing on the task at hand. Father Criston Cole could never deny his sweet little dragon. She’d started squirming and whining on his lap, slick soaking his loins. He took a tentative thrust upwards, lashes fluttering.

The dam broke loose.

Criston fucked and groped, lips messily smacking against her pretty plump pout. She rode him in earnest, meeting him thrust for thrust. The chair squeaked, they moaned, grunted, cried out, a feral quality to the sacred act. He was soaking in the slaps of skin, her hitches of breath, chanting his name like a damn litany.

Criston grabbed onto her hips, planting his feet on the floor, biting his lip and scrunching eyes tight. He was moaning and moaning, drool slipping out between searing kisses. His balls were drawing tight— pounding with the need of his release.

He shoved her upwards onto the desk, thrusting brutally as she cried in ecstasy. Criston pled, “M’gonna cum, c-can’t stop, oh fuck.” She cried, “Yesyesyes don’t you dare stop, m’close!” The older man felt his balls slapping against her ass, eyes rolling up again.

His orgasm hit him like a ton of bricks, Cole mouthing at perky tits, moaning as his release soaked her pussy. It was like he was floating. She bit down on her hand to muffle a wail, arching into him, cunt convulsing and wetting him further.

But Criston couldn’t stop. He kept fucking through the oversensitive pain, sounding like he was in agony as he pounded into her. Their mixed releases made everything slide easier, his turgid cock not softening. He babbled, “Not done, another baby, take it for me, take me please.”

The blonde’s only response was clinging to his tan body, nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped tight around his waist. She sobbed harder, “Do it do it— oh my God!” Criston whined her name through his nose, drunk off the feeling, not even aware of the blasphemy.

The office grew hot, noises of flesh and high sounds filling the small space. He couldn’t shut the fuck up either, rambling, “Wet baby, can’t help myself, gotta do it, fuck it all! M’still full up, gotta stuff you baby, how can I hngh not?” He reached down between them to circle haphazardly at her abused clit, the pretty thing writhing on his dick.

Another peak was approaching, he was already leaking, ready to empty another load deep inside her eager pussy. She tightened around him as he pinched her clit, crying real tears now, his name on her tongue like a broken record. Criston wetly cried into her fragrant neck, shoving himself deep inside to give her that last load.

He made a noise, she made a noise, everything growing foggy and distant.

Next thing he recalled was his demon, angel, twisted boon cuddled in his lap, tits still out. They were a sticky mess and he hoarsely asked, “How, ugh, long?”

“A couple of minutes. You went a little dumb there and I had to get your limp ass back into this chair,” she pressed her head into his chest, Criston naturally setting his chin on her head. His hands were slowly moving up and down her flanks. He still felt a bit dumb, dazed from the intense situation.

“You,” he swallowed, “Are a gift…I believe.”

She smiled softly, pecking his lips. The Targaryen mumbled, “We need to get ourselves together, I need a ride home.” Criston nodded, clinging tighter to her frame. He stammered, “O-okay, discuss this another time?”

“Sure, but after I show you what a blow job feels like.”

He didn’t object. The collar sat out of his sight, anything he once cherished gone from his mind. She took that place. He was irrevocably, obsessively infatuated. “I’ll have to leave my position after this year,” he murmured. She looked at him, a concerned look on dainty features.

“I think I’ll be around, will you?”

He remained silent, answer obvious in the air. He’d get down on his knees again and beg to never lose this gem. Fucked up from the get-go. For once, Criston Cole didn’t care. He kissed her instead.

#hotd fanfic #hotd smut #priest!criston #ser criston cole imagine #ser criston cole smut #ser criston cole x reader #criston x reader #criston cole imagine #criston cole x reader

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matchadobo · 8 months ago

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KIDD; wedding headcanons

warning/s: partial nsfw but no occurrence of the actual thing, super fluff i died and alived

i'll fix the formatting lateeeerr >:) red ones are individual bullets while white ones are subheadings of the previous red one (hope that makes sense)

* when you bring the question to him he'll be like:

* "me? you wanna marry me?" he'd point to himself.

* "yes, silly! who else?!"

* "i-i mean," he'll instantly become red and start fumbling over his words. "i-i was supposed to pop the damn question out..."

* you best bet it'll be a full blown steampunk wedding! he'd want it to be in the victoria but it's also fine with him if you'd want a beach or garden wedding so long as the theme stays. this i what i think he'll be wearing, the aesthetic of the event, and what your gown'll be.

* during preparations, he'd mostly leave it up to you so long as you follow his color palette: red and blacks. but when it comes to foods, he'd be keen on having an attendance while you taste test and choose out stuff.

his and your fits

* before your wedding day, he'd be soooo anxious. i have this thought that when you two are individually out on your bachelor/ette parties, he'd be calling you by the end of it just cuz he can't sleep.

* "it's pretty late, kidd. did your party just finished?"

* "yeah, every one's knocked out of their damn minds. and apparently, i can't fuckin' sleep."

* "hmm, nervous?"

* "like the fuck i am." he'd try to deny it but eventually give in. "i wanna see you before i sleep."

* "but you know the superstition-"

* "fuck that shi-"

* "no! i don't want any bad luck!"

* "luck? baby, we defy all odds, don't we?"

* he'd insist but you'll also insist. so he just settled on an overnight call where you two slept in.

* during the wedding day, you two'll be tired as fuck because the only sleep you guys got was 2-3 hours because of talking and comforting each other until 5 😭. while getting ready, kidd will be more impatient and irritated than usual. but it's just due to the combination of weariness and anxiety. mostly anxiety. he never felt this anxious when it comes to you, he'd always be confident about how you two felt about each other. but right now, all he thinks if he's sure or not. if you're sure with him. eustass kidd never doubts, but he feels so deeply for you he'd never want to hurt you and that brings him to a wall. the people involve with him that day had a hard time working with him because his attitude is extraaa mean 😔

* but when he sees you at the end of the aisle as you donned a dress that looked way too good on you it was insane to him, all his worries left his body through a tear that cascaded down his eye.

* "you crying?" killer nudged kidd, noticing the taller to reach over his breast pocket to fish out the hanky.

* "shut up, you ain't the one doing the marryin'."

* i imagine his vows to reflect the kind of person he is, passionate and brute about it. he'll be soooo poetic it'd surprise you.

* "where do i even start fuck-" you'd giggle along with the audience. "i do lotsa damn declarations but this is makin' me shy, jeez."

* "name," he'd sheepishly look at you. "you are my dream and i honestly curse the seas that i'd only found you nos and not at the time i needed you the most. and now i, for the life of me, can't imagine how i'd live without you."

* "i, eustass kid, will put hands on anyone who mess with my wife, if those fuckers think they're so big, well so am i, aye?! if she cries i'll cry with her, and trust me when i say i will kill any bastard who dares do her wrong, because that's my wife, they better not look at her cuz she's taken, she's mine. got it?"

* "you've learned to love me, an insufferable asshole, in ways i never thought possible. you've seen the worst and the best, the weak and the strong, the ugly and somehow the pretty in me. you make me a better man."

* "you conquered all my fears, seized my pride, and built my strength. you are the reason i became the way i am today. you crawled your way in 'ere and took control over my heart, you little monster."

* "from the start, i haven't exactly been kind to you. i mean, i've been rude, and disrespectful; but you grew on me, you were patient and measured up to my irritated ass... so much that I don't know what happened, you really snuck up on me... so may you forgive me my past dumb mistakes. because even if I am stupid and mean, and I may not show my love properly, I love you and will do anything to give you what you fuckin' deserve. you know that."

* "name is a great woman, one who stands and always fights for what she wants, and I want the honor of being your husband. we'll conquer anything, yeah?"

* "okay i'm very fucking embrassed now so i'll just come out and say it... I need to marry you, not because I love you, not because I like you, but because I have to to... yeah, I said it, I don't like you or love you, i need you in my fucking life."

* man he'd end up crying while saying them. but his voice wouldn't waver, it's eustass kidd come ooooon

* he'd be dramatic and give you the bridal kiss where you kind of hang mid air and he supports your back.

* reception would be firrrreee it'd be an absolute rave! you'd have your wedding dress be modified where you can discard the tulle or some shit to make the dress shorter.

* your guests and dearest friends each made a speech about your craziness with each other

* "kidd was so damn insane for this girl. one time, he asked me if he should get her an otter or dung beetle as a christmas present. bro doesn't even celebrate christmas until she came along!"

* "kidd stood out as one of name's partners, he was the first jackass she fell for that was actually a keeper."

* "i'm telling you, kidd became so self-conscious when he met name! he started worrying if his lipstick was the right shade or if his eyeliner looked neat!"

* "what confuses me was whenever they talked to me about each other, the word 'i hate' always comes first and them being whipped follows after. it was annoying."

* drinking games come after, trivias about the couple and between you two after. and as expected, it was competitive because neither of you wanted to lose and give way 🤣. kidd as a man, will never go easy and let you win tho. he respects you like that.

* but what prompted me to make this hc is the wedding garter tradition 🫦. this will be his favorite part. he'd be very extra tho,

* he'll take off his suit jacket and roll up his sleeves when you two are in front for the act.

* he'd maintain reaaaally strong eye contact and will be feeling himself while you burn red and start fanning yourself from laughing or actually feeling flustered under his gaze.

* he'd get under your dress, have a long whiff of that 🐱 and his breath'll tickle you bc he nasty like that, lick your thigh a little, give the flesh on your hips a squeeze, and drag the garter off with his teeth very very languidly

* he'll be very pouty when it's time to give it to the bestman tho

* then the actual rave comesss! blasting music and lights at the victoria, it didn't seem like a wedding reception. but you and kidd were in the center of it all, dancing with each other the same way you two met in a bar.

* "wanna get out of here?" he whispered with his hands on your hips, bending down to your ear due to the deafening beats.

* "hmm, ain't this familiar?" you giggled.

* "aye. this is the part where you come with me and we kiss at the back."

* "eh? that's different from what i remember. your mean ass was angry at me for stepping on your shoe." you poked at his nose while he laughed subtly.

* "shh shh, we both know how bad that ended. bar got fucked up real good." you two broke out in laughter, reminiscing at old times.

* kidd would inevitably drag you to his quarters, man's hungrryyyyy

* he'd be so desperate to take off your clothes, with how beautiful you look today and how he was deprived of you for a couple of nights

* you'd leave the deck making out, walkign sideways, backwards, u name it

* "it'd be pretty weird if the bride and groom's gone on their reception, right?" you broke out of the kiss.

* "and we don't give a shit about it, don't we?" he'd grin, tugging at your lips

* aaaand stuff thst happens in the honeymoon happened 😏

been in the works foR WAY TOO LONG

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