#and I hate that right now would be a perfect time for us to fall back into that if you would just say yea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kurooh · 3 months ago

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DOUBLE FANTASY ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring threesomes with gojo satoru + geto suguru, nanami kento + higuruma hiromi, shiu kong + fushiguro toji, tsukumo yuki + kamo choso.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, f! reader, threesomes, oral [m&f rec], spit roasting, double penetration, some degradation, choking, rough sex, squirting, sharing a cigarette, spit, clit slaps. | 4.5K words of FILTH

xoxo, juno. comment & rb if you enjoyed <3 !

GOJO & GETO.

perhaps letting your two roommates take care of you after a messy breakup wasn’t a good idea—or is it? less than an hour ago, you’d come home sobbing, cheeks wet with tears and eyes puffy.

satoru and suguru had pulled you into a tight hug, internally thankful you’d broken things off with that asshole (they’d hated when he would come around) but also sympathetic towards you. it was a tough choice, which was then promptly celebrated over margaritas and shots on the couch. one thing led to another, and before you knew it, you were pressed flush against suguru’s strong chest, body sweltering with need hotter than a fire.

“s-sugu, i don’t think you can both fit inside.”

“not with that attitude, sweetheart,” suguru murmurs, hands settling on your hips as he places a small kiss to your cheek. “come now, anything’s possible if you believe in it.”

“bleh, you sound like confucius,” satoru fake gags dramatically, lining his cock up with his best friend’s. their sticky tips prod at your folds, and your heart races faster, rattling around in your ribcage so loudly you can hear it in your ears. although you’re a little nervous, the alcohol you’ve had helps to take the edge away; you impatiently wiggle your hips forward.

“i’m sorry . . ? do you even know who confucius is?” suguru asks incredulously, flicking his bangs to the side with a jerk of his head.

“i’ve seen you read enough of—”

“don’t do this right now,” you plead, voice whiny. “just fuck me already.”

“now, honey. you’ll have plenty of time to slut yourself out for us, don’t you worry.”

“nah, she’s right,” satoru quips, wrapping his hand around their cocks. suguru inhales sharply, unintentionally jerking his hips forward for more. “you ready for us, babe?”

you nod weakly, and the three of you moan in unison as satoru pushes their cocks inside you. it’s slow at first, but the stretch is one that you’ll remember for a lifetime—the burn of being split open on two cocks melts into something euphoric as each inch passes your entrance. satoru groans hungrily, his head falling back. snowy tufts of hair obscure his diamond blue eyes that he tightly squeezes shut, and a huff of breath leaves his lips.

suguru kisses your jaw, fingers trailing along the slopes of your body before finally sweeping over the delicate skin of your throat. you breath hitches when he whispers into your ear: “we’d always hear you begging to be choked harder. don’t you remember that, satoru?”

“hngh, yeah,” he swallows hard at the memory—he and his best friend always heard everything through those paper thin walls. they’d heard your dissatisfaction and vowed to satiate you someday. “and you’d always be going deeper, deeper!”

your cheeks burn with embarrassment. had your roommates really heard everything? how did they face you so easily in the morning after being kept awake each night?

“we’ll give you everything, sweetheart.”

suguru squeezes your throat experimentally, and the corners of his lips lift when you release a moan you’d been holding back for far too long. he and his best friend slowly start to move, rocking their hips into you and developing a smooth tempo.

“both of you are so fucking big,” you mewl, back bowing off of suguru’s chest. they’re filling you up and stretching you out and just as you think it can’t get any better, satoru’s nimble fingers wander to your clit. he curiously toys with it, eyes darkening lustfully once you react how he’d been hoping you would.

“perfect size just for you,” suguru coos, yanking you down by the throat. “satoru, spank her a little.”

he obliges, reading his best friend’s mind easily—a stinging slap lands on your clit, sending prickling shocks of pleasure through your body. the tips of their cocks kiss your cervix, pushing so deep you can’t seem to breathe. satoru gifts your swollen, sensitive clit with slap after slap; the force behind each one only increases until you’re crying freely.

but you’re not begging him to stop, you’re begging him for more.

“god, i always knew you were a fucking slut,” satoru chokes out, pausing to lick some of your slick off his palm. your stomach flips around at the simple action, something hot flashing through you when he closes his eyes momentarily and savors the taste. “finally . . got you to myself.”

then he looks at suguru, who rolls his eyes. “well, for the most part.”

“no need to sound so excited,” he deadpans, huffing beneath you. “as if you’d fuck any better than that damn ex boyfriend.”

satoru scoffs in disbelief, slapping your clit with renewed strength. his hips are still moving, still burying his cock and suguru’s inside you deeper. they’ve got you entirely stuffed—maybe this would be better than some turkey on thanksgiving. your clit throbs with each punishing slap, but your eyes still roll back each time. while they bicker, your oxygen deprived brain spins with arousal and tipsiness. you shudder, going still and barely even managing to warn them of what’s about to happen.

“fuck, i’m gonna—‘m cumming,” you sob, sounding fragile just before you’re about to break. flashes of heat chase their way through you, until they finally explode out of you, in the form of a soaking orgasm. out of patterned habit, satoru’s palm smacks your puffy clit, which only prolongs your intoxicating high further. the intense contractions inadvertently push their cocks a few inches out of you, and your cum splashes on their skin, eliciting pleased groans from them both.

“baby, did you just—”

“she did, satoru,” suguru confirms, biting back a moan.

“i don’t even—i don’t know what happened,” you pant, hissing when someone’s tip bumps against your twitching clit.

“‘s called squirting,” satoru supplies, entranced as he stares at your messy cunt. a mixture of slick and cum coats your inner thighs, and he can’t help but swipe a finger across your skin and then stick it into his mouth. he releases it with a pop, and eyes suguru knowingly.

his voice is now raspy, thick with desire. “let’s make it happen again, sweetheart. we can take turns, of course. but my face comes before satoru’s.”

NANAMI & HIGURUMA.

the smooth oak wood surface of higuruma’s desk is littered with papers hastily swept to the side, and the fabric of your skirt fans out over a few of them. pens and other stationary supplies are forgotten on the floor, along with your now wrinkled blouse.

“h-holy shit—‘romi, right there! just like that.”

“one can only hope that this’ll be enough luck to carry us through the trial,” higuruma grunts, nails digging crescent shaped indents into the fat of your ass. he’s gripping you tightly, chest heaving rapidly as he vigorously fucks his cock deeper.

“ah, hiromi,” nanami huffs, pushing a few stray hairs away from his forehead. they’d escaped their neatly gelled place on his head when the three of you had rushed into higuruma’s office to discuss the final procedures before your trial. “don’t be a downer . . . this is more than lucky. we’ll win, of course.”

you sob, clawing at higuruma’s shoulders. he’d discarded his suit jacket long ago, carefully folded it on one of his bookshelves so as not to ruin the cuffs and smoothness of the fabric. now, he’s rolled the sleeves of his white shirt all the way up to his elbows, and his loosened black tie swings in your face with each of his thrusts.

“wait, hiromi,” your clammy hand pushes against his stomach insistently, “s-slow down, it’s too much, i—”

higuruma looks toward nanami for instruction, and the latter simply pauses stroking his cock. he stands, pushing back the spinning chair he’d been sitting on, and steps toward the edge of the desk. a sheen of sweat covers your forehead and disrupts the smoothness of your makeup, but nanami doesn’t take much pity on you—instead, he lightly slaps your cheek.

“need me to show you too much, angel?” his voice is low and dark, words laced with a throaty rasp that has your pussy squeezing higuruma’s cock. nanami’s eyebrow raises as he pushes your thighs apart to take a look at the mess between them.

“seems to me like she wants you to,” higuruma nods toward your pussy, then loosens his tie and collar further. “after my turn, of course.”

nanami grunts in agreement, settling on the edge of the desk beside your head instead of the chair. the desk creaks weakly from the newly added weight, and for a moment the idea of it collapsing beneath the three of you crosses your mind. higuruma snaps his hips forward, unconsciously licking the sweat away from his upper lip when he starts up.

your hand lamely pushes against his stomach again, but he shakes his head and nanami reacts immediately, intertwining his fingers with yours and slamming your hand down on the wood. whimpers leave your lips and the air is punched out of your lungs with each of higuruma’s strong thrusts; he’s so deep you can practically feel him in your chest.

“ken, i need—my clit,” you gasp, back bowing off the desk fruitlessly. your hips twist and jerk away from higuruma’s cock, for fear of being split open. “touch my clit, i need to cum—”

nanami slaps your cheek again, and your eyes roll back at the penalizing sting. “hiromi, you hear that? she wants to cum.” he mocks your words, then turns back to you, hazel eyes burning holes into your own. “and how do good girls ask to cum, baby? certainly not the way you just did.”

“‘m sorry,” you mewl, and higuruma slaps your clit and makes you shudder. “p-please, i wanna cum for you—i’ve been a good girl!”

“hm, hiromi? you think she’s been a good girl?”

you look up at higuruma pleadingly, tears gathered in your lashes and sparkling in the light. you’ve got that blissed out and dumb look on your face, completely at peace with being thrown around and shared between them.

“sluts take it,” he groans, teeth sinking into his lower lip hard. he yanks your body closer, further bullying his cock inside you. “‘nd you’ve been running from me—isn’t that right, babygirl?”

nanami clicks his tongue, and pinches one of your hardened nipples between his fingers. he looks down at you nicely, cheeks pink and hair mussed.

“maybe i’ll let you cum when it’s my turn,” he huffs, a small smile playing on his lips when you weakly moan his name as if he’ll give you permission. “for now, you’ll have to beg. now, go on and open wide, baby.”

the moment your lips part, nanami spits onto your tongue; he watches you expectantly and nodding in acceptance when you swallow, drunk on the taste of his peppermint gum.

“that’s right,” higuruma backs him up, looking down his nose at you expectantly. “speak now or forever hold your orgasm, sweetheart.”

TOJI & SHIU.

“so, princess, still up for lunch later?” shiu grunts around a chuckle, passing the lit cigarette to toji. the latter accepts it with a scoff, rolling his jade green eyes as he sticks it between his lips.

“yes,” you and toji answer at the same time, but your voice is muffled on shiu’s cock.

toji gifts your ass with a slap and exhales the smoke, handing the cigarette back to shiu with a glare. his once stagnant hips begin to move again, almost as if he’s rejuvenated from his little smoke break. shiu only laughs, cupping the crown of your head in order to ease his cock further down your throat.

“i’m surprised you’ve got the money for that, toji,” shiu teases, exhaling sharply when the tip of his cock bumps into your uvula and makes you gag. your throat constricts around his length and you let out a muffled whine in reaction to the stretch.

“you crazy or sum’n?” toji snaps, choosing to argue with his best friend while he’s balls deep inside you. his harsh thrusts make your pussy squelch, and shiu’s cum from earlier spills out onto the bedsheets below. “of course i’ve got the fuckin’ money for lunch, but you’re gonna be the one paying, dumbass.”

his fingers find your swollen clit and he pinches it, making you gasp around shiu’s cock. you choke, gagging so hard tears pool in your eyes—shiu strokes your head comfortingly as you pull off his cock, coughing hard.

“you okay, babygirl?” and he looks at toji disapprovingly, but he only continues to fuck you. the blunt head of his cock kisses your cervix lightly with each thrust, and when he feels like he’s not going deep enough, he lifts your hips to pull you back. “toji, that was mean.”

“mean . . ? shiu, my girl can fuckin’ handle it. ain’t that right, baby?” he looks to you for confirmation, quirking a brow while the scarred corner of his lip curves into a smirk.

this whole mess had started when you’d spent a night in with toji, watching movies and taking shots every now and then. you’d gotten drunk, swaying on your feet and giggling as you’d pointed to the tv screen dazedly.

“oh, toji, look! that guy looks like shiu!”

he could see the resemblance, and grunted, “damn, he does. ugly just like him too.”

“shiu isn’t ugly!” you jumped up drunkenly to defend his best friend’s appearance, waving your arms around dramatically. “he’s very good looking, actually.”

“oh, really? he doesn’t have any muscle, though.”

“toji, don’t be silly,” you laughed at your boyfriend, “‘course he does, it’s just under all those clothes of his. if he took ‘em off, you’d know what i mean!”

“so you got a crush on shiu?” toji asked in disbelief, his cheeks flaring a deeper pink as he took another vodka shot. “aw, i should let him know.”

one thing led to another, and shiu had come over for breakfast. then your little crush had gotten out, and a bet was placed—who could fuck you better? the condition for the loser was then set in place: whoever lost would buy lunch for the three of you without question.

“y-yeah, toji,” you mumble, forehead pressing into shiu’s pelvis weakly. he’d been the first to fuck you, and now it’s toji’s turn with your pussy—you’re sure you won’t walk smoothly ever again.

“can’t hear you,” toji taunts, lifting your hips and yanking you back onto his cock. the new angle forces him deeper, stretching your cunt out even further. “wanna repeat that for me, doll?”

“ngh, f-fuck,” you moan, eyes rolling back. his cock slams into that sweet, sensitive spot that’s deep inside you, and the tears that had been building in your eyes finally pour down your cheeks. the mascara and eye makeup you’d worn for the breakfast smears against shiu’s skin and makes messy tracks down your face. he curiously slips a finger beneath your chin to make you look up at him.

“aw, baby. i really can’t wait to hear who fucked you better . . . my back certainly wasn’t cracking as much as his is.”

“shut it, shiu,” toji groans, savoring the broken moans that freely leave your lips—gasping ah’s and whines that you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to. “hand me the fuckin’ cig.”

shiu obliges, chuckling softly when he notices you pawing around his thighs in search of his cock. you whimper when you finally get his tip back in your mouth (with his guidance), slowly taking him in inch by inch. he groans, tossing his head back when he finally bumps into the back of your throat.

“m-mind if i fuck your mouth, doll face?” he asks, thighs twitching expectantly. a vein in toji’s forehead bulges at the way he steals his pet name for you.

you shake your head shyly, blinking slowly while toji fucks every single thought out of your head. he’s deliberately holding himself back so you’ll go dumb on his cock, unable to scream anything but his name. yes, this is how he’ll show shiu who can fuck—show him that you’re his girl, his doll face.

tendrils of smoke waft over your break before dissipating in the air as if they were never there. you shudder as toji’s fingers reach your clit, rubbing sloppy circles on the sensitive nub even though your hips rear away. you still haven’t recovered from the overstimulation shiu caused with both his tongue and fingers, but that’s okay. he’ll have you cumming on his cock regardless.

with a deep groan, shiu cups the back of your head to keep you steady, and he shoves his hips forward, his cock slamming far down your throat. you gag, but he’s merciless—doesn’t give you more than a second to breathe before he’s at it again, setting a brutal pace that matches toji’s.

“ugh, fuck—want ya to cum on this cock for me, doll,” he groans, starting to slap his fingers against your clit. your legs kick out in reaction, and you hump your hips back against his hand. toji’s fucked you so hard you can’t even feel shiu’s cum dripping out of you anymore; he’s seconds away from replacing it with his own thick load and having you hold it inside you during lunch.

you nod dumbly on shiu’s cock, starting to sob louder as your own orgasm hurtles toward you. the high is absolutely inescapable, and your watery eyes meet shiu’s when you tip your head up. to the best of his abilities, he’s sweetly talking you through it, his words jumbled although you manage to hear a few clearly.

“how ‘bout we all cum together?” he suggests, wiping a stray tear from your face with the pad of his thumb as if he wasn’t the one that caused it.

“whatever, just as long she does first,” toji warns, his husky voice carrying a tenderness that only you can hear. “got that, shiu?”

like a cheshire cat, he smiles in response, sticking the worn down cigarette between his lips. he takes a drag and thrusts as deeply as he can go before holding your head down at his pelvis. you can hear his quiet moan beneath the clapping of skin against skin and all the other noise; his cock shoots ribbons of white down your throat and he shudders when you swallow it all eagerly, looking up at him for more.

toji throbs against your cervix, and he grabs your asscheek in one of his hands to tug and slap at. “‘m gonna cum, shit . . . wouldn’t ever wanna cum outside of this pretty pussy.”

his fingers work your clit until you’re arching your back and crying out, gushing on toji’s cock with no end in sight. wetness sprays against his pelvis and abs, and he groans, fucking you through it.

“such a mess, doll,” he groans, slipping a hand around your throat and pulling you off shiu’s cock. he instead pins you against his muscular chest, looking over your shoulder through hooded eyes at shiu, who hasn’t gone soft yet. “fuckin’ love it, though.”

toji places a few wet kisses to your neck, moving close to your ear. “so, doll face? where’s lunch gonna be? shiu’s treat, of course.”

YUKI & CHOSO.

“c’mon, you don’t really plan to just sit and watch us, do you?” yuki pushes her blonde bangs away from her forehead with an enchanting smile playing on her lips. she playfully tilts her head to the side, eyeing choso and his seated form.

“well, i . . . you said you’d teach me,” he offers lamely, his reddened cheeks only darkening. he catches your eyes on him too and awkwardly crosses his legs, trying to hide the tent in his pants.

when you’d finally had enough of your boyfriend’s ineducable inexperience, you’d decided to bite the bullet and ask your best friend. yuki had been receptive from the start, her eyes gleaming while you’d explained the situation to a willing choso.

“oh, you won’t learn anything from over there,” she laughs, waving him over to the empty space beside her on the bed. “y’know, sex is pretty hands on.”

choso settles beside her, and the bedframe creaks as it accommodates the new weight. his fingers are trembling as they brush over the tender skin of your inner thighs, and his eyes widen when they come close to your dripping pussy. slick is smeared all over your skin and shining in the low light, utterly enticing to the both of them.

yuki spreads your legs further, and you draw in a sharp breath, lower lip slipping between your teeth.

“come closer,” she coos, pointing at your clit with a smirk. “that’s her clit . . . ‘s the secret to the female orgasm, choso. go on, give her a lick.”

without question, choso adjusts himself so he’s on his stomach, and he experimentally licks your clit. his silky tongue is flexed and nervous, dipping down further to taste the wetness trickling from your slit.

“f-fuck, choso,” you cry, insides lurching deliciously at the feeling. one look at yuki—her cheeks are colored pink, tongue unconsciously darting out occasionally to sweep over her lower lip—and another at choso, whose movements are gradually becoming more insistent, has a sweltering heat coiling deep in your stomach.

your hips jerk forward, pelvic bone nearly nailing him in the bridge of his nose, and choso’s head rears back in concern. “‘m sorry, are you—”

“our girl’s loving it,” yuki hisses, not even missing a beat as she cups the crown of his head, manicured nails digging into your boyfriend’s scalp as she forces his head back down. he doesn’t resist, letting out a muffled moan when his face lands directly in your pussy. slick smears across the lower half of his face and he feels the saliva pool on his tongue from how hungry he is.

choso’s nose bumps into your swollen clit, and a pitched whine tears from your throat. “need—i need more, please,” yuki settles onto her stomach beside choso, palm leaving his head. her fingers impatiently push past his chin, stroking lightly against your dripping pussy, and she quietly moans in delight.

you watch slack jawed as yuki pushes her fingers into her mouth, and her eyes squeeze shut. her hips grind against the bed, sheets rustling softly beneath her body. choso’s too caught up to notice, dark strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

“cho—ah, shit—use your fingers, baby.”

your boyfriend obliges obediently, carefully pushing his fingers inside you and tugging back to let yuki take over with her mouth.

that heat inside you ignites into an inferno the second her mouth finds your clit. her lips lightly wrap around it and her tongue sweeps over the swollen bud; to tease you a little further, she lets her teeth occasionally nibble at it.

“this what you wanted?” choso pants, voice lilting curiously as his eyes rake over your body. he’s always been rather shameless when it comes to looking you over, but after this, he’ll finally be able to back it up with a hundred percent. the heave of your chest and parting of your bitten lips is enough of an answer, but he wants to hear it from you. his fingers curl inside you, pressing into a spot that scratches the unbearable itch in your brain perfectly.

“y-yes, cho!” and you’ve got stars in your eyes, feeling an unfamiliar pressure straining in your lower abdomen. “wanna—wanna cum on your face, please.”

“you heard her,” yuki quirks a brow, thumb working your clit in place of her tongue. she’s got a wildness in her eyes, with the lower half of her face sticky like choso’s. “let’s make our pretty girl cum together, hm?”

choso flushes all the way to his neck but nods, his two fingers pushing deeply over and over. a small sting accommodates the stretch, but is quickly forgotten when their faces push against one another’s in their rush for a taste. your slick is sweet like ambrosia, and they’re far too greedy to take turns with your cunt.

your clammy fingers push into yuki’s flowing tresses, while your other hand cups the crown of choso’s head and pushes him impossibly closer. her moans are softer than his as she finds your clit again, licking desperately, almost as if she’s begging you to cum.

meanwhile, choso places a hand above your pelvic bone, palm pressing into the soft skin—you’d mentioned that fingering wasn’t fingering without that small detail and he hasn’t forgotten it since—and it’s becoming difficult to breathe without panting. whiny moans fill the spaces in between your babbled words of bliss, and yuki knows that she won’t be able to get enough of you once this is over.

“ooh, fuck,” you sob, nearly choking on your words when your back uncontrollably arches off the bed. your fingers tighten in her hair and your nails scratch against choso’s scalp, making a mess of his once neatly tied buns. “yuki, ‘m so close, can’t hold it—”

she’d known what had been coming the moment you’d asked for choso’s fingers. she’s unable to stop herself from smiling against your clit, and choso’s tongue bumps into her own as he fights for a piece of you too. he’d initially been all for this so he could learn how to make you tick, what you really meant when you’d beg for his mouth.

his skin is hot as it pushes against hers, their cheeks puffing up a little as they fight for dominance over your clit. they’re shaking their heads all too much, and choso’s grunting while yuki does too, sending vibrations through your already sensitive clit. that pressure burns through your body, and your legs begin to tremble on either side of them as it grows more intense.

“hmph—cum for us, pretty girl.”

similarly, choso tugs away for a moment and lets out a huff, pressing down hard while his fingertips push into your sweet spot, “let us taste it, baby.”

their simple words do the trick, and with a gasp, your pussy begins to gush waterfalls right onto their faces. yuki eagerly slurps up the slick and cum from your cunt, with no regard for the way it’s still fluttering sensitively. choso barely gets a taste, only getting the tip of his tongue wet, and he pulls back with an annoyed scoff.

“yuki, that’s—”

“y-yuki!” you interrupt, voice breaking as you pathetically try to writhe away from her. with choso sitting back, she’s able to grab you by the hips and drag you close, insistently licking you through the dizzying high. “‘s too much, wait—choso!”

“yuki,” he scolds with a shake of his head, but makes no move to pull her away. honestly, if he tried, he wouldn’t be able to. “that’s no fair, i didn’t even get a taste. and she’s my girl.” choso’s words are pointed and a little whiny, and yuki just rolls her eyes.

“then come here ‘n try again. just look at her, she’s dying for more . . aren’t ya, pretty?”

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insanechayne · 1 year ago

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~ ~ ~

#I miss our old days and I hate that about myself #I hate that I still want you so badly and can’t get you out of my head and still wish you wanted me too #I hate that it feels like I’m being torn apart from the inside out because of how badly I crave you #and I hate that right now would be a perfect time for us to fall back into that if you would just say yea #I hate that this is all I can think about right now and I hate that it makes our conversations feel so hollow because I want to go further #I hate that it feels like I did something wrong that you won’t just tell me about #I hate that you started this whole thing with me just to cut it off so abruptly #I hate that you told me you wouldn’t say never again to us but then have done exactly that #I hate that I even care at all about any of this stupid shit #I hate that it feels like you changed me so fundamentally just to tell me you don’t want that person anymore #and I hate that sometimes it feels like you ruined my life and I’ll never get me back again #I’m so full of hate and sorrow and regret and I want so much but I can’t ask you for any of it because you’ll just say no and push me away #I hate that I can’t move on or just be happy with our friendship the way it is #I hate that all of this makes me just want to cry because I can’t explain or handle these emotions #I almost hate you but I couldn’t fully feel that way because at the same time I love you too much #and yes I hate that too #personal

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luminni · 15 days ago

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Ya know what? I'm actually not done talking about Johnny being in love with his childhood best friend who now suddenly has a boyfriend.

Imagine your new "boyfriend" (Johnny hates to use that word) is actually taller than him, not just that but he's just bigger than him too. The twat looks like he hits the gym once a day and it pisses Johnny off. He's not used to many people being taller than him, most aren't (if your exclude his mates in the service). So imagine his horror when this new git you've been on about, someone he's sure he can out match, is bigger than him. Of course he's no where near as skilled and all that bulk is just that, bulk with no strength to back it up, but it doesn't matter. Johnny still hates him, he's hated everyone you've dated, they haven't been good enough for you. No one would ever be good enough for you besides him, but he's convinced himself he would be able to let you go if it was to someone worthy of you (but thats never going to happen).

He bites his lip when he has to listen to your female friends gush over your new man. "Oh he's so tall!" "He looks like he could pick you up!" "He's funny too!". Johnny doesn't get it, he could do all that and more, so much more. He picks you up and twirls your around every time you come and pick him up on the tarmac when he gets off deployment. He uses your head as an arm rest all the time, which yes, you do complain about but he sees that playful sparkle in your eye, you really do love it. Not to mention he can work you into a laughing fit that has you unable to breath. He has no clue what your friends are on about, the man they really should be encouraging you to date is him.

He still remembers when he would convince you to skip 3rd and 4th period with him, ditch school and go driving in the country side. Going to pick up take away and eating it in the parking lot, he treasures those memories. Those times when he was your entire world, when you'd look at him from the passenger seat with the sun behind your head like a halo, you always look perfect to him, even when you didn't see it. Nowadays, you were barley looking at him twice, all your attention on that new bastard who wasn't even looking at you. But when he did meet your gaze, that same spark was still there. That mischievous twinkle he recognized, the look in your eyes reserved only for him. But when the bloke would inevitably drag you to some upstairs room, he would have to leave to keep himself from dragging the disrespectful twat off of you.

And it goes without saying that the 141 has heard all about his troubles over a pint.

" 's jus' not fair!" Johnny would whine, going on and on about how upset he was for what felt like hours. " 've know 'er longer and I know 'er better'!" He would groan, slumping down dramatically to lay his face on the bar table.

Kyle would laugh at his friends sorry state, "You know wha's happened to ya mate?"

"Wha?" Johnny looked up pathetically from his position on the table.

"He's pinched yer bird"

Another dramatic groan from the Scott, followed by his friends laughter.

"An' he'd probably kick yer head in." Ghost would finally add, not helping the situation in the slightest.

Price would give the old man advice of just confessing. What's the worst that could happen? But Johnny couldn't bare to loose you as a friend too.

Now imagine his elation when you come crying to him in the middle of the night, at the door of his flat (of course he woke up from a dead sleep for you). Sobbing about how the prick had cheated on you, a blubbering mess in his arms. Johnny would let your cry and bad mouth him all night, finally getting to share with you how he truly felt now that you both were on the same page. He'll let you fall asleep in his arms after you ate every tub of ice cream in the flat. He'd have to beat the shit out of the idiotic bastard for having the gall to cheat on you but that could come later. Right now, he finally had you all to himself, protected from the world in his strong arms.

Maybe theres hope for the hopeless romantics after all.

A/n: Yes theres a happy ending because I'm incapable of writing pure angst. Also heavily inspired by "bigger boys and stolen sweethearts" by the Arctic Monkeys bc they are great.

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yieldtotemptation · 6 months ago

Text

REPUTATION ft. Minji

minji x male reader smut

9k words

“So, you’re the one,” Minji says, an accusation to make you look up from your drink. “The one they warned us about.”

Firstly, you didn’t plan for this (you never do).

The night began, as always, with the best intentions. You promised your manager that you would follow his instructions to the letter: show face, smile for the cameras, and then slip out before the real party kicks in and you find yourself knee deep in scandal. Again.

And (if you were extra good) you would end the night by scrolling through the greatest hits on your contacts list, looking for a fellow insomniac needing to past the time, needing a bed to share.

A normal, everyday kind of night.

But yet, here you are now: cornered by the girl on everyone’s playlist, all fierce determination and pouty lips wrapped up in a tight black dress.

She doesn’t bother with an introduction—no, that would be silly—instead she just stands there, looking pretty, expecting your full attention.

You quirk an eyebrow. “I require a warning?”

There’s a smile there, just a hint, playing at the edges of Minji’s mouth, like she’s in on a secret that you’re not privy to. “Beware of male seniors. Specifically,” she adds, tilting her head to the side, raising her hand, peeling one finger off the drink she’s holding so she can point a single glossy nail at “you.”

“Hm,” is all you have to say, playing coy, like this is all news to you. Like you’re not aware of your own reputation, of the things you’ve been accused of, the things your company has scrambled to cover-up, the things you’ve actually done.

“So,” she says, so carefree, so easily charming. It’s all an act, of course, a meticulously curated ‘cool girl’ image, something well-rehearsed and played a thousand times before on a thousand lesser men, a tightrope walk between relatable and unattainable. “Should I be worried?”

You know what she’s really asking for: an assessment. Do you find me attractive? Do I tempt you? Am I the type of girl worth risking your career over?

And so, you take her invitation and do the one thing that always gets you in trouble. You look. Look at her legs, long and toned and smooth, begging to be wrapped around your waist. Look at her thighs, creamy-white and barely covered by the hem of her dress. Look at her chest, the soft swell rising and falling with every breath, her collarbone glittering with the sweat of excitement.

Look higher—at how effortlessly perfect she looks, as if she wakes up every day looking like the ideal type of every man and woman in Korea. Oh, there’s make-up, it’s subtle but it’s there, playing up her best features: the height of her cheekbones, the almond curve of her eyes, the fullness of her lips.

She’s so undeniably, obviously gorgeous: a bombshell wrapped in the guise of a girl-next-door.

It’s no wonder she’s so fucking popular.

You give her a non-answer, “Depends what they’ve been saying about me.”

Minji takes a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving yours, her full pink lips curling around the straw as she sucks in the sugary liquid. It’s a deliberate move, so casually erotic—borderline pornographic, in fact—designed to make you want to grab her and kiss her and prove everything they’ve been saying about you right.

But she’s busy assessing you, you can tell, trying to reconcile the rumours with the reality—Can you really make a girl like her lose control? Make her beg? Make her forget about her image, her obligations, her entire life outside of your cock?

“Word gets around HYBE quick.” Minji’s eyes narrow just a smidge, she’s biting down into her bottom lip, and it has you imagining all sorts of things you’d rather she was doing with her mouth. “The girls at SM can’t stop talking about you. The guys at JYP hate your guts, so that says a lot.” She smiles at that last point, before listing off, “fuckboy, heartbreaker, group-wrecker, industry villain.”

It’s funny, hearing your dirty laundry aired out like that, and you can only shrug, give a casual smile as if to say ‘who, me?’. It’s admittedly a practiced move, one you’ve used to get out of sticky situations before (you may have even used it as an ending pose once). “Is that what they told you?” You ask, nodding in the direction behind her.

Minji follows your gaze, glancing over her shoulder, the wall of noise and flashing lights of the club framing her face, painting her skin with a rainbow of neon shadows.

There’s her bandmates, doing a terrible job of spying, a trio of worry and concern and gossip: they’ve found their little bunny, and she’s been caught speaking to the big, bad wolf.

She muses, “we’ve all heard the same rumours…”

“And so you came to… what?”

Minji takes a step closer, close enough for you to get a whiff of her drink; one of those sugary mixes, deceptively sweet, but just as strong as the one in your own hand. “To find out for myself,” she answers, “to see if you’re really as bad as everyone says, to see if it's all hype, or if there’s actually some truth to the legend.”

“Legend,” you repeat, trying the word out on your own tongue (it sounds sweeter on hers). “That sounds a bit much, don't you think?” you ask, trying to ignore the way she’s leaning forward now, letting the top of her dress dip, revealing just enough cleavage to stimulate your imagination. A simple gesture, so perfectly choreographed that you'd think it was incidental if you didn't know better, if it didn't have you picturing what it would be like to rip that dress off her, to expose her bare tits, to grab, lick, kiss, and—

She’s giggling out loud now, like she can hear every single filthy thought racing through your mind. “I think I'd like to be the judge of that.”

There’s an alarm bell going off in your pocket, the vibration of your phone buzzing with messages—who else but your manager, demanding to know why you haven't gone home like a good little idol yet, begging you to please, please not make another mess.

But you ignore it and take another sip of your drink, savouring the burn of the cold liquor down your throat, giving you a moment to consider. You’ve got Minji figured out, you think. It's nothing you haven't seen before (nothing you haven't dealt with before). The dream girl, the ‘ideal type’ who’s growing tired of maintaining a perfect image, looking to see how far she can push, how much she can get away with (how much you’ll let her get away with).

Because she’s probably never been told no in her life. Because she's used to getting what she wants with a bat of those lashes or a pout of those lips.

In a way, coming to you is safe, because if the worst were to happen—if you were to get caught—no one for a second would believe that one of the nation's precious daughters was the instigator.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she says, cutting through the din of the club like a knife, making you believe that she just might be telepathic. “You're thinking: she’s just another innocent idol playing at being naughty for just the night, but the second things get too wild, she’ll be out of here faster than you can say ‘Dispatch’.”

“Because you’re not like other girls.”

“Please,” she scoffs, dismissing the idea entirely. “I always see things to the end.”

“Alright then,” you say. She’s thrown down the gauntlet, and you’re going to pick it up, if for nothing else than to see just how far she’ll go. "Shall we do this here? I'll rip off your clothes, nail you in the middle of the dancefloor in front of all our friends and peers?"

She’s grinning now, not backing down, in fact she’s moving closer, like yes, that’s exactly what I was hoping for. “From what I’ve heard that would be tame for you. Is it true, what you got up to at Inkigayo?”

“That was in a parking lot.”

“And at M Coundown.”

"Under the stage.”

“Music Bank?”

“The staircase, of course.”

“See,” Minji’s whispering now, close enough that you can hear her over the thumping bass of the music, her breath warm against your ear, “you are a man-whore.”

“I have a name,” you reply, dryly.

“That’s nice.” She’s touching you now, her hand sliding up your chest, fingers playing with the buttons of your shirt. “Wanna hear me scream it?”

Your phone is still buzzing, and you know that you should be walking away. It would be the right thing to do: it’s far too public, she’s far too popular, and getting caught leaving hand in hand with her would be nothing short of an announcement that will hit the top of every social media platform by sunrise.

But it’s too late—it was over the second you locked eyes with her from across the dancefloor, when she caught you staring, blatant and unabashed, lingering on the way her ass bounced, mesmerised by how her hips swayed to the beat.

You just had to let her know she was wanted.

"Look," Minji says, her hands sliding higher now, fingers idly adjusting the collar of your shirt. "There's no angle here, no game. I'm not looking to get caught or land in a scandal, and I'm definitely not looking for love or a boyfriend or whatever fairy tale shit you sing about. I just want what all the other pretty idols are getting."

She's forward, no shame in saying exactly what she wants, daring you to dispute it, but all you can do is cock your head to the side, and flash a smirk of your own. "And what makes you think you're my type?"

Minji laughs, her teeth glinting in the neon lights—you both know it's a very, very idiotic question. "Please," she says, rolling her eyes, "I'm everyone's type."

Another glance over her shoulder, where her bandmates have been pretending not to hover, and now there’s a new face in the mix: Yunjin. Her eyes narrowed to slits, her arms folded, and her jaw is clenched so tight you can almost hear her teeth grinding from here. Unlike the other three, she’s not playing the concerned friend card; she’s the pissed off mother bear, ready to pull Minji away from the walking, talking red flag.

And so adds to your stellar reputation.

Minji notices your eyes flicker in that direction, and looking back at the group with amusement, she takes it as the cue she's been waiting for. "We better get out of here before they take your head off."

It's inevitable, really, this is how it always ends up: the sweet, innocent idol lured into the jaws of the industry monster. But you can’t help it, not when she’s looking at you like that, like she wants to be eaten alive.

You know the score, you’ve danced this dance before, and you’ve got a role to play. The only thing left to do is to take her hand and lead her out of the chaos—through the throngs of familiar faces, not giving them a chance to register what you're doing, or who you're with, or what's about to occur, again.

Not like anyone could stop it now, anyway.

"So, this is how it happens," you hear Minji murmur as you lead her out of the club, through a hidden metal door, and into the cold, night air.

Minji tastes like gin and lime cordial, her lips sticky and sweet against yours, her arms around your neck, her back pressed up against the back-alley wall. There’s something in the way she’s kissing you—giggling between breaths—like she can’t believe this is happening, like she’s getting away with the crime of the century.

Her hands are in your hair now, tugging gently, the cool metal of her rings pressing into your scalp, begging you to kiss her harder, to burn the memory of your lips onto hers. Your tongues meet in a dance that’s more battle than ballet, and she’s matching you move for move, her teeth nipping at your bottom lip, her nails scraping down your neck.

She’s eager, she’s pressing her chest against yours, making you feel just how hot she is. But yet, there’s still that annoying voice in your head, the last shreds of your conscience, telling you to give her that final out, to let her walk away with her dignity intact, go back to her members and tell them she just had to get some fresh air.

So, you pull back, tearing your mouth away from hers, giving her room to gasp for air, to let the world come back into focus, and you ask her, loud and clear, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Minji’s panting, breaths coming in short gasps, little puffs of steam out into the winter air, and she smiles. It’s a wicked little grin, equal parts surprised and thrilled, like you’ve just passed some kind of test she didn’t think you knew existed. “Are you asking for my consent?”

You balk at that. Your reputation can't be that bad. “Is it so unbelievable that I'd ask?” Even though you already know, deep down, she’s not going anywhere, there’s a power in hearing her say it. Saying that she wants you, specifically, to ruin her.

“No, it’s just…” Minji starts, looking up with those big, dark eyes, and you can almost see the gears turning in her head, trying to figure out how to play this, before ultimately landing on the word, “nice.”

She pulls you back towards her, kissing you again, those soft, pillowy lips of hers meeting your mouth in a kiss that’s so inappropriately sweet, like she’s sealing a deal with sugar rather than ink.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her voice steady, sure. “I want to do this. More than anything.” Minji tilts her head back, exposing the column of her throat, inviting you to kiss it, to suck, to bite. “I want you."

You don’t need any more convincing than that. Your hands are on her body, running over the curves of her hips, the dip of her waist, the swell of her chest. And she’s leaning into your touch, needing to feel more of you, wanting you to explore her. And you do, greedily, feeling her breath hitch when you graze her nipples through the fabric, feel her hips jerk when you trace the line of her panties.

“Are we going to—gah—go back to your place?” Minji tries to ask, her question punctuated by a moan as your fingertips dance over the smooth skin of her inner thigh, the hem of her dress whispering against your skin.

You’ve already made your decision—you're not taking her home, you're not taking her anywhere with a bed, or even a chair. You're going to have her right here, right now. There’s no need to answer her, you just let her work it out for herself when you push her back against the wall, when your thumb finds the slick, wet heat between her legs.

“Here?” She gasps, turning to look down the darkened end of the alleyway, at the distant streetlights, at the crowds of people oblivious to what’s about to happen beneath the shadows.

“It’s not the dancefloor, but it’ll have to do,” you murmur, leaning into her, pressing your lips against her cheek, her jaw, her earlobe.

“B-but, what if—” Minji stammers, but you’re busy toying with the lace of her panties, nothing more than a mere formality at this point, only existing to get wetter, to be unavoidably ruined by you.

“What if someone finds us?” You finish her question, nibbling at her ear. “Then we’ll just have to make sure we leave them something to talk about, won’t we?”

She’s shivering at the thought of it—the headlines, the think pieces, the whispered scandals that will follow you both for weeks, maybe months, maybe forever. But you can feel her resolve hardening, her spine straightening, her body arching towards yours, and she replies, “Then don’t hold back.”

The challenge is clear: she’s embracing the thrill of the forbidden, the rush of potential disaster, the heady feeling of need overshadowing the fear of getting caught.

You don’t disappoint. Your fingers slip under the soaked lace, and she’s sensitive, so, so sensitive. She’s staining your fingers, needing only the smallest amount of pressure to garner a reaction. You tease her, drag your finger across her tender folds, dare to skim over her clit, torture her with anticipation.

Whatever concerns she has evaporates as you kiss down to her collarbone—you’re going to leave a mark—and she’s already asking for more, “Please.”

She’s whining, parting her legs, desperate for you to do more than just touch her, needing you to rip through her panties and take her.

“You're right—I don’t care,” she sighs into the wind, handing her fate over to you. “I need you. Now.”

That's all you need to hear, everything you've ever wanted to hear someone as seemingly untouchable as Minji say to you. You pull down her panties, needing an extra tug as her slickness sticks them to her thighs—she’s so fucking wet for you—and you draw a circle around her entrance with your finger.

“Right there,” she cries. She’s much more honest when she’s desperate—gone is the posturing, the taunting, the act—she’s just a girl who needs to feel something real. So, you give it to her—push your finger inside, gliding in smoothly, a perfect fit around your digit.

Only knuckle deep but she’s already got you like a vice, squeezing around your finger like she’s trying to keep it captive—so wet, so tight, so fucking good. Her nails dig into your shoulders as you push in another finger, stretching her just enough to make her gasp, just enough to make her fulfill her promise to cry out your name, “Fuck—!”

Her pulse is racing like a runaway train, hammering against your lips—you’re pushing both fingers all the way inside her now, sawing them in and out of her, making her groan, making her repeat your name over and over again.

You’re in her ear, “you’ve got to be quiet, Minji.”

But she’s not having it. “Make me,” she laughs, daring you, another challenge she’s putting down.

You kiss her hard, replacing the laughter in her mouth with your tongue, muffling her cries as you fuck her with your hand, you’re going to ruin her now. You curl your fingers up to hit that spot that makes her toes curl in her sky-high heels, making her gasp, her head thunking back against the wall.

She’s trying, she really is, to keep it in, but she still needs you to keep her standing, to hold her up as your fingers delve deeper; to keep her from melting into a puddle all over your hand.

Still, you’re relentless, feeling her out, learning her rhythm, her reactions, the spots that make her sigh and fall apart. You know you’ve found it when her breaths turn harsh and ragged, and she’s rolling her hips against your hand, and there’s that noise—the sweet, slick sound of her pussy swallowing your fingers whole—and she’s whining into your mouth, “This feels so—”

“Hot,” you finish for her, watching as her cheeks flush a delicious shade of pink, her pupils blown wide, those angelic features of hers contorting with every thrust of your fingers. “You’re so fucking hot, Minji.”

And she is, she’s hot, she’s so hot around you, against you, her hips bucking at the praise, and she whimpers, your name a staccato prayer on her lips. “More,” she demands, but she’s tripping over her words—“more—please—how does it feel so—”

“I’m going to make you cum now, Minji,” you state, your voice low and sure, your fingers continuing their persistent rhythm inside her. She nods, panting against your neck. “And after that, I’m going to fuck you and make you cum all over again. Until you can’t walk straight. Until you forget every other name but mine. Do you understand?”

Her eyes flutter closed, and she nods again, a whine escaping her throat, and she’s biting her lip so hard it’s going to bruise—another mark she won’t be able to explain tomorrow.

You lean in closer, whispering, “Good girl.”

You’re finger-fucking her in earnest now, her body moving in sync with your hand, the alleyway walls echoing with the slap of skin and the wet sounds of your digits plunging into her, your knuckles smacking against her clit. She’s trying to keep it together, trying not to scream out loud, her eyes squeezed shut tight as if that could hold back the orgasm that’s barrelling down on her.

Her breaths are coming out in little pants, and you know she’s close, so close, she’s nearly crying. “Just your fingers—fuck—it’s just your fingers,” she’s repeating it in disbelief, like it shouldn’t feel this good, not yet, like she needs the mantra to keep herself grounded as your hand lights up every nerve in her body.

She’s there, right on the edge, only needing that extra push, that pressure in just the right place, just waiting for your word to send her spiralling over. “Cum for me now, Minji.”

And that’s all it takes.

You hold her steady, fuck her hard with your fingers, rub at her clit, and she’s clenching down, all tiny shakes and choked gasps, her eyes snapping open and then squeezing shut as she reaches the precipice.

"God—fuck—I can't—"

It hits her hard and fast and all at once—her whole body seizing around your hand, her cunt tightening, her hips thrusting forward, needing more friction. Her mouth opens wide, but you trap her lips before she can make a sound, kissing her fiercely, tasting the sweetness of her release on her tongue, feeling the tremors of her orgasm travel from her core to the tips of your fingers.

Her hands are all over you, her nails digging into your shoulders, leaving little half-moons in your skin as she clutches you closer, her tongue dancing with yours as if her life depends on it. You keep going, not letting up until she’s fully ridden the wave, and it’s a sight to behold—Minji coming apart against a dirty alley wall, her legs trembling like they might give out at any second.

When she does finally go still, when her breathing starts to even out, you break the kiss, pulling away to look into her eyes, searching for the usual signs of regret or embarrassment that often follow these kinds of moments. But she’s looking at you with something else entirely: a mix of awe and excitement, like she’s just experienced something she never knew existed.

“You okay?” You murmur, the question more of a formality than anything, because she looks absolutely anything but okay. She looks fucking amazing, a breathless, boneless mess against the wall, her chest rising and falling rapidly with every inhale.

Her eyes are still glazed over, wide and dark, her mouth slack and swollen from your kisses. You can see her trying to process what just happened, the reality of it all, but she’s still too lost in the aftermath of her orgasm to form coherent thoughts.

“Yeah,” she breathes out finally, nodding shakily. “I’m—yeah, I’m good.”

You withdraw your hand, giving her pussy one last gentle squeeze before pulling away, and she whines, a high-pitched noise that makes you twitch.

She’s flushed, her hair a mess from your hands, her lipstick smudged, her dress hiked up around her waist, panties around her ankles. The way she’s looking at you now, it's worship, like you're a secret that she’s just discovered and is desperate to keep to herself. “I fucking knew it,” she says. “The rumours were true.”

You smirk, wiping your hand on the side of your pants, watching her struggle to stand straight. “Ready for round two?”

Her gaze flicks downwards, to the bulge in your pants, and she nods, swallows hard. “Yeah, I—fuck yes.”

There’s no hesitation now, no pretending she doesn’t know what she’s signed up for. She’s all in, and you want her, here, now, because that’s what you do—you take what you want.

You kiss her again, deep and greedy, one hand on the wall behind her head, the other gripping her tight, keeping her in place as you grind against her, letting her feel the hardness of your cock, everything she’s been waiting for.

“Please, don’t stop,” she pleads, and you don’t—you can’t.

Not now, when she’s letting you tug down on her dress, letting it pool around her ankles like a discarded secret. She’s a vision, standing in the cold, stark alley in just her heels and her underwear—and there’s her tits, perky and perfect, begging to be touched.

You don’t even bother with the bra, you just yank it down, the straps snapping and the fabric falling away to reveal her nipples—pink and stiff and so fucking tempting. You can’t help yourself, they’re practically calling for you to taste them, so you draw one into your mouth, feeling her gasp against your ear, her hand sliding into your hair, holding you against her chest.

Her skin is hot against your tongue, and you suck, and bite, and lick until she’s whimpering, until she’s pushing herself into your lips. Your hand is exploring the rest of her naked body—running down her stomach, tracing the lines of her abs, feeling her stomach muscles clench with every breath she takes. She’s so tight, so toned—it’s like you’re touching a sculpture, or a personal playground made just for you.

“Oh my God,” she whimpers, “so good, so, so good, how does it feel—?”

Her words cut off as your teeth graze her nipple—she’s so reactive to every touch, and it has you wondering—has she ever been touched like this before? Has her body every truly been explored like this, pushed to these heights?

“You want more?” You murmur into her chest, your fingers returning to her wet folds, your thumb reintroducing itself to her clit.

“Your cock,” she says, sucking a harsh breath through her teeth. “I want it, I need it—please—I’m ready for it.” It’s that word—please—how it rolls off her tongue, the desperation in it, how it makes her sound so needy and vulnerable.

“Then take it,” you command, breaking away from her chest, stepping backwards to give her room to do exactly what she's been begging for.

Minji doesn’t miss a beat, hands gentle but determined, her fingers at your belt, fumbling with the buckle, loosening the zipper. She’s hungry for it, for this moment of truth, to verify for herself—what’s been talked about in whispers and rumours, what’s been taunting her all evening.

Your pants hit the ground, and she’s staring at your cock with wide eyes, and for a second you can almost see the doubt creeping in. But she swallows it down, and with a soft grip, wraps her small hand around you, stroking you from base to tip.

“So this is it,” she says, taking the full measure of your length, her thumb smearing the pre-cum over your head. “This is the cock that ruins idols. They said it splits women in half.”

You chuckle, but she’s completely ignoring you, well, ignoring all parts of you that isn’t your cock. Her hand is tentative at first, working its way up and down, feeling you grow harder by the second in her palm. You can feel her wonder, her excitement, a hunger matched only by the ache in your cock.

It's the way she’s not saying anything, just touching, feeling. Not that you mind the quiet—it's intimate, just the two of you, the sound of her breaths, your heart beating in your ears, and the distant thump of the world you left behind.

She’s gaining confidence now, her strokes more deliberate, a smug smile gracing her lips as she watches how you react to her touch. You bite back a groan, not wanting to give away how much she’s getting to you, but fuck, she’s getting good at this. She’s clearly learning on the job, eyes keen to see just how you like it—how fast, how tight—how to make you fall apart in her hands.

It’s time to reign her in, you’re heading into deeper waters now. You grasp her wrist, stopping her, ignoring her pouts and whines. “Not yet,” you say, “I’m going to split you in half with my cock now.”

That makes her grin. She does this thing, this cute little twirl, spinning around on her heels to face the wall, and posting herself up against it. Her legs spread wide, giving you a perfect view of her splayed pussy, glistening under the dim neon light. She’s got her hands above her head—she’s putting herself on display for you, like your own private Mona Lisa.

A look back at you and she catches you gawking—eyes glued to her ass, her pussy—and she winks. “Are you just going to stare, or do I have to make you fuck me?” She says it so casually, like she’s back at the bar ordering another drink. “Hurry up, please. I need it. Inside me. Now."

No more waiting, no further invitations needed—there’s teasing, and then there’s both of you craving it, dying for this.

You’re behind her in an instant, pressing her into the wall, her cheek against the cold brick, her juicy ass up in the air. You guide your cock to her entrance, the head nudging against her—she’s soaked, pussy drooling on your tip—and she gasps, looking back at you with those doe eyes, all wide and innocent—like she hasn’t been begging for this since the moment she looked in your direction.

“Fuck Minji, you're so fucking wet for me,” you say, running your cock down her slit, coating it in her juices, “so needy for me, aren’t you?

“Yes,” she whispers, her voice strained, like every moment without your cock inside her is torture. “I want it all. Every fucking inch.”

The first push is a slide into heaven—she’s tight, so fucking tight, so, so wet, like she’s never had anyone else—like she’s been waiting just for you. She’s teary, gasping, and you feel her body tense, but she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t dare ask you to stop. Instead, she arches her back, pushing herself back onto you, urging you deeper.

“God,” she’s chanting now, feeling inch after inch sliding into her, “it’s so—it’s already making me so—”

It’s slow, deep, fucking, stretching seconds into an eternity, stretching her pussy out with your girth, stretching her to fit you, to keep you, to never let you leave. It’s careful, almost tender at first—let her set the pace, let her show you how much she can take.

She’s moaning, low and guttural, and you wrap one hand around her waist to hold her steady as you thrust into her, let her get comfortable with your size, make her tits bounce with every pump, make her legs shake beneath her. And then there’s that lip bite again—she’s trying to keep quiet, but little moans are escaping her, getting lost in the night.

You ease out, then push back in, setting a steady rhythm that’s got her rocking back onto you. Minji seems like a delicate little thing, but there's a strength to her, a suppleness—she’s meeting you thrust for thrust, her pussy like pure velvet around your cock, gripping you tight, trying to milk you.

Hand finds her chin, tilting her head back so you can kiss her again—long, deep, tongue-filled kisses that make her whine and buck against you. She’s slowly, but surely adjusting to you now, her body learning the rhythm of your cock, getting used to being so completely filled.

It's in the way she's moaning into your mouth, like she's never been fucked like this before, never had someone so big, never had a cock so demanding of her tight little cunt. But she's so eager for it, her pussy so warm and welcoming, swallowing you up with every thrust.

It’s not normally like this—you’re not normally like this—but something has you asking between kisses, “You okay?”

She laughs, pushing herself back against you, pushing her cunt down on you, taking you deeper, burying your cock to the hilt. “I’m not going to break, I promise,” she says, looking over her shoulder, needing this. “I need you to fuck me—no holding back—I can take it all—everything you’ve ever given anyone else, all those other girls. I can handle it.”

“Show me.”

It’s throwing gasoline on a fire—she's asking for it, burning for it. You fuck her like you mean it—pull out all the way, force it all the way back in, hard, deep, rough. A shriek and she's wailing now, true to her word she’s taking it, taking it all, utterly lost in each perfect push into her cunt. She’s so beautiful like this, so open and raw—gone is the perfect idol, she’s just another girl getting fucked in an alley by some guy she just met.

Both hands are gripping into her hips, holding her in place, holding her upright, feeling her walls clench and release around you. Marks are going to be left there too, your fingerprints on her skin, bruises that she’ll have to hide with makeup tomorrow.

“So good—so fucking good—just—“ Minji can barely make out full sentences, let alone words as you fuck her, as you own her. “Harder! Fuck! Rougher!"

It’s like a drug, this power, watching her come apart for you, knowing you’re the one making her feel this way, knowing she’ll let you do whatever you want, whatever you need as long as it makes her come apart. And you’re feeding off of it, her words pushing you closer to the edge, letting her need for you drive you, unlock that primal part of your brain. Fucking her like this, so filthy and wrong and everything you love about this life.

You pick up the pace, driving your hips forward—"harder—fuck—harder"—until she’s shaking, her legs giving out, and the only thing keeping her on her feet is your cock and your arms.

“Fuck—I know what they said but—fuck! Is this what they all felt?” She gasps out, “is this how it always feels?”

Your lips on her neck, her hair sticking to your face, the scent of her perfume, of her, intoxicating. “It doesn’t always feel like this,” you answer, you grunt. “But you do. You feel so fucking good, Minji. So fucking perfect for me.”

“You're so big,” she says, her voice trembling, “I feel so—fuck—full.”

It’s not just the way she’s clenching around you, how she’s now able to take every inch of you like she’s been fucking you her whole life—it’s how she says your name, like you’re the only one that could ever make you feel this way, like you’re the one who ever will.

You grab her tits, squeezing them, seizing them, pinching and twisting her nipples between your fingers. All it does is make her beg, “fuck—I love it—how rough you are—” needing more of everything you have, “your hands—your cock—please don’t stop, don’t ever stop—I can take it please—rougher please—fuck!”

Something cracks inside you, and your hand comes down on her ass, the sound bouncing off the walls like a gunshot. Minji jolts, yelps, but the noise is quickly swallowed by a moan, a squeezing of her cunt around you.

“Fuck that felt—”

You do it again, and again, each slap a little harder, a little more punishing, the sting making her flesh jiggle deliciously with every impact. She doesn’t retreat, she’s slamming her ass back down on you, slapping her cheeks against your waist, needing to feel more.

“Gah—fuck—harder!”

She can’t help herself, minutes ago she could barely handle your size, now she can’t hold back from crying out for more pain, more excruciating pleasure.

Each smack, each groan, each breath that’s ripped from her lungs is a declaration of your power, of her need. And you revel in it, your hand coming down on her ass, leaving a trail of red marks against her creamy-white skin.

“More, please, more,” she calls for it, calls for the sting, the heat, her pussy clamping down on you, walls pulsing with every hit, her body needing the release that’s building up, inevitable and intense.

Her ass is nothing but a canvas painted by the strokes of your hand and the relentless pounding of your cock, and you can’t help but admire your handiwork, you're struggling to suppress the urge to lean down and kiss each spot you’ve marked.

“You’re going to be so sore tomorrow,” you say, your teeth grazing the shell of her ear.

“I know,” she answers, her voice a whine, a plea, a moan. “But this is what I wanted—to feel—to remember this—this moment—getting fucked like you own me—because you do—so don’t hold back—don’t ever hold back.”

You’re both sweaty, panting—you can feel her orgasm building, like a storm in the distance, thunder rumbling closer and closer until it's right above you, ready to break. And there’s your own, too, that delicious pressure at the base of your spine, the promise of release, coming at you just as quick.

But you’re not going to let her get there—not yet—not when you’ve got her like this, pliant and open and so in need. You lean forward, your chest pressing against her back, and slide your hand down, reaching around to find her clit.

It’s slick and stiff and wanting, and Minji screams—a high, keening sound that you want to hear again and again. You’re playing with it, swiping it with your thumb in tight circles, feeling her clench around you with every pass.

“I’m almost—God that feels so good—I’m almost!”

But you stop, pull out of her, abruptly, making her cry out, making her turn around, a mess of emotions on her face—desire, confusion, awe.

“What are you—” Minji tries to ask, but you’re spinning her around and pressing her back against the wall. Her leg comes up, wrapping around your waist, but you take it and lift it higher, testing the extent of her flexibility, throwing it over your shoulder.

She’s right on that edge, you can see it—her pupils dilate, her mouth opens in a silent scream, her body tenses, her cunt melting around you. But you weren't going to let her cum like that, not without watching her face, not without seeing the moment she cracks and shatters.

Now you’re face to face, chest to chest, her eyes needing yours to anchor herself to, needing to know what you’re going to do to her. No time for breaks—in one, deep thrust you're all the way back inside her, making her scream with the suddenness of it, the shock, the bliss of being so perfectly filled.

She groans, weeps with each pump into her, and she’s smiling through it all. “So—” she asks, struggling to form intelligible sentences. “How do I—fuck—how do I—mmmph—compare to the others?”

You grunt, barely registering the question, your mind clouded by the spasms of her cunt around you. “What others?”

“The other girls—God—the other idols,” she says, strained. “The ones you’ve fucked before—the ones you’ve ruined—how do I—aah—compare?”

You kiss her again, a bruising, punishing kiss that steals the question from her lips. You don’t need to answer that. You’re showing her. You’re fucking showing her how she compares, how she’s the best, the tightest, the wettest, the most eager. You’re showing her how she’s going to be the one they whisper about in the halls of HYBE and beyond, she'll become the story that will be told as a warning, about the sweet, innocent idol ruined in a dirty alleyway.

Your world is spinning around you now—there’s your hand on her throat, a gentle squeeze, just enough to make her eyes water, to make her breath catch. But she’s not scared, not with the way she’s grinning, not with how she’s grinding her hips to meet yours.

“Fuck—make me scream—” It’s a plea, a demand, she’s so stunning, so tortured in her need for it, “do whatever you want to me, whatever you need—just—make me cum harder—God please—harder than any of them ever did.”

Any care you had for getting caught, about the consequences of what you're doing—where you're doing it—dissipates into the ether. Nothing exists outside of the race to her orgasm, outside of your hips recklessly pounding into her, reducing her to moans and shakes and trembles.

“Cum for me,” you growl, “right here, right now, Minji—cum for me again—show me that you’re mine.”

“I was made for you,” she says, and it’s not just the heat of the moment talking, it’s something else, something deeper. She’s not just saying it to get off, she’s saying it like it’s a revelation, like she’s been waiting for you, for this exact moment.

“Prove it.”

It hits her like a fucking truck, and Minji’s screaming, filth belted from her mouth and into the night, her pussy quaking around your cock, her whole body entering into seizure. You keep going, riding out her orgasm, feeling her cum on your cock, feeling her body go rigid, her muscles tense, it’s those abs, so tight, it’s those absurdly strong contractions that have you falling after her.

“God—fuck, I—can’t believe—can’t believe—”

You’re fucking her through it, not giving her a moment’s reprieve, not letting her come down from that high, because you’re not ready for this to end, not when she’s so helpless. You hold her tight through it, let her shake, rattle against you, let her nails dig into your arms, let her cum drench you.

“Fuuuuuuck!”

It’s too much for her to take, and once the storm has finally subsided, Minji is just a ragdoll in your arms. Her legs are limp, held up by your grip alone, still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her makeup is ruined, a mix of sweat and your kisses, leaving dark streaks on her cheeks. Her hair, plastered to her forehead, her eyes half-closed, and there’s her body—marks of your teeth on her chest, her breasts, the bruises of your fingers around her hips, the mottled red of her ass, a map of your dominance painted on her perfect skin.

It’s not just the physical marks you’ve left on her; it’s the way she’s looking at you now, awe, desperation, realisation that it’s all true, every rumour, everything they’ve said about you—and she’s the latest filthy chapter in your story.

But you’re not done yet, you haven’t finished. You’re pulling out, and she’s whining, making your cock throb with her pleas. You guide her to the floor, to her knees, her dress puddled around her, the cold concrete biting into her skin.

You’re standing over her, looking down at her like she’s a prize, your prize. “Open your mouth,” you tell her, and she does, without hesitation, without question.

You grab your cock, still slick with her juices, and stroke yourself, watching her tongue dart out to lick her lips, watching the anticipation build in her eyes.

It’s the sweetest, most erotic sight you’ve ever seen—Minji, the girl that's everyone's type, the girl who could have anything she wants, anyone, on her knees for you—tongue out, mouth wide open, waiting eagerly for your cum.

And then you do it—you let go, shooting ropes of hot cum, painting her face, letting it dribble down onto her chin, onto her chest, onto her toned stomach, covering her until she’s a sticky mess of lust and desire. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t pull away—she loves the feeling of it, shivering as your hot cum hits her skin.

She holds position through it all—knees on the ground, eyes closed, a serene smile as if she’s just been blessed. And when you're done, when your cock is finally spent, she looks up at you with a grin that's pure sin.

Minji takes a finger, dips it into the mess on her chin, and tastes you. It's a bold move, it’s messy, it’s wrong, it’s perfect. There’s the glimmer of triumph in her eyes, the knowledge that she's made you do something so raw, that she made you lose all control.

For a second there’s nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, the come down from your euphoric high. Minji speaks, still shaky from the orgasm that ripped through her. “That was—” she pauses, searching for the right word. “—incredible. Fuck!”

There’s a rush of arrogance, a smug smile of satisfaction at her confession. “So, do I live up to the legend?”

Minji wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, smearing your cum across her cheek. There’s a glint in her eye, like she’s got a secret that she’s dying to share. “More than I could have ever imagined. You’re not just a man-whore, you’re a fucking artist.”

You laugh at that, as you tuck yourself back in, smoothing down your shirt, trying to compose yourself, pretending like her words don’t mean anything to you, like you don’t take pride in the validation of every girl you fuck.

“How do I rank?” she asks, the question coming out of nowhere, and you blink down at her, your brain trying to catch up. “I mean, out of all the idols you’ve fucked?”

“Rank?” you repeat. "I don't keep a list, that would be..." You trail off, realising what you're about to say, and now it’s her turn to laugh.

“Crass?” she supplies. “I know, but I’m just curious.”

“You’re fucking fantastic, that’s for sure,” you reassure her, making her giggle, the laughter bubbling up from her chest like it’s the best compliment she’s ever heard. “Why—do you keep a list?”

Her smile falters for a moment, but then she’s grinning again, looking even more wicked with the cum pasted across her face, and it makes you want to bend her over and fuck her all over again. “Of course I do. And you’ll be happy to know that you’re number one.”

“That’s good to know.”

But then she says, “Of one.”

And you freeze. The air around you turns to ice, and she’s looking up at you with those big, dark eyes, and you realise what she’s saying, what she’s just admitted to you. You’ve taken her virginity, and she’s looking at you like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

“You were…” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Don’t,” she says, her voice firm. “Don’t make this something it’s not. I wanted this, and I wanted it to be with you. I told you: I can handle it all.”

But that doesn’t stop your mind from racing, trying to process what she’s saying. You had your suspicions—she was so tight, so new, so untouched—and now she’s yours, in a way that no one else can claim. You wiped away her innocence, and she’s not running, not crying, not regretful.

The weight of it settles in your stomach, a strange cocktail of pride and guilt. You’ve ruined her, in the best way possible. You’ve claimed something precious and pure, and she’s given it to you willingly, eagerly.

“Fuck, Minji,” you start, trying to find the words. “If you had told me, I would’ve—”

“You would’ve what? I lost my virginity by having filthy, mind-blowing sex in a dark alley with the best cock in all of Korea,” she says, pridefully, with her entire chest, fully believing every word she's saying. “Can you really tell me your story was any better? I bet whoever it was with didn’t scream like I did. Or cum so hard she couldn’t see straight.”

You cast your mind back to the past, and you have to concede the point. “I see what you mean. But still—” You feel like you should say something, but what? It’s not like you can apologise, not when she’s looking at you like that, like she’s just won the fucking lottery. “How does it feel?”

“A-ma-zing,” she draws out, rising to her feet. “Everything I’ve ever heard about, multiplied by a million. You might’ve ruined sex for me completely.”

You watch as she puts herself back together, sliding her panties back on, tugging her dress over her head and down her hips. She’s smoothing her hair back, trying to fix the mess you’ve made of her; wiping at the cum on her chin, her cheek, trying to erase the evidence of your encounter, trying to put the mask of the sweet, innocent idol back on.

But you know better. You know what’s hiding beneath that polished exterior.

“Come home with me,” you find yourself saying before you can think better of it.

Minji turns to you, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and there's that hint of challenge again. “Why?” she asks, tilting her head to the side. “You want to cuddle and fall asleep together? Wake up, have breakfast in bed?”

“Yeah,” you nod, honestly. “After I’ve fucked you senseless again, of course. But yeah, come home with me.”

“That would be nice,” Minji says, a soft smile on her face. It's surreal, this moment, so at odds with the grimy alleyway and the smell of sex sticking to her skin. She looks so pure now, in complete contrast to how roughly you were fucking her just moments ago. Her innocence wasn’t lost, it was just painted with a fresh coat of your sin. “But—you know I can’t. They’re waiting.”

“Worth a shot,” you shrug, not bothering to hide your disappointment.

And then she produces your phone, holding it out to you. “You need to be more careful with your things.”

“When did you—”

“Now you’ve got my number,” she says. “You’re welcome to do whatever it is you want with it. But I’m hoping you use it.”

You take it out of her hands, swiping away the string of missed calls and messages, the digital proof of how much trouble you’re going to be in come morning. But for now, it’s irrelevant. For now, there’s only Minji, and the way she’s standing there, looking up at you, smiling like she’s just stepped off the stage.

“You’re going to go back to them?” you ask, gesturing towards the club entrance, to where the rest of her group are probably still gossiping, plotting your downfall.

“Of course,” Minji says. “They’re my friends. They care about me. They’ll want to make sure I’m okay.”

“And when they find out what we just did?”

“Oh, they’re going to want to kill you,” she answers, with a giggle. You’ve had enough of these types of conversations to know she’s not joking. “Except Dani, maybe. She’ll probably want a shot at you too. If I let her.”

"Noted," you say, trying to keep the image of Danielle, splayed against the wall like Minji before her, out of your head. "What exactly are you going to tell them?"

Minji pauses, thinking, before landing on a succinct summary. "I’ll just tell them that you fucked my brains out and then ditched me in an alley.”

You sigh, “sounds brutal.”

“Well, it is what it is,” Minji says, and she’s pressing a kiss to your cheek, her lips still sticky with the residue of your cum, the last traces of what's just happened.

You watch her go, watch as she turns away, walking back towards the club, a little stumble, a little trouble keeping steady. You should be feeling guilty, you should be regretting this, but all you can think is how good it felt, how right it felt. And you know you’ll do it again—you know it deep in your bones.

Minji turns back to you, catching your eye, catching you staring again, and she smiles. “You better go now. You do have a reputation to maintain, after all.”

#kpop smut #minji smut #newjeans smut #male reader

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metalarmsrcool · 2 months ago

Text

bookworm blurb

pairing: bookworm!reader x rafe

synopsis: you’re trying to read your book but a certain someone can’t help but distract you

warnings: fluff, smut, daddy kink, pet names, MDNI

something about books always calmed you down. you were an anxious mess ninety nine percent of the time but reading always helped shut your mind off. it made you stop thinking about all the what ifs and kept you from overthinking. you could get so into a book sometimes hours would pass when in felt like only minutes. you could completely focus in on the words on the page and completely forget everything around you. which is why you didn’t notice him standing there watching you.

rafe thought it was cute how you could talk about books all day. he didn’t have the attention span to read that much but he always admired you for it. the way your face would light up when you discovered a new favorite. sometimes you would even cry when one of your favorite characters died. he hated when you cried of course but he found it so fucking endearing how connected you could be to these characters.

he shook his head and slowly walked towards you. your stomach was against the cushions, you knees bent with you feet in the air. your hair in a messy ponytail on the cusp of falling out. they’d spent the whole day home. the weather outside one of those rare cold, rainy days. you always said you loved listening to the rain as you read. it was the perfect background noise.

“hey sweetheart.”

you jumped, quickly closing your book. a blush already rising on your cheeks. you knew you shouldn’t be embarrassed but you always were. your thighs rubbed together as you turned your head to look up at him.

“you scared me!” you let out a laugh as you made to get up but his hands pushed your back down. “what’re you doin’? don’t you wanna sit with me?”

“ ‘course I wanna. but you look comfy, keep reading I just wanted to see you.”

he lifted your legs and slid under you. his hands immediately going to massage your thighs. he could never keep his hands off you for long. Whether it was holding your hand or playing with your hair.

you went back to your book. quickly getting immersed in the words again. it wasn’t uncommon for rafe to sit with you while you read. his hands mindlessly rubbing up and down. occasionally his fingers would drift a little too far up. fingertips grazing your underwear. you hadn’t bothered getting dressed this morning. simply throwing on a shirt and pair of panties.

you’re not sure how long has passed but you were a little more then halfway done with your book.

“baby?” his fingers stopped just below your underwear. tracing the fabrics edges but never straying to your center.

“hmm?”

he knew what he was doing. you’d manage to block him out for the most part. but he’s been getting touchier the longer you read.

“you’re so pretty.” both his hands came up to squeeze your ass and you let out a little moan.

your face was burning. you’d been together for a while now but you’d never get used to this. his words. his touch.

“my pretty girl. you’re reading one of those scenes aren’t you? think i didn’t notice you clenching your thighs? don’t know why you read ‘em when i’m right here.”

you were dripping. it only took a few words and touches from him to have you soaking through your underwear. you tucked your face into your arms. your book falling onto the floor with a little thump.

“so wet. this for me or your little book?” his fingers were teasing. dragging back and forth over the material separating you from him. the material thin. his fingertips catching on your entrance every so often.

“for y-you. always for you.” god he was barely even touching you and you were a panting mess. “please rafe.”

his fingers stopped. his warmth gone in an instant. your head popped up about to ask why he stopped before you felt a sharp sting on your ass.

“tsk tsk. what did i say about you calling me that? try again sweetheart.”

his hand was massaging you over where he slapped. the skin sure to have a pink mark.

“p-please daddy. teasing too much.” you were shocked when he first asked you to call him that. you didn’t realize you’d liked it until you were a moaning mess beneath him, the word slipping out like you’d said it thousands of times before.

“see? that wasn’t so hard baby was it.”

your thighs clenched with his words. his voice alone could make you wet. he knew how to talk in a way that had you melt against him.

“you want my fingers sweet girl? your body’s tellin me ya do. so wet f’me. i don’t know why you bother wearing these. ‘m just gonna take them off.”

sure enough you felt him pulling the fabric down your thighs. you flushed as you felt your wetness trailing down your leg. his fingers coming back up to rub you. trailing up and down your slit. his fingernails catching on your clit making you whine.

“daddy. please.”

you could feel his gaze on you. you’d imagine a smirk lining his lips. you could feel how hard he’d become beneath you. the sweatpants leaving little to the imagination. your hips trying to rub up against him.

“so needy. c’mon baby i wanna hear you say it.”

your face was flushed. you could feel sweat dripping down your neck. his fingers avoiding the one spot you needed him to touch.

“please. p-please fuck me with your fingers.”

his middle and pointer finger immediately dipped into you. you were so wet there wasn’t even any resistance.

“yes. yes. ohmygodplease.”

before you’d met him you’d tried touching yourself. but your fingers were too slim. too short to reach that one spot inside of you. rafe’s the first one to make you cum. his fingers thick and long enough that he barely has to try.

you hear him chuckle. his fingers dragging against your walls. in and out. in and out.

“god baby. you’re dripping down my fingers. feel good yeah? i can feel you gripping me. so fucking tight.”

he lets out a groan as your walls squeeze him. you’re so close. so fucking close. tears brim your eyes and you can’t help but buck against his fingers chasing that feeling. your stomachs tightening and you’re so close you slam your eyes shut. whining and moaning incoherent words. all you can feel is his rough fingers slamming inside you.

“god please i’m about to cum. please i-i need-“

“don’t worry baby. i know what you need.”

his thumb finds your clit. running tight and fast. you throw you head back.

“ohmyfuckinggod”

you feel that spot in your stomach snap. stars dance behind your eyelids as your body slumps on the couch.

you feel him move beneath you. he’s so hard beneath you it makes you whimper at the thought of how he feels inside you.

rafe’s hand, the one he wasn’t using, comes and and grabs your head. tilting your face to look at him.

“eyes on me baby. there she is.”

you’re blinking. your eyelids fighting the heaviness that weighs down your body. yet you feel your body clench as you watch him lick you off his fingers. his eyes never leaving yours.

you feel yourself dripping onto him. no doubt leaving a wet patch on his pants.

“so fucking sweet. here, taste yourself. lick my fingers clean.”

you weakly lean forward and take his fingers in your mouth. gagging slightly as he pushes them in farther.

“there you go. good girl, cleanin’ me up so well.”

um so hi. this is my first attempt at smut and omg what do you think.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe x you #outerbanks rafe #obx #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe fic

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daytaker · 1 year ago

Text

The Gang React to You Falling Asleep on Them

Lucifer

*deep sigh that speaks volumes to how difficult it is for this man to get any sleep, and here you are, conked out on his shoulder...*

If you don't wake up within a few minutes, he'll have no choice but to move. He is not the sort to be so sentimental that he can't bear the thought of disturbing your precious sleeping face. Of course, he won't be an asshole about it; he'll be careful and try not to wake you up. He might even drape his jacket over you for your nap.

But only if he doesn't need it.

Mammon

"Hey, my arm's gettin' a little stiff, can I just-- ...ah."

Oh. Ah. Alright. Cool. This is happening. Hmm. Damn. Not super comfortable, and it's kinda inconvenient to be trapped here, but, pshh, what's he supposed to do, wake up a sleeping human? He's heard that can lead to...cardiac arrest, or something. He ain't gonna murder you just to move a little sooner.

You did not just start snuggling him in your sleep. Did Mammon score today or did he score today? Too bad his arm's starting to fall asleep, but, well, nothin' in life is free.

Leviathan

"What...? WHAAAAAAT?" (But only in his brain. He doesn't want to wake you up. Mammon says that can lead to cardiac arrest in humans.)

He's pretty sure he's the one who's going to keel over from heart problems at this rate. He hadn't even realized you were getting sleepy. Are you bored watching him tackle this single-player old school RPG? Did you hate it all this time and you never even mentioned it?! Why is your face so close?! Do you not have any idea the kind of mental torture you're putting him through right now?!

Deep breaths, Levi. Deep breaths. This happens in anime all the time. It's...usually a good thing! It means that the main character and their love interest are tripping all the right flags, and... and how long is this scene going to last? Those scenes almost always end with the two still on the couch, then they skip to the next day or something. How long is he going to have to just sit here... suffering...?

After about ten minutes, he's reached his limit and he gently shakes you awake. He is so embarrassed that he insists you go to bed now, and he will not take no for an answer. Good night. Goodbye. *door slams*

AAAAHHHHHHHHH.

Satan

"Hm? Have you been getting enough sleep...?"

Satan would be very pleased with the situation, though probably less intensely excited than Mammon. He'll make whatever small adjustment is necessary for his comfort, then settle in and read for as long as it takes you to wake up. He feels very warm and fuzzy. It's nice. Hopefully you do this more often. But he should really ask you about your sleep schedule. Levi must be forcing you to stay awake too often.

Asmodeus

"Aww, aren't you adorable?"

This is precious. He needs to document it. As soon as he realizes what's happening, he'll carefully pull out his D.D.D., making sure not to wake you up, and start snapping pics. A few of you, a few dozen selfies with you, a few with him pretending to be asleep too, and then a perfect shot of him kissing your forehead. Grammable as fuck.

Er... is that drool he can see in one of those photos? ...You're going to have to wake up. You can't just drool on his brand-name jacket.

Beelzebub

"Oh."

He's used to people falling asleep on him, so this doesn't really throw him for much of a loop. However, he's a bit more careful of waking you up. He knows that if he wakes Belphie, he'll just fall back asleep within a few seconds, but you're not quite so adaptable. So he'll do his best to stay quiet and not move much.

But no matter how hard he tries, he's never going to be able to turn off his stomach. You'll probably wake up with a start as his stomach roars at you about twenty inches from your face.

Belphegor

"...zzzz..."

Who are we kidding, we all know he was asleep first. Probably, he's the reason you fell asleep so easily. He's soft and warm, perfect for drifting off to dreamland...

Diavolo

"Very bold! You really are astonishingly brave."

It's not every day someone has the stones to fall asleep in his presence, let alone fall asleep and use him as some sort of glorified pillow. What a nice change of pace.

He'll continue doing whatever it is he was doing before, but he is a busy demon, running the Devildom and all. He'll slowly and carefully extricate himself when it's time to move, then have Barbatos bring you a blanket and prepare some tea for when you wake up.

Barbatos

"Humans are awfully needy creatures, aren't they."

He can't help but chuckle. You just pass out during the middle of the day? Then again, it's possible you're probably not entirely well. He'll have to disturb the young master to ask what sort of accommodations to make for you. Of course, he's sure Diavolo won't mind. But it's irresponsible to let yourself drift off like this in the castle of the king of the demons, isn't it? This isn't a resort.

Sleep well, human.

Solomon

"You're just looking cute on purpose now, aren't you?"

Oh well! Looks like he's stuck here for now. Too bad. He'll smile, put an arm around you, kick his feet up, and settle in for the long haul. Hopefully you're able to get a good, solid nap in.

Most likely, you both will. He'll pass out too within ten minutes, give or take.

Simeon

"Oh- shh. There, there."

Well, if you aren't adorable... You must be so tired. He's glad you feel so at ease with him that you let yourself fall asleep, and you certainly look cute, but he's also a little concerned that you're this tired. He'll patiently wait for you to wake up. Then he'll make you some tea and gently remind you to take better care of your health.

Luke

"Eh...?! Hey! ...WAKE UP!"

How tired are you?! You need to get better sleep! Sheesh, you need to be more careful too. You almost crushed him.

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jamespotterismydaddy · 1 year ago

Text

When Nobody's Around

luke castellan x reader

capture the flag pt 2!

A/N: not me keeping my promises and posting three days in a row

TW: so much smut omg, throat-fucking, pussy slapping, cockwarming, overstim

word count: 1,225 words

After what happened with Luke the other day, you need to do something to cool off, to get your mind off of it. Training is the perfect thing. You make your way down to the grounds with Clarisse. Your half-sister is the perfect person to train with because she fights so hard that it gives you no chance to think.

“Fuck.” You murmur. You’re already there when you realize you forgot something. “I have to go back for my sneakers.”

“Don’t take too long, dumbass.” She smirks and you roll your eyes before jogging back to your cabin. It’s so weird because you could’ve sworn on your life that you had brought them.

You shake off the feeling and open the cabin door. There shouldn’t be anyone inside, all your siblings are training and whatnot. There shouldn’t be anyone in there, especially not Luke Castellan who is sitting on your bed, holding your sneakers.

What. The. Fuck.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He states, giving you an easygoing grin.

“Get out of my cabin.”

“No.”

“Not only are you not meant to be in here, I also don’t want you here.” Your voice is angry as you walk towards him.

“I think you do.”

You scoff. “Stop acting like you know me.”

He gives you a sly smile. “But I do know you… very intimately.”

“If you’re here for another hookup, it’s not going to happen.” You say adamantly.

He stands up, walking towards you. You hate the way he towers over your smaller body. “I’m actually here to apologize.”

“Apologize?” You ask doubtingly, not really thinking he was the type.

“Yeah.” His hands fall to your waist. You don’t shove him off right away, waiting to see where this all goes. “I was very rough with you before.” His hand slides up to hold your chin, thumbing your lip. “Maybe I wanted to be more gentle this time? Get down on my knees and eat you nice and slow.”

“I can’t stand you.” You breathe out as his hand ghosts down, rubbing over your breast.

“You’re such a damn brat.” He gives you a squeeze. “I thought I fucked that out of you last time but apparently not.”

You want to come up with some clever retort but all you can do is whimper in response.

“Now, how about you get on your knees and if you suck me well enough maybe, just maybe, i’ll get you off.”

You drop to your knees. You hate to admit it but you like the way he talks to you. No other guy has enough confidence to try and put you in your place.

“What a submissive little slut.” He coos as he grips your hair with one hand.

“I’ll bite your cock off.” You say as you unzip his jeans, tugging them down.

“We both know that would be more of a loss for you than me.” He chuckles at how your eyes widen when he pulls his dick out. He may have been inside of you but you never actually saw how big he is. “Suck it.”

You glare but take him in your mouth as far back as you can. You gag when the tip of him touches the back of your throat.

“That’s right, baby. Choke on my cock.” He murmurs as he begins to thrust into your mouth languidly. Your eyes water as you try to suck him off but it’s more like being throat-fucked instead with the way he grips your hair to pull your head back and forth. He gives a little slap to your cheek. “No teeth.” He warns as he continues to use your mouth like he pleases.

You’re surprised when he pulls out before finishing. “You can swallow my cum another time. I plan on keeping my promises.”

When you’re on your feet, Luke pulls you into a kiss. He taps your ass once so you jump, letting him hold you as he walks you back to your bed. He parts his lips from yours, placing you down so you sit on the edge of your bed.

“It’s your turn to get on your knees.” You say cheekily.

“Don’t go acting like you’re in charge.” He says but kneels anyhow. “I’m not opposed to giving that ass a few more smacks.” You shift a bit at the comment as he pulls off your pants. “Oh, maybe you’d like that.”

“I wouldn’t.” You lie as he yanks down your panties, revealing how wet you are.

“No?” He asks, amused before laying a harsh smack to your cunt. You drip out more arousal. “Liar.” He murmurs before digging in.

His hands hold tight to your thighs as he buries his face in your cunt. It’s stimulating too much and just the right amount all at once. You begin to whine and try to squirm away but he keeps you firmly in place with his strong hands as he laps up your arousal.

“Better than fucking ambrosia.” He looks up, grinning like a devil before nipping at your clit. Your hand is in his hair now, pulling tightly as you’re so close… so close and then… he stops.

“Luuuke…” You whine in frustration.

“Sorry, baby but you’re gonna cum around my cock.”

He picks you up like you weigh nothing and throws you back further on the bed before shifting his body between your legs. He uses his dick to tease your clit and you whimper.

“Please, Luke.” You beg, looking at him with doe eyes.

“Look at you, so pretty as you beg to be fucked. I’ll give you what you want.” His words are so lewd but his voice is so gentle.

He slips himself inside of you in one go, once again not caring about you adjusting. Though, he exercises a bit more restraint this time, not moving quite yet. He at least wants you to be able to walk somewhat well after this. He leans down to kiss your neck, leaving love bites that you'll have to explain later before he actually starts to give you what you need. He begins to thrust, trying to avoid acting like a rabid dog even if he knows you like it.

“You’re so fucking tight. Never had such a tiny little pussy before.” The way you squeeze around him has him throwing all decorum out the window. He begins to fuck into you like this is the last chance he’ll get.

“Mmm Luke, harder.” You beg.

“Fucking slut.” He says with a grin before slinging your leg over his shoulder so he can piston into you deeper.

“Want you… to cum… inside.” The words have him going feral. He uses his thumb to rub your clit, making you spasm under him.

“Is that all it takes? Barely even had to touch your sweet pearl.” You cream around his cock and he fucks you through it. The overstimulation has you seeing stars but after a few moments, his thrusts finally begin to slow. He stills and you feel his hot cum spurt into you, filling you to the brim until it spills out.

He slumps down on you, pressing tired kisses to your collarbone as he lets you cockwarm him.

“Want me to go?” He asks.

It should be an easy answer. You should say yes.

“No… stay.”

And he smiles.

taglists (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi

Luke Castellan: @amortencjja @urmomsbananabread

#luke castellan #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson fic

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freelancearsonist · 6 months ago

Text

every breath you take

➔ (no outbreak) Joel Miller x f!Reader

➔ 5.3k words

➔ Your dad is getting married to his soulmate and you have every intention of making it the perfect day. The only kink in your plan is your unexpected feelings for your soon-to-be stepdad’s best man.

➔ Rated MA // BILL X FRANK SUPREMACY. LONG LIVE BILL X FRANK. no outbreak, age gap (reader is early 20s, Joel is 45), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, fingering (reader receiving), references to masturbation (reader), pussy pronouns, pet names // reader has female anatomy (no body description but is generally able-bodied) and uses feminine pronouns, is Frank’s adopted daughter (written for all skin tones), wears makeup and a dress, has hair (unspecified length)

➔ Big big thank you to @sugarcoated-lame and @sunlightmurdock for this idea and letting me run with it (sorry it took 5 months 😂) this is psuedo-inspired by my own current activities as my best friend's moh which is why i haven't been super active in the past month or so, thank you to everyone for being so patient with me <33

June, 2013.

After months of planning—stress, sweat, and tears abounding—the big night is here. Well, almost here. The actual wedding is tomorrow, but tonight is the rehearsal dinner; and as your adoptive dad has spent the entire preparatory period impressing upon you, the rehearsal might be even more important than the wedding itself.

With that in mind, you arrive at the venue a few hours early to assist with the set up. Seeing the unassembled pieces and parts of the event brings a smile to your face and a determination to your soul–you want this to be perfect.

Someone else shares your determination, too.

You would’ve sworn, when you first met him, that an elaborate wedding would be the very last thing Bill would want. And yet this has been as much his planning as it has been your dad’s. It brings so much joy to your heart that your dad has found someone who matches him so completely. You couldn’t be happier for them; and at the same time, you couldn’t be more frustrated for yourself. Because, as dedicated as you are to making this day perfect for them, Bill’s best man and long-time friend is maybe even more dedicated. He’s been turning this wedding into a ‘friendly’ competition between the two of you, trying to one-up you at every opportunity he gets. It’s infuriating—especially when he wears that smug grin that’s become his signature expression around you. It’s torture, too, because all you want to do is kiss that stupid smirk right off his handsome face.

It’s unintentional on his part, you’re sure, but the tension is palpable enough to slice with a butter knife nonetheless. Today is no exception—he’s dressed for labor in worn jeans that are just a little too tight around his thighs and a faded Iron Maiden shirt that hugs his strong biceps. His hair is ruffled like he’s been tugging and running his hands through it, and it puts all kinds of indecent thoughts into your brain.

It’s wrong. The guy’s old enough to be your dad, and that’s aside from the fact that he’s your soon-to-be-stepdad’s best man. No self-respecting young woman should be looking at a guy who’s old enough to remember the Nixon administration the way you are right now. And yet…

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he says in that drawl of his which makes you want to throw your sanity out the window and fall at his feet to worship the very ground he walks on.

You’ve never hated Joel Miller more than you do right now.

Regardless, you greet him with the sweetest smile you can muster. “Good morning. I didn’t know you’d be here this early.”

“Well, rehearsal’s as important as the weddin’ itself,” he dutifully repeats the line that you’ve heard from your dad a million times over. “And this barn ain’t gonna decorate itself.”

“Well, that’s kinda my job,” you remind him, hoping your tone sounds more annoyed to him than it does to you.

He flashes that boyish smile that no middle-aged man should be able to master, and it makes your heart skip a beat. “Can’t let you have all the fun, can I?”

You want to grumble about it. You want to be annoyed by this goofy-ass forty-five year old man and his stupid competitive streak. Instead, your mouth betrays you by smiling. “I appreciate the help.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” He punctuates it with a wink, and you consider just falling onto the ground and perishing. Instead, you roll up your shirt sleeves and get to work.

The fruits of your labor are well worth the effort they take. You feel a heady sense of pride when you look around at all the decor–as long as this barn has been a wedding venue, you’re certain no one’s ever made it look this good before.

The tables are arranged neatly in rows, draped with luxurious white tablecloths and topped with neat arrangements of greenery in the centers. The seating chart that Bill and Frank worked so meticulously on is put into effect with hand-written placards designating each chair to an occupant. Strings of white globe lights hang from the rafters and cast a hazy, reverent glow over the entire barn. Everything is the perfect mix of modern and rustic.

Outside on the lawn, rows of neatly arranged chairs line a petal-scattered aisle. Everything leads to the focal point–an eight-foot high arch wrapped generously in green vines and white blossoms. It’s definitely the highlight of the entire thing, which irks you just the slightest bit–it was solely Joel’s vision. Apparently, he’s a lot more artistic than you’ve ever given him credit for. It tracks, you suppose; construction is an artform if you really think about it. He uses his hands to create just like a sculptor, but to a larger scale. And those hands are capable; you’ve seen exactly how much they can move or carry and you wonder if they could–

You shake off that train of thought before it can go any further. If you can’t get yourself under control you’re going to start wearing a rubberband on your wrist that you can snap every time your thoughts about Joel stray into the ‘things you shouldn’t be thinking about a middle-aged man’ category.

He certainly has aged like fine wine for a forty-five-year-old man, though…

Snap.

With a sigh, you give your head a shake in hopes of clearing your mind and take a look down at your watch. You’ve finished with perfect timing–you’ve got about two hours to go home and get cleaned up before you have to be back for the rehearsal dinner.

You look for Joel for a few moments before leaving, but he’s nowhere to be found. It puzzles you a little bit that he wouldn’t at least say goodbye before leaving, but then again he really doesn’t have to answer to you. It’s a well-needed wake up call, a reminder that your feelings–can whatever you’re going through really be called that?–your attraction, is one-sided. He’s here for Bill and Frank, not for you. You’re his best friend’s daughter and nothing more, and the realization washes over you like a bucket of ice water.

You hate the way it sends you spiraling on the drive home. You hate the way you care so much about what he might think of you. You hate the way that you have to look at yourself in the mirror and give yourself a stern talking-to about needing to let this whole stupid crush go. You hate the way that you can’t even pretend the extra layer of mascara you apply isn’t for him.

You avoid Joel the entire night, which isn’t easy to do. You have to walk down the aisle next to him during the ceremony rehearsal but you avoid his eye contact, taking a twisted little satisfaction in the way he frowns when all of your replies to his chit chat are short and clipped. Dinner is easier–both Frank and Bill sit between you and Joel, so there’s no attempted conversation to deflect from him. But you could almost swear you feel his eyes on you, as if he’s looking right through your dad and soon-to-be-stepdad.

Joel is puzzled, to put it simply. One second, he’s got you in the palm of his hand. Then a moment later, you’re looking at him like you might look at a bug you stepped on and got stuck to your shoe.

He puts it out of mind as much as he can. He’s not supposed to be looking at you like that, after all. He’s not supposed to be admiring the perfectly kissable curve of your shoulder or the biteable expanse of your neck. He’s definitely not supposed to be wondering what you’re wearing under that adorable dress of yours. You’re his best friend’s daughter, for god’s sake. You’re so far off limits that he shouldn’t even be looking in your general direction.

But he is. He’s looking, and he can’t stop looking. And most of all, he can’t stop wondering if you feel it too.

Evidently you don’t, because you won’t even take his arm as you practice walking up the aisle in preparation for the big day tomorrow. You’ve probably figured out how much he’s been thinking about you and the kinds of things he’s been thinking, and you’re disgusted. He’s just a dirty old man to you, surely.

Little does Joel know that you come on your fingers moaning his name practically as soon as you’re through the door of your hotel room that night. You fall asleep before you can feel too ashamed about it–blissfully unaware that Joel’s doing the same exact thing just a few doors down.

You wake up in the morning with much more clarity than you usually have, especially at 9AM.

No matter what, today is about Bill and Frank. You get to be part of a true love story, the kind that your dad used to read about to you in bedtime stories when you were a little girl. That knowledge steadies your mind more than anything else ever could.

You jump into the shower and try your best to tame your unruly hair before shuffling down to the dining area on the ground floor of the hotel.

Bill and Frank really spared no expense on this place. All the food is fresh and hot, replenished every few minutes. It smells incredible–there’s overlapping waves of pastries, sausages, eggs, and fruits. It’s almost overwhelming; there’s way too many options.

After you pile up a plate with as much as your stomach can comfortably handle, you make your way over to the table your father occupies by himself.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” he says through a mouthful of cantaloupe.

“Decided to sleep in a little,” you explain. “Where’s Bill?”

“He already had breakfast, he’s getting ready,” Frank explains. “Joel made out a whole schedule for us, put us on different shifts so we don’t see each other before the wedding. It’s bad luck, after all.”

You snort through a bite of biscuits and gravy, because that’s such a characteristically Joel thing to do. From what you know of him, he thrives with routine and function–you’re surprised he doesn’t have you working off of a schedule, too.

A small, annoying part of your brain thinks it’s really adorable that Joel plays into that whole superstition. Another, more sensible part tells you that nothing Joel does is adorable and you’ve really got to stop thinking about him so much.

“How’re you feeling?” You ask, looking up at your dad through a bite of blueberry muffin.

“Relieved, honestly,” he admits with a chuckle and a twinkle in his eye. “I finally get to marry my best friend today, with my other best friend by my side.”

You hide the way the comment makes you choke up behind another bite of your breakfast.

There have been a lot of times where you’ve gone unwanted in your life; starting right at birth, continuing with unrequited crushes and lost friendships. But one person has always wanted you and been there for you through thick and thin. Frank picks you up every time no matter how hard you fall, and you feel so unbelievably lucky to be in his life.

If anyone deserves a fairytale ending, it’s Frank. He always puts the people he cares about first, and now it’s his turn to shine. You’re not letting anything get in the way of that–especially not stupid, unrequited feelings for the best man.

With a little more resolve in your mind, it’s easier to get ready for the main event.

Every step of your preparation has been immaculately planned over the course of months. From your dress to your make-up, to your hair, not one detail has been overlooked. It takes you more than an hour to get ready–but when you’re ready, you’re a vision. Even though you’re not normally the type to enjoy looking into the mirror, you have to admit to yourself that you look stunning.

Your traitorous brain wonders if Joel will think the same.

With a heavy sigh, you grab your bag and your car keys. You really wish you had a way to shut those intruding little wishful thoughts off–they’re doing more harm than good at this point.

You take a deep breath, shove as much as you can down, and resolve to have a good time celebrating your dads–then you open the door and set out towards an unforgettable night.

Whatever kind of shock and awe you were hoping to inspire in Joel, it’s surely nothing compared to the rush you feel as you find him in the bridal party lounge.

You’ve never seen him quite so put together. He’s normally a bit undone–a symptom of being a long-time bachelor–but today, he’s perfectly styled. The hair he’s been growing out is slicked back into gorgeous curls, his black tuxedo pants hug his hips like a dream. He’s in the process of fastening the last two buttons on his impeccable white dress shirt and every bone in your body screams to stop him–to keep that peek of his tanned chest on display for your hungry eyes.

You have a fearful moment of thinking you actually made the request aloud, because he does stop in his tracks when his eyes land on you. His lips part in shock and his pupils dilate and he freezes. Fingers that were once absentmindedly completing their task drop to his sides as he murmurs something that sounds suspiciously like “wow.”

“Need help?” You offer before you can think better of it.

There’s a long moment of tense silence, and then he nods silently.

Your mouth is dry as you approach him, trying desperately to keep your cool. Your clammy palms are definitely not the most qualified to complete this task for him, but you can’t back down now. With a deep breath–you’re so close now that it fills your nose with the spicy, intoxicating scent of his cologne–you will your hands to stay steady and reach for his shirt buttons.

His lead tongue finally remembers how to work as you fasten the first button. “You look… incredible.”

“So do you,” you whisper. Just when you think you’re out of the woods, ready to step back and breathe properly again, his hand comes up to offer you a bow tie.

“This too?” His warm brown eyes search yours–how could he ever expect you to say no?

“Y-yeah. Sure.” You turn the collar of his shirt up, then carefully fasten the tie around his neck. The band is perfectly configured to his neck, the bow already tied–all you have to do is secure a hook through a loop. He could’ve easily done this himself; and yet he didn’t. He wanted you to do this, and that particular bit of knowledge sends a rush of heat burning through your veins.

Maybe this whole song and dance isn’t quite as unrequited as you originally thought.

Your fingers brush his warm skin as you smooth his shirt collar back down over the band of the tie and it’s like an electric shock that shoots through every inch of your body. You’ve stuck a fork in an outlet and you want to do it again.

You’re done with your task, yet you can’t bring yourself to step away. He doesn’t either–for seconds that feel like hours, you look into those dark eyes and feel his breath against your face and you finally have the courage to do something about it. You’re going to kiss him, just lean in a little further and–

The sound of the lounge door opening makes your body jolt with the force of an actual fork in an outlet.

“There you are!” Frank’s got an untamable smile on his face–his hair is impeccably gelled back, his white tuxedo tailored to fit like a glove. The sight of him, so close to everything he’s ever wanted, brings tears to your eyes. “Wow, you two look amazing.”

“Hey. Thanks.” You’re fighting with all your strength to keep your voice even and calm despite the compliment. The reality of your father’s happily ever after comes crashing in and you’ve never felt so proud. “First look time?”

“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. “Is Bill–?”

“Dressin’,” Joel answers after clearing his throat. “I’ll bring ’im out when he’s done.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Frank takes your hand to lead you outside, but not before you look over your shoulder at Joel. He looks thoroughly disheveled despite his sharp appearance–you’ve gotten under his skin. Good.

Thank god for waterproof make-up because you nearly lose your whole face during the first look. Not that you’re wearing much, but it’s enough that it’s jeopardized by the tears your treacherous eyes shed despite trying in vain to will them away.

You’ve never been so happy for two people before. You’ve never seen two people more in love. In their matching white tuxes, with their matching watery eyes, as they turn to greet each other for the first time today, you know that Bill and Frank are a forever thing. It brings you a sense of peace that you never knew was possible.

At some point, you become conscious of the fact that you’re holding Joel’s hand. You know you probably shouldn’t, that you could get both of you in serious trouble–but he’s not pulling away, so neither do you.

The true test of your mascara comes during the ceremony–it passes the test with flying colors, which is truly impressive considering the tsunami it has to hold up against. You’ve never really been a wedding cryer, although you suppose no one would blame you for this one. You’re hardly the only person walking away with tissues to their eyes. Bill and Frank have loved so hard and fought for so long in order to obtain this day–it’s nothing short of incredible to see them finally seal their union with vows.

Before the reception, you pop into the bridal lounge to make sure you’re still presentable. A couple tissues later and you’re good to go, but the sound of the door opening and the lock clicking into place stops you in your tracks.

Joel’s standing there, looking like a dream. Curls slightly disheveled from the wind, top two buttons of his shirt undone with his bowtie hanging out of his jacket pocket. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, albeit not as bad as yours.

His breath seems to catch when he sees you–he clears his throat before whispering, “Hey.”

For a long moment, your tongue is too heavy to speak. Every ounce of desire from earlier comes rushing back in a flash flood of emotion. It’s just you and him and tension so palpable you could grab ahold of it.

“H-hey,” you breathe. Earlier, you were ready to do something drastic. Now, all the familiar doubts come crashing back in. Are all these feelings one-sided? Were you just seeing what you wanted to see? The feeling of his hand in yours is burned into your palm. Does he feel it too?

“I think it went pretty well,” he hums. His hands are tucked into his pockets, thumbs twitching unconsciously as if he’s nervous.

“It was perfect,” you agree.

For a moment that seems to last a lifetime, you both stand toeing the line. It’s right there, unseen but waiting to be crossed. You don’t know if either of you have the courage it takes to step over it.

And then he moves; he breaks the tenuous balance of platonic and something more by closing the distance between you.

“You really do look amazin’,” he breathes, hands clenching indecisively at his sides. “I mean, you always do, but–”

You grab him before he can finish his sentence. ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ is blaring on the outdoor speakers as your lips finally meet his. It’s been weeks, maybe even months, of dreaming about this moment. It’s better than you ever could’ve imagined.

The world fades away as his breath becomes yours. There’s nothing but the feeling of his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip and his hands gripping your waist and his curls tickling your forehead. Nothing but the sound of his deep groan and the desperate thrum of his heartbeat underneath your palm as it slides up his chest. Nothing but finally feeling complete.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, but he doesn’t dare pull away. His steps sound like cannonfire as he backs you up against the wall, a march towards something deliciously irreversible as his tight grip on your waist bunches the fabric of your dress up. Nothing has ever felt as right as his entire body surrounding and swallowing you this way.

“I want to,” you breathe against his lips. “Do you?”

“God, yes.”

Your arms come up to wrap around his neck and tug him closer, desperately wanting every inch of his body pressed up against you. Just as he’s starting to pull the skirt of your dress up, the song outside changes to ‘Don’t Stand So Close to Me’, strangely apt but also a reminder that you don’t have time. You made this playlist yourself–you know that there’s only three more songs after this one before you’re supposed to be ready for the bridal party entrance to the reception.

“Joel…” you moan out. “Joel, we have to be quick.”

“How quick?” He questions between searing kisses down the length of your neck.

“Ten minutes at the very most.”

“Shit,” he grumbles. He doesn’t pull away though–if anything, he pushes you back harder against the wall. “You still wanna do this?”

As much as you want to say yes, as much as you want to say fuck the reception, you can’t do that to Frank and Bill. “You think ten minutes is enough time?”

“If I can’t make you come in ten minutes I’ll eat my own fist.”

It makes you shiver in conjunction with the way his hand slides feather-light up your thigh.

Even the ghosting touch of his calloused fingertips on your sensitive skin has you aching for more. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna drive me crazy.”

The cocky bastard has the audacity to actually wink at you. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You drag his lips back to yours with a renewed sense of desperation, relishing the gentle scratch of his trimmed beard against your chin and under your palms. “It’s definitely working.”

“Good.”

You know this is territory that you probably shouldn’t be crossing into, not when he’s twenty years older than you and he’s your new step-dad's best friend, but you can’t be brought to care when those deliciously rough fingertips are slipping under the hem of your panties.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he grumbles against your lips. “She’s soakin’ for me.”

“A-always is,” you gasp out.

His fingers sweep through your folds, gathering as much slick as he can to swirl around your sensitive clit. He smirks at the way your hands tighten on him even at the lightest of touches.

“That how you like it, sweetheart? Nice and gentle?” He presses a little firmer and a grin spreads over his face at the gasp you let out. “Oh, that’s it.”

“Joel, please…” Your hands move to his arms, squeezing tighter than you probably should but you can’t help it when he’s touching you like this. It’s exactly what you need and he knows it–he watches your face for every little indication that he’s doing a good job.

“Please what?” He purrs quietly. “What do you need?”

You could go on like this for hours, you’re sure–and you’re sure he’d be more than willing. You could stay here in his arms forever and let him work you over until there’s nothing left in your head but his name.

The song outside changes again, and you know forever will have to wait.

“Fuck me,” you plead. “Need you.”

“It’s gonna be tight, sweetheart.” You’d think he was being overly confident if you couldn’t feel the size of the bulge pressing against your thigh.

“That’s okay. Please.”

“Alright, sweetheart.” In a flash he’s got his belt undone and your greedy hands are more than happy to assist in shoving those perfectly pressed pants down his sturdy thighs.

You can’t help the gasp that bubbles out with the sight of him. He’s big. There’s no debate. The flushed tip of him is peeking through mouth-watering foreskin, red and flushed as if angry it’s not inside you already. You’re devastated you don’t have time to take that thick length into your mouth, to make him shudder and shake until he’s begging to fill you.

Later, you remind yourself.

“Still sure about this?” He asks, tone no longer brimming with the urgency and arrogance from just a few moments prior. He searches your eyes intimately for any hint of hesitation–the last thing he wants to do is to push you.

You’ve never wanted anyone more.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

“Easy, honey. I’ve gotcha.” The hand between your thighs moves to coat him in your slick–for a moment, you’re mesmerized at the sight of his big hand working over his cock. “Gotta tell me if anythin’ doesn’t feel good, ‘kay?”

“I will, I swear, just please–”

The rest of your sentence gets lost in a breathless moan with the first gentle thrust of his hips. Even just the tip is a stretch–one that has your nails digging into his shirt-clad back and your thighs tightening around his waist.

“Shit, sweetie,” he purrs, voice liquid gold. “Gotta relax, gotta lemme in–”

You manage to loosen your thighs a little and it gives him the space he needs to press all the way in to the hilt–the feeling of him filling you completely is nothing but breathtaking. A broken groan tumbles from his lips–you can feel the way his breath hitches from how his forehead is pressed against yours. It’s nothing short of heady, to know that you have such a profound effect on a man you thought might be immune to you.

“Good?” He questions in a whisper. One of his hands is hooked under your left knee to keep your leg up around his waist; the other strokes absentminded patterns over your right hip, as if unconsciously soothing you.

You give him a shaky nod in response. “Good.”

The pace he sets is the most delicious kind of torture. You both know you’re in a time crunch, so Joel is more than happy to employ the most toe-curlingly relentless speed. Every slick thrust of his cock makes your eyes flutter–little breathy moans escape your lips with fervor as he pounds deep. He's hitting every single spot all at once and then some. All the while his lips trace around your neck and jaw, careful not to leave marks but whining quietly as if he’s tempted. As if he wants nothing more than to claim you in a way that everyone can see.

You moan out his name and the hand on your waist comes to help, settling between your bodies and finding that perfect rhythm from before. You’re finding out that he’s a very intuitive and quick learner–you would certainly praise him for it if you could find the breath to do so.

The way his hips work–driving him deeper than anyone’s ever been; the way his fingers swirl–bringing you to the brink in mere minutes with the most thigh-shaking friction; the way his mouth works, sucking just light enough on the sweet spot behind your ear so as not to leave a mark… it all builds and builds and builds, leaving you breathless and trembling and teetering on the edge of pure oblivion.

“Y’feel like fuckin’ heaven,” he gasps out against your cheek. “Never gonna get enough.”

The words alone send white-hot pleasure shooting down your spine–you’ve wanted him so badly for so long, and now you know he’s wanted you too. It feels even better with that satisfaction, with the fact of winning the prize you’ve been coveting so deeply.

“Joel…” You want to tell him the million thoughts that are rushing through your head, but your lungs aren’t cooperating.

“I know baby,” he murmurs with a particularly devastating thrust. “I know. S’okay.”

It’s too much and simultaneously not enough. You dig your nails into his shirt to tug him closer, a silent plea to get him working against that spot again. He complies without words, hitching your leg a little higher around his waist and angling his hips in a way that makes you cry out his name again.

“I’m gonna–”

“Yeah, go ‘head,” he purrs breathlessly. “Lemme feel it, come all over my cock.”

His fingers press a little firmer against your clit and that’s all you need for the knot in your stomach to unravel with blinding force. It travels through every nerve like some delicious form of spontaneous combustion, making your body shiver with the energy of it. It’s the best you’ve ever felt–you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of it, either.

“That’s it honey, holy shit…” He murmurs before finally meeting your lips again for a breathless and panting kiss. “W-where?”

For a moment, you have no clue what he could possibly be talking about. His thrusts are losing rhythm with each moment, as if he’s about to–

“Inside,” you whine out after your moment of clarity. “Please–”

“Shit,” he spits even as he drives himself impossibly deeper. “Y’sure?”

You’re not even conscious of nodding your head–all you know is that you need him completely. “It’s safe. Promise.”

“Atta girl,” he whispers. “Gonna leave you fuckin’ drippin’, won’t be able to stop feelin’ it all night–”

His head tips back as the first wave crashes over him, eyes squeezed shut and mouth dropped open as his hips grind into yours. There’s nothing short of pure ecstasy on his face with the first few ropes of cum that fill you. You’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as the pleasure washing over this gorgeous man’s gorgeous face. Knowing that you’re the cause of all this nearly sends you over the edge all over again.

He grunts as he shoves himself a little deeper, eager to feel every inch of you as he unwinds. “Christ, honey… squeezin’ me so goddamn tight.”

“Not my fault you’re huge.”

He chuckles at that, staying seated deep within your walls for a moment longer so he can kiss you again. It’s lost its edge of desperation, but it makes up for it with an overwhelming note of sweetness. His hand cups your jaw to guide the angle and once again you’re struck by that overwhelming sense of rightness. It’s like you were meant to be here, meant to take everything he gives you and more, meant to love him.

The song outside changes to ‘Every Breath You Take’, the song before the entrance song, and you spring to action.

“Shit, Joel, we’ve got to go.”

He pulls out with an overdramatic groan, as if it hurts him to be separated now that he knows what it feels like to be joined. You can feel the drip start even before his hand comes to fix your panties, but there’s hardly enough time to worry about that.

“How’s my make-up?”

“Perfect, darlin’. Not a thing outta place.”

“Thank god for waterproof,” you chuckle as you straighten your dress.

His dark eyes meet yours as your hands smooth out his rumpled shirt–there’s still so much swirling behind them, so much promise of things to come.

“We’ve gotta go,” you repeat when he halts by the door.

“Just a sec,” he murmurs. And then he pulls you in for one final, saccharine sweet kiss. “Come to my room w’me tonight.”

“Okay,” you promise–you’re surprised you can keep your voice even when just the question makes your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you.” It’s genuine, earnest. It makes your heart skip another beat.

He takes your hand before unlocking and opening the door, and he doesn’t let it go until he absolutely has to.

➔ beta: @schnarfer and @futuraa-free thank you my darlings <3 ; dividers: @saradika-graphics

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :) any feedback or comment is always greatly appreciated!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel tlou #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us smut

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princesssmars · 7 months ago

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you sometimes forget how… slightly obsessive, violet could be. nsfw.

when you were younger you had a love hate relationship with her tendency to become so completely fixated on something. staying up for hours at night thinking about their next score, holding a grudge for years against anyone who got piss drunk and pissed off vander in the bar, planning and fidgeting over the perfect way to ask you out for weeks before you finally took the step yourself.

even if it got her into danger, got her and her siblings into a temporary struggle that made your heart stall with the thought of nearly losing them, you always reminded her that you thought her fixation on things was cute, and a useful tool about half of the time.

(you even said that the trait reminded you of powder, always blabbering to you for as long as she could talk about her new ideas for gadgets and bombs. the girl was overjoyed in sharing something in common with her big sister, immediately climbing on her back to ramble about something new.)

but then you actually you lost her. you lost all of them. and you wished you had told her that that insecurity she had, all the insecurities she had, were stupid and inconsequential to how perfect you thought she was.

but maybe you’ll get the chance to tell her (and tell jinx that yeah, you were right, i did start seeing ghosts too) because a scarily realistic replica of your ex is standing in front of you and before you can shoo it away she’s hugging you so tight you think your ribs will break.

you follow as ekko gives her the tour of the firelights base, admiring each and every way she’s changed. she’s taller, obviously stronger, wearing a prison uniform that you don’t if you’re allowed to say looks good on her and a red jacket she stole from some guy because of course she did. you stifle a laugh as she tells the story and she smiles at you, indiscreetly wrapping your hand in hers.

it’s obvious by the look on his face ekko is so going to tease you about this later, but you don’t get a chance to care when she turns to you and ask where she and her enforcer friend can sleep. and janna knows you want to offer for her to sleep with you, but it’s been years and you don’t want to make her uncomfortable so you lead her and caitlyn to the newbie dorms.

but it seems like you’ve forgotten just how damn stubborn she is, because not even half an hour later a loud banging at your draws you from your bed, her flushed and nervous face shocking you into silence.

she asks to come in, but with her it’s always more like a demand then a question. you try to ignore the burning feeling of her eyes trained on you as you lead her to your bed, rolling your eyes as she aggressively flops back onto it.

“holy fuck, i haven’t been on something this soft in years. i think i’m gonna fall asleep right now.”

“i wouldn’t be mad if you did.” well, you’d be a little upset. you have so much to talk to her about everything, anything that’s happened since she disappeared. granted a lot of it was bad but there were still a few things you think would cheer her up. she’d already told you enthusiastic she was to eat jerichos again, just wait till she found out that-

you must of zoned out for a minute because you’re shocked back to reality by soft lips pressed to yours, vi’s bandaged hand cupping your cheek like you’ll fade into dust if she lets go. you mentally kick yourself in the head for not responding quicker when she pulls away and looks at you with that sad puppy look she gets.

“i, i’m sorry. it’s just, you were staring at me for a while! and it’s been so long since i’ve seen you and i don’t even know what we are or if we’re still girlfriends but you’re even more beautiful than the last time i saw you-“

you cup both of her cheeks in your hands,(maybe a little too hard) give her a second to back away if she wants, and pull her back in. her arms wrap around your waist and she lets out a whimper when your hand travels to the back of her neck to pull her closer and closer-

and now it’s around one hour? maybe two? it’s a while later, and as her hand travels back into you for the fourth time, yeah, you’re starting to remember how obsessive she could be.

“vi, baby - oh my gods, y’know you can slow down!” your voice pitches when her fingers, her beautiful long and big fingers push up against that spot inside you, her other hand keeping your hips down when you involuntarily raise them off the sheets.

“don’t think i can, princess.” she groans into your breast as she sucks another path of bruises down your chest, slate eyes amused at how your hands grip the bed like it stole from you, how your mouth opens so cutely before you bite your lips to hold back your sounds.

her mouth finally closes around your clit and the increased sensitivity from your past orgasms combined with the almost growling sound she makes when she tastes you sends you right over the edge, thighs clamping around her head as she carries you through it.

the rubbing of her rough hands over your thighs and her gentle words of praise merry drag you into the beginnings of a soft slumber.

until you can feel the damn brute lift your legs onto her shoulders and stick her tongue inside you, laughing at your shocked squeal and resumed grip on her hair.

“besides, we’ve gotta make up for lost time, don’t we?”

writing a drabble based on the fic you’re writing instead of finish the fic i’m such a genius like 😍😍 glad her tag is coming back but i want content coming out like a factory line ok everyone get to work 🙏🏽

#arcane #arcane x reader #vi #vi arcane #vi x reader #vi smut #vi x reader smut

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bbydoll18xx · 7 months ago

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She's Such a Good Girl

You move in across the hall from Paige Bueckers. It doesn’t take long before she tries to shatter your innocent persona. And you just let her.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Themes: reader is a shy lil baby, a few inappropriate thoughts, paige being a huge flirt

Masterlist

A/N: hiii cuties! So I had a few ideas I've been toying around with, so I merged them together and came up with this. Also the third part of 'I Can Do It With a Broken Heart' will hopefully be out soon but I'm still trying to figure out the direction I want to take it in. Enjoy!

Your breaths are ragged as you lug your final suitcase through the front door of your new apartment. It was your senior year at UCONN, and you and your roommates had been assigned a new apartment, which you were ecstatic about. Long gone were the days of being squished into an old dorm room. And you were very excited about the lack of noise, which had kept you from your much needed 10 hours of sleep the past few years.

The August heat was stifling, but you welcomed the cool air coming through the vents, as you began organizing your new bedroom to perfection. Eagerness bubbled in your chest as you thought about your upcoming year before graduation. You’d finally be free.

College was supposed to be the time to find yourself before being inevitably dragged into the cruel pits of the real world. It was the time to go wild, get drunk often, and maybe even meet the love of your life. But you had spent your weekends studying and fine tuning the ‘good girl’ persona that you had adopted when you were a child.

You were the eldest daughter with a raging people pleasing complex, and it was starting to feel like your downfall. Your two roommates had found adoring boyfriends, and they often found themselves drunk as hell on the weekends, reveling in being young and carefree. You were growing to hate your crippling shyness.

You’d be lying if you said your lack of experience hadn’t started to weigh on you. You really wanted to learn how to put yourself out there. But you were dreadfully shy, and the idea of dating or hooking up was terrifying. Your innocence was fucking embarrassing. How would you explain to someone that you were a virgin? And what if they thought you were too timid to be good in bed?

So you just continued on as you had been throughout college; you studied, and you buried yourself in your imagination, and you prayed and hoped that someone would be willing to overlook all of your own insecurities.

Your thoughts of pity are interrupted by your two roommates calling your name. You walk out of your bedroom into the living room where the two girls are sharing shiteating grins, and you send them a questioning look.

“You’ll never guess who is across the hall from us,” Sarah says slyly, causing a pang of worry to shoot through your chest. The smirk on her face grew as you asked who it was.

“Paige Bueckers,” your other roommate, Taylor, shrieks as your face turns bright red.

Fuck.

“You’re fucking joking, right?” You whisper, eyes automatically flitting towards your door.

“Nope! I saw her and Aubrey Griffin walk out of the apartment literally five minutes ago,” Taylor announces, laughing as you fall backwards onto the couch.

“This is not good,” you whine dramatically, hands covering your face.

“Now you can see her pretty face every day,” Sarah all but sings, taking great pleasure in how uncomfortable you felt.

You scoff in indignation. “I can see her pretty face every day from the safety and comfort of my phone. It’s not like I’m actually ever going to talk to her.”

Your roommates pout at your sheer stubbornness. They had been trying to get you out of your shell from the last few years, much to your displeasure.

“C’mon, you’re so hot. You could totally catch Paige’s eye. You gotta have more confidence, girl,” Taylor all but whines exasperatedly.

“Yeah, sure,” you snort derisively. “Maybe while I’m at it, I can rizz up Harry Styles.” You roll your eyes at their ridiculousness.

They sigh in unison, stopping their pleading.

“We’ll just have to see what happens,” Taylor says with a dramatic wink, causing you to stick out your tongue childishly.

“I have spent the last three years avoiding Paige Bueckers’ beauty. I can do it one more year.”

Little did you know, though, that it would become quite hard to avoid the tall blonde.

Friday evening rolls around quickly, and because it was the last weekend before classes started, the students were eager to party it up. You had hoped the apartment building would be quiet, empty from the throngs of students out partying elsewhere. But the girls of the basketball team had other ideas.

The last few days, you had seen multiple girls coming and going from Paige’s apartment. The noise had been loud, but nothing too crazy. It was well known that the girls often went live on tiktok or instagram, and you had heard their laughter across the hall last night. So far, though, the volume levels had maintained a respectable level.

You had obviously jinxed yourself by thinking that, as the laughter and music pounded through your own walls. The cacophonous sound sent you spiraling. If you wanted them to be quieter, you would have to go ask them to turn it down, and you hated confrontation.

But you were alone tonight, and if you wanted to go to sleep at a decent hour, that was your only option.

You move in front of the mirror in your bathroom, subconsciously fixing your hair and muttering words of encouragement to yourself. You could do this. Paige is just a regular person. Sure, she was ridiculously attractive, but she was just a girl.

You walk out of the apartment into the hallway, your heart pounding dangerously as you near the door. The volume was insane, and you felt momentarily sad that you were wasting your Friday night alone at home, while everyone was having the time of their lives.

You shake your head, internally chastising yourself for the brutal thoughts, and with all the courage you could muster up, you knock loudly on the door, hoping the basketball team could hear it through the noise.

A few moments pass, and you momentarily think you’re about to pass out before the door opens and you are met with the glorious face of Paige fucking Bueckers.

You gulp, immediately grabbing a lock of hair to play with, desperately attempting to mask your anxiety. You bite your lip and look up at her.

“H-hi,” you stutter, feeling the blush bloom in your cheeks. “I’m so sorry to bother you guys, but the music is a little loud.”

Paige's face morphs into a look of surprise. “Oh shit. I’m sorry. I told KK to turn it down, but no one listens to me around here,” she jokes. “You live across the hall, right? I’m Paige!”

Her friendliness doesn’t necessarily shock you; she was well known for being a genuinely kind person around campus, but the fact that she knew who you were does shock you.

“Uh, yeah I do.” You introduce yourself with a shy smile, growing warmer under her gaze.

“Why don’t you come hang with us?” She prods, gesturing towards the living room with a large grin on her beautiful fucking face.

Your carefully crafted plan to forget about Paige this year was crumbling around you. And before you could even begin to thinking about stopping yourself, you shyly accept her invitation.

There was no going back now.

Paige ushers you in, leading you into the chaos, where most of the basketball team were enthralled in making tiktoks.

As you walk in and stand next to Paige, you look around, all but staring at the tall girls. The whole basketball team was ridiculously attractive, and it made your shyness increase tenfold. Paige gets their attention, and their eyes turn to you as Paige introduces you.

“She just moved in across the hall. And I told you the music was too loud, KK,” Paige adds, sending a sharp look towards the younger girl.

She grins mischievously, walking up to you with the swagger you could only dream of having.

“Sorry, girly pop, we’ll keep it down next time,” KK says, sending you a wink. You giggle in response, feeling more at ease already.

Paige introduces you to the rest of the team. They’re all so friendly, and your nervous demeanor slowly melts away as you acclimate to their boisterousness. They take turns talking to you, but Paige stays beside you, never being more than an arms length away.

You weren’t going to read into it. But the little voice in your head was screaming in both apprehension and glee. In the same way, you did not want to leave her side. In an insanely short amount of time, her presence had become a comfort to you, and you weren’t quite ready to give that up yet. So despite it being well past your respectable bedtime, you powered through, Paige’s aura energizing you.

As you mused over your thoughts, Paige was stuck in her own head. She had seen you around campus before; your pretty face was a difficult one to forget, and she was secretly delighted when she had opened her door to reveal your timid face.

She was determined to break you out of your shell. Little did she know how much she would.

You look down at your phone a while later, and you’re shocked to see that it was just past midnight. You could not remember the last time you were out that late, and a yawn threatens to escape from the depths of your throat. You subtly rub at your eyes, and Paige doesn’t miss it.

She nudges you, and you look up to gaze at her bright blue eyes.

God, she was so pretty.

“You sleepy?” She asks teasingly, and you nod, a blush creeping up your neck again.

“I’m not used to staying up this late. I should probably head back home,” you say, regret lacing your words.

Paige nods, standing up to walk you out to the door. You don’t miss how her hand grazes your waist as she guides you.

You wave goodbye to the girls who still remained, and they enthusiastically bid you a goodnight, making you promise to join them again soon.

“Thanks for letting me crash,” you profess, heart still pounding dangerously from the subtle touches, tingles on your waist left in her wake.

“Course,” she shrugs, a smirk on her face. She hands you her phone. “Let me know if we’re too loud again,” she whispers, leaning down to your ear.

Her closeness has you flustered, and you quickly enter your contact information, avoiding the heat of her gaze.

As you hand her cell phone back, her fingers brush across yours, and you subconsciously bite your lip to hold back a shaky breath from the view of her long fingers and her big, veiny hands.

Fuck.

The smirk doesn’t fade from Paige’s face as she notices you staring, and your face erupts in a vicious blush once more. .

With a bashful wave and a smile, you leave, all but running back into your apartment. Your heart was pounding, and there was a slight ache down in your most intimate area that had you squirming in desire.

Your little crush on Paige had been unrelenting the last few years, but it was still just casual. Things had changed, though, and now your feelings were undeniable. Long gone were the days of ignoring your sexuality.

Paige was so hot. And you were so screwed.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Please, please, please let me know what you think and if you want another part (or more)! Again, thanks for all the love and support!

xoxo katy

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x you #paige x reader #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb

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senascoop · 1 month ago

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SENA’S FAVOURITES ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 TAG GAME

Ꮺ by @iovestuck and I might've added-edited some questions to my liking. all of these answers are genuine and not with the bias of some of them being my moots. also, extremely sorry if I didn't add you on here. most of them are nsfw so... minors please do not interact. (💌)

001. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVOURITE FANFICS?

HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER — @i2sunric

i already yapped a lot when I first read her fic but this was personally really really cute to read and I loved heeseung’s and the reader’s bickering a lot.

THE PERFECT COPY — @florestalio

if this fanfic was a person I'd date them lol. this was something new and easily secured a seat in my favs.

STILL INTO YOU — @i2sunric

another one of casey’s work that I love a lot.

COULD I BE MORE OBVIOUS? — @rkvriki

this was written like a year ago and is still really good. especially the way it actually captured the “rich ceo husband” vibes.

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM — @heechwe

what were you thinking when you wrote that lexi? i couldn't find a single bad thing about the fic when i first read it and ngl it still remains as one of my fav.

FIXED COMFORT — @paarksunghoon

coming back to read this after a bad day and this never fails to bring a smile on my face even if I've already re-read this a lot of times.

002. FANFICS YOU'VE READ RECENTLY?

haven't read much lately but this has to be my list — heehoon jerking off together while thinking of the reader. part one, part two not sure if there's more parts, sharing = caring , and then this mind-blowing fic by casey, heavenly , i personally found this one cute, and then I've read this smtg about toxic situationship heeseung, then this one from mochiwonz which made me laugh, this from yuvany, reader is mean in this one but it's good, little lamb ... I have more but I can't exactly add all of them here—so if you're looking for fic recs, you should check @senascoooop

003. WHAT FANFICS DO YOU THINK SHOULD GET MORE RECOGNITION?

PUPPY ANTICS — @florestalio

I always re-read this because well... no reason-just the descriptions and the scene (though I hate angel for cutting it short...)

YOU’RE LOSING ME — @i2sunric

y'all are missing out on a lot of good stuff if you haven't read this angsty angst fic.

CORPSE BRIDE — @yuvany

start to end-just perfection.

BEWITCHED — @p4ranormaluv

to describe this fic in one word would be #wtfdidijustread? In a good way ofc. this deserves way more notes than it has right now.

TIL DEATH DO US PART — sena

TIED UP IN YOU — sena

self promo lol but I actually like these two of my works and they might as well be my best ones till now.

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS — @flwrstqr

a really fun fic to read, especially with the way both the reader and heeseung’s goal was definitely not to fall in love... but the two anyways did so.

VENOM — @gyuuberryy

the tension in this one and half way transformation of jay was just wowwww.

HORROR — @starryjake

the smut was rather really... cute alongside the ending...

666 — @simpjaes

a big fan of dark fics. and this was absolutely flawless!!

Not really a fanfic but rather sfw niki audio by @vanesycho part one, part two, part three, part four. I usually listen to these when I'm feeling down or can't fall asleep.

004. FAVOURITE AUTHORS?

all of my moots ofc lol but other than that ,

@i2sunric — all of her fics are hits and i personally really really really love them.

@florestalio — first found out about her through the fic “human or not” and I liked it from the go. and nevertheless-even if it's been a little time, I think we match the freak nonetheless.

@yuvany — she was in my favs the second i read corpse bride. then there's miss ugly duckling and her recent jay fic... absolutely amazing.

@p4ranormaluv — do I even need to have a reason for her to be here? she's really talented with the way she writes. Though I hope she's enjoying her break <3

@heechwe — every time you think someone can't get more sweet... lexi replies. even her fics are chefs kiss.

@gyuuberryy — she's my hype girl (ofc I'll add her on here and also bcz her fics are a big mwahh)

@mochiwonz — we aren't moots or anything but her works (smaus) randomly came in my for you page and i actually enjoyed a lot of them (so I'm adding her here too)

@paarksunghoon — every time a hard thought of hers comes into my for you-i know my evening's not gonna be so boring. y’all should read her fixed comfort and you plus me fic. 100% recommended.

@starryjake — another author who's also really good at making hard thoughts and fics :)

005. WHICH AUTHOR/READER DO YOU ADMIRE/ADORE THE MOST AND WHY?

all of my readers and moots ^^

but aside from them, i admire casey (i2sunric) & jazmine (p4ranormaluv) a lot and sort of started to write after reading their works <3

now I adore a lot of authors and readers but angel (florestalio) and ady (gyuuberry) have a special place in my heart. and I've actually gotten used to seeing some frequent readers which I absolutely notice and adore but the loud ones so far would be @zyvlxqht @flowerwinds (thank you so much for showing nothing other than love to me and my works) 🫶🏻💗

NOTE FROM SENA , i don't really read a lot which might explain why I don't have some more popular fics or authors in the recs. I'm also very sorry if I've forgotten someone (totally not intentional) this was really fun to make...thank you rain (iovestuck) you're another sweetie I found on blr :)

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 tagging anyone who wants to join

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luviestarz · 1 year ago

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lee haechan fic recs!

❤︎ I LIKE YOU (I DO) (L.DH) - @domjaehyun (stoner!haechan just wants you to know how much he likes you.)

❤︎ paperclip - @smileysuh (yandere, ex bf! hyuck)

❤︎ My Boy. - @prodbymaui (A series of failed relationships and you were this near of giving up on love. But then here comes little Donghyuck and his persistence. Maybe-- he was the one fated to you, after all.)

❤︎ kiss it better - @yeow6n (haechan gets hurt but you know that with him it’s not going to be as simple as putting a band-aid on it)

❤︎ sugar, butter, & the royal crown - L.DH - @haechwrites (prince donghyuck only has one princess on his mind, but she's not actually a princess. she's just the royal baker's granddaughter.)

❤︎ bus stop - @ooshu (haechan rides the bus. you hop on the same ride. minutes later, you two were a couple. he never questioned why.)

❤︎ strawberries & cigarettes - @hyudior (the art school's play is in two days and you're running out of time to put everything together since your known enemy lee donghyuck decided that the rehearsal day was the perfect day to release a launch party for his new album.)

❤︎ >> take my breath - @hyuckwrlds

❤︎ moles ♡‧₊˚ lee haechan - @sleeping-sirens (you read something on the internet that made you feel jealous of a person you didn’t even know but haechan knows just how to reassure you.)

❤︎ haechan — gold-skinned, eager baby - @hyuckmov (he used to be able to hide it. he used to be fine with glancing at you, habitually flicking his eyes to your chest when you would walk into the room or snuggle up to him. but now he’s totally fucked, because he thinks he’s developed some sort of addiction.)

❤︎ eyes tell - @tonicandjins (donghyuck has been trying to confess his feelings to you. third time's the charm, he thinks.)

❤︎ going below zero | l.dh - @cherryeoniis (Considering how much Haechan makes it his personal mission to antagonize you at work, it seems like a rather cruel twist of fate that the both of you have been side by side since middle school, the only consolation being that his office is a different floor from yours. But if there’s a saying about how distance makes the heart grow fonder, your attitude with him might just be the opposite, and it’ll take a family ski holiday to find out.)

❤︎ take my breath. - @sixzeroes (lee donghyuck did not believe in ‘love at first sight.’ key word: did. he does now, but only because you happened to fall into his arms on the icy road in the narrow streets. you’re going to render him breathless from the countless times your smile takes his breath away.)

❤︎ ice cream thief [ l.dh ] - @tddyhyck (someone has been eating haechan's favorite ice cream so he decides to put a hidden camera in the kitchen and living room thinking it's a shared space it shouldn't invade anyone's privacy... right?)

❤︎ tease | lee haechan - @hyuckiefluff (Playing spin the bottle definitely wasn't what you had envisioned for your first college party. And the last person you expected to see was Lee Haechan. But life has a funny way of throwing surprises at you, and this time it came in the form of the bottle landing on some drunk dude who dared you to kiss Haechan.)

❤︎ 𝟏𝟎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ¹⁸⁺ - @goldyeokki (you and lee donghyuck both get along like oil and water. if it were up to you, you would be going about your days without even breathing in his direction. unfortunately you're in the same friend group and you have to tolerate each other. as handsome or attractive as people claim him to be, you hate his guts. there's so many reasons why you hate him, so why do you get butterflies in your stomach when he's near?)

❤︎ high (with my lover) [m] – l.dh - @yeonghosins (y/n smokes up with donghyuck for the first time)

❤︎ what the puck! - @choerrypuffs (you hit the university’s star hockey player with your car. shenanigans (and maybe even a little romance) ensue.)

❤︎ double take | l.dh - @cherryeoniis (friends to lovers, highschool au, slowburn, fluff, angst)

❤︎ Your Red Lipstick || L.DH - @ihaechans (Kisses, kisses, kisses. That’s all your boyfriend wants. When you refuse to give him the one thing he craves, he won’t leave you alone, begging and begging until you give in.)

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cameronsprincess · 1 year ago

Text

— summary: stuck at the chateau with jj— who hates you— during a hurricane turns into a night you definitely didn’t expect.

— pairing: jj maybank x kook princess!reader

— warnings: smut! 18+ hate sex!! dub con, fingering, protected sex, degrading, hair pulling, choking, spanking, some language, jj is a so mean in this. i think that’s all.

↠ note— i literally found this in my notes from back in June lmao. thought i’d finish it and post it.

❥ the storm— j.m

“i’m not afraid, sare! i just don’t necessarily like storms. i don’t understand why you and john b. couldn’t stay here tonight”

a sigh leaves your lips, fingertips pushing the thin curtains of the room you’re in to the side as you watched the rain pour down, the trees roughly swayed from the strong winds as booms of thunder and cracks of lightning fill your ears.

sarah chuckles. “y/n/n you’re going to be fine! besides jj is there too, why don’t you go hang out with him? the storm should be passed by morning”

you groan, letting the curtains fall from your fingers. quickly turning your body, you make your way toward the bed, tossing yourself back onto the mattress as you roll your eyes.

you’d gladly hang out with jj, but he hated you. you never understood why, but he always acted like he would rather be anywhere else when you were around.

“jj hates me, sare. you know that”

the sound of john b’s voice and sarah’s giggles fill your ears, making you roll your eyes again.

“he doesn’t hate you! he just doesn’t like kooks, so he’s taking his time on warming up to us”

boom!

a loud rumble of thunder causes you to slightly jump. you completely throw the fact that jj hates you out the window and jump up from the bed, slowly making your way toward the door. “okay sare, i’m going to find jj, y’all have a good night”

sarah says her goodbyes and you hang up the phone. you slowly pull open the bedroom door, slipping out of the room in search of jj.

you make your way down the small hallway and into the living room, finding a shirtless jj standing at the screen door of the house as he watched the storm roll in.

you find yourself staring at him longer than you probably should, but you couldn’t help yourself. you had thought jj was attractive from the moment you first laid eyes on him, and how couldn’t you? he was beautifully tanned and toned, his back muscles contracting with every move he made, his messy blond hair framed his face perfectly, his perfect plump, pink lips, and his eyes. his bright, ocean blue eyes could make any girl melt.

but you would never openly admit any of that.

“hey j, can’t sleep either?”

your voice startles him, making him jump and turn to face you. his face quickly turns into a look of annoyance when he sees it’s you, not like he could see anyone else, you’re the only two here.

he turns back toward the door, his focus back on the storm outside. “what do you want?”

you sigh, running a hand through your hair and sitting on the old couch.

“i just couldn’t sleep, it’s really coming down out there huh?”

jj groans, resting his head against the screen door before he pulls back and turns to face you. “are you really trying to make small talk with me right now? you and i don’t get along, so let’s not pretend we do”

you scoff, turning yourself on the couch and sitting on your knees to face jj fully. “you don’t like me, i try to be nice, but you make it so goddamn hard when you act like you can’t stand me!”

jj opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it when a loud rumble of thunder shakes the small house. you jump slightly at the sound, your eyes going wide as you frantically look around the small house, cursing yourself for coming here in the first place and getting stuck overnight with jj fucking maybank.

jj notices your tense demeanor, snorting out a laugh as he smirks in amusement. “you’re seriously scared of a hurricane? haven’t you like lived here your entire life?” he pauses, snapping his fingers in mock realization as he laughs darkly. “oh wait, that’s right. kook princess is used to her generators and big fancy house on figure eight, never been stuck in a small house on the cut during one of these i assume?”

you sigh exasperatedly. “why are you such a dick, jj? what the fuck have i ever done to you?”

“i just don’t fucking like you”

you groan, pulling yourself from the couch and making your way into the kitchen. you pull the fridge open harshly, grabbing a beer and popping it open. you bring the rim to your lips, taking a long sip from it before harshly sitting it on the counter. “well good to know. i don’t fucking like you either, you’re a complete asshole who thinks he’s some hot shot because he’s attractive, but newsflash, you’re not special jj”

jj’s head whips in your direction, his eyes narrowed toward you. he takes a few long strides toward you, making your breathing accelerate the closer he got. your bodies were so close together you could feel his breath fanning over your face, and you were sure he could hear your heart rapidly beating in your chest. you swallow thickly, straightening yourself and locking your eyes with his.

you gasp loudly, your hand hitting the counter and knocking your beer bottle onto the floor when he wraps his large hand around your throat, squeezing so tightly your vision began to instantly blur from the tears forming in your eyes.

“and you’re a fucking kook princess who thinks the world revolves around her. you think everyone has to fucking like you, but newsflash. you ain’t special either, princess”

you begin clawing at his hand, trying to pry him off of you, but he was much stronger than you. you whimper as he squeezes tighter, his fingers surely bruising the skin of your neck, an amused smirk on his lips as he watched you struggle under his hold. you tried to get words out, wanting to beg him to let you go, but you couldn’t breathe, much less talk, due to the grip he had on you.

“what was that princess? i didn’t quite catch that”

you dig your fingernails into the back of his hand, leaving half crescent shapes in the skin. you use your free hand to continue pushing at his chest, hot tears flowing down your cheeks as you felt your head becoming fuzzy from the lack of oxygen.

jj finally releases your throat, pushing you back into the fridge when he does. you begin gasping for air, trying to suck as much oxygen as you could back into your lungs. “what the fuck jj? are you fucking psychotic?”

you begin rubbing at your throat, trying to ease the sting from where his hands were. another gasp leaves your mouth when jj is in front of you again, bodies so close you could feel his bulge against your thigh through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. he takes his hands and tightly grabs your arms, turning your bodies and pushing your back into the countertop, more pain shoots through you from the impact.

“you really need a fucking attitude adjustment, princess. and i think i know just how to fix it”

your breath hitches in your throat as jj inches his face closer to you, his lips ghosting over yours. you’d be lying if you said the aggression that spewed from him wasn’t a turn on to you, the ache between your legs and arousal pooling into your panties an obvious indicator that you were in fact turned on.

“what- what’re you gonna do? hmm? i bet you don’t even know how to properly fuck a girl” you spit out, your noses brushing over one another as you keep your eyes locked on his.

this just made jj even angrier, he places his hands back around your throat, smashing his lips against yours roughly. you let out a strangled moan when he slips his tongue into your mouth, using the grip on your throat to pull you further into him.

you melt into him for a moment, your lips moving fervently with his. it’s a mess of teeth and tongues, the feel of jj’s hard cock pressed firmly into your thigh making you wetter, needier. he releases your throat, running his hands up the sides of your face and digging his finger into your hair, tugging at it lightly.

your mind begins racing, your senses finally hitting you. you push jj off, slapping him across the face, his head whips to the side from the impact.

“i’m not sleeping with you, jj”

jj slowly turns his head toward you, bringing a hand up to rub at the spot you’d just slapped. “oh yeah? i’d bet you’ve soaked those pretty little panties of yours, why don’t we find out, hmm?”

you begin rapidly shaking your head, biting down on your bottom lip so hard you taste blood. you try to push past jj’s body, but he has you caged in, your back firmly pressed against the counter top. jj’s hands fly to the waistband of your sleep shorts, pushing a hand down and into your panties, his thick fingers running through your slick folds making your head throw back in pleasure, eyes squeezed shut as you try and stave off your moans.

“what’d i say? you’re fucking soaked, your pussy is begging to be fucked by me”

a small whimper escapes your lips when jj shoves his index finger into your soaked core, thrusting it in and out of you slowly as his dark eyes stay locked on yours. you could see the enjoyment on his face, he enjoyed watching you fall apart for him, he loved the control he had over you in the moment.

and as much as you wanted to push him off of you, tell him to go fuck himself, you were enjoying this too much.

“jj” you breathe out, chest heaving up and down.

he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, shoving another finger into your cunt. he begins harshly thrusting them in and out of you, his palm firmly pressed against your clit.

you feel your orgasm building inside you, the band threatening to snap when he curves his fingers slightly, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you that no man has ever found.

“i-i’m gonna cum, jj. fuck, s’close!” you whine, grinding yourself against his hand, chasing your high as he pushes his fingers roughly into you. you begin clenching around his fingers, your release threatening to burst out of you.

jj stops, pulling his fingers from inside you and sucking them clean. “mmm, the princess tastes so good, who knew?”

you throw your head up, eyes narrowed toward him in annoyance. “jj what the fuck, why’d you stop?!”

jj chuckles darkly, his hands flying to the back of your hair as he smashes his lips to yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. you moan against his lips when you taste yourself on his tongue.

he pulls your lips from his, holding your head back as his dark eyes burn into yours. “bratty little sluts like you don’t get to cum that easily”

you pout. “but-“ you begin but your words die on your tongue, jj’s tight grip on your hair pulling a whine from your lips. he begins pulling you to the couch by your hair, your legs failing to keep up with his long strides causing you to stumble and trip over your own two feet.

jj tosses you onto the couch, a dark laugh falling from his mouth as he watches you stare back at him in frustration.

“take your clothes off, now”

you hesitantly pull your shirt over your head, tossing it onto the floor in front of you before you move to pull your shorts and panties down your legs. you feel your face heating up, feeling a little too exposed in front of jj for your liking.

jj sucks in a sharp breath, his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes scanned the length of your naked body.

he takes a step toward you, making you flinch and scoot yourself further into the couch. you weren’t afraid of him, but after the way he’s been all night, it was out of instinct to flinch away from him.

“don’t be scared, gonna fuck the attitude right out of you, and then we can go back to acting like the other doesn’t exist, got it?”

“o-okay”

jj pulls at the waistband of his sweatpants, shoving them down his legs and kicking them to the side. your eyes go wide when you see his impressive length pressed against his thigh through the fabric of his briefs. you’d always heard rumors about jj’s size, but seeing it for yourself, he looked much bigger than you’d expected.

jj leans forward, gripping at your arms and yanking you upright. he pulls you to your feet, sitting on the couch and patting at his legs, making you cock your head to the side in confusion.

“c’mon, lay across my lap”

you do as he says, laying your body across his lap. you weren’t sure what his plan was, but you were too turned on to care, whatever he had in store for you would be worth it.

slap!

you wince, the feel of jj’s hand landing harshly on your ass making you whimper. “what’re you-“ slap! jj’s hand lands another harsh slap against your ass, tears forming in your eyes from the pain left behind.

“just a little discipline, you need to learn not to talk back all the fucking time, not to have such a fucking attitude”

he lands another harsh slap to the other side of your ass, the burn you felt from his hands making tears flow quickly down your face.

jj begins rubbing at your ass, his large hands kneading at the flesh. you sigh in relief when you think he’s finally done with the spanking, but your mind goes blank when you feel him land yet another rough smack.

he pulls you up, sitting you on the couch and wiping his thumb across your cheek. “stop fucking crying”

you sniffle, nodding your head and wiping your tears away from your face.

you watch as jj makes his way toward john b’s room, returning quickly with a condom in hand. you watch in awe as he slides his briefs down his legs, his large cock springing free and slapping at his stomach.

“stop staring, princess. s’not nice” your eyes meet his, an amused smirk on his face when he sees the look of fear in your eyes. he strokes himself a few times before he rips the foil packet open with his teeth, sliding the condom down his length and stepping toward you. “it’ll fit, don’t worry. and if it doesn’t, i’ll make it fit”

you swallow the lump in your throat, nodding your head as you watch him fall onto the couch. “come sit on my cock, want you to ride me”

you stand from your spot on the couch so quickly you trip over your own feet, stumbling forward, hands pressed firmly into jj’s chest. you throw one leg over his waist, straddling him and gripping his cock in one hand. you begin grinding your hips over his length, a low groan pulled from him.

“stop fucking teasing me, i don’t want to have to hurt you again, but i will”

you nod your head, reaching behind you and grasping his cock in your hands, stroking him softly and lining him up with your entrance. you push the head in slowly, gasping when the thick head pushes into you.

jj groans. “fuuuck”

you fully sink yourself onto him, a loud moan falling past your lips. you dig your fingernails into his shoulders, resting your head in the crook of his neck as you sit still, trying to adjust to his size.

jj grips your hips, sliding you up slowly before pushing you back down harshly. your breath hitches in your throat when the head of his cock hits your g-spot. “fuck, jj, fuck!”

he lands a slap to your ass, a whimper falling from your lips at the action. “move, now” jj demands, both his hands landing harsh slaps to your ass cheeks again.

you quickly do as he says, bouncing yourself up and down his length. the sounds of both your skin slapping together, soft whimpers and loud moans fill the room.

jj runs his hands from your hips to your ass, gripping at the flesh hard, landing smacks as you continue to bounce yourself up and down. “such a good fucking slut, bouncing yourself on my cock, the cock of the man that fucking hates you”

you whimper, jj’s cock pushing into you so deep you could feel it in your stomach. the head of his cock continuously hits at your sweet spot, the band in your belly begins to tighten, your vision blurred with tears. “jj, i’m gonna cum- fuck! i’m gonna cum!”

you hear jj tsk, his hands making purchase on your hips again as he stops your movements. “you don’t fucking cum until i say you can, got it? brats don’t get to cum whenever they fucking want”

you whine, your hand slithering between the two of you, fingers finding your clit instantly. you begin rubbing slow circles around your sensitive bud, trying to chase your orgasm despite jj’s telling you no.

jj’s hand grabs yours, pulling it from your clit and twisting your arm behind your back. “are you disobeying me, princess? i would recommend you not do that”

jj begins pounding his hips up into yours, his cock repeatedly hitting your g-spot, a string of curses and moans falling from your lips at his continued abuse to your cunt.

“such a tight fucking pussy. who knew the girl i fucking hate would feel so fucking good” jj groans, his voice low and raspy.

he begins placing sloppy kisses around your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin. you feel his thrusts getting sloppy, letting you know he was close to his orgasm. “j, can i please cum? please” you whine, tears flowing down your face from the pressure you felt between your thighs.

jj sinks his teeth into your shoulder, his dick stiffening as he bursts into the condom.

“fuckfuck, go on, cum. be a good slut and cum all over me”

his words were all it took to send you flying over the edge, your release bursting from you in body shaking euphoria.

“jj, shit, feels so fucking good jj” you cry out, his hips pounding into you a few more times before he goes limp beneath you.

you rest your head on his shoulder, trying to slow your breathing. jj slaps at your ass, making you lift your head as he lifts you from his lap, tossing you to the side.

jj chuckles, standing from the couch and pulling the condom off of himself, tossing it into the trash. “thanks for that, i’m gonna sleep good now”

he opens the fridge, pulling out a beer and opening it. he takes a long sip as he makes his way back into the living room, grabbing his underwear and sweatpants from the floor and slipping them back on.

“we don’t talk about this, ever. got it? it was just.. hate sex? someone had to fuck the attitude out of you. this changes nothing, you mean nothing to me, and i still hate you”

you sit on the couch, tears beginning to fill your eyes again as you stare at him in shock. you felt dirty, used, hurt. he just fucked you for fun? he still hated you? you were regretting your decision to sleep with him now, even though you never fully said you wanted to, you never said no, never stopped him.

jj laughs darkly at the expression on your face, taking another sip from his beer, his head shaking in amusement as he disappears down the hallway and into john b’s room.

you bring your knees up to your chest, letting silent, choked sobs escape your throat. jj fucking maybank. this changed everything, and now, you fucking hated him as much as he hated you.

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