#and his reply is just: tunnel. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

braindeadjaidyn · 26 days ago

Note

Rafe following his babysitter into the bathroom

Fucking her against the door, holding her mouth closed with his hand

His family just outside in the living room, while he is fing her as hard as he can

BABYSITTERS CLUB!

summary:..-> reader and rafe always had a thing for each other. everything changes once she picks up a babysitting job, babysitting the one and only kook king.

warnings:..-> smut, p n v, bad dirty words, wards a douche, rough sex, rushed sex, both cum quick:(, sex that could’ve got them caught?? EVERYONE IS OF AGE!!!

word count:..-> 2700.

a/n:..-> hello pookie and pookies! okay so don’t be mad….i know I didn’t do the bathroom but I hope this okay! i got tunnel vision and didn’t even realize! im sorry if i edged yall with the constant build up. yall writing sex is HARD. anyway requests are open bye love u. AND BE NICE.

It was almost laughable that Rafe fucking Cameron, kook king needed a babysitter. It WAS laughable. Ward Cameron had contacted you through Facebook knowing of the fact you babysit. Yeah, you did, but not 20-year-old frat guys.

Ward Cameron: Hello Y/n! Your father told me you do babysitting and I’m looking to hire one for tonight! It would be for my son and daughter, it may seem a little odd. My apologies. I will be having some important meetings with a large group, and I don’t trust either to be on their best behavior. Please contact me back so we can discuss further! I’ll pay 500$ for 3 hours.

The message sent you into a fit of cackles, screenshotting the text and sending it to all your friends. The idea was so tempting. So fucking tempting. 500$ for 3 hours was a literal steal…Yet you were going to be in the presence of the insufferable Rafe Cameron. You hadn’t had many interactions with Rafe, he usually just teased you for being the ‘prude good girl’ every time you told him no to hook up. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t think about letting him fuck the shit out of you, hell you almost did. Every time you’d open your mouth to try and agree he’d open his spewing his bullshit, immediately forcing you to shut your own.

You bit at the soft flesh on your bottom lip, tapping the phone with your eyes trained on the text. Fuck it. 500$ for keeping the cocky frat boy in line sounded so good, so so fucking good. You agreed, and your thumbs moved quickly over the screen. Your lip was still tucked firmly between your teeth as you waited for his father’s reply.

Y/n L/n: That sounds good! Thank you so much Mr. Cameron! I’ll be there. When should I be there and can I have the address?

Ward Cameron: Of course Y/n! My meeting is in about 40 minutes, I would like you here as soon as possible. I will be here the whole time so I’ll give you a rundown of responsibilities and such when you arrive. *address*.

This soon? You immediately scrambled to your feet, throwing on some more appropriate clothes than your lounge ones. You were so quick you thought your heels were on fire.

Soon enough here you were on the Camerons porch knocking on the front door. Jesus, why did you agree to this? Fuck. The only time you ever interacted with Rafe was when you were fucked up, now here you were sober about to babysit the grown-ass man. This is ridiculous. The door swung open, of fucking course Rafe Cameron was the one to answer it. Sporting his stupid handsome smirk and backward cap. “You’re the one who’s keepin’ me on a leash tonight girl?” He drawled, flashing you his teeth.

Goddamn, his fucking fine ass. You tongued the inside of your cheek, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at his comment. With a tilt of your head and a soft huff, you finally met his gaze. “Just shut up and let me in Cameron,” With that Rafe chuckled, shaking his head as he moved from the door opening it further. You could feel his sharp stare as you walked past him and into the house. You were a little in awe at the niceness but quickly masked it, tucking your face back into its resting expression. Rafe didn’t miss it as he sidestepped around you, his smirk only growing.

“You never been in a house this nice princess?,” Rafe taunted, his smirk replaced with a smug smile.”Come on, my dad’s in here,” He led you further into the home, and you lagged behind. Cursing him internally at his snarky comments. Why was this dude such a diva? You followed aimlessly looking around at the different decor, this was so different from your own house.

Ward Cameron sat on the sofa, his attention on the laptop resting on the marble coffee table, his fingers working against the keys. He just looked like a dick, great….Rafe cleared his throat and shifted on his feet. You picked up his sudden change in demeanor, his once arrogant self replaced with a look that looked like a kicked puppy. It was sad, actually very sad. But you shrugged off your sympathy as Ward glanced up his face lighting up in foe friendliness. “Y/n my dear. Thank you for coming,” Ward greeted, closing the distance between the three. “Right well, I'm having a large meeting this evening. Lots of colleagues and other investors are joining me today. We will be using the living room, my office would be far too cramped. I’m just asking you to keep an eye on everyone and out of the living room.”

This man just screamed condescending. You nodded, sending him a soft smile. Once again you fought the urge to roll your eyes, how did he expect his grown son to listen to her? He was Rafe Cameron. It was widely known he doesn’t listen to anyone. “Yes sir, I can do that.” You spoke softly and sweetly, it was an act yet you wanted that 500$. Rafe sent you another smirk before he licked his lips to keep his dirty comment to himself. Ward nodded, reaching out to softly pat your shoulder. He quickly pulled away, and you fought the urge to jerk away. “Great! Well, Rafe behave. You’re 20 years old. It’s ridiculous that I had to even hire her.” Ward shot his son a pointed look, which made Rafe emotionally cower. Rafe just firmly nodded, his arms folded over his chest. You had to divert your gaze, your cheeks heating as you noticed how his shirt sleeves were straining against his muscles. Fuck.

A firm rushed knock at the front door thankfully interrupted your sinful thoughts. Ward immediately jerked his head to the noise, moving past the young adults. “Right, that's my meeting. So see you both later.” Ward called as he barely bothered looking over his shoulder at the two. He disappeared out of the living, and you could feel Rafe's eyes on you. Jesus Christ, does he have an off button? You met his gaze, surprised to see it was blank. “What?” You questioned, your face slightly twisted and your eyebrow arched.

Rafe just sighed deeply, running his hand over his cap. “Let’s get upstairs before he throws a bitch fit,” Rafe muttered, his body already moving toward and up the stairs. You followed, your heart beating wildly. It felt weird how domestic? No. Casual. Yeah, how casual this was. His long legs ate away at the distance of the stairs, you lagged behind feeling a little awkward by everything. I mean you’re fucking babysitting Rafe Cameron and his little sister, it was weird. You made your way to the top of the steps, glancing at him awkwardly for his next move. You could already hear the chatter from the men downstairs.

“Quit actin’ all fuckin shy girl, Les’ go Sarah’s in here,” Rafe smirked his head cocking over to a door, his hand pulling the door open. “How’s it hangin’ Sar?,” You were now standing in the doorway of what you assumed was a movie room, you knew they were rich but they were richhh. Sarah barely glanced up from her phone at the duo, shrugging her shoulders in response. Rafe plopped down on one of the sofas, legs spread open as he looked you over. “Sooo, are you always this weird when you're sober princess?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words. He was so damn cocky and for what? You scowled at him, your pretty face twisting. “Do you always need a babysitter at your grown age?” You snarked, your hands crossing over your chest and you shifted your weight to your hip. Rafe took notice of that and eyed your hip for a moment, chuckling as he tongued the inside of his cheek.

“Real cute baby, don’t be throwin’ that up in my face.” Rafe rasped, his eyes looking over you cocking his brow at the fact you were still standing in the doorway. He patted the cushion next to him, a smirk on his lips. “Don’t be shy princess, I won't bite.”

You thought for a moment before begrudgingly plopping yourself down next to him. It was a small couch, so small you were brushing thighs with him. You averted your gaze as you felt your cheeks flush at the contact. You knew he was planning something, you could feel it in his stares. Rafe was planning something, more so just thinking about fucking you stupid over the armrest of the couch. He was going to hell for what he was about to ask, especially with Sarah in the room. He leaned forward, bracing his hand on the top of the couch. Rafe's chest was flush against your shoulder, his head ducked down by your ear fanning his breath down your neck. “Why won’t you let me fuck you princess?”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, his breath sending your mind into overdrive. You bit your lip, adjusting your skirt to try and compose yourself. You were bright red and you could feel it, you could also feel the ache between your legs at his tone. You had to remind yourself Sarah was in the room. You looked over at him and felt like you could melt when you met his smug gaze. “I mean..I-I would-,“ Your voice was low and quiet, careful for Sarah's listening ears, but before you could finish Sarah's dramatically loud groan and the thump of her phone cut you off. You were so down bad.

“The fuc- The wifi just went out, ugh. Rafe fix it,” Sarah whined, looking at her older brother with pleading eyes. The only issue was the router was in the living room. Rafe sighed deeply at the interruption, glancing over at Sarah with narrowed eyes.

Rafe definitely couldn’t go down there and fuck with the router with his dad having a meeting. It was the whole point why Y/n was there. But he could get her downstairs and alone…So tempting in his pervy brain and worth a shot. “Fine. Come on Y/n. Be my cover.”

Seriously? He was going to go down there, practically asking for a meltdown from his dad. Before you could protest he had you by the forearm and dragged you out of the movie room. “Rafe-“ You went to speak but he cut you off as he pressed his finger to his lips, silently shushing you as the two of you crept down the stairs. You both met at the bottom of the stairs, the living room just around the corner, a wall protecting the view of the duo. The laughs and voices of multiple men were slightly muffled from the distance.

You crept forward, keeping close to the wall not without shooting Rafe a pointed look. You were falling right into his dirty trap, just like he wanted. His mind only focused on fucking that cunt and your interrupted words. Before you could peek over the corner he pressed your back flush against the wall, his body eliminating the distance as he pressed his front to yours. He smirked down at you, his eyes roving over you like you were prey. “Finish your sentence, pretty girl.” He commanded, his voice low, careful to not attract anyone’s attention.

Your mouth opened to speak but the words were lost in your throat. Your mind was spinning at the closeness, your pussy was practically pleading. You could only hold his intense stare, his hand snaking around to grip the back of your thigh. “Say it. Tell me you want this dick baby.” Rafe cooed his mouth coming to your ear, his lips brushing the skin. Fuck this. You were already soaked from his touch, his words only increased the throb. You couldn’t believe what you were about to do, but it was Rafe fucking Cameron…

You nodded weakly, hands fisting his shirt as you lifted the thigh he grasped. “I want it, please.” You wanted to smack yourself for the desperation in your tone, but you never wanted to get fucked like you did now. Rafe pounced, his lips immediately crashing into yours. It was sloppy and full of need. God, he kissed like a fucking whore. You couldn’t help but mewl against his lips, your body felt like it was on fire. His hands were everywhere, leaning his body against yours as his hands grabbed the flesh of your ass from under your skirt. Which earned him another soft mewl, yet it was muffled by his soft lips. He rutted himself against you, god this was so nasty. So down bad. But you were fucking loving it. So was Rafe.

He pulled away, his chest heaving with heavy deep breaths. His lips were wet, and he looked sinful. You moved your hands to the waistband of his shorts, working away the button and zipper. You couldn't help it truly. Rafe liked your eagerness, his ego inflated as well as his dick. “Needy fuckin’ girl.” Rafe tsked lowly, assisting you as he tugged away down his shorts, his hands moving to the waistband of his boxers, he couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction to the tent in his boxers. Your eyes were wide, pretty lips parted in need. He freed himself from the boxers, fisting his cock as he looked you over. Fuck. He was so hot. You took this as your cue, you moved your panties to the side. This wasn’t the best spot to get caught fully exposed…

“Rafe…What if someone- fuck- mph-“ You whispered, cut off by Rafe thrusting his cock into you his hand clamping over your mouth. He kept his other hand on the back of your thigh, as he pounded into you. His cock was moving in your slick walls at a relentless pace, his fat tip brushing areas you never knew existed.

Rafe had his lips parted, his head hung back as your pussy clenched tightly around him. He kept his hand firmly clasped around your mouth, he smooshed the side of your face into the wall, his cock fucking into you at an unforgiving pace. The sound of your pelvis’s kissing was sinful. “Take it, take this fat dick,” Rafe growled lowly, his eyes glancing to the corner of the wall as he heard a couple of men speak louder.

You couldn’t even muster a response, let alone voice it due to his harsh grip around your mouth. You could only pathetically whine and cry against his palm, as his cock brushed that spongy spot deep into you. Your teeth grazed the flesh of his hand as he repositioned his thrusts, fucking you upwards against the wall. You clawed at his arms, your cunt squeezing tightly around his cock. God, you couldn’t believe how close he had gotten you so quickly. Your lower stomach burned with need, your core aching for release. You could tell Rafe was close, his brows knitted and his lip tucked between his teeth. His cock twitched in your velvety walls, he dropped his hand from your thigh moving his fingers to firmly rub your clit. You bit at the flesh of his hand, hoping to muffle your screams as you crashed over the edge. Your body trembling, eyes rolled back as you made a mess on his fat cock. You clamped down on his cock as Rafe let out a deep groan, planting his cock deep into you as he painted your womb with his warm cum. Your chest heaved with fast shaky breaths, you just let Rafe Cameron fuck you against a wall, while his father and however many men were on the other side.

Rafe pulled out of you, a sly smile on his lips. He pulled your panties back to the side and tucked himself back into his boxers with a chuckle. He held your wide blown-out gaze as he pulled his shorts up. “You’re a shit babysitter princess.”

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m-ayo-o · 2 months ago

Text

soft sukuna !!! <3 nsfw; abstaining from sex until he realises his baby has a little praise kink!!

"sukuna.. i can't.."

you tell him with a small pout on your lips.

after last time you thought he might be more careful, maybe showing you a little mercy. but no.

your boyfriend wants to fuck, and it seems that he won't be giving up on that idea anytime soon.

"why not?" he grunts his reply, nipping at your earlobe with his body pressed against yours.

your cheeks burn with the feeling of his voice in your ear.

but you squeeze his leg and push on him, creating a small gap between your bodies.

"told you.. already.."

your eyes focus everywhere but his, while his explore your entire body as you squirm beneath him.

"mmh" he vocalises that he doesn't care about what you just said, bringing his hand under your chin to tilt your face up.

"tell me again"

your eyes dart around, then are forced into contact with his.

he gives you a deep, hard stare. maroon irises never leaving yours.

his thumb starts to tug at your bottom lip with impatience.

however much you know he's doing this to humiliate you, or for his own gratification, you don't want him to lose his patience.

"too.." your eyes dip away from his one more time. he gives your chin an encouraging squeeze, a hint of a smirk showing on his lips.

"too big.."

you admit it. again.

that you're abstaining from sex because he hurt you so bad last time that you're scared to do it.

you've been resisting for a whole week!

and damn, it's getting difficult to deny his advances now it's been that long. with him in close proximity, every day, teasing you.

he knows you want it.

but he also knows that it will hurt you.

so he's been working on wearing you down until you start to enjoy the stinging sensation of a cock that's just too big for your tight little hole.

he's going to get you there eventually.

he knows you already enjoy mild pain...

spanking, love bites, grabbing, choking.

but he never knew it would end up like this.

"i'll go easy on you.." he promises, lips moving closer to yours.

you try to back up but your head is still caught in his grasp.

"uh uh. not today sweetheart"

he's let you get away from him a few times this week; slipping through his fingers with a lie in the form of an excuse.

"you don't need to make excuses with me"

his eyes can pick apart your lies in any case. you know there's no point.

"i want to make you feel good"

your lip is between your teeth, eyes wide, your brain scrambling to consider what you're being offered right now.

he's bending over backwards to ensure you get a good fuck.

can you trust him?

"nnghh- su-sukuna-"

you lie back on the bed with his cock nudging at your sweet entrance.

that's where he wants to be.

he's got tunnel vision now.

after he gave you one orgasm with his fingers, to loosen you up, he couldn't wait any longer.

the way your pussy gripped over his fingers made him seethe with anger that his cock wasn't deep inside you, coated with your slick.

"ughh-" he sighs out, black ink hooking over his heaving chest.

he's getting so impatient now and you really need him to calm down or he's going to hurt you again.

this is how it always happens.

a kind of aggression takes over his body when he gets like this.

angry that your pussy won't let him in.

angry that he can give you pleasure with his fingers.

with his mouth.

but oh no, that's not what he wants.

he wants you cumming on his cock.

and that's what he's going to get.

regaining his composure, his eyes focus on your body again.

crimson meets pretty pink, the shade of your flushed pussy lips.

and he stares intently, smoothing his hands over your tummy.

"calm down, sweetheart"

he hums, sounding almost caring.

"i need you to relax for me, ok?"

you nod and place a hand around one of his wrists.

"please.. can i hold your hand?" you ask, batting your lashes.

ugh. this lovey dovey shit makes his blood boil.

but for you?

"sure, princess"

his fingers lace with yours, palms together, pressed to the pillow.

he takes a few deep breaths, encouraging you to do the same, as your body eases up and starts to relax, just like he asked.

"good girl" he coos, squeezing your hand gently.

he feels your pussy flutter gently against his tip, that's pressed hard and leaking on your wet body.

without realising what he's doing, only understanding that you like this- the way he's talking to you right now- he suddenly learns that you need him to reassure you.

you want him to be soft and gentle with you.

so that's what he's going to give you.

"that's it, baby," his voice is so calm and soothing, you listen to every word with your eyes glistening.

"you're doing so well, i just need you to open up for me, okay?"

the sinister, curling rasp is almost lost from his voice, being replaced by a tone so unfamiliar you question that this is really your man above you right now.

"s- sukuna?"

"uh huh?" he looks up from your pussy, where your bodies are connecting with strings of your wetness, to your pretty face.

oh god, your gorgeous face.

and for once, you don't look scared of him.

you're smiling at him; you look excited.

fuck that's got him going more than he'd like to admit.

"thank you.." your eyes sparkle with that pretty smile and he swears he can't help that feeling deep in his chest.

he supresses an eye roll and nudges his forehead against yours.

you know you better watch it with the romantic stuff or he might change his mind.

but for now, he's got you. and you've got him.

he presses on your thigh, opening your legs wider, and he starts moving his hips.

the smooth, thick tip of his cock glides into you.

"fuck-" he sighs over your lips, feeling as shocked as you.

that shouldn't have been so easy.

but it was.

"well done, baby.." he coos, rewarding you with a tender kiss.

"think you can take a little more for me?"

a little? sure.

"uh huh," you nod, eager to please this kind, sweet side of your man.

"good.." the tone of his voice makes you melt into the cushions that he placed under you, for your comfort.

your body feels so open to him right now, he pushes a little further.

hips sliding smoothly closer.

"nghh- ah-" the noises come out of your throat without thinking, your free hand landing on the back of his head where the dark hair of his undercut meets his neck.

"good?" he pushes you to answer, his smirk growing wider.

and you can't lie to him, it feels amazing.

"y-yes.."

he can feel your hand squeezing on his and he knows you're ready for more.

a few more inches.

"thaat's it, baby" he eases it in, your legs opening wider and hooking around his back.

god he thought he understood what you liked so well?

hot, passionate, rough sex.

yeah, it's great. it's fun.

but every now and then even the kinkiest girls need a break.

"nearly all the way, sweetheart" his voice finds your ears again when you're feeling so close to bliss already.

he peers down between your bodies, getting hot and messy, his abs rubbing against your soft, plushy stomach, and he realises how close you are to taking him whole.

the sight of that makes his cock swell and throb, sending another wave of pure ecstasy through you.

"easy, easy baby--"

he draws in a sharp breath and you can see him struggling, teeth sinking into his lower lip.

"can feel you squeezing me... tight.." he moans.

"gonna.. go all the way in now, ok?"

you nod and he leans down over you, pressing his lips to your neck with his arms caging you in. your hands find his shoulders, his back, his hair, anything to grab onto.

"uhh- baby.."

he chokes out, feeling the warmth of your pussy over his whole cock.

"took all of me.. fuck.."

his hips start moving slowly, in tandem with the strings of disbelieving sighs that flow out of his mouth.

"you're not hurting, huh?"

he checks, pulling himself all the way out before sinking right back in again when you shake your head.

he sees your eyes roll back, your hand clasping over your mouth to suppress a loud whimper.

"d-doesn't hurt- at all--" you manage to get out between your heavy, pleasured breaths as he eases himself in and out of you.

"good," he looks down at your expression- seeing his girl like this makes his heart swell. he needs to tell you.

"good girl"

that will have to do for now.

feeling your whole body reaction to his praise is good enough.

next time maybe he'll surprise you with a few more words...

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #female reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #sukuna x you

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chelseeebe · 9 months ago

Text

too sweet (for me)

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of violence and drugs. eddie is a dick but not when it comes to r <333 :} female!reader

eddie munson had been hardened by life. how could one night possibly demolish all of the walls he had spent so long building?

a/n: sorry for being mia again lol i am trying i swear!! i have another eddie fic coming that i love and probably the other parts to the steve zombie au! i’m usually never busy but these last few weeks have been wild

read part two here.

the club is too loud, too busy and too sweaty. eddie wasn’t a fan, never had been.

he squeezes past the crowd, grumbling to himself as he goes. eddie preferred to be in bed by three. his mom was very spiritual and had drilled into him that nothing good could come out of being awake at the witching hour.

something or someone knocks into him, or vice versa, he can’t really tell. it’s too dark and he’s had too much to even really care.

“watch it,” you snap, twisting around to send the dirtiest glare.

“what the fuck? you bumped into me,” he shouts over the loud thumping beat. immediately wishing he could swallow his words, noticing your eyes narrow, sizing him up. you’re the prettiest girl in this place, the only one he’s even looked at twice and now you hated him.

“whatever asshole,” you snarl, before continuing your way to the busy bar.

eddie hesitates for a moment before shoving through the path you’d made, angering another ten people on his way. he didn’t care, that couldn’t be your only impression of him.

he catches up, squeezing into the tiny space next to you, leaning against the sticky marble as you wait patiently.

his hand brushes your arm, earning another sly glance, face screwing up as you realise he’d tailed you to the bar.

“sorry,” he starts, not giving you the opportunity to tell him to fuck off first. “i wanted to apologise.. i was rude,” tongue resting on his bottom lip, appreciating the new found lighting and how it made you glow.

“you were,” smiling pointedly, eyes trailing down his chest, “but you can buy me a drink to make up for it.”

eddie stares, mouth agape at your brutal, up-front attitude before it turns to a tiny smirk, “i think that’s fair,” honestly he admired it. the only girl in here worth a second glance.

“vodka,” you add, making room for him to order.

he takes one last admiring look at you before turning to the bartender.

you tunnel your way back through the crowd, your friends long gone by now. eddie didn’t mind keeping you company, not one bit.

his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you gently back towards him. rightfully earning another scathing glare as you stop, inches in front of him.

“you’re not gonna even tell me your name?” he leans in, smirking as he does.

your lips brush against his ear, name soft as silk as you mutter into his hair. it sends shivers down his spine, wanting your lips on his ear and his neck.

“eddie,” he replies, resting his hand on the small of your back, keeping you close in the packed club.

“are you a dancer, eddie?” the way his name rolls off of your tongue makes him unfathomably crazy.

“not really,” he mumbles, tongue poking out of his lips.

“too bad,” your smirk, pulling towards the bustling dance floor before he can argue against it.

he didn’t like clubbing nor dancing but if you insist, he couldn’t say no.

the music ripples around him, hazy when all he can focus on is you and the way your hips twist in time to the beat. you’re not even trying and yet he’s completely encapsulated by your body.

there’s an attempt at dancing along with you, though he’s not any good. itching to just place his hands on your waist and let you guide him.

the purple light catches your eye as you move closer, eddie’s eyes latched onto you the entire time.

“you’re really not a dancer, are ya’?” you lean in to whisper.

“can’t help it, i’m distracted,” he purrs, daring to place his hand on the small of your back.

you purse your lips, keeping whatever snarky comment to yourself.

fuck it.

“d’you wanna get out of here?” eddie asks, “i know a place.”

your brow quirks, “hm? how do i know you won’t kidnap me?”

he tilts his head, meeting your eye, “you’ll just have to trust me,” offering his hand for you to take, eager to get you out of this club.

really, he’d go anywhere if it meant he could look at you properly without getting elbowed in the back by sweaty drunks.

you hesitate for a split second, which he supposes is fair, before placing your hand in his, permission to lead you from the dance floor and out into the chilly night.

your arms wrap around yourself, shivering in the cold.

eddie doesn’t hesitate, taking his jacket off and placing it around your shoulders. “it’s not far from here.. we can walk?”

your eyes narrow once more, pulling his jacket tighter, “lead the way, eddie.”

he knows you’re trying to taunt him, maybe rile him up a little and by god is it working. taking your hand once more as you start the walk to his apartment, anticipating coursing through his veins.

the elevator ride up to his floor is hell, fingers twitching to touch you. he’d do it too, if you were alone. plagued with one of his neighbours just trying to get home as you hang off of his arm.

eddie’s thankful his floor is first, losing the will to not just grab you right then and there.

your mouth falls open, eyes flitting around the apartment he definitely didn’t pay someone else to decorate for him.

“you live here?”

eddie didn’t grow up around money. he lived in a trailer for most of his life, cramped into the tiny home with his uncle in some dead end town until he finally found the nerve to move himself to chicago.

there were dreams of a music career that wilted away pretty quickly after he realised that there were a hundred and one other screwed up teens just like him, all wanting the same thing.

selling drugs wasn’t exactly his chosen path but he’d sold a little weed in high school and found he wasn’t awful at it and now here he was.

with more money than he knew what to do with and a reputation for being a hard ass.

he doesn’t entertain your amazement, sidling over to you with his hands already finding their place to your waist.

“the bedroom’s even better,” eddie smirks, feeling your fingers twist around his t-shirt.

“go ‘head,” half-smile on your pretty lips.

your body brushes against his as you trail behind, not wanting to waste another second. he hasn’t even kissed you yet, has no idea how addicting you’ll taste, the slight hint of vanilla in your smudged lipgloss.

expertly twisting you around, stumbling over just slightly before he catches you, planting his lips on yours, manoeuvring your entwined bodies around the darkened room.

he’s done this dance a hundred times, but something about you feels different. you’re mailable, trusting in his hands to guide you to the bed while your hands sit atop his shoulders.

falling back onto the mattress, tugging him down atop of your body, fingers clawing at his collar while his hands roam your body, grabbing at your hips and waist.

eddie haphazardly reaches for the lamp, disconnecting your lips for a brief moment before the orange hue fills the room.

you groan in response, sprawled out on the mattress underneath him.

“i wanna see you,” he remarks, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before he kisses you properly again. a full battle between teeth and tongues, barely catching against one another, lips wet with each other.

you sigh softly into his mouth when his hand travels beneath your dress, sliding between your aching thighs, panties already wet and begging to be torn off.

he doesn’t though, wanting to draw this out just a tiny bit longer, removing his fingers from your heat to toy with the hem of your dress.

“fuck,” you gasp, breaking away from his lips, “don’t be mean,” swollen bottom lip jutting out to make it all that much worse.

“okay,” eddie laughs quietly, “i’m done,” sticking to his word as your dress comes down in one rough tug, grunting as he does so.

he sits up on his knees, admiring the sight of your quivering body below. “worth it,” he remarks, tearing off his own t-shirt, and launching it across the room somewhere.

his jeans are next, shaking them off of his leg as they land on the floor with a soft thud.

your hand instinctively covers your chest, shying away from his hungry gaze.

“nuhuh,” eddie bites, pulling your arm away, pinning it underneath his as he comes back to your level, hovering just above. “don’t do that.”

you blink, pulling him closer with your free hand. the cat and mouse routine had been going on far too long, even for him. feeling your heat against his cock, almost painful to the touch as it strains his boxers.

“well if you hurried up..” you start, tilting your chin towards him with a tiny smirk.

eddie laughs loudly, yanking your panties down abruptly, “alright sweetheart, i hear ya,” returning his hand to between your thighs, spreading you open with his middle finger before sliding the digit in.

you huff in response, mouth falling open as that melodic tone he’s been waiting for falls from your lips, dancing around his ears.

your head falls back against the soft pillow, opening your legs further as he shifts fully in between, biting down onto his bottom lip.

“that better?” pumping his finger between your slick folds, your breath quivering with every move.

you nod quickly, readjusting your grip on his shoulder, taking a deep breath when his thumb finds your clit.

he can’t hold off any longer, pulling his fingers out and tugging his boxers down, cock springing up against his stomach.

“mhm,” he groans, teasing your sopping cunt with the tip of his already leaking cock, lapping up every last whine of appreciation you let slip.

eddie slides in, staggered breaths as he pauses, adjusting his position to allow his hand to find your hand, fingers intertwining while you huff into his ear.

“shit,” he utters, slowly thrusting his hips, gripping your hand tighter, pressing you into the mattress.

he wouldn’t have fucked around so much if he knew this is what you’d feel like.

your thighs squeeze around his waist, the soft skin encasing him. goading him on with your sweet breathless whines, repeating his name like gospel.

working his way to the hilt, debating why he could just sit there for a while with his cock buried deep inside of you or not.

your fingers twist around his curls, gently tugging on the messy mop atop of his head.

whimpering into the tiny shared space between your faces, your eyes fighting to stay open. cheeks warm and flushed, incoherent babbling trailing from your mouth.

“you.. you feel fuckin’ insane,” eddie growls, wishing he could swallow that familiar twist in his stomach, keep this going forever and ever.

the air is warm, filthy sounds of his skin against yours fill the room as you desperately move your hips against his. loosely connecting your lips in a hazy kiss, he can feel you tighten around him, whimpers strained and needy as you near your orgasm.

“ahh fuck,” eddie mewls, burying his head into the delicate skin of your neck, leaving lazy kisses in the crook. hoping he can hold out for just a minute more while you tremble around him. coming undone right beneath his body.

you hum into his ear, running your fingers along his scalp, pulling gently on his hair.

eddie can’t stop himself any longer, pulling his cock out of your cunt before he cums, letting his release cover your thigh instead.

your nails continue to trace through his hair while his mouths babbles a bunch of nonsensical bullshit into your neck, surely condemned by a life in hell for the blasphemous shit he was saying.

coaxing his head out of the comfort of your skin to gaze into his tired eyes, your heartbeats coinciding with one another.

instead of saying anything, you grin, laughing quietly to yourself. eddie thinks you’re crazy and yet, he’s sure he might’ve just fallen in love.

eddie feels like a creep, watching as you sleep, your leg twisted somewhere between his making him terrified to even think about moving.

he doesn’t want to startle you, in fact he doesn’t really want this to end. he knows that once you wake, he’ll be lucky to see you again.

maintaining relationships wasn’t exactly a skill he possessed.

you stir sometime later, feeling your way up his chest as you come around. maybe you’d think he was a freak, maybe you’d regret it and decide to file a restraining order or something.

“morning,” you croak, lips plump with sleep, eyes barely open as they peep at the other side of the bed.

“hi,” wanting to cringe at his complete lack of charm.

“you talk in your sleep,” you say pointedly, shadows of a smile on your lips.

“oh really? what was i saying?”

you shrug, “something about a fire,” scrunching your nose up. idyllic as you bask in the morning light, a real picture of beauty.

“a fire? that’s weird, i was dreaming about you,” undecided whether it were too much too soon.

you curl away from him, shying into the pillow when a bang at the door interrupts everything, damn near rattling his entire apartment.

you look to him again, confusion threading your brows together, “who’s that?” worry seeping through your tone.

“i don’t know,” well, he had a pretty good idea of who it probably was and he most definitely didn’t want to deal with that right now.

they bang again, eddie unfurling his arm from your waist, “i’ll be two minutes,” frowning to himself as he pulls his boxers on.

as expected, gareth and jeff stand outside, gormless as their eyes fall to his bare legs.

“woah,” gareth exclaims, eyes wide.

“what d’you two want?”

“you not gonna invite us in?” jeff presses, still marvelling at his legs.

“no.”

“why?” gareth peers into the apartment, “who’ve you got in there?”

“your mom,” eddie quips, “why are you here?”

the two idiots share a look, half-offended, half trying to figure out if eddie was telling the truth or not.

“well-“ they come closer, “we’ve got that shipment.. for the thing,” brows wiggling, “couple’a weeks and it’ll be in.”

this leads to eddie closing the door further round, in fear of you overhearing. he’s not sure how well received that’d be on your first morning together.

“shh,” he hisses, looking around the very empty corridor, “you couldn’t have told me this later?”

they shake their heads in unison, “murray said to let you know, no phones.. no paper trail.”

eddie searches both of their blank faces before nodding, “alright.. alright, you can go now.”

they oblige but not before jeff grabs his crotch, winking at eddie which makes him slightly uncomfortable and letting out an almost inaudible have fun before disappearing into the elevator.

the urge to knock their heads together had never been stronger, returning to his apartment to find you stood in the middle of his bedroom, staring at the pictures on his dresser.

“i used to be cute, right?” he knows exactly which one you’re looking at, startling at the sound of his voice.

you turn, still holding onto the frame, “is that your mom?”

“mhm,” he hums, taking the frame from your grasp, “she..” clearing his throat, “she died when i was younger,” tracing his thumb over the image of her crazy hair.

“oh,” you frown, looking at him with pitiful eyes, “i’m sorry.”

he shakes his head, hair falling out of the loose bun he’d thrown up, “don’t apologise,” placing the photo back in it’s rightful place, “she was sick,” turning to you with his half-moon eyes.

he wishes he hadn’t even said it, the look on your face was too woeful, especially after the large grin you’d had plastered on it just this morning.

eddie sniffs, jumping to action, “get dressed,” he practically orders, wanting nothing more than to change the subject, “we’re going out,” telling, rather than asking.

“where?”

he shrugs, opening the large closet which mostly consisted of plain black tees and his jeans.

“i don’t have any clothes.. or my toothbrush, give me an hour and-“

interrupted by a shirt flying over, just about catching it before it lands on the ground, “wear mine, there’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom,” eddie nods, sliding into his own clothes.

you stare dumbfounded at the cotton, before glancing back at him, “uh.. i don’t- what if people think..”

he turns, smile already peaking through, “if people think what? that we fucked? oh no,” riddled with sarcasm.

“you’re not funny,” you pout though you shimmy into the t-shirt, “i didn’t mean that i just..” trailing off into silence.

eddie’s eyes widen, something about seeing you in his shirt invigorated something within.

“don’t look at me like that,” shying away though there was really no need. he’d seen it all already.

“i can’t help it,” he remarks, standing wide-eyed.

your eyes roll in return, turning away to slip into his sweats though that makes everything worse. eddie instantly jumps to grab you, squeezing your arms against your sides, eliciting a high pitched squeal from you.

“maybe breakfast can wait,” growling into your ear, tripping over your legs as he barrels towards the bed.

eddie sighs, eyeing the seemingly stagnant clock on the dash. he knows you get off at three, toying with the idea of telling you he’s coming to get you or just turning up outside your building.

he figures he’s close enough that he won’t bother, shifting into drive. you’d only seen each other yesterday but he couldn’t get enough.

girls came and went in his life, never sticking around long enough for him to really get to know them. it felt different this time, he was itching to be with you, this constant need to be near you, with you. it scared him deep down, turning his stomach at the thought of someone actually meaning something to him.

he watches the door like a hawk, positioned outside so that you can’t possibly miss him.

it’s five after three by the time you emerge from the grand door, closely followed by who he assumes are your co-workers. eyes narrowing at the sight of the spindly guy following behind.

eddie clocks the exact moment you spot him, ducking your head as you break away from the group and slide into the passenger seat.

“what’re you doing here?” you flush, though your smile is evident, creeping onto his own face.

“i can’t come pick you up from work?”

you shrug, still coy as your co-workers dawdle, staring into the car with eager eyes.

“why’re you so shy all of a sudden? not even gonna kiss me?” eddie teases, feeling the eyes of your colleagues hot on his face.

“shut up,” you scoff, rolling your eyes.

he takes this as a challenge, leaning over the centre console to press his forehead to yours, waiting for your approval before embarrassing you any further.

your lips lock onto his before he can think about it, deciding to turn the innocent kiss into what he can only describe as a sloppy, over exaggerated makeout session. something similar to his first attempts at kissing.

you pull back, groaning in disgust, averting your eyes from the nosy gaggle of colleagues that still stood gawping.

mission accomplished.

eddie grins before speeding away, not bothering to acknowledge them another time.

you want to be annoyed, eddie can tell. tutting in your seat as if you didn’t enjoy that just as much as he did.

“who was that? your boyfriend?” only half-joking.

there’s another sigh, “i wish,” as you mess around with the dials on the dash.

eddie would normally smack your hand away but for you, he couldn’t.

an absolute sucker for the way your fingers danced around the tortoise shell interior, making yourself comfortable in his car like you should.

“you’ve never been to brunch?” you fret, looking at him with pure amazement over the table.

“no,” eddie chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee, “why would i?”

“why wouldn’t you?” smiling wide.

there’s been a lot of firsts for eddie these past few weeks.

you’d dragged him for a walk around the park in front of his complex, perplexed that he’d never even bothered. he’d been into a florist for the first time, hand picking some overpriced bouquet just for you.

he shakes his head, shrugging. there wasn’t any time for brunch when you had to move kilos of cocaine for rich aristocrats.

“you don’t live,” you scoff, sipping on your 11am mimosa as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

it’s ridiculous how soft you make him feel. he’d do brunch in some gentrified neighbourhood every day if it meant you smiled at him like that.

everything about you is too sweet, your clothes, the perfume you doused yourself in, the lipstick stains you’d leave behind on shared cigarettes. even last week when you’d made him stop for some cat food for the tiny stray that hung around your garden. who does that?

“some of us have to work, sweetheart,” eddie teases, shuffling around on the far-too-fancy chair.

“i work,” you hit back, “only difference is that what i do, isn’t illegal,” whispering the last part of your sentence, smug as you take a drink.

he looks on in pure awe. the fact that you could speak to him like that and yet still end up his favourite person was a miracle in and of itself.

“d’you want me to pay for your fuckin’ brunch or not?”

“i can pay f’myself,” you huff.

“but i don’t want you to.”

your eyes glint, pursing your lips to the side, “i don’t want to either.”

eddie’s already trembling in the car, murray droning on about the importance of gloves next to him. this all seemed like a good idea a couple of weeks ago and now his stomach flipped with every turn.

that was before he had something to lose, before he met you.

maybe weeks of you loosening him up had ruined him. the soft life was a dream in comparison to this. the complete fear coursing through his veins was enough to make him never want to leave the serene calm of your arms ever again.

a couple of years ago he was just some kid selling weed to the losers that hung around the block and now he’s clutching a pistol, contemplating whether he’d survive if he just jumped out of the car.

murray wouldn’t let him. he’d find him, make him pay for being such a pussy.

eddie’s eyes fall shut, head lolling back against the seat, conjuring up images of you in his head. if he had to do it, he also had to make it out alive.

for you.

a ringing bellows through his head, fumbling with the keys as his fingers shake.

he couldn’t remember if you were at work tonight, hoping you wouldn’t have to see this. get pulled into his ridiculous life.

eddie stumbles through the door, making a beeline for the bathroom when your voice calls out from the kitchen.

“eds?”

choosing to ignore it, focussed on the churning in his stomach and the need to empty whatever was rumbling around in there.

it all comes out into the toilet, heaving and retching as you round the corner completely perplexed by whatever was going on.

he’s slumped on the cold floor, gasping for air when you speak, “eddie?” terror in your voice.

“what happened?”

eddie barely looks up, focused on not throwing up again. he can’t explain it, there’s no words to tell you what happened without incriminating himself.

your eyes fall to the red splatters on his shirt, the cuts that littered his knuckles and the purple hue that had started taking over his cheek.

any idiot could put two and two together.

he’s been cryptic about what he does for work, never saying too much but just enough for you to understand. he didn’t want to tell you, to have to drag you into all this. that wasn’t fair.

for a moment, he thinks you’re about to run out of the door and never look back. he wouldn’t blame you if you did.

instead, you take charge, stepping into the bathroom with your hands resting on your hips, “get up,” you order, tugging at his arm.

he doesn’t. still partially curled around the toilet bowl, confused about your attitude.

“i said get up,” barking again, holding onto his elbow with an iron clad grip.

eddie obliges this time around, shakily standing up. he feels like a child, waiting for you to tell him what to do, to make him feel normal again.

you pull him to the sink, running the warm water, scrubbing his hands with yours. the water runs a murky colour, red and brown alike.

“get under your nails,” you add, lathering the soap on his palms, laser focused on his hands rather than the sorry state that had overcome him.

he does as you ask, scrubbing under his nails. standing aloof when you turn the water off.

your hands find the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head, “off,” nodding towards his jeans.

it’s a little unsettling that you know exactly what to do, but eddie’s not complaining. grateful for your presence, for your forward thinking. who knows what he would’ve done if you weren’t here. he thinks he probably would’ve handed himself straight into the cops.

you hold a bag open for him, gesturing for his clothes to go in. “we’ll.. we can get rid of them tomorrow,” eventually meeting his eyes again.

he nods, allowing you to guide him through to his bedroom. pliable, completely at your mercy. if you told him that jumping off of bridge would help, he’d do it.

you dump the bag of evidence on the floor before pulling out a fresh shirt and sweatpants, flinging them on the bed.

“get dressed.. i’ll get you some water,” before flouncing out of the room.

eddie hated himself for dragging you into his life like this. it was always supposed to be something separate, something isolated from your relationship.

he’s barely dressed by the time you return, feeling like a pitiful mess. if the look on your face were anything to go by, he looked like it too.

“eddie,” you begin, that same sad tone you’d had when he told you about his mom, “i don’t..” stepping closer, “need to know what happened- i don’t really want to know either but.. you can’t let it fuck you up,” looking at him earnestly, which honestly hurts more.

he nods, “i know,” because he did. “i’m sorry for-,” he sighs, “for getting you involved, i never wanted you to see this.”

you respond by throwing your arms around his waist, squishing your cheek against his chest, “don’t.. don’t start with that.”

his chin finds the top of your head, nestling into your hair, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

it’s a nice type of silence, the air heavy with unspoken words but he thinks that’s okay.

you understand anyway.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson one shot

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v6quewrlds · 1 month ago

Text

❝ darling, j. bellingham. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: your boyfriend jude has been nothing but sweet the entire time you've been together. who knew a number 10 jersey with his name on the back would affect him so much?

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: first lil fic for jude <3. partially inspired by the 3-0 win over greece, but if it happened at wembley instead. really tried with the brit slang, someone pls confirm if it's shirt instead of jersey lol. day seven of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, trent being trent, oral fixation (kinda), oral sex (69), american writing english people.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: jude bellingham x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.2k.

"You look stunning babes!" Tolami practically shrieked as your approached the cluster of WAGs, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The group of stylish women, all dressed to the nines in various shades of red and white to support the team, were huddled together, greeting each other after several months away at their partners' respective clubs. You had gone all out for today's match, your nails painted in the team's colors and your hair styled in perfectly poised waves that highlighted your cheekbones and the delicate gold hoops that danced against your neck.

"Thanks, love," you replied with a warm smile, giving your friend a quick hug. "I couldn't be caught looking anything less than leng next to you."

You glanced around the exclusive VIP area, your eyes scanning the pitch where the players were beginning their warm-ups. The electric atmosphere of the stadium was palpable, the throb of excitement pulsing through the air. The scent of freshly cut grass and the distant murmur of the crowd grew louder as you and Tolami took their seats.

During the match, your eyes never left Jude. His agility and precision on the pitch were mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride watching him command the midfield. Each time he looked up at your section, his gaze searching for yours, you felt a flutter in your stomach. When he scored the game's second goal with a powerful strike from just outside the box, the women erupted in cheers, and you were on your feet, your hands covering your mouth in shock and delight.

After the final whistle, the team huddled together, their faces a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. The crowd's roar was deafening as the players began to make their way towards the tunnel, and your heart raced in anticipation. He raised his hand up, gesturing for you to wait, and you nodded, your cheeks heating up under the ooh's of the other girls.

Once the team had disappeared into the depths of the stadium, you made your way down to the VIP lounge. The thrill of victory still hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of sweat and the tang of energy drinks. You chatted idly with Tolami and Megan as you waited for the players to emerge from the locker room, your laughter echoing off the walls. When Jude finally appeared, Trent Alexander-Arnold by his side, your shoulder relaxed in relief.

"Y/N," the Liverpool man called out to you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "How's Jude holding up with that No Nut November bet? You keeping him honest, yeah?"

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a sigh at the juvenile banter that was a staple of the footballers' friendship. "Unfortunately, he's been a saint."

"It's only a matter of time before Trent gives up," Jude said, his own grin spreading as he approached the group of you. "Don't jinx it."

You playfully swiped at him, your eyes lighting up. "You know I believe in you."

Jude leaned down to kiss your cheek. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

As the two of you walked out of the stadium, the cool evening air a welcome contrast to the heat of the game, Jude's hand found yours, his grip firm and possessive. The short drive to your flat seemed to take forever, the silence between you charged with unspoken thoughts. The streets of London were alive with fans, their cheers and chants a distant backdrop to your own private world.

Once inside, you slipped out of your shoes with a sigh of relief, and Jude's eyes followed your every move. He couldn't take his gaze off the England crest and his name emblazoned on the back of your shirt.

"You know, it's weird," he began, his voice a little rough. "Seeing you with my name on your back... it's like you're mine. Like, really mine."

You turned to face him, a smirk playing on your lips. "Is that all it takes to make me yours?"

Jude took a step closer, his eyes darkening. "You know it's more than that, babe." He reached out, his fingers tracing the letters of his surname on the fabric of your shirt. "But seeing you wear this, supporting me with my name on your back, it just makes me want to show you off."

You felt a thrill run through you at his words. You stepped closer, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "What's stopping you, Bellingham?"

Jude didn't need any further encouragement. He pulled you into his arms, kissing you with a hunger that surprised you. His hands roamed over your body, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, the warmth of his skin melting through the cool material of the shirt. You stumbled into the bedroom, your kisses growing more urgent as you went.

You broke away, your breathing heavy, and looked at him with a glint of challenge in your eyes. "You know, if you want to keep that bet with Trent..."

Jude's smoldering gaze stuck to your face as he peeled the shirt over your head, revealing the lacy lingerie you had chosen just in case. "We don't have to tell him," he murmured against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly as his voice rumbled deliciously down your spine.

With a laugh that was half moan, you stepped away from him, slipping out of your jeans. "You're so full of it," you said, your voice breathless with excitement. "You can't just cheat your way out of a bet. What's the point?"

Jude's eyes never left yours as he shed his own clothes, his eyes dark with desire. "Who said anything about cheating?" he murmured, advancing on you with a predatory grace. "I'm just saying, a man's got needs, and you're looking too good. Who am I to resist what's mine?"

You felt a shiver of excitement run down your spine as Jude reached out, his fingertips tracing the edge of your bra. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, the air between the two of you crackling with sexual tension. "You're insatiable," you whispered, your voice a little shaky.

"Just for you," Jude said, his voice a gruff promise. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he kissed you again, deep and demanding. His touch was possessive, leaving no doubt in your mind that he meant every word. Your own hands roamed over his muscular chest, nails scraping lightly against his skin.

With a growl, he picked you up, carrying you to the bed as if you weighed nothing at all. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your body fitting against his like they were two pieces of a puzzle. The bedroom was a blur of movement as you tumbled onto the bed, the soft sheets contrasting with the hardness of his body. Jude's kisses grew more insistent, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth as his hands moved to the clasp of your bra.

The sound of the fabric giving way was lost in your muffled moans. His thumbs grazed your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, your skin flushing with desire. "Jude," you gasped, your voice a whimper of need. He broke the kiss, his eyes raking over your exposed chest with a look that seemed to blister your skin.

Without wasting a moment, Jude's mouth found your breasts, his teeth grazing the sensitive peaks before his tongue swirled around them. Your breath hitched, your fingernails digging into his back as the sensation washed over you. "Jude, more, please," you begged, your voice a throaty whisper. Jude's mouth continued its movements as he complied, his teeth tugging gently before his mouth closed around your nipple, suckling with a fervor that had your back arching off the bed.

Jude's hands roamed your body, his thumbs dipping into your waistband to tease the sensitive flesh just above your hips. Your hands weren't idle either, exploring the planes of his back, your nails scraping against the firm muscles as you pulled him closer.

With a sudden jolt of energy, you rolled the two of you over so you were on top, straddling him. "My turn," you whispered, your eyes sparkling with arousal. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw before you leaned down to kiss him, your teeth grazing his bottom lip before your tongue darted out to taste him. His hands moved to your hips, his grip tightening as you began to rock against him, feeling his length grow beneath you.

Jude's breath hitched as you kissed along his neck, your teeth scraping the sensitive skin just enough to make him shiver. He could feel the heat building between you two, the need growing more intense with every passing moment. "Serena," he groaned, his voice thick with want.

With a wicked smile, you slid off him, your eyes studying his face as you reached for his boxers. You took your time, enjoying the way his body reacted to your every touch. Finally, you pulled them down, revealing his hard length. You took him in your hand, stroking him gently, watching his reaction with a sense of power that thrilled you to the core.

Jude's eyes rolled back, his hips bucking upward as you touched him. "Fuck," he muttered, his hand coming up to cover yours, guiding your movements. "You're killing me, babe."

Your smile grew wider as you leaned into him, your breath hot against his skin. "Good things come to those who wait," you sang under your breath, your teeth grazing his earlobe. You kissed a trail down his chest, your tongue tracing the lines of his abs before finally reaching his cock. You took him into your mouth, the velvet heat of your lips wrapping around him, your tongue swirling in a way that made him groan.

His hands tangled in your hair as you took him deeper, your movements deliberate and teasing. He could feel the tension in his body winding tighter and tighter, the urge to push you down and fuck you senseless growing stronger with every passing second. "Babe, hold on," he ground out, his voice tight with restraint. "Sit on my face, 69. Wanna taste you."

With a light giggle, you complied, straddling his head. The scent of your arousal filled the room, making his mouth water as his tongue found your clit. You gasped, your movements faltering as you focused on the delicious sensation of his mouth on you. Your hand stroked him in time with his tongue, the sound of your moans mixing with the wetness of your desire.

Your body began to tense, your movements growing more frantic as you felt the orgasm building within you. Jude's hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he continued to devour you, his tongue flicking and swirling in a pattern that had you seeing stars. "Oh god," you whispered, your voice a hoarse plea.

Jude felt your thighs tighten around his head, your body shaking with the beginnings of climax. With a triumphant groan, he pushed his tongue deeper, feeling your muscles spasm as you came. Your hips rocked against his face, your tongue still working his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, and with a final, desperate stroke, he too reached the edge, his body tensing as he released into your mouth.

You sat up, swiping your tongue across your lips, a smug smile playing on your face as you turned to face your boyfriend. Jude all but whimpered as your mouth fell open to reveal you had swallowed him completely. With a giggle, you watched as Jude lay there, his chest heaving, his eyes closed in bliss.

"All this over a shirt?" you teased, your voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and amusement.

"It's not just the shirt," he murmured, his eyes finally opening to meet yours. "It's knowing that you're mine, that you're supporting me in every way possible." He reached up, his fingers tracing the outline of your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "That I'm the one who gets to take you home after games like this."

The words sent a thrill through you, and you leaned down to kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. Jude's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, his hands roaming over your body in a silent show of strength and possession.

Your bodies were slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in unison as you broke away, panting for air. Jude rolled you over again, his muscles flexing as he positioned himself above you, his cock still hard and demanding. "Round two?" he asked, his voice a seductive purr.

Your eyes widened, your chest heaving with the aftershocks of pleasure. "You're unbelievable," you whispered, but you didn't protest as he nudged your thighs apart. Jude's gaze was intense, his eyes dark with lust as he settled between your legs, his cock pressing against your entrance. You felt the heat of him, the promise of more pleasure, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer.

#&. cassie writes.#&. nnn masterlist.#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x you #black!fem!reader #x black fem reader #black!reader #black!oc #x black reader

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sadbicth · 1 year ago

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israel posted a video of them giving water bottles to palestinians on a beach, then destroyed their luggage and shot at them after they stopped recording.

israel posted a photo of one of their soldiers "assisting" with an elderly man, then they shot him twice in the back and killed him.

in 2015, the idf posted pr photos of an israeli soldier giving water to an elderly palestinian woman, only for them to execute her after the photo was taken.

in 2005, an idf soldier emptied his rifle into a 13-year-old palestinian schoolgirl. he said he would have done the same thing if she was 3-years-old. he was acquitted of all charged.

israel claimed that hamas beheaded 40 israeli babies and then a month later cut off power to a palestinian hospital where premature babies were on incubators.

israel bombed a group of children collecting rainwater.

israel shot and killed two palestinian children playing with their scooter.

israel shot a hard of hearing girl in the face with a stun grenade and broke her jaw.

israel is using bombs with blades that are designed to cause maximum damage to the person in range.

israel forced medical workers at al-Nasr medical center to leave babies in incubators in order to evacuate the hospital they were bombing.

israel turned off power to hospitals in palestine, forcing nurses and doctors to use their phone flashlights when treating patients.

israel raised their flag over Al Shifa hospital.

israel has blown up the chambers of the palestinian legislative council.

israel targeted a "suspicious vehicle containing several terrorists”, meanwhile the only people in the car were three girls, ages 10, 12, and 14, their grandmother, and their mother. the only survivor was the three girls' mother.

israel planted a copy of mein kampf in a children's bedroom in a gazan house they claim hamas was hiding in.

israel poured fake blood onto the floor of an israeli child's bedroom and claimed hamas killed them.

israeli soldiers posted a video of them dancing on gazan graves.

israel posted a video showing a calendar in a palestinian children's hospital was a hamas guard list because it was written in arabic.

israel was using white phosphorus on hospitals.

israel bombed a refugee camp.

israel has burned olive trees in palestine.

israel has put cement into the water supply of palestine.

israel claimed that they found tunnels under Al Shifa hospital, only for it to be exposed that those tunnels are actually in sweden.

israel built a bunker and command room under Al Shifa hospital in 1983, only for them to now say that they are hamas tunnels.

israeli police arrested an israeli high school teacher, who posted on facebook expressing sympathy with palestinian civilians who have been killed.

israeli soldiers filmed themselves throwing a stun grenade into a palestinian mosque.

we are witnessing a genocide in real time framed under the guise of stopping hamas. israel has been terrorizing palestine for as long as israel has existed, but their access to technology and social media has made it much easier to fool people into supporting them.

meanwhile, noah schnapp is posting that zionism is sexy and celebrities are standing with israel. just absolutely twisted shit.

edit: for those who would like sources, my twitter is alliiesmith. i have retweeted everything i’ve mentioned. i apologize for not providing this sooner

edit 2: i’ve had some people in the replies and reposts pointing out that linking my twitter seems like promotion. i just wanted to clear up that that was not my intention. i’ve been retweeting resources and news much faster than i’m able to add to this post, and i thought that my twitter profile could be something of a hub for information. i don’t care if you follow me, but i think scrolling through and seeing what i’ve retweeted could be helpful.

#*#allie talks #israel palestine conflict #israel #idf #palestine #gaza #west bank #politics #current events

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makeyoumine69 · 10 months ago

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Memory Reboot

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: You work at P&P, and one day you come into Bateman's office and witness his breakdown. Your attempts to comfort him only increase his obsession with you, and without realizing it, you push this man to his limits. The outburst that finds you both in a club called the Tunnel will change your lives forever and irrevocably.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, obsessive behavior, desperate-touch-starved Patrick, masturbating, oral sex (reader receiving), aggressive foreplay, dirty talk, body worship, teasing, biting, drug usage, pet names.

WORDS: 3k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent - Memory Reboot

A/N: This is for my dear @iron-flavored-lipgloss! It was such a pleasure for me to write this for you! Enjoy!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [EDIT]

Patrick Bateman. What kind of a mess was this man? Chaotic, impulsive, pathetic? Or all of the above?

Smirking, you went to his office to deliver some documents you needed him to sign, but when you got there, you noticed that Jean — his lovely blonde assistant — was absent and the door to his office was suspiciously half open. It was strange, to say the least, but you just shrugged your shoulders and stood there for a while when you heard a loud thud coming through the door — the sound almost made you jump in surprise. 'What the hell?' You wondered as you approached the door, turning around to see if Jean was coming, but there was no sign of her. With measured steps you got closer to the hole in the open door and just peeked in out of curiosity, but the scene you saw was not what you expected — Bateman, all flushed and covered in sweat, was storming around his office, his hands desperately fumbling with his tie as if it was choking him.

Your reaction was quick, and you didn't even notice as you opened the door and stepped inside. "Bateman? Are you okay?"

The man stopped shaking the moment he heard your voice and leaned down on his desk. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to get your signature on some of my docs when I heard you crying,” you grinned, watching his face go pale. "What's wrong, Bateman? Did you miss your facial?" The way he balled his hands made you laugh. "But really, did something happen?"

"Yes," Patrick replied, looking at you and running his hand through his disheveled hair. "I mean...no...nothing happened…" You saw his lips tremble a little each time he spoke. "Gimme the docs."

Frowning in confusion, you pulled out a napkin and handed it to him instead, meeting his scornful gaze. "You're sweating…” You placed the white piece of cloth on his desk, only now noticing a small jar that you were sure was full of pills. "Maybe I should ask Jean to bring you some coffee? You look really sick..."

"No!" Bateman suddenly blurted out, pointing his finger at you. "I asked Jean to take the day off..."

"Hey, hey, relax," you raised your hands defensively. "Relax, I was just trying to help."

Slowly, you placed the folder of documents on his wooden desk, which he grabbed almost immediately, and your hands touched for a brief moment, and Bateman didn't flinch, and neither did you.

"Take a seat." Patrick muttered incoherently.

"What?"

"Sit," he repeated irritably. "And wait."

His tumultuous behavior actually frightened you, but you did as he said and sat down in the chair opposite him. ‘My God, he really is mental, Tim was right.’

"What are these pills? Some vitamins?" You tried to keep the conversation alive, not even knowing why, as you watched his long, thin fingers floating across the pages.

Your question made him stop and look up at you. "That's none of your business, (y/n). I asked you to sit and wait, not ask me stupid questions."

‘Why does he look so cute when he's so angry?’ The thought brought a smile to your face, but then you zipped up your mouth theatrically and Bateman's office went silent for a while. And you used it to admire his perfect jawline, even though his brown hair was messy now, it looked so inviting to touch anyway.

"Is that all?" Bateman asked suddenly, arching his eyebrows and interrupting your train of thought.

"Uh, what?"

A prominent line appeared on Patrick's forehead — a testament to his annoyance. "Are you deaf or something?"

"Lemme see them," you pointed at the documents. "I want to make sure you put your cute sign on every page." Your playful tone made the line between Patrick's eyebrows even more noticeable. "I don't want to come back here."

Bateman didn't even try to jab back, his face still pale and sweaty, his eyes nothing but dark voids — oh, how fucking empty they were. Sighing heavily, Patrick raised his gaze when he heard the chair creak as you got up and walked around his desk. The sudden cut in the distance between the two of you was something Patrick didn't seem to be ready for, as his hands nervously gripped the armrests, but you pretended not to notice.

"We all feel down sometimes," you murmured over his ear, literally sensing the tension radiating from his body. "And that's okay." Placing your hand on his broad shoulder, you leaned down to look at the documents, surreptitiously inhaling the scent of his perfume mixed with his sweat. ‘Fuck, what am I doing?’

"I didn't know you had a part-time job as a therapist," he grumbled, examining your palm, wondering if he was going to kill you here and now, or keep you in here forever. "Listen, I have a reservation at Barcadia..."

"Mmm, Barcadia? Really?"

Bateman nodded and finally removed your hand. "Yes, I'm having lunch with Coutrney."

"I wonder what Luis thinks of these lunches with his fiancé." You picked up the folder and stepped back from his armchair. "You don't feel guilty about sleeping with Coutrney behind his back, do you?"

Gritting his perfectly white teeth, the brown-haired man abruptly got up from his desk and stormed toward you, surely intending to yell at you or say something rude, but the moment he stopped directly across from you and your eyes met, Bateman's expression suddenly became lost and confused. "Just stop," he finally managed to mutter. "Stop poking around in my fucking head…" As you noticed his pupils widening, things were no longer funny to you. "Understand?"

‘Well, maybe turning it into a joke is not a bad plan,’ you hummed and nodded. "Sure, Bateman," you sneered a little nervously. "I'm just reading this book Timothy gave me," you slowly turned and walked to the door. "The book about Human Psychology." That was surely a joke, but judging by the serious look Patrick gave you, he didn't seem to get it.

"Tim gave you... a book?" He repeated, frowning in confusion and disbelief.

When you opened the door, you paused for a second, wanting to say something smart at the end. "Oh yeah. Why don't you ask him about it? Maybe he can recommend some books about... human relationships or something." And with that, you smiled in satisfaction at seeing Bateman's face quiver with anger before you left his office, leaving him with a raging tempest in his chest.

Later that day, Patrick couldn't sleep because his mind was so full of different thoughts, but the only thing they had in common was that they were all connected to you. You, you, you. The sound of running water echoed off the marble walls of his lavish bathroom as Bateman stood in the shower, enjoying the way the strong streams of cold water hit his back. Huffing, Patrick desperately scrubbed his skin as if it would help him get rid of the thoughts of you that haunted him the day he first met you — you were so cheeky, so sweet, everyone loved you and wanted to hang out with you. How fucking cute. Patrick groaned as he felt a throb at the base of his hard cock, God, he felt like it was hard all the time and no sex could help him with that because all those people, they weren't you.

"Argh, fuck," he groaned as he finally allowed himself to touch his twitching dick and give it a few strokes.

"F-fuck..." Bateman pumped his length rhythmically, recoiling at the memories of today, the way you put your hand on his shoulder, the warmth of your breath on the back of his neck. And what would it feel like if you had placed your hand on his chest, or run it over his abdomen and then down?

"Uh, a-ahhh," the man moaned louder, shaking uncontrollably from the orgasm building at the base of his spine. "(Y/n), your hands feel so good on me, oh-shit…" Patrick had to lean against the shower wall as his legs buckled from the intense waves of ecstasy as he cummed with your name on his trembling lips, the water still running down his sculpted body, washing his cum off, but he was still so hard.

"Reading books on psychology," Bateman chuckled, tilting his head. "What an idiot." His nervous giggle bounced across the shower, but soon the laughter turned to a low wail. "Pathetic…”

Time flowed like sand through your fingers, and you couldn't even remember how many days had passed since your visit to Bateman's office, but since then something had changed between the two of you, but you both couldn't understand what exactly had changed, or maybe you didn't want to try to understand. To be fair, it was so fucking annoying that when you found out that Tim, David, Craig and Patrick were going to the Tunnel, you saw it as your chance to dot the T's, no matter how the evening would end.

When you arrived at the club, it was so crowded that it took you a while to find the group of yuppies sitting on the plush couches next to the dance floor, jamming to the music and drinking their cocktails.

As you approached, Craig was the first to spot you. "Woah, woah, look who it is!" His cheeky remark caused everyone to look at you, including Bateman, whose teeth were visibly clenched around his cigar at that moment.

"Hey, guys! Enjoying the music I see?" You smiled, fixing your hair briefly from the sudden rush of panic. ‘Damn it, stay calm! Why am I so nervous?’

Timothy winked at you and raised his glass. "Did you come alone or..." he stopped abruptly when he noticed someone behind your back. "Hey, is that Paul Allen?"

‘Shit, shit, shit. That was so much easier in my head than it is in reality.’ You chewed on your cheek, and while the men were guessing whether they really saw Paul Allen or not, a sudden idea came to your mind, but you hated it before you even started to bring it to life. "Do you have a gram?" You asked without thinking, hoping they would say no.

"I do," Bateman's voice came out of nowhere and you almost screamed in your head, but you had to keep your composure. "But you will owe me." As he said this, you came closer to where he was sitting with a playful smile on your face and took a seat next to him. "Wait, we are not going to do coke here."

"Hey, why not?" David chuckled and took out his business card holder. "What's wrong with it?

"Oh God, look at that cheeky bastard," Craig pressed a palm to his face. "Van Patten decided to be a bad boy today."

The men laughed and high-fived each other before Bateman whispered in your ear, making you almost jump. "Follow me." Those two simple words made you obey like you were under a spell.

As the two of you made your way to the bathroom where people in the Tunnel usually did coke, your heart pounded to the heavy beat of the music, or even faster. Patrick went first, his elegant silhouette like a shining star in the midnight sky — so eye-catching and mesmerizing that it wasn't surprising that a lot of people turned around to look at him, but you didn't care as soon you would be alone with him. ‘Just you and me, Bateman.’

The bathroom was surprisingly empty today. The last time you were there, you had to wait almost half an hour to get into the free stall, but now luck seemed to be on your side. As you stepped into one, Patrick pulled out his business card holder and rolled the $100 bill; you did the same, watching as Bateman made lines of coke with his platinum AmEx card.

"I have to say, you look much better." You commented briefly.

The man was about to lean over to snort the white powder, but your words made him freeze. "Huh," he chuckled abruptly and brushed away a stray lock of hair. "I was just reading some books about... relationships," Patrick grimaced, drawing out the last word with a cocky grin. "It changed my mind." Before you could say anything, Patrick was snorting the coke, holding the rolled-up bill to his nostril while holding another down with his thumb.

"Very funny," you mumbled, tapping the rolled note against the inside of your palm. "Where was your wit when I walked into your office a week ago?"

Bateman coughed quietly and threw his head back for a moment to clean his nose. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Rolling your eyes, you moved closer to his business card holder to inhale the white line of powder that had been left there, your mood was already off, and at some point you even began to regret coming to Tunnel tonight. Though it wasn't your first time doing coke, you felt so dizzy as the drug began to intoxicate your system that you almost fell to the floor if you hadn't bumped into Bateman's chest, leaving a white stain on the lapel of his Valentino suit.

"Hey! What the fuck!" Patrick blurted out, ready to push you off, but the way you grabbed his shoulders stirred something strange inside him, something he was fighting all the time. "Have you ever done coke?"

You coughed several times, blinked nervously, and only then did you let him go. "Sorry..." you gasped and leaned against the wall of the stall behind your back. "It's been a while."

"You stained my jacket."

"God! I'm sorry, okay?"

"No," Bateman replied, brushing off. "Not okay."

"What do you mean?" You asked confusedly, batting your eyelashes and breathing heavily.

Patrick dropped his head for a second before looking at you again, your faces dangerously close. "I'm not okay."

You licked your lips nervously. "Why?"

Instead of saying anything, the man pulled you against his massive frame, giving you no time to react as his hot mouth covered yours; it was difficult to call it a kiss, it was more like the act of claiming — his strong arms trapping you between the wall and his muscular body while yours hovered motionlessly like whips. When Bateman released you, he tugged at your lower lip and licked it with a wet, obscene sound. "Because...because of this."

Panting, you stood in shock for a moment before nodding and touching your wet lips. "Yes," you put both hands on his chest, exploring it slowly but boldly, causing him to close his eyes for a second. "I don't think I'm okay either." After whispering it in his ear, you slid your tongue down his bare neck, right over the mole, and when you heard him grunting, you lowered your hand to his belt, playing teasingly with the buckle.

"Lower," Bateman husked, and when you didn't listen, he grabbed your hand and lowered it himself — the outline of his fully erected cock eliciting a muffled moan to break out of your cramped throat. "Ahhh-fuck."

"God, you're so needy," you murmured against his neck, busy undoing his belt. "So touchy."

It only took a few seconds for you to undo his pants and let his taut dick pop out of his underwear. ‘Mmhhm, his cock is so perfect, just as I expected,’ you smiled to yourself, and in the next moment you were stroking his throbbing length, smearing his slick pre-cum around his swollen tip without any shame or fear of getting caught.

"(Y/n)," Patrick hissed as he pressed you against the wall with his weight, his hands sneaking down your back to grope your ass. "Be quiet," the man ordered when he heard your soft moans. "Keep quiet and undo this." Bateman pointed to your bottom and just the thought of what he was about to do to you almost made you cum.

"Why?" You gave him a foxy grin and tightened your grip on his dick, forcing Patrick to hold his breath.

"Just...just do what I say..."

"Okay, honey."

"Don't call me that!" He uttered and squeezed your ass painfully, your bodies grinding against each other, making you hot and sweaty.

"Patrick..." You attempted to kiss him, but he turned away.

In one swift motion, the man reached your neck and aggressively nipped at the throbbing artery. "Shut up! Just shut up and undo this fucking..."

You didn't let him finish his tantrum as you caught his lips with yours, increasing the tempo of the jacking, and you could feel he was so damn close. But since he was so insistent, you undid the lower part of your garment, and everything that happened next was like one of your recent dreams. Bateman, flushed and panting, crouched down, his cock slipping out of your grasp, but the next second his fierce mouth found its way between your legs as he began to suck on your sensitive flesh with sheer greed and passion, not forgetting to pump his dick and growl softly against your skin.

"Ohh, Pat-Patrick," you gasped, tugging at his brown hair, dishevelling it, but neither of you cared. "I'm gonna cum if you don't stop..."

"Mmm-fuck, you taste so sweet," Patrick pressed his face closer to your core, his free hand nailing you to the wall to hold you in place. "You're shaking like a fucking whore."

Chucking, you yanked at his hair a little harder. "And you're devouring me like a starved man, are you starved, Bateman? How long have you been... so fucking s-starved?" You hiccupped as he redoubled his efforts, lapping at your crotch and jerking himself off. "F-fuck, I'm... I'm gonna..."

The loud footsteps made you both stop in your tracks, and when you heard people coming into the bathroom, you stalled completely, only to quickly fix your clothes and then pretend nothing had happened as you left the stall. Later, as you were washing your hands, Patrick stood behind you and you met his eyes in the mirror. "Are you leaving or..." You asked briefly as he handed you your twisted bill.

"Yeah," Bateman straightened his jacket and wiped his mouth with a paper towel before opening the door. "You better forget about it. Believe me."

‘And now I feel like I need a memory reboot.’

Chapter 2 is here! 💗✌

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader #gn reader

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un-lawliet · 9 months ago

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— A drabble about falling asleep on Gojo, and making him realise something he never even considered.

You’re asleep before you even realise it, your head softly bouncing as your body slumps sideways.

Right onto Gojo’s shoulder.

Well, nearly.

The blindfolded man turns his head at the slight bump on his infinity, pausing briefly as he sees you sound asleep, a small crease in your brow as your body attempts to readjust into a more comfortable position.

That mission must have taken a lot more out of you than he had thought.

For such a well rounded sorcerer as yourself to fall asleep on the train ride home…Gojo finds himself frowning at his lack of perception.

He could have handled it for you, had you have asked him to, should you have voiced your exhaustion to him, he would have finished the mission quickly and walked you right to your bed.

You hadn’t been sleeping well recently, he had noticed that.

Being too caught up in trying to teach your students whilst also contributing to your part in the eradication of curses, left you a yawning mess, trailing your feet ever so slightly behind you as you walked.

You lack your usual air of charm, your eyes duller, and voice quiet, and Gojo finds himself, missing you a lot more than he believed he should.

When the pair of you return to Jujutsu Tech, Gojo makes a reminder in his head to take over the rest of your missions until you can promise him of your rest.

If you won’t take care of yourself, then he will.

For now though, the traces of a small smile can be seen on his lips, as your head finally hits the warmth of his shoulder, his technique forgotten for just a moment.

Allowing himself the feeling of your hair tickling his neck, and the weight of your sleep, he traces your eyebrow with his thumb, smirking as you sigh contently at his touch.

There’s an old woman, across from the pair of you, sitting with her bags stacked high on her knees, who whispers under her breath to her husband about the joy of young love, and how gentle it can make a man.

And Gojo finds himself growing fond at the thought, humming sweetly as he looks at your sleeping face, and how calm you look when against his frame.

The trains goes through a tunnel, darkness permeating the car for a brief moment.

You shuffle in your seat as the darkness becomes light once more, waking slightly at the sudden change in brightness.

Your head is resting on something…warm?

You blink slowly, taking in your surroundings before gazing up, alarm juxtaposing your peace.

You spring off his shoulder, eyes wide with concession.

“Oh my God!” You splutter out, your face burning with chagrin, your hands raising as if pleading for mercy.

Your relationship with Gojo is complicated already, you hate to make things more confusing than they need to be.

“I’m sorry!” You say, “I didn’t realise I-”

He cuts you off with a small shake of his head, a large hand reaching over to gently push your head back onto his shoulder, a chuckle leaving him as he does so.

“Relax.” He grins, and it’s the softest you’ve ever heard him speak, “If you’re tired, sleep. I’ll not stop you.”

And you breathe out and in, Gojo can feel it on his neck, trying not to shiver at the closeness of your breath.

“You don’t mind?” You whisper out, at last, unable to peer back up at him.

The hand that pushed you back to him trails down to rest on your waist, curling in to trace patterns on your skin. It makes you feel warm, and you bury your face deeper into his shoulder.

“Nah.” He replies simply, his voice sounding contemplative, as if coming to a realisation he had not yet realised he had to perceive.

And when he leaves a soft kiss on the top of your head, you feel yourself melt, feelings of confusion and any thought of hesitancy dissipating in the feeling of his delicate kiss.

“Not at all.”

Masterlist <3

feel free to leave a request !

A/N: i miss my baby :(

sorry for being gone for FIVE MONTHS omfg ?????? that’s crazy, i’ve been going insane i think but i’m back and i’m here and i love everyone here and thank you so so so much for reading <3 this was just something small i wrote in half an hour just to bring myself back into the whole writing thing :) so please don’t take it too seriously !!!! i hope you are all doing well

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk leaks #gojo comfort #soft gojo #gojo fluff #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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inkedtae · 2 months ago

Text

between roar and whisper ⇾ bgc. [M]

⎡ Your passion for him toggles between a roar and whisper. He’s not satisfied until your eyes roll. ⎤

⌁ pairing; slytherin!chan x gryffindor!reader (f.)

⌁ genre; hogwarts au, pwp, e2l, some angst, smut, 18+

⌁ word count; 9.4k

⌁ summary; the princess of gryffindor has no business lurking around the dungeons, other than to destroy the demon of slytherin that is… or so she thought…

⌁ warnings; mentions and brief depictions of an abusive relationship, mentions of alcohol, dom!chan, brat!reader (reader is thicc), infidelity, sir kink, size kink, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, bondage, humiliation, overstimulation, degradation, dirty talk, clit worship, fingering, choking, light rimming, squirting, gagging, spanking, tit slapping, cum play, spit play, anal play

⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩

» prefer ao3? keep reading here

» a huge thanks to jen ( @itaeewon ) for making this amazing banner for me, and my amazing beta-readers, who i owe a million hugs to for making this fic readable, jen ( @anobodyslove ), stardust ( @skzdust ), and nephele ( @jisungchan )

⟶ please note that, despite still attending Hogwarts, all characters are of consenting age

Lumos.

The tip of your sycamore wand glows against the dungeon walls. It smells of murky roses and still saltwater. Your face scrunches in disgust as the bitter notions settle upon your tongue. You resist the urge to gag, walking down the long corridor. You duck under hanging cobwebs and try to ignore the scurry of rats along the edge of the stone floors.

Did he guide you down hidden tunnels as some sick joke?

“Meet me by the prefect’s lavatories around midnight,” he’d said, tonguing his cheek and raking his gaze over your frame.“We’ll discuss a truce then.”

You’re not interested in a truce. You just need to obtain proof of his misconduct and abuse of power. After tonight, the Headmistress will think twice about dismissing your accusations of cheating and bribery. Maybe, she’ll stop turning away your owls as well. You’re not certain you can stomach the humiliation of receiving another returned letter in the middle of the crowded common room.

It all ends tonight.

The lying, the cheating, the complete disregard for anyone but himself— you’re tired of it. You just want to experience one day without students nagging you in the common room or great hall or even during class about his destructive behaviour. Despite telling the students countless times to approach the prefects and head-pupils, the responsibility always gets tossed back to you. The prefects claim they can’t risk their positions by making serious accusations against a fellow member of their staff.

“You’re the only one with a credible enough reputation to be taken seriously,” Nayeon, the head-girl, once told you.

You might just scream at the next person who says that to you.

The end of the corridor presents a ladder. As you are about to take hold of the wood, a black, fury insect makes itself known. You slightly squeal at the sight, jump back.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you mutter before flicking your wand to magically shake the spider, and any other crawling critters, off. Begrudgingly, you begin your ascent up the ladder.

Alohomora.

The latch unlocks. You grunt, pushing open the door. It falls onto the floor with a loud thump. You freeze, shoulders to your ears, hoping no one has heard. When only silence replies, you climb through with a soft grunt. Kicking the door shut, you brush off your clothes and resist the urge to shudder at the thought of one of those bugs finding themselves on you.

“You can just take those off,” a deep voice says, tone dripping in arrogance.“You won’t need them in here.”

Moonlight seeps through stain-glass windows, cascading upon an all too handsome face. However, the room is primarily illuminated by a warm glow of candles levitating above. Under the orangish flicker of the lights, he sits in a grand foam-topped bath. His wet hair is slicked back, eyes dancing with mischief as he tilts his head to observe you. You swallow thickly at the sight of his bare chest and those strong arms, leaning back against the rim of the porcelain green tub.

Vermilion vanilla and smoked sandalwood saturate the room, emerging from bubbles that float out of the foam and burst around you. The sweet taste is on the tip of your tongue. Intoxicating your senses, the scent ripples into your subconscious, unravelling a memory from Potions class weeks ago.

Professor Hylithe purposely paired Gryffindors with Slytherins, forcing you to sit by him despite your many protests.

He flashed that same smirk, cocked that same brow and teased, “I won’t bite,” only to lean in and whisper, “unless you ask nicely.”

The moment he inched closer that musky vanilla scent invaded your senses. Your eyes watered; breath almost hitched as you held it. Still, you didn’t want to exhale it too soon, wishing to inject it into your bloodstream.

The same urge tugs at your senses now, electrifying your nerves with a desire to lean into his masculine scent of comfort and stability.

“Don’t be shy,” he goads, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You roll your eyes. “Get your ass out here, Bahng.”

“I'd rather bang in here.”

You can tell by the smirk playing on his lips he’s proud of himself. You fight off a chuckle, sucking in your cheeks.

“You picked now to bathe?” you ask as you climb up the steps of the bath.

He shrugs, averting his gaze to twirl his fingers between the bubbles. “It’s hard to find the time when I’m constantly being summoned to the Headmistress’s office.”

So, she has been getting your owls. You try to mask your relief, crossing your arms over your chest. His attention lingers on the gesture. You knew there was an ulterior motive to his sudden talks of peace. If you continue to expose his impropriety, he might be revoked of his prefect privileges.

“Maybe if you stopped being an ass and started following the rules, instead of bending them for your cockroach friends and girls you’d like to bed, you would be able to fit whatever you want in your schedule.”

He smirks. “Am I sensing a hint of jealousy?”

You mock his smile. “I have a boyfriend.”

Rolling his shoulders back, he breathes a humourless chuckle. “Right, what was his name again? Jake?”

“Jim.”

“Whatever,” he hisses. “Hell of a quidditch player.”

You tentatively nod.

“Heard he has a tendency to be a beater off the field as well.”

Shifting your weight, you shake your head. “Are you unfamiliar with the concept of a rumour, Bahng?”

“That’s not exactly denial, is it?”

Lips dry, you take a moment to lick them and swallow thickly.

No one understands Jim— no one tries to, anyway. He’s thoughtful when it counts and nearly always caring. He’s just protective of those he cherishes. He allows you permission to hang out with your friends because he wants to ensure that you’ll be safe no matter where you are. And you like it when your boyfriend has input on your clothes. You’re so used to wearing a uniform, sometimes you forget how a proper woman is supposed to dress— that’s what Jim tells you. He is always here to remind you because he cares. He made that very clear himself.

Yes, maybe sometimes he becomes so passionate he cannot think straight, but it’s not intentional. He’s filled with so many emotions, it’s hard to contain them all at once. Besides, he always makes it up to you, showering you with cuddles, kisses, and your favourite chocolate frogs. He’s completely capable of being a gentleman.

“He just has a temper,” you reply, voice quavering. You clear your throat before adding, “I’ve heard that you do as well. Aren’t you dubbed the Demon of Slytherin?”

A smile tugs on his full lips at the mention of the title. “Not with the people I care about,” he clarifies.

“Well, look at that,” you tease. “I didn’t think you cared about anyone other than yourself.”

He thumbs the corner of his mouth, tongue poking against his bottom lip. “Come in and I’ll enlighten you a bit more.”

You raise an unimpressed brow. “We’re here for peace-talks,” you remind.

“And I’m not talking until you get in here.”

He can’t be serious.

You scoff, glaring. That usual smirk is nowhere to be seen. He maintains your gaze, expressionless. The only movement is the constant clenching and unclenching of his jaw as he waits.

“I can look away if you’d like,” he taunts, the lightest impression of a smile on his lips.

He really isn’t serious, you realise. He’s only toying with you, mocking your known tendencies to be a straight-edged, highly academic student. He thinks you’re some prudent angel who condemns all excitement and never dares to laugh out loud in public.

Gritting your teeth, you grab onto the hem of your sweater and pull it over your head. The way his brows shoot up only fuels your defiance. With every button you undo, his jaw loosens a bit more. You watch his throat bob at the sight of your satin pink bra and hear his breath hitch when you pull it off.

His dazed gaze follows your hands around the zipper of your short, pleated skirt. A part of you wishes you had matched your panties with your bra solely for the sake of consistency, but the baby-blue cotton will have to do.

He roams his eyes over your curves as you flick off your shoes and socks before meeting yours once more. You gather your hair, inhaling and exhaling slowly under his careful watch, and tie it back into a sloppy but tight bun. Big, brown, and once boastful, his eyes now swim with notions of marvelled intrigue.

As you take a step into the bath, you notice he neatly folded his clothes on the edge of the tub, flicking your attention between him and his precious clothes. Then, you hold his gaze, plaster your sweetest smile, and push them into the water.

He raises his brows, about to object when you say, “That’s for being a pompous ass.”

He tries to hide his smile with a bite of his lip.

Your knees wobble as you continue to wade through water and foam. Perhaps it’s the warmth of the bath, or the cover of bubbles, but the reality of the situation has finally dawned on you. Shedding your garments one by one, you have stripped your inhibitions in front of the most cunning douchebag you’ve ever been blessed to meet. What if he tells his friends? What if he embellishes the events and turns you into a conquest?

What if Jim finds out?

“What happens here stays between us,” he suddenly announces, as if reading your mind. “Not even the ghosts will know.”

“How can I be sure?”

“I’m not uncivilised, princess,” he smirks. “I have my honour.”

You pause, waiting for the glint in his eyes that often follows the delivery of his vicious jokes. Instead, sincerity swirls in those brown eyes. You wonder if perhaps you’re a fool because you believe him.

You take a seat to his left, maintaining a more-than-respectable distance. Collecting extra clusters of bubbles, you arrange them before your full chest. You’ve made your point, you tell yourself. And he’s seen far more than Jim ever has— both must never know.

“I can’t hear you from there.”

“You can hear me just fine.”

“What?”

You lean your head back with an exasperated sigh. “Merlin give me strength,” you mutter before inching a bit closer.

He tsks, beckoning you towards him with a curl of his fingers.

You comply, drawing nearer and nearer. When he continues to summon you closer, even at an arm’s length away, you lightly splash him.

“This is close enough,” you spit.

From the way he smiles, you realise he was trying to see how close he could get you. Jaw tight, you shake your head.

“Can you be serious for two minutes?” you ask, voice sharp. “We shouldn’t even be up this late. We have a Transfigurations quiz tomorrow.”

Confusion furrows his brows. “No, we don’t.”

You try not to smile at the way he speaks, accent thickest when he’s perplexed.

“Every second Thursday at nine, we get a pop quiz on the last two chapters,” you explain. “If you paid attention to anyone but yourself, you’d know that.”

“I don’t think anyone but you knows that,” he replies through a chuckle.

He can see the pride flash in your eyes, spreading onto your lips through a little smile— you know he can. He mirrors the expression, and you expected it to be another instance of mockery. However, upon the absence of that mischievous glint in his eye, you’re inclined to believe that he might actually mean it.

Is he proud of you for being so observant, so keen?

You hold your breath as he reaches over to move a strand of hair from your face. He tucks it behind your ear, then gently traces your jaw. You gulp a nervous lump down your throat.

Holding your chin between the edge of his finger and thumb, he quietly asks, “You want to be serious?”

You slowly nod.

“Tell me why the Princess of Gryffindor is dating a leach.”

“Why do you care?”

“Satisfy my curiosity.”

Why is the thought of satisfying him not completely revolting?

He’s a liar, a charming hustler. He has, somehow, slithered his way into everyone’s good graces, always getting what he wants, when he wants it. He gives absolutely no thought to the regulations either, sneaking his way around every rule and blaming it all on your fellow Gryffindors. It’s infuriating. You’re much more witty, much quicker than him. You’re a better quidditch player too, and, if he hadn’t manipulated Madame Hooch into making him the star-player of the season, you would have easily secured that title.

So, why, after all the trouble he has caused you, does the mere mention of his satisfaction exhilarate you?

You move to release yourself from his touch, but he holds you tighter, forcing you to maintain eye contact. Clenching your jaw, you inhale sharply through your nostrils. Your eyes narrow.

He flickers his attention to your scowl, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

You exhale carefully, cautious not to press your mouth against his touch. “Some say being with Jim makes me the princess,” you confess.

He tongues his cheek.

“You don’t agree?”

“When I look at you, all I see is royalty,” he softly says, voice steady and deep. “And I can assure you that has nothing to do with him.”

“I’ve known him forever,” you try again.

He arches a brow. “You’ve known him for a little over a year,” he corrects. “You’ve known me forever.”

He’s right; you really have known him forever. The memory of him on the train on your very first day of school, sitting in the compartment across from yours, resurfaces.

He was just some snot-nosed thirteen year old, supervising his loud friends as they arm wrestled. He caught you staring and winked.

You gagged in disgust.

He’s a flirt, you remind yourself. And you mustn’t forget that there’s a catch to this line of questioning.

You tear yourself out of his grasp, hardening your gaze. “You’re not going to worm your way out of this conversation, Bahng. Tell me what it’s going to take.”

He settles back against the tub, rolling his shoulders. “What’s the point? You’ll never do it.”

You pause, attention flitting down to where the foam gathers by his waist.

Is he… big, you can’t help wondering.

The dark chuckle tumbling from his full lips reminds you of your annoyance. Gulping, you muster your most disgusted sneer and glare at him.

He’s shameless.

“You sicken me,” you spit.

That little chuckle manifests into a full, deep laugh. His pretty eyes twinkle with mischief as he tongues his cheek.“You’re so dirty,” he teasingly chastises.

You don’t mean to shiver, but he shoots you a suggestive look and suddenly you feel hot.

“All you have to do is ask me nicely.”

Brows knitted, you scoff. “I’ve asked you hundreds of times.”

“You’ve demanded,” he corrects. “Besides, I didn’t like your tone.”

You could smack him right now. You could push a wave of water in his face, disorienting him for a moment so he doesn’t see your hand wind back, and hit him upside the head. Clenching your fist, jaw tight, you fight against the urge.

A jeering smirk tugs on the corner of his lips. He’s reaping all too much amusement from your misery.

Inhaling deeply, you swallow your pride and begin, “I was wond—”

“Sir.”

“What?”

“Start with ‘Sir’.”

You scoff.

“You want me to stop, right?” he asks, voice dripping with condescension.

You’ve never been more thankful for the amount of foam floating amongst you. Your thighs press together tightly at his tone, almost quivering under the water’s surface. You don’t think you’d be able to walk away so haughty and moral if he could see just how much his charm could potentially sway you.

“Sir,” you pointedly add, “I was wondering if you would please find it in your poor little excuse of a heart to stop terrorising my housemates?”

He hisses, squinting and tilting his head. “I’m detecting sarcasm.”

“I’m detecting bullshit.”

A look of mocked condemnation colours his face. “Now, now, princess. Didn’t I tell you to ask nicely?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Everyone calls you that.”

“Not like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I belong to you.”

What an interesting reality that would be— calling someone like him your boyfriend. Walking with him to class, letting him hold your books, or play with your hair, or adore the outfits you pick out and practise flying together. The images conjure themselves so clearly in your brain, you could’ve sworn they were memories. Even holding his hand would make your legs weak.

All wicked notions of mockery fade within a blink. There’s a crease between his brows and his eyes narrow, but they are not full of taunting amusement nor unruly mischief. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they’re full of pity.

“You’re not property to possess,” he affirms, tone disparaging as if the thought is unnatural. “You’re an idol of worship.”

“How blasphemous,” you joke, playing along.

He does not laugh. Sucking in his cheeks, brows furrowed and head shaking, he redirects his gaze to the bubbles in front of him. You watch his jaw flex, throat bob. Even the candles, floating above, dim and cast shadows over his handsome face.

“I’ll see what I can do about keeping Gryffindors out of trouble,” he suddenly concedes, shifting his arms off the edge of the tub for the first time. They disappear under water as he continues, “You’re going to have to warn them against bothering Slytherins though.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

What is that voice?

Usually light, laced with arrogance and mischief, his voice floats like a sweet melody, only to land sharper than a blade. Now it is plagued with melancholia. Slow, raspy, he almost sounds defeated, like he’s given up.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

Your face folds into confusion. Tilting your head, you let out a breathy chuckle. “I have known you forever, Bahng. And I know that you are a man of very pretty words, the prettiest sometimes.”

He casts you a sidelong glance, quirking a brow as a smile hovers over his lips.

You ignore his giant ego and continue, “One word answers are not in your arsenal, unless they’re lethal.”

“Your point?”

“Something is bothering you.”

“Why do you even care?” He sighs, finally meeting your gaze.

You resist a smirk. “Satisfy my curiosity?”

Conceit has no place on his face. A soft smile settles, caressing his features with genuine astonishment. Perhaps it wasn’t what you said, tossing his words back at him. But rather how you said it. Uncertain, perhaps even slightly cheeky, you posed it as a question. Your right shoulder came up to your cheek, and voice slightly pitched.

He lets out a chuckle. Parting his lips, you think he might finally express himself. He shakes his head, looking down instead.

“All this because you promised not to trouble me anymore?”

He shuts his eyes, bites his lip. You hear him inhale sharply, watch him release his lip to glide his tongue over his teeth. His jaw tenses then he meets your gaze. Cold, annoyed, he regards you with scrutiny.

“When have you ever been in trouble because of me?” he asks, voice so level, it makes you tremble. “When your friends were called to the Headmistress’s office two weeks ago, were you asked to join them?”

How the hell does he know about that? The Headmistress reassured Jim and the rest of your friends that the professor who witnessed the drunken broom-rides around the courtyard would not share it with the other pupils. She gave them a month’s worth of detention and praised you for not partaking in their shenanigans.

“Who do you think was on duty that night?” he questions. “Who do you think sent you that signal from the astronomy tower? Who do you think convinced the Headmistress that you were safely tucked in bed, unaware of the fact that your little leach stole your broom?”

The blood drains from your face.

“Do you even know what that toad said when the Headmistress questioned your involvement?”

You shake your head.

“He told her that it was your idea. That you were the one who smuggled the alcohol from some secret passage you found near Honeydukes. He told her that you were the one that woke him up and begged him to come out with you. He cried.” His voice simmers with fury, quiet and steady, as he draws nearer. You press your back against the tub. “He babbled like a baby and dragged your character through the mud.”

You crank your head back to maintain eye contact. You’re careful not to take a full breath, hoping your breasts don’t brush against his chest. However, you swear the tips of your hardened nipples still graze his skin. The possible contact fogs your brain. You blink to force yourself to remain focused, trying to register his words, the implication of betrayal they reveal.

“But he told me—”

“He’s a fucking liar,” he seethes. His gaze bounces around your face, as if suddenly aware of your proximity. Attention lingering on your lips, he confesses, “I’ve shattered reputations to keep you out of trouble. So I have to ask, ____, when have you ever gotten in trouble because of me?”

You part your lips to mention the onslaught of complaints you receive daily due to his insolence, but it all seems meaningless now. Why would someone known as the Demon of Slytherin shatter reputations for you? He doesn’t seem very sentimental, yet he lied for your sake.

Going for a late night fly in the courtyard really was your idea. You had too much coffee one night, trying to stay up long enough to finish your report on the history of alchemy due the next morning. Having finished your scroll earlier than you thought, still buzzing with energy, you suggested a broom race to your friends.

Jim heard you talking about it the next morning, and scolded you for being so thoughtless. He woke you up that night, ordering you and your roommates to get out of bed and join his friends for a race. Your roommates eventually brushed him off, but his grasp on your arm left no room for refusal.

You were made aware of the alcohol, or rather its influence, when you witnessed Monroe fly face-first into the side of the castle.

“I’m going to bed,” you said. You dismounted to hurry inside when Jim caught hold of your robes.

“We’re not done,” he sneered, pulling you towards him. You held your breath, knowing it wouldn’t end well if you reacted to the stench of whisky seeping from his mouth. “Did you leave your little friends out here when you flew with them?”

A bright green flare suddenly shot up from the astronomy tower. Jim loosened his grip to marvel at the sight with his friends.

You took the opportunity to slip away, rushing back to your dorm.

Blinking out of your memories, you watch as he pulls himself away, returning to his previous place in the tub. He sits back against the porcelain, wet arms resting on the edge.

You bite your lip at the sight of his glistening muscles. You’re not sure when he got so big, coming back to school a couple of years ago with broad shoulders and a buff chest.

Leaning his head back, he shuts his eyes and mutters, “Towels are by the steps.”

It’s time to go.

So why can’t you move?

Your legs tremble, wrinkled fingers twisting in your lap. Stand up, you tell yourself. Stand up, dry off, get dressed and leave the way you came.

Why would he lie for you, you can’t stop wondering. Why would he warn you before sending professors to detain your disorderly friends? Wouldn’t he gain more by diminishing your credibility?

This must be one of his games. He’s agreed to a house truce, but perhaps he merely wants to channel his deviant tendencies onto you.

You study his features at the thought. Though his eyes are closed, head still titled back against the edge, his jaw is tight. He grinds his teeth like he’s trying to swallow profanities. You shift your attention to his hands, large and vein-laced. His knuckles are white from how tightly he clenches them.

Could he perhaps be— No! The Demon of Slytherin would find that laughable. Of course, he’s not interested in you. It’s all a game. It must be.

“Why aren’t you leaving?”

You lick your lips. “Why did you lie for me?”

The candles flicker.

“You know why.”

“I really don’t.”

He tongues his cheek. You bite back a shameful moan.

“It’s the same reason why you refuse to say my name.”

You gulp. “Bahng,” you reply only for him to chuckle.

He peeks a sidelong glance at you before laughing some more and shutting his eyes. “You’re cute when you’re in denial.”

“Are you capable of giving me a straight answer?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes. He’s really going to make you say it. How did he even know you’ve been avoiding it? Has he been eavesdropping on your conversations with your friends? It’s not as though it means anything serious anyway. You just can’t get used to his name on your tongue. You’ve uttered it once in the Great Hall to one of your friends and hatefully realised that you in fact like how it sounds.

However, that cannot mean that you like him. It just means that you might be inclined to tolerate him as a classmate, or perhaps even an occasional friend. He’s not entirely horrible. He’s never late. He’s never raised his voice at his friends, and you are all too aware of how loud they can be. He has an easy smile. He’s clever. He’s athletic. He would be a dedicated, determined, devoted boyfri—.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

He sits up, rolling his neck. “You’re pretty slow for one of the top students of your year,” he taunts.

You should be insulted, absolutely disgusted that Bahng, the cunning Demon of Slytherin, has a crush on you. You should swear at him, splash him in the face with the foamy water and storm out just as you should have when he asked you to call him ‘sir.’

However, you find that your heart beats faster, breath already ragged. You find that you inch closer, flitting your gaze between his eyes and lips. You find that you do not want to hurl your dinner nor any other insults you usually have locked and loaded when you see him in the halls.

Panic surges through you at the realisation that maybe… maybe you might like him too.

“I have a boyfriend!” you suddenly announce, though you’re not quite sure who you’re trying to remind.

His voice is tempered, gaze knowing as he replies, “I’m not forcing you to stay, princess.”

I have a boyfriend.

“And if I do?” you ask as he scans your features. “Would you tell him?”

I have a boy.

“No one will know,” he repeats.

I have a friend?

“Promise?”

I have… I have…

“I vow to you my honour and dignity.”

You reach for him, finding that he is already moving towards you. Lips latch. A whirlwind of wonder circles from the pit of your stomach, flooding your chest with desire. Febrile, fierce, the force seers his name into your flesh, pumps his breath through your lungs.

Ch-ris, Ch-ris, Ch-ris, your heart beats.

Your tongue fails to keep up with his, swirling and twirling to eventually give into his guidance. You just need him closer, grappling onto his large shoulders. Arching your back, you shove your chest against his.

His hands find their place on your waist. He hugs you against him, his hammering heart beating as one with your own. It’s so natural, so quick, the way your bodies find a rhythm, congruently propelling excitement.

And then it slips, distinct amongst the shared panting, “Chris.”

You feel his hands slide down to your thighs and tighten their grip. Letting out a little squeal, you clutch onto his shoulders as he swiftly lifts you atop the thick edge of the tub.

Chris stands between your legs. A little voice is screaming at you to push him away, but you find yourself leaning back, further spreading yourself for him.

It seems to be all the confirmation he needs to advance. His hands trail up along your thick thighs. He gropes at the flesh, watching your brows furrow and lips quiver. His thumb presses against your clit.

Your legs tremble, water rippling where your feet still dangle beneath the surface.

Chris smirks. He circles the bundle of nerves, eyeing your features as they succumb to the gentle pleasure. Licking your lips, you resist the urge to buckle your hips into his hand, body tensing.

“Yeah,” he coos, rubbing your thigh. “You like that, princess?”

Before you can reply, he dives his head between your legs. His lips latch around your clit, sucking harshly. Your breath hitches, stifling your moans in the base of your throat.

His tongue presses between your folds. The warm, wet sensation itself triggers a whiny moan, but the growl that rumbles from the deep crevices of his chest has you gripping onto his head.

Chris is famished. He laps at your clenching hole, slurping on your desire with vigorous determination. He wraps his arms around the undersides of your full thighs and feasts. He shakes his head with a deep groan. You knew you liked that big nose of his for a reason, moaning loudly as he nuzzles against your clit.

Hips roll into lips. You tremble. His grip tightens as his tongue pushes through. Fingers tangled in his hair, you gasp a moan and pathetically move your body against his face.

Chris pins you in place. He has a pace set, a steady in-and-out rhythm, that does not require any assistance.

It’s brutal.

Fast and rough, he tongues your gushing pussy, further smothering his nose against your bundle of nerves. The ongoing groans he emits do not ease the intensity of his passion, vibrating against your sex.

“Fu-ck,” you choke out, squirming over his tongue.

You think he might drown in you but then he replaces his tongue with rougher fingers. Your arousal glistens over his chin and cheeks under the wavering candlelight. Ardent eyes hold your desperate ones. You have trouble focusing on the emotion flooding his gaze as his fingers curl within you.

You’ve felt your high growing for a while, but have not been so distressed by its presence before this moment. You grip onto the edge, eyes fluttering shut as your hips rush up to meet his fingers.

Chris darkly chuckles. “No, no, no, no, open your eyes, princess,” he coaxes, pace becoming more aggressive. “Look at how well you fuck my fingers.”

Your lip quivers as you focus your attention downward. Your body has a mind of its own, rolling desperately up to his hand. It’s pitiful, really— the avidity, the urgency, the willingness you display at the mere curl of his fingers, pressing the most perfect spot over and over. You haven’t even been able to find it while trying to pleasure yourself. And the couple of times you’ve allowed Jim to attempt to fuck you, you were more eager to finish than to begin.

A weak moan escapes you as you meet Chris’s cocky gaze. You never want this end, shameless in your realisation. You never want him to leave, never want to stop gawking at his handsome features as his fingers unravel your worries.

“C-can,” you start, pussy clenching tightly around his digits. “Can I pl-ease c-cum, sir?”

His eyes darken. Jaw tight, he wraps a hand around your throat.

You meant to gasp, but an embarrassingly erotic moan tears through his hold instead. It spurs him on, his pace becoming unmanageable. The bath around him thrashes from the force of his strong arm.

His fist tightens around your neck. Your needy moans shatter.

“Cum on my fingers, pretty girl,” he whispers.

You must confess that you might have cum whether or not he gave you permission, the urge undeniable. Undone in mere seconds, you throw your head back. Your body quakes, hole clenching sporadically as you gush and gush. Your hips eventually still. Your legs tremble as your orgasm shudders through you. For a second, you feel the room spin. Blood rushes up to your head, disorienting your senses.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs.

If you’ve been so good, why hasn’t he stopped? His fingers, while slowing down, still maintain a steady force. His hand still grips around your throat, choking all your high pitched whines as your orgasm washes over you.

“C-Chris?” you shakily ask once you sit up again.

A sparkle of sinister satisfaction winks in his gaze.

You swallow thickly, hips shifting to escape the ongoing pleasure. “Chris,” You firmly repeat before releasing the edge of the tub and gripping onto his wrist. “Chris, please.”

Your efforts are useless, his force much stronger than yours.

“Don’t you wanna cum?”

“I d-id,” you whine. “I c-came, sir, please.”

A pleased growl rumbles from his chest at the title.

Pride sprouts in your stomach, or perhaps it’s another orgasm? It gathers around your clit. You furrow your brows at the sensation, pussy now clenching around his fingers tighter than before. Your release usually knots and twists under your stomach, threatening to gush between the sporadic tensing.

You think you might need to urinate this time, however. The thought rushes blood to your cheeks.

“Chris,” you try to warn.

Tongue licking the corner of his mouth, Chris raises a knowing brow. He smiles devilishly.

Does he know? Does he care?

You don’t have time to find out, letting go of his wrist to grab back onto the edge. Your hips freeze, body rigid as another wave of pleasure overwhelms you. Moans trickle out through sobs, the blissful gratification becoming all too much.

Hand shifting from your throat to your waist, Chris holds you steady and pulls out his fingers to a spray of your orgasm. He does not recoil at the splash, but further coaxes it as his fingers rush flat over your clit.

Your body does not feel like your own, overridden with galvanising pleasure. Senses lost, you don’t realise the damage you’re on the verge of causing. Writhing, a pitched, loud scream splits through the swashing of the bath and splatter of your release from the depths of your lungs. Perhaps your vision is foggy, but you swear you catch the stain-glass windows tremor.

Chris ceases his harsh ministrations. He’s stifling his laughter as he pulls you back into the bath. His hand clamps over your mouth— your whines even louder at the sudden halt of satisfaction.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he soothes as you crank your neck back to look up at him.

Though, mind still hazy, you cannot help wondering if he likes the image of you beneath him or if this is simply the best position to silence you.

Why not both, you can almost hear him reply.

Chris must see some sort of dialogue in your eyes because he narrows his own. “Do you want to get caught? Is that why you screamed?” He removes his hand from your mouth, only to trace it with his thumb. “You want your precious house to see this— see me between your legs?”

You cannot help your smirk, quirking your brow. “You do look good there.”

“Yeah?” he asks, breath fanning over your lips.

When you nod, he smiles, the curve of his lips so devastatingly beautiful you wonder how on Earth you ever denied him for so long.

“As good as you’d look gagged?”

You furrow your brows, about to question him when you feel it. Wet silk slithers along your arm, looping around your bicep and up your shoulder. Green and silver, you watch as his tie travels around your neck, slightly tightening— teasing.

When you meet Chris’s gaze once more, you find they glow with rapturous lust. How long has he thought about this, about you? Does he spend his nights with the image of you at his mercy, mouth bound? Does he crave it when you sass him?

You part your lips to accommodate the tie, holding his gaze. As it loops into a tight knot behind your head, Chris tenderly takes your hands and guides them to your back. The same cool, wet sensation of silk begins to bind your wrists. It must be your Gryffindor tie. The irony is not lost on you. You felt bound by your house to see him and now he has bound you by your house to fuck you. It’s clever, admirable— already more stimulating than attempting to cum at the clueless hands of your boyfriend.

“Do you trust me?” he asks again. It’s like he cannot believe it himself.

“Foolishly,” you tease between the gag.

He smirks, caressing your chin.

“Completely,” you add. Whatever playfulness once twinkled in your eyes, fades into seriousness. “Undoubtedly.”

That’s enough, your pride warns.

“Desperately.”

You’re a fool. A pitiful, needy fool. So vacant of true connection, you’d chase anyone willing to offer you a mere moment of grace and attention. Who is the Demon of Slytherin besides some snake that cons his way through the school, for you to trust him so reverently?

The man who shatters reputations for you, a little voice revels.

Chris secures his fist around your throat again. He applies little to no pressure while pressing a soft kiss to your chin. You can smell your arousal on his face. Though you want to, you cannot deny the shameless quiver of your lower lip.

“Do you trust him like this?”

You should feel cold, recoiling in remorse and disgrace. You should blink yourself out of the trace Chris has lulled you into and demand he unbinds you. You should thrash and scream until someone ultimately hears and rescues you, declaring him a savage beast. You should remember your boyfriend’s name, even recall what he looks like.

Peering up at Chris, all you see is him, all you can bother to chant is his name. Like a broken record, it loops, sliding between thoughts. The only person etched in your soul is Chris.

“Who?” you ask in response to his question.

Chris bites back a smirk.

In a motion so swift you’ve missed it, Chris bends you over the edge of the tub. His hands station at your hips to pull your backside above the water’s surface. He laughs, the sound so sweet and pure you cannot help joining, because you already arch your back, perking your ass up high for him. His hands circle the surface fondly.

For a second, you believe that Chris is your boyfriend and you two do this sort of thing all the time.

And then his tongue returns. Pulling your cheeks apart, Chris dives between, tonguing your tiniest hole. Round and round, teasing a possible penetration, his tongue dances as you clench. Words fail you as only breathless moans sound, fraught and hiccupped. He abandons his ministrations for a split second to slurp on your resurfacing arousal.

“You taste like heaven wrapped in sin,” he mumbles against your folds.

A wavering moan replies through the gag.

You hear the water thrash rhythmically as Chris drags his tongue up from your sensitive pussy to your asshole. Again and again, he moves slow, steady like he wants to savour every last drop you have to offer.

“P-please,” you whimper.

Chris pulls away to gather saliva and spit it back onto you. Face smothered between your cheeks, he hisses,“Please what?”

A broken moan trails in response, body trembling from the aggressive vibrations of his words.

Between kisses on your clenching hole, he questions,“What do you want?”

You can’t take much more of this, toe curling as he continues to plant wet kisses, teasing you. “F-Fuck me,” you plead, holding back desperate sobs. “Please, please, pl-please, fuck me, sir!”

A pleased hum resonates against your hole. Your legs tremble.

Chris detaches himself from your rear. Waves lap around you as he stands to his full height. He pushes up your cheeks, pushing you further over the edge of the tub. His tip pokes at your dripping hole.

Excitement buzzes through your veins, knees wobbling. You fist your hands and hold your breath.

“Do you want my cock, princess?” Chris breathlessly asks, voice husky.

You hurriedly nod.

A hard smack lands on your left cheek. Jolting, a loud shriek escapes you. You try to turn back your head to glare at him, but Chris pulls your hips up again, forcing you back into your bent position.

“Use your words.”

“Yes!” you beech, swallowing profanities. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He rubs the stinging surface, lowly groaning his approval in two simple words: Good girl.

Your knees give out. Chris holds your hips firmly, like he anticipated the reaction. “That’s why you always try to behave, right?” He asks, and you swear you can hear that knowing smirk plastered on his lips. “You like being praised.”

Before you can question how he can possibly know that, his tip breaches.

Your mouth hangs open, but your voice crumbles in the base of your throat, breath stunted in your lungs.

Chris squeezes himself between your walls, imprinting his fingers onto the fat of your hips. “Fuck,” he purrs.

You’re relieved to hear he is just as broken as you are, finding your voice again. You weren’t sure you’d be able to face him tomorrow knowing you melted for him while he remained perfectly composed. Releasing soft, quiet moans, you spare a look back at him.

His head tilts back, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly, but then he straightens it to look back down. His face scrunches in pleasure watching his cock slowly shove into you. He wants to catch every second of it, lifting the fat of your ass to see himself bottom out inside you. He quietly hisses, grabbing handfuls of your cheeks.

Your eyes meet and you expect his to convey the same surprise yours do, having been caught witnessing something…. intimate. Instead, arrogance twinkles and he shoots you a wink.

“You’re insufferable,” you sneer.

He smirks, thrusting in reply.

Your self-righteous glare falters into teary pleasure.

His expression remains unchanged, however, as if he knew one manoeuvre of his hips would be enough to silence you. Reaching for the knot behind your head, Chris forces your head forward. You moan at the rough flick of his wrist, voice peaking as he yanks on the tied gag like he’s reining a horse.

The smack of skin on skin, the splash of the bath around you, even the full-chested growls Chris roars, cannot overtake the whiny, broken moans you release. Every thrust coaxes a louder sound, tearing through your throat as you try desperately to keep it down. He’s just so fast, so big, you cannot contain yourself, pushing yourself back into him.

His free hand slips into your bounded fists. The delicacy of his touch in the midsts of such rough rutting, cradles your heart. He holds your hands firmly and for a second, you forget where you are. It’s just you and Chris and the floating bubbles now infused with vanilla, sandalwood and your blended arousal. On the threshold of something real, you tighten the clasp of your fingers around his hand.

Is Chris looking for reassurance or is the gesture enough to tip him over the edge?

His thrusts snap into a force so strong, you’re certain he would have toppled you over the lip of the tub had he not been holding you so firmly. Vigorous, deliberate, his hips pound into you, rubbing against your clenching walls.

Your legs shake and shoulders ache from the strain of having them fixed in a certain position for much too long. Still, you need more, more—

“More!” you cry, and you hope he can understand you through the gag.

Water splashes out of the tub in great waves as Chris increases his speed. Though the cacophonous melody of your desires fills the room, you swear you hear him whisper, “Whatever you want, princess.”

Eyes rolling, drool dribbling down your chin, you almost fall limp on the edge. Your toes curl, body shakes from the onslaught of pleasure as he thrust, thrust, thrusts into you. You cannot keep still if your sanity depended on it, cannot keep quiet either. You half expect another prefect to barge in or a ghost to emerge and investigate the sounds of your shared pleasure.

You cannot endure it anymore, cannot endure him. Clenching tightly, you meet his movements with eager force. Your moans jump an octave in pitch. His name pours from your quivering lips like a desperate prayer.

His cock twitches.

And all at once, ecstasy arrests your bones. Muscles tense, walls sporadically clench, your orgasm ripples through your aching body. Blood rushes to your head. The high fogs your mind, muffles your hearing and you lay limp over the thick edge of the tub as Chris unloads his desire deep in you.

Nearly half the bath water is all over the floor and you catch his reflection within the spill. His hungry brown eyes are locked on your worn body, on the way your full frame jiggles with the intense impact of his thrusts. Another rope of cum shoots within you at the sight of your voluptuous backside. Chris gropes each cheek, biting his lip.

You wiggle back into him and a little smile tugs on the corners of his plump lips. He hums soft growls, tilting his head to gage the best possible angle to view your rear. He traces gentle circles over the surface of your cheeks before trailing his touch up along your spine and you don’t realise you’re trembling until his fingers brush back down.

While your voice is high-pitched, whimpering between heavy breaths, Chris’s voice drops an octave as he shushes you. The low rumbles resonate within your bones, tenderly soothing you.

The knots around your wrists and head, loosen. Your house ties fall as he pulls out of you. A whine escapes, but Chris is ready. He continues to softly shush you, pulling you up and onto his chest. He wraps his arms around your waist, engulfing you in his warmth.

“You’re okay,” he whispers. He turns to sit again, seating you between his legs. “I got you.”

You tell yourself that you just need to catch your breath. Once you stop panting, and your mind stops whirling, you will untangle yourself from him, threaten to destroy him if he utters this to anyone, and leave. You just need the world to stop spinning.

Only, Chris’s arms are so strong and secure. And with the heat he radiates, the tenor of his deep voice, the brush of his panting breath against the crook of your neck, you cannot bring yourself to fight it. Your body is spent, muscles aching and bones brittle from the rush of pleasure that you still feel fuelling your needy nerves.

More than that though, you can feel your mixed arousal between your legs. And you don’t hate it. You try— you want to hate it. But, it feels so right. It feels like this is how you should be spending every night, this is where his arousal belongs: on your body.

Chris presses a soft kiss against your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter open and you meet his gaze.

“Are you hurt?”

It has just occurred to you that no one else has ever held you this close after any sort of intimate moment. You’ve given your boyfriend, whose name still evades you, everything you have. You’ve gotten on your knees for him, swallowed his loads, pretended to gag on him, and reassured him that he was not quick at all and it was perfectly normal to release within the first few thrusts. You sacrificed your own pleasure multiple times and still, no one has coddled you the way Chris does now, let alone asked you if you’ve been hurt.

Tears sting your eyes. You blink them away, avert your gaze to the remaining clusters of foam and bubbles.

“What hurts?”

His voice is so soft, so delicate, you find it hard to fight off your tears.

You shake your head, not trusting your voice.

Chris shifts to try to meet your gaze. He rubs his hands along your biceps, brows knitted in concern. “Tell me where it hurts,” he practically begs.

“Nothing hurts,” you whisper.

He stiffens, hands pausing mid-stroke.

You chance a glance over your shoulder.

Despair gleams in his eyes. He sets his jaw and swallows thickly before asking, “Do you regret this?”

“No,” you reply before you can even really process the question. Your next words simply tumble out of you. “I couldn’t regret this if I tried.”

Hope twinkles in his gaze, dimming the gloom that once clouded it. He caresses your chin and smirks.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head,” you tease.

He tongues his cheek. “Tell me why you’re upset then. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Chewing on your lip, you wonder if you should be honest. You know he likes you now, but you cannot help wondering if he is simply attracted sexually to you or if this really means something to him. And if it is just sexual attraction, will you be able to weather his rejection?

You inhale deeply. He has seen every part of you, heard every drop of desperation in your voice. It might be merely sexual, but there is still a certain level of intimacy within that as well. And if he is taking the time to soothe you and check in with you after such vigorous devotion, then it must mean something, right?

“No one…” you trail, unsure how to word it.

Chris brushes your loose strands out of your face. His patience stirs something foreign in the pit of your stomach. It’s warm and whole and welcoming— Happiness.

“I never get aftercare,” you breathlessly confess. “I was beginning to think I don’t deserve it.”

You swear you see anger flash in his eyes before sadness settles. “You don’t deserve to be treated like anything less than royalty,” he says, deep voice caressing your heart. “I will destroy anyone who thinks differently.”

You kiss him, soft and slow. He quietly hums in against your lips.

Pulling back slightly, you whisper, “Then, I’ll always be your princess.”

The Great Hall bustles with chatty students gossiping, fighting over food, or rough-housing. The bright morning sun shines through the grand windows as the smell of breakfast lures you in behind your roommates.

You rub your eyes and suppress a yawn.

“Come on,” Fiona says, tugging on your robes.

You shuffle after her, adjusting your tie. It still smells of vanilla and sandalwood, drawing memories of last night to the forefront of your mind. It’s not like you can ever forget what happened. If the smell of your tie did not invoke any memories, the ache of your muscles or lingering wetness in the apex of your thighs would do the trick.

An arm wraps around your waist. You stiffen when you turn to find Jim smirking down at you.

“Morn—” you begin, attempting to brush off his touch.

His grip tightens. You suppress a hiss, knowing any indication of pain will only set him off.

“You didn’t wait for me.” His lips are curled in a boyish smile, but his eyes simmer with annoyance.

You try to push his hand away again, but he only seems to squeeze your side harder. “I woke up late,” you explain before adding, “Please let go.”

“You woke up late,” he repeats with a dry chuckle. “You seem to have enough time to shower. I can smell your vanilla soap.”

In the corner of your eye, you find Minho, one of Chris’s Slytherin friends, halt mid-step as the mention of vanilla scents. He turns to look between you, Jim, and Chris, who sits a few paces away and is burning a hole through Jim’s skull. A knowing look flashes in his eyes and he smirks at you.

Jim catches him staring, furrowing his brows. “Fuck off, snake,” he quietly hisses.

Minho glares at him.

You take the distraction as an opportunity to slip away. Jim is already one step ahead of you, tugging you back into his chest with a pointed tug of your robe. You stumble back with a quiet yelp.

Minho, brows knotted, sets his jaw. “I think she wants you to let her go.”

“I think I told you to fuck off.”

“I think we’re over.”

Jim snaps his attention back to you. “What?”

You put all your strength into ripping yourself out of his grasp. “We’re,” you start, tugging your robe out of his fists, “done.”

“What do you mean?”

“We. are. not. dat-ing. an-y. more.”

The Great Hall falls silent— or perhaps it’s been quiet for some time. You are not sure and frankly, you couldn’t care less. All you want is to be as far away from Jim and his sweaty, red face as you possibly can.

“You— Don’t fucking speak to me like that,” he seethes, advancing towards you.

Chris stands between you and Jim. You don’t remember hearing his footsteps but here he is, towering over Jim. Minho and Changbin, a fellow Gryffindor, stand on either side of him.

You are suddenly all too aware of the quiet murmurs echoing around the Hall. In the corner of your eye, you catch your roommates nervously staring, confusion and concern crumpling their faces.

“Sit down,” Chris orders.

Jim sneers, but that anger of his soon falters as Minho and Changbin take a step forward.

“What is the meaning of this?” Headmistress McGonagall asks, emerging from the back door by the staff table. She hurries down the middle aisle, clutching onto her dress, a look of pure condemnation on her face.

Chris turns to the Headmistress with a charming smile. Minho and Changbin quietly slip back into their seats as Chris explains, “I was just reminding Mr Prewett that profanities are not tolerated at Hogwarts, Headmistress. You know how forgetful he could be.”

McGonagall narrows her gaze at Chris. She then looks at Jim and finally at you. Her attention bounces between you and Chris a couple more times before asking, “Is that so?”

You nod along with Chris.

Jim clenches his jaw.

“Well, I never thought I would see the day that Ms ____ would agree with Mr Bahng,” she announces, staring at the two of you a moment longer. She hums then finally turns to Jim. “Mr Prewett, please report to my office after breakfast.”

And with that, she waves the students back to their meal and returns to the staff table.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

“You’re going to regret this,” Jim mutters. “No one is going to treat you the way I do.”

You shoot him a humourless smirk. “Good.”

Chris stifles a laugh.

The sight of his playful eyes and plump lips have you suppressing your own smile. You shake off the flutter of your gut and find your place beside Fiona at the table.

“What the hell is going on with you and Bahng?” she asks as you fill your plate.

“You ever notice how Jim would always give me a plate with less food than anyone at this table and then rush me out of the Hall before I can go for seconds?”

Fiona stiffens.

“I didn’t either,” you confess, scooping another heaping spoonful of scrambled eggs. “I think Chris did though.”

Her green eyes drift back to where Chris sits. A little chuckle escapes her as she turns back to her food and shakes her head. “I think McGonagall was onto something,” she laughs.

“What do you mean?”

“I just never thought I would see the day that the Princess of Gryffindor would rule over the Demon of Slytherin.”

You can’t help but smirk, a rush of warmth blooming in your chest.“I suppose there is a balance between a roar and whisper after all.”

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work.

#chantober 2024 #mirohsaurorasociety #bang chan smut #bang chan fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #chan x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader

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omgkatherine01 · 2 months ago

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Beauty of A Dragon (Aemond Targaryen One Shot)

Summary: Your twin brother comes for you at night.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen reader

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

Warning: Incest, Smut.

Aemond had been Prince Regent for a few months now, and although the Valyrian steel of the Conqueror’s crown didn’t rest upon his head yet, it was now an undeniable fact to every member of the realm that he had been born for this. All could finally witness his real worth, his superiority and how good he was at being a commander, a King.

No, he excelled at it. The Blacks haven’t even dared to approach King’s Landing even once in the last few months, and under his command all fear him, all obey him. He was far better at this than his father ever was, than his older sister ever will be, and certainly than his broken brother is, tucked in his bed.

His new duties obliged him to be away often, to ride Vhagar and lead his armies on the usurpers who wanted to decimate them and take his city, but when he was back in the Red Keep, all he sees is you.

His twin sister.

He walked into your chambers using the secret tunnels, and saw you by your bed, pulling down your robes to go to bed.

He approached silently from behind you, but you could sense him. You looked at him over your shoulder and smirked lightly, "Nice try."

Aemond chuckled softly, the sound low and intoxicating in the stillness of the night. “You always were too sharp for your own good, sister,” he replied, stepping closer, the heat radiating from his body wrapping around you like a cloak.

With a practiced ease, he moved to the side of your bed, leaning against the ornate post, his sapphire eye glinting with mischief and hunger. You turned fully to face him, your heart racing at the sight of him—tousled hair framing his angular face, lips slightly parted as though they had just whispered secret promises.

"Are you disappointed now?" you teased softly as you stepped closer to his body. He hummed, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, lavishing it with a hungry touch of his lips.

His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Disappointed? Not in the slightest,” he murmured, his words laced with an intoxicating blend of desire and mischief. “In fact, I find it quite the opposite.”

Aemond’s arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between the two of you. The world outside faded into a distant memory; it was just you and him amidst the flickering candlelight of your chamber, where shadows danced around you like whispers of longing.

You tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck to him, an unspoken invitation that made his fingers twitch with eagerness. He nipped at the delicate skin there, drawing a soft gasp from your lips. “You know I can’t resist you,” he growled lowly, his voice thick with want.

Together you collapsed onto the plush bed, laughing breathlessly as he landed beside you. His fingers traced the delicate outline of your jaw, moving down to your collarbone, igniting a trail of heat wherever he touched. “You’re too tempting for your own good, sister,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as though sharing an intimate secret meant only for you.

Your heart raced in response, the thrill of having him so close overpowering the weight of propriety that lingered like a shadow in the corner. “And yet, here we are,” you whispered back, your own fingers slipping through his hair, tugging him closer still until his lips hovered just above yours.

He captured your mouth with fervor, kissing you with a hunger that had been building during his long absences. The taste of him was intoxicating; a mix of heat and desire that left you breathless, yearning for more. Aemond pulled away for just a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me to stop,” he challenged softly, though you both knew it was a challenge neither of you wished to accept.

“I would never,” you breathed, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his gaze. Aemond's lips curled into a smirk, a predator reveling in the thrill of the chase.

With that unspoken understanding, he captured your mouth again, deeper this time, as if he intended to draw every breath from your lungs. His hands explored your body with a fervency that set your skin alight; fingers skimming down the curve of your waist, over the swell of your hips, igniting every nerve in their path.

“Gods, how I’ve missed this,” he whispered against your lips, before trailing kisses down the side of your neck. Each brush of his mouth sent delightful shivers coursing through you, a beautiful torture that made you arch against him instinctively.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him closer as if you could meld into him completely. “And I you,” you confessed breathlessly.

Aemond's hand slid beneath your robes, his calloused fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin. You shivered at his touch, arching into him as he explored the curves of your body with a reverent hunger. His lips found yours again, capturing them in a searing kiss that left you breathless and aching for more.

With practiced ease, he unlaced your robes, peeling them away to reveal your naked form beneath. His eye roamed over you appreciatively, drinking in every detail as if committing it to memory. "Beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with desire. "Always so beautiful."

You reached for him, tugging at his own clothing with impatient hands. He chuckled softly, helping you remove the layers until he was as bare as you.

Aemond's scarred body pressed against yours, skin to skin, as his lips found yours once more. The kiss deepened, tongues dancing in a passionate duel as his hands roamed your curves. You arched into his touch, fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest and back.

He trailed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your pulse point. A soft moan escaped your lips as he lavished attention on your breasts, tongue swirling around each nipple. His hand slid lower, caressing your inner thigh before finding your wet heat. You gasped as he stroked you, building the pleasure with practiced skill.

"Please, Aemond," you whimpered, hips rocking against his hand. He smirked against your skin before positioning himself between your thighs. With one smooth thrust, he entered you fully, both of you groaning in unison. The sensation of him filling you, of the heat and hardness of his body pressed against yours, was enough to send shivers down your spine.

Aemond's hips began to move in a hard, demanding rhythm, driving himself deeper inside you with each thrust. Your nails dug into the comforter, the pleasure building within you like an inferno waiting to blaze out of control. His name escaped your lips on a gasp as he angled his hips just so, hitting that delicious spot deep within.

"That's it," he growled in your ear. "Let me hear you moan for me, sister."

His words only served to fan the flames of desire coursing through your veins. With each movement, Aemond brought you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. The room was filled with the sounds of your passion—heavy breathing, moans of pleasure, and the rustling of sheets tangled around entwined limbs.

As the rhythm of your bodies intensified, Aemond's lips found yours again in a searing kiss. His tongue danced with yours as his hips continued their relentless pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper inside you. The new angle drew a guttural moan from Aemond's throat.

"Gods, you feel incredible," he panted against your neck.

Your fingers raked down his back as waves of pleasure washed over you. Every nerve ending felt electrified. Aemond's muscular body moved above you with fluid grace, his skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat in the candlelight. You marveled at the raw power contained in his lithe form.

He shifted slightly, bracing himself on one arm while his other hand snaked between your bodies. His fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves and began trailing exquisite circles that sent you spiraling further into bliss. You gasped, the sensations overwhelming as pleasure built like a raging storm inside you.

"Aemond," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of your need. He lifted his head to meet your gaze, those piercing violet eyes darkened with lust and fierce determination.

"Look at me," he commanded softly, an order wrapped in velvet. You complied willingly, locking your eyes onto his as the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, lost in this moment, this tempest that had long been brewing between siblings forged by fire and fate.

He quickened his pace, thrusting deep and hard, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the chamber. Each movement ignited sparks beneath your skin; every brush of his fingers brought another wave of pleasure crashing over you. Aemond's breath became ragged as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours as if seeking the solace that only you could provide. “I want to feel you come undone for me,” he murmured, his voice thick and heated, vibrating through both of you.

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver of anticipation coursing through your body as he moved with unrelenting intensity. The tension coiling in your core grew tighter, winding around your heart like a serpent ready to strike. You could feel the familiar spark gathering, becoming a blazing inferno ready to consume you whole.

“No one else,” you gasped, the thought of anyone else in this moment felt sacrilegious. “Only you.” The declaration felt primal and raw, binding you both in a way that transcended the physical realm.

Aemond’s eyes flashed with something fierce at your promise, his movements growing more desperate, more possessive. He captured your mouth again in a kiss that was both claiming and tender—a reminder of who you were to each other amidst the chaos of the outside world. Aemond poured every ounce of himself into the kiss, each thrust echoing the rhythm of your hearts beating as one. You surrendered completely to him, your body arching upwards to meet his every move, urging him deeper, higher.

“Feel me, sister,” he breathed against your lips, the words a command and a plea. “Let go.”

With every stroke, you could feel the storm inside you reaching its peak—an avalanche of sensation that threatened to sweep you both away. It built and built, swallowing you whole until there was nothing left but the two of you entwined in passion.

Aemond's fingers worked their magic, sending ripples of pleasure cascading through you. “That’s it,” he urged, his voice a low growl filled with possessiveness, as if he were staking a claim not just on your body, but on your very soul. “Let it go.”

His intensity drove you onwards until with a final thrust, the dam broke, and you were swept away in a tide of ecstasy. The world around you shattered into a million brilliant fragments as the pleasure surged through every fiber of your being. Your cries filled the chamber, echoing off the stone walls, intertwining with Aemond’s deep groans as he followed you over the precipice.

Your body convulsed beneath him, waves of bliss crashing over you like a violent sea—each pulse igniting a fire that burned brightly in your core. Aemond’s grip on you tightened, his own release flooding through him in tandem with yours, creating an intoxicating blend of sensations that left you both gasping for breath.

As the intensity of your shared climax began to ebb, Aemond's movements slowed to a gentle rhythm. He pressed his forehead against yours, both of you panting softly as you basked in the afterglow. The air around you felt charged, crackling with the energy of your passion.

Aemond's eye met yours, a storm of emotions swirling in its depths. His fingers traced the curve of your cheek with surprising tenderness. "My beautiful sister," he murmured, voice husky. "My Queen."

You shivered at his words, feeling the truth of them resonate deep within you. Whatever crowns or thrones awaited outside these chamber walls, here in this moment, you ruled together absolutely.

Slowly, reluctantly, Aemond withdrew from you. But he didn't move far, instead gathering you close against his chest. You nestled into his embrace, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that grounded you in this turbulent world. The warmth of his skin against yours was a soothing balm, and you closed your eyes, savoring the intimacy of these quiet moments together.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #one shot #aemond oneshot

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nadvs · 9 months ago

Text

looking to score (one-shot)

pairing footballcaptain! rafe cameron x female headcheerleader! reader

rating explicit 18+

summary rafe has been flirting with you all season long. just when you think he’s never going to actually seal the deal, you do something to make him dangerously jealous and he realizes he’ll need you to prove who you’re loyal to.

» masterlist

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The state championship game coming up means there are two sure things you can count on.

One, you have to hold twice as many cheerleading practices to make sure your routines are clean and flawless.

And two, everyone on campus has Rafe Cameron’s name in their mouth.

He’s the starting quarterback, the captain of the football team, the fucking pride and joy of your college. For him, it’s awesome. He loves the attention. As for you, you’ve given up on trying to stifle your eye-rolls any time someone mentions him.

Rafe is the cockiest man you’ve ever known. Your interactions with him have been limited, but telling. He’s been teasing you all season, flirting and acting like he’ll finally put a move on you. But then he never does.

Before every home game, as team captains, you stand first in your respective line in the tunnelled corridor that leads out to the football field. This gives Rafe a nice few minutes to flirt with you and does he love to lay it on thick.

Today, finally, it’s the day of the championship game, and your college is hosting. The campus is buzzing with excitement, colorful signs in the stands, every parking lot full.

You’re waiting in your usual spot. The crowds in the stands outside are roaring and the conversations of cheerleaders and college staff are bouncing around the concrete tunnel.

The players aren’t here yet, but you know it’s only a matter of minutes before Rafe leads them down the hall, pausing next to you, messing with you like always.

It’s almost torment the way he works you up, then does nothing about it. Nonetheless, you look forward to this little routine you two have and hope he puts his money where his mouth is one day.

Rafe lives for the buzz before a home meet. The local fame he amasses, the promise of an hour-long game where he’s celebrated for his aggression, the opportunity to talk to you before he steps out onto the field… it’s electrifying.

When he saunters down the corridor towards you, all height and breadth and fucking ego, his eyes trail down your body like he’s imagining what’s underneath your cheerleading uniform.

“Damn,” he lowly mutters to you. “I swear, that skirt keeps getting shorter.” He leans back against the hard wall, waiting for his cue to rush the field.

“Wishful thinking,” you reply, crossing your arms.

Rafe soaks in the sight of your cleavage, the way your tits press together under your v-neck top when you stand like that. His blood runs hot like it always does when he sees you.

“This is a big game,” he says. He’s rolling his helmet in his big hands, his shoulder pads wide, the red of his jersey somehow making his blue eyes look even bluer. “You shouldn’t be distracting me.”

“Do you ever give it a rest?” you ask. He bites his lip, gaze dropping to your legs.

“We both know you don’t want that.” His smirk is so cocky, his dimples so taunting, that you have to look away from him. He’s almost too hot.

“Got me there, Rafe,” you say sarcastically. When you roll your eyes at him, his dirty mind immediately imagines you doing that from pleasure while he fucks you.

“Good, get used to saying my name,” he chuckles.

“Because I’ll be screaming it later, right?” you quip. “Original.” Regardless, you feel yourself flush a little when you imagine him on top of you.

“I’m just sayin’, be prepared,” he says, amused as hell. The band starts playing the familiar entrance music in the stands, prompting you to get ready to run out.

“You want me so bad, it’s embarrassing.” You kneel over to pick your pompoms off the ground, purposely perking your ass in his direction. He feels his groin tighten at the view.

“I’m not embarrassed,” he says. You meet his eyes and can’t stifle the smile on your face, shaking your head as he pulls his helmet over his head.

Goddamn, he wish he knew if he actually had a chance with you. But he hasn’t ever made a real move, sure you’d reject him in a heartbeat. It’d be too big a blow to his ego.

The game is a close one through all four periods. You and your team cheer on the sidelines as the sun starts to set, trying to weaken the thick tension that stretches across the field.

Rafe plays fast and rough like usual, but you’ve noticed he has a sudden rivalry with one of the opposing players. Every time he gets even remotely close to number 33, who’s clearly been tasked with taking Rafe down, he’s shouting at him or shoving him.

His aggression is hot. Always has been. You look away from the field as if someone can read your mind.

Of course, it’s Rafe’s touchdown that wins the game for the home team. You’re elated, the cheering and applause and energy around you magnetizing.

You and the other cheerleaders storm the field, followed by the marching band and everyone on the coaching team.

In the crowd, you see Rafe with his helmet off, smiling the biggest you’ve ever seen. The stadium lights are strong, washing him in a bright light, showcasing the handsome planes of his face.

“Don’t rub it in, huh?” you hear. You turn to see a player from the other team smirking at you, his helmet hanging off his fingers.

“Kind of my job,” you reply, gesturing to your pompoms. He laughs, nodding as he looks down. Okay, he’s cute.

Rafe’s impulse is to look for you, brag to you about his win and about how you have no choice but to cheer for him.

When his eyes land on you, you’re standing on the field looking so fucking cute with your hip cocked, smiling at…

His blood boils. You’re smiling at another guy. The guy who’s been dogging him and pissing him off the whole game. Number 33. Why the fuck are you smiling at him?

Rafe can’t control himself. He starts to push through the crowd to get you the hell away from that asshole, when the coach stops him, talking to him about their play.

He loses sight of you and it makes every sore muscle in his body tense.

When the team heads inside, Rafe doesn’t even have the patience to peel off his muddy uniform. He leaves his helmet in his locker and rushes out of the room to find you.

He’s pissed off at your lack of loyalty. He’d like to think it’s because he cares about the team that much, but no. You’re his. Some dickhead, especially one on the opposing team, isn’t going to flirt his way into your pants.

When he spots you walking through one of the hallways that surrounds the stadium, he rushes to you and grabs your wrist.

You look up to see Rafe staring down at you with hard eyes.

“Why were you talking to that asshole?” he asks over the sound of the chattering crowds surrounding you.

Excitement burns through you. Is he talking about the player who flirted with you? Damn. He’s jealous. You give him a gratified smile.

“Only asshole I talked to today was you,” you reply.

“What did he say?” he demands, voice low. What’s worse is that you fucking smiled at him, a smile that should only be reserved for him, but he won’t say that out loud.

“He was hitting on me,” you reply, smirking. “Hopefully he’ll actually do something about it. Unlike you.”

Your response throws him for a second. If you want him to follow through, to finally resolve months of sexual tension, he’ll gladly fucking do it.

He angrily yanks you towards him and you allow him to guide you through the throngs of spectators.

Rafe has one thing in mind. He knows where the visiting teams park their bus. And he’s taking you there.

He roughly pushes open the heavy door to the back parking lot, pulling you behind him. The evening air is warm and the area is dark and fenced up and all you can hear is his panting.

Hard hands find your hips and push you against the cold, metal wall of the bus. Rafe’s finally facing you again, his stare penetrating. Your heart is hammering with anticipation.

“You want me to do something about it, huh?” he rasps. He pushes his hips against yours, grinding against you.

“Fucking finally,” you breathe.

His lips are on yours as he huffs a chuckle, unable to believe that you’re crumbling for him this damn easily.

His tongue runs against yours and his body feels so firm, the smell of his sweat musky and so fucking sexy. You feel the bulge of his hardening cock against your groin and you buck against him.

His hand eagerly runs up your thigh, below your skirt. When his fingers press against your cunt, you jolt, your breath stopping for a second.

“You wet for me?” he asks, pads of his fingers pushing up against your entrance. His breath is hot, his nose nudging yours. Arousal coils in your stomach, tight and hot.

You feel so soft and moist through your panties. Rafe knows he won’t be able to simply touch you for much longer. He needs to be inside you.

“Mhm,” you can only desperately hum.

His other hand moves from your hip to your face, squeezing your cheeks together as he looks down at you.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“Yes,” you reply clearly, eyes boring into his.

Excitement pools in you when he moves his hands away to pull down his pants. You eagerly hike up your skirt and yank down your underwear.

It’s so fucking insane to be doing this out here. Someone could come through the door in a second. But the risk of it just adds to the thrill.

You revel in the sight of Rafe’s hard, curved cock in his hand. He’s fucking huge. You can admit the ego is warranted.

Rafe loves your expression, the way your lips are parted in surprise.

“Damn, look at you,” he huffs with a smirk. “You want this dick so bad.”

You eagerly lift your knee for him and he takes the invitation immediately, holding your leg up against his hip.

The feeling of him lining himself up against your cunt is mind-blowing. He pushes into you slowly, every inch feeling better than the last.

“How long have you wanted this?” he grunts once he bottoms out.

“Feels like fucking forever,” you admit breathlessly. “What took you so long?”

“Just be grateful you’re getting it,” Rafe replies. So cocky. Typical.

He pulls back then thrusts into you. Hard. You let out a strained sob and he inhales sharply at how nicely you’re squeezing around him.

“Oh, my God,” you whimper. The leg holding you up is wobbly already, making you grateful his hand is firmly hooked underneath your knee.

“You think that idiot can fuck you like this?” he says, driving in and out of you.

“No,” you say, and you mean it. You’re not sure anybody can pound into you so effortlessly, with so much passion.

You dip your head back, eyes squeezed shut while he fucks you.

“Don’t fucking talk to him again,” he orders, his hand rubbing over your chest and roughly kneading your tits.

This jealousy, this ownership, is so fucking hot. He continues to pull in and out so hard and so fast that you know you’ll be sore tomorrow.

“I won’t,” you promise. He’s so big inside you, stretching you so nicely, that you feel your stomach tightening already. “Shit. I’m gonna cum.”

“Do it loudly,” he says with a self-satisfied laugh. “And say my name.”

You obey, and when the orgasm rocks through you, your blood runs hot and sparks go off through your entire body. Rafe feels you squeezing him even tighter and he groans, cumming inside you in hot waves, twitching.

You bite your lip as he pulls out, feeling aftershocks of pleasure rocking through you.

Realizing what you’ve just done, that you’re in a fully public area, you frantically pull up your panties and readjust your skirt. Rafe looks amused by your nervousness, slowly getting dressed again.

“That was…” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Rafe leans down, capturing your face in his hands again to kiss you deeply.

A loud bang forces you apart. You see a player from the opposing team stepping out the door, trailed by the rest of his team.

A few seconds earlier, and you’d have been mortified. But Rafe takes the opportunity to kiss you again before taking your hand and pulling you through the door, past the group of guys.

“Get home safe,” Rafe mutters to them with a smirk, his tone taunting and entirely disingenuous. He spots number 33 and smiles at him with nothing but contempt.

He squeezes your hand and tilts his head towards you as the two of you walk by the sullen man.

“Looks like you lost,” Rafe half-laughs, very clearly not talking about the game.

thank you to this anon for inspiring this fic! if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#i was gonna post a series next but i got this one-shot request and i couldn’t stop thinking about it #anyways i’ve discovered that i love college au’s?#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #obx smut #rafe x y/n #rafe x you

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