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spinningwebsandtales · 5 months ago

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Imagine Meeting Up With Ken After He's Moved Back To Japan

Ken Sato X FemReader

Rating: G

Warnings: Reader has a slight panic attack, touch of angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

(A/N:) I have never watched Ultraman in my life and I never planned on it honestly. But dang I saw the trailer ad for Ultraman Rising and they barely give you a glimpse of Ken but it was enough. I watched it. I loved it. And now I'm obsessed with Ken Sato. End of story. I have lots in my drafts I want to write for him so keep an eye out! But until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The day that Ken Sato had moved out of your life had been the saddest one you could remember. Being kids, the adults didn't see it as such a big deal but between the two of you, it seemed like the world had ended. You both kept in touch but it still didn't make the distance seem any shorter. Years passed by and video calls turned into phone calls. Phone calls turned into missed calls. Missed calls turned into text messages and even then that didn't last long. As you grew older you let the thought of seeing Kenji again go and then the pain finally eased. You never felt that ache again, until you watched the news.

Super star player Ken Sato returns to his home country and that is the day your little world stopped spinning. Your phone rang off the hook as your friends tried to call you.

"Did you hear," your friend screamed making you grimace, "Kenji is back!"

"Yep," you sighed. "It's all over the news. Hard to ignore it."

"You don't sound excited! I thought he was your best friend when you were kids?!"

"He was, but that was a long time ago and now he's this superstar baseball player. Why would he remember me when he's made it so big?"

"Don't make that excuse, you need to go see him. You'll see that he'll be just as happy to see you as you are of him."

Despite your better judgement and a long sleepless night, you found yourself at the Giant's stadium. You had tried Ken's house only for him to be gone. And despite feeling like a stalker you tried both day and night. When that didn't work you tried looking at the restaurant you both loved as kids, no luck there either. You knew the stadium would be your best bet but you didn't want to get carted off for trespassing or embarrass Ken by your being there. Maybe you were using those as excuses. Or maybe you were terrified by the face that he probably wouldn't remember you or he'd laugh in your face that you came crawling back. Your heart slammed against your chest and your breathing turned into panicked gasps. This was impossible, you didn't know why you even bothered.

Reporters began to exit the building, pushing you along as you tried to calm yourself. The chatter of the group was too much for you at the moment. You stepped away towards a quieter part of the stadium, not noticing that you were entering in a restricted part for players and managers only. The quiet helped calm you and now you finally realized where you were at.

"Miss are you lost," a man wearing a security uniformed approached you and your panic starting to rear it's ugly head once more.

"I'm sorry I got lost," you eased back, clinging tightly to your bag's strap.

"It happens," he said politely. "May I escort you back to the main entrance?"

"Yes please."

You deflated as you followed the security guard. It didn't seem like you were ever going to see your best friend ever again. Your heart broke and you refused to let yourself cry until you got home. You almost made it back to the hall where you got lost in the flood of reporters when a voice calling your name had you freezing. He couldn't possibly know it was you? After all this time did he really remember you so well?

"Kenji?"

"I thought it was you," he grinned.

You sucked in a breath at the sight of the boy you once knew. You could tell he was handsome on the TV screen but you weren't prepared for the sight in real life. Even as a kid you had a crush on him, you just didn't realize it until later. Your mom thought it had been cute but now you just felt embarrassment. With longer sleek black hair and eyes that were so dark they sucked you in. You stopped breathing for a second when he finally stood in front of you. His eyebrow raised, he bent over waving a hand in your face. Lean and tall, it was no wonder he was an amazing athlete.

"Hello," Ken stared leaning over. "You still with me?"

"It's so good to see you," you stumbled stepping back at the proximity. "I didn't know you were coming back so soon."

He grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "It wasn't planned honestly. Losing mom and dad needing me."

You gasped grabbing his arm, "Kenji I'm so sorry."

You glanced to your hand and you quickly let him go, cheeks flushing brightly.

"It's okay," his smile wavered. "Have to grow up sometime."

"But," you started feeling horrible.

"It was good seeing you again," Ken replied turning away. Though this was the first time you'd seen him in so long, he still had that same way of showing his true emotions. The slightly hunched shoulders and it felt like all the warmth suddenly left the room.

"Kenji wait," you yelled.

He turned keeping his hands in his pockets. The sorrow in his eyes had you blinking back tears and you knew it was time to be brave. He remembered you and though he wasn't the same person when he left, he was still your friend. Yeah a little taller, a little more selfish, a lot of ego (you couldn't deny he earned the right), and a lot more handsome, but Kenji Sato all the same.

"Wanna go get something to eat? Our old haunt is still open and I would love to treat you. I've," you paused. "I've missed you a lot actually."

Though it didn't quite reach his eyes Ken smiled, nodding in agreement, "I'd like that. But I'm buying, no arguments."

"Fine Mr. Super Baseball Man."

He laughed, "You haven't changed at all."

That was a little disappointing. You were hoping he'd at least see how much you've grown, while he was away.

The restaurant was busy, a line forming outside but you both didn't mind waiting. Kenji hadn't eaten here in years and if you were honest, you hadn't either. You tried once after he left and though the food always tasted delicious, it wasn't the same without him. You both were ushered in a little bit after arriving and after all this time the owners remembered you both. Ordering the same thing as you both did all those years ago, it didn't take long for contentment to ease between you both. Ken's foot tapped beneath the table and you could tell he was struggling.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to," you spoke up. Not wanting him to feel like he had to do anything to make you comfortable. Though you still felt awkward, especially when fans made their way to him for pictures and autographs, you couldn't deny that it was still easy being around him.

"It's not that I don't want to," he groaned, now drumming his fingers on the table. "It's been forever. I should have so many things to tell you and I do! I just...I don't know where to begin."

"Start with baseball that seems to be going well," you grinned.

"Ha! You could say it is going decent," he nodded. "It was different in America, I'm curious to see how it's going to go being back home."

"I imagine so. Not going to lie though, home wasn't the same either when you left. It felt like I had to start all over, it was kind of terrifying."

"I'm sorry."

You touched his hand, "It's not your fault. We were both kids. Life changes, gets in the way, separates us from loved ones. We had no control over it, like we don't have much control over anything now. I'm glad you were able to find your way Kenji. I'm glad you made a life for yourself and I'm glad you got to follow your dream. I can tell how much baseball means to you."

Ken nodded a small smile pulling at his lips again, "It does. But I think this moment right here with you means more to me than baseball right now."

You flushed brightly. You weren't expecting a reply like that but it made you feel warm inside. You opened your mouth to reply, though unsure of what you could possibly say when your orders were set down before you. Saying thanks for the food and the chime of you both breaking chopsticks apart. Another peaceful silence stayed between you both as you both slurped noodles. True to his word Ken paid for the meal and you both left with full stomachs. Your heart felt lighter and you could have sworn you were walking on air. Glancing up at Ken, you caught him watching you intently.

"Something on your mind there Mr. Sato?"

Ken shook his head giving you a look like he'd tasted something bitter, "Please don't ever call me that again. Making me feel like my father over here."

You could tell things weren't good between Ken and his dad so you didn't pry. "Okay Kenji," you crooned making him shiver.

You didn't realize how you made him feel. When Ken saw you lost in the stadium, following that security guard his heart had skipped a beat. You two had always been close as children and even though you had stopped communicating for years, what he felt for you never waned. Having you here by his side, so close and yet still so far away, it felt like a dream. One he never wanted to wake from. With a soft touch, his fingers trailed down your arm leaving goosebumps in it's wake. You stared up at him, soft eyes taking in every bit of him. He never felt so naked or alive. He didn't stop until he found the back of your hand and still he slipped further, pointer stroking against your digits. Then he bit the bullet, taking your hand into his. He almost laughed at how much smaller your hand was compared to his, but he didn't want to ruin the moment. He squeezed tighter, careful not to hurt you in anyway. You stiffened at first, shocked at him being so bold. But you had to remember he was used to getting what he wanted.

"Would it be possible that we could do this again," he asked. "Maybe somewhere more formal?"

You nodded unable to speak. He kissed the back of your hand and you could have melted right then.

"I would like that very much Ken," your voice wobbled but you didn't let it keep you from speaking.

The answering smile had you in a puddle, the only thing keeping you upright was Kenji himself as you both started reminiscing. And now that some things had been brought out in the open, you both found yourselves talking a lot easier as the past few years passed by with every verbal exchange. You never felt so happy and all it took was for the game of baseball to bring back your best friend and you were ready to see what the future held in store.

#Ken Sato X Reader #Ken Sato / Reader #Kenji Sato X Reader #Kenji Sato / Reader #Ken Sato #Kenji Sato #Ultraman Rising #Ken Sato Imagine #Ultraman Rising Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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dietcokegirly12 · 29 days ago

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“Call Me”

featuring satoru gojo and suguru geto ♰.𖥔 ݁ ˖🔪

── ⋆˙⟡⋅☏. ₊˚ ☎︎⋆˙⟡⋅ ── ⋆˙⟡⋅☏. ₊˚ ☎︎⋆˙⟡⋅ ── ⋆˙

art credit: @aransmind (plsss check them out their art is so.. (っ´ω`c)♡

── ⋆˙⟡⋅☏. ₊˚ ☎︎⋆˙⟡⋅ ── ⋆˙⟡⋅☏. ₊˚ ☎︎⋆˙⟡⋅ ── ⋆˙

I needed to write a fanfic w these fanarts before halloween is over, so pls take this jjk oneshot ik its not my usual content but (♡﹃♡)

tags: squirting, overstim, knifeplay, threesome, oral (fem!recieving), masturbation, teasing, spitting, edging, degrading, cock piercing, unprotected sex, double penetration, creampie, etc etc

word count: 2.7k of straight filth

100 FOLLOWER SPECIAL!!! i love and appreciate every single one of u bakas, and im so grateful you guys enjoy my writing you all mean the world to me :3

⋆˙⟡⋅☠︎︎☏𓌪₊˚⁺——— ⋆˙⟡⋅☠︎︎☏𓌪₊˚⁺ ——— ⋆˙⟡⋅☠︎︎☏𓌪₊

It was Halloween night, and you had been sprawled across the couch, idly watching Halloweentown, and going back and forth to the door to give out candies to trick-or-treaters when you heard it.

Riiing! Riiing!

Your phone lit up with an incoming call from an unknown number, which was unusual at this time. Confused, you press accept, holding it up to your ear.

"You hang up, and you die darling."

Rather than being frightened of the threat however, you laugh.

"Suguru, I know it's you."

Your two best friends, Satoru and Suguru, were always doing dumb shit like this, pranking you at any given opportunity, and you knew that this time was surely no different.

In an act of defiance, and maybe just to see what would happen, you brush off his warning and hang up, the dial tone signifying the end of the call.

The second you do however, you hear two ominous knocks ring out through the stillness of the night.

Startled, your head turns toward the door, feeling a hint of fear and.. something else, for the first but certainly not the last time that night.

Standing up, you hesitantly walk over to open the door, unsure what awaited you.

It swings open to reveal a Satoru dressed in a complete Ghostface costume, mask and everything, holding a knife in one hand.

You gasp softly as he begins to stalk toward you, placing his hands on either side of your hips and pushing you back onto the couch you were just on.

Your phone begins ringing again, and he simply stares at you, breathing softly as you reach for it, picking it up a little shakily.

"Hello?"

"What did I say doll?"

Your breathing slightly picks up as you listen, Satoru standing motionless before you.

"Now, since you decided to disobey me, our little friend over here is going to have to do something about that, hm?"

You gasp as in one fluid motion, Satoru has you pinned, the heat of his body pressed firmly against yours making your heart rate increase.

The hand that's holding the prop knife lifts to brush against your cheek, and it's then that you realize it's real, the cool tip of the metal making you shiver as he lightly draws it down your jaw.

He keeps going, past your neck and between the valley of your breasts, until it's grazing just in between your thighs, where the wetness of your arousal is rapidly pooling.

You bite back a whine as he ever so slightly brushes the very tip of the knife up and down the seam of your panties, having only put on a baggy t-shirt prior to this, expecting a cozy night in.

It's dangerous, and you know with one wrong movement, the knife could nick the most sensitive part of you, but it just felt so good.

With skilled fingers, Satoru's hand holding the knife comes to the strap of your lacy black panties, gently tugging it down using only the tip, and dragging it off your body to reveal your glistening pussy.

His head tilts, the hollow black eyes and stretched mouth of his mask seeming to stare at you tauntingly.

"Touch yourself." Geto's heated voice over the phone demands, and you inhale sharply as Satoru draws back expectantly.

Embarrassment flushes your cheeks at the prospect of being intimate with yourself in front of your two best friends, but that quickly fades when Satoru's knife warningly grazes your thigh, urging you to hurry.

You bite your lip nervously, reaching one hand in between your thighs to circle your sopping wet cunt, your fingers gliding easily across your slickness.

You hear Satoru inhale, and spurred on, you continue, adding a finger into your entrance and beginning to slowly pump it in and out, biting back a moan.

The obscene sounds of your cunt squelching become the only sound in the room, and your back arches as you lose yourself in the pleasure, eyes fluttering shut and forgetting about the fact that both Satoru and Suguru were still very much there.

As your pace increases, and you add a finger to rub your clit in unison, you can feel yourself getting closer, whimpering softly as your stomach tightens and coils. You spread your legs wider, orgasm so close you can practically taste it as you prepare for the whiteness of pleasure to overwhelm you and explode behind your eyelids and... it stops.

Your eyes fly open as Satoru's muscular arms pin your wrists together and hold them firmly over your head, leaving your cunt to throb desperately from the loss.

"You don't get to come yet, pretty." Geto's voice.

"Not with how rudely you hung up on us earlier."

You whine softly in protest, trying to arch your hips up but Satoru is quick to stop you, pinning your body to the couch.

"Please I-I'm sorry, I thought it was a prank!"

You break off into a sudden moan as Satoru's fingers come to cup your dripping pussy, long fingers spreading across you.

His other hand raises to lift the Ghostface mask off his head, revealing messy white hair sticking up in all directions, and hazy blue eyes wild and frantic-looking. "Fuck.. need to.."

Before you can even react, he drags you toward him, and buries his face between your thighs, inhaling deeply as his tongue instantly flicks out to taste you.

"Here's what's going to happen, doll. If you can manage to hold off, and not come within a certain period of time, we'll reward you. If you do come, well..." His voice breaks off, and you can practically hear the smirk on his face.

You open your mouth to respond but only small whines and moans manage to come out as Satoru settles into a more comfortable position, busying himself between your legs as his nose bumps your clit.

"Fuck!" Not wanting to anger Suguru more than you already have, you grab a fistful of Satoru's snowy white locks intending to pull him off of you, but your body betrays you and you end up only pulling him closer until his whole face is pressed right against your throbbing pussy.

You knew at this rate you weren't going to last, especially with how close you already were from earlier, and desperately, your hips twitch upward, soft pleas and moans for him to slow down proving fruitless.

He begins kitten-licking your cunt gently, and your legs tighten slightly around his head as you focus on something, anything other than the man between your spread thighs, trying your best to hold off as long as you can.

"How's that feel?" The deep purr of Suguru's voice snaps you out of your haze as you remember you're still on the phone with him, and you glance over quickly, flushed.

"Ah i-it.."

Ever eager for your attention, Satoru takes your sensitive clit into his mouth and sucks, and it's all over.

Your thighs clamp around his head tightly, and you feel him groan as you come hard, drenching his face in your sweet slick, eyes rolling back in your head, slutty moans of his name spilling out of you as white-hot pleasure consumes you.

Just then, the creak of the door opening cuts into your haze, and with a jolt, you see Suguru dressed in a similar get-up, his mask tilted up on his head to reveal the glinting piercings on his smirking lips, phone in hand.

"Well, well, well."

He shuts the door with his foot, coming over to the couch you're splayed across to coo at you softly, one large hand coming to slip under your shirt, and squeeze your breast firmly, causing you to whimper in response.

Satoru's still lapping up the remnants of your essence, lifting his head to gaze at you almost adoringly. "She's s' sweet, 'sugu."

He chuckles in response. "I bet she is. Though she still is a disobedient little whore, and one who can't seem to learn her lesson, at that."

Your breathing is shallow as your eyes flick between the two, unsure of what's going to happen next now that you hadn't listened to Suguru.

He leans close to you, lips almost brushing yours as he pauses just a few millimeters away. "Since you like to be a little slut, we're just going to have to treat you like one."

With that being his only warning, he nods to Satoru who quickly stands up from the couch to start undressing, the black velvety fabric of his costume falling to the floor in a pile.

Suguru does the same, revealing toned, muscular thighs and rippling abs, his muscles flexing and tightening as he steps out of his costume.

Next to go are their boxers, revealing two, very impressive cocks, both hard with pearly pre-cum beading from their slits.

You take a moment to ogle them for a moment, never expecting your two best friends to have such pretty dicks.

Satoru's is so long, longer than Suguru's, and sticks up straight in the air, flushed a pale pink and coming to a perfect pointed Cupid's arrow at the top, veins running all along it.

Suguru, on the other hand, is not as long but he's thick. So thick in fact, you don't think you can fit your hand all the way around him. The tip is a dark reddish hue, and what most draws your eye to him is the presence of piercings. Three, to be exact, all leading up to the thick, mushroom head of his cock, leaking pre-cum all over his stomach.

He nods again at Satoru, and they both put the masks back on, leaving two naked Ghostfaces in front of you.

Your breathing increases, this being a fantasy straight out of one of your wet dreams, but before you can speak, Suguru's large hands come to grip tightly on your hips, flipping you over roughly onto all fours.

Your cheeks heat up, and you whimper softly, hearing shuffling behind you as they move into position.

One of their hands comes to smooth over the curve of your ass, as they line up their cock to your entrance, gliding the tip over your slick folds as lubricant. "Ready, love?"

Satoru's voice. You nod, and he immediately pushes in, stretching you as he tries to fit all of him into you.

You cry out softly as you feel him deeper than anyone has ever gone before, but he shushes you gently, bending down to whisper softly into your ear, "It's not even halfway in, love."

Choked whines and moans pour out from you as, inch by inch he slowly sheathes himself deep inside, your cunt tightening and rippling around him adjustingly.

Before you can get a chance to recover however, you feel another thick, spongy tip prodding at you. Suguru.

"Fuck 'sugu!.. mnngh.. 's not gonna fit!" You desperately try to move, but only succeed in sucking Satoru even further in, making him groan into your ear, shifting to make more room for Suguru.

" 's okay, baby. Jus'.. fuck.. let us do all the work." He begins to slowly slide himself in, you desperately scrabbling for purchase on the couch as he stuffs you even fuller.

You feel the cold metal of his piercings brushing your walls, and let out a broken wail as you desperately try to hold yourself up, your legs already shaking.

When he slowly continues to push into you, the seconds seeming to stretch on painfully, you instinctively try to crawl up the couch, but Satoru is quick to pull you back by the hips, slamming Suguru's cock into you fully as he pulls you even further against them.

Suguru gifts you a sharp smack! on the ass, growling as his voice turns slightly breathier. "Don't run from us now, doll."

You're so full at this point, you can barely breath, able to feel them all the way in your stomach, tears filling your lash line as you desperately try to accommodate both of them.

Roughly, Suguru suddenly pushes you forward, your face squishing into the cushion as he lifts your ass higher, your back arching instinctively.

They both groan at the lewd sight, your abused, stuffed cunt on full display for them to see and use as they please, slick dribbling down between your thighs as muffled moans spill out of you.

"G'na move now, mmkay?" Suguru's husky voice sounds above you, and you can hear Satoru struggling for breath as he slightly pushes his hips forward.

You take a deep breath to prepare yourself, but all the air leaves you in a soft huff as they begin thrusting into you, perfectly synchronized with each other, the rough metal of Suguru's cock catching on your tight walls.

"Fuck I- nngh.. t'much t'much!" You can barely breathe with both of their pulsing cocks steadily rocking into you, drool seeping into the cushion below you as your eyes flutter and roll back, your ass arching higher.

"You can take it, baby." Satoru practically whines out, the rich soft grunts spilling from Suguru in your ear causing your pussy to clamp desperately around both of them, hisses and soft curses sounding from behind you.

Your sweet whines and whimpers become progressively louder and louder as the room fills with the harsh smacking sound of skin against skin, and Suguru grabs a fistful of your hair, lifting your head up to cover your mouth with his hand, your teeth instantly sinking into his palm as tears spill down your cheeks freely.

You can feel your stomach tightening as they continue plunging into you relentlessly, Satoru whimpering pathetically as Suguru's thick, veiny cock grinds against his own, throbbing faintly inside you.

"S'fucking good. Why didn't we do this sooner?" Suguru grunts out, either to you or Satoru, you don't know as the only thing you can do is whine, pushing back on them slightly as warmth builds in your tummy.

One of Satoru's hands snake around you to rub your clit in unison with the harsh thrusts they're delivering, your mouth falling slack open from the sheer pleasure of it all.

As Satoru continues pressing against your throbbing clit, Suguru begins to roughly grope your breasts, squeezing and pinching tightly before moving down to your stomach to press against the bulge that disappears and reappears with every thrust.

Your climax now rapidly approaching, you turn your head over your shoulder to look at them, which turns out to be a huge mistake because what you see resembles something straight out of a porno.

Suguru has his head tilted back, hips languidly thrusting in and out, his mask slipping downward slightly to reveal long black hair fanning out messily around his shoulders. Satoru is a whiny, pathetic mess, his mask not being able to conceal how flustered and needy he looks as his hips piston in and out, shamelessly rubbing himself against Suguru's dick for more friction as his pale chest heaves up and down with every breath.

Before you even realize what's happening, you're coming, a muffled whine leaving your throat as your orgasm crests and crashes over you, a thin glistening geyser gushing out of you and covering both their cocks and chest as you squirt, not even realizing as your body falls forward, slumping onto the couch.

"Fuck baby, did you jus'..." Satoru can't hold back anymore after the lewd display you just gave, and comes with a groan, spilling himself deep into your velvety walls.

Suguru follows close behind, a milky white ring forming around his base from just how much cum he's pumping into you, hips stuttering erratically.

They both collapse on top of you, the weight of their bodies against yours comforting as you all gasp for breath together, sticky bodies sliding along each other, them pulling their masks off to reveal mussed hair and sweaty, flushed faces.

After a few moments of coming down from their highs, they both pull their softening cocks out, leaving your sticky, sweat-sheened body to heave for breath, desperately needing a reprieve.

But, you don't get a chance, as Suguru suddenly flips you back over, and spreads your legs wide, spitting a warm glob of saliva onto your sensitive, ruined cunt still seeping all the cum they had just filled you with mere moments ago.

You twitch, overstimulated and trying to turn away, but he just holds you down by the hips as Satoru crawls closer, his head bending down close, warm breath fanning over your poor pussy, and soft white hair brushing against your inner thighs.

"Come on baby, you haven't given us our Halloween treat yet."

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st4rymoon · 1 year ago

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✧𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬✧

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏: 𝐓𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 [sorry for the hold up I’ve been so busy this month 😭 it’s not even October anymore but just pretend like it is]

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: switch Miguel, p in v, unprotected sex, manhandling, size kink, Miguel is a slut for thighs, slight argument with reader and her mom, subby Miguel, nerd Miguel, teasing, language, pet names, soft dom miguel, flirting, sexual tension

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

You really hate your mom right now. You told her about your struggle in chemistry and now here you were. Apparently to her, her best friends brother happens to be an expert in everything.

“You know he can be some sort of killer right? You just GAVE HIM MY ADDRESS?” You yelled into the phone. “Yeah yeah, I’ve met him hundreds of times! You remember him don’t you?” She sighed.

“That doesn’t mean you should give him my damn address mom. What the hell are you thinking” you seethed.

You remember him somewhat, well when you saw him last you were in your early teens. He was just a year older than you and annoyed the hell out of you. “Don’t be so dramatic. He’ll be there in 30” your mom ended the phone call leaving you in anger.

What in her right mind would lead her to giving him your address? Maybe if you leave now you can make an excuse, Right? No. You know your mom would tease you about this if you left.

You fixed yourself up and sat on the couch, watching your usual binge worthy show while waiting for Einstein to show up at your front door.

You tensed as you heard a knock at the door. Looking through the peep hole, you could see the a broad chest with backpack straps on their back. God how tall is this guy?

You opened the door and see the once messy haired short teen you once knew now a complete behemoth of a man. His shirt hugging his thick arms and chest while some grey sweats hugged around his waist.

His glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, dark messy wavy hair, chiseled jaw, god he looked like a Greek god.

Miguel couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows slightly as he saw you, he definitely didn’t remember you like this either. His eyes instinctively moved to your plump thighs as your shorts rode up high. Your thigh high socks definitely didn’t help.

He cleared his throat in hopes to snap himself out of it but you caught yourself before he could “Miguel right?” You smiled. “Ye- yeah, yeah” he nodded “Your mom gave me your address? I told her it might be a little weird if I just showed up but she wouldn’t take no for an answer” he chuckled awkwardly.

“That sounds like my mother, if your busy and all you don’t need to worry about it”

“I don’t have anything going on, but hey I’m already here right? Might as well?” He joked. The atmosphere was tense but you couldn’t help but invite him in “come in” you smiled and gave him space to walk in.

Miguel’s eyes scanned through your apartment, clean and tidy which he liked “So you’re struggling with Chem right?” He hummed as he turned back to look at you.

His breath hitched as he saw you bend down to get a few waters from the mini-fridge. Your ass was in perfect display as the flimsy white socks hugged the back of your thighs. His eyes flew down to his feet as you stood up and walked towards him.

You were unaware of his eyes lingering on you. You sat besides him, as you pulled out some of your work. “I’m struggling with these conversions�� you sighed as you stared down at your insufferable homework.

When you looked up at Miguel you swear you could’ve jumped onto him and kissed him.

He was staring down at you, his eyes already on yours as he nodded. His body slumped slight towards you, close enough to feel how warm he was “What’s the thing that’s confusing?” He hummed.

You stuttered as you explained it to him. He nodded and started his teaching. You didn’t know how long you were studying, it flew by surprisingly fast and helped the tension disappear.

“I need a break” you whined as you slammed the book in annoyance “I think you deserved one” Miguel laughed as he placed the books back onto the table.

“How have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while” you smiled, sitting on your thighs now and body completely facing him. “I- I’ve been good. A lot of studying per usual”

“How about you? You definitely aren’t the same person I remember” Miguel joked “stressed as always and same here, I definitely didn’t expect this new you. I mean I remember the annoying freshman Miguel” you teased.

“New me?” He chuckled “I mean you grew like 10 ft and look like a damn super hero” you chuckled. Miguel felt himself heat up at your compliment. Surprisingly, he didn’t get many.

Maybe it was because he was a hermit most of the time but it took him by surprise “Thanks” he nervously chuckled as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His eyes scanned your body in a way that told you what he was thinking, you chuckled as he cleared his throat once he noticed you looking at him.

“So you live near here?” You hummed, Miguel nodded with his mouth slightly agar as you curled up your thighs onto your chest, slightly exposing your plump cunt through your shorts. “Ye- yeah I do, about 20 minutes” he nodded.

“It’s a surprise that we go to the same university yet I’ve never seen you” Miguel try’s his best to not make things awkward. “Different schedule’s, the campus is huge” you teased.

You could read Miguel like a book, it was cute. He was nervous despite being older than you and the obvious size difference. He was fidgeting with his hands and trying his best to not eye fuck you right now.

“You’re really trying hard not to check me out” you chuckled as you noticed him glare down at your tits “I- no I wasn’t I was-“ he stuttered. “Don’t worry, you're a nice piece of eye candy too” you cooed.

You could see his chest rising with every breath, every inch you scooted the heavier he breathed “why are you so nervous?” You cooed. “Im not” miguel replied, his eyes his glued onto yours ”sure”

“Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite” you pouted. Miguel really hated you right now. He was a gentleman and always contained himself. But seeing you tease him in your pretty pjs was getting to him. “What a shame” he whispered as his finger softly ghosted past your leg.

You perked up at the comment, what a shame? You watched as his fingers slowly rubbed up your skin. A whine escaped your lips as he pulled back, his eyes shooting up at the sound.

Miguel couldn’t help it, he leaned and kissed you. He had no idea why he did it, he isn’t the type to do these things but fuck did it feel good.

You jumped onto his lap, both of you messily kissing each other after a few hours of seeing each other. Miguel was panting, whining in your mouth as he felt your tits pressing against him.

His thumbs circled your hips as he softly runts his hips up into you “you feel so good” Miguel hummed as your lips latched onto his neck.

Miguel’s eyes were trained on your thighs, he watched them grind onto his sides as he bucked ups hips up. He watched them giggle as he fucked himself into you fully clothed.

Miguel was putty in your hands, he whined and squirmed as you pressed your body against his, hands tangled into his hair as he sat back in ecstasy. “Please” he whispered, your head shot up “yeah?” You cooed.

“Take ‘em off” he quietly spoke as he tugged at your shorts. You chuckled, obeying his wishes and kicked off your shorts. Miguel let out a pathetic whine as he saw you weren’t wearing any panties, your pussy on full view as you straddled back onto him.

“You gonna take these off? Or am I doing all the work?” You mocked as you ran your hands up his thighs. He nodded dumbly as he held you up to his chest with his arm as the other tugged his sweats off.

You were practically salivating at the sight of his cock spring out of his tightly fitted boxers. He was huge in every fucking way. “You won’t be doing the work”’he whispered into your ear as he hugged you onto his chest.

His lips latched onto your neck as he buried himself under your chin, sloppily licking and biting his way up to kiss you. The kiss was messy and sloppy as he pulled you in for a kiss with a fist full of your hair in hand.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of his cock rubbing between your folds, sticky slick coating him as he watched your body reacting to his.

You let out a yelp as he man handled you onto your back, his hands instinctively lifting your plump thighs onto your chest as he watched your pussy glistening in slick. He let out an animalistic moan as his eyes trailed up your thighs and to your face.

Your glossy eyes staring up at him as the flimsy material of your socks hugged the back of your thighs and pussy in full view would make anyone in their right mind lose their mind.

“God you’re so fucking pretty” he hummed as he fisted his cock and his tip dragged it through your folds with a smile on his face.

You were taken back by the way he looked above you, the guy who was under your spell a few minute’s ago now towering over you like he’s about to ruin you was driving you crazy.

“Please” you whined as he continued his teasing. He smiled, one of his thick hands rubbing up your thigh as he nodded “no more teasing” he cooed.

You let out a whine as he pushed himself inside you, his fat tip already bullying it’s way inside. “oh fu- oh my!” You moaned as he seethed, his eyes watching the way you hugged his cock, your needy pussy taking him greedily.

“Fuckkk…. Ah- fu-“ he hummed as he began to thrust his hips, one hand holding your legs onto your chest and the holding himself up for a better position.

You gripped onto his hand as he picked up the pace, his hand wrapping to hold yours as he let your legs fall to his sides and give you a sloppy kiss. The both of you moaned into each other as he slammed into your pussy.

You bounced roughly along with his hard long slams, you sunk into the cushions as his body weight had you caged under him “m- m- ah Miguel” you dumbly spoke.

Miguel chuckled in response, watching you already cock drunk by a few thrusts “I know baby, feels so good huh?” He cooed. You squeeze his hand harder as he hooked your legs around his waist, giving him more leeway to slam into you.

The couch was creaking loudly as he pounded you into oblivion, the noise complaints you’d be getting later this week were the least of your worries as both your moans filled the living room.

“F- feels so good mhm ah- fuck” Miguel panted as he felt you pulsing around him. You scratched at his thick arms that held you in place, your face turning into his bicep that was pressed besides you.

You moaned into him as your orgasm filled all of your senses, you shook uncontrollably under him as he angled his hips up, curving his cock perfectly inside you.

He felt himself dumbly smiling as he watched you squirm and gushing under him. He loved how fucking small you looked right now. Your pretty little face buried in his arm as he fucked your pussy like a madman. “So fucking pretty” he huffed as he felt himself twitch inside you, his moans filling your ears as he fucked his loads inside you.

You moaned at the feeling of everything, you were so overwhelmed by pleasure. His cock buried inside you, his pretty moans filling your ears, and his warm body pressed closely onto yours.

Miguel almost crushed you as he orgasmed but before he could, his arm quickly flipped you over. He sunk into the cushion as he placed you above him. Your head fell onto his chest as he grunted in bliss, cock still buried in you.

You let out a sigh of relief as he pulled out softly, his hands running over your skin as if you were made of glass. He made sure to be gentle as he sat up, his sweaty body pressed onto yours as his hand ran down your hair “you ok?” He cooed.

You nodded with a smile on your face, his hand lifting your face and kissing you softly “so much for chemistry”

#smut #marvel smut #kinktober #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara imagines #miguel ohara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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vivwritesfics · 8 months ago

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Best Dad Ever

Lando is the best girl dad. When his little girl wants to ride horses, he makes it happen

For @nurse-buckley for studying

Lando didn't have many regrets in life. He didn't regret karting from a young age, he didn't regret joining McLaren. He didn't regret getting married young or having a child either.

Actually, those last two were the best decisions of his life.

What he did regret was letting his four year old meet his sisters horses.

Lola fell in love. Lando hoped that she'd find Flo's huge horses terrifying and scary. But she loved them. She really really loved them. She giggled as the horse took the treat from her hand. Auntie flow had shown her exactly how to do it

She didn't get to ride Flo's horses. They were top show jumpers, Flo didn't want to put her niece at risk like that. Something Lando was incredibly grateful for.

But soon, Lando was strapping her into her car seat and driving her home. "Papa," she began as she looked out of the window, at the horses in the passing fields. "Can I start riding ponies?"

Lando should have seen it coming. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Lola had found love for those great big beasts in the same way his sister had. "Let me speak to your mother, yeah Lols?"

"Okay daddy."

Her mother didn't need a lot of convincing. "Hell yes she can go riding!" Y/N insisted. "I always wanted to as a girl but I never could," she said as she cuddled up to her husband.

"But, what if she realises she want to do karting like her father?" He pouted.

She held his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it. "I promise, Lan. The next one we have you can introduce to karting."

Lando really liked the sound of that.

***

For Lolas first riding lesson, Lando was there, watching. He arranged it for a date he wasn't at a race and held his wife's hand as he watched. He was so incredibly nervous. Even if all Lola had to do was sit there, he was still terrified.

Soon she was riding every week. Lando desperately wanted to be at every lesson, but, before he knew it, he was at a race.

He wasn't there for the first time she trotted. "Please video it, baby," he said to his wife as they spoke on the phone.

She did just that, recording as she sat tall, the little pony beneath her trotting. Lando watched the video again and again, showing it to anybody that would watch.

He was there for her first lesson off the lead rope. He couldn't stop the smile on his face as she steered the small grey pony over the set of poles.

Lola kept up her riding lessons for a year. Lando attended as many as he could.

When that year of riding lessons was up,y Lando was on a mission to do something big.

It arrived at his location in the mid morning. As soon as it did, Lando put his phone to his ear. "Baby, bring Lola to the yard," he said.

Without questioning him, she got Lola into her riding boots, strapped her into the car and set off for the stables.

"Where's daddy?" Lola asked as they drove.

"He's gonna meet us there, sweety," Y/N said as she drove.

Lola frowned. "Why?"

"I don't know, Lol's."

As soon as Lola was out of the car, she was running towards her father. "What's going on, Daddy?" She asked.

Taking her hand, Lando walked Lola towards the barn. "I got you something, Lol's, " she said.

Lola gasped when Lando pointed to a stable. In that stable was a black pony, wearing a pink headcollar. "Lola, baby, I'd like you to meet Raven," said Lando. "He's your new pony."

Lola let out a little, quiet scream. "Really, daddy?! He's all mine?"

"He is, baby."

Lola through her arms around her father, squeezing him as tight as she could.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader smut #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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hencheri · 24 days ago

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love, H

18+ mdni.

pairing: stalker!heeseung x fem!reader

warnings: stalking, yandere elements (i hate saying that), heeseung's a freak, noncon/dubcon, knife play, fear play & chase kink ig.

wc: 2.2k

It’s cold. Freezing cold. The night air has you clutching to your arms in an attempt to heat yourself up, but the breeze hitting you in the face, flowing through your hair and into the collar of your coat, makes it impossible to feel any type of warmth.

You should have brought a scarf, you knew you should have right when you stepped foot outside this morning, but you didn’t. And now you’re sure you��re going to freeze to death before reaching your front door.

But at the sight of someone in particular, your heartbeat quickens in seconds, pumping blood so rapidly you feel it pounding against your chest. You don’t feel cold anymore.

A man you can’t name, but who has been following you and watching you for weeks — probably months at this point. You look back at him, halting your steps, his body standing a few feet away from you just outside your workplace like he’s been waiting for you for a while.

You don’t see his eyes, don’t see his face — never did you, and you might not discover it very soon either — a black hoodie draped over his head as it is often the case.

He gets away from the wall he was leaning on when you walk away in the direction of your house. You check a few times behind your shoulder, seeing him following you closely in such a casual manner it reminds you how often you experienced this exact same situation before with the exact same person. Your faceless stalker.

You live a few blocks away, and turning corner after corner, noticing he hasn’t disappeared, you start to really freak out. He usually doesn’t follow you until there, you’ve always supposed he was too scared in case he could get spotted by your neighbours, but this fear doesn’t seem to stop him at this moment.

You fasten the pace of your steps, quicker and quicker until you’re actually running, the only sounds you hear being your boots hitting the pavement and the rapid breaths you take, accompanied, of course, by his own footsteps chasing after you.

Your eyes well up in tears as you tighten your hold around the straps of your shoulder bag, taking a look behind you and being horrified to see his dark silhouette still behind you, determined and eager to catch you. You let out a sob, one that rips up through your throat, heartbeat now pounding in your skull, making your ears ring loudly.

You’re breathless, scared and desperate, a spark of hope lighting in you at the view of your house. You’re almost there, come on. Your stomach hurts as well as the soles of your feet, but you keep going, running because your life depends on it. He’s never expressed the want to kill you, but he’s expressed many other things that made the hair on your arms rise up, and thinking back to it, you don’t want to discover what’s going to happen if he gets his hands on you.

The letters he leaves you… they all ended up in the trash, until one day where he threatened in his letter to enter your house during your sleep if you got rid of this one, too. They’re now stacked up in the last drawer of your vanity, still in their original envelope.

You could recite each one of them and exactly what they’re talking about. The subject always the same, but told in a different way; you. Only you.

You find yourself rereading them sometimes, usually when a new one comes in. He leaves them in your mailbox, but it happens you fall upon one on your nightstand coming back from work, or, the weirdest, in your underwear drawer, exactly in the spot where one of your panties is missing.

He’s not subtle about it, he admits it pretty buntly, in fact. He tells you which pair he took exactly, the last one he described as the ‘cute baby pink panties with a white heart pattern and small bow on the front’ and he also says what he does with it, a part that always leaves you in shock and weirdly turned on.

He tells you when he gets inside your house, what he touches, what he likes, what he keeps. His words are kind and surprisingly caring, but when you do something he doesn’t appreciate, like throwing his letters in the trash for example, his tone changes completely. This double side of him is what scares you the most because you truly never know the extent of what he’s capable of.

He talks about his fantasies, whether they’re explicit or not, you don’t know what to expect when opening his letters. He admits his desire to have you, possess you, his carnal need to make love to you as he so calls it, but anything he describes is the opposite of making love.

You think he doesn’t really know the difference between love and obsession, but you’d be fooled with how skilled he is with words. Everything sounds poetic, when in reality, the meaning of his words are far from beautiful. They’re deranged and don’t make sense either. You can’t pretend to love someone you say you’d chop in little pieces if they throw away your unsolicited love letters.

He always signs with H, that’s pretty much all you know of him, and you don’t even know if his name really begins with the letter H. You don’t know if he’s someone from your daily life or a stranger you’ve never met. You know nothing, but he knows everything, every little detail of your intimacy…

He’s aware of that power he has over you. He could have had you way back before, but he didn’t. He wants you to be familiar with him, wants to make its way into your life without even revealing himself. He wants you to know you’re eventually going to be his and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Like tonight, there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

He has the way to your house, he can get inside whenever he wants. If he decides to catch you tonight, he will, and with the chasing that’s happening right now, you think the time has come. You’ll be his, finally.

But you’ll have to give up on running before he even touches you.

You cross your front yard, clumsily climbing up the stairs to the entrance door. You slip your hand into your pocket and pull out your keys, hurriedly trying to insert it into the lock. You know he’s behind, you hear him, and you think you’ve never been so frightened in your life before.

You turn the key and then the handle, pushing your door open and immediately getting inside. You only realize how close he was to getting you when closing the door, he startles you by rushing into it, seeing his body watching through the transparent glass.

You lock it, shaking in fear, but relieved that you made it in. He hits the glass with his hand out of frustration, visibly upset. His head is down, so you can’t decipher any of his features, but knowing he’s angry is enough to make you scared, recalling the words he uses when he’s annoyed with your behaviour.

‘If you ever escape me, I’ll make sure you never use your legs ever again,’ followed by your name and then ‘love, H’, ending the letter.

You never knew what that meant, but now you think you do.

He stays behind your door for a minute or so, both looking back at each other, without you being able to see his eyes.

He steps away and you watch him leave, wondering where he’s going. Your senses are all enlightened, a million thoughts going through your head at the same time. You walk into your kitchen, grabbing a knife, feeling a tad bit safer now armed.

But there’s still this little voice in the back of your mind telling you the knife is useless, he’ll get you unarmed in a matter of seconds. You can lock yourself up in a room, he’ll still find a way in because he always does.

And unconsciously, you make yourself an easy prey. You like it, you anticipate it. Why did you never call the police? Why haven’t you changed the locks on your doors?

Why in the hell are you turned on to know he touches himself with your stolen panties?

From the corner of your eye, you get the glimpse of a shadow. You instantly turn around, pointing your knife in front of you, but there’s nobody in the kitchen beside you.

You walk out, looking on each side of you, being on your guard. Your face turns pale, noticing the back door half open. You gulp down.

He’s inside. Your stalker, he’ll kill you. He will tonight in your own house.

“Oh, sweetie…”

Your heart skips a beat.

You turn around again, losing all of the strength you had earlier to fight him. You step back until you hit the sliding door behind you, feeling the cold glass through your clothes. You clasp your hand tightly around the handle of the kitchen knife, but you look much more ridiculous than intimidating.

“My poor little girl, all frightened and helpless,” he chuckles, and you find back the light-hearted tone he uses in his letters. It sends shivers down your spine, your pussy throbing.

He walks toward you and you point the knife at him, “don’t get any closer!” you sob out, wanting to sound serious, but your voice breaks pathetically at the end. More tears fall down your cheeks, the previous ones now dried out on your burning skin.

You can see a smirk drawn on beautiful heart-shaped lips, and your mouth opens in shock when he pulls his hoodie off his head.

Your arm holding your knife is trembling, your eyes staring at his face. You’ve spent night after night imagining what he could look like, feeling so powerless thinking that you might never know who he is, but he’s just revealed himself to you now. And it’s nothing you ever expected to see.

He’s beautiful.

“What do you think you’re going to do with that thing?” he asks mockingly, referring to the knife that you no longer hold properly, letting your emotions get the best out of you. He approaches you despite your warning — that was nothing other than laughable. “Stab me, maybe? I know you could never.”

You watch him taking control of you in no time with tearful eyes. He takes the knife out of your grip, and the way he easily uses it against you is humiliating.

He swiftly puts the tip of the blade under your chin, forcing your head up. “I admire your tenacity, my love. I really do,” he tells you, and his voice is soft, almost too gentle. “But I thought I was clear on that; you’re mine. You can’t run away from me.”

You try to hold back your cries, keeping your mouth closed and looking away from his face, but the tears still roll down your cheeks, drawing a wet trail from your eyes to your jaw.

“Look at me,” he suddenly growls, pressing the blade harder under your chin, but not enough to cut you. You reluctantly do what he said, your eyes meeting his. “There you go,” he coos, “I know you dreamt of this exact moment. You’re a little freak who likes the attention of deranged guys like me. You’re no secret to me, baby.”

Your bottom lip trembles, no words coming out of you. What possibly can you say? You’re not stupid enough to think you can change his mind.

And maybe a part of you really waited for this moment to happen. For him to catch you.

You gasp when he tears through the front of your shirt with the knife, tilting your head downward to see your chest exposed, goosebumps all over your skin.

“So pretty. I always wanted to see them from up close,” he moans, dragging the knife between your naked breasts, going over your heaving stomach down to the band of your leggings. He lowers them with his other hand, pushing them all the way down to your ankles.

He tears through your panties as well, leaving you with nothing covering your private parts and you can’t feel more embarrassed.

The blade of the knife stays just under your belly button as his eyes stare at your uncovered pussy, wetting his lips with his tongue. He’s in love, to say the least.

“Fuck that shit.” He throws the knife away on the floor and with both hands free, he unzips his pants and takes his hard cock out.

He aligns his leaking tip with your entrance, feeling how wet you already are.

“N-No, don’t, please!” You cry out, holding his shoulders, but doing no attempt in pushing him away.

Just as he pushes himself into you, he glances up at your face, looking totally blissed out. His mouth hungs open, staring back into your eyes as he thrusts up all in the way in, making you moan out in pain.

“Stop lying to yourself, baby,” he groans, “we both know you love it.”

#i finally did it #praise the gods #tw noncon #tw stalking #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #enha x reader

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leiswxrld · 9 months ago

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𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 (𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 ❥)

pairings: ellie!williams x fem!reader

sypnosis: it’s Valentine’s Day, a special day to spend with your loved ones right but what if a slasher is going around killing only once a year on this special day.

warnings: mdni 18+, smut, college slasher, anal fingering (r receiving), strap usage (r receiving), top ellie and bottom reader, face riding (r receiving), reader giving ellie a lap dance, weed and drugs, praises + degradation (mama, slut, baby, whore), ellie calls her strap her dick, strawberry vape supremacy, graphic content, college au

a/n: happy valentines my lovelies, I know this is a day late but I had to touch up a few things before I could post this and I’ve also been so busy yesterday so it had to wait till I got home, not proof read so there might be a few mistakes, low-key inspired by scream.

credits: @magicalboything @cafekitsune for line dividers ❥

'Good evening folks, this is Heather Gale reporting live from channel 5 with tonight’s news, it's that time of year where couples, friends and family around the world express their love and affection towards their loved ones but one striking question has our community in constant fear and paranoia, will the valentines day killer strike again ?'

'Today marks the death of late cheerleader captain Melissa brown who was found brutally stabbed over 20 times in the chest and stomach in her college dorm room a red rose left on her chest, police say she was returning from a party when she was viciously attacked by the killer, friends and family say she was a bright student, kind friend and positive role model for those who admired her, the community are desperately fighting to get Melissas killer found and behind bars.'

'Police ask that if you have any leads or tips that could potentially catch the Valentines Killer, they urge you to either report it to the police station or to anonymously send in your information, this is Heather Gale on channel 5 and I hope you all stay safe and well this Valentines.'

- -

"Really a valentines party" you reply in disbelief at the instagram post one of the boys from the football team had posted, you couldn't believe they were throwing a party when you were all advised not to throw any especially when the valentines killer could strike again.

"Yeah sick right I was thinking of going" your friend amarie says, scrolling onto the post and liking the picture. you throw her a dirty look, "amarie you know the college advised us not to attend any parties especially after what happened to heather she was killed straight after the party we went to last year" it felt so surreal when you found out she had been stabbed to death just after returning from the college party you attended that year, you remember being in your room when it came up on the news that starville's captain cheerleader was found dead.

"cmon y/n don't be such a whore, we'll all be together and we live in the same dorm room besides I'm pretty sure the killer only kills cheerleaders" she replies and you roll your eyes, "it's not just cheerleaders amarie it's anyone who goes to this fucking college, we're all at risk and were at a higher risk if we attend that stupid party"

amarie turns off her phone paying all her attention towards you, "think about it when was the last time you actually went to a party and got laid no offence but bitch I feel depressed just looking at you"

you cross your arms, "and what the fuck is that supposed to mean"

"it means I feel like I'm living with a christian.. your sex life is drier than a fucking desert" she remarks and you scoff, really.

"difference christians wait till marriage... reminder I have already lost my virginity" you remind her, the last time you really had sex was with a boy you hooked u with a few weeks back but you really didn't get the time to find someone and the only thing keeping you satisfied was your vibrator which was in dire need of some batteries.

"more of a reason for you to come to this party and get laid come on think about it, so many of the girls in our dorm are going we can't miss out on this opportunity besides I hear charlies going to be there" she replies, smiling to herself. Charlie was the star quarterback on the football team and one of the many boys she was frequently hooking up when she got the chance too.

"and that has something to do with me how" you reply and she shrugs her shoulders, "it means that there might be a chance you might meet someone you actually like" she replies, you ponder for a second..it could be a chance to finally hook up with someone.

"fine but I’m only going because I’m getting sick of using my vibrator plus there will be free drinks" you finally decide and she throws you a hella side eye, "girl tmi…” she says and you laugh, “now I need to go freshen up" she says, doing a little victory dance while looking at herself through her phone camera.

it was a good thing that the boys house was a 15 minute drive from your college building which meant you only spent around 5 dollars each for an Uber to get there. the house was the hotspot for most of the college parties that were thrown, a big estate with a pool and 3 floors meaning you could fit over a hundred people inside, "this thong is digging into my ass it feels like I've got carpet burn" amarie says, picking at the bright pink thong underneath her pink skirt.

You both choose to go all out, you in a red boob top and black skirt whilst amarie was wearing a pink corset top with a pink skirt. "I told you to choose the black one at the shop" you remark and she smacks her lips, "it wasn't going to match the cute pink corset top and skirt I've got so I guess I'm just going to have to suck it up" she replies, applying a thin layer of lip gloss on.

You both walk into the house, people stood near the entrance either drinking or getting smoking. you could see the inside of the house bathed in colourful lights, music blaring out into the cold midnight air.

Your strawberry flavoured vape clutched in your right hand as the stress began to creep in, your couldn't imagine that the valentine's killer could possibly strike again this year but the idea of it scared you shitless. You bring the vape to your lips inhaling the vapour as you taste the strawberry fumes enter your lungs, "I didn't expect for the party to be this fucking packed" you admit as amarie nods her head, "yeah seems like the whole campus" she pauses, "and a few other people from nearby attended"

you make it inside, pushing past your way through the sea of people making your way towards the kitchen, "You guys actually made it" Stacy another one of your friends says, going to hug you, "I mean I was expecting amarie but y/n that's a first" you give her a face that screams 'girl really' and she laughs, "no hard feelings babe but I never see your ass outside of your room except if you have class"

"none taken" you reply, manoeuvring around her so you could pour yourself a drink. you decide to do a classic vodka cranberry, basic but could easily get you drunk. "y/n pour some vodka in my cup" amarie says, holding the red solo cup towards you. you grab the bottle, pouring it until it hit the middle line, "girl quit playing pour me some more"

"You want to drink straight vodka"

"I'm trying to get shitfaced not drunk" she replies as if she was pointing out the obvious, you pour some more until it was nearly full. You down the vodka cranberry, putting down the bottle of vodka as you make your way onto the dance floor. the music blared through the speakers as you and your friends danced in the living room, grinding against amarie as she used her free hand to smack your ass.

You felt the unwanted and lustful eyes from every boy in room, ignoring them as you continued to grind against her taking a swig of your drink. Your eyes wandered for a second until they landed on a girl just poarched up against the banister of the stairs, talking to boy you recognised to be Charlie.

You'd fancied girls in the past but never took it further than just straight crushing but she was different, you don't think you'd ever seen her before on campus otherwise you wouldn't forget such a beautiful face. The mysterious brunette was dressed in a white wife beater, blue baggy jeans with a pair of retro red jordan's, the girl takes her eyes off of Charlie to look at you for a second, licking her lips before looking you up and down, not missing the long stare on your half exposed ass.

She had a blunt in her hand, taking a few drags from it before taking her attention off of you. You stop grinding and turn around to face amarie who's looking at your confused, "bitch why did you stop"

"who's that girl over there" you say discreetly pointing in direction of the staircase, "what girl" she replies, squinting her eyes to get a better look.

"that one with the tattoos going all up her arms" she looks once again before grinning, "ohhh that girl"

"that's ellie I only know her cause she normally sells weed to Charlie when we’re together I forgot how fucking fine she was" she adds taking a swig of her vodka, "shit I need another drink I'll be back"

amarie makes her way to the kitchen leaving you with a few of your other friends who were busy dancing on each other, thinking about it now you needed another drink.

You noticed that Ellie had moved to the couch some girl chatting her up as she seemed to not be listening, blunt in hand. she notices you right away, eyes lowered a fraction and manspreading with one leg propped up on the couch. a surge of confidence ran through you as you decide to go sit yourself next to her, she licks her lips turning to face you.

"why'd you stop dancing" she starts, offering the blunt to you as you happily accept it. you laugh, "what did you like my dancing" you reply, taking a drag before handing it back to her.

"I mean I liked what I was seeing" she admits boldly, making you shuffle nervously under her intimidating gaze, "if you'd like I could give you a lap dance" you offer and she raises a brow.

"you want to give someone you just met a lap dance huh" yes and no but this was the alcohol talking.

"yeah if you want I know a few things" you state and she thinks about it for a sec before standing up, "ok follow me doll" you blush at the nickname, taking ellies hand as she leads you upstairs, you look at amarie who's still in the kitchen pressed against the counter as she made out with Charlie, her hands wrapped around his neck as his were around her waist, typical amarie.

you passed so many people, a group of people doing drugs on the floor and the others doing dares on eachother on the other side of the room. her grip on your hand tightened, trying to avoid stepping on the people sat on the stairs to prevent yourself falling. there were many occupied rooms passing through all of them till you found a vacant one, ellie allowing you to go in first closing the door behind you.

the rooms quite big, a double bed with a lamp on each side with little side tables and a vanity behind you with picture frames on top, "you nervous" she asks almost taunting, sitting on the edge of the bed. the new found confidence from earlier was replaced with anxiety as it began to seep in, you've only jokingly given your friend a lap dance but that was only because you were dared to do it but that was out of the question now since you were sobering up and doing it for real.

"yeah" you admit and she chuckles, "don't worry I won't judge beside who's going to complain when they've got a pretty girl grinding on their lap" she grins and you roll your eyes with a smile as you remove your shoes.

the tension in the room was thick, Ellie's hands pressed against the sheets, the overbearing loud music coming from downstairs giving you a headache and the sounds of moans emitting from the other side of the walls, "remember no touching me this is just a dance" you emphasise, going to straddle her lap.

"I got you" she says, keeping her hands to her sides. you start by whining your hips against her lap, hands slowly brushing over her thighs feeling her tense up beneath you. you twisted around, moving to rhythm of the music each movement against her lap making you feel the unsuspected bulge tucked underneath her jeans.

she knows you felt it, fighting the urge to just scrap the lap dance and touch you, the friction against her strap rubbing up against her aching clit, pussy wet just watching you. she instinctively swallowed as your grinding increased, practically fucking her with clothes on, your red laced panties soaked in your own arousal, biting back the urge to moan.

Ellie mumbles in cohesively, her voice low and hoarse as you lift up off of her, seductively moving your hips towards the floor whilst your skirt rode up your ass, exposing the red lace that sat perfectly around your waist. you turn back around, the dim light in the room showing Ellie's eyes that had now darken in colour, her fists locked up tight that they turned red.

You kiss your way up her clothed body, seating yourself back onto her lap as you continued till you reached her neck, leaving love bites all over until you reached her cherry red lips, hovering over them before teasingly backing away, "I know you feel it.... pull it out" her voice low, looking up at you.

"feel what" you innocently tease, gasping when she grips onto your hips, "h-hey I said no touching"

"don't act smart with me...pull.it.out" she tells you and you give her a hesitant look, "what you never seen a dick before"

"no dumbass I have but I've just never done it with a girl" you shamefully admit and she just laughs, "I guess I'll be your first" her hands wrap around your back so that your laying on top of her and gently wraps her hand around the back of your neck, pulling you into a kiss.

her lips were addicting, not like the many boys you've hooked up with who just kissed for the sake of it but she took her time with you, it's almost like having sex but with her mouth allowing her to slip her tongue into your mouth as you moan, your hand going under her top rubbing up and down her stomach.

she pulls away, helping you remove her belt, quickly pulling her jeans down showing the very prominent bulge through her black calvin klein boxers "before you sit on it, I want you to fuck my face with your pussy" your face heats up at her words, embarrassment flooding through your body leaving your clit throbbing.

"you want me sit on your face" you ask almost astonished, "yes is that a problem?" she questions, "well no-

"then sit this pussy on my fucking face" she interrupts and you quickly follow, removing your black skirt and red lace before throwing them into a random corner of the room. you slowly, hover your cunt over her face scared that you might accidentally suffocate her.

she slaps your ass, "lower yourself down more" she growls, gripping your legs and pulling you onto her mouth. you slowly rock your hips against her mouth, ellie pressing her tongue against your clit, flicking her tongue up and down your vulva making your legs tremble, a whimper leaving your glossed lips.

Ellie’s sucking and biting, her nails digging into the fat of your thighs, your juices mixing in with her saliva that dripped down her chin. Your legs shake and ellie gets more faster, your head fuzzy with the overwhelming pleasure you were receiving, you felt like screaming covering your mouth with your hand, muffling your moans.

You never imagined you'd be getting head by girl at a college party whilst there were hundreds of people downstairs, the thought of it made you even wetter and you were fucking thankful you decided to come.

you finally come with a silent scream, gripping onto the headboard as she continued to go down on you until she was done, adding onto the best fucking head that you had gotten in ages. she taps your thigh, allowing you to raise up off of her face, your face heating up at ellie's wet face.

"you taste so good mama" she says, licking her lips and sitting up on the bed. she cracks her neck, giving you a kiss allowing you to taste yourself. "but I'm not done with you" she says, slapping your inner thigh.

"I want you to get on your knees and suck this dick baby" she moves her self to the edge of the bed, giving you room to get on your knees. you follow, getting in between her legs, she opens your mouth with her fingers and slips them inside until they were coated in your saliva before using them as lubricant to stroke herself, tapping the tip against your wet lips.

"say ahh..." you slightly open your mouth allowing her to slip her dick into your mouth, it's been a while since you've last given head, slowly bobbing your head up and down her length, she's just watching you using her fingers to tilt your head up so that you could make eye contact with her, her hands grip onto the back of your messy hair, helping you to go down on her faster your eyes filling up with tears, trying to open up your throat more so that you wouldn't gag.

"fuck..." she whispers, fumbling with something on the bed before pulling out her phone. your pace doesn't falter, watching as she presses the record button, the flash brightening up the dim room. you moan, trying so hard not to choke as you sloppily bob your head up and down faster, eye contact not ceasing.

you felt ashamed yet turned on at the same time at being recorded, ellie stroking your hair back to prevent it from falling into your face. your surprised you had been going on for this long, feeling the evident tiredness in your jaw, drool seeping from your mouth and lubricating her dick. she stops you, slowly pushing you off her, allowing you to catch your breath.

"I love watching you suck my dick baby but I wanna see how well you can take it" she admits, camera still recording. "get on all fours mama" she says standing up as you get up from your knees. she waits for you to get on all fours, arching your back as she climbs onto the bed behind you phone in hand, positioning herself.

she spreads your ass, spitting onto your gaping hole allowing it to drip down over as she uses her thumb to rub it in before prodding her tip against your glistening cunt, slowing pushing herself into you. you gasp, your mouth widening into an 'o', the feeling of her dick stretching you out, but before she could even move there's a sudden knock on the door.

"Room is occupied" Ellie yells, awaiting for the person behind the door to move along but the person on the other side doesn't go, knocking once again, "I said the room is occupied asshole go and fuck some place else" the person on the other side get's the message, walking away from the door.

"some fucking people" ellie whispers to you which makes you giggle. she starts to rock her hips into you, putting the palm of her hand against your back helping you to fuck back onto her. she fucked into you so lovingly but so fucking rough, hitting your g-spot that had you gasping and cursing, biting on your lip and your hand going to grip onto the sheets, "shit"

Ellie doesn't stop recording, one hand gripping onto your hips whilst thrusting into you, cursing at the way your ass moved against her hips. you turn around to look at her, her hair falling into her face as ellie looked back at you. she looked so fucking sexy in just her wife beater, showcasing all the different tattoos she had to offer... you don't think you've ever been this fucking whipped for someone with the way she had you acting.

"you should see how fucking perfect you look on camera...should turn your slutty ass into a fucking pornstar shit" you moan in response to her words, fucking yourself back onto her. your pants get louder, the squelching noises from your gushing cunt getting louder every time ellie pulled back, she slaps your ass watching how it jiggled under the camera light. "fuck.....elsss"

your cheeks were flushed and your forehead was lined with sweat, feeling ellie get deeper every time she pulled you back onto her, receiving cute and desperate moans from your lips as your tits bounce with every rough drag of her hips.

You practically trying to pull away, begging ellie to let you come as she pounded you into the bed, her thumb pressing against your labia, rubbing against it.

You gasp again, feeling her finger slowly slip into your exposed hole the uncomfortable feeling making you clench around her fingers, she curls her fingers almost doing a ‘come here’ motion, whispering for you to relax so that it wouldn’t feel as painful, she gradually builds her speed making you feel lightheaded, this new fucking feeling making you dizzy.

"so fucking tight" she fists her fingers into you, the rings around your walls clenching around her skinny fingers whilst pounding into you as your eyes rolled shut.

You start to spasm around her strap before you know it your creaming around her dick, your climax riding out as she continued to milk you, her pace never faltering, “f-fuck stop els it’s too much”

“be a good little whore and cum for me again” that alone sends you over the edge and your cumming again, not believing you could even come more than twice as she lazily gives you a few more thrusts before pulling out her dick coated in your sweet juices, leaving you sprawled out on the bed, allowing you to catch your breath.

you could hear your heart beating out of your ears, laying there slumped on the bed before ellie stopped the recording. you remain motionless, trying to catch your breath as ellie helped you up from the bed. You both messily get dressed in silence, your back turned as you applied your strawberry lipgloss that had smeared off before a notification on ellie's phone catches her attention, "I-uh gotta go- something I've got to take care off, I guess I’ll see you around y/n" she says, quickly buckling up her belt and stepping into her shoes.

she gives you one last kiss on the lips, savouring the sweet taste from your scented lipgloss before disappearing into the hallway. you look for the red lace underwear that you had thrown into the corner of the room earlier but it was nowhere to be found, you curse yourself deciding to wrap a jumper you found in the closet around your waist to prevent flashing anyone, before swiftly leaving the room.

you make your way downstairs, people screaming and left in a state of disarray , how did you not hear this before……did you miss something ?

a frantic amarie rushes to you, "where were you we were looking for you" she yells, bringing you into a death-crushing hug leaving you confused. "I-i was in the bathroom why what happened" you inquire, pulling away.

"the killer striked again, charlies dead"

#ellie williams x female reader #valentines day #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie the last of us #lesbian smut #lesbian #tlou2 #ellie x reader #horror au #ellie tlou #ellie williams #black reader #smut #leiswxrld #leiscoven

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sturnsslut · 6 months ago

Text

better - matt sturniolo

a/n - this is a filler until i’m done with my chris smut 😔. i’m sorry there’s a lot of yapping but the backstory matters !

contains - soft dom!matt x sub!reader, fighting (barley), unprotected sex, mirror sex, praise, fingering, begging, oral

summary - reader and matt make a bet !

————————————————————————————

‘ i seen your love, you got me baby ‘

it was a friday night and my boyfriend had just canceled on me last minute for the 3rd time this week. i was literally all dressed up, waiting for him to come and pick me up. i sighed when i read his message saying that he " had something come up "

bullshit.

i had a feeling he had been cheating on me for a while, but i didn't have any solid proof so i just stayed quiet. i was about to get into my pajamas when i got a text from nick saying how theyre having a party at their house tonight , and how matt would pick me up.

nick 💗

HEY

we're having a party tn

can you come

pleaseeeeee

matt can pick you up

i feel like i haven't seen you in forever

you

nick it's been 4 days 😭

but i mean

let me see

i pulled out my phone to text liam, my boyfriend . i had to make sure that we really weren't going out , so i was just double checking.

liam

Can't go

Something came up

you

bro what ??

im literally ready

why tf is this just now being brought up

liam

I don't know what you want me to do lmfao

you

im going to nicks party then

liam

Says who?

Your staying at the house

you

why are you being weird 💀

yes i am

lmfao ok dad

liam

That fucking matt kid

Your always looking at him

And he looks at you like he's

in love or some shit so no your not going

you

bro

u can't be serious

i never look at him

liam

K well

i don't want you close enough to him

so that there's even a chance something could happen

you

read 10:39 pm

i laughed and rolled my eyes, he really thinks he's in control of me...i scrolled back to nicks contact and texted him

you

come get me 😝

nick

YAYYYY

we're like 5 mins away

can we come in so i can say hi to ur cat

you

omfg 😭 yea

im ready anyways cause

ofc my bf cancelled on me again

nick

girl.

you can do better

i feel like everyone knows

he's cheating on you...

you

yea me to

i just don't have any proof yet

anyways lmk when ur here

nick

okay

we're like abt to pull up

you

doors unlocked 😛

i waited until i saw their van in my driveway, and opened the door watching them walk up to my porch

immediately hugged nick and chris, but i just smiled at matt and he returned the gesture.

there had always been something, weird between me and matt. it wasn't friendship, but it wasn't hate either. it was weird.

i led nick to my room and picked up my cat, kiko, handing her to him

i walked out of my room to see chris sitting on the couch and matt just leaning against the door on his phone, like he couldn't wait to leave.

“uh you know you can sit down matt...” i said awkwardly, causing him to look up from his phone and just respond with “i know”

i shrugged it off and went back to my room where i'd left nick, and asked him what he thought of my outfit.

i asked him if he thought it was ' too formal ' for a party since it was originally an outfit for my date.

i was wearing a short black dress with spaghetti straps, my hair down and some light makeup

“girl you look hot. don't change” i smiled and went to the bathroom to touch up my makeup a little, once i was done i grabbed my bag and asked nick if we're ready to go “you ready?” i questioned, putting my bag on my arm

“yeah let's go” he said before saying bye to kiko and putting her down

“come on guys” nick said walking out of my room, resulting in everyone making their way to the door.

once we got into the van i was in the back , with nick while chris and matt were up front obviously. on the way there, i just had the urge to look up from my phone

i looked up and caught matt starring at me through the rearview mirror, he immediately looked away once he saw me though.

we eventually got to the triplets house and it was already packed. we all got out of the van and while we were making our way to the door, i asked nick “you let all these people here without you guys home?”

“yeah, justin and nate are here so it should be fine.”

i hummed in response and walked behind nick and chris, with matt behind me for some reason.

nate opened the door and dapped up matt after i walked in, and i heard him say “hot date bro”

“she's not my date” matt replied sounding slightly annoyed. nate raised a brow in confusion

“then…why..were you walking behind her? and starring at her ass, like, the entire time you were walking up…me and justin literally saw you through the window.”

i turned my head around for a quick second to see matt shushing nate and punching him (sort of) playfully on the shoulder

i felt my cheeks heat up, but why? why did i care how matt was looking at me? whatever.

i made my way to the kitchen where nick and chris were, we just gossiped about random shit.

nick was talking to chris and while i waited for my turn to speak, i looked around and saw...my boyfriend? what? he said he had an emergency?

and of course, he was making out with some skanky bitch from my school who knew we'd been dating.

i told nick i'll be right back and made my way over.

“fuck you. family emergency?? your fucking unbelievable.” i shoved him then faced the girl “and bitch as for you, he's gonna do the same shit hes doing to me right now. you aren't gonna fucking last.”

he looked totally wasted and was slurring his words, but i heard him say “you were just a good fuck. get over it.”

i looked at him in disbelief for a moment before i said something back “can't say the same for you. you have a small dick.” and with that, i walked off.

tons of people were starring at me of course, but i was too mad to even care. i made my way to the bathroom to calm down, before i heard a knock on the door.

“what the fuck do you want” i blurted out without even thinking who it could be.

“um..it's matt, can i come in?” i instantly covered my mouth feeling bad about how i had spoken to him

i unlocked the door and opened it, letting him in. “i'm sorry. i didn't know who it was” i apologized

“no no, it's okay. i just wanted to check on you and see if your okay.”

i sighed and sat down on the toilet seat while he leaned against the wall in front of the mirror

“i mean..not really, just pissed at how much time and energy i wasted on him.”

he stayed silent and didn't say anything, waiting for me to finish what i was saying “i knew he was cheating but i didn't wanna believe it, i feel fucking stupid” i continued

“your not stupid” he shrugged and continued “he's stupid for loosing someone like you.” i thanked him and sighed, resting my head in my hands

“and…if he has a small dick he's nothing to cry over” he smiled

i laughed, “he wasn't even good in bed either oh my god.” i added and laughed

"really?” matt turned his head to look at me, furrowing his brows for a second and smiling, while crossing his arms

“yeah. sorry if this is too much but like..i never finished when i was with him” i giggled at the embarrassing confession

he laughed and paused for a moment before saying “you would if you were with me”

i giggled thinking he was joking, and replied with “doubt it”

matt raised his eyebrows and locked the door, “wanna bet?”

that's when i realized he wasn't joking, i stood up and leaned against the sink infront of him " how much " i smirked at him

“ $50. i know how to use my hands, mouth, and dick. im confident i could make you cum, that's a promise.”

“fine, prove it then” i said nodding my head

“don't start shit you can't finish. im serious.” he said looking me in my eyes

“so am i, i wanna see if you can put your money where your mouth is”

“ y/n ,” he said smiling and shaking his head , leaning into me, resting one of his hands on the sink

“matt.” i responded teasingly

he grabbed my hand and placed it onto his dick, making me feel his giant boner

“you see what your doing to me? i will fuck you until you can't even remember his name.”

“do it then” i smirked, ' he's all talk ' is what i was thinking, until he firmly placed his lips on mine

it was quick to turn sloppy, he picked me up and set me on the edge of the sink so i was perfectly aligned with his dick

he started making his way down slowly by leaving hickeys all down my neck, i wrapped my fingers in his hair and tugged it slightly, but not too hard

that's when he lifted up my dress and placed one of his hands on my waist, while the other rubbed my clit through my underwear

he was looking me in my face but i was so needy for more of him, that i couldn't even look him in the eyes.

“what? you can't take it anymore?” he smirked at me, still making eye contact and then inching his hand fully down my panties sticking two fingers inside me

(guys i giggled at panties but i didn't know what other word to use)

i bit my lip slightly taking a deep breath in at the amount of pleasure i was in. even tho all he did was tease me, it felt amazing. like he had this power over me.

he started moving his fingers slow, but picked up the pace fast. i threw my head back in pleasure, while my hands grabbed at his shoulders.

fuck. maybe he could make me cum after all .

as good as it felt, i needed a break because if he fingered me for any longer, i would've lost $50.

i grabbed his hand and pulled it away and hopped off of the counter, immediately getting on my knees

i began to unzip his pants when he suddenly stops me and grabs my chin, raising my head and making me look at him

“i don't know if your ready..” he said looking at me with a smirk

i rolled my eyes smiling slightly, and continued undoing his pants "okay..." he answered, throwing his hands up in surrender

i pulled his pants down to his ankles and then looked up to see his boxers, and i could obviously see his giant print

i pulled down his boxers , revealing an easy 9 inches. i started at it for a few seconds before shrugging and shoving in 6 inches or so

as i switched between my hands and my mouth, i swirled my tongue around his tip causing him to let out a low groan

“shit ..” he threw his head back in pleasure and grabbed a fistful of my hair, pushing himself further into my mouth

i felt it in the back of my throat. i heard him mumbling all types of swear words, and at that point he's basically just fucking my throat

“how was that” say standing up to face him, smirking up at him still catching my breath

“your really good” he smirked at me, before picking me up and setting me back on the sink again “your turn”

he pulls out of the kiss and bends down slightly, resting his hands on my inner thighs, spreading my legs a little

“let me do this for you, all you need to do is hold your legs up. but if you can't handle it, just put em on my shoulders, okay?” he says looking me in my eyes, all i could do at that point was just nod eagerly, hopefully showing how bad i needed him.

and with that, he starts to go down on me. i arched my back unintentionally, i don't know what came over me, but i couldn't help myself. it just felt like he belonged there

this man wasn't lying when said he knows how to make a girl beg, not even close to a lie.

i grabbed a handful of his hair and arched my back again when i felt him start to suck on my clit

i slapped my hand over my mouth, remembering how there's other people around.

he took his hand off of my thigh and removed my own hand from my mouth, “don't cover your mouth sweetheart. i wanna know if im doing good”

i shook my head in agreement and grabbed the back of his shirt, needing some sort of support

i can't explain it, but i swear i felt him smirk when i grabbed him, like he knew he was pleasing me so good.

i never knew i needed him, but i do now. his tongue felt so good on me, it just felt right.

i moaned slightly louder than before “shit…” i threw my head back and bit my lip slightly

i started whimpering out of pleasure trying to catch my breath, his tongue was going everywhere and somehow he made every spot feel amazing .

i felt myself get close, but i needed to feel him inside of me. “wait wait wait” i mumbled trying to catch my breath

“what is it baby?” he said looking up at me “ i…fuck hold on.” said panting

“ i want you to fuck me , please matt.” i said in between breaths

“how bad?” he said smirking at me and looking me in my eyes, “tell me how bad you want me.”

“i need you so bad, please” i pleaded, i just wanted him in me and nothing else, him and him only is all i needed.

“good girl.” and with that, he fully stood up and grabbed his dick

he held his tip up to my entrance, running his head up and down my folds causing whimpers to leave both of our mouths. he knowing how bad he was teasing me, but this man was rock hard.

“matt, i want you to fuck me and i know you do to , stop teasing please” i was literally begging this man to just destroy me

he shrugged “i'll try not to stretch you out too much sweetheart.” and with that, he pushed himself inside me without warning, and wow i wasn't ready.

it's like i was so horny i forgot how big he was.

he shoved all of his length inside me , all 9 inches. i cried out in pleasure

he placed his hands on my waist so he could go deeper and guide me , “oh fuck” i muttered and immediately clamped my eyes shut

that's when i felt matt's hand on my chin, making me look at him. “look at me, i wanna see how good i make you feel . do i make you feel good, pretty?”

“mhm” i whimpered and shook my head because i couldn't even speak.

“use your words baby. do i?” he spoke firmly, still not breaking eye contact

“yes, yes you make me feel good” i mumbled

“good.” he spoke in a fierce tone as his tip hit my g-spot perfectly each time, making me throw my head back

i heard him say “hey baby, you wanna take off that dress?” he suggested

i nodded while he pulled out and i hopped off of the sink, slipping my dress off

i looked over at matt who was literally starring down my body, “what?” giggled getting flustered

“nothing…you just amaze me. your body is so perfect” he said, still starring me down

i laughed and rolled my eyes and asked if he was ready again, “for you, always. are you?” he emphasized

i bent over the sink and replied “obviously.” he snickered and grabbed my hips, making sure he was perfectly aligned.

i felt him pound himself into me, which, i again for some reason still wasn't used to how big he is.

i had my hands on the sink for support, and when he put himself inside me, i put my head down because it felt so good

that's when i felt matt's hand on my chin again and lifted up my head , looking at me through the mirror.

“uh uh. i want you to see how good your taking me.”

i nodded looking at him in the mirror

i watch him look down and smile while furrowing his brows

“you didn't tell me you had a back tattoo baby . it looks good”

“you never ..” i paused as i struggled to get my words out “shit!...asked me” i whined, almost too loudly

“fair enough ..oh fuck” he threw his head back and his thrusting started to get more aggressive

his hand crept up to my neck, placing a firm grip on my neck which sent me over the edge

“matt..baby i can't do it” i said shaking my head while looking at him in the mirror

“yes you can, take it like you said you would.” i nodded and did as he told me

i suddenly felt that knot in my stomach, so i reached behind me and grabbed matts hand from my waist and put it on the sink so that his hand was over mine, and we interlocked our fingers

“you alright? are you gonna cum already? come on, your too easy to please baby .” he asked in a teasing tone, looking at me and smirking

like of course i was. and he obviously knew, he just thought that it was funny to tease me.

“fuck ..matt im gonna-“ i was cut off by me releasing onto his dick, “oh shit” said looking down, i was relieved that a man had actually made me finish, but now i needed to give matt $50 i didn't have ...

“good job baby, you did great” he was literally panting at this point. i could tell was close, just trying not to show it.

i decided to tease a little and see how long he could last.

“you make me feel so good baby” i said looking at him in the mirror

“thats g..fuck” he threw his head back and starting thrusting harder

“you look so good from here” i teased a little more since he thinks when he does it, it's hilarious. i saw him open this mouth to say something but instead just bite the side of his cheek and stay quiet

“i don't care how long it takes you baby, my body is all yours.”

“fuck .. mm oh shit ...in or out”

without answering, i got on my knees and began to jerk him off to his release while looking up at him

“oh shit. fuck..fuck” he lets out a huge loud of cum and i swallow, i dont need a mess.

i get back up and try my best to fix my hair while looking at myself in the mirror, while matt's leaning against the wall panting

i pickup my shoes without even bothering to put them back on , i just re-adjust my dress and forget about everything else.

my hair is all out of place, my lipstick is smeared, my mascara running down my face..i was a mess. but it was totally worth it.

i sit on the toilet seat while matt puts his pants back on.

“i don't need the $50.” matt said suddenly smiling at me, “you ready? you still look good by the way.”

“whatever. let's go” i laughed and rolled my eyes, opening the door

“liam's gonna be so pissed.” i laughed looking back at matt

“i know” he smiled “can't wait to see the look on his face.”

i giggled as we made our way over to liam, who was making out with a different girl.

we stood infront of him and looked at eachother laughing, and as soon as we did we opened his eyes and looked like he'd just seen a ghost

“hi” i said in a teasing voice, tilting my head while doing so

“what the fuck?” he looked back at me and matt in confusion, furrowing his brows like he didn't know what was going on.

“yea so you were kinda right about me and matt ...” i said trying not to burst out laughing

“you fucking whore!” he yelled, gaining the attention of tons of people. they started recording the situation because of how loud he was. “i knew you were cheating on me you slimy little b-“ he got cut off as he got sent to the floor.

matt had punched him.

i covered my mouth in shock but also resisting the urge to not laugh “your...” liam paused , feeling his nose as it gushed blood everywhere “dead.” he continued

“okay, well it's kinda hard to take that threat serious when your on ground”

everybody around us started laughing, apparently nobody liked liam , but it's obvious why.

“your not a real man! y-“ i cut him off before he could finish his sentence, “well he fucks like one. get up and get over it. truth hurts.”

i pat his shoulder and flashed him a faux sympathy smile, before he swatted my hand away causing me to laugh

we walked over to chris and nick who were recording everything on their phones “hey uh, are you guys ready to pack this up?” matt asked them

“yup, i'll get nate and justin to get everyone out.” nick said as he walked away

“dude what the fuck ...” chris giggled as he looked at me and matt " i fucking knew it! nick owes me $20".

“you..made a bet?” i asked, confused

“fuck yea we did” he replied stuffing his mouth with food before walking off

“so like..do you wanna be my girlfriend...or whatever” matt asked me, looking down at the ground

“duh.” smiled and kissed him before going to find nick so i could help clean the mess up

“we're literally never having a party again.” nick complained as we all shoved trash into trash bags

a/n - um lmk if you wanna be on my tag list 🤗.

@mattssluttygf

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolos #nick sturniolo #smut #Spotify

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sunkissedpages · 5 months ago

Text

match his freak

pairing: art donaldson x f reader

a/n: (reader is basically tashi but i wanted people to be able to insert themselves so it can be read either way)

summary: your husband's attempt at getting you to stay in bed with him

warnings: alcohol mentions, patrick mentions, martial issues lol, smut (18+ ; mdni)

smut warnings: he's a biter, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 2.2k

“Your alarm has been going off for seven minutes.”

“Why haven’t you turned it off?”

“Because it’s supposed to get you up, not me. Come on, we have to get going.”

Art groans and rolls away from you. “Can’t we cancel this morning?”

You sigh. “You say that every morning.”

“I mean it this time,” he whines, catching you by the wrist before you can get out of bed. “The sun isn’t even up yet. Let’s sleep in. I’m tired.”

“You have to train. You’re not going to get any better if you don’t.”

“Who says I have to get better? I’m already ranked number one.”

“You won’t be for long if you keep playing like you have been,” you point out, “now get up.”

You expect your husband to release his grip, to acquiesce like he always does but he doesn’t, instead using his strength to overpower you and pull you on top of him. You scoff. He still doesn’t let go, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold your body to his.

He kisses your jaw, your neck, nudges the strap of your tank top with his nose until it’s dangling off your shoulder and then he kisses you there too before sinking his teeth into the same spot his lips had just touched.

You barely react, your own exhaustion threatening to break your resolve.

“Stay in bed with me, baby,” Art urges, hands sliding down to your ass. His thumb rubs familiar circles over your panties. There’s no real intention behind the motion, not yet. He just loves your ass.

“Art...”

“There’s nothing I can do to convince you?” he asks.

“We don’t have time.”

“We can make time. They work for us.”

You press your forehead to his and sigh. A surrender. Art inhales you, craning his neck to kiss your forehead.

“Can’t you feel how much I want you?” he whispers as he pushes his hips into yours.

“You just woke up. Of course you’re going to be hard.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”

“What happened to sleeping in?”

“I changed my mind.”

Art shifts to get a knee between your legs, parting them with it so that he can press his thigh up against you. You know he can feel the heat of you through your panties. It’s no use pretending like he can’t.

“It’s been so long, baby,” he groans as he goes back to kissing his way down your neck.

“You fucked me last week,” you point out, even though you’ve started grinding on his thigh. You always have to have the last word.

“That doesn’t count,” he pants, “it was just a quickie in the bathroom of a hotel lobby. You didn’t even take your dress off.”

Your husband is right. You don’t have sex as often as you want to, as often as either of you want to. Even last week was a fluke. That night was the first time you’d fucked in almost a month, and neither of you had been expecting it to happen in the first place. It was simply a byproduct of too much wine and simmering tension that culminated in a guilt-laden exchange of pleasure- rushed and desperate, devoid of romance. It was like you were strangers to each other, not spouses.

You feel your husband’s wedding band, cool against your skin, secure around his ring finger as his hands continue to roam your body. He rarely ever takes it off if he has a choice, insistent on wearing it in the shower and to bed most nights. You think it might be due to the fact that he doesn’t get to wear it during matches or practices since it’s against the rules (for safety reasons) so he feels like he has to make up for the time he spends without it.

“Is that a yes?” Art asks, pulling your attention back to himself. “You’ll stay in bed with me?”

“Just this once. And we’re getting up as soon as we’re done here.”

He grins victoriously and uses the leverage he has to flip you over so that you’re underneath him.

“I love you.”

Your smile is a little more forced but you return the sentiment as you cup his face with your palm. “Love you too.”

Your husband kisses you again, this time trapping your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging gently, not applying enough pressure to bruise, but enough to leave indents. He seizes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth as soon as it presents itself and grinds down into you when you moan his name breathily in response.

He knows your body better than anyone, knows how to get you to do exactly what he wants, which is why he snakes a hand down between your legs and starts to play with you over your panties to make you want him even more.

“Soaked through these already,” he murmurs, “guess I’m not the only needy one.”

“Stop wasting time,” you mutter impatiently, swatting his hand away so that you can take your underwear off yourself. “We have places to be.”

Art clicks his tongue at you but keeps his thoughts to himself. He shuffles down the mattress until his face is level with your pussy. He swallows thickly and raises his gaze to meet your eyes, silently asking permission.

You grant it to him with a curt nod and prop yourself up on your elbows so that you’re able to watch him bury his face in you.

He does, but not before gently kissing the crux of your hip as a thank you. Your hands are in his hair before his tongue is on your cunt. He uses his hands to hold your hips down as you try to grind them into his face, easily overpowering you despite your effort.

Your husband has always been obsessed with the taste of you. You still remember him making some offhand comment when you first started dating about how he couldn’t believe Patrick never told him how good you tasted. He seemed to realize what he said as soon as he said it, eyes growing wide as he sputtered out an explanation that you brushed off with a scoff and a hand on the back of his neck to push him back down between your legs.

You never told him, but it turned you on to know that they talked about you like that behind your back, especially since it confirmed just how into you your husband had always been.

And even after all of these years, Art will still spend hours eating you out if you let him. He used to get on his knees in the locker room and beg you to hike a leg over his shoulder to let him make you cum on his face before every single one of his matches, claiming that it helped calm his nerves or that it was for good luck or something like that. You would still be able to taste yourself on his lips when he kissed you for the cameras after winning whatever title he was playing for.

You don’t know when that stopped but you do know he doesn’t play as well as he used to back then. Whether or not the two things were correlated, there’s no way to tell.

“So sweet,” Art groans in between licks to your clit, “been too fucking long.”

You can only moan in agreement as your husband grinds against the mattress. You know he wants to take his time with you but you’re impatient. You’re already getting a late start to the day and watching Art lose himself in the taste of you is only making you want him more.

“Art, baby?’ you ask, loosening the grip you have on his hair to thread your fingers through it gently.

He raises his head with a reluctant whine. “Hm?”

“Can you fuck me now?”

“But you haven’t-”

“I know. I just really, really want your dick right now.”

He pouts at you, almost tugging himself out of your grasp just so he can go back to eating you out but you stop him with a hand under his chin.

“Baby,” he whimpers, “let me finish you off.”

“You can, with your dick.”

“Fine,” he sighs, shimmying out of his boxers.

You scoff. “Acting like it’s such a chore to have sex with your wife when you’re the one who was begging me to fuck you.”

“I do want to fuck you, baby, you know I do. You just taste so good when you cum in my mouth.”

“If you make this quick, I’ll sit on your face and you can eat your cum out of me.”

A shudder rolls through your husband. You feel his cock twitch against your thigh.

“I love you,” he moans.

“You said that already.”

It's Art's turn to scoff. “Oh, have I met my quota or something?” He hoists your thighs around his waist as he lines himself up, grabbing a pillow from the top of the bed to put under your back. “C’mere.”

You arch your back to let him push it underneath you, taking a deep breath as he slides home. You stretch around him easily but still wince when he meets the end of you, his hips pressed flush to yours.

“God, yes,” you moan, locking your ankles behind his back almost immediately.

He takes a moment to let you adjust and gather himself before starting to move. When he does, it’s at an agonizingly slow pace. He can’t pull out very far with your legs wrapped around him like that anyway but even so, you can tell he's doing his best to hold back.

You smack his ass to try and spur him on but it only makes him bite down on your shoulder in retaliation.

“Always so impatient,” he scolds.

“We’re on a schedule,” you remind him. “Unless you don’t want me to sit on your face after this-”

Art groans but gives in, fucking you harder and faster until you can’t even form coherent thoughts to offer any more opinions. Your husband had always been good at taking direction but he was even better at fucking you stupid. It’s part of why your marriage has lasted this long.

“Feel good?” he asks, fully aware of the fact that you’re too gone to answer. “This what you wanted, huh?”

All you can do is whimper in response. He kisses you, swallowing the noise. Your hands fly to his back, manicured nails digging into his shoulder blades as you anchor yourself to him.

“Harder,” he grunts.

You oblige, pressing your nails further into him until he gasps in pleasure. You’re careful not to puncture his skin as you scratch up his back, knowing the marks you’re leaving now will raise enough eyebrows from his trainers as it is.

It isn’t long before he’s practically trembling on top of you, jaw clenched in concentration and restraint as he focuses on getting you to the edge first.

Being a professional athlete has afforded your husband plenty of advantages in bed: strong hips, great breath control, insane stamina... but none of that matters when it’s you he’s in bed with. You’re his weakness in every sense of the word.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he shakily admits. “Please tell me you’re close too.”

You are, thank god. He’s hitting that spot, the one that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, over and over and over and you just need a little more to fully come apart all over him.

“Cum for me, baby,” he begs, “need you to go first, come on.”

Ultimately, the begging is what does it. Something about the desperation in his voice always gets you off.

You cum with a sob of his name, squeezing him so tight that he can hardly pull out to fuck you through it. Feeling you clench around him is what does it for him too, though, and he barely chokes out a warning before he’s cumming inside of you, muscles going taut then relaxing as it washes over him.

After the aftershocks pass, he rolls off of you with a sigh, sounding both relieved and exhausted. You turn onto your side and snuggle up to him, surprising both him and yourself. He gives you a questioning look but doesn’t say anything as he accepts you into his arms and tucks you by his side. You lay there together for a moment and listen to each other breathe, enjoying a slower morning for the first time in a long time.

The sun is fully up now and you can even hear the world bustling around at street level below your apartment. You and Art were supposed to be well into your day by now but you’re still in bed, albeit very awake.

You tell yourself that you’ll get up, that you’ll make Art get up in just a few more minutes but he beats you to the punch, getting your attention by clearing his throat and putting on a very serious expression.

“So is sitting on my face still on the table?”

#challengers smut #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you

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specialgradefckr · 5 months ago

Text

Heatwave: Day 5

tw: explicit content, noncon/heavy dubcon. 4k+ words. Satoru/Reader/Suguru poly. afab!omega!reader, alpha!gojo, alpha!geto. yandere gojo and geto.

mind games, de-socialization/infantilization, caregiver/dependency kinks, piss kink, humiliation/control, captivity, stockholm syndrome, physical restraints, force-feeding (briefly), restricted bathroom access, suggestions of heat/breeding/pregnancy, reader has a panic attack.

Prompt: An omega is made to regularly piss themselves to show submission to the alpha(s) around them.

It’s for different reasons that Gojo and Geto force you to piss yourself during your captivity, but it always ends the same.

Laughter in your ears. A teasing joke – kinder, if it was from Geto – and perhaps they force you to sit there, soaked, for a few minutes until they tire of taunting you and carry you to the bathroom to wash it off.

They never leave you in there unsupervised, so it’s not like you’re ever relieving yourself without either of them present, as awful as the thought is.

That had happened only a couple times, early on.

Gojo had snapped that if you wanted to be left alone so badly, then he’d do it, even as Geto frowned in disapproval.

He’d continued to deliver you meals but otherwise went along with Gojo’s plan… even though you were chained to the bed, unable to so much as go to the bathroom on your own volition.

It was in part due to your own pride that you didn’t ask one of them to help you. You held it as long as you could – surely Geto would have to know.

He’d even asked if you needed anything one day in, and you were just about to ask him to take you to the bathroom when someone – Gojo, presumably – dragged him away.

Then you’d been left in the humiliating position of being forced to soil yourself. Literally, there’d been nothing else you could do.

Afterwards, you’d gone on something of a hunger strike. Couldn’t have your bodily functions and sanitary conditions held hostage if you didn’t eat or drink, right?

You would have been proud of how long you lasted, were it not for how it ended.

It was hard – very hard – to keep on declining food after Gojo started to get desperate, realizing that you really were starving yourself.

He started bringing you offerings of all the best food and drink you could think of. Tempting you with a picnic on the balcony, what would’ve been the first fresh air you’d gotten since they kidnapped you.

That might have been his rut coming on, which would explain his shitty attitude. Being possessive over Geto, over you.

Wanting to provide for you, feed you, growing utterly distraught that you refused to eat the food he presented. Going through a thousand options to please you, like you were his mate.

He was scary. Gojo had always been scary, so upfront and outright with his desires, so unwilling to ever hold anything back.

And it pleased you, somewhere in the dark part of your heart, to make your displeasure – your rejection – so plainly known to the alpha before you.

Later you'd realize that Geto was the scary one. He’d come in one last time, made a final offering and a strict but firm warning.

You turned him down again and he’d returned with a cloth soaked in chloroform.

When you woke up, it was to a tube down your throat and your arms and legs strapped down.

Geto waiting patiently at your bedside for you to wake up, shushing you as you struggled and tried to choke it out, holding your head down gently so you didn’t hurt yourself.

He cooed that you were just so helpless, you couldn’t take care of yourself, couldn’t even eat without being made to, so you absolutely needed to be taken care of.

Couldn’t you see? This was for your own good. You were literally starving yourself, and for what?

Geto reeked of alpha pheromones, which was worse. While Gojo had been inconsolable, seeking your approval and acceptance, Geto’s scent was all delight and satisfaction at having given you what you needed.

Your alpha who knew what was best for you, better than you did yourself, and he was easily able to wrestle his stubborn little omega into submission.

It hadn’t been all his patronizing rambling and smug proclamations.

It had been the fact that you were physically incapable of talking back, telling him he was wrong, telling him you were starving yourself because they did shit like this and you didn’t want to fucking LIVE LIKE THIS –

The fury had choked you, leaving you coughing around the tube for Geto to fuss over you some more, inordinately pleased with the situation.

He’d left you with the tube for two days. You’re sure he would have done it longer, would have left you miserable and uncomfortable like that, forced you to soil the special bed padding made for elderly patients, forced you to endure even more sponge baths like you were an actual invalid.

But Satoru whined about how lame it was to have to change and clean and check your tubes instead of sharing a nice meal together, how boring it was that he couldn’t speak with you, that you’d definitely learned your lesson now, right? Right?

You weren’t even embarrassed to nod as they both stared at you. Look me in the eyes, darling. You wouldn’t put us through that again, right?

Put THEM through it. Like you weren’t the one starving, locked in a room, treated like an actual fucking animal for not wanting to be cozy with your captors.

It’s worse because it plays into your instincts. That’s why they have these expectations, why they go along with all these insane things.

At first you’d been angry, as reluctant as any abductee would be, but the longer you were exposed to their scents, the more you grew accustomed to them.

The more they tried to take care of you, the more you wanted to let them. Two beautiful, strong, lovely alphas who wanted so badly to be good to you, isn’t that what any omega would want?

They knew it, too. That was the worst part.

Your heat was coming up, the first since they’d taken you away, and you weren’t proud or delusional enough to think you’d make it even a day without begging one of them to knot you. If Geto wanted to hold out, you knew Gojo would give in, all you had to do was whine for him.

It fucking stung, the fact that you’d already thought about it so thoroughly. It stung to know their plan was working, that you knew and expected yourself to fuck them during your heat, even as sexual encounters with them became more and more commonplace.

None of them were really consensual, but you weren’t confident calling them rape, either.

Not when they always did stop when you’d asked them to, even once or twice when you’d wanted it bad so so fucking bad.

Pheromones hot and sticky in the air, the scent of pleasure and desire tugging you in. Making everything perfect and right and safe with your alpha for just a few precious moments.

Just by his scent, you knew the alpha was just on the cusp; it was the most arousing thing you’d ever felt in your fucking life and everything inside you screamed to make them cum and give you more of those comforting, arousing, pleasurable pheromones… and you’d told him to stop anyways.

Just to prove that you didn’t actually have any power, this was all because of them. They were in control and they’d fuck you whether or not you wanted them to.

But they did stop.

Even when Geto’s impeccable self-control was in tatters, even when Gojo had gone feral with need fucking you hard; if you told them to stop, they would.

If you told them to get off you, they did. If you said not to touch, then they wouldn’t. At least, not for sexual purposes.

It didn’t stop either one from jerking themselves to completion in front of you; your alpha moaning and whining with a flushed face as he locked eyes with you.

What a tease, Geto would say, Needy little omega wants me to put on a show?

Gojo was no better, Fuck, babe, you kill me, you really do… but what my omega wants, my omega’s gonna get.

Utterly unfazed by rejection, by denial. It wouldn’t even stop him from cumming, from finding release as he gazed at you. The scent of his arousal was more than enough to keep you hot and wanting, hand moving to rub yourself without your permission at the sight.

Sometimes the other one would come and help your partner out, drawn in by the heated noises and obvious arousal thick in the surroundings. Eager to assist with a warm hand or a wet mouth, even locking eyes with you while he did it.

Something dark and possessive flaring inside you at the sight of the alpha that had been inside you seconds ago brought to completion by another.

Something almost worse filling your core with heat at the sight of your alpha being ravished, and another alpha your alpha fluttering his lashes at you as if to say don’t you want to be next? Next to cum, next to us? Inside us, around us, a part of us, like we’re entwined now?

Insane. Insane insane insane they’re driving you insane with this behavior. This façade of care and consideration.

Like you’re really lovers except for how you’re not allowed to choose what room you want to be in at any given time.

You can’t go to the restroom without permission. Can’t eat except for what they feed you. Can’t pick what show to watch, can’t go on the internet, can’t read a book or do anything to entertain yourself without their say-so.

They’ve arranged it somehow so that one of them is always with you. Even your bedtime – in the king-sized bed in the main room of the penthouse – is determined by them. No doubt they schedule it intentionally, so that if they both need to be gone, you’ll be asleep.

You can’t choose anything for yourself, but that’s not an omega’s place. Your alphas will present you with everything you need or want. It’s their duty to know you well enough to keep you satisfied always.

And when you do need to make a choice, when you need that element of control, they’ll give you the options to pick from, so you don’t get too overwhelmed.

Fucking archaic. No one thought that way about omegas anymore. No one treated omegas – anyone – like that anymore.

Nobody but Gojo and Geto, the only alphas in the world with both the power and the perceptiveness to provide so perfectly and so thoroughly.

But even those little moments where they offer you some choice, something they’ll actually follow through with, where your opinion truly counts – even that is just the illusion of power. They decide what to give you, when to give it to you.

And they do what they want, ultimately, hence the current situation. They like to make you drink, bring you glasses of water throughout the day for you to finish, “keep you hydrated”, and it’s laughably transparent what it’s in the service of.

But what can you do? They’ve proven they’re not afraid to force things down your throat. This is infinitely more comfortable than the alternative.

Sometimes if you complain enough they’ll bring you something other than water. Once or twice, Geto would let you pick – “Apple juice or orange, darling? You can always still have water, if it’s too hard to choose.” – and to your utter despair, you felt grateful.

Gojo, you think, genuinely gets off on the scent of your piss.

He’s a bit of a freak, though you’d known that from the beginning. Prone to nuzzling into the scent glands on the side of your neck while he took you from behind against some surface.

Inevitably, he pressed you into it, hard enough to pressure your lower abdomen. Between the pressure of his cock filling you entirely, and the press from outside your body as he fucked you against it, all you could do was whimper.

“S-Satoru,” He’s nicer when you call him by his first name, “Satoru, please, please, I – I have to go – ”

Another thrust, hot, heavy, harder than the rest you think, a grin you can hear, teeth against your ear, “I’ve got you, baby.”

“Eugh – please Satoru I can’t hold it – ”

“If you gotta go, baby, go,” He purrs into your ear, “Just follow your instincts. You can do that, right? Just let go.”

His words make it all the harder to hold back, the innate desire to please an alpha surging through you as your release approaches.

And you’re close, too, about to cum even as you can feel the urge to pee swelling with it. It’s gross, it feels awkward, but you just want it to be over –

“Aww, little omega needs some help? Let alpha help you along~”

Fingers trace over your clit and you squeak, Gojo just laughs while he rubs tighter against you, bringing you all the way over the edge. You cum with a cry, a shudder, clinging to him at your involuntary, humiliating release.

“That’s it, there you go, baby,” He pants, deep breaths as he thrusts his own release into you, “Piss all over my cock. Mark your territory. I can smell you.”

Heat shoots up your body, your cheeks. A sigh of relief as your bladder empties itself. Burning shame. It roils, churns; your thighs feel sticky with more than just cum.

You quiver, burying your head in his neck to avoid the smell. Gojo’s scent is sweet with delight as he rides you through the aftershocks.

He strokes your back while he coos, “There you go, wasn't that nice, baby? Didn't that feel good? Don’t worry, just leave the rest to your alpha.”

He made you do this. But it’s no use getting angry, tensing up or doing anything, really. Your omega instincts are telling you to give in, go limp and obedient and he’ll take care of you.

And you do. It’s either that or soak in your own piss. Gojo’s breaths are deep and he hardens inside you at the scent in the air, and all you can do is whimper.

You don’t complain when he fucks you again in slow strokes to avoid overstimulating you. When he gets fully hard again, you’re starting to clench against your will, and he starts pressing into your clit again in short circles.

His fingers are wet, warm, and it’s not long before he brings you to another peak, warbling high, soft noises while he purrs in satisfaction.

You try not to think about the mess on the inside of your thighs, on his cock. Gojo brings his finger from your clit to his mouth. Blue eyes boring into yours, grinning, while he licks it clean.

So you wait a little while before you whine at Gojo, “Bath,” leveraging the alpha’s need to coddle you.

It usually works. You’re usually only made to sit in your disgust for a few moments of hot, sticky, uncomfortable pleasure before he scoops you up and takes you to the bathroom.

You have a surprisingly thorough skincare routine. Geto likes routines, you think, and Gojo likes sweet-smelling soaps and lotions, and they both like pampering you.

Pretending that you’re their sweet little omega girlfriend they spoil rotten instead of a prisoner who can’t leave.

It could almost be nice. Gojo’s large form in the tub beside you as he carefully scrubs you clean, massages his favorite fruit scented shampoo into your hair.

Grooming you with a diligence that you wouldn’t expect from him, all soft hands and gentle circles. Rinsing everything out.

Your tongue darts out over your lips, purely reflexive, as he cleans you up. For his part, Gojo doesn’t even try to resist the desire to lick over your scent glands when he towels you dry.

You smell like him, after. It makes him hard, but it’s easy to make Gojo hard, like that’s his default state whenever you’re around.

Your bare neck does things to him, you think. It’s stranger that smelling Gojo on you makes Geto hard, when he comes in to make sure he's following your routine correctly.

Gojo kisses at the corner of your mouth before he pops out the cleanser. You sit down obediently for him as Geto walks in, like he can tell you’re going to be put to bed soon.

They fuss in unison; Geto wants a leave-in conditioner for your hair, Gojo thinks that’ll weigh it down. Taking turns massaging your face, your hands, with one product or another. You feel like a doll sitting there – they certainly treat you like one.

Neither of them ask for your input on anything. Gojo styles your hair as he likes, using the hair dryer on you. The one time he hadn’t, Geto threw a fit, saying you could catch a cold.

It feels nice. Hands running through your hair, brushing it. You could almost catch yourself purring. And then Geto will mention a trim, of Gojo will suggest some styling, and you’ll remember with frigid clarity that it’s not really your hair anymore. Just the hair on their pretty little omega doll.

Frighteningly, the thought makes you wet, sometimes. Sometimes you think you’re conditioned to get wet when you feel helpless, because that’s the only useful thing you can do. Get wet enough to make one of your alphas purr and kiss and fuck you into blissful comfort.

Gojo thinks it’s cute, thinks it’s darling, he’ll usually give in to you right away.

Geto actively tries to make you feel helpless. You think that’s what it is, when he makes you piss yourself, that’s what he gets off on. Making you drink more and more, knowing you can’t really refuse. Asking you to hold it just a little longer.

“Come now, we don’t want to make a mess, do we? Just another minute, little omega.” Geto likes it when you make a mess.

Or rather, he likes when you need him to clean you up. When you need him, in general.

“Needy little thing.” He sits you on his lap. The arm wrapped around your waist pressing against your abdomen. “One more minute, love, then we’ll head to the bathroom.”

He doesn’t encourage you like Gojo, but he wants the same thing. You’re not sure which one you hate more. He’s only pretending to fix your hair. Gojo and him are the only ones who see it. It’s not remotely critical, not like your bodily needs –

But you don’t get to decide what’s important. Geto does, and he says you stay here, even when you desperately, desperately need to go.

“Suguru,” You whimper, squirming. You just want it to be over. “Suguruuuu.”

No pretense, anymore. His hand that isn’t constricting your middle darts down between your legs. Rubs your clit over your underwear.

Rock hard. You can smell the arousal on him. But Geto’s worse than Gojo, because Geto doesn’t always care about getting off. Sometimes he’s happy just to finger you. Sometimes he either jerks himself or gets Gojo to get him off. Sometimes he’ll eat you out for hours, claiming you were too fussy, and if he puts his dick in you, you’re not awake for it.

The scent of his arousal has you dripping quickly, it’s not even worth it to stave it off. The best you can do is get him to do it faster, and even that’s not really up to you.

The pleasure comes beneath his fingertips, but it’s sharp, tapered by friction, and he keeps a steady pressure around your abdomen that has the pressure building in your bladder. It’s a painfully familiar feeling.

“Hold it.” He commands, your alpha, and you do, you really do. You don’t want to piss yourself, but you know he does, and he’s just fucking toying with you while he gets you there. “Hold.”

It’s hard, hard, pulling against the tide, fighting the promise of release that swells beneath his touch. You can’t do it long. Full to bursting.

“There you go, just a little more.” He finally drags his fingers beneath your panties. You’re ready to start crying. “So wet. You don’t want to make a mess, do you? Just wait a little longer.”

Lying lying he’s lying and the thought makes it so much harder to control but you don’t WANT to. You don’t!

You really do cry, a sob that catches in your throat when he dips a finger into you and you feel a dam begin to swell against the increased stimulation.

“What a good omega,” He purrs, like he’s noticing your discomfort and trying to relieve you, instead of enjoying it, “Hold it. Hold it.”

Another finger in. So full, you’re so full, it’s like his cock is inside you, there’s so much that it hurts, you just want to let go. He starts rubbing faster against your clit, a sweet friction that you have to fight not to buck into, muscles spasming, control faltering.

“Suguru,” Reduced to pitiful mewls. Just how he likes you.

“Hold it.” He says, and he knows, he fucking knows, he must know –

Fingers darting deep inside you, arm clenching violently against your lower half. Squeezing, squeezing, so hard, all while he pinches tightly at your clit. White hot pleasure pours through you, heady, flooding, and all you know is relief.

“Oh,” He says, like he’s surprised, even though you can feel his smile widen against your neck, “Oh, poor little omega. Had an accident, have you? It’s all right. It’s okay.” He prods tenderly at your clit, nursing you through it.

“I know how it is. You can’t help it, can you, baby?” He kisses against your neck from the left. “Poor thing. Don’t worry. Your alpha will take care of it. It’s only natural, silly little thing like you, you just couldn't help yourself.”

It’s a constant refrain they both like to repeat. Not to be ashamed of your instincts, your body, your needs.

You know why. To your great misfortune, you were born an omega, and so once you go into heat you’ll be struck with the insatiable desire for their knots, and it’s in their best interest for you not to resist that.

The less you resist, the better the chances their claiming bites will stick. Gojo already loves to chew at the glands on your neck – you think he’s even ‘called’ the right side, gnawing at there lazily while Geto is in the room.

For Gojo, it’s just dirty talk, but Geto likes to lecture you. There’s no one in your tiny world who has any level of disgust for your bodily functions.

They’ve seen it all, seen you helpless, sick, all kinds of messy, and they loved you, loved taking care of you. It was an honor for them to see you so vulnerable, an honor only your alphas deserved.

Sometimes he calls it desensitization training, like there’s a purpose to making you piss yourself besides getting high on control and making you humiliate yourself into submission to their whims.

But you do think there’s more to that for Geto.

If they had their way, you’d be a complete degenerate, an invalid, helpless by choice and totally disinterested in changing that.

A spoiled, mewling omega just a few steps away from ferality. They already don’t let you do much on your own, attending to even the simplest things all by themselves.

Knowing only to whine for your alphas to entertain you, provide for you, comfort you, because that’s all you ever needed to do. Utterly incapable of functioning in normal society, and unable to see anything wrong with that.

It’s coming. Soon. You know it is, and you’re sure they do, too. Geto in particular probably knows your body better than you do; probably tracks your hormones and cycles, may even be feeding you suppressants or stimulants.

You can only pray he’s bothered to give you contraceptives, too. Gojo’s a lost cause, he’s probably chomping at the bit to put a baby in you, but Geto would at least be concerned with the implications.

They’d chained you to the bed and locked you up for a couple days alone but they couldn’t leave you alone if you were pregnant. Their instincts just wouldn’t permit it.

Thinking about it makes you shake, uncontrollably. In your shared bed, in their arms, even with their voices cooing in your ear and their purrs and cuddles desperately soothing you.

Your heart trembles. Your heat is coming, it’s coming, and after that you could get pregnant.

They couldn’t leave you alone if you were pregnant. No alpha would ever be able to tear themselves away.

Alone, alone, locked in that tiny room. Chained up. You couldn’t even relieve yourself. Stuck in your own filth, abandoned by your alphas, the ones who were supposed to love you, protect you, provide for you.

They couldn’t, they wouldn’t. No alpha could abandon their omega. But they had once. They had once. They do whatever they want with you, no matter how much you hate it.

You tell yourself desperately you don’t want to be bred, and even you can’t tell if you mean it, excuses flashing back and forth in your mind.

What if they got you pregnant and decided you didn’t deserve their company? Decided you weren’t grateful enough for the calming presence of an alpha during your most vulnerable time? What if they thought you’d look cute, all pregnant and desperate and crying for them?

There’s no fix for this, nothing you can do about it, they’ve taught you that you can’t control anything in your life anymore.

Realization after realization crashes down, each little thing, can’t stop them from leaving, can’t stop them from breeding you, can’t stop them from fucking you in your heat, can’t do anything can’t you can’t you can’t –

They’re going to leave you. You’ll be heavy with child, longing for comfort and affection.

They’re going to make you need them. They’re going to make you weak in the worst possible way. They’re going to use it to hurt you.

Jerking, sniffling. Someone comes closer – it’s warm, paler, probably Gojo – but the shivering just gets worse.

Come closer, leave you alone. They’ll do whatever they want to do. You’ll just have to accept it.

They’re going to leave. Leave you alone. All alone. All by yourself. Locked up, in chains, unable to do anything. They made you need them and they’re going to leave –

Wetness pools in your eyes, and you blink it away without really trying, without noticing so much how the tears roll down your cheek.

The numb terror overwhelms everything. Cold, it’s cold, and somehow so hot. Your heart is trying to bolt out of your chest.

A name you distantly recognize as yours rings in your ears, but you don’t notice, don’t understand.

You’re too busy trying to breathe through all your panting, all the adrenaline rushing through you with the panic.

You feel helpless, completely helpless. Pinned between the two of them.

Larger, stronger, alphas who can subdue your resistance just by existing, emitting pheromones that send you into dizzy complacence or heady lust.

Alone. Alone, alone, they’re here now but it’s not because you want them they don’t care what you want they do what they want you can’t have anything can’t do anything you can’t you can’t you can’t.

The thoughts coil endlessly through your mind, spinning, spinning, spinning in place. A hand rubs against your back, a desperate purr in the distance.

Background noise. You're alone, trapped in your head, trapped with thoughts that won't stop coming.

Spiraling despair that just goes deeper and deeper, new fears unearthed with every thought.

You feel like throwing up.

Would they feel like cleaning you up? You’d be at their mercy, caked in your own vomit.

You feel like you’re dying.

Mabe you are. Maybe this is how they kill you, from the inside out.

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chuuyascumsock · 5 months ago

Text

Where Gay Goes to Die || Minors DNI

Summary: I have no words, and no apology because this actually slapped so hard. Let’s go lesbians lmao. Happy pride month.

Tags: Female! Chuuya Nakahara/Reader/Fem! Osamu Dazai, Afab reader, Threesome, Brief Voyeurism, Pet Names (Baby, Doll, Belladonna, Love, Pretty Girl, etc.), Classic Dazai-Chuuya Bickering, Fingering, Nipple Play, Hair Pulling, Face Sitting, Squirting, Strap-on Use, Slight Bit of Aftercare, Hints of a Poly At The End, Idk Maybe I’ll Make a Part Two, Haven't Decided, Honestly Downright Filthy Smut, Literally Wanna Be Stuffed Between Them Like a Sub Sandwich.

How you ended up in bed between your co-worker and her ex-partner from the mafia was a mystery to you.

One minute you were having drinks with the ADA earlier that night before slinking off to grab another drink from the bar. And the next you were being complimented by one of the five mafia executives herself who was sitting nearby, Nakahara Chuuya. You’ve never had anyone so boldly eye fuck you while smoothly commenting on the way you fought during one of your missions— and against their organization no less. Chuuya was ethereally beautiful, her russet tresses fell over her freckled shoulders, sleek dress hugging her physique tightly to reveal her curves. The most captivating characteristic of hers had to be her heterochromatic eyes, soft blue and brown that sealed your fate as she dragged you away from the bar shortly after your interaction.

Dazai had only noticed your disappearance after she was finished with her Sake. Whining and complaining to Kunikida about how much she missed you, Kunikida scoffed and fixed her glasses. “The last I saw her was talking to the bartender.”

Dazai was quick to jump to her feet and trail off to the bar, only to find no one but the bartender there. When asked, the bartender nodded his head off to the back door that led to an alleyway with a small warning that you had left with a woman described way too familiar with Dazai. Not only was it Dazai’s ex-partner back in the mafia, but you had fought against her just the other day. Dazai felt off when approaching the door, weary of what to expect.

Entering the alleyway, Dazai hadn’t been expecting to see Chuuya feeling your soft body up with her gloved hands while shoving her tongue down your throat and vice versa.

It took minutes for either of you to notice Dazai’s presence, too caught up in one another to see her staring you down as Chuuya had her way with you. The woman had tugged at the neckline of your tight dress, freeing your breasts to the cold air for the brunette to see before cupping and squeezing them. Your soft and cute mewls had both women wanting more as Chuuya’s lips captured yours again in a sloppy kiss.

Something in Dazai snapped and she knew that there was no more hiding her want for you behind sweet, charismatic smiles and adoring looks from across the office. She cleared her throat, a small gasp of surprise leaving you and not much of a reaction from Chuuya.

“The hell do you want, shitty Dazai?” Chuuya nearly rolled her eyes as she kept your plush tits groped and spilling between her gloved hands.

“What are you doing here?” You timidly ask, embarrassed for getting caught, especially with someone who was supposed to be the agency’s enemy.

Dazai kept her composure. “You were gone for too long so I came looking for you— but I see that you’re busy.” She completely ignores Chuuya for the time being.

“Sorry…” You whisper bashfully, head tilting down in shame.

“Well she’s perfectly fine, so you can leave now,” Chuuya grumbles, leaning forward to litter your throat with more hickies.

“I don’t think so— it’d be a shame for the president and Mori to find out what’s happening right now. Why don’t we talk about this at your place, hm, Chibi?” Dazai was clearly planning something.

And that something ended up with you sandwiched between both women in Chuuya’s king sized bed— Dazai’s long, manicured fingers stuffed in your cunt to the knuckles while Chuuya’s tongue entangled with yours, her calloused hand pinching one of your nipples between her fingers.

The loud squelching of your pussy around Dazai’s fingers makes your ears burn as you moan into Chuuya’s mouth, kisses growing messy and mostly tongue filled. Dazai grins in satisfaction as she presses a thumb to rub at your throbbing clit, enjoying every second of your soft walls clenching around her fingers. “Look at how cute her pussy is, Chuuya. Such a needy little slut— wanting both of us at once.”

Chuuya’s lips disconnect from yours, leaving a small string of saliva to break apart from your panting mouths. “Can’t you keep your big mouth shut for three seconds? You’re ruining the mood with your annoying voice,” She mutters in irritation at Dazai’s voice while looking anyway, her gaze glued to your slick pussy as Dazai’s fingers thrust back inside. Chuuya bites into her bottom lip at the scene momentarily before moving back to marking your neck up with love bites.

Dazai blissfully ignores Chuuya’s snippy comment, curling her long fingers to rub into a certain spot that makes your thighs quiver. “She’s so soft, I bet she tastes good too.” The brunette hums thoughtfully, her eyes trailing from your soaked pussy up to your eyes. “Do you?” She smiles mockingly, watching you stumble incoherently over your words into a muddle of whimpers. Her bottom lip juts out into a small pout as she continues to taunt you. “Oh, poor baby… can’t even talk— do my fingers feel that good?”

There’s a small wince as you feel Chuuya sink her teeth into your shoulder just slightly harder than the other bites when Dazai talks, most likely annoyed by how much more she was doing. Wanting more attention, Chuuya growls out, “Oh please, she’ll be crying over my strap compared to your lousy fingers.”

“Toys? A bit of a cheater, aren’t you, Chuuya? Can’t satisfy her on your own?” Dazai finally responds, mockery evident in her tone.

“Keep talking and I’ll throw your ass out to walk home in the cold.” Chuuya glares at Dazai before she moves away from you momentarily to crawl over to her nightstand to grab out a bottle of lube, harness, and a relatively long dildo.

Your face must’ve shown just how intimidating the size of the toy was as Dazai gives a light laugh. “Too big for you, darling? Bet you wanna keep my fingers,” She says in a sing-song voice, curling her digits once more. It’s enough to distract you momentarily from their bickering as you feel a familiar feeling building in your lower tummy.

“Relax, doll. It’s only eight inches,” Chuuya sighs nonchalantly, already strapping the harness around her hips and prepping the silicon toy with a thick glob of lube. The sight of Chuuya slicking the toy up with her hand only makes you clench tighter around Dazai’s digits.

“Well some of us aren’t as loose as you are, Chuuya-dear.” Dazai gives a faux innocent smile, malice clear in her eyes and tone. Her fingers falter a bit at Chuuya’s next words.

“You’ve got to be out of your damn mind to talk— you should be considered a fucking graveyard at this point with how many bones you’ve had in you.” Chuuya scoffs, slapping Dazai’s hand away from you as she grabs one of your ankles with her other hand to drag you to her.

You give a small whine, eyes hazy as your orgasm was ripped away from you.

Chuuya’s gaze falls back to a softer expression as she looks down at you, “I got you, doll.” Her hands move over to grab your hips and lift them until your lower back and ass are resting on the tops of her thighs, bright purple dildo resting between your ass cheeks.

“Well now you’re just being unfair,” Dazai complains, voice pitchy as she gives Chuuya a nasty look.

Before Chuuya could make a snippy remark about her leaving, you reach to lightly tap the brunette’s knee, signaling her to straddle your head. “Just so no one is left out…” You murmur, flustered.

“Well aren’t you just a sweetheart?” Dazai’s mopey expression washes away quickly as she shifts to make her way across the bed to straddle her knees on either side of your head. Her head tilts down to look at you, lips pulled back into a grin and lithe fingers threading into your hair. “You look cute between my legs, ‘donna…”

Your eyes lull as your gaze drops from her face to her cleanly shaven pussy, folds practically drooling with arousal which makes your mouth water. You nearly forget about the strap-on nudging against your entrance until it’s pushing in with no warning, the bulbous tip stretching you back open, though not as much as Dazai’s fingers had been. As your lips part to gasp at the sensation, Dazai is lowering herself down until your mouth is enveloping her, your tongue pushing through her folds and labia to lap along her tight hole.

You think you could drown in these women and let them fuck you until you’re nothing but a mindless, pussy-drunk slut for them, your hands coming up to grip into Dazai’s bandaged thighs and your hips jerking to take Chuuya’s strap deeper. And they don’t even keep it from you, letting you have your way as Dazai settles her weight fully onto you and Chuuya shifts to slip deeper into your aching core, walls greedily clutching around the dildo. Your moans are muffled by Dazai, your tongue laving through her succulent pink cunt, clit throbbing wildly against your muscle. She isn’t sweet like how it’s always described, a musky arousal evading your senses— but it isn’t unpleasant and it has you slurping noisily at her sloppy pussy loudly, making her moan and buck gently against your mouth.

It’s overwhelming how they both selfishly take as much as they give, Dazai’s free hand reaching behind her to rub your clit as she rides your face and Chuuya is sinking into you to the hilt and pulling away to create a tortuous pace, her hands gripping into the flesh of your hips. Your ears are muffled and you can’t tell if it’s from the pleasure or Dazai’s thighs pressing to your ears, hips rolling down to hump against your wriggling tongue.

“O-Oh, fuck, look at you… made for eating this pussy, huh, ‘donna?” Dazai groans, her fingers tightening in your hair painfully which causes you to gently scrape your teeth along her clit. She gasps and releases your hair slightly, fixing it almost apologetically and pets it down, her other hand now resting to cup your mound, middle and ring fingers gently rubbing circles into your clit.

You don’t let the stinging sensation in your scalp bother you when Chuuya’s pace picks up and her hips are slapping against yours, thighs jiggling each time she fucks the dildo deeper into your sopping pussy. That and Dazai’s insistent rubbing against your clit has that coil tightening in your lower abdomen once more. You wish you could see the way Chuuya thrusts into your eager pussy, the loud squelching of the dlido fucking into you being all you had to know how good she was treating it.

“Shit… look at you taking it all, dollface— your pretty pussy is sucking me in so. damn. tight,” Chuuya growls, hips slapping harsher with punctuated words, your body jolting with choked breaths.

“Don’t be so rough with her,” Dazai chides, not really caring about her being rough, but wanting to piss Chuuya off.

It works as Chuuya glares at Dazai and only picks up the pace, thighs stinging with each thrust as you feel her skin slap against yours and her grip grow tighter on your hips. “Don’t tell me how to fuck my girl, shitty Dazai.”

“Your girl?” Dazai humorlessly laughs out before letting out a small moan from your mouth sucking at her clit again. “Please— after this, she’s with me. I’m just nice enough to share this once.”

“Like hell, I made a move first, go find someone else to whore around with,” A huff leaves Chuuya, but her pace doesn’t change and neither does Dazai’s fingers against your clit. It has your mind reeling and body twitching, nearly teetering the edge of a climax— not that either woman noticed as they continued to bicker.

“Well I SAW her first, I called dibs. Besides, she works at the agency with me so that means that she’ll be coming back with me anyways. You lose, face it, Chibi.”

“Doesn’t matter if you saw her first, you’re just mad that I acted before you did. You’re such a petulant child, can’t even handle losing to me for once.”

“That’s because I didn’t lose, she’s mine.”

“Oh, you fuckin’ bitch—“

Their arguing is cut off by a loud muffled whine from you and an orgasm that has your body shuddering deeply, your pussy creaming all over the purple dildo. A small, frothy ring of your cum forms around the base with each thrust, leaving the two women to finally quiet down as they watch, movements faltering to a slow pace momentarily.

“Fuck… I wanna make her squirt now,” Chuuya exhales quietly.

Dazai nods slowly before murmuring, “Finally, something we can agree on.”

You pick up on their muttering and let out a muffled groan into Dazai’s pussy in attempts to disagree, not sure if you were able to take another orgasm, but it falls upon deaf ears and their movements pick back up to a frenzied mess now.

You squirm beneath them, eyes squeezing shut and limbs spasming as they overstimulate your flushed pussy, folds puffy and clit thrumming as Dazai adds even more pressure to your sensitive nub. You try so hard to focus on Dazai’s rutting against your mouth, but it’s difficult when they’re double teaming you like this and Dazai takes over, allowing her hips to grind down on your face. Her clit bumps against your nose and your tongue occasionally slips into her clenching hole, serving her just enough as she tries to desperately reach her own climax.

“C’mon, hun, let go for us, yeah? We know you can come again— wanna see you squirt, baby,” Dazai pants out, her bangs sticking to her forehead from the sheen of sweat she was working up. You can’t see Chuuya, but you know she must look similar to Dazai’s state.

Your head feels like it’s underwater and you can’t help but give into what the two women want, thighs clamping around Chuuya’s waist as your eyes flutter closed and your second orgasm crashes over you more intensely to the point your ears start to ring. A stream of arousal squirts out, splashing against Dazai’s fingers and Chuuya’s lower abdomen. A soft gasp slips from their lips and Dazai can’t help but come at the sight, her viscous cum coating your tongue and slipping down your throat like honey. It’s a pleasant feeling and tastes almost like nothing with a hint of her scent, making you moan weakly against her as her hips falter to slow down but refuse to let up from your mouth, insides pulsing against your tired tongue.

It’s a couple minutes until you gather your bearings and Dazai finally lifts her hips, breath hitching at the string of your saliva and her cum connecting your mouth to her pussy that breaks when she pulls away. It nearly gets her worked up enough for another round, but she presses the feeling down and moves to lay beside you, clinging to your side and burying her face into your neck.

Chuuya pulls out of you shortly after, slipping the harness off her hips and begins to clean up. She disappears off into the bathroom momentarily and returns with a small rag to clean your face off first of Dazai’s cum and then between your legs. The mafioso pecks your lips gently in comparison to her rough treatment earlier and glances at Dazai, throwing the rag at her lazily without a care. “Clean yourself up, would you?”

“What?” Dazai whines out, “How come she gets the princess treatment and I’m treated like a peasant?”

“Because you are one, you’re lucky I haven’t kicked you out at this point,” Chuuya clicks her tongue and turns her attention back to you and scoops you up into her arms. “I’m starting a bath, I don’t give a damn if you join or not,” She says to Dazai over her shoulder, leaving the brunette to complain about the unfair treatment she’s getting as she stumbles up to follow after the both of you.

With your arms looping around Chuuya’s neck lazily, a small smile curls in your lips, knowing that this wouldn’t be a one time thing.

#chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya smut #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai smut #fem chuuya #fem dazai #fem chuuya x reader #fem chuuya smut #fem dazai x reader #fem dazai smut #bsd smut

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strawnarrries · 7 months ago

Text

Perfume

Summary: You get a new perfume and it drives Harry insane.

Requested: Yes!

Word Count: 4.9k

Warning(s): light drinking, F/M receiving oral, unprotected sex

Never in a million years did you think such a small detail would have such a huge impact on Harry. You went shopping with a couple of your girlfriends last weekend and found a new perfume you absolutely fell in love with. You had been using the same perfume for quite a while now and figured it was time to switch it up.

After smelling multiple different scents, none of them stuck out to you until the saleswoman showed you a Tom Ford Perfume. It was perfect. It was a warm, spicy, vanilla scent with hints of sandalwood and roasted barley. It was seductive, but still managed to be sweet at the same time. It was a pretty pricey perfume but you were instantly sold after that first sniff.

You were obsessed with wearing it. You had only owned this perfume for about a week, but you had worn it every time you left the house; even if it was for something simple like making a quick grocery trip. You had not a single regret about spending so much money on perfume. Wearing the perfume made you feel confident and sexy. You got so many compliments from your peers and you could not believe how crazy it drove Harry.

It all started last week.

"Okay, baby, I'm going to meet Kate for brunch," you called to him.

You were going to meet your best friend, Kate for lunch at a cute cafe near your home. It was the first chance you had to try out your new perfume since you bought it the other day. You hadn't told Harry about it because you wanted to see if he would notice that you switched scents. You didn't get your hopes up because he is a man after all, but you were curious either way.

Harry sat on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, watching some random show you did not recognize. He wore an old tshirt and a pair of black basketball shorts. You walked over to him and pressed your right hand to the back of the couch next to his head, hovering yourself over his body. You pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before heading towards the mud room to grab your purse and your keys.

"Where are you guys gonna eat?"

"Burgh House Cafe," you replied, voice slightly raised so he could hear you from afar.

Once you stood back up from bending down to strap on your shoes, you were startled to feel him behind you, "Oh my gosh, you scared me. I thought you were still sitting down."

"Sorry," he chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pulling you into his chest.

"What are you doing?" you giggled, slightly confused because you only get goodbyes like this when one of you is leaving for a long time.

"Just wanted to hug you."

He nuzzled his face into the curve of your neck and you did not miss the deep inhale he took. He squeezed you tighter and hummed against the skin of your neck. He began pressing soft kisses to your neck, jaw, and cheek.

You giggled, letting him love on you for a little bit before squirming in his grip, "I'm gonna be late."

"You smell good," he mumbled.

"Do I?" you teased.

"Mhm, did you get a new perfume?"

"I did. I got it when I went shopping with my friends last weekend," you replied, turning around in his arms to face him before he immediately wrapped himself around you again, nuzzling his nose into your neck.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Wanted to see if you'd notice."

"How can I not notice when you smell this fantastic."

"So you like it?" you grinned.

"Mhm," he hummed, face still pressed against your neck.

You let him sway you back and forth for a moment, him inhaling and exhaling deeply while pressing sensual but sweet kisses to your neck.

"Okay, baby, I gotta go now."

"Nooooo," he whined, "I want you to stay."

You giggled at his neediness, "I'll be back in a couple hours."

"Mmmm, fine."

The next incident happened just a few days ago.

It was around 8:15am and you stood in the bathroom, getting ready for work. You had brushed your teeth, gotten dressed, and were currently working on your makeup. You heard him wake up and soon a shirtless Harry walked into the bathroom with sleepy eyes and bedhead. He was adorable.

"Good morning," you smiled at him.

"Mm, good morning," he mumbled back, voice raspy and deep with sleep.

He walked behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his bare chest. You smiled lovingly as he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek before snuggling his face into your neck.

You continued to coat on mascara, loving the warm feeling of him holding you until he suddenly groaned, "Ugh, you're wearing that perfume again."

"Is that bad?" you asked, slightly confused by his reaction because you thought he really liked it.

"Yes, because it's making it harder to let you leave. Want you to stay home and let me love on you all day."

You giggled, screwing your mascara closed again and putting it back in your makeup drawer, "Can't, baby. Got meetings."

"Cancel them."

"You know I can't do that," you smiled at him.

He whined, looking up at you through the mirror and pouting. You turned around in his hold and cupped his face with both of your hands. You pressed your lips to his pouting ones for a sweet kiss before saying, "Do your thing, and then meet me downstairs and we can have breakfast together."

And here we are to tonight.

You and Harry decided to have your group of friends over for dinner and games. It had been quite some time since your group got together so you were excited to see everybody. You had spent the entire afternoon cleaning around the house and preparing for your guests. You and Harry had suggested getting takeout for everyone rather than cooking and everyone agreed with that. You were relieved by that because you had not acquired good cooking skills and making a good dinner with enough food was not going to happen if you and Harry were in charge.

You all had agreed on Chinese and after getting everyone's orders, you and Harry went to pick it up. Once home, you began to set the table and make everyone's plates as they began to arrive. You all sat at the table and chatted, enjoying the company of some of your closest friends.

Once dinner was finished, Harry cracked open a couple of drinks and you all gathered around the coffee table in the family room to play a few games. Your friend group loved to play games so you had a wide selection of card and board games you shuffled through. You started off with one of your favorite games, Cards Against Humanity. It was probably the most widely known, simple game, but it never failed to make you all laugh.

In between switching games, you went to the kitchen to refill your wine glass. On your way back in, you met Harry's eyes and he urged you to sit with him. You sat angled towards him on the couch, one leg pressed up against your chest. He grabbed your other leg and hooked it across his thigh, letting it dangle in between his legs while his arm rested on the couch ledge behind your head. Harry has never been big on PDA, but as soon as he gets a few drinks in him, he is all over you. He constantly needs to be touching you, even if it's just resting a hand on your knee, or standing side to side with you, he wants you close. Physical touch is his number one love language and he never fails to show it after a couple drinks.

"Hi, baby," you grinned after taking a sip of your wine.

"Hi. Having fun?" he grinned back.

"Mhm, are you?"

"Mhm."

"What game are we playing now?" you asked him.

"Celebrity," he answered.

After a few rounds of that, your wine glass was empty again. You did not feel like having another glass so you got up and went to the kitchen to wash it out, saving yourself a little time tomorrow morning when you have to clean up the place.

Standing at the sink, you were rinsing out the glass when all of a sudden, you felt a familiar pair of warm, tattooed arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"You know, it may be the wine or your new perfume, but I'm tempted to kick everyone out and take you right here on our kitchen counter," he hummed, his voice slightly louder than you like due to the alcohol loosening him up.

"Oh my gosh, Harry don't talk so loud," you giggled at him cautiously, not wanting your friends to hear him talk so dirty to you.

He grinned, "I'm serious though. That perfume has been driving me mad all week."

"I know it has. You've been all over me," you teased.

"Can't help it when you smell so delicious," he hummed, his breath warm against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver up your spine.

"Don't get me riled up," you murmured.

"Maybe I want to."

His hand began to snake its way down to your inner thigh and you immediately grabbed it with your own, "Don't."

"What are the chances we successfully sneak upstairs for 5 minutes without anyone noticing?"

"Harry, no! That's not happening!"

"What are you talking about? I can easily make you cum in 5 minutes."

"No, not that," you giggled, glancing at your group of friends to make sure none of them were paying any attention to you two. Luckily, the only thing you saw was Brad and James screaming random celebrity names while Julia tried to act out who she picked out of the cards.

"I mean we're not sneaking away to have sex while your friends are all down here."

You have had a couple glasses of wine as well, but not that many.

"Why not?" he whined.

You began to reply, but then James interrupted you, teasing you both, "You two quit making out over there! Harry, it's your group's turn!"

You blushed slightly at the attention and laughed along with everyone else before joining them on the couch.

"How many did you get?" you asked Julia.

"Zero!" she replied angrily.

"Who was it?" you giggled.

"Rob Stringer! They took the entire round to miss Rob Stringer!"

For the rest of the night, you continued spending time with your friends. After a few more games, it was getting late and everyone decided it was time to go. You said your goodbyes to your guests and walked them each out the door, making sure they got into their cars safely.

As soon as the door shut, Harry locked it behind him, pulled you in by your waist, and started pressing sensual kisses to the delicate skin of your neck, breathing in your scent, "Been waiting for them to leave for hours."

"You were not," you giggled at his dramatics, wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his embrace.

He giggled back, trailing his lips up your jaw, to the corner of your mouth before molding your lips with his. You parted your lips as he licked into your mouth, tasting you. He tasted sweet, but also bitter due to the wine he drank earlier.

"Love you so much." he murmured against your lips.

You hummed happily, "I love you too. Did you have fun tonight?"

"I did. But there's still one more thing I wanna end the night with," he replied, pushing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

"What?" you asked, even though you knew exactly what he wanted.

You watched his pretty green eyes darken with lust as he spoke before his face disappeared into your neck again, lips touching every inch of your skin they can reach as he spoke in between kisses, "You. Upstairs. In our bed. Naked. Right now."

You giggled girlishly before urging him to lift his head, attaching your lips once again for a passionate kiss, "Mmm, you got it, baby."

Your lips moved in sync with his, each kiss getting deeper and more heated. You tilted your head to the side and he followed your lead, kissing you like it was the last time he ever would. Your fingers threaded through his locks, while his hands began sliding down your backside, cupping each cheek in his large hands and squeezing.

"C'mon, I can't wait any longer," he hummed against your lips, landing a playful spank against your left cheek.

You giggled and both made your way upstairs to your shared bedroom. After entering, he closed the door and immediately pulled his shirt off, tossing it to the floor before grabbing the hem of your sweater; it soon joined his shirt on the floor. He cupped your face with his two hands and again attached his lips to yours. His tongue slipped out, tasting you while you obliged, letting him take over the lead.

You ran your hands across his bare chest, feeling every ridge of his muscles. Your fingers slowly walked down his chest, tracing his happy trail before fumbling with the button on his jeans. He interrupted you by slipping his fingers past the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down your legs. You stepped out of them and were soon standing in front of him in only your bra and panties.

While still kissing you, he began urging you to walk backward toward the bed. The backs of your knees hit the edge and you sat down on the bed, your lips disconnecting from his. Scooting backward, you got comfortable in the middle of the bed while he slipped his jeans off, leaving both of you in your underwear. He climbed onto the bed, hovering over you before continuing his assault on your lips.

He began to subtly grind his hips against yours and you could feel his hardening member against your center. Your panties dampened in return, getting more and more wound up with each second that passes by. His lips trailed down your neck until he got to the swell of your breasts. Cupping each of them over the fabric of your bra, he squeezed them, accentuating the swell before latching his lips to the soft skin. He began sucking and nipping, leaving dark purple marks that only he would see. He pulled each cup of your bra lower, exposing your nipples to him. You felt them harden at the sudden change of temperature and heard Harry groan under his breath slightly.

His lips immediately wrapped around your left nipple, sucking it while his fingers pinched your right one. Your eyes fluttered shut and your hands tangled themselves in his hair as you enjoyed the feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple. He gave your right breast the same amount of attention before coming off of it with a soft pop.

"Take this off," he hummed.

You arched your back and unclasped your bra, tossing it to the ground with your clothes. Harry cupped them in his big hands again, this time with nothing blocking his access. He leaned down and began pressing kisses against all your sweet spots, sending goosebumps to prick against your skin. He trailed the tip of his nose up and down the nape of your neck, groaning, "Jesus christ, babe. You smell so fucking good."

You giggled, very amused at how much this tiny detail has riled him up, "Should've bought this perfume a long time ago."

He grunted in response, nipping your sensitive skin. You move his head so you can move your lips in sync with his, kissing him so deeply and sensually. His lips were so warm and his tongue was sloppy as he tasted you. You reached down in between your body and cupped his member, feeling just how hard he was for you. You slipped your fingers past the waistband and wrapped your palm around his shaft the best you could with the restriction. You moved your hand up and down before he rolled over, pulling you with him so you could straddle his lap.

You continued to kiss him, tilting your head for a different angle as your kisses got needier and sloppier. You adjusted yourself so your center was directly over his and you ground your hips against his, the friction being just enough to cause him to moan softly against your lips with each swirl of your hips.

"C'mere, sit on the edge," you ordered, climbing to the edge of the bed.

Harry followed, sitting on the edge and looking down at you. You sat on your knees in between his legs, running your hands up and down his thighs, the tattoos adorning them staring up at you. You leaned down and began peppering kisses to his skin, trailing your kisses up his thighs before reaching his member straining in his boxer briefs. You pressed your lips to it, letting your teeth gently scrape across the fabric.

"You're such a tease," he spoke.

"I love teasing you," you grinned, looking up at him through your lashes while your hand took over where your mouth just was, massaging him gently in your palm.

"I know you do."

You grinned, pressing a couple more kisses to his bulge before slipping your fingertips past the waistband of his briefs. He lifted his hips and allowed you to pull his underwear down his legs, letting them pool at his ankles before he kicked them to the side. He was completely exposed to you now. His tip, peaking out from under his foreskin, was swollen and red, leaking with precum and practically screaming at you for attention.

You wrapped your palm around his member, stroking him a few times before trailing kisses up the underside of him. You pressed a sweet kiss to his tip before slipping it past your lips, suckling it gently. You repeated your motions until you could feel his hips buck up, signaling he was getting antsy.

"C'mon," he muttered under his breath, his head falling back against his shoulders.

You smiled at how desperate he was for you before finally lowering your head onto him, taking him into your mouth. He groaned in pleasure, his head lifting up to watch you and his fingers winding themselves in your strands of hair. You bobbed your head up and down, your palm wrapped around what you could not fit in your mouth. Your free hand reached down and cupped his balls, massaging them gently in the way you knew he loved.

"Ugh, that feels so good, babe. You look so hot right now," he grunted, tugging gently on your strands of hair.

You hummed, grinning softly at him as you licked up the underside of his shaft, erupting another deep groan from his throat. You watched as his body reacted to the feel of you. A thin layer of sweat glittered on his skin. The two fern tattoos lining his deep V-line swayed like leaves on a tree with each clench of his abdomen. The moth tattoo just below his pecs danced with every inhale and exhale he took.

Feeling slightly adventurous, you wrapped your hands around his thighs and took him in your mouth again. Relaxing your throat, you took him deeper, your eyes pricking with moisture as his tip tickled the back of your throat. Bobbing your head up and down again, you found a good pace and you could tell he was rounding the corner to an orgasm.

You came off of him and wrapped your palm around his shaft, pumping him as you spread the mix of saliva and precum against him. You wrapped your lips around his tip, suckling softly before taking him in your mouth again, loving the way his breath hitched in his throat.

"Shit, baby, I'm close," he warned.

Usually at this point, you would stop. It usually takes him a little bit of time to recharge in between orgasms (especially now that he is older) and on late nights like tonight, neither of you feels like waiting for him to get it up again so you can have sex. But you wanted to play with him a little bit and see how far you could push him. So you didn't stop. You came off of him with a soft pop and wrapped your palm around him, thrusting it up and down at the fast pace you knew was his sweet spot.

"Y/N, fuck-don't. I'm so fucking close."

"Where do you want it?" you teased.

"Inside of you - god, babe, you gotta stop," he groaned almost painfully, wrapping his hand around yours and pulling it off of his throbbing member.

You stood on your feet and towered over him. You cupped his face with your hands and kissed him. His scruff tickled your skin while you shared his taste, the sound of your lips smacking against each other filling the room. You placed your knees on the bed on either side of his hips, straddling his lap while never letting your lips depart.

"You're a menace," he hummed against your lips.

"I know," you replied cheekily and he smiled widely in response.

Wrapping his arms around you, he stood up and turned around, laying you down on the bed. The roles were switched and he was now on his knees below you. He pulled you lower so your hips were on the edge of the bed and he was face-to-face with your center. He saw the wet patch on your panties, his thumb reaching out to run up and down your clothed slit, allowing your arousal to soak through the fabric even more.

"Soaked through your underwear, babe. Am I that sexy?" he teased, lips beginning to press kisses against your inner thighs.

"Mhm," you replied, feeling antsy in excitement for what was to come.

He pulled your panties down your legs, your glistening center now fully exposed to him. Your scent was so strong; the mix of your arousal and perfume filling his nostrils and making his member twitch between his legs.

"Bloody hell," he huffed to himself, tossing your panties to the floor, "You're gonna fucking kill me one day, you know that?"

You smiled as he awed at what was in between your thighs, your stringy arousal making his mouth water in anticipation of tasting you. One of his favorite things to do. With one hand cupping your hip, his other hand reached up and began running through your folds, spreading your wetness. He placed his thumb on your throbbing clit and began to slowly move it back and forth. You hummed softly at the relief, hips bucking up as you got needier for his tongue.

He wasted no time as he leaned in and licked a strip through your folds, humming in satisfaction at the taste of you on his tongue. After spreading you open for him, he wrapped his pink lips around your clit and began suckling. You reached down and threaded your fingers through his chocolate locks, tugging gently.

He began flicking the tip of his tongue back and forth across your bundle of nerves, your hips instinctively bucking up as your orgasm began to build. Playing with the shape of his tongue, he alternated back and forth between slipping into your slick entrance and suckling on your clit.

He came off of you softly, lifting his head to look down at what his mouth was just playing with. Using his dominant hand, he ran his fingers through your wet slit, admiring how slick and swollen you were. Turning his arm palm up, he slipped his middle finger past your entrance. You let out a moan as he felt around you, finding that spongey spot that caused your toes to curl.

He added a second finger and began pumping them in and out of you. The only noise to be heard in the room was the sound of your moans of pleasure and the squelching of your arousal against his thick fingers. You felt your walls clenching around him each time he brushed against your good spot. You could feel your orgasm tightening in your stomach and you knew it would not be long until he had you trembling under him.

"Oh, Harry. Just like that, don't stop," you moaned.

And that is exactly what he did. He continued his movements on you, desperate to feel you cum against him. With his fingers moving in and out of you at the perfect pace and his lips wrapped around your clit, your body was numbed with pleasure as your orgasm washed over every inch of you. Your back arched off the bed and loud moans spilled from your pink lips, letting him know just how good he was making you feel. Coming off of you with a soft pop, he sat up slightly, angling his arm to drive his fingers deeper into you. He watched as he carried you through your orgasm, in awe at how perfectly your body reacted to him.

Your orgasm began to fizzle out and your moans were overtaken with heavy breaths as you relaxed back into the warm sheets beneath you. Removing his fingers, Harry lowered his head again and lapped at your core to taste all of you, causing you to whimper slightly.

Harry stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before hovering back over you. He pressed his lips to yours for a sweet kiss before trailing them down your neck, giving you time to catch your breath, "I fucking love watching you cum."

"Mm, c'mere," you hummed, reaching down between you to wrap your palm around his member before blindly trying to line him up with your entrance, "I want you inside of me."

He replaced your hand with his hand, lining himself up with your entrance and immediately pushing in. You both let out moans of satisfaction, finally feeling relief from connecting to each other. He began moving his hips, grinding against you as he moved in and out of your slick entrance.

"Oh Harry," you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, pulling him close to you, "I love you so much."

"I love you too, baby. You feel so good," he whined back, lips brushing against yours with each thrust.

You clenched your walls around him, feeling every inch of him inside of you. You were slightly overstimulated by your orgasm just minutes before, but it still felt so good. He was grinding against you, his tip hitting your good spot with each thrust of his hips. His lips landed on yours and he kissed you slowly and passionately before trailing to your cheek, past your jaw, into the curve of your neck. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to all your sweet spots, his breath warm against your skin. He felt good. He always made you feel good, but right now, you were desperate for another release. You needed more.

"Faster please," you moaned.

Obeying you, he stood up on his feet and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. Wrapping his palms around the back of your knees, he pulled them up to have your calves resting against his shoulder blades. Cupping his hands around your hips to steady you, he sped up his pace, driving in and out of you quickly. The change of position caused him to go deeper into you, allowing a new angle that made your toes curl against the skin of his back.

His hips slapped against the back of your thighs, reddening them with the constant force. Your breast bounced with each thrust of his hips against yours, moans and groans spilling from both of your lips. His balls slapped against your clit with each pound, stimulating you in the perfect way. You were getting close and Harry could tell.

"C'mon, baby. I know you're close. You're clenching me so fucking tight, it feels so good. Wanna feel you cum around me. C'mon," he urged.

It did not take long until your second orgasm of the night erupted in waves throughout your entire body, pleasure overwhelming every one of your senses. Your walls clenched around him tightly, triggering an orgasm of his own. His warmth spread through you and filled you up, causing a whole new wave of pleasure throughout your body. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your grip on the sheets was so tight your knuckles turned white. Both yours and Harry's moans mixed together and echoed throughout your home, filling it with sounds of your love.

His pace began to slow down as you both came down from your highs. He collapsed onto you, head resting just above your chest bone. You held onto him, running your fingers through his sweaty locks as you both caught up with your breath.

"That was so good," he breathed out, his breath warm against your skin.

"Really good," you agreed.

"I can't remember the last time we both finished at the same time like that."

"I know," you chuckled breathlessly.

He raised his head to look at you, pushing your hair from out of your face before cupping your jaw, "I love you so much."

"I love you too. So much, baby," you replied, your heart swelling at this sweet moment.

"Don't ever get rid of that perfume."

#my writing #one direction #harry styles #one shot #writing #smut #one direction writing #one direction one shot #one direction one shots #one shots #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #one direction smut #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #husband!harry

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macfrog · 1 year ago

Text

jet

🎉 thank u guys so much for 1k followers 🎉 i don’t know how we got here but i love you all endlessly and can’t thank you enough for all the love n support. here’s some smutty joel to celebrate 🤩 this might become something, it might not. i dunno. wanted to try it out tho. lmk your thoughts ✨

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel have an agreement: follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. what happens when, one night, he asks you to break the deal?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) post-outbreak!joel, pining i guess?? when don't i pine for this man, praise kink, light bondage, fingering, unprotected p in v sex (don't u dare), creampie, dom!joel, soft!joel, age gap (late 20s reader, late 40s joel), cursing, cute horsies

word count: 6.9k

main masterlist

Somewhere between Missouri and Illinois, last time you checked. Joel has the map, and you don’t bother asking him to see it much. You’ve been following the Mississippi north, on his orders, looking to hit St. Louis sometime tomorrow. Provided you don’t run into any trouble, that is.

It’s been three days with no safe refuge. Camping out in deserted houses with wood for windowpanes, stores infested with rats, office buildings with infected roaming. Joel figures the outskirts of the city are a good spot to stop for a couple nights, regain your strength, find supplies.

You’re a few paces ahead of him, only turning your head slightly when you notice an offramp, and looking back ahead when he doesn’t give any direction. You weave in and out of abandoned cars, hips swaying with the clipping of your horse’s hooves on broken asphalt, Joel’s horse in time at your heels.

You’d untethered the pair of them on a farm back in Nebraska. Joel had told you to stay put while he cleared the house, but you’d wandered over to the field when you spotted them. Timid, skittish, starving.

Five minutes hooked over the fence and they were both eating grass you’d pulled from the earth, right out of your hand. Joel’s heavy footsteps approaching had spooked them back a few steps, but you’d petted their muzzles and when he did the same, they soon warmed to him, too.

He’d jerked his head in a nod and muttered, “Good job,” before finding two saddles, strapping them on, and helping you onto the chestnut brown one – who you’d named Jet.

Joel had found tins of food in the farmhouse, and a switchblade for you to carry. He had a new stain on his shirt.

“Infected?” you asked.

He grunted in reply. Then rolled the tins into his backpack and hoisted himself onto his own horse, giving her reins a tug.

You knew that meant that yeah, there’d been infected inside. And recent, too, going by how well-kept the horses looked. It can’t have been longer than a week.

Joel’s silence as you both wandered down the farm track probably meant that there weren’t just adults in the house, either.

You’d glanced over to him, giving him a small smile. Bent over and reached for his horse’s ears, scratching where her soft black coat met her mane. The reins lay loose around Joel’s knuckles.

Protecting and providing for you was more important than some infected kids in a farmhouse. Joel had made that more than clear over the time you’d been with him. But somewhere, buried deep underneath years of fighting and killing, tucked away under a dusty flannel shirt, you knew his heart was hurting.

That was two weeks ago. Joel hasn’t talked about it, and you’re not interested in bringing it back up. Y’all got to the farm, took everything it had to offer, and you left.

Jet clicks her way along the highway somewhere south of the city. It’s still bright out; Joel reckons probably a few more hours of sunlight, so you know he’ll be scouting for places to camp out soon.

You lean back to stretch your spine, hand steadying yourself on Jet’s rump, her tail swishing as she walks. Her head bobs, looking from left to right, from the trucks with smashed windows sprouting moss, over to the trees losing leaves in the fall breeze.

It’s peaceful. Not much is, these days.

It’s quiet enough that Joel can listen for any sound of oncoming threat, and quiet enough that you can shut your eyes and pretend like you’re on some trail in the Texas country, on a warm summer evening; not exhausted, covered in dirt, weeks since you washed, days since you slept.

You’re humming gently to yourself, imagination taking you down by a creek where Joel pulls you by hand off the horse and you sit down to a picnic or something. He’d bring a basket. Maybe a bottle of wine, or a cheese board. Maybe he lays you back and kisses you on the blanket. Maybe his hand starts to wander up your thigh, skirt ruffling as he goes…

“Not much out here, is there?”

His voice startles you, bursting the seams of your daydream. He isn’t much of a talker, not unless you start it. You sit up straight and give your head a shake, as if dislodging the fantasy from your mind.

You twist around to look at his face; squinting under the bright white sky. Tired, same as you, lined, flecked with years and sun and survival.

“Hm?” he asks when you still don’t reply.

“Not a lot,” you finally say, clearing your throat and turning back to the road.

Finding the horses isn’t the only thing that’d happened two weeks ago.

Joel hadn’t wanted to camp in the farmhouse, hadn’t wanted to have to shift the bodies. Too much effort, or too much for you to see, maybe. You’d protested, heart set on a night’s sleep in an actual bed, but he hadn’t budged.

And you knew not to push him.

The sun was setting, though, so Joel led you down a dirt track toward a barn and burst the padlock. He tied the horses up just inside the door, used bundled up hay as a makeshift mattress upon which he laid out a blanket for you.

He barricaded the door as you lay back, did a walkaround of the place just in case any infected – or worse – were waiting to surprise y’all, and then sat down next to you.

Your head by his thigh, you put a hand on his knee.

“You can lie down, too, y’know.”

He grunted in response, breathing deep and steady.

“Joel.”

You took his shoulder and tried to pull him down to you, but the man is stronger than anyone you’ve ever met, even in his late forties, and you were convinced he’d only pretended to be yanked toward you so as not to hurt your feelings too much.

He remained upright. “Just want to keep watch for a while.”

Joel’s like this when you’re on the road. He’s cautious. On high alert. Always watching ahead, always listening out for whatever he thinks he might hear in the distance. Sometimes you can say something to him and have to give his leg a kick for him to answer you.

You’d sighed and pushed yourself up to lean your bicep against his. He furrowed his brows and scanned you from your jeans to your jaw.

“If you’re up, I’m up,” you told him.

“You need sleep,” he replied flatly.

You shrugged. “So do you.”

“What good is both of us tired?”

You sighed again and shook your head. You weren’t gonna argue with him.

Good thing he didn’t feel much like arguing, either. Ten minutes later he was on top of you, jeans loose on his thighs, head buried in your shoulder, fucking you senseless. Grunting and groaning into your skin.

You’d scored marks into his shoulder blades with your nails that you’re sure, if you peeled back his shirt right now, would still be there.

It’d tired you both out enough that Joel settled with your head on his chest, his hand in your hair, eyes trained on the barn doors. You don’t know if he slept a wink. You never know if he sleeps these days.

Joel hears the hoarseness of your voice and knows that you’re tired, ‘cause he clicks to his horse and she trots up alongside you and Jet. He pulls the map from his backpack. You tilt your head to take a look.

“Keep ridin’ for another hour,” he mumbles. “’m sure we’ll find somewhere soon. Looks like we’re still a little way out of St. Louis.”

You nod, rolling your head back. The cloudy sky burns your corneas as you watch a bird fly overhead. Joel slips the map back into his bag and you feel his hand on your thigh.

“You okay?”

“Mhm. Tired,” you whisper.

“Only a little while longer.” He gives your leg a small squeeze and his hand returns to the reins. He doesn’t fall back, instead, stays ambling along by your side. It feels like company. Feels nice. Feels…normal.

Two weeks is a long fucking time. Especially when your adrenaline peaks on the regular, sometimes multiple times in one day, and you’re alone with Joel all day and all night. Trusting each other, relying on each other. Saving each other time and time again. It was only natural that you began to rely on each other for…more than just survival.

You can’t remember when you found him. It was in the QZ, back when you believed in stability and structure. When you believed in people. Now, the only thing you believed in was Joel. Broken, hurt, shut-off Joel, who’d grumbled an apology when his shoulder brushed yours in the hallway and changed everything.

You like to think you were something new to him, something different. A challenge, maybe. Something worth holding onto, anyway, for reasons he was yet to let you in on.

He had an apartment of his own, with a bed of his own, which was something you weren’t used to. You shared a cramped apartment with Luce, a single mom with a two-year-old. Joel’s was where you went when the tantrums, the screaming in the middle of the night, the ration cards being destroyed either by ripping, by eating, or else by other means, became too suffocating.

Joel didn’t believe in anything or anyone, either. That’s what kept you coming back.

He’d just open his door and step aside to let you in. Barely a word. He’d ask if you’d eaten, and share his plate with you either way. Wordlessly picking away at the same food, making sure you got the last spoonful of soup, the last strip of jerky.

Most nights he’d fuck you until your mind went blank, nothing but the smell of him, feel of him, sound of him. No talking, no kissing, no touching. Just the sound of the bed springs, Joel’s soft groans as he bottomed out inside you. The feel of his hot skin, hips rubbing against the inside of your thighs. The bare, cracked brick walls of his apartment would fade away with each thrust, and then slowly seep back in when your orgasm began to wash away.

You knew it was time-wasting, for both of you. Scratching an itch. But some nights, it felt like more. The nights when he’d be so caught up in what he was doing, so caught up in you, that he’d forget to pull out. The nights his hips would snap messily and suddenly he was spilling inside of you, a deep groan humming against your skin between his teeth.

He wouldn’t care to ask, and you wouldn’t offer the information for free, but you remember every fucking time he did it. Where it’d happened, the position he had you in, how long it took for him to finally peel his body off of yours.

And afterwards, he’d let you sleep with your head on his chest. Let you play with his fingers. Let you talk to him; let you ask questions.

Didn’t mean he answered all of them. Didn’t even mean he answered much. Some, he’d give away more openly than others, but you soon got used to clocking when he was keeping a secret. Make a mental note of it, remember to chip away at it.

He trusted you, though; you knew that. Knew it by the way his fingers knotted safely in your hair, the way he’d lie naked with you until the sun came up. The way his breathing would slow, the way he’d mumble in his sleep.

You never talked to him about the incoherent words he’d breathe – but you could piece them together well enough to understand him better than his waken self would ever reveal.

When you brought up leaving, one rainy night weeks ago, he thought about it maybe twice over. Asked how he was supposed to keep you safe.

You do that already, you told him.

‘s different outside. You don’t understand.

It can’t be any worse than in here.

You’d taken a step forward, and he’d flinched, but allowed you to take his strong jaw in your hands. You tried to form a sentence, and when your throat closed up, eyes flitting between his, he took your wrists and lowered them. The shadow of a rain-spattered window doused in a sickly amber glow across his face.

You’d wanted to kiss him. And had he left your hands where they were just a few seconds longer, you think you might’ve. Joel saw it in your eyes, and stopped it.

Whatever. It had still convinced him. He packed his bag and you snuck down the fire escape the following night. Joel’s fingers were hooked around your belt loop the entire time, keeping your hip in stride with his all the way until you were at least a hundred feet away from the QZ wall.

His other concern was his age. Why someone like you would want to run away with someone like him. Forty-something, graying, past his peak. He has, like, twenty years on you. Once he made some reference about Bruce Springsteen and, when your face blanked, he sighed and took the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

I know who Bruce Springsteen is, asshole, you’d said, just didn’t get that reference.

He’d shaken his head and given you a sly, twisted smirk, then pushed you out the door of the apartment block you guys were searching.

Still, despite the years between you, you have one major thing in common.

You’re both good at getting each other…there.

Joel knows exactly what to do to make you tick. You know exactly how to push him until he does it. It’s in the way you look at him, the way you touch him. Things you say that make his stony eyes flit once down your body, and then you know you’re in.

It’s a little harder to do while on horseback, you gotta admit. The best you can do is look at him, say a sentence or two laced with want and need. Hope that he reads through the lines.

It’s worked a few times, when Joel’s suddenly found a shed or basement you can camp out in and then made it difficult for you to walk for the next couple days.

Right now, you feel too tired to even bat your eyelashes at him, never mind coming up with lines to turn him on. You’ve been on the highway for a few hours by this point, little sign of shelter anywhere nearby. Joel holds his hand out and you bring your horses to a stop in view of a hospital a couple miles ahead.

“That’s gotta be teemin’ with them,” you say, looking over to study his expression.

“Hm,” Joel agrees, and glances to the right.

“What you thinkin’? Sun’s getting lower.”

He takes a deep breath, pulls on the reins. “Know somewhere nearby.”

He heads off the highway with a click of his teeth, and you follow. You shut your eyes, chin burying beneath the collar of your shirt. You’d kinda hoped that he’d offer to clear even a small part of the hospital for you to rest up, maybe more, but you trust him enough to lead you somewhere safer, somewhere quieter.

That trust begins to wear thin, though, when the sun disappears behind the trees, drowning you guys in a low dusk, and the temperature begins to fall. Joel’s using what’s left of the gray light to guide him, slowing down to take a hold of Jet’s reins and line her up with his own horse.

“I thought you said an hour,” you mumble, grip becoming slack on the leather.

“Changed my mind,” he replies. “Almost there.”

Your eyes start to roll with exhaustion, hips aching from the position you’ve been sat in for hours now. It’s not until you notice the silhouette of a tall sign in the clearing, black against the fading purple sky, that you blink yourself awake.

Joel pulls you and Jet off the road to a deserted parking lot, shadowed by a motel. He slows the horses down, listening for any signs of life, leading them to the side of the building.

“Easy,” he whispers, pulling on the reins. Both animals come to a halt.

He slides off the saddle, hitting the ground with a thud. He takes your hands, pulling you down to him, and you glance around.

“Stay here,” he tells you, and you don’t have the energy to argue back.

He makes off, pulling his gun from his holster. You stand with a hand on each horse’s muzzle, gently petting. Joel’s gone for a decent amount of time, his silhouette slowly sneaking in and out of every room, spending a couple minutes in each before he clears it.

He returns with a box of pills, some gauze, and a bottle of water, which he hands to you. You take a long swig and pass it back, and he does the same.

“What will we do with Jet ‘n…?”

“Huh?” he asks, replacing the cap on the half-empty bottle.

“What’s your horse called?”

“She ain’t got a name.”

You tsk. “Bad owner.”

“We ain’t their owners.”

“Mine’s is Jet. Pick a name.”

Joel sighs and shakes his head, but you know he’s gonna spend all night thinking up some name to go with yours. “We’ll tie ‘em up out here.”

“What if something happens to them?”

“Well,” he says, leading them toward the shelter, “if somethin’ happens to them, it only means it’s about thirty seconds away from happenin’ to us.”

He jerks his head toward the first room as he ties them up, and you know the conversation is over.

You wander into the small, dingy room, pulling your jacket from your shoulders. It smells of damp, the wallpaper’s peeling off the wall above the bed. The sheets are in disarray, a little dusty, but they look clean enough. The bathroom walls are covered in grime. Drawers empty, closet doors missing, entire place ransacked.

It’s as good as you get, these days. At least it has a solid roof.

Joel settles the horses and closes the door gently behind himself. You’re already tugging your boots off, sat at the foot of the bed.

He rests his gun on the nightstand and straightens up, stretching his back with a quiet groan.

“’s cozy,” you offer, and he nods.

“Better ‘n risking that hospital.”

The bedsprings creak when you shimmy up the mattress, resting your back against the hardwood headboard. It ain’t the most comfortable, but then it’s not meant to be, is it? It’s only meant to be safe, which Joel’s made sure of.

He stands at the bottom of the bed, watching you as you bounce up and down a couple times, laughing quietly at the sound of the springs beneath you. His expression clouds over under low brows.

“Y’okay?” you ask, tilting your head.

He nods again. Eyes flitting up and down, from your face to your neck, back up, and then lower still. Your chest. Your stomach. Your legs. You feel your heartbeat quicken when he takes a step forward.

“Just had to find somewhere better.”

“Better?” You smile. “Have you seen the world, Miller?”

He leans his knee against the foot of the bed. His brown eyes darken even more, and his jaw tenses.

“Had to find somewhere better,” he mutters, “so I could fuck you in peace.”

Your breath catches. You stare from his lips back up to his eyes. His fists are balled tight. His chest heaves with steady panting. There’s something flickering in the depths of those warm eyes; an ember, drawing you in. Tantalizing you.

You sit forward, pushing onto all fours, and crawl down the groaning bed to him, rising onto your knees when your hands meet his shirt. Your chest against his stomach, you look up into his eyes.

His rough hands knot in your hair and he pulls down, yanking your head back and your chin up to him. He studies your face, outlined in the moonlight seeping through the window. Then he lowers his jaw and lines his lips against yours.

“That what you want?” he hums against your mouth. You swallow his words – they claw at your throat as they go.

“Uhuh,” you breathe back, trying to connect your lips. He doesn’t allow you; steadily dodges your jaw like you’re a pair of negative magnets, repelling off one another. You moan.

“Needy girl,” Joel whispers. “Two weeks too long for you?”

“Mhm.”

You’re not tired anymore. You’re fucking desperate. You feel your cunt dripping, seeping through your underwear, worsened when Joel’s hand reaches down between your legs and cups you through your jeans.

You gasp and grab his arms to steady yourself.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, hand tensing around your core.

Your lip trembles as you watch the way his mouth moves, how he shapes the words. His teeth locked between soft lips, dappled with brown hair, ends singed gray. The way he almost spits the words.

Your chest meets his torso when you breathe in, a deep, shaky breath. Joel notices; the corners of his mouth twitch, holding back a smile.

“Want you to…want you…”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence. He pushes you back and falls on top of you, strong body pinning you against the mattress, hand still clamped to your crotch.

His head dips to your neck where he bites, scratches and sucks, mumbling against your hot skin, “Tell me, baby. Use your words.”

Your head begins to swim, body starts pulsing with electricity. Baby. Joel’s pet names are limited to one thing. One activity.

“Want you to f– fuck, Joel – fuck me.” Fuck me fuck me fuck me.

His hand begins wrestling with the button of your jeans. Thick fingers fumbling with your zipper, taking your waistband with both hands and hauling it down. The force of it pulls you down the mattress too, squealing as Joel rips the denim from your legs. You lower your hands to help him, but once they’re tossed to the floor, he bats you away.

He’s shaking his head, tsking, then takes both your wrists in one of his huge hands. Fingers twisted around your delicate skin, pinning them above your head. The bed sighs around you when he pushes your hands into the mattress. Your back arches, your chest rising to meet his.

Your legs part, knees settling either side of his waist. Of course they do. It’s what you know now. It’s basic fucking instinct at this point.

His free hand returns to cup your sex, feeling how wet you are through your now soaked underwear.

“Baby,” he coos, “this all for me?”

You nod a little too eagerly, not that you’re present enough to care. But it beckons a smug smile from Joel, who begins sliding your panties down your thighs.

Your hips lift to let him drag the fabric down, biting your lip, not willing to wait another fucking second for him. Lace meets denim on the torn-up floor, and you sigh, settling back against the rusty bedsprings and mottled sheets.

Joel’s free hand ghosts from your wrist down to your elbow, teetering along the sleeve of your t-shirt over to the collar, where he pulls it so far down into the valley between your breasts that a small noise passes your lips.

“Hm?” he asks, fingers pausing against your breastbone.

“’s my only shirt. Don’t…”

He kisses his teeth. His gaze never lifts from your heaving chest, skin damp with sweat right underneath his fingers. You can see him tossing it over in his head. What he wants to do, versus what he probably shouldn’t.

He blinks. Decision made.

“Give you one of mine,” he growls, and hooks his fingers, dragging the fabric of your shirt lower and lower until the collar tears open and it’s another scrap lost to the motel room floor.

And then there you are, naked and writhing underneath him. He’s still in his dusty flannel. There’s sweat lining his forehead. He holds himself over you, hovering, taking every inch of you in and storing it behind his eyes.

You jerk your hands, trying to break free just to touch him, feel him, but he pulls away again, tutting.

“No, pretty girl,” Joel coos, “gonna take my time with ya.”

You moan in protest, still wriggling under his body. His grip on your wrists doesn’t loosen, not even when his free hand dips to undo his belt. The cold metal kisses your naked thighs when he pulls it through his jeans; the leather drags up your torso and across your face as he lifts it.

He takes your hands individually, careful and yet rough, urgent, and slots them between the slats of the headboard. Your head turns up to watch what he’s doing. The silver of his belt buckle knocks against the wood as he slips it under your wrists, feeding it between your skin and the mattress, wrapping it around the slat between your hands.

Then he slips the belt through the buckle, and pulls. Tight. Your hands come together, wrists kissing, the leather burning your skin the tighter he pulls. You whine, head rolling back to meet his gaze, fixed on yours.

“Since you don’t wanna listen.”

The drip in his voice, sweet like honey, smooth as whiskey, forces your legs open wider. Joel smirks, pushing himself down the mattress and out of your view.

Staring up at the gray ceiling, you’re left just to feel him. Feel him as his palms splay out on your knees, pushing them into the bed. Feel his stubble graze the inside of your thigh as he drags his tongue up, leaving a trail of wet behind.

Feel when he breathes a whisper across your aching cunt, something you can’t hear over the ruffling of sheets around your head as you toss around. And feel when his fingers part your lips, opening you up wide for him to really fucking see.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, and you find the strength to lift your head to watch. He’s leant over you, one arm hooked around your left thigh, holding it open, the other fucking…playing with you. Like you’re some fancy gadget. Like you’re brand new to him.

“So,” he runs two fingers from your clit through your folds, “fuckin’,” lines them up at your entrance, “pretty – for me.”

He pushes up into you, and your head hits the pillow with a stifled groan. You’re panting through your teeth, back arching the deeper he goes, stretching you out and rocking waves of sparkling heat through you. Waves that hit the other end of your stomach and come rippling back, throbbing around his thick fingers.

His arm bears down on your thigh, forcing your legs wide open for him. His hand cups your clit and you buck your hips, rutting against the base of his palm. Joel laughs softly.

“Patience, darlin’. Don’t want it to be over ‘fore it’s even started.”

Your head rocks back and forth, eyes tight shut. It’s all you can fucking do, tied tight to the bed. Joel pumps his fingers in and out of you, adding a third when you’re wet enough, thumb never leaving your clit.

You can feel your orgasm brewing in your stomach. Feel the tension between your hips. You’re chasing it, eyes shut, focusing only on Joel’s hand fucking in and out, in and out. You’re coming close, body pushing into the mattress, legs widening even more to let him slip a fourth finger inside you.

“Feel good?” he asks, almost with a laugh. There’s a smirk painted across his lips, you know it, even though you can’t find the energy to open your eyes.

You whimper in response, some small, muffled sound roughly shaped like yeah.

“Yeah,” Joel agrees, and his wrist flicks harder.

You moan every time his fingertips kiss the edge of your cunt, pushing against the soft walls. You moan when he drags them out, leaving you empty. Again, when he pushes them back in, rough and fast. And then when he lowers his lips to your ear and tells you how good you’re being, how pretty you look, how hard he’s gonna…

It’s like he changes his mind in an instant.

Withdraws his hand, slick-covered and still hooked. Pulls it away as quickly as he pulls your orgasm from your body. It drains from you; reduces back to an ache you can’t reach.

Joel slips his fingers between his lips as he readjusts himself, repositioning on the squealing mattress. Sucks them clean as casually as he would at a cookout or something, then takes your hips in both hands and straightens you up.

His jeans are tugged down barely past his ass. He’s not prepared to waste any time ripping his own clothes off like he did yours. Just leans forward, pulls his solid cock from his boxershorts, and spits into his hand.

You watch through eyes glazed with lust as he strokes himself a couple times, eyes always on your swollen cunt, groaning as his spit coats his shaft. Then he lowers himself to you and does the same, only running his length through your folds.

You whine, feeling that familiar thickness separate you so close to where you need him, and yet so fucking far.

“Joel…” you whisper, but he’s not listening.

Transfixed on the sight of his cock moving against your soaked cunt. Listening to the sweet, wet sounds the pair of you make. His tip catches on your entrance a couple times and you gasp. Just fucking do it already.

“Fuck,” Joel growls under his breath, and then…

It’s been months. Might even be years. But the feeling of him pushing inside you for the first time is still the same. Every. Fucking. Time. He’s bigger, thicker than anyone you’ve ever slept with before. And he knows it, because every single time, he glides into you without hesitation. No time for you to adjust. Just fills you up straight away, lets you deal with it later.

He’s cocky like that. Too careful when you’re on the road, and too careless when you’re between the sheets. Not that you’re fuckin’ complaining.

Your mouth falls open in a choked moan. Your lungs are gasping for air. Joel’s all you can feel.

Your elbows lift into the air, arms desperate to break free just to grab onto him, ground yourself, feel him close against you. Your wrists lock against the hardwood, leather digging into your skin as punishment for trying to break free. You’re stuck; nothing but the overwhelming feeling of him between your legs, filling you up and leaving you empty over and over again.

“Good girl,” he’s panting, still watching where his cock lines up with your cunt, and then disappears inside.

He leans down and his lips find home on your shoulder, sucking sweet marks into the skin like he always does. His tip bumps against your cervix, jolts of sensitivity pushing through you each time he bottoms out causing you to whine into his flannel.

“Fuck, Joel.”

“I know, I know. I got you. I’ll get you there again, baby.”

You had a routine. Follow his movements, follow his orders, stay alive. Deviate slightly from that routine, even for a minute, and you threw the whole agreement into jeopardy. One misstep on a crowded street dotted with cars once had a sniper open firing at you both for nearly two hours until Joel found him and put a bullet between his eyes. That time your curiosity got the better of you and Joel almost lost a hand stopping you from walking down an alleyway and straight into a wire trap.

Repeat it, Joel had said that night. Crouched by his apartment window, rain battering off the glass. Hands on the frame, ready to hoist it up and let you slip out any second. Repeat. It.

Do as you say, you whispered back. And only then did he pull the sash.

This is not the fucking routine. This is not the agreement. You fucked, of course you did. But that’s all it ever was. Hungry, touch-starved, desperate sex. Bored sex. We-almost-died-today sex. Not this.

Not: clear an entire motel just so nothing within a two-mile radius gets to hear you fuck me senseless. Strip me down, tie me up, push me to the edge with your hands, but don’t let me go without you. Curl your lips around my ear while you’re buried inside me and whisper praises. Whisper baby. Whisper…anything you like. Anything you wouldn’t say when the sun’s up.

This feels like it means something. To both of you. Feels like Joel’s looking for something in you, asking something of you. And you want to give it to him, whatever it is.

And maybe that’s the point.

He’s proving that he could make you do fucking anything. Let him tie you to a bedframe, push you close enough to the edge that you can feel the pressure of release beckoning you forward like the wind circling your ankles.

And you’re proving that you’ll do it. You’ll do what he says. Follow him to the edge, refuse to jump. Pull his body into yours, make it feel like home for a night.

He’s proving that he’ll take care of you, and you��re proving that you’ll let him.

Your wrists are burning. Leather digging marks, searing skin, then rubbing over it again and again to cut it deeper. It’s starting to hurt, if you’re honest with yourself. Your face probably gives it away.

Probably, possibly. Definitely.

Joel notices you quieten and lifts his head from the crook of your neck. Studies your face for a fraction of a second and knows.

“Hey,” he says, reaching up. He loosens the belt with one hand whilst still deep inside you, hips thrusting slowly just as a place marker.

When your hands slip free, Joel’s clasp gently around your wrist, fingers delicate over the sensitive, reddened skin. His eyes almost glisten at the sight.

“Baby…” he whispers.

“’s okay,” you reassure him, loosening his grasp on you and settling your shaky hands on his jaw. “I’m okay. Liked it.”

Joel lowers his forehead against yours and picks his pace up again, and you moan into the space between your lips. Your legs lift higher, knees bumping against his shoulders. His hips snap into yours, his jeans rutting against the inside of your thighs, the bed creaking with each messy thrust.

“Close, baby,” his voice vibrates against your lips.

“Yeah,” you whine, chest pushing against his. “Fuck. Right there. Fuck.”

Your arm drapes over his shoulder blades, nails dig into the rough cotton of his shirt. Your left hand is still at his jaw, fingers caressing his cheek. Joined together at your hips and your brows, gaze never really meeting for longer than a second, but still. You’re right there. Joel – he’s right there.

It’s new, it’s intimate. It’s almost…sweet.

“Gonna cum with me?” he asks, sincerely. He’s not trying to coax it out of you. He’s checking that you want to fall over the edge. Not for him, not because of him, but with him.

You nod and he returns it, sweat sticking his dark hair to his forehead.

With his eyes on you, flitting between your parted lips and your batting eyelashes, too scared to settle on either place for too long, he lifts your hips and fucks into you fast. Deep. Fucking – hard. Skin slapping against yours, breath hot and tangling with yours between your lips.

The pressure between your hips begins to build again, rapidly, Joel adding to it with every movement. Every push of his thick cock against your walls only draws them in tighter, closing around him, holding him closer to you with each moan escaping both your lips.

“Darlin’…” he murmurs in a broken voice, and you know. He’s starting to falter. Thrusts weakening.

“’m there too,” you reply, gasping for breath.

“Let me – feel you,” he says, “pretty girl.”

Maybe it’s the fact you don’t normally talk. Maybe the fact he never touches you the way he has tonight. Maybe it’s him wanting you to cum first, before he will.

Or maybe it’s pretty girl, that finally sends you over.

You look so good to him. You’re being so good for him. ‘n he can’t help it, has to let you know. Has to let every thought that passes through his head slip out past his tongue.

Pulling his chest flat against yours, you throw your head back to the pillow with a moan so filthy, so guttural that you’d be surprised if you don’t have company in five minutes.

Joel’s at your heels, face buried between your breasts, groaning into your chest as his cock twitches deep inside you and you feel him fill you up.

Your orgasm’s still knocking you senseless, every nerve in your body electrified. You’re holding Joel tight to your body, his ear flat to your chest, and you know he can hear your heartbeat. Know he’s listening to it throwing punches from behind your ribcage.

He’s still groaning through his breaths, heavy and thick with his release. Cock still deep inside you, still, softening. You lay like that for…well, you’ve no idea how long. But after a bit, Joel pulls himself up off of you and wanders into the bathroom.

You sit up on your elbows, taking deep, steady breaths, and let the stars in your vision dissipate. Joel emerges a couple minutes later and finally tugs his jeans down. He lifts both his shirt and the tee underneath off in one motion, tossing them onto the sideboard, then slips back under the covers, wordlessly hooking a hand around your upper arm and pulling you down onto his chest.

Your legs intertwine with his. There’s cum seeping out of you onto his thigh. Both of you, mixed up as one. His fingers sift through your hair, doing little to untangle it but trying all the same. His breathing in time with yours, his lips pressed safely to the crown of your head.

Before you know it, you’re sleeping.

Dawn breaks early. Too early. You’re still tangled up in Joel, feeling his chest rise and fall. Listening to his heartbeat – slow, calm. The drapes – not that there’s much left of them – are too thin to stop any light from flooding in. It’s only a matter of time before he wakes up.

The rough sheets sting against your wrists – red marks scoring them where Joel’s belt had been. You wince, running light fingers over the grazes, hissing at your fingertips as they go.

It hurts way less than it thrills you. This little reminder of what you did last night. What Joel did. The pain subsides the longer you touch the scars, knitted brows melting into a smile.

You slowly lift your head, propping yourself up on your elbow. Just watching him. The dust in the room frames him in a sea of white glitter, the slow-emerging sun lights across his face and dips where the scar on his nose sits.

His arms are still around your waist, cradling you. Holding you to him. You know he’s stirring when they tighten, and then fall loose. Façade back up. Walls slowly rebuilding.

You dress yourselves in silence. Run out of words to say. There ain’t nothing to say – nothing that wasn’t said last night. Joel sinks into the mattress beside you to tie his laces, and your arms brush against one another a couple times. It’s like fire on ice.

He’s first to leave the room. Just pulls his jeans over his boots and stands, unlocks the door and lets the light flood in. You check once over for anything left behind, and slip out. The air is cool, twilight still slowly washing away. You sling your jacket over Jet’s back and pull yourself up.

Joel’s t-shirt is loose over your shoulders. He gave you a fresh one from his bag. It smells like him, but you don’t let him see when you bury your nose into it to breathe him in. The hem bunches up over the top of your thighs once you’re sat on the horse.

His eyes scan down you once, surveying you in hisshirt. Then he swerves off back toward the road, silhouette cutting between the rays of sun streaming between the pine trees.

“Ghost,” he tosses over his shoulder.

“Huh?” You click to Jet to follow.

“Horse’s name. Ghost.”

“How come?” you ask when you’re side by side with him.

He shrugs, upper lip turning. “When it’s dark, you can’t hardly see her. She’s like a ghost.”

Joel’s hand surfs gently across Ghost’s mane, fingers scratching her shining coat. Your bodies rock in time with the sway of the horses’ walking. The echo of their hooves on the asphalt masks the silence for a few moments.

“Alright,” you eventually accept, turning away to watch the sun lift above the prickly treetops.

And to hide the smile tugging on your lips.

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skzdarlings · 10 months ago

Text

sharing a bed ; seungmin ; sequel

masterlist.

original one-shot.

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers. sequel to sharing a bed one-shot linked above. morning afters. running from feelings. making reader jealous. confrontation with a creep and light violence. sexual content includes blow-jobs, hand jobs, strap-on blowjobs, 69ing, rimming, pegging, light choking. some brat seungmin and sort of brat tamer reader (kinda just likes the brat lol). word count: 7k.

Kim Seungmin, the perpetual thorn in your side and ache in your head, is torturing you.

Not the fun kind of torture, either. You had your fill of that two nights ago when a silly scheme resulted in a horny happenstance and you let yourself get carried away. Your careful control not only slipped, but fell right into the hands of someone you once disliked.

It left you befuddled in the light of the day, when you woke to Seungmin curled around you, his cheek pressing into your bicep and his leg hooked around yours. Not to mention his morning wood digging into your hip. It surfaced memories of the pretty and unexpected piercing you found there, how your idea of this guy was so so wrong. And it made you wonder what else you were wrong about, and all the ways this burgeoning something could go wrong in turn. Your thoughts spiralled.

You were no longer handcuffed, so you slipped out of bed and walked right out the front door. You hoped a walk through the brisk winter morning would help clear your mind. It did, but only momentarily. When you got back to the vacation house and ran into Seungmin, you fumbled. Badly. You meant to be pragmatic but came across dismissive. Something about how last night was the only night. Something about how you were bad at commitments. Something about being better off friends.

Seungmin was silent the whole time, letting you ramble like an idiot. Then his eyes narrowed and he laughed. It was an airy, unpleasant, and derisive sound.

“Trust me,” he said. “We will never be friends.”

“Well, fine,” you said, bristling despite the fact you were the one rejecting him. What did you care if he hated you again? You didn’t. You shouldn’t. “Good.”

It was not good. Saying it left a sour taste in your mouth and a pit in your stomach.

And despite it all, your stupid horny hindbrain did not relent, purring like a kitten when Seungmin gave you a judgemental once-over and scoffed. You could not help but remember the very different noises he made last night, again and again, in your hands and mouth, from your actions and words.

You will never look at him the same way again. You have no idea how to move forward, but you know you can never go back. Pretending nothing happened will not work for once.

It freaks you out. You are usually good at shucking attachments. His cold acceptance should not have hurt. What did you care? This vacation would end and you would go back to your own lives, right? So you let Seungmin shove past you. He ignored you for the rest of the day. When he started an argument later, causing everyone else to groan, you replied like always, but it was half-hearted at best.

Oh god, you think now, rubbing the bridge of your nose, I can’t start thinking with my damn heart.

Emotional attachments and long-term romantic liaisons never turn out well. You cut a dashing figure but your many flaws eventually find their way to the surface. It is not worth the inevitable heartbreak when someone sees under the charming mask to the real you.

Rather than suffer later, you are suffering now, brooding over a beer while doing your damnest to not look across the bar. You know you will not like what you see.

You and your friends only have a couple more nights at the vacation lodge, so you all went down to the nearby resort to drink and dance and enjoy a fun night out.

You are not having any fun, of course. You are sitting on a bar stool, all alone at the counter, in your signature leather jacket as you hunch over your drink and glare at nothing in particular.

Seungmin, on the other hand, is suddenly a dazzling socializer rather than an obnoxious stuck-up jerk like he used to be. You expected him to sit in a corner, making snarky remarks all night, but instead he has been moving from person to person, flirting with anything that breathes.

He is also wearing an obscene pair of jeans. No one else in the friend group seemed to notice, not a single eye so much as twitching in his direction, but you noticed. Oh, yeah, you fucking noticed. The second he came bounding the stairs, swinging on a stupid baggy letterman jacket like the twerpy little prep he is. His dark hair neatly combed, bangs swept off his forehead, brightening his gaze.

The jeans. The stupid fucking jeans. Straight-cut denim that has absolutely no business cupping his ass the way it does. And why does he have such a nice ass anyway? It also has no business looking that way.

Kim Seungmin. What a nightmare.

You take a swig of beer and glare at the wall. You tell yourself not to look at him. He is probably leaning over some equally prissy knob and offering to buy them a glass of milk or whatever people like them drink.

So, no. You will not give him the satisfaction. It is no coincidence that in all the time you have known him, Seungmin has never been flirtatious or promiscuous, but the second you turn him down he is slobbering all over anything that moves.

You will not let him get to you. You will not look at him. You will not react.

Except he is already getting to you. So you look over. You react.

“For fuck’s sake,” you grumble, abandoning your beer and stomping down from your stool.

Seungmin is huddled in a booth with some colossal bitch of a man. You recognize him from the other night, remembering how much time he spent harassing the bar staff. Seungmin doesn’t know that. He might be your enemy – or whatever – but you are not gonna leave the guy with that kind of jerk. And you are not secretly thrilled that you are justified in storming over there, drawing up to the table with all the aggression that has been building inside you.

You slap a hand on the table, bringing their attention to you. Seungmin gives you a once-over, then smiles that stupid smile of his, all boxy and puppyish, like you are the funniest punchline to the funniest joke in the world. There was a time you used to fantasize about swiping that smile off his mouth. You are still thinking about occupying his mouth, just not like that.

“Move along,” you say to the creep.

“Excuse me?”

He is already drunk. You can smell it as much as see it. Seungmin is looking very smug and you start to feel like he picked this guy on purpose.

Seungmin drives you crazy, he really does. One second he is all good boy, the next he is purposefully throwing himself at a creep just to get a rise out of you. You feel like he would take a running leap off the mountainside if he was inclined to a prove a point to someone. He is fearless and ridiculous and you want to hate him. You want him to be the boring two-dimensional snob you thought he was. You have no idea what to do with the complicated man in front of you.

That’s a lie, you think, meeting his gaze. You know exactly what to do with him.

You swear his eyes are twinkling. He slouches back comfortably, arms crossed.

“I told you once,” you say, tearing your gaze from him to look at the creep. “Now move along.”

“Try me.”

The guy was only bothering women and seems uninterested in Seungmin so you suspect he just wants to piss you off, but then he puts a hand on him anyway, grabbing Seungmin by the arm so suddenly that it surprises him.

Before Seungmin can shake him off, you snatch the guy by his wrist and twist. He yelps, struggling to wrestle his arm back from your iron grip. You slam him against the back of the booth.

“Touch him again,” you say, “and I will break your hand. You wanna try me?”

He opens his mouth, no doubt to spew some smelly rejoinder, but you don’t stick around for it. You grab Seungmin by the elbow and yank him out of the booth. You drag him away.

“Excuse me,” Seungmin says, not politely, ripping his arm back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’m saving your dumb ass from getting felt up by every creep on this mountain.”

“Meh-meh-meh,” he mocks, dodging when you reach for him again. “I’m having fun. I don’t need you to do anything. It’s not like you’d really care if something happened to me. Bad,” he smirks, “or good.”

He knows he has you cornered. You might have the physicality over him, but he is holding this entire scene in his hands. You can only rub your jaw and shake your head, trying and failing to remember how to act indifferent.

He has the tiniest drop of cream on his upper lip, leftover from the sugary abomination someone bought him.

You say nothing in reply to his deliberate antagonizing. You plant one hand on your hip and reach for him with the other. When he tries to dodge, you grab him by the shoulder, firmly putting him in place. He does not move the second time, standing still while you wipe a thumb across the sugary residual.

Then you push at his bottom lip, press down, flicking your thumb so it bounces back. His stare is unwavering. He is not the blushing type, but he noticeably swallows.

“Come on,” you say, zipping up your jacket. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he asks.

You grab the back of his neck and drag him right up against you.

“I didn’t ask,” you say.

“Friends don’t get to make demands, dumbass,” he says, sneering the word friends. He does not wriggle away, but he does not fully surrender either. He meets your stare head-on, unmoving and unintimidated.

He is going to make you say it. He is not going to let you act sexy and charm your way out of it. He is going to stand in this bar with your hand uselessly holding his neck until you do.

“Fine,” you say. You exhale. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said all that dumb shit. I’m a moron.”

“Yes,” he says. “You are.”

“I didn’t think it would matter that much anyway.”

“Because you aren’t the romantic type,” he says dryly.

“Because I didn’t think you’d care,” you admit. “You don’t like me and we don’t get along anyway. I just—” You finally drop your hand, waving at nothing and looking away. You can feel him glaring at you. “Look, I suck, I get it. Believe me, I know all the ways I suck. I figured I’d spare us the mess when you figured that out so I just walked away while it was still good.”

“You’re an even bigger idiot than I thought,” he says. He is still frowning at you. “I already know how much you suck. It was the first thing I noticed, you arrogant, womanizing ass.”

“Hey now…”

“You’re vulgar and loud and, for someone without a dick, you think with it constantly.”

“I… don’t…” You do.

“And for some reason even though you are the biggest idiot and the worst person I have ever met,” he says, still glaring, “I still like something about you. Because even though you’re determined to not let anyone see your good side, unfortunately you have one. Even though it’s buried so deep you have to walk into hell to find it.”

It did not really occur to you that Seungmin has already seen your worst qualities. Because you did not get along, you never felt a need to hide those attributes. Inadvertently, you have been more open and honest with this annoyingly handsome brat than anyone else you have ever known.

You cannot help the smile tugging at your lips. Seungmin rolls his eyes.

“You’re hopeless,” he says, shaking his head as he shoves past you. “Take me home, idiot, before I come to my senses.”

You turn to follow him, only to get bopped on the nose when he shoves a pointed finger in your face.

“If you even think about acting like a moron in the morning,” he says, “I will kill you and make it look like an accident.”

You draw a cross over your heart and nod. He huffs in aggravation, turning on his heel and stomping outside.

“You’re the worst,” he says. He swings open the door and stomps into the snowy night, seemingly unbothered by the fluffy bits of snow swirling around his face. He just swings up his hood and marches through the downy white carpet. “You better make this worth my while,” he says.

Your eyes are on his ass in those jeans, thinking about how you very much will be making it worth his while. You look up when he keeps grumbling to himself, a marked sign he is maybe more nervous than he is letting on. You remember his stubbornness before his eventual acquiescence, the way he hid his face at his most vulnerable moments.

You might be in the habit of ducking out the door, but he deflects just as much with his wit.

You hurry your pace, catching up to him. He is still muttering to himself, head down, a soft layer of snow dusting his jacket and hood. It must be all over your head but you hardly feel the cold. Your mind is on warmth, that stupid heart of yours suddenly flooded with it.

You want this to be good for him, even if he would never outright ask for you to be kind. It is all the more reason to make sure you are. You really were such an idiot.

Your grip is firm but not rough, hand curling protectively over his shoulder. This touch invites more than demands.

He stops in place, looking at you with a wary glare. It disappears when you swoop in. His hood falls as you tug him close. He goes without protest, lips parting under yours with a claiming so heated that the cold does not stand a chance against you.

You try to keep it romantic, a rare act of restraint on your part, but the supposed good boy drags the zipper of your coat down, down, down, then grabs your belt and tugs. You stumble, uncharacteristically shaky, gasping against his lips when he grinds his knuckles against the zip of your jeans.

“Tsk,” he says, lips still brushing yours. “Not prepared.”

“I was planning on sitting around feeling sorry for myself,” you say, with a helpless laugh despite his teasing. You grab his wandering hand, leading it away from your crotch. You are eternally grateful your dick is the kind you can leave in your sock drawer, because resisting him right now would have been impossible otherwise.

“Trust me,” you say. “I’ll make up for it.”

“Fine,” he says. “I will. You better not let me down.” He looks at you when he says this, as close to imploring as Seungmin ever does.

You feel the weight of that trust. You nod, swallowing, looking at his lips, full and pink from the hard press of your kiss. You lean in for more when he abruptly zips your coat again, all the way up to your chin so he smacks your jaw.

“Come on then,” he says with that mean little laugh as he scampers away, grinning at you. “Are you gonna prove it or not?”

It is a short drive back to the cabin, and a torturous one to boot. Not because Seungmin touches you, but because he doesn’t, and he won’t let you touch him either. You try to put a hand on his knee but every attempt is rebuffed. All you get is that cheeky grin or a glare, then a mere flick of his wrist as he brushes you away like lint.

Somehow it is more maddening than a direct touch. You can feel him everywhere just by his proximity. He even jumps out of the car before you unbuckle your seatbelt. He is inside the cabin before you reach the door.

You are panting from the sprint up the driveway, trying to keep up, not entirely convinced he won’t play you for a sucker and run right out the back door. It would be like Seungmin to make you chase him up the mountainside. You wouldn’t blame him for making you prove yourself, considering what an ass you were.

But he is waiting inside the cabin. Everyone else is out for the night and should be gone for hours. When you close the door, sealing out the cold and the world, this cabin feels flush with more heat than you know what to do with.

You do not hesitate. The tantalizing promise of more is like a touch on its own, heightened by his stubborn refusal to give you anything easily. It makes catching him that much more satisfying, that soft sound all the sweeter when you pull him into your arms and finally steal that kiss.

His skin is cool from the weather but his mouth is warm, the kiss searing hot. He digs his blunt nails into the arms of your jacket, pressing the whole length of his hard body against yours.

You remember his unexpectedly tender places, how just a faint stroke behind his ear will have him curling into you, how looping some hair around your fingers and tugging will deepen the rumbling sound that spills past his lips.

You unzip his coat while kissing, licking into him while he scrambles to help strip. The coat hits the floor in a damp heap. You separate for just a moment, giving him the chance to tug his hoodie up and off. You toss your own jacket over the nearby couch, then hook your fingers into his belt loops and pull him close.

His hair is in an endearing state of dishevelment and he looks flushed from the rush of warmth after the chill. Just looking at him like this has you throbbing. You try to imagine telling the old you that you would feel that way, that the annoying friend-of-a-friend who mutually hated your guts would be looking at you like he wants to devour you and let you return the favour.

You can’t imagine believing it. Now it feels completely natural, letting him walk you backwards until your back hits the wall and his chest is pressed to yours, rising and falling with the quickness of his breath.

He is looking aside, contemplatively. You cup his jaw and draw him back to you, unable to resist a breathless laugh when he nips at your fingers. You do not shy away or let go, and that seems to placate him. He practically melts against you, your hand curving around the shape of his cheek, lowering to curl gently around the side of his neck.

“We should go upstairs,” you say. The stairs are right beside you, but somehow the bedroom seems too far.

Impossibly, ridiculously far, when Seungmin flicks some hair out of his eyes and looks at you intensely.

“Don’t you want me on my knees?” he asks.

Your response is not a real word, just a rough sound. He smirks, but is still flushed and a little shaky as he sinks onto his knees. He gets your belt open, tugs it free, and tosses it to the side. The sight of him licking his lips has you seeing stars before he even leans in.

You brush some of his hair back, looking down at his face as he focusses on unzipping your jeans. He has the fly down when you catch your breath and your senses.

You gather the hair at his nape in your fist and tug, firm and sharp. His mouth falls open and his breath stutters, eyes so dark and lips so wet and plush that you are tempted to drive his face right between your legs, where is obviously offering to be.

But that’s not how you want to do this, not yet. You move from his hair to his neck, wrapping your hand around his throat and watching his eyelashes flutter with surprise. There is always a breath of panic in that surprise, adrenaline fueling the flood of desire that follows. He is visibly hard, straining in those sinful jeans, breathing harder as you none-too-nicely push him down onto the stairs.

“What are you doing,” he says, though it sounds like less like a question than acceptance. Continue, waving his hand like a prince on silk sheets even though he is sprawled on his back on the staircase.

“Making it worth your while,” you say. He is not wearing a belt because these jeans are made for his body, snug and perfect and fitted everywhere, so it is just a matter of unbuttoning—

Oof.

He plants his foot on your chest like last time, pushing you back. He blinks innocently.

“Shoes first,” he says.

You smile, though it less playful than predatory, a promise in the flash of your teeth. You nonetheless obey his silly whim as you tug off one shoe than the other. It leaves a damp patch on your shirt which he remarks on. You roll your eyes but tug your shirt off, sports bra following.

The second time you push him down, you are even less nice. You gather his hands in yours and pin them above his head, holding him there when he squirms ineffectively.

“You’re kind of a brat,” you say, yanking his zipper down. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“You,” he says, panting around the word. “Jerk.”

You laugh, then cover his mouth with yours, swallowing the moan that takes him by surprise. His hips buck towards you when you reach into those jeans to take him in hand. He wriggles in your hold, arms straining while his hips lift toward you for more, following the snapping rhythm of your hand. You trace the dick piercings that caught you by surprise last time, the metal smooth under your rolling thumb.

You only release him when you duck down, tasting for yourself, relishing in the sounds that spill out of him. He claws at your bare shoulder, spreading his legs to make room for you to lay between them. His head falls back, resting on the step above while you work him in your mouth.

“I’m—I’m—” His voice gets lighter, breathier, his orgasm hitting him all at once. He throws an arm over his face instinctively, head thrown back, hips lifting. It catches you by surprise, making you choke just a bit, but he is already coming so you ride it out.

He is still twitching when he finishes, gasping behind his arm when you roll a thumb around his piercing again. When he hisses, knees jerking, you let go.

Knowing him better than you ever thought you would, you move, stretching out alongside him. You tug him into your arms and he goes without hesitation, burying his face in your neck. You snake a hand under his shirt, stroking his back affectionately.

Once more, you are genuinely endeavouring to be sweet.

Once more, he shoves his hand down your pants.

“Hello—” It is all you manage before he is touching you, finding all that wet desire and rubbing a little haphazardly. It makes you laugh and you grab his wrist, slowing him down. “Easy,” you say, showing him a better pace. “Just like that is good.”

He learns quickly. It was the same last time. Every idea you introduced, he contemplated, experimented, then excelled. With just a nudge now, he skillfully obliges. He is breathing hard against your throat, pressed so close to your whole body, his fingers finding all your secrets and working them out. You slide a hand down his backside, squeezing a handful of his ass. The sound he makes has you coming faster than usual.

He puts his hand on your thigh, then lifts his head and grins at you.

“I’m still winning,” he says.

“It’s still not a contest,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow.

“It is,” he says. “And I’m winning.”

“I see.”

You scoop him into your arms and cart him up the stairs. He situates himself by the time you reach the bedroom, legs around your waist and arms around your shoulder.

“Still winning?” you ask.

“Obviously,” he replies.

You shake your head and sigh but with no real animosity, just like his smirk is more playful than vicious. You still whole-heartedly believe he is capable of catching you off guard, so you are prepared for the brat switch to flip at the slightest provocation.

You drop him onto the bed with a gentle thump, then cross your arms and look down at him.

“Can I leave you unsupervised for two minutes while I get my dick?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he says, blinking innocently. “Can you?”

“Probably not,” you say, but retreat nonetheless. Your equipment is in your travel bag. You left it behind when you went to the bar because you were not in the mood for a hook-up, which should have been the first sign you were hopeless. You were already in waters far too deep when you tried reaching for that shitty life preserver. Learning to swim is not easy but infinitely more rewarding.

You change into packing boxers and tuck your toy into it, buttoning up the pocket. You grab some lube and a towel, then walk back to his bedroom, certain that he has somehow caused trouble in the five minutes it took to do all that.

He’d naked. Of course he is. Sitting where you left him, perched on the edge of the bed, but his clothes are folded in a pile on the dresser and he has nothing but a bedsheet pulled over his lap. He is not wearing his usual cheeky expression, though, and you are about to ask if something is wrong. Then he says, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh,” you say. “That’s fine.” It is the unthinking response, automatic as the admission is not too surprising. You live in a world where strap-ons and gender games are the norm, so sometimes you forget that most people consider it inherently kinky or an anomaly. A lot of men are new to it. Seungmin didn’t even know what was packing was when you first mentioned it.

But then he says, “Any of it.”

And you say, “Huh?”

“I’ve never done,” he says slowly, “any of this.”

“Any.”

It takes a long minute to compute. You think about his clumsy touches and experiments followed by his quick learning. Unabashed and unjudgmental regardless of what he encountered. Testing and figuring himself out just as much as you.

“Oh,” you say. Then, “Oh. Fucking shit. I’m such an asshole.”

Because that was his first time doing anything with someone, and you just walked out the door without a word the next morning.

He does not look upset about it anymore. In fact, he laughs, though he tries to hold it back. It turns into a snort he barely catches, amused eyes gazing up at you.

“Yeah,” he says. “You are. We already knew that.”

“I really, I just—”

“Can you shut up and come take my virginity before I get beatified for involuntary chastity?”

“But you’re so fucking hot,” you blurt.

It is obviously not the retort he anticipated, because he blushes profusely, which is not the response you expected.

He clears his throat and looks away, rolling his eyes to compensate for the obvious vulnerability.

“Thanks,” he says. “Stating the obvious. I’m also picky. And apparently I scare people.”

“Scare them?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow. “Who’d be scared of you?”

“Evidently not you,” he says. His tone is snarky but he looks at you, up and down, and the look is a thoughtful one. “Not ever.”

Agh. There’s that heart again, pounding away. Who knew that thing could race so fast.

“Well,” you say, finally putting the bottle and towel on the bedside table. “That is their loss. Not everyone is built for chasing luxury, I guess.”

“Luxury,” he says with another snort, grinning despite himself. “I’m high-end,” he says it like a fact, not a question.

“Naturally,” you say, approaching where he is sitting.

“I’m going to be honest,” he says, eyes wandering your body before landing on your face. “I thought you were going to be weird and egotistical about being with a virgin.”

It suddenly pings in your head that you are his first, that there is a certain responsibility that comes with that. That the wrong person could make this terrible for him. That you want to make sure it feels better than anything he could dream. These thoughts are completely and truly unselfish.

And there is one admittedly egotistical and selfish thought, of making him irrevocably yours with one really good fuck.

He glares when he sees the look on your face, his lips pursed, though a breath of a laugh escapes nonetheless.

“Wow!” he says. “You’re a pig, go away.”

“No, no, I’m not, I swear!” you say, laughing.

He laughs too but shakes his head, pushing you away when you reach for him. “No way,” he says. “You and your ego. Gross.”

“Please, I promise,” you say, getting on your knees and lacing your hands together like a praying supplicant. “I’ll be so normal,” you say. “I have no ego at all.”

“You’re the worst,” he says dryly.

“Yeah, but…” You wiggle your eyebrows at him. “You kinda like me anyway, right?”

It is a more vulnerable question than you thought it would be. It prompts him to look at you, really look at you, before he huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Unfortunately,” he says.

You giggle and he swats your head.

“Are we just going to sit here all night and look at each other?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“No, no, of course not,” you say. You get back on your feet, standing bedside so you are looming over him.

“What are we doing then?” he asks.

“Well, you know what we’re doing,” you say, laughing when he rolls his eyes and huffs again.

You reach out, cupping his face in both your hands and guiding him to look up at you. Your heartbeat hammers away not only in your chest but everywhere else, a rapid current of heat that thunders most prominently between your legs as shiny dark eyes gaze up at you amorously from such a suggestive vantage.

“First, before anything else, this.” You speak in a lower voice, watching his spine straighten as the sound. You run your thumb across his bottom lip like you did earlier, except this time it is a bruised pink from kissing. It really makes you feel like that extra weight in your boxers is coming to life, connected to you intimately, ready and wanting as you are. Especially when you tug on that bottom lip, when he leans towards your hand like he needs it, needs you.

“Now,” you say. “Now I want you on your knees.”

There is a sharp intake of breath before he nods, subtly, then shifts. The sheets falls away from his lap, revealing he is already half-hard again. There are goosebumps along his skin, from his nudity and the chill or just anticipation.

Last time, he needed almost no direction. He followed his own instinct, logically deducing that the part of the toy you could feel was the part at the base, closest to your body. He uses his usual deductions when unbuttoning your boxers, taking a second to first press the base of the toy against you before leaning back and opening his mouth.

It is not easy to come like this, but you are so worked up that it might happen. It does not matter if you do. It is not always about chasing the perfect orgasm. This time, it is touch and sensuality. He lets you teach him, rather than stampeding like last time. You wonder if his heart is pounding given how red the tips of his ears are, blood rushing everywhere in a hurry. You hold his face and slide back and forth, taking your time getting wet, both yourself and the toy, pushing him a little further each time.

When his mouth is full and he blinks slowly, contently, every bratty remark and combative tone far from his mind, you smile and tug his hair. He moans and you push a little more, gliding back and forward again.

“You’re a fast learner,” you say. “Bet you could get used to this.”

It is a testing tease, to great success if the returned moan is anything to go by. He squeezes his eyes shut and starts touching himself, finally moving his head instead of letting you guide him. Before he gets too lost in the rhythm, you ease him back. You smile and rub your thumb across his shiny lips as he blinks up at you.

“Come here,” you say, and kiss him.

He falls into the kiss, arms wrapping around you as you lay down with him. He is eager in the searching heat of the kiss, long and deep and hungry. You get on your back and pull him on top of you, give him one more drawn-out kiss with a filthy wet lick into his mouth, then smile.

“Turn around,” you say. “Keep going.”

It takes him a second to work out what you mean, but he really is a fast learner. Soon he is laying on top of you, face where it was before, mouth wrapping around the end of your dick and his fingers searching beneath it to stroke you directly.

You snatch the lube off the table and wet your fingers then him, taking it slow and easy, using your mouth and spit then more lube until everything is slippery and he gives in so easily into you. He is breathing hard down between your legs, resting his cheek on your thigh and no longer using his mouth on you. His eyes are closed and his hips are rocking, focussed on the sensations that you are certain are overwhelming him.

You move him around, at which point he comes to attention, looking back at you. This is the quietest he has ever been, all the action in his heart as you expected; you can feel it racing when you touch his chest.

You lay him down in front of you, sidling up behind him. You lay a hand on the wildly fluttering race of his pulse, throat cupped in your palm. You turn his face to kiss him, your wet hand stroking your wet dick. You probably should have thrown that towel down before getting started. The sheets are a mess already.

“Ugh, hurry up,” he says, reaching back to smack your thigh. “You’re the worst. I hate you.”

You laugh. Oh well. No time to worry about bedsheets. You give his throat a gentle squeeze and smile at the noise he makes, strained and needy, his hips rearing back into you.

“What?” you ask, sliding the toy down his backside. “You want something?”

“I will bury you in the mountain pass,” he says. “They’ll think it was a skiing accident. And that you got mauled by a bear. And eaten by wolves. And—”

To be honest, having him distracted and rambling is for the best. It means he is more relaxed, not so focussed when you finally start pushing in. Of course, he feels it pretty fast, and instinctively rebels. You stop clutching his throat and hold an arm across his chest instead, holding him protectively and kissing that sweet spot behind his ear. His groaning turns into a whine.

“Okay?” you ask.

“Gonna kill you,” he says.

“That a yes?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” You hook a hand under his leg and pull it up, giving yourself leverage, then fuck into him completely. His whine turns to a sharp yelp, hand scrabbling against the arm on his chest. You let him catch his breath and adjust. “Still okay?”

“It’s weird,” he says.

“Bad weird?”

“No,” he says. “It’s… it’s good. It’s just…” You move a little and his whole body clenches then loosens. He makes a strangled noise but softens in your arms, though his nails have dug a pretty picture into your skin. You are surprised he hasn’t drawn blood. “Ugh,” he says. “It’s so wet. I feel like a river rafting ride.”

“Not… what most people usually say… but okay…”

“I’m… not… most people.”

“No,” you say, kissing that spot again and finally moving your hips. “You’re not.”

You are not sure if his little sound of submission is in response to your actions or your words, but with it he seems to all at once open to you. You find a rhythm, holding his hand when his fingers search for yours on his chest. He ends up biting your arm, which you should have seen coming, but it’s fine because you leave a visible bite mark on his neck in return.

At that he gets into it, meeting the pace you set, altering it to what he wants. It is a good thing the house is empty because you are not quiet at all. If your fooling around was enough to send an aggravated Minho storming after you, then this probably would have led to him burning the cabin down.

The thought makes you snicker, which makes Seungmin ask what is so funny, so you tell him then he laughs too.

“Ugh, stop making me laugh,” he says.

“You can laugh while making love,” you say, kissing his neck. “It’s okay.”

That does not make him laugh but it does make him sigh. “Making love, huh,” he says dryly. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“It didn’t,” you say, finding another sweet spot that has his whole body rearing into yours. “I guess I’m a fast learner too.”

“Ew, you’re so annoying,” he says, but squeezes your fingers in his hand.

“I think you’re not getting fucked right if you’re still this bratty,” you say playfully, prompting him to roll his eyes.

“What are you gonna do about it? Make love at me? Sap.”

You laugh, kiss his neck, then move away to roll him onto his back. He wriggles a bit, surprised with the change and sudden emptiness. His legs part easily when you move between them, but you still snap, “Spread. Good.” Because it makes him swallow hard, his dark eyes sparkling and his mouth bruised, hair mussed and body flushed. He is already a fucked out sight, but he wants more, and you give it.

You snap your hips together and fuck into him. This time you do hold his throat, gently, not repressing air but showing control. He holds your forearm with both hands, his face scrunching up, eyes closed as he focusses in that intense way of his. He breathes hard, makes sweet sounds, and not a single antagonistic or bratty word leaves his pretty mouth.

“I think I’m finally winning,” you tease, to which he just makes a hiccupping sound of pleasure. “Yeah, that’s right.”

You hold his ridiculously pretty dick and give it the expert treatment it deserves. The combination of sensations has him throwing his head back, clawing your arm as you work him in your head. You cannot feel the end of the toy, but there is a magic in this kind of fucking, and when he comes and he clutches your arm and he screams your name, when the muscles in his abdomen clench and you know he is feeling sensation in every part of his body, you can feel him wrapped around you, wholly and completely, like you could feel him when he wasn’t even touching you at all.

He writhes almost desperately as you keep touching him until he can’t take it anymore, then you ease him down and pull back.

“Good?” you ask, sitting back, looking down at him, blissfully fucked out and dishevelled.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “I won. Again.”

“Gonna need to supply me with that rubric one of these days,” you say.

“Meh-meh-meh,” is the half-hearted retort, delving to a sleepy sigh.

“Gotta take care of yourself before you go to sleep,” you say, though you have a feeling it’s a losing battle, his eyelids already heavy.

“That’s what you’re for,” he grumbles.

That damn heart really does have a mind of its own. It has clearly decided to make its presence known whenever it damn well pleases.

You run your fingers through his messy hair, smiling when he blinks up at you.

You tidy him up then scoop him into your arms to carry him to your bed, because that one is not a filthy sex nest. He wakes a little on the journey. And when you lay down and pull a sheet up, he rolls towards you and throws an arm and a leg around you, pinning you to the bed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say. “I promise.”

“Good,” he says. “You’re too stupid to be out there on your own.”

You laugh in spite of yourself, shaking your head, but you put an arm around him and nod.

“You’re right,” you say.

“Of course I am.” He snuggles in close and sighs. “Now go the fuck to sleep. Your dick is in the sink so you have no excuse. Good night.”

“Good night,” you say with a laugh.

I think I won too, you almost say, but decide let him believe he is the only winner for now, because he is already falling asleep with his head on your shoulder.

You can tell him in the morning.

#kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x reader #kim seungmin smut #skz smut #skz x reader

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vivwritesfics · 11 months ago

Text

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Two - Living "Together"

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

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Warnings: Smut! Masturbation, both male and female!

Series Masterlist

"Where are you going?"

Lando sat in front of the television, a bowl of cereal in his lap. He'd been awake for hours already, had already spent those hours in the gym.

Y/N kept her earbuds in as she walked past him. She had on her gym shorts and top, arm strap that held her phone attached to her arm. "Why do you care?" She spat as she strode across the living room and out of the front door.

As soon as she left the room, Lando rolled his eyes. His question had been perfectly reasonable - she was the one taking it too far. But he didn't let it get to him, didn't react and got on with his day (because he knew that would rile her up more).

Y/N was out for a run for maybe an hour before she made her way back to her apartment. Where as Lando already had everything done, she shifted her day back, to try and avoid him. She stayed in her room and walked around with headphones covering her ears.

She ate dinner late, around 10pm so avoid him. Every day that either of them had to head to the McLaren technology centre they drove alone. No matter how many times Zac suggested they carpool, Y/N completely refused.

It was the most uncomfortable week of either of their lives. With their rooms right next to each other, alone time was hard.

It wasn't just Y/N feeling it. After Lando had done everything to get himself ready, pulled down his pants and gripped his cock as he opened Y/Ns Instagram, he couldn't bring himself to do anything.

Maybe it was the fact that she was in the other room, could hear everything he did to the pictures of hers.

How would she react if she heard him? Would she pound on the wall and tell him to shut up? Would she touch herself to the sounds of his moans? Would she came into his room, drop her robe and climb onto his bed?

Lando wasn't trying to be observant. He just so happened to notice that her side of the fridge didn't empty out and just filled up when her nutritionist brought her more. Lando had one explanation - she wasn't eating.

And he was right. She wasn't eating. Not because she didn't want to, but because it was easy to forget when there were more important things going on.

After their first week together there was a knock on her bedroom door. "What?" She shouted as she tapped away at her computer.

Lando pushed open the door. He took one step in, placed a bowl of whatever her nutritionist had put together for her on her desk and walked back out. All of it without saying a word.

Another week went by and they were still trying to avoid each other. If they weren't avoiding, things were hostile in the apartment.

But then Lando got to something of a breaking point. Y/N could handle it. She could avoid him for the rest of her life if she had to. But Lando couldn't go on, especially with the unveiling of the next seasons car coming up soon.

They couldn't repeat their mistakes from last year, where they tried to kill each other on stage.

Just like before, he knocked on her bedroom door with a bowl of food for her. Just like before, she shouted a 'what?' and Lando pushed his way into the room.

But he didn't put the bowl on her desk and walk out. This time, he stood in the doorway, leaned against the door frame, and held the bowl in his hands. "Can we talk?"

Finally, Y/N looked up from her computer. "What?" She said yet again and leaned back in her desk chair.

Lando let out a sigh. He'd expected this. Expected her to be hostile and uncooperative. "I've made you something to eat. It'll be on the table if you wanna talk," he said and left the room.

As if to make a point, Y/N waited. She waited for a sufficient amount of time, waited until she thought Lando would no longer be there, and left the room to eat. She really did appreciate Lando cooking for her, although she'd never say to his face.

But she was wrong. Lando was still sitting at the kitchen table, empty bowl in front of him. Y/N couldn't hide her scowl as she sat and began eating.

Lando cleared his throat. "We've got the launch of the new car coming up," he said. "And, if we try to kill each other again, I think Zac might actually kill us."

Maybe not kill, but definitely fired. Y/N knew that much. He'd replace them in the middle of the season no questions asked. That was the point they'd gotten to... fighting so much they were on their last warnings.

"I know, I know," Y/N muttered, stilling her fork. "You just need to not be such a dick."

"Me? A dick?" Laughed Lando, although it was the most sarcastic laugh Y/N had ever heard.

"Yeah, Norris. You're a dick."

Lando let out an exasperated sigh. "This is the kind of shit I'm trying to stop. Maybe if we stop avoiding each other and actually try to get along, this years car launch might not be so bad." And we won't lose our seats, but that didn't need to be said.

Reluctantly, Y/N nodded. "Fine," she said and finished eating.

Lando pretended not to notice when she began cleaning up after him. He didn't watch as she did the washing up and put things away.

Lando hadn't expected her to spend time with him right away. And she didn't. As soon as she was finished washing up, Y/N rushed back to her own bedroom and shut herself inside.

Fine, thought Lando as he walked into his own bedroom. The only thing that separated them was a thin wall.

For the next few hours they did their own thing. Lando on his xbox while Y/N was on her computor. The way she typed, fingers hitting the keys so aggressively, Lando could hear it through the walls.

He didn't quite have a clue how thin the walls were before this. He knew there was little to them, but he wasn't expecting this. If he could hear this then that meant...

That was all the motivation Lando needed. He wasn't thinking about whether neighbours in the other apartment could hear him as he pulled his cock from his sweatpants.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back as he moved his hands up and down. The breathy moans he let out were loud, exaggerated as he thought about the girl in the room next door.

He didn't dare say her name, though. That would push things too far, make things too obvious. His moans and whines were breathy as he moved his hand up and down, his grip tight.

He couldn't stop himself from imagining her under the desk with him, lips wrapped around him as she sucked him to competition. That was enough to make him spill into his hand.

And, in the room next door, Y/N could hear everything. A frown crossed over her face and she went to pound her fist against the wall, shout for him to shut up, but then she pulled back.

Landos moans and whines were... hot. Y/N hadn't expected it, to be so affected by the sounds he was making. But she couldn't help it as her hands slipped beneath her shirt, unclasping her bra.

Keeping her shirt on, she slipped the bra off. The feeling of the fabric against her nipples was enough to get them hard, and her fingers certainly helped. She touched them, swirled her fingers around them as she felt herself growing wet.

Gripping her boob, her free hand travelled down her front and into her shorts. She felt her wetness on the outside of her underwear before she pushed her fingers past the fabric.

Her fingers were cold against her folds as she pushed through them, index finger brushing against her clit.

When she gasped, her hand left her breast to cover her mouth. Unlike Lando she kept quiet as she pushed her finger into her hole. Her eyes closed as she played with herself.

She rode her fingers until she climaxed, her cry audible. But she wasn't thinking about that as she climbed into her bed, satisfied and sleepy.

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