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wonderlandwalker · 24 days ago

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Hell hath no fury like a Buckley | Steve Harrington x reader

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 / 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 / 𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐈

summary: there's exactly two thoughts left in Steve's brain: you, and the fact that he's about to majorly violate the bro code

word count: 6.2k

tags / content warnings: the usual I guess, hopeless pining, smut, mostly those, seems the only writing style I have is 'falls desperately deeply in love at first sight' and I'm not in the mood to psychoanalyse it so here's more of that

a/n: was gonna work on this more but I had to commemorate Pope Francis' morbidly entertaining demise somehow x

Steve Harrington was many things—

Former King of Hawkins High (retired, thank you very much). Babysitter extraordinaire (unofficial title, of course, but the kids would back him up). And, according to Robin Buckley—his best friend, partner-in-crime, and personal tormentor—a ‘walking disaster with good hair’.

But right now?

Right now, he was fucking mortified.

Okay.

Wait—

Let’s rewind.

Five minutes ago, life had been simple: Steve had been doing his best impression of a responsible lifeguard, which mostly meant leaning against the chair with his sunglasses perched low, pretending he wasn’t counting the minutes until his shift ended and he could stop caring about pH levels. The Hawkins community pool was the same as ever— the sharp tang of sunscreen and chlorine in the air, kids cannonballing into the deep end, and Debbie — the one lifeguard who actually gave a shit about the rules— blowing her whistle at some poor kid for running. Steve?

Steve was here for two reasons. One: free access to the pool after hours — unofficial, of course—courtesy of Keith’s lack of managerial oversight. And two: A pay cheque that barely covers gas money but is still better than listening to his dad rant on to him about ‘loafing around all summer like a goddamn bum.’

And then—

Then he saw you.

Which, okay, is not that unusual— people come to the pool all the time. And it wasn’t that you stood out, not really. No, you were just— there. In a swimsuit like half the other girls, a loose cover-up tied around your hips, but fuck— As you stepped into the sunlight, it was like the universe had hit pause. You moved like a struck match in a room full of shadows—vivid, flickering, impossible to look away from. Everybody else blurred at the edges, cardboard cut-outs in your wake, but you? You burnt.

And Steve—God, Steve was already half in love with the way the light would destroy him. He knew the story. Knew how it ended. Orpheus wasn’t supposed to turn around. But you smiled at him, and suddenly he understood: some temptations aren’t meant to be resisted. They’re meant to unravel you, thread by thread, until you’re grateful for the ruin.

Oh, shit.

You were walking straight toward him.

Fuck.

Think, Harrington, think.

You looked familiar. Hawkins isn’t exactly a metropolis—if you’d gone to school here, he’d know you. Had you been at the summer fun fair? Sat behind him in chem sophomore year? Christ, this was bad. Steve—King Steve, who used to have the entire school catalogued in his peripheral vision—couldn’t even scrape together a fucking name. Maybe you were—

Your eyes met his—sharp enough to flay him open—and your smirk said you knew��exactly how hard his brain was liquidating.

Double fuck.

You were smiling at him—Christ—that stagnant, astute curve of lips that already felt branded behind his eyelids, and he was staring. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Some distant, rational part of his intellect screamed at him: say something cool. Say something cool.

Instead, all he could track was the way you tilted your head—that loose strand of hair escaping, catching sunlight like spun gold as it tumbled free. His fingers spasmed at his side with the sudden, visceral urge to reach out—to brush it back behind your ear with a touch too tender for whatever this was. The realisation made him feel violently stupid, like some second-rate rom-com hero about to monologue his feelings in the rain.

"Hey," you said, and your voice wrapped around him like smoke. Steve's pulse stuttered. "Have you seen Robin by any chance?"

The whiplash of it—the casual destruction of that moment—left his cerebrum sputtering like a dying engine.

Robin?

Why the hell were you asking about Robin?

Robin doesn’t have friends he didn’t know about. He is her best friend, which means he knows all her people—the band geeks, the weirdos from the record store, and even that one girl who could recite The Hobbit in Elvish. He’d met them all.

And yet, here you were, asking for her like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you had the right to know her schedule. Like you—

His mouth moved faster than his brain. "She left to grab beers, like...five minutes ago."

"Figures," you hummed, rolling your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched—that tell-tale sign of years weathering Robin's particular brand of chaos. "She swore she'd meet me here, but I guess we're operating on Buckley Standard Time again."

Steve's thoughts screeched to a halt.

Buckley Standard Time.

That was—

No. That couldn't be right. Because that was his bit. Well, technically it was their bit — his and Robin’s— the joke he'd made after she'd shown up forty minutes late to their shift because she'd "gotten into a debate about whether hot dogs were sandwiches with some guy at the record store."

He'd thought that was theirs. Just theirs.

But you knew it.

Which meant—

Oh shit.

Oh, no.

His stomach dropped like he’d just crested the first hill of a rollercoaster—that awful, weightless second before the plunge. Because there were only two kinds of people who knew Buckley Standard Time: him, and someone who’d known Robin longer than he had. And unless you were some kind of psychic super-stalker (which, given the way his heart was currently trying to break through his ribs, he might’ve honestly preferred), that left only one earth-shattering possibility.

His eyes flicked over your face again, searching for it—the resemblance. The same sharp wit tucked into the corner of your smile. The identical nose scrunch when you laughed. Christ, how had he missed it? He’d been too busy being dazzled, too busy cataloguing the way sunlight caught in your eyes, to notice the nuclear bomb of a truth staring him in the face.

“Y-you’re—” Steve cleared his throat, trying to wrestle his voice into something resembling casual indifference. It came out closer to a pubescent seagull. “You’re Robin’s…?”

“Twin.Yeah.” Your grin widened, head tilting in a way that should’ve had a government warning: Caution: May cause permanent heart palpitations.

Holy.

Shit.

He’d heard about you, of course—the mythical other half of Robin’s childhood stories, the shadow in the Polaroids stuffed in her wallet. He’d even known you were coming to town for the summer. But in his mind, he’d just pictured… Robin 2.0. Same chaos, different zip code. But meeting you in person was a different kind of disaster.

Not only were you Robin’s sister—fully, irrevocably off-limits by the Bro Code in every conceivable universe—but he’d just spent the past two minutes mentally drafting embarrassingly bad poetry about how your eyes reminded him of...something poetic (he hadn't gotten that far).

And Robin?

Robin was going to murder him.

Slowly. Painfully. With that special look of disappointment she reserved exclusively for when he was being “particularly Harrington-ish”.

"Oh," he said, brilliantly. "Cool. That's—cool." The words hung in the air like particularly unimpressive confetti. You raised one eyebrow, clearly savouring the spectacle of smooth talking. Steve Harrington reduced to a floundering mess. "You okay there?"

"Yep. Great. Never better." His grip on the lifeguard chair tightened until the plastic creaked ominously. "Just, uh—didn't know Robin had a sister." Stupid. Stupidstupidstupid—

The moment the words left his mouth, your face twitched—part amusement, part genuine bewilderment. “Really?” For a second he wondered if he should just fucking bolt, but then your smile returned, and he forgot how his lungs worked. "I've been away at college," you explained, shifting your weight just enough to make the hem of your cover-up ride up, and Steve suddenly developed an intense fascination with the chlorine dispenser behind you, his ears burning crimson. "But I'm back for the summer, and Robin promised me pool privileges." You leaned in, dropping your voice to a conspiratorial whisper that sent shivers down his spine. "Apparently, you're the guy to sweet-talk for after-hours access."

Sweet-talk.

You wanted to sweet-talk him.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

His mouth opened, ready to blurt something catastrophically eager like, "You don't even need to sweet-talk me; I'd drain the pool and refill it with champagne if you asked," when—

"There you are!"

Robin materialised like some kind of vengeful angel, arms loaded with a six-pack and a half-eaten bag of chips. "I see you two already met." Her expression cycled from relief at spotting you to instant suspicion as her gaze darted between your amused smile and Steve's deer-in-headlights-meets-fish-out-of-water-meets-man-who-just-remembered-he-left-the-stove-on panic. "Why does Steve look like he's about to pass out?" She asked flatly, already exhausted. "Earth to Harrington. You good?" Robin waved a hand in front of his glazed-over eyes, then shot you a look. "This guy's supposed to save lives? Yeah, right."

Which brings us back to fucking mortified.

Robin doesn’t even wait for you to reach the car, having commandeered you on an urgent towel retrieval mission she absolutely (and suspiciously) couldn’t handle herself. One second Steve's watching you go, the next he's being manhandled behind the snack bar like a misbehaving golden retriever, Robin's fingers digging into his bicep like she’s trying to jump-start his malfunctioning brain through sheer force. "What the fuck is up with you?" She hisses, voice low enough that it bypasses his eardrums and vibrates directly in his panic centre. Her free hand gestures wildly toward the parking lot. "Why are you acting so weird?”

Steve opens his mouth. Closes it. His throat makes a noise like a dial-up modem trying to connect. "I wasn't—" Robin's eyes narrow into lethal slits. "You were." She releases his arm only to jab a finger against his sternum hard enough to leave a bruise. "The moment she walked in, you short-circuited so hard I could smell burning wiring. You called the pool ladder ‘ma’am’. Twice."

Steve’s pulse kicks into overdrive. “What? I was just—being nice.” He gestures vaguely at the pool, as if that explains anything. “I’m a nice guy, Robin. It’s a thing I do.” She scoffs, nostrils flaring. “Harrington, I’ve seen your ‘nice’. This wasn’t ‘nice’. This was—” She makes a frantic explosion motion with her hands, complete with a “pshooo!” sound effect. “—full-system meltdown ‘nice’. You were sweating.”

“It’s July,” he protests weakly.

“You never sweat.”

“I always sweat!”

“You once fought a demodog in a leather jacket and came out dewy at most.”

Steve opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “That’s— that’s not—” But before he can dig his grave any deeper, you reappear, sauntering over with a smirk that spells nothing but trouble. “Everything alright over here?” Robin’s grip on his arm tightens like a warning. “Great!” she chirps, voice suddenly three octaves too high. “Steve was just telling me how thrilled he is to have another Buckley around.”

Steve’s smile is less charming Harrington grin and more man awaiting execution. “Thrilled”, he croaks. “Yep. So. So thrilled.” Your grin widens at his words—slow, studious, dangerous. "Yeah?" You step closer, and Steve's heart launches into an Olympic-grade gymnastics routine—triple backflip, perfect landing, gold medal in catastrophic panic. "Because I was just thinking..." Your finger taps a thoughtful rhythm against your chin. "...about all that quality time we'll be sharing. Robin says you throw legendary parties."

Steve’s brain flatlines. Parties. Together. You. Him. Oh God.

Across from him, Robin’s gaze darts between the two of you, her expression morphing from suspicion to outright dread.

Steve's Adam's apple bobs like it's trying to flee his throat. She knows. Christ, she definitely knows. He has just enough coherent thought left to realise:

He is so spectacularly, catastrophically, irrevocably fucked.

He spends the rest of the week trying to avoid you. Trying being the key word here. The universe, it seems, has other plans.

Because you're everywhere—a constant, maddening presence burning at the edges of his vision like the ghost of a flashlight in the dark. He swears you're doing it on purpose, catching his eye just to watch him fumble, that sly smile playing at the corners of your lips every time his pulse stutters under your gaze. And God, does it stutter.

You’re at the impromptu movie night Nancy throws, wedged between Robin and Eddie on the couch, laughing as you recall some childhood disaster involving a stolen bike, a jar of peanut butter, and—if Robin’s dramatic interruptions are to be believed—a "very pissed-off raccoon with a personal vendetta."

"Way more traumatic than this," you declare, gesturing at the slasher flick on the screen where some poor extra is meeting their gory demise. Steve—who’s stranded in the armchair like some sombre, forgotten puppy—can’t manage to join in. Not when your laughter does things to his pulse that’s sure to send him into cardiac arrest any day now.

But then your knee brushes against Eddie’s as you lean forward to grab a handful of popcorn, and something hot and irrational coils in Steve’s gut. It’s stupid—Eddie’s just a friend, and it’s not like he has any claim over you—but the way your fingers linger near Eddie’s wrist for half a second too long makes Steve’s jaw clench.

Then there's the Hawkins High tailgate, where the lukewarm beer and golden-hour sunlight are the real stars of the show – not the Tigers' tragic losing streak. Steve leans against his BMW, nursing a drink and trying to convince himself that he’s here for school spirit— he’s lying. He’s so fucking obvious about it that Robin’s been giving him that look all afternoon—the one that says, ”I will skin you alive if you make this weird.”

And like his personal reckoning—you appear. One second, he’s staring blankly ahead, and the next, you’re sliding onto the hood of his car like you own it, all long legs and lazy smiles. The dying sun paints your skin in hues of amber and gold, catching on the delicate bend of your collarbone and the smooth plane of your thighs where your cut-off shorts ride up.

Christ.

He wants to map every inch of you with his mouth, starting at the delicate dip of your ankle—that vulnerable hollow where his lips could linger—then leisurely, torturously working his way up. Up the taut line of your calf, tracing the sensitive bend of your knee with his tongue. Higher still, along the trembling skin of your inner thigh, where his teeth might graze just to feel you shiver. An unhurried pilgrimage of worship, every gasp and hitch of your breath another sacred waypoint in his journey.

”Dude, you’re, like, actually drooling.” Dustin’s voice cuts through his increasingly inappropriate thoughts. Steve chokes on his drink, beer burning his sinuses as he wheezes, ”What? No, I’m not—!” But Dustin just raises his eyebrows, impervious. ”Uh-huh. Sure.” And then Robin’s there. ”So!” she chirps, stealing Steve’s beer right out of his hand. ”Who’s ready to watch our team get slaughtered?” You hum softly in your throat – a vibration Steve feels more than hears – as you tilt your head toward him. The calculated brush of your knee against his thigh burns through the denim between you, lingering just a second too long to be accidental. His breath catches when you don't pull away, your leg warm and insistent against his.

He’s so screwed.

Even as the midday sun is brutal at the Hawkins pool, he barely feels it—not when you’re walking toward his lifeguard chair with that look in your eyes —the mischievous Buckley spark.

You hold up the sunscreen bottle , tilting your head with a smile of practiced innocence. "Can you help me?" Before he can answer, you're already turning—presenting your back to him where the strings of your bikini top form a delicate, infuriating knot. "I can't reach," you add, voice dripping with false helplessness.

Steve's soul nearly leaves him: "I— You—Robin can—" "Robin's allergic to coconut oil," you lie effortlessly, glancing over your shoulder. The sunlight catches the curve of your shoulder blade, the flutter of your lashes. His mouth goes desert-dry. "And you are the lifeguard." You let the implication hang between you like the summer heat. "Isn't it your job to protect me?"

Fuck.

His hands tremble as he squeezes sunscreen onto his palms, the lotion warm from the sun. When his fingers finally make contact with your skin, you hum—soft, satisfied—and he swears you lean into his touch, just slightly. The sound goes straight to his gut, hot and insistent. His thumbs press into the dip of your spine, dragging sluggish circles that have no business being that deliberate. “You missed a spot,” you murmur, shifting just enough that his fingers brush the edge of your bikini tie. Steve’s breath comes ragged. This is torture.

And now? Now the bass from Tina’s stereo thrums through the floor, rattling Steve’s bones like a second heartbeat. The air is thick with sweat and cheap beer, the kind of chaos he usually lives for—except tonight, his entire world has narrowed down to you.

All evening, he’s been trapped in a loop of stolen glances and half-formed hopes, wondering if the way your eyes linger on him means something or if he’s just another fool drunk on wishful thinking. Is this real? Is this worth it? The questions gnaw at him, unanswered, even as he drains the last of his beer and sets the bottle down with a clink. And then, as if summoned by his desperation, you’re there. Emerging beside him like smoke, you lean into the wall, your shoulder pressing against his, and suddenly—the music, the crowd, the entire fucking room might as well not exist.

"Trying to hide from me, Harrington?" You taunt, tipping your drink to your lips. The bottle’s rim glistens under the dim light, and your mouth—pink, slow, meticulous—lingers there for a beat too long. It’s a calculated assault on what little composure he has left. His throat goes dry.

“Would it work if I were?” He shoots back, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. His voice is rougher than he intended, betraying the way his pulse jumps under his skin. You laugh, low and keen, before stepping into his space. Your palm lands on his chest, searing through the fabric of his shirt. “Probably not.” You admit, fingers crooking slightly—testing, teasing—and he knows you can feel the frantic hammering of his heart beneath your touch.

“You know,” you murmur, leaning in until your breath ghosts his jaw, “Robin talks about you all the time.”

His breath hitches.

This is dangerous.

Your knee brushes his thigh, prudent and—holy shit—his thoughts dissolve into static. “But she never mentioned how cute you are when you’re flustered.” The words curl into his ear, sweet and lethal. He should say something clever, something smooth, but all he can manage is a shaky exhale as your fingers trail up to his collarbone, tracing the edge of his shirt. You’re close enough now that he can smell the jasmine of your perfume and the faint tang of gin on your tongue. Your hips tilting, just a fraction, and— “I wonder”, you whisper, lips grazing the shell of his ear, “what else I don’t know yet.”

Before he can respond—before he can even breathe—you’re leaning in, your nose almost brushing his. His hand lifts—to pull you closer? To push you away? —when—

"Oh my God."

Robin’s voice shatters the moment as she stands there, arms crossed, looking done. “I leave you two alone for five minutes—”

Steve jerks back like he’s been burnt. "Robin! Hey! We were just—"

"—about to make my life a living hell?"

Steve’s mouth snaps shut, his fingers flexing at his sides like he’s still debating whether to reach for you again, and his gaze flickers to your lips — just for a moment— before he forces a laugh, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. The gesture does nothing to hide the flush creeping up his throat. “Come on,” he deflects, “We were just talking.”

Robin raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Uh-huh. And 'talking' now involves you two looking like you’re about to re-enact Dirty Dancing in the middle of the living room?" Steve can feel your pulse kick where your thigh brushes against his, but you don’t back down. You’re clearly used to these sparring matches with Robin, a rhythm he doesn’t yet know the steps to, and he’s equal parts terrified and intrigued.

"Maybe you should’ve knocked," you shoot back, grinning wider when Robin’s jaw drops and Steve’s composure nosedives like a bird that just noticed the window isn’t open.

"Nope.��No. Absolutely not." Robin jabs a finger between the two of you like she’s warding off evil. "I refuse to be the third wheel in whatever… this is." She spins toward the kitchen with enough dramatic flair to create wind resistance. "I'm getting another drink," she announces over her shoulder. "Or seven. Alone. Like the abandoned best friend in every fucking rom-com."

Steve takes a half-step forward. "Rob—"

"Save it, Dingus." She pauses, levelling you both with a glare that’s equal parts warning and surrender. "Ground rules," she announces, holding up a finger. "You—" The finger jabs at Steve's chest. “If you hurt my sister, I’ll give you a live demonstration of why The Texas Chainsaw Massacre wasn’t rated PG. Spoiler: It’s the bone saws.” Her finger swings to you, and Steve can practically hear your heartbeat kick into overdrive against his side. "And you—if you give him another existential crisis, I'm telling Mom you're the one who broke Grandma's urn and that you're the reason we had to get the couch steam-cleaned in '82."

Then she’s gone, swallowed by the noise of the party.

The silence between you is thick, charged. Steve exhales, slow and shaky, before turning back to you. The air crackles—Robin’s interruption only fanned the flames, and now it licks at his skin, relentless. His voice comes out rough, just this side of breaking: "She’s never gonna let me live this down." You bite your lip, stepping closer. The scent of your perfume coils around him, dizzying. "Then we might as well give her something real to complain about," you murmur, lips grazing the shell of his ear. His breath stutters when your fingers skate up his throat, nails scraping just barely over his stubble. A whimper claws its way out of him, raw and unbidden. "Christ. You’re killin’ me here." You grin, all teeth. "Good." Your thumb brushes the frantic pulse under his jaw. "We’ve got about twelve minutes until she storms back. Better make ‘em count."

This time, when you lean in, there’s no one to stop you, just the muffled clink of Robin angrily rearranging liquor bottles in the kitchen. Steve finally—fucking finally—learns what you taste like (gin and mint and something addicting), how your lips feel against his (softer than he imagined, but demanding, hungry), and how the dip of your waist fits under his palms like it was made for him. And Christ—the sound you make when he pulls you flush against him, a moan clawing its way up your throat, is enough to unravel him completely.

His brain, stuck on a loading screen for days, finally processes one coherent thought:

Fuck it.

Steve's hand fists in your hair, dragging you closer—Christ, not close enough—until your shared breath turns jagged. Just as he tilts his head to finally taste you properly, you pull back. His stomach plummets like a failed carnival ride. For one gut-twisting second, he's certain he's ruined it—misread the way your body arched against his, all heat and hunger, like you wanted to melt into his skin. Then your fingers lock around his wrist, nails biting just shy of pain, and the look you give him isn't hesitation—it's wildfire. "C'mere," you murmur, already walking down the hallway, tugging him along. Steve doesn't think; his body moves before his mind catches up, pulled by the magnetism of your touch.

The party dissolves into white noise—drowned out by the hammering rhythm of his pulse. Every passive draw of your thumb against his skin is a brand-new dare, burning straight through to his sternum. The hallway diminishes around you, lit only by a sputtering bulb that throws strobe-light shadows across your face. He doesn't miss the way your teeth sink into your lower lip as you glance at the bathroom door—or how your grip tightens like you're fighting the urge to sprint the last few steps.

Then you're shoving him inside, all impatient hands and shared momentum. The door clicks shut behind you with finality, sealing you both in the dark. Somewhere outside, a cheer goes up—maybe for the keg stand, maybe for the universe laughing at how thoroughly Steve Harrington is about to lose his goddamn mind.

The space is cramped, the air thick with the odour of soap and the lingering sweetness of someone’s perfume. The sink digs into his lower back, cold enough to make him hiss—but then your hands are on him, warm and demanding, and he forgets everything else. Forgets the way your thighs had tensed when he licked the salt off his hand before taking a shot. Forgets the way you’d watched his throat bob as he laughed at one of Robin’s jokes. Forgets the way you’d nearly choked on your own tongue when he’d rolled up his sleeves in the kitchen, forearms flexing as he scooped ice into a cup. The party’s bass thrums through the walls, a distant echo beneath the serrated sound of his own breathing and the slick noise of your mouth on his skin. Christ, he hopes the music’s loud enough to drown out the way you whimper when he sucks at your pulse point.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” you admit, voice low, and the crude honesty in it makes his throat go dry. Your fingers dig into his hips, pulling him closer. “All week”, you correct, and suddenly he’s replaying every glance, every brush of contact: the way you’d “tripped” into his side at the pool, how you’d lingered in his space after movie night, your knee pressed to his thigh for a full thirty minutes before Robin kicked you both off her couch. The memory of your breath on his neck when you’d leaned over his shoulder to steal a fry at the diner—had you always smelt this good?

Steve’s hands trail up your waist, thumbs carving possessive lines into that sliver of exposed skin where your shirt’s ridden up. “Yeah?” he rasps, voice wrecked—drunk on the way your breath hitches, on the way your ribs expand under his palms like you’re already starving for it. “Funny. I thought I was the one losing my damn mind.” You hum—a quiet, perceptive sound—before inching your lips along the column of his throat. He feels the vibration of it like a live wire down his spine, sparking at every vertebra. “Show me,” you murmur against his pulse, and the challenge in it sends his blood south so fast he gets lightheaded. It’s all the permission he needs.

One hand fists in your hair, wrenching your head back as he crashes into you. This kiss isn’t like before—no teasing, no hesitation—just heat and teeth and the slick, filthy slide of your tongue against his. He swallows your whimper when his other hand slips under your shirt, palm skimming the bare dip of your waist. Christ. The whimper you let out when his fingers dig into your hip isn’t just sound. It’s a bloody revelation.

Steve knows he’s on borrowed time. Robin’s sharp and observant—she’ll come looking sooner rather than later, and when she does, she’ll take one look at his flushed face and your swollen lips and know. The thought should sober him up, but right now? He doesn’t give a shit. All that matters is the way your nails bite into his shoulders, the way you gasp when he nips your lower lip, and the way your body fits against his like you were carved from the same damn stone. And when you roll your hips against his—slow, deliberate, maddening—his grip tightens, fingers digging into your waist hard enough to bruise. His voice is rough, wrecked, barely recognisable when he growls against your mouth: "This isn't exactly how I pictured our first time."

The words tear from Steve's throat, rough and wrecked—a confession to his sinful thoughts. The second they hit air, he freezes. Shit.

But you—Christ, you—just beam like you've won the lottery, dragging your teeth over his swollen bottom lip in a way that makes his knees threaten to buckle. "You pictured our first time?" Your voice drips with delight, thumb brushing the frantic pulse in his neck. Heat floods his cheeks, but you don't let him recover. You crash into him, kissing him so hard his back slams against the tiled wall. His hands move on pure instinct—lifting you onto the sink with a grunt, fingers skating up the soft underside of your thighs like he's memorising the map of you. When they dig in, kneading with a hunger that surprises even him, you moan directly into his mouth, and the sound goes straight to his dick.

You moan, and the sound tears something primal from his chest—a growl that rumbles against your lips, vibrating through you. "How about we save your ideal first time for later?" You murmur against him, biting his lip just hard enough to make him jerk against you. Your voice drops to a whisper, all heat and promise: "And focus on fucking my brains out in the next ten minutes?"

Steve's resolve doesn't just shatter—it disintegrates. Any pretence of patience evaporates as his hands find your waist, fingers pressing bruises into your hips that you'll savour tomorrow. His mouth crashes into yours again, but this time he's a man on a mission. He charts your skin like territory to be conquered—the sharp line of your jaw, the salt-slick column of your throat, the frantic flutter of your pulse beneath his tongue. When he reaches the swell of your cleavage, you arch into him with a gasp that turns into a whine as his teeth scrape delicate skin. Your fingers are already working at his belt, tugging with impatient urgency.

"Steve—"

"Fuck," he rasps, pulling back just enough to watch your face. "You sound even better than I imagined." And Christ, he has imagined this—in the shower, trying to relieve the ache with his hand, in his bed with the sheets tangled around his thighs, in the fucking Family Video break room when you'd leaned too close to reach a tape. Every fantasy pales in comparison to the reality of your nails digging into his hips as he shoves his jeans down just enough to free himself. Your hand wraps around him in one smooth motion, and for one blinding second, the world narrows to the slick heat of your fingers, the way your thumb swipes over the head just to watch his abs clench.

If this is heaven, he'll sign his own damn death warrant.

But then—then—you spin him around with surprising strength, dropping to your knees on the bath mat. The cool tile bites into his palms as he braces against the sink, but all he can focus on is the way your breath ghosts over him, the way your eyes lock onto his as your tongue—

Jesus.

Fucking.

Christ.

His vision fractures at the edges, tunnelling until the universe condenses to three points: the wicked curve of your lips, the flutter of your lashes against your skin, and the sinful press of your tongue where he needs it most. For one suspended, blasphemous moment, Steve's convinced Robin actually killed him—because there's no earthly way this is real: your mouth sinking onto him like you've been starving for it, hot and wet and perfect, swallowing him down to the hilt with a vibration that travels straight to his fucking spine. The sound you make—a muffled, content hum around him as he hits the back of your throat—sends a full-body shudder through him.

Holy mother of God.

He knows better than to look. He knows he shouldn’t—but he does anyway, helpless as a marionette with its strings cut—

Big mistake.

Because now he's watching, really watching, as your lips stretch obscenely around him, as your throat works to take him deeper. Your eyes lock onto his, crinkled at the corners with vicious amusement as you take him deeper, and shit, suddenly he’s sixteen again, stumbling across his first Playboy, heart racing and palms sweating. Except now it’s your mouth, your knowing gaze scalding him hotter than July asphalt as you savour every choked noise he can’t suppress. He should say something, should at least try to form words, but all his head does is thud back again. That look alone—like you’re cataloguing his every twitch and heave—threatens to spill him into your throat right fucking now. If he doesn’t—

A burst of laughter ricochets down the hall, sudden and too close. Your fingers tighten reflexively around the base of him, nails grazing the sensitive skin there, and Steve’s entire body tenses like a bowstring drawn too tight, but his hips jerk forward before he can stop them, dragging a ragged groan from him.

“Fuck—we have to be quiet,” he rasps, but you just smirk around him, all devilish intent, dragging your tongue along his underside in a measured, filthy stripe that makes his vision blur at the edges. His legs actually cave in; he has to brace a forearm against the wall to stay upright.

It’s agony.

It’s ecstasy.

Then your eyes flutter shut, and the soft, satisfied hum you let out vibrates through him straight to his spine. His fingers fist in your hair—gentle, got to be gentle—but his hips jerk of their own accord, chasing the sinful heat of your mouth like it’s his only chance at salvation. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he chokes, voice shredded. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.” And he means it. Because if this is what you do to him in some shitty bathroom, with Robin and half the party just beyond the door—Then what happens when he gets you alone? His mind whites out, fever-bright with the images: Pinning you against the first available surface—his bed, his car, the fucking kitchen counter—anything to finally take what you’ve been tormenting him with. Peeling you out of your clothes with agonising slowness, just to hear you whine and beg for his name. His mouth on every patch of skin he’s watched you expose all summer—the dip of your collarbone, the inside of your thighs, that spot behind your ear that makes you gasp when he accidentally brushes it. The way you’d clench around him when he finally sinks in, tight and desperate after an eternity of stolen glances. The filth he’d whisper in your ear: “Knew you’d take me so fucking good.”

“Christ,” he grits out, hips stuttering as you swallow him deeper. His knuckles tensing against the sink. “You’re so fucking—”

A sharp knock at the door interrupts him.

“Hey, dipshits!” Robin’s voice slices through the haze, sharp with accusation. "You better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there."

Steve’s head thunks back against the wall. Goddamn it.

His entire body locks up, every muscle pulled taut between the mind-numbing pleasure of your mouth and the very real possibility of Robin kicking the door in. His fingers twist tighter in your hair—not to stop you, never to stop you, but because if he doesn’t anchor to something, he might genuinely combust. The bathroom light flickers overhead, casting shadows against your cheeks as you glance up at him, and—fuck—he’s never seen anything more obscene.

"Shit," he hisses, voice shredded. "Fuck, fuck—" The litany spills from him like a prayer, like a curse, like heresy. You pull off just enough to smirk up at him, lips slick and swollen, and the sight alone nearly undoes him. "We should stop," you murmur—liar, fucking liar—your breath scorching his skin. Your tongue grazes his tip as you speak, and Steve sees actual stars. He groans, low and wounded, but his thumb trails over your bottom lip anyway, smearing spit as he claims the wetness there. "Yeah. Yeah, we—" Another knock, louder this time, rattling the doorframe.

"I swear to God, Harrington," Robin’s voice cuts through the wood, "if you’re defiling my sister in there, I’m replacing your hairspray with Nair."

You pull back just enough to make him ache, and Steve’s breath hisses through his teeth—sharp, frustrated, barely holding back something far filthier. His hands twitch at your waist like he’s debating dragging you right back, but all he does is adjust himself with a rough groan, his jeans straining. When his gaze locks onto yours, it’s wildfire in the dark, pupils swallowing every last bit of reason. "This isn’t over." The words scrape out of him like a match strike, sulfur-sharp and spark-ready.

A smirk curls your lips as you stand, lips grazing the stubble along his jaw. The shudder it pulls from him is downright criminal.

"Better not be," you murmur against his skin, your tongue swiping the sting from his skin, sweet as poisoned candy. "Or I’ll finish what you started on my own—and trust me, you’ll lie awake trying and failing to picture it half as vividly as it’ll sound."

Steve’s breath catches. "Christ," he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. He’s half-hard, wholly ruined, and absolutely fucked when you step back, looking far too innocent for someone who just had their mouth on—

The door flies open under Robin’s impatient fist. Steve barely has time to yank it wider before she’s glaring up at him, arms crossed. But Steve only has one thought consuming him:

Later.

[pt. II]

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moonstruckme · 25 days ago

Note

could i please request best friend sirius x reader with no boundaries? <3

Hi anon! You didn't respond to this post, so I went ahead and used it for the Who's That Girl au, hope you still like it <3

cw: nonsexual nudity

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

The shower in your flat is finicky. There’s a very precise balance to be struck between the two faucets to ensure the water is neither glacial nor magmatic, and having only just dragged yourself out of bed, you’re nearly falling asleep as you fuss with them. By the time you step under the perfectly-warm spray, it makes you let out a blissful sigh.

You get approximately two minutes of that before it suddenly turns scalding hot.

You make a wounded yelping sound, pressing yourself against the wall. “What the hell?”

“So’rry,” comes a garbled voice from beyond the curtain.

Instinctively, your arms wrap around your chest. You’re so shocked it takes you a second to relocate your voice.

“Sirius?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing in here?”

“M jus’ bru’in my tee’,” your flatmate replies in the same unruffled tone. You translate this to I’m just brushing my teeth, which explains why it sounds like he’s currently talking through a mouthful of foam.

You stare at your audience of various shower products in bewilderment. The water hitting your knees has returned to a withstandable temperature, but you stay cowering against the far wall. It doesn’t feel like you can simply resume your shower with Sirius just on the other side of the curtain.

“Do you have to do it right now?”

“We’, I have to ge’ to ma’beh in tir’ty min’us to mee’ ma’ee, so whe’ else ‘m I s’pos to use my own ba’room?”

“What?”

This time, you hear the bathroom door open. “He said,” James explains helpfully, “that he has to meet our friend Marlene at Mackbear—that’s a coffee shop in Whitechapel—in half an hour, so he doesn’t know when else he’s supposed to get in here.”

“Oh.” You cup your slippery boobs in both hands, feeling vulnerable. “Um, thanks James.”

Sirius also makes a toothpaste-y noise of gratitude.

“Anytime.”

Tentatively, you begin shampooing your hair again. You hear Sirius spit in the sink.

“Step out of the stream,” James warns. You obey, and you hear the sink’s faucet squeak just before your water turns hot again. A few moments later it’s back to normal. “We have one of those showers that freaks out whenever someone uses the sink. Remus explained it one time—something about the flat not having pressure balancing? I don’t get it, but it’ll happen when the toilet goes too, so be careful.”

“Thanks,” you say again, hoping with all your heart that no one ever uses the toilet while you’re in the shower. Is this a guy thing, or a Brit thing? It’s your first time living with both, so it seems plausible it could be either one.

“I’m not convinced Rem actually knows what he’s talking about,” says Sirius, his voice now clear. “Fairly sure he just looked it up online and now pretends to be an expert. Hey, doll, I think I left my face wash in there last night. Pass it to me?”

“Uhh.” You look at the shelf of products. “The blue tube?”

“That’s the one.”

“Just a second.” You rinse the rest of the shampoo from your hair, grabbing the shower curtain to ensure you’re covered before reaching out with the face wash in hand. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Sirius steps away from the sink, taking it from you.

You narrow your eyes. “Is that my shirt?”

“Hm?” He glances down to the grey top he has on, just short enough on him to show a cheeky slice of abdomen. “Oh, yeah.”

You wait for an apology or a do you mind?, but Sirius only goes back to his station in front of the sink. James seems similarly unphased.

“Turning the water on again,” Sirius says, hardly giving you any warning before twisting the faucet. This time, the water hitting your bum is icy cold.

You jolt and press closer to the curtain to escape it, nearly tripping out of the shower just as Remus comes in.

“Oh.” His steps falter as his eyes catch on you, your torso held so tightly against the shower curtain it’s likely making an impression. He blinks and quickly moves his gaze away. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was…what are we all doing in here?”

“Getting ready, obviously,” Sirius says, patting his face with a towel.

“I’m waiting for the shower,” says James. “Hey, y/n, would you mind if I peed really quickly?”

You’re too appalled for politeness. “Yes.”

James seems bemused by this, but he shrugs. “Alright. I can wait.”

Remus is looking between the three of you, a notch forming between his brows. “Did you tell them they could come in?” he asks you, seeming to already have guessed at the answer.

You shake your head mutely.

He levels James with an admonishing look. “What are you two thinking? Get out of here, let’s go.”

“What?” Sirius looks affronted. “Why?”

“Because y/n is trying to shower.”

“I have to be in Whitechapel in—” Sirius glances at his phone “—twenty-five minutes. She can shower just as well while I fix my hair.”

“I don’t really need to explain this to you.” Remus temples his hands against his forehead. “You’re invading her privacy. We all are, right now.”

“But, Moony,” James looks genuinely perplexed, “there’s only one bathroom. We share all the time.”

“This is different.”

“What, because she’s a girl?” Sirius shoots him an unimpressed look. “That’s sexist. You’re discriminating against her.”

“Jar,” Remus says sternly. “Five quid.”

“What? I’m only telling the truth! Y/n” —Sirius turns to you— “don’t you feel discriminated against?”

What you feel is very, very warm. You probably could just turn the shower faucet to cold at this point and not worry about it. “By Remus?” you ask to be sure. “No.”

“Do you feel invaded?” James asks curiously.

“I mean…” You shrink. “A little?”

He looks contrite.

“Let’s go,” says Remus, waving them out. James goes first, Sirius following more slowly seemingly just for spite. “Sorry,” Remus mumbles, looking everywhere but at you as he shuts the bathroom door.

Even when they’re out in the hallway, you can still hear Sirius’ grumbling. “If she’s not being discriminated against, I certainly am. I pay rent for that bathroom!”

“That’s ten quid in the wanker jar. Now.”

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tsukii0002 · 1 year ago

Text

I have the headcanon that the brothers can feel when Mc feels the sin they represent, Satan when he feels anger, Beel when he feels gluttony…, but that the other way around also happens. When one of the brothers is being “dominated” by his sin, Mc is able to feel that feeling as their own even though it is not. I mean, Mc is calmly doing their business and suddenly BUM, they feel a very marked envy out of nowhere. And it's like:

Mc: *feels a very strong envy out of nowhere*

Mc: What the hell happened to Levi now?

Mc: *quietly in their room when they starts to feel a familiar sensation* How strange…

Mc: *realizing that it's greed what they are feeling* Wait…

Mc: *getting up suddenly and running out* MaaMmoOoon!!! whatever it is don't even think about it!!!!

Mc: *studying* mmm What…

Mc: !!! *feeling a big lust* Asmo we have a final exam tomorrow!!!!

Mc: *with a classmate doing a project* … *suddenly feels a surge of anger and smashes their pen* …

Demon: Are you ok?!

Mc: I am, but the bastard who pissed off Satan won't be ha ha.

Demon: ????

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rafelandia · 6 months ago

Text

In the Middle of the Night (Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: smut, little bit of cum play, unprotected sex

Summary: Rafe can't sleep. Luckily, the antidote to his ailment is laying in bed right next to him.

Author's Note: I can't stop thinking about Rafe waking Y/N up in the middle of the night for sex. I am addicted to the trope of Rafe being an asshole to everyone except his girl, but this is more of a soft!Rafe moment than anything. If you enjoy, please give a like or reblog. And any requests for blurbs/one shots/etc. are always welcome in my inbox!

Before Y/N came along, there were many ways in which Rafe would conquer the restlessness that crept up on him in the middle of the night. He would go for a run on the beach with nothing but the moonlight to guide him, hunker down in his home office and crunch numbers, read a few chapters in his current favorite non-fiction. There were dozens of outlets Rafe had conditioned himself to do when he just couldn’t fall asleep despite knowing that he should. He was older now and staying up all night like he would as a teenager just wasn’t good for him in any capacity anymore.

All of these outlets, but they suddenly went out of the window when he met Y/N. She was unlike any other woman he had ever been with or even met before, but he supposed that’s how it always was when you were in love with someone. He swore he could stare at her features for forever, that she was more intoxicating than any substance or drink. But looking at her in the glimmering moonlight that shone through the cracked shades was not what put him to bed whenever that frustrating feeling of not being able to close his eyes came insidiously creeping into his head.

There was something about the way her hair was mussed about her head like a halo around her pillow, or maybe it was the way that she was sleeping on her stomach so that the swell of her breast peaked through the comforter. Either way, Rafe couldn’t help but feel his boxers growing tighter the longer he traced his eyes over the shape of her sleeping body next to his.

He slid his body over towards her, turning her and wrapping his arms around her body so that his front was flush with her backside. Warmth radiated from her sleeping form and his hands found their way to her breasts. Rafe began gently kneading them in aim to draw her from her slumber, but the most he got out of her was a shift in her bum on the mattress. A low rumble escaped from his chest at the way she unknowingly ground herself against his cock.

His next attempt was to go for her neck. Rafe always teased her for being so sensitive there but at the same time, there was nothing more that he loved than feeling her turn to putty in his hands when his lips roamed about the column of her throat. He started nipping at her skin with his plush, pink lips, just barely meeting his skin with hers. Goosebumps raised in response to his touch as his kisses grew sloppier. It was when he’d hit her sweet spot with his tongue that he heard the sound he’d been searching for. Rafe swears he’s never heard anything more heavenly in his entire life, that soft, half-moan half-groan that fell from her parted lips. It brought his neediness to the forefront.

“Baby,” Rafe grumbled against the crook of her neck, tickling her with his outgrown stubble.

Amidst her hazy state she was able to hum back at him, though it sounded once more like a broken moan.

“Need you to wake up,” he hoarsely whispered as he began working himself against her backside, slowly but surely rutting his hips into the skin of her bum to ease some of the tension that had built up in his cock.

He couldn’t see the way the corners of her lips turned up knowingly. She was no stranger to this Rafe, the Rafe that woke her in the middle of the night with an itch that he just couldn’t seem to scratch. It was almost comical to her, the way that he’d do just about everything in the book besides coming right out and telling her that he was in the mood. Sometimes, she’d tease him and pretend to be asleep longer than she actually was before turning over and giving him what he wanted, but not tonight. Unbeknownst to Rafe, he had stirred her from quite the dream, so there was no need to dance around the ledge this time.

With a sigh, she resituated herself in the bed, turning in Rafe's arms so that their faces sat mere inches from each other.

“Hi,” she sang through her sleep-ridden voice.

“Hi,” Rafe repeated back to her in the same groggy tone. "Can't sleep?" she asked, a tinge of playfulness in her voice.

He gave no response - just a lazy smirk in return. Even in the darkness, Y/N noticed a flush rising up his neck and cheeks. He'd been caught.

“Need some help?” she quirked her brow and gestured downwards to the tent in his boxers.

“Maybe,” he answered with a sleepy chuckle.

She knocked him on his back so that she was straddling his waist and sitting on his now painfully hard cock; the feathered duvet now pooled at their knees. Rafe hissed at the commotion, but the feeling soon turned to bliss when her hands snuck into the waistband of his boxers and she took his length in her fingers. It felt heavy in her grip as she smeared the silky beads of precum along his tip, coating him in preparation to make home within her tight, warm walls.

“I was dreamin’ about you,” she spoke lowly as she gently twisted her wrist around his cock, reveling in the way Rafe's brows were furrowing together in response to her touch.

“Yeah?” he jested.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, “We were kinda like how we are now. But this is much better,” she finished with a tantilizing pump of her hand.

Rafe's hips jutted into her fist, wanting more than just her teasing touches. It almost made her laugh aloud, how needy he could be in the middle of the night like this. She wanted him just as much, only due to her still-drowsy state, she was able to control it.

She leaned down and laid her body flush with Rafe's as she kissed him for the first time since he’d woke her. They tasted of the remnants of their minty toothpaste and mostly of morning breath, but that was the furthest thing from their minds. Rafe held her close to him as his tongue slipped between her lips, aching to get her going as quickly as he could. His arms slid under the ratty Kildare High School t-shirt of his that she slept in so he could lift it off of her frame, breaking the kiss for only a fraction of a second before they were intertwined again.

Once her chest was free of clothing, Rafe ran his hands along the sides of her breasts and spine, chilling her skin with his cold hands. He ducked his head down to kiss the center of her chest and then outwards to her wrap his plump lips around her erect nipples. Those velvety, smooth sighs of hers turned into the moans that Rafe adored oh-so dearly. Y/N began to feel the wetness from her core pool at the front of her panties. One of her hands cradled his neck, snugly but not tightly as she kissed him, but she was able to move the other down to grip his cock in her digits once more.

“Y/N," Rafe pleaded, his hazy, hungry eyes peering up at her. He needed her to do something, anything before he lost his whits.

She locked eyes with Rafe as she sank down slowly, splitting herself on top of him. Rafe always swore that the way the wrinkle between her brows reared itself and her lips parted just slightly when she first felt his cock first enter her was by far his favorite face of hers. Well, his second favorite, apart from the face she made when she came, he supposed. He gripped onto her hips tightly as she lowered herself fully onto him, exhaling a sigh of relief when she made it all of the way down to the base of his cock.

They soon found their rhythm, Y/n bouncing and rolling her hips against his while they chased their highs. Her early morning sensitivity caused her to melt in Rafe's arms with the way his tip was able to brush against all of the sweetest spots that made her eyes roll back into her head and a shiver run down her spine.

All that was heard in the otherwise silent room were sounds of wet skin meeting harshly each time she pushed herself back onto Rafe. Their lips chased each other in between thrusts, eager to be as close to each other as they possibly could. Sweat pooled in the dip of her back and in the grooves of Rafe's toned stomach, the two of them yearning to reach their ends.

Y/n's bouncing soon turned to lazy, barely motivated rocking as she found herself almost physically unable to continue. The tendons in her thighs were screaming for relief and the heat that surrounded her made her feel like she was trapped in a sauna. She could feel herself right there, right on the brink of getting to where she needed to be, but she was growing frustrated that she wouldn't be able to get them both there on her own.

“Rafe,” Y/N whined as she gripped both of Rafe's shoulders tightly, knuckles growing white from the hold she had on them.

He sensed her weariness, but he was waiting to see how long it would take her to beg for him to take control of the two of them.

She raised her eyes from being buried in Rafe's neck to look at him.

“Please,” she moaned.

“I've got you, baby,” he huffed, barely able to spit the words out between each manual breath.

With one fluid motion, he had her flipped over onto her back and plunged back into her soaking cunt once more. Y/N cried out at the new angle of Rafe on top of her, watching his dainty, silver chain dangle inches away from her face.

“Gonna make me cum if you keep looking at me like that," Rafe muttered into her ear as he mouthed against her neck, “You gonna cum for me first though. Right angel?”

He continued to drill his cock into her heat, each time brushing against the spongey part of her walls that made her thighs shake and reflexively want to close. Rafe caught wind of her trembling and forced her legs open with one of his strong, veiny hands, pressing it even deeper into her chest with his other arm pressed deep into the mattress to balance his body on top of hers. Their stomachs brushed against each other with every thrust, only adding to the overwhelming sensations that they were both feeling.

“Your pussy's so perfect. Like it was made for me," Rafe moaned. "Gonna fuck you like this every night for the rest of my life."

His words of encouragement took her right back to where she was before, right at the brink of breaking. Her moans went up an octave and Rafe could tell by the way she had started to clench around him that she wasn’t going to last much longer. He knew for certain that with the way that her cunt was so expertly gripping his cock that he wasn’t that far behind her.

"Need you to cum, baby. Need to feel it," Rafe was nearing his breaking point, but knew he couldn't be satisfied without feeling her clench around him first.

Unable to speak due to the way he was pounding into her, Y/N gripped Rafe's shoulders even harder than he was fucking her in response. This made Rafe cockily smile and only pushed him to fuck her more fervently and deeper. His hips would certainly leave light purple bruises on hers come morning.

Her release sprung on her quickly, her walls spasming around Rafe's thick, pulsing cock. Y/N let out a sound akin to a high-pitched whine blended perfectly with a scream - it was so beautiful to him. Her orgasm came so suddenly that it caught Rafe off guard as well; he had but mere moments before he found himself filling her up with his warm, milky seed. It was so sudden and intense that it seeped out from around his cock and onto the plush, silky sheets.

They rode it out together, Rafe pumping into her slower and sloppier than just minutes before. Y/N was becoming overwhelmed with the sensation and he was quick to pick up on it. Rafe pulled out slowly, watching Y/N wince as her now-swollen heat contracted around nothing but emptiness. He ran his fingers along her pussy, collecting her wetness and his cum on his digits before gently pressing the mixture back into her core. She hissed at the feeling of him inside of her again and it made Rafe's dick twitch. He could easily go again, but he knew that she couldn't. It was intoxicating to watch her squirm. Next time he thought to himself. He loved to drive her crazy.

They both laid there, Rafe resting his full weight on top of her while they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeats return back to their resting rate. She twiddled with the clasp of Rafe's chain while he pecked soft kisses on her sweat-slick breast with his lips.

"I love you," Y/N sighed, her eyes beginning to close as she teetered the line of consciousness.

"I love you, too," Rafe was just as exhausted as she was. Finally.

When they regained their bearings, Rafe reached across the bed for the shirt he’d pulled off of her body. With caring hands, he cleaned the two of them, tossing the soiled garment somewhere off into the floor to be dealt with in the morning.

“Thank you,” Rafe mumbled into her skin as he crawled back into the covers with her and pulled her into his arms once more.

“Anytime,” she laughed, still somewhat out of breath.

“But will you please go to sleep now? You have a presentation in the morning and you only wake me up to fuck when you can’t sleep so I’m assuming you’ve been awake this whole time,” she sounded like a parent talking to Rafe, which while he would never admit, he adored.

She felt Rafe's laugh reverberate off her chest and shake her body, to which he then promised her he’d be good and go to bed.

Rafe could go on midnight runs and read as much as he could, but nothing could put him to sleep as easily as this.

#rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #fafe smut #outer banks smut #outer banks fanfiction #rafe x reafer #rafe cameron x fem!reader #drew starkey smut #mine

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anni1309-blog · 1 year ago

Text

pairing: felix catton x reader 🎀

summary: felix is your stepbrother. what happens if you hear him moaning your name in the bathtub? no one needs to know.

warnings: smut, pseudo-incest, innocence kink, corruption kink, dom felix, sub reader, size kink, dacryphilia, slight choking, creampie, mdni!

word count: 2k

you tossed in your sheets, impossible to get comfortable. every position seemed make you ache, and you were too warm under the blankets, and too cold on top of them. your frustrated huff was the only sound in the quiet night, so you pulled ourself out of bed. the door creaked open, and you crossed the hallway, bare feet padding softly on the marble floors, on your way to felix’s room. it became a habit that you would crawl into felix’s bed and him pulling you close to caress your hair until you fell asleep in his arms.

felix was your stepbrother. you lost your parents when you were very young, and since your family was always close to the cattons, sir james brought you into their home and raised you just like one of his own. so you and felix were always really close. he was protective caring and sweet as if you were his real sister. when you two got older and went to collage, felix was very overprotective over you when it came to you talking to guys, wanting to protect your purity. people would usually think that you two were a couple, the way you would sit in felix’s lap during break or how he would fix your hair when it’s messy or kiss your cheek or temple goodbye.

but on this night when you slipped into felix’s room, you noticed that it was empty. worried as to where he had gone and a bit fussy, you went to look for him, when suddenly you saw light and steam coming from the bathroom. as you grew closer you heard your name being called a in soft but groaning tone, so you curiously advanced till you got to the gap of the door. looking through the gap you saw your stepbrother in the bathtub, eyes closed, mouth slightly agape and his hand stroking himself. you again heard him moaning your name. happily that you found him but not wanting to scare him, you slowly opened the door.

the sound of your feet made him stop his movements and his dark eyes flitted up to you as you drew closer, taking in the sight of you in your short little nightgown. you had no clue how sexy and cute you looked, even as you knuckled at your eyes with a sleepy pout on your face. his deep voice bounced off the room “couldn’t sleep, doll? come here.” so you slipped off your nightgown and joined him in the tub and he pulled you to sit down sideways on his lap. you snuggled down against his chest, with your head resting under his chin. he sighed gently, running his hand up and down your bare thigh. “can’t sleep without you, lix” you mumble softly against his warm skin. he hummed slowly and he felt his heart squeeze. felix placed soft and slow butterfly kisses on your face while stroking your face with his thumb. the he kissed your lips sensually, his large hands coming to your bum squeezing it and taking the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips as you whined.

“lix?” you murmured against his lips.

“what is it, princess?” his heart melted when he saw your glossy eyes.

"m’feeling achey” you whispered looking up at him wriggling from the feeling of lust that built between your thighs.

knowing what that meant he reached his hands down to your thighs, then slowly trailed his fingers upwards until he touched you brushing over your swollen clit, he had to resist letting out a groan “I can help you baby, do you trust me?” you made affirmative whimper sounds as you nodded quickly looking up at him again with a desperate but curious look “I love you lix, but is this okay for brother and sister to do?“

he laughed softly as he looked at you. his breath hitched in his throat and his eyes became filled with desire. your innocent and submissive persona was too much for him to resist, and he felt like he would burst “we love each other right? and no one needs to know”

he guided his fingers against to your exposed cunt, circling around it as you made needy sounds. working in the first finger making you mewl in pleasure, thrusting and curling it slowly before easing in a second one making you already feel very full. squirming and whining “too big” on top of him made him coo “shh doll, you can take it, I need to work you open for me a bit” placing a kiss on your cheek before moving his fingers more quickly in and out of you spreading them. feeling the pleasure more and more building up you tighten around his fingers, fussing when he went to pull them out “please lix, please I’m not done-“ you blabber as a few desperate tears roll down your cheeks.

trying to distract you from the emptiness he took your smaller hand into his much larger one, dragging it down to place it against his already very hard throbbing cock. "that’s not going to fit, you’re too big, lix," you mumbled, eyes wide like saucers as you keep staring at his big cock, your stomach squeezing as you thought about the tear. felix gave a confident smile into your shoulder, kissing down your chest, taking one nipple into his mouth while massaging the other one, while you arch your back towards him.

"so sweet-" he coos gripping my chin making you meet his eyes, "are you sure you want to?"

"yes." you reassure.

he reveled in your pretty moans, using his hand to stroke and line himself up with your cunt. he antagonizingly but carefully pulled you down on his cock, stretching you open.

you wince and gasp slightly when he reaches halfway, "I know it’s a lot just a little more”. he coils his fingers between yours again, to distract you.

"gotta relax baby, I got you," he strokes your hand with his thumb before bringing his other to rub your clit. the pain melted away quickly as the feeling of fullness overwhelmed your senses.

he continues to bottom out and moves deeper as you got accustomed on the new sensations, the feeling of him filling you to the brim by pure size and the gentle pleasure from circling your clit. your whimper was loud as he bottomed out, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix, you felt impossibly full from his thick and long cock. your nails softly dug into his biceps, he began to gently build up a slow yet punishingly deep pace.

“baby, you are so tight, squeezing me so well” a groan fell from his lips as he threw back his head as your warm walls hugged his cock.

his slow deep pace settled into a faster more desperate one, pounding your cunt, hoisting you up and down by your waist all intent to be gentle with you disappeared.

“such a good girl for me, so small but taking me so well” he grunts and you let out needy moans, desperate tears falling down your cheeks as you sob out his name. felix watched you with a slight smug grin feeling himself getting even harder.

"look so pretty crying for my cock, sweetheart” placing a hand around your neck squeezing ever so slightly making your head spin.

“pleas-“ you try but his pace is so fast and rough now, water is splashing out the tub and your thoughts are completely empty now.

"I think l've fucked you dumb, baby” he said in a slight condescending tone letting him do everything, use you how he wants squelching and thudding as he slams inside you.

“lix, m’feeling funny, feels like I need to pee” you say in a whine, your eyes glazed with innocence. with felix’s orgasm also already close, his thrusts slightly sloppy and mumbles encouragingly “just let go, doll, you can do it.”

you let out a high pitch moan when a sensation hits you like lightning making you shake and shiver as you clench your thighs together clinging to felix. your reaction pushes him to his climax as he pushes one last time balls deep into your tight hole, twitching and filling you with his release to the brim.

felix caresses your hair gently holding you close. “you did so good for me, my girl” he whispers and kisses your forehead. you were too exhausted to move so your eyes fluttered closed as you sank into the full feeling.

“let’s go to sleep, hm?”

#felix catton smut #felix catton x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton #felix catton fanfic #felix catton saltburn #felix catton x you #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn #jacob elordi smut #jacob elordi x reader #felix catton imagine #jacob elordi imagine

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iqxatlantic · 4 months ago

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"what the hell were we? tell me weren't just friends!"

ft. michael kaiser . asshole! kaiser . ooc! kaiser ? . fem! reader . reader going thru a bum situationship . kaiser doesnt help lol . toxic fwb situation . breeding ? . seeeex . unreliable narrator . smut . smut after the cut bware!

synopsis: being extremely pissed off with this one guy you're talking with — you complained to a close friend of yours, kaiser. pushing your luck with the relationship you two had, you asked him to come over. y'know maybe for comfort or something, right? the night for sure took a shift in direction. have you forgotten? you n kaiser had a friends with benefits complex.

wc: 1.3k

"uuugh, this guys so confusing!" you whined. kaiser listened carefully as you continued to whine on call. "does he like me or is he just tryna get pussy? what the fuuuuck!" you continued to complain.

he smirked, "seems like he's a hassle." he was shut up immediately as you yelled, "because he is one!" calming down, you asked sweetly. "mihyaa.. can you come over?" how could he say no?

you were wearing nothing but his t-shirt. kneeling in front of him, he took out his member. fuck you forget how big this guy is. the pretty rosewood tip was leaking with precum.

you pressed your lips onto his tip, placing a small kiss. licking your lips and savouring the slightly sweet and salty taste. forming your lips into an "o" you got down at it. your warm and moist mouth sucked this guy offff.

"s-scheiße..[name] ouuh, god." kaiser moaned. "your mouth feels so good.." he gripped you by the hair and forced you to swallow him a little deeper. your nose grazed slightly against his pubes. balls deep. you gagged a little. then, you bobbed your head as you kept sucking. and sucking. aaand more sucking.

his grip on your hair got tighter. he didn't even give you a chance to react as he finished in your mouth. his crazy strength kept your mouth on his cock. it hurt your knees. you also didn't want to swallow but this guy GAVE YOU NO CHOICE. you swallowed. slowly, he let go of your hair. there was an erotic pop as you gently peeled your lips off his member.

"mihya.!" you frowned. kaiser chuckled at your expression. those gorgeous lips formed into a frown as a bit of his cum was somewhat dripping from your mouth despite you swallowing. "sorry, meine liebe. not my fault your mouth feels extraordinary," he smiles. fuck. he knew how to use his words.

"i dunno why you're so upset though, [name]," the emperor smirked. he pulled you by the arm, to the position in which you're now standing. he got on his knees, (the emperor on his knees?! girl you got him over you! even if ur j fwb jesus!!) to face the level of your pussy. he traced his finger along the wet spot of your panties. a little squelch could be heard.

" 'cause she certainly not mad," he smiled in that dumbass smug way again. god you wanted to slap his stupidly attractive face. you were hit immediately with a flushed feeling. "s-shut the hell up!" you stammered. "jus' natural after i do something intimate. not that you have a toll on me or something," you muttered.

in one swift movement, he pushed you onto the bed. you laid on your back as he towered over you. your panties were slipped to the side as he slipped into you. you let out a high-pitched yelp. "y-yer so shallow, mihya..!" you moaned out. all so suddenly, this fucking guy just put it in? no foreplay no nothing? there's no way you were THAT wet.. okay to be fair he did get it in without hurting so...

as he kept thrusting, the shirt slowly rode up. the wet plapping sound of your bodies colliding was beginning to drive you crazy. "haa, calling me shallow but i'm just gettin' deeper.." kaiser groaned out. your walls were clenching onto his shaft for dear damn life.

you bit your lower lip til it bled. fuck the sensation. was crazy. "i fuckin' haaaate! you-!" you moaned out, voice going a few pitches higher as he hit that gummy spot within you. you grit your teeth as your back arched. shit. that arch was craaazy. "y-you, ooh! keep leadin' me on!" you gasped out. "ya different from those other guys or you jus' the same!?" you continued. (how do you eve have the energy to say that...?) "cause you keep fuckin' leading me into yer room. how's that my fault?" the prodigy grunted, his accent running through. you kept moaning and creaming over his dick. it was getting hard for him to not cum in you right there n then. your walls were sucking him in. he could cry. your nails began scratching and digging into his skin. "mihyaaa!" you cried as you came. the ecstasy filling your veins as he thrusted in you a few more times for you to ride your high. "how many times now?" his accent a lil' rougher than before. "forgot.." you muttered out a reply, catching your breath. you had that fucked out facial expression. seeing your expression, his once slightly limp cock was hard again. this guy is not softening up anytime soon..

prone-bone, doggy, mating press, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl. seashell, valedictorian, lotus position. everything was going on. while you were riding him, he made you do all the work. "tell me, meine liebe." he began. "confess to me, what's the worst?"

you fucking yourself dumb on his maaassive cock, you couldn't reply. the hell? he thinks you can form an answer after all that?! his annoying ahh voice chuckled, "that bad? your eyes are rollin' to the back of your head. can you formulate a single word? dumb dumb girl. why do ya think yer always gettin' played?" kaiser smirked. despite teasing or just making fun of you, there was a twinge of emotion. jealousy was it? envy..? anger..? who cared. you were getting your BRAINS fucked out man. "you're so smart... what happened now hm?" he sighed contently, switching positions as he kept thrusting. the gloss in your eyes matched the gloss on your lips.

"mihya- michael fuucking kaiser-" you were able to scream out. "finish in me plea- please..!" you sobbed. your eyes widened as he shut you the hell up with a passionate kiss.

tears were pooling. hands intertwining. ew. it was kinda gross. you couldn't breathe at all. your lips parted, giving his tongue an invitation to slide in. kaiser was actually losing his shit at this point. wild? this guy was going feral. genuinely feral.

the slight aftertaste of his semen (salty ahh) lingering in your mouth... the flavour of your mouth n his semen mixed drove him once again, insane. could there be a girl more perfect than you? nah. kaiser's ego was too big to admit that.

one more sloppy thrust and he relaxed his body. he came in you. your legs loosened around his waist as you came undone as well. kaiser stayed a little longer, not letting a single ounce of his seed drip out of you.

your soaked n warm cunt took all of that semen (oh yea girl!) he pulled out, running his hand thru his rigid ahh hair (no srsly wtf is that rattail hair oh gawd..) you were still dazed. blinking a few times you got up.

"mihya?! you're jus' gonna leave like that?!" you exclaimed as you sat up. he was already putting on his clothes. "mhm. i am, schatz." he replied.

"wait- but t-that's unfair!" you frowned. he didn't bat a single eye or did he dare to look in your direction. "what the hell are we?! please don't tell me we're just friends!" you sobbed. you were an emotional outbreak.

despite being the arrogant man he is, kaiser felt a pang of hurt. for himself and you. if he told you the truth on how he felt, he'd injure his fat ego. but if he didn't, he'd hurt you. kaiser's ego was very dear to him. it's what kept him alive to this point.

"come to my game tomorrow if you wanna see me, [name]." he sighed, buckling his pants. "you dick! not even aftercare!? fuck you kaiser!" you whined out. shit. you knew he hated being called by his last name. you were kinda annoying. did he care? na, not really he was all for it.

kaiser knew you'd come to his game either way. he just wanted to taunt you. before leaving, he uttered words you never expected to hear. "[name], y'know you're my dream girl right?"

michael kaiser damaged his ego that night. all he ever wanted to was to be able to express his affection for you. if only you knew how heavenly perfect you were in his eyes.

— ©iqxatlantic / isaisliterallyhim, 2025

a/n: can u tell i lost motivation and the plot half way lol... exams punched the hell out of me oh fawk why am i still recovering.. once again i suck at writing smut, like i suck in general but smut is not my cup of tea.. (i say as i continue writing HAHA) hopefully ygs enjoyed T_T this unironically made me so mad ? i got so lost while writing so er.. if its actually unreadable and confusing im sorry. i tried ok 😓once again, english isn't my first language n i don't have any prior experience... kaiser's so hot tho if he was my situationshup id get on my knees oh fawkkk... 0 to no proof reading btw this has been stuck in my drafts since the starf of conception! work was heavily based off of church.. and friends ig. also writing this sparked me how bad my love ife is, heavens... ya this is all yap hope ygs devoured this (isagi ref?!) im flopping omg...

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whore-ibly-hot · 24 days ago

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Just a quick little thing to tide you all over.

Thinking about...

Bill, he hates fem!reader being a part of the group, but he can't help from bringing it up when he's getting picked on at school. Bringing up he's got a hot piece of ass in the club, so how could they be dorks! There's a chick in HIS club.

"You're not a fucking member, I said that because that jock-douche wouldn't leave me alone. Even if you were, you don't know shit about what we do here." He complains. "I-I mean, honestly, do you even own a single comic, mint condition? Do you sleeve and grade them yourself? Didn't think so. You're a glorified class pet, consider yourself lucky I let you bum around here." He sneers.

His tune quickly changes when he's at the comic book shop, pushing some kids and middle aged men aside to get to a new edition of Spider-man. "Hey, kid, watch it!" One of the neckbeards scoffs, adjusting his glasses and pushing Bill's shoulder. Bill whips around, furious. "You watch it! And KID?! Listen here, you limped dick virgin, I'm younger than you, but at least I've spoken to a girl who isn't my mom in the last ten years. Take this-" He shoves the comic at him. "See if I even care, go beat your meat over the fact you got a comic, ill just go back to MY club, surrounded by MY collection, and sit with MY girl!"

After being removed from the store for yet another freak out, he slowly winds down, face a bit flushed as he considers the implications of 'his girl'.

"Hey, Bill, so... since I'm a member of the group now-"

"You're not-"

"I was hoping I could maybe come over and set up for meetings. You know, over here."

This gives him pause, but the idea of you, just you, in his house, setting up for the meeting, all alone. Not showing up for the other guys, showing up for him. Being... his.

"Fine. But be prepared to do some actual work, gotta earn your place here..." Hes pretty sure he's seen a porno start this way.

Yan!Pete, he doesn't have to prove anything to anyone, he's just gonna relish in the fact that the club isn't a sausage fest anymore. He's suddenly able to tune out Bill's screeching way more, focusing on the way you bend down to pick the figures Bill has knocked on the wall in a rage, the way your pants hug your ass. Digging under a shitty couch for a three dollar Megaman figure has never been sexier.

He'll call you. A lot. Telling you about some freaky new flick he's found, or that he's got tickets to some shitty new band playing downtown. It's best to indulge him, he'll only get clingier if you don't respond, calling the home phone line, which always gets awkward with your folks.

"Hey, how's it going, babe?" He calls over the phone. "Whatcha up to?" You respond saying your just laying on your bed, watching some TV. "Cool, cool. Listen, you want any company in that big ass bed of yours? I got some stuff from Block-Buster." He just lets out a huff as you say you can't, but you're happy to talk for a bit. As you complain about bill, it's best to ignore his his breathing grows heavier, and the unending stream of thoughts from his big mouth seem to get suspiciously quiet. Trust me, you finding out what he's doing on the other end will only turn him on more.

"So, yeah- he's just being a total dick. I mean, I don't want to have to feel like I'm 'earning my place' in a group of friends." You sigh into the phone.

"Yeah- well, that's Bill for you." Pete huffs, speaking up for the first time in several minutes. "He's a dickwad, shit..."

"I don't know. Anyways, what did you wanna talk about?"

"Wanna fuckin' cum..." he mumbles, so lowly you can barely hear, and ask him to repeat.

"What?"

Jerry, he's thrilled to have a pretty girl around, makes him feel a little more normal. However, he knows the rest of his group isn't, so while they are wrapped up in wanting you too much or fighting the urge to want you, he's wracked with insecurity you'll leave. He knows that he and the others are a shitty bunch of people, and its only a matter of time till you realize it.

He's as sweet as he can be, learning everything he can about you. What are your hobbies, your interests, what do you do when you aren't bumming around with them? Tell him, he'll get into whatever you're into. Just stay. Please. You make him feel sane when everyone is screeching.

"No, no! I totally like that kinda stuff!" He assures you, ignoring the sounds of Josh trying to explain the significance of his recently acquired magic card. "Yeah, um, I mean, I'm still getting into it, so, if you have any advice or, if you wanna teach me about it, that'd be cool!" He struggles between wanting to learn from you, as thay would be MAJOR for him to spend that much time with you, and wanting to already be perfect at whatever you're doing to impress. Wikihow becomes Jerry's best friend, as he works on trying to master you interest. Into crotchet? He hopes his hand dexterity from drawing will carry over. Baking? Ah, well, he'll try his best; even though he's not much of a cook. DnD? Oh, he's gonna cream his pants and have to rush off to the bathroom.

"So, Jerry, do you want to come over? Maybe I can teach you to get better at it."

"Y-yeah! I'd love to, uh, lemme just get my stuff from my place. Love you, bye!"

"What'd you say?" You ask, turning back from your spot on the sidewalk.

"Uh, Leave you! I'm leaving you, now! To go- to go get my stuff." The blonde stammers, rushing off.

Josh, he's a lot like Jerry in that he's afraid you'll get scared off, but he blames Bill and Pete, never hosnown awkwardness and sexism for why you might leave. He's the normal one, just him and Jerry. It's Pete perversions and Bill freakouts that are upsetting you.

He's far to awkward to try and actually talk to you to keep you around, you're a girl. He doesn't want to come on to strong like Pete, at least that's what he tells himself. In truth, he's both skeptical of your intentions in the group and desperate for those intentions to be good. In lieu of talking to you, he spends money on you under the guise of needing to educate you into what the groups about, or quote 'dorkify the babe' as Pete says.

He gives you figures, memorabilia, tapes of movies you want to see, you name it, he'll find a way to get it to you. It's going to piss off Bill, but Josh will only argue he makes donations to the clubs collective items all the time.

"Its a collectors pack, I picked it up from the store. And the book is a game guide for Jerry's next campaign. I'd recommend reading it so you can be caught up." He coughs, rubbing a free hand over his greasy ponytail.

"Thanks Josh, this is really sweet!" You chirp, happily going through the pack of cards

While he flinches at your haning of the cards, he calms himself at the sound of your sweet words. "Yeah, well- just- if you're gonna be a *real* member of our group, you need to know what we know, and I doubt Bill is gonna help you out. He'd rather gloat about what you don't know, he's always pulls that shit with us." Pausing, he glances at you. "But... you can count on me, for-for anything you don't understand. Pete just wants to get in your pants, and he doesn't know fucking anything anyways. And Jerry... he's fine, but i wouldn't say he's an expert like me in anything but wearing silly fairy costumes." He snarks.

'Please, please, please just talk to me about club stuff, ignore them, they're idiots...'

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scorpieuns · 8 months ago

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I’M YOURS | JAKE SIM

pairing: ex!jake x afab!reader, friend! sunghoon x afab!reader

summary: despite your best friend and sunghoon’s attempts to get to you move on from your ex-boyfriend, you just simply cannot get over jake—and he can’t either.

word count: 6.1k

genre: friends to undefined. exes to ambiguous. college setting.

warnings (18+): smut (absolute filth.) fluff (if you use a microscope lmfao). alcohol. mentions of breakups. (slightly) possesive jake. kissing. grinding. nipple play (f. recieving). fingering (f. recieving.). unprotected sex. slightly rough sex. doggie. slight hair pulling. multiple orgasms. both reader and jake are stubborn as hell. (let me know if there’s anything missing!)

A/N: inspired by the request posts from @rivaillescum and @teddursa — I got wayyy to carried away lol but first long fic post!

“What about him?” Aeri yells over the music, your eyes following her pointed finger towards a man leaning against the wall with his eyes glued to the phone in his hand.

“Park Wonbin from art history?” You turn to the girl with an eyebrow raised, “Park Wonbin, who’s had a girlfriend since last fall?”

Aeri's shoulders sink, “I should’ve known someone who looked like that wasn’t single.” You laugh at her bummed out expression, sipping the drink in your hands as you subtly dance to the music playing.

“Now him?” She nods towards the direction of another man, expressively dancing in the large crowd, “I cannot have a one night stand with a wannabe tiktoker Ae.”

“Why are you so difficult?” She groans, resting her head against the wall.

“Just give up already.”

“I can’t,” she whines, “I brought you out tonight so you could have fun, and get over Jake.”

You almost choke on your drink, “What? It's been like…two weeks since we broke up.”

“Exactly.” She retorts. “That’s why I shouldn't catch you staring at his contact all the damn time.” Your mouth falls open, “That was just one time!”

Aeri raises her eyebrows and you fall silent, already foreseeing your defeat in this little argument.

“Look,” Aeri says, her voice softening, “what matters is that this time you’re really done with him.” Her words were gentle, but the weight of them hit you harder than you expected. Aeri meant well, but the truth was embarrassing.

It had been two weeks since you broke up with Jake—for the third time in four months. Yes, third.

And no, you didn’t know why you kept going back either. Maybe dating a frat boy who happened to be a soccer star wasn’t your brightest idea.

Looking back, it seemed like you'd signed up for trouble with a side of emotional whiplash and good sex.

At first, Jake had been amazing.

Sophomore year started like a rom-com: he treated you like royalty, planned cute dates, stayed up all night with you in the library (even though he wasn’t the one with exams), and Jake just couldn’t get enough of you. The first six months were straight out of your dreams.

Your friends were gagging at how cute you were, even painting your face with his team colours to cheer him on with your friends from the bleachers like the supportive girlfriend you were—waiting for him to sweep you off your feet with a kiss whenever he won a game.

Then, everything changed after the final soccer game for the College Cup. Jake’s hero moment brought home the trophy, and suddenly, soccer was his whole life. You were still proud of him, of course, but things quickly started to feel…off.

Calls became shorter, dates were postponed, and before you knew it, you were practically his motivational speaker, squeezed in between practice sessions and interviews.

By the end, it felt like you were on his schedule, like a convenience more than a priority. He only called when he needed something—and that was obviously whenever he was horny and wanted to fuck what ever stress he had out of him.

You finally confronted him about it, hoping he’d realize that he was treating you like a fuck buddy more than his girlfriend—but instead, Jake argued, claiming he was too “busy” for “all that other dating stuff.”

That was your tipping point.

So, you broke up. And just when you thought you were free and ready to move on, summer ended and Jake reappeared like some kind of relationship boomerang.

He apologized, said all the right things, told you how much he missed you—and boom. Hours later, you’re back in his bed, wondering how it all happened.

The cycle was maddening. Each time he’d win you over with apologies and promises, things would feel perfect again, and then…well, you knew how it went.

“This time, it’s really over,” you declare over the pounding music, convincing yourself more than anyone else.

The last breakup was the worst yet. You argued for hours, screaming about relationships and priorities, and it finally hit you: Jake didn’t really deserve your time.

So why was it so hard to let him go?

You brushed away the ache in your heart as your argument came to mind, downing what was left of your drink to somehow dull the pain and take solace in the alcohol settling into your system.

“You just need a rebound.” Aeri says over the music, “I promise you, a good one night stand might just give you a fresh start and get you out of Jake's chokehold.”

“So is that why you dragged me to a party being hosted by his frat house?” You inquired with amusement. “Oh come on! Not every guy here belongs to the frat.”

You mull over her ‘rebound’ statement, eyes surveying the crowd as your nails made dents into the empty can. “Speaking of...” Aeri trails off and you follow the direction of her gaze to another one of your university's well known juniors and soccer players, Park Sunghoon.

Your eyes landed on his, staring at you from across the room with a gaze that made your cheeks warm. Sunghoon was one of the other popular boys in the year. He was sweet, funny, playful and damn that smile— you understood why girls fell at his feet.

You and Sunghoon had a few interactions before. You volunteered as a first aid for their soccer games on a few occasions, and he consistently took the chance to talk to you whenever you were present or needed his supposedly real injuries examined.

“He's been watching you for quite a while now.” She adds, playfully bumping her shoulder against yours. You divert your attention from him and look back at your best friend who was sporting a cheeky grin.

“The goalkeeper, Ae? That’s such a low blow.”

The girl besides you shrugs, moving her body to the beat of the music, “So…? He clearly likes you and I’m one hundred percent sure he’d treat you better than he ever did.”

You’re about to open your mouth to say something when she cuts you off. “Oh! I think I have to go to the…bathroom! I’ll see you later (Y/N).” She says, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek before rushing away from your side.

Your eyebrows meet in confusion as she dashes away from you, mouth agape at her sudden and abrupt departure—even running the opposite way.

But before your mind can conjure up any reasons, you hear your name being called in the loud crowd, turning to see Sunghoon making his way to you.

Oh. I see what you did there Aeri.

"Hey, angel," Sunghoon’s voice is low, with that unmistakable charm as he saunters up to you, eyes locked on yours.

"Sunghoon," you breathe, smiling as he closes the distance, his arms opening for you. His gaze flickers over your face, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine.

"Knew I’d recognize that pretty face anywhere," he murmurs as his arms slip around your waist, pulling you close.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into him—his scent wrapping around you, the firm warmth of his hands pressing against your lower back. It’s like everything around you fades except the feel of his body, the way your heart picks up in rhythm with his.

“How’ve you been?” you ask softly, voice catching just a bit as he pulls away, though his hands stay where they are, fingers resting casually on your hips.

“Any ‘injuries’ since I’ve been gone?” You tease, and the sound of his laugh sends a thrill through you.

“You noticed, huh?” Sunghoon’s voice drops a notch lower, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles just above your hip.

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. "How many times were you going to fake a knee injury in one game?”

“As many times as it took to get you close.” His hand lifts, brushing a few strands of hair from your face, his fingertips grazing your skin just enough to make you bite your lip.

“It’s kinda hard to keep my eyes on you when I'm supposed to be, y’know…playing.” His lips curl into a slow smirk, eyes burning into yours.

“Well,” you whisper, feeling the heat rise between you, “you’ve got me all to yourself now.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops to your lips, making your pulse race. The air thickens, and the corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah?” His voice is pure temptation, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Do I get to kiss you too?”

You don’t even have to think about it. You nod, lips parting slightly, eyes dipping to his mouth. His smirk deepens as he closes the distance, and your breath catches, waiting for the touch you've been craving.

Sunghoon wasted no time kissing you, softly crashing his lips against yours in a way that made you hum in content.

You could taste the remnants of his drink as he kissed you slowly and softly, meticulously exploring your mouth with his tongue as his hands stayed glued to your hips, rubbing your sides through the silk fabric of your minidress.

Your hand drifted to his, guiding it down to cup your ass which made him groan into your mouth. Sunghoon broke away from the kiss, softly biting your bottom lip as he pulled away with a smirk.

He leans closer to the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Do you want to take this upstairs?” The feeling of his hand caressing your ass makes you sigh, already feeling the fabric of your underwear sticking to you.

But before you could even respond, your eyes landed on someone who had suddenly materialised across the room, heart dropping to your stomach and your breath catching in your throat.

Jake.

His clenched jaw made you conclude that his eyes were seemingly already on you for what must’ve been like a while now, searing holes through you and Sunghoon from afar.

Your ears grew warm, gently pushing the tall man off you with a strained exhale. “Is everything alright? Did I do anything wrong?” Sunghoon asked as he scanned you worryingly.

“Of course not!” You immediately protest, “I just…” you trailed off as your eyes darted to the man who was still staring at you before they landed back on Sunghoon’s concerned ones.

“I don’t think I’m feeling well.”

It wasn’t a lie. You felt like you were gonna throw up with all the bile that was rising in your throat.

Why did he have to appear right now?

You could feel yourself slowly sobering up as you glanced at Jake once again, warm brown eyes staring you down in a way that made your breathing stutter.

“I think I need to go to the bathroom.” You mutter as you look away, swallowing the unwelcomed lump in your throat.

“Oh…the line to the bathroom looks pretty bad right now, you could use ours upstairs?”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Sure!” He nods with a smile, “do you want me to go with you?”

You shake your head, “It's okay, I’ll…I’ll be back” You smile weakly, pressing a quick kiss on Sunghoon’s lips before you slip away from his hold.

You couldn’t even bother to reply to his distant “call me if you need me” as you travelled through the sea of bodies, trying to find your way to stairs as your heart hammered out of your chest.

Shit.

Nothing could’ve prepared you to actually see Jake, even if you half-heartedly expected it. The frat house was so large, you had concluded that you probably wouldn’t have to see him.

Some part of you—regrettably and painfully so, already concluded that he was probably somewhere, rutting into some girl that threw herself at him, celebrating the freedom of being single or something.

You stormed up the stairs, making a beeline for the bathroom, relieved to find that it was empty as Sunghoon had mentioned, and as soon as the door closed behind you, you let out a weary sigh, muttering a curse under your breath.

Now you were mad at yourself. Why did you push Sunghoon away?

You could’ve let the junior lead you upstairs all while Sunghoon watched, knowing he knew exactly what you’d be up to–but you pushed him off. You could already imagine Jake’s joy when you walked away, leaving Sunghoon alone in the crowd.

Well done (Y/N).

Well-fucking-done. You thought to yourself as you looked at your reflection in the mirror, but your little self berating session was interrupted by the suddenly louder and crispier sound of music emitting into the bathroom, eyes travelling to the opened door.

When Jake comes into view, you roll your eyes and sigh inwardly. “What the hell do you want, Jake?” Is all you say, instantly plagued by irritation.

It was hard to admit, but he did look good tonight. All traces of his once blonde tinged hair were drowned out by the colour of jet black and it suited him so well.

He was dressed in a black dress shirt, chain around his neck and pair of loose fitting jeans that hung around his hips—a simple outfit that still looked undeniably great on him.

“I just came to check on you,” he shoves his hands in his back pockets as he nods his head to the door, “you didn’t look so well out there.”

“I’m fine.” You say, turning away, “can you get fuck out now?”

“Woah, just hang on a sec,” Jake sighs, “I haven’t seen you in ages, princess.”

Princess.

“I’m not your princess anymore Jake,” you deadpanned. “We broke up, remember? For good this time.” You added, emphasising the finality of it.

You wanted to make it clear that there was no going back, that this time Jake couldn't make you cave or entice you to return.

You were ready for something–someone– new, and you were pretty sure he was still waiting for you downstairs.

This was the perfect time to leave before you’d probably do anything you’d regret, especially when you noticed Jake’s lingering gaze on your minidress.

You cleared your throat, rolling your eyes as you tried to slip past Jake, but he blocked your way, his hand grabbing your wrist. His grip wasn’t forceful, but it was enough to halt you. “So, you’re really going back to him?” His words were sharp, a hint of desperation creeping in.

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “That’s none of your business.” Yanking your hand free, you spun on your heel, making for the door without so much as a second glance.

“(Y/N), baby, wait.” He followed closely, reaching out again, but you dodged him with a huff, crossing your arms tighter around yourself.

“Jake, seriously, just leave me alone.”

“Baby—” He finally managed to catch your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You groaned, throwing your head back with exaggerated frustration. “What now, Jake?”

He tried to meet your eyes, but you refused, stubbornly staring at anything that wasn’t his face. His hand cupped your chin, gently turning your face to his.

“Can we please talk? Please?” Jake’s voice was soft, almost pleading, and that stupid thumb of his traced along your jaw, sending a wave of heat through you that you definitely did not want to feel right now.

“Fine. Whatever,” you muttered, not quite looking at him but letting him lead you into his room.

As the door closed behind you, muffling the noise of the party downstairs, your gaze drifted around the room, filled with memories you weren’t ready to be reminded of yet.

But Jake didn’t give you the chance to settle into those thoughts. “Sunghoon?” he asked, his voice dripping with disbelief as he turned to you. His expression darkened instantly. “Seriously? Sunghoon?”

You snorted, shrugging carelessly. “Yeah, so what? He’s hot.”

Jake’s jaw clenched so hard you could practically hear his teeth grinding together. “So, what—you’re actually gonna sleep with him?” He sounded like he couldn’t decide if he was hurt or furious.

You folded your arms, lifting your chin defiantly. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me?” He stepped closer, and this time, you didn’t flinch. You wanted him to be mad. You liked him like this, all riled up and focused on you.

“You’re gonna fuck the one guy you told me not to worry about? The guy who’s been after you since the day we got together? My friend and my teammate?”

His eyes narrowed at you and you shrugged again, feigning indifference even though your heart was beating way too fast. “We’re not together anymore, Jake. I can sleep with whoever I want.”

Jake’s eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite read—anger, hurt, jealousy, all rolled into one.

“Wow. You really don’t care, do you?” His voice had gone quiet now, the kind of quiet that made you feel something twist in your stomach.

You opened your mouth to snap back, but the words didn’t come out as easily as you wanted them to. “I don’t…I mean, I told you, I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t get to—

“I don’t get to?” He cut you off, his laugh bitter as he ran his hand through his hair, pacing in front of you. “You’ve really moved on, huh? That easy?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. This wasn’t how you wanted this to go. But before you could say anything, he stepped closer again, backing you up until your legs hit the bed.

“You still feel something, (Y/N),” he said, his voice low, and the way his eyes bore into yours made it impossible to deny, even if you wanted to. “You’re still mine. You know it.”

Your heart was racing now, his closeness making it hard to breathe. But you weren’t about to let him win that easily. “I’m not yours, Jake. Not anymore.” Your voice wavered, just slightly, but you held your ground.

His hand reached out, fingertips brushing your arm, the touch so light it made your skin tingle. “Say it again,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Tell me you don’t care.”

You swallowed, hating how your resolve was crumbling under his touch. “I—I don’t care,” you repeated, but the words sounded less convincing now, and you both knew it.

“I’m done with you, Jake.” Your voice came out sharper, laced with defiance, but the flicker of doubt behind it didn’t go unnoticed by your ex boyfriend.

“Are you sure?” Jake’s words were smooth, almost teasing, as he leaned in closer, fingers drifting over to the slope of your neck.

He saw the way your eyes betrayed you, flickering to his lips for a brief second, and his smirk grew. “Because you don’t look over me.”

You rolled your eyes, even though your pulse quickened. “Has anyone ever told you how insufferable you are?” The bitterness in your laugh didn’t mask the heat that rose to your cheeks.

“Maybe. But it doesn’t make it any less true,” he said, his voice infuriatingly smug. “I saw you staring at me out there, (Y/N). You couldn’t keep your eyes off me, even with him standing right there.”

“You’re delusional,” you shot back, but the words didn’t have the bite you wanted them to. There was an edge of frustration—at him, at yourself—that you couldn’t shake. “I wasn’t staring at you.”

Jake chuckled softly, stepping in just enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. “Sure, baby. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You are such an asshole,” you hissed, trying to inject some venom into the words, but it came out more exasperated than you intended.

Jake tilted his head, his gaze softening in that maddening way, like he knew exactly how to unravel you. “Come on (Y/N), don’t be like that. You know you miss me.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach, the warmth creeping into your chest. “I don’t miss anything about you.”

“Really?” he whispered, his hand finding its way to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his touch sent sparks through your skin. “Because I miss you. I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel the traitorous warmth spreading through your veins.

His eyes—those stupid, beautiful brown eyes—were staring right into yours, and you hated that they still had that effect on you. But you weren’t about to give in. Not this time.

“I bet you have,” you muttered, rolling your eyes, though the sarcasm lacked its usual punch. “Probably because you miss having someone at your beck and call.”

Jake’s smirk faltered, but his gaze didn’t waver. “That’s not it, and you know it.” His voice was lower now, more intimate, tracing his thumb along your jaw. “I miss you.”

Your chest tightened and you hated how easily he got to you, how your demeanor crumbled the second he looked at you like that.

“I’ve moved on,” you said, but your voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

“Have you?” He breathed, leaning in so close you could feel the heat of his bated breath against your lips, “because right now, you don’t look like someone who’s moved on.”

You should’ve pushed him away, told him off like you promised Aeri you would. But instead, a warm feeling fluttered in the pit of your stomach as his lips hovered just out of reach.

Jake’s fingers traced the line of your jaw, then down the side of your neck, sending electric shivers through your body as he leaned in even closer.

The air between you was thick with tension, your breath shaky as you struggled to maintain control, slowly failing your resistance to give in to the desire that threatened to pull you under.

Jake’s lips brushed against yours before crashing against them in a heated, desperate kiss, his hand falling waist with tightening grip as if he was afraid to let go.

You kissed him back fiercely, your hands gripping his shirt as if to anchor yourself to the moment, all the anger, frustration, and unresolved feelings pouring into the kiss.

His soft plump lips moved unrelenting and hungrily against yours, his hands moving to cup your cheeks, fingers resting on your jaw as he deepened the kiss.

You tried to stay balanced as so many feelings crashed over you in equal measures, desperately leaning up into the kiss as you tried to match his fervour.

Oh, how you missed it.

His lips, his touch.

It all felt like a drug, a drug you disappointingly couldn't get enough of.

You fell into the bed softly, letting Jake hover over you without breaking the kisses, “I missed you.” he whispers, before kissing you again.

For a split second, you pulled back, breathless, your chest rising and falling as you looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “You’re still an asshole,” you muttered, though there was no bite left in your voice now.

Jake’s lips curved into a smirk as he leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one slower, softer. “Yeah, but you’re still kissing me,” he whispered against your lips.

Jake’s lips continued to moved against yours and you could barely breathe from the tightness in your chest, tangling your fingers into his soft hair as you drew him closer.

He pulled away and you barely had a second to think before his lips were on your neck, head falling to the side as soft sloppy kisses were pressed onto your skin, eliciting a soft moan from you.

You could feel Jake smirk against your neck, sucking marks into your skin that you were sure he wanted to show.

Your eyes flutter shut as his hands slowly ease down your body, his touch firmer than last time, lips lingering on the slope of your neck and fingers sliding under your dress.

Jake’s warm palm slid up the inside of your thighs and a wave of anticipation and desire coursed through you, a sound escaping your throat only to be muffled by his lips.

He pulled away and latched his lips to your collarbone, sucking and littering the skin with hues of purple as his fingers traced along your underwear making you arch your back reflectively.

"I’ve missed this." Jake whispers, hooking his finger around the waistband of your underwear, pressing a trail of sloppy kisses down the valley of your breasts as he slowly pulls your underwear off.

A shaky sigh fell past your lips at the feeling of the cool air hitting your cunt, and you couldn’t help but cry at the feeling of Jake’s fingers running up your glistening folds.

“Well…I…haven’t.” You breathe out stubbornly as his other hand pushes your straps over your arms, fingers brushing the cup of your dress away and running over your naked breasts.

The feeling of his cold rings grazing over your nipples makes you clench around nothing, half lidded eyes staring back at his lustful ones.

“Hmm. Really?” He asks, looking down between your legs, raising his eyebrow as he looked up.

“That was probably…” You begin, slowly losing your train of thought at the feeling of his hand caressing your breasts. “Shit—that was probably Sunghoon” You only manage to say in between swallowed moans.

“Come again?”

Your cheeky smile was quickly wiped off, as his fingers traced up and down your folds, biting your lip with a whine as he circled your wet entrance.

A soft breathy moan leaves your lips, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as his fingers slid into you with ease, leaning into his touch. “Jake, shit—” Your voice cuts off, mouth falling agape as he slowly drags his fingers in and out of you.

“That’s what I thought.”

Prick.

Jake’s plump lips latch onto your erect nipple, tongue swirling and sucking on the sensitive bud and your head falls back into the pillow biting your lip as your hands weave into Jake’s soft hair.

Jake groaned around your sensitive bud, making your whole body twitch at the vibration. His tongue moved to your other one, giving it the same treatment and you couldn't stop yourself from grinding against him, needing more.

His tongue and fingers were doing wonders on you, trying to silence the sounds falling from your lips. You resisted your moans by biting your lip to avoid giving him that satisfaction—which he obviously hated.

Jake could still tell that you were falling apart, ruining the fabric of his shirt and grinding into his fingers breathlessly, but that wasn't enough, he wanted to hear you.

“So we’re playing it that way, huh?” He pulled away, chest heaving against yours as you grabbed his arm, fingers continuing to pump into you, throwing head back with a breathy, almost silent moan before looking back at him.

“What way?” You rasped, feigning innocence, watching your ex-boyfriend chuckle to himself.

“Okay.”

And before you could get lost in the feeling of his fingers any longer, he slips out of your cunt, whining at the loss of his touch.

You were barely given time to protest or process anything before he swiftly flipped you over, face meeting the soft pillows that adorned his bed with a surprised gasp.

You could feel your heart thrum against your chest, face growing warm at the compromising position Jake just put you in.

You turned around, glancing at Jake's lips wrapped around his fingers, sucking your arousal clean off with a delighted hum.

He eyes darted over to yours, and you tore your eyes away, that dull ache returning to your thighs from the sight.

“M’gonna fuck you so good,” Jake's eyes trailed over your backside, “you’ll scream my name.” He groaned, kneading the soft flesh of your ass as your breath stuttered.

Jake quickly got rid of his clothes and you hated the way your heart skipped a beat in anticipation.

“Are you sure about that?” You challenge, almost yelping when he suddenly grabs your hips flush to his own.

He leaned over to you, brushing your hair away from your face as he pressed a soft kiss on the side of your temple.

“You and that damn attitude.” Jake clicked his tongue as he ran his cock along your folds, soft whimpers leaving your lips as he slowly pushed himself into you.

Jake watched as he eased himself in, moaning at the way your warmth and wetness sucked him in like a vacuum.

The stretch felt so good, so undeniably good and you hated the way your walls instantly fluttered around him, soft pathetic sounds falling out of your lips as he began to move, grabbing the sheets beneath with your swallowed cries.

You clamp your hand over your mouth and Jake glares, shaking his head with an affronted expression as he grabs that wrist, pinning it behind your back as he continues to work himself in and out of you.

“Shit.” You gasp, letting a few whimpers slip past your lips, cheek flushed against the soft pillows, a few moans escaping your throat at the feeling of him brushing over you in a way that made your vision cloudy before closing your mouth.

"You're taking me soooo well, baby.” Jake’s brows drew together with a moan, snapping his hips to yours as you clenched around him.

"Fuck, you missed this didn't you?" He hissed, watching you writhe in pleasure.

You were a mess beneath him, tears pricking your eyes at the way he relentlessly pounded into you.

You let out a loud gasp when Jake reached under to play with your clit, pressing his finger into it, "Jake." You whispered with a whimper, fisting the sheets, still stubbornly refusing to make any sound—which Jake only took as a challenge.

Your heart couldn't help but swell with guilt when Sunghoon came to mind, still awaiting your return.

Or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe after a few minutes had passed, he went over to check on you, only to hear your moans emitting from the crevices of Jake's door before walking away.

Jake really did have a chokehold on you.

The man pulled out with a curse, and you cried at the sudden loss. You were about to turn around to protest when Jake gripped the base of his cock, lining up with your puffy entrance again.

With no warning, Jake plunged his dick into your tight heat, the sound of skin slapping against each other and a scream leaving your lips as the man fucked you relentlessly.

“That's it, princess, let me hear those beautiful moans.”

“Oh, fuck.” You moaned, gasping and writhing, arching your back and pushing yourself against his cock, begging for more.

“You're so fucking good around me- fucking made for me.” Jake groans, low moans tumbling from his lips.

"You're mine aren't you?"

Of course, you wanted to scream no—you wanted to deny his claim, but his name spilled out of your lips, again and again, begging him not to stop.

"Say you're mine." He hissed, pounding his cock into you. Your heart raced, and you were certain that he could feel it as the pleasure continuously washed over you.

"Say it."

“Jake oh my—” you’re cut off by your own moan the moment he hit your sweet spot, your face hot as you let out lewd sounds into the pillows with no control of your own, throat strained already.

"Fuck—Yes! I'm yours." You screamed, tears spilling out of your eyes as he worked his hand around your clit.

“I’m yours.” You moaned, clawing at the sheets. He continued to rub his finger over your swollen bud, his other hand reaching over to gently grab a fistful of your hair bringing you flush to his chest.

You could feel your legs begin to tremble as profound pleasure coursed through you, hands flailing around to grip on his shoulder as you continuously surged forward from Jake’s thrusts.

“That’s right, baby.” He rasped, almost bordering whimpers as he continued to pump in you, thick velvety walls hugging him so tightly, slipping in and out of you with such ease.

Your whimpers and screams echoed through the room, legs threatening to give out from just how good he felt, dizzying and intense pleasure washing over you everytime he thrusted into you.

You were too fucked out to be self conscious about your loud moans, or concerned that maybe people could somehow hear Jake fucking your brains out over the loud music.

If you weren’t so clouded and already fucked out, you would’ve guessed that Jake probably loved how loud you were.

It felt like he was telling the whole house that you were still his no matter what—especially Park Sunghoon.

Jake would notice the goalkeeper staring at you from across the field, cozying up to you as if he wasn’t just a few metres away from you— the nerve.

Like what the fuck happened to bro code?

“Do you think he can make you feel this way baby?” he asks and your mouth falls agape, brain foggy. You shook your head with a whimper.

You were so out of focus, his dick so good and stupefying that you couldn't even speak.

Jake revelled in the moans of his name tumbling past your lips. The thought of another guy’s name leaving those pretty lips drove him crazy, you were his, he had no idea what was going in Sunghoon’s mind to think that he could actually be with you.

He could feel you tightening around him and he knew you were close, thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release.

"Say my name." He hissed, "tell me who makes you feel this good."

"Jake-"

“I can’t hear you princess.” He groaned.

"Jake!" You sobbed, gasping and squirming as the pleasure became too much.

"That’s it, come for me, baby." He cooed, wrapping an arm around your neck and squeezing it gently.

The pressure on your throat, and the way his fingers played with your clit were enough to make you scream out his name, the coil in your stomach finally snapping, walls clamping around him and milking him for all he's worth as your legs shook, vision blackening, and eyes squeezing shut.

You moan his name, the only thing running through your mind and leaving your lips as he places you back into the bed, holding your hips.

"That’s right." Jake groaned, still slamming his hips into you. "Who does your pussy belong to?"

“Fuck,” you cried out, feeling another orgasm creep in, "it belongs to you, only you." You mewled as your walls tightened, shattering pleasure rippling through you once again, as his thrusts finally slowed.

“Such a pretty sight for me.” He moaned with a final thrust, shooting his seed into you as he rode out your highs.

Jake continued to empty his load into you, softly whimpering at the sudden warmth coating your walls until he finally pulled out of you.

Your head fell into pillows, the aftershocks of your orgasms still rippling through you as you tried to catch your breath.

"(Y/N)," He said softly, and you could feel his hands rest on the slope of neck and you slowly turned to look at him.

Jake gently wiped away your stray tears, his eyes looking for some sort of affirmation that what he did was okay, that he hadn't gone too far, that he didn't hurt you.

"You okay?"

You nodded with a dazed laugh, “Yeah, I’m fine.” You rasped, as he enveloped your lips in a sloppy and gentle kiss.

Jake wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing the marks on your neck that he left a while ago.

“Stay over.” He whispers against your skin and your shoulders fall with a sigh, hands brushing his slightly damp hair away from his face, “I don’t know Jake…”

“Just for tonight.”

“Please.” He begs, in a softer tone. You looked at him— at his pretty face, his pink plump lips and his slightly messy hair, breathing in the mellow undertones of sweet vanilla in the perfume he was wearing tonight.

“Jake.” You whisper again, as you watch his hands caress your shoulders. You look up at him, ready to turn him down but you don’t say anything.

“We don’t have to do anything…I just want to be with you.”

Those words.

It’s like you could see your past self rolling her eyes, “not again.”

“Okay.”

You let him pull you back to his chest, let him wrap his arms around you as you fell asleep, lulled by the rise and fall of his chest and the sound of his beating heart.

Jake watched you fall asleep in his arms, and the sight alone made him forget about the world outside, and the ache that was still in his chest.

It was just for tonight.

Just for tonight.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #jake sim x reader #sim jaehyun x reader #jake sim smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake x reader #jake smut #exes to lovers #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #kpop smut #smut

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twdfemmefetal · 3 months ago

Text

Yup, s’all mine

Summary: Shane, tries to make a move on reader when Lori takes Rick back, only to find out she’s already taken…by Daryl.

Era: Quarry

Warning: MDNI, Age Gap between Daryl(40) and Reader(mid 20s), possessiveness, swearing, suggestive content.

Shane couldn’t fathom the idea of Lori and Carl being reunited with Rick. He sneered at the thought of his name itself. Walking around the quarry to try to keep his head clear of the invasive thoughts of hurting rick, his mind suddenly drifted to the beauty just a few feet ahead of him.

Shane was so wrapped up in his whole affair with Lori that he had never taken the time to actually get to acknowledge you. Shane bit his lip watching you from behind one of the trees of the Georgian forest.

You were writing in a pink journal, with a pink pen, that had a silly little fluffy ball on top, which waved around every time the ink hit the paper.

He bit his lip, seeing your legs crossed over each other, exposed to the bright sun, in your short little denim skirt, which seems to compliment your curves and round ass perfectly.

He felt his pants tighten slightly when he looked over your pronounced breasts in the small white tube top that wrapped around them securely. He thanked god for the cool Georgian breeze making your nipples hard. His mouth practically watered, imaging how they would feel in between his teeth as he sucked on them.

Shane hasn’t realized how much he really started to admire you. His heart slowly increasing, as he observed more of your features. The way your wavy long hair flowed in the breeze, your glittery glossy lips puckering or forming into the shape of a thin line as you thought of what to write next. He couldn’t get enough of your beauty.

“Tha fuck ya’ think yer’ doin’ er’ Shane?!” The sound of a familiar southern drawl interrupted Shane lewd thoughts as he stalked you from afar. Shane furrowed his brows in slight anger as he was interrupted from being able to admire you.

“Honestly Daryl, it’s none of your business.” Shane then proceeded to try to walk past Daryl, but he stopped him by putting his hand on his shoulder roughly and looking at Shane, with dark eyes full of anger. “Don’ bother with er’ she’s mine.” Shane scoffed defensively and shaked Daryl’s hand off his shoulder. “Fuck off redneck, I can do what I want.” And with a sinister smirk, Shane walked back to the camp. Now feeling ever more fueled to per-sue you. What one thing Shane loved most than messing with a marriage, is chasing after someone like if was a game.

Daryl felt uneasy, at the sinister look that Shane carried in his eyes the whole time he was watching you, trying to stay hidden in the treelines.

He couldn’t help but feel so angry not even being able to think of what sinister thoughts Shane most likely was thinking as he watched you.

After the short heated exchange between the two Daryl quickly walked down the small hill and past the tree line to reach you.

Your head quickly snapped at the sound of someone’s steps emerging from beside you, causing you to quickly get up from the rock you were sitting on and pull out your hunting knife that Daryl had bought for you.

Your heart thumped when you saw the archer-your archer emerging from the tree line. The look of his stoic expressionless face causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion at what he could possibly be bumming him out.

Daryl quickly wrapped an arm around your waist, roughly pulling you closer to his chest, “what’s wrong Daryl?” You asked while softly putting your arms around his neck.

He ignored your question while his lips roughly latched onto your neck, attacking every inch of skin you had exposed, roughly sucking and bitting on it, purposely leaving sloppy hot wet kisses and hickeys on you. You threw your head back when you felt one of his hands roughly grope your ass, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

You had no idea what had gotten in to him, being used to Daryl only being able to touch and kiss you in the privacy of your tent. He wasn’t big on PDA, or showing anyone you guys were even a couple so him being this greedy with you in a big open space by the quarry left you a bit puzzled.

“S’all Mine… all fuckin’ mine.” Daryl groaned out as he softly lifted you up and layed you down on the rock you were sitting on as his lips left a trail of his sloppy kisses from your neck down to your chest, and onto your exposed stomach.

You squirmed slightly feeling more aroused at his roughness, and how eager he seemed to want to claim you.

“Daryl, fuck….” You couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of his hands all over you. But you had a feeling something was up with him, and as much as you were enjoying his affection for you, you had to ask him once more.

“Daryl baby, stop.” You managed to let out with a strangled moan, to your surprise Daryl growled and quickly got up from his position on top of you, his gaze on you darkened in annoyance as you fixed your top that managed to slip a bit, almost revealing your nipples to the world. You pulled down your skirt and flattened your hair as you now stood up in front of him.

He was glaring at you, and had crossed his arms in front of his chest defensively, waiting for you to speak.

“Daryl what’s wrong?” You asked softly placing a hand on his cheek. He scoffed and quickly backed away from your touch, slightly causing you to feel a slight sting to your heart- you didn't take it personal, knowing how he used this as a defense mechanism.

“I want ya to stay away from Shane alrigh’? He’s fuckin’ weird, don’ want him around ya.” He anxiously bit the inside of his cheek and wrapped his arms across his chest, clearly uncomfortable with what he was saying. He was ready for any sort of outburst or reservations you would have against his warning against shane. Everyone in the camp idolized him like a good, but Daryl couldn't stand him and was the only one to see right through his facade. But to his shock you smiled softly at him and agreed with him.

“Okay Daryl. I’ll stay clear of him, can I ask why though?” Daryl bit his lip as he watched over your expressions.

“Since Lori is fuckin her husband again, I think that prick is desperate for some other kind of attention.”

You nodded, understanding his tension and why he was so hesitant to speak to you about the subject. Your lips curls up at how overprotective he had gotten with you, “s’my good girl.” Daryl said softly as he rubbed his knuckles on the side of your face, causing you to lean into his tender touch.

Later that day, Daryl has gone hunting, we were running low on meat for dinner. He was hesitant on leaving you alone, especially with Shane being around but had to get the job done. He offered to take you with him but you refused, you didn’t really have anything that was ‘hunting’ appropriate, which made you mentally remember to pick up better clothes for the future, you had to get out of the habit of your old lifestyle and cursing yourself for not bringing any appopriate survival clothes once you left the city. The world has changed and is all about pure survival now, not a fashion show.

As you sat in front of Daryl’s tent reading a book on a log, you heard footsteps approaching you. Not caring to look up, assuming the person was just walking by, you’re eyes widen when the person was toe to toe with you. Your eyes slowly trailed up to the figure and saw Shane staring back at you, his eyes full of lust as you looked through his darken gaze.

“Can I help you?” You asked rather rudely, catching him off guard. Causing him to scoff and give you an amusing smirk.

“What are you doing over here?” His eyes narrowed at you, “reading a book? What’s it look like?”

He rolled his eyes slightly, his lips turning up into a curl.

“Nah girl, what’s a pretty girl like you doing around Daryl Dixon? Ya know he’s not safe to be around.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment, seriously? Daryl wasn't safe to be around was he joking?

“Honestly, I dont think its any of your buisness.” After your curt response he crouched down to you until he was eye level with you. His nostrils flared as he snatched your book out of your hands.

“Shane!” You yelled out trying to grab the book from behind him. Shane maliciously then held it above his head, making you get on your tippy toes to try to snatch it back. He smirked at your failed attempts and quickly wrapped an arm around you, puling you close to him.

"What the fuck? Get off of me!" You tried your hardest to get out of his grasp but failed miserably in his strong grip.

"He's trailer park white trash darlin', wasting your time being with someone like that." You couldn't believe what he was saying and at this point, you were over him.

You raised your hand and slapped him as hard as you could, leaving a print of your handprints and nails on his cheek. He ragefully let you go with a shove, then causing you to back up as far as you could from him.

"y/n?" you turned at the voice, knowing it was your man. "Daryl." You replied softly and hurried up to his side, Daryl quickly checked you over for any sort of injuries, his features then softened when he saw the look of fear in your face. Becoming enraged, Daryl quickly flashed Shane a harden glare causing fear to emerge in his eyes as he quickly looked away and hurried out of the secluded area.

"Fucker wouldn't leave me alone, I hope that slap showed him who he's messing with." You were fuming, beyond angered at how Shane was trying to get into your pants.

"I'll kill em'"Daryl threatened with a low growl but you softly placed a hand on his bicep, stopping him from doing anything irrational. He tensed up, jaw clenched still trying to fight his urges not to go after him.

"Im all yours, he just can't seem to get the hint, maybe we should show him how serious we are huh?" You smirked thinking of a wonderful idea to get it through his thick head.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻

"Fuck! Daryl! Keep going...Dont stop baby." You moaned out loud from a part of the woods that you both knew he would be around.

Daryl kept thrusting into you from behind as he bent you over a rock.

You heard a twig snap, knowing it was Shane who was trying to see what the noise was about.

His eyes widen when he got a glimpse of Daryl, pants pooled to his ankles, and you on your tippy toes-bent over a rock as he was fucking you from behind. You were screaming Daryl's name and moaning as he fucked you mercilessly.

Shane quickly averted his eyes and looked away, feeling embarrased beyond belief. Now knowing to steer clear from you.

#twd daryl #daryl dixon #twd x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl one shot #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction

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gomtangii · 2 months ago

Text

can't get enough!

boyfriend!rafayel x fem!reader wc: 890 cw: NSFW minors and ageless dni, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, aftercare

rafayel is insatiable.

you would've never guessed this before you started dating him. he's always been flirty, suggestive, even seductive, but he turned out to be a bit of a prude. all he ever gave you were kisses, but anything further he'd get all red and would push you away.

"if you keep touching me, i'll scream!" he squeals, covering his chest as he wiggles away from you.

"rafayel!" you groan.

he just said he needed a bit of time and of course you would give him that, you just did not understand his overreaction, treating you like a lewd fiend!

then finally, the day came. he took you out on a nice shopping spree and fancy dinner, then took you back to his house. he sits you down on the couch and you're confused when he says the two magical words:

"i'm ready."

and, well, rafayel was right to threaten to scream, because the moment he said that, you did end up pouncing on him. you jumped on top and started kissing him fervently, your lips pressing against his. instead of pushing you away like he always has, he holds you by your hips and returns your desperate kisses. you taste so sweet, he can't believe he managed to hold out this long.

his hands drag down to your ass, lifting you up and letting your legs wrap around him as he carries you to his bedroom. he lays you down gently on his plush sheets, staring down at your flushed face, half-lidded eyes, and puffy lips. blood rushes to his cock as he takes off his shirt in a hurry. you squeeze your own legs as you watch him strip, the sight sensual and erotic. when you try to unbutton your own shirt, he stops you, choosing to do it himself.

you're so beautiful and he isn't sure he can hold back any longer, but neither can you. in the quickest way possible, you're both now bare, pinned under rafayel as he fucks into you at a rapid pace. stars block your eyes as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, stretching you out oh so well. you bite down onto his sheets, unable to think when he keeps interrupting your thoughts with every thrust.

"so good, you're doing s-so good," rafayel stutters, unable to think as well, "feels sooo good, can't believe i waited so fucking long i should've fucked you sooner you're so fucking good for meeee... gonna fuck you everyday." he groans into your ear, sloppily leaving marks on your neck and back.

suddenly his thrusts get staggered as he pushes your ass up in the air to hit deeper when he stops, cumming straight into your womb. he moans loudly, his chest pressed up against your back as he encases you, making you take it. the feeling of his cock spurting and twitching inside you sends you over the edge, your pussy convulsing around his length and encouraging him to cum more.

you pant, your body falling limp on the bed, but rafayel doesn't pull out. he doesn't even turn soft. instead, all he does is whisper into your ear.

"again."

what you didn't expect is for him to continue fucking you for the next few hours and to keep this up for the next week. it was as if he was either trying to get you pregnant or to make up for lost time. perhaps both, but it was truly hard to tell what even turned him on.

you would be in a robe fresh out of the shower and he'd yank it off and push you backwards onto his recliner. you could be coming back from a workout and he'd be on his knees, nastily eating you out, telling you how sweet you taste. you could be bumming in sweats and he'd whisk you away to his bed. and if you stand in front of him in your best outfit? he would get so hard that you wouldn't be able to walk the next day.

it was a lot, but you didn't mind. the bath with petals and scented salts, the massages and lotion, the tray of snacks and drinks, all those paired with the soft kisses he'd press onto your cheeks while whispering "i love you" into your ear makes it worth it.

"hey, raf?" you murmur, cuddling against him as he pulls the blanket higher, kissing the top of your head, "why did you wait so long if you were going to be so... i don't know, insatiable?"

"i waited because of that exact reason," he chuckles, nuzzling your hair, "i knew i wouldn't be able to stop once i started and i didn't want you to dislike me for it."

"you're so stupid," you mutter, rolling your eyes, earning a well-earned scoff from rafayel.

"i'm being vulnerable and that's all you have to say?" he sobs dramatically.

"no, you stupid fish, i mean that you're stupid for thinking i would hate you for having the libido of a teenager," you turn around to cup his face, squishing his cheeks and pecking his lips, "i could never hate you. i love you."

his eyes widen for a second before smiling, his heart melting at your words. his kisses you again and snuggles you, murmuring softly,

"i love you too."

can you believe that he's my number one and this is my first work for him

#lads rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #rafayel l&ds #rafayel smut #love and deepspace rafayel #lnds rafayel #lnds smut #lnds x reader #lads x reader #lnds x you #lnds x mc #lads smut #lads x mc #lads x you #lads x y/n

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on-a-lucky-tide · 3 months ago

Text

Johnny's knee hurts. Price helps him feel better.

cw: messy blowjob. For the @continentcakeshop, who love Johnny.

Johnny shifted his foot for the third time in ten minutes and felt the now familiar twinge through his knee. He couldn't decide what was worse; the constant dull ache of keeping it stationary, like it needed to click, which was driving him batshit insane, or the sharp burn of a quick stretch that made his entire body jolt, knocking the table he was sharing with the boss man himself.

“You broken?” Price asked, tapping the blunt nib of his biro against the manilla folder by his form.

“Naw, sir. Jus’ me bum knee. S’givin’ me grief cause it's cald outside.”

“You been t’ the physio?”

“Not fer a few weeks. No time, ye know…” Johnny gestured aimlessly at the paperwork in front of him. When he'd signed up at fifteen and nine months, he hadn't expected to spend so long with a damn pen in his hand instead of a firearm.

Price hummed and Johnny watched his whiskers twitch as they tended to do when he was mulling something over. Then came the full face grimace as he considered his options. The biro clattered to the table moments later, the chair legs scraping against the concrete floor. “Olrigh’, can't ‘ave ya fallin’ behind. Keks down, leg up ‘ere.”

Johnny blinked owlishly, first at Price's hands as they patted his lap and then at the intense blue eyes watching him from beneath thick eyebrows. “Come again.”

“C’mon, MacTavish. Don't ‘ave all day. Boot off, drop ‘em. Quick rub down will make it feel better.”

Oh, he wasn't taking the piss. Well, shit. Johnny glanced at Price's hands again, big, weathered, with long clever fingers and a scar across the knuckles from where Price had skinned them open on the steel-plated jaw of a Kortac operator. The thought of having them on his body in any capacity made a sudden surge of heat fill his belly.

His knee gave another unrepentant throb and he stood awkwardly to undo his belt, jamming the heel of his boot against the toe of the other to kick it off before loosening the laces. He managed to slide his leg out, the knee support catching on his waistband, before slumping back into the chair. His foot hovered off the floor, suddenly conscious of how fuckin’ filthy his sock was. And how tight his boxers were.

“Ain't got all night,” Price said. “Stop bein’ a pansy. Ain't gonna ‘urt ya.”

Johnny scowled and extended his leg, setting it gingerly across Price's lap while his hands cupped over his crotch. “Naw one says pansy any more, old man.”

Price raised an eyebrow as he hooked Johnny's knee support and coaxed it down his calf muscle, bunching it at his ankle as he wrinkled his nose. “This sock ever seen a washin’ machine?”

“Oh feck, now ye really sound like me pa.”

“I was eleven years old when you were born, I ain't yer dad, MacTavish.” Price chucked the support and the filthy sock onto the floor and ran his thumbs up the sides of Johnny’s leg, pressing into the swollen ligaments and tendons either side of his patella. The sensation sat keenly on the threshold of pain and pleasure; Price couldn't press too hard without oil, but his pressure was damn perfect.

“Oh, fuck… mmm, aye, but I c’n still call ye dad–”

“If ya finish that sentence, ‘m gonna dislocate yer knee cap.”

“Aye, sir."

Johnny tried to stay quiet. He yapped when he was nervous and Jesus wept he was nervous now. Not because it hurt - god, fuck, Price’s hands were a damn dream - but because the heat in his belly was spreading out through the rest of him; a warm, fuzziness humming just below his skin. As the dull ache ebbed into a low throb, Johnny’s chin tilted down and his eyes lidded. He watched those strong hands work, manipulating his muscles and tendons like putty, pressing to and fro in easy glides that left Johnny lightheaded.

Johnny bit back a moan. Price was good. He knew what he was doing. Didn't stay only around the knee, but rubbed behind it and slightly down the calf to ease the resulting tension from where the rest of his leg was overcompensating. That was all fine… it was when those thumbs went up his thigh, one on the hairy outside, the other up the milky soft skin of the inner, that the whole arrangement got a bit spicy.

Johnny was getting hard. Proper hard, not just a cheeky little chubby. He could feel the wet patch in the cotton where his leaking tip was pushing up against his palm. Fuck, fuck. His eyes squeezed shut, and he tried to distract himself. Mentally listing off the steps for stripping a gun, the ingredients for a pipe bomb, the starting fifteen for Man City–

“Ev’ryfin olrigh’, Soap?”

Johnny’s eyes blinked open and he realised he'd been damn panting. Price hadn't stopped though. One hand had wandered a little higher, massaging his thigh muscle while the other cupped beneath his calf. Just a little higher and he could slide his cock into his captain's palm. Those callouses would feel unreal against the silky skin of his shaft… no, no, normal thoughts. Normal.

“Aye, sir. Sorry. Jus’... Uh…”

“Feels good,” Price finished for him. “Been a while for more ‘an jus’ physio then.” There was a wry amusement to his tone and Johnny’s lower lip pushed up in a pout, his face flushing red.

“S’not what it looks like.”

“Looks like yer hard from a little tenderness, sergeant.”

“Fuck, don't tell anyone, ah’ll do dogsbody in officer’s mess fer a whole month.”

“Oof, humiliatin’.”

“Not as humiliatin’ as Garrick takin’ the pish cause ah got a stonner for me captain,” Johnny blurted out, making it infinitely worse. “Fuck.”

Price snorted a laugh and Johnny’s eyes blew owlishly wide again. Those big hands were still working; any pain had faded, and only a warm pleasure remained, pressure coiling in his groin. Price hummed. “Maybe I can help ya with that too. If yer up for it.”

“What?” Johnny squeaked. Price was a gay man. That was no secret. He was one of the few gay men in the service that Johnny had ever encountered that endured precisely fuck all abuse about it. No cunt was daft enough to even try. Johnny had been too feart to own his sexuality, but Price had probably heard Grindr ping one too many times to be left under any illusion that Johnny was straight.

“Yer not the only one goin’ through a bit of a dry spell. Offer’s there.”

Johnny swallowed thickly. He couldn't lift his eyes from Price's hands, watching those strong thumbs circle either side of his knee again, prick throbbing in the confines of his boxers. Of all the days to wear his snug Calvin Kleins that left nothing to the imagination. The bulge had filled his palms now. He could pull away, put a stop to it, but he didn't want to. He wanted Price’s hand wrapped around his prick. “Aye.”

“Whot?”

“Aye, sir… ah’d like some… help,” Johnny finished lamely, his fingers tightening over his cock as he shifted his arse in the chair.

Price blinked at him slowly, leaning back in his chair. Johnny’s leg shifted a little, foot tilting out, and he saw it for the first time. A huge fuck off bulge in the front of Price's Carhartts. “Oh-ho, fuck me, look at the size of it,” Johnny wheezed, and then clicked his mouth shut, lips sucked in so he could chew on them before murmuring, “Respectfully… sir.”

Price chuckled, rubbing a hand over his face, nails raking down through his beard around the edges of his grin. “‘m gonna be glad ev’ryone's on leave, un’ I?”

Johnny flushed to the tips of his ears. “Ah can be wheesht.”

“Nah, don't be.” Price took Johnny's ankles and lowered his leg slowly to the floor. Johnny licked his lips as anticipation bubbled in his chest, hands still clasped over his crotch despite the futility of trying to hide his erection. His eyes somehow widening further as Price slipped from his seat and onto his knees between Johnny’s feet.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Johnny breathed, hands shaking as Price took them and guided them away from where they still cupped protectively over his cock. He felt the warm puff of Price's breath over the hair on his belly and the damp spot on his boxers, and his toes curled against the floor. Those weathered fingers stroked up his thighs, over soft cotton to the elastic of his waistband. Johnny’s cock flicked gratefully free, ruddy and dark compared to the rest of him, and he sucked in a sharp hiss through his teeth as cool air found his wet slit.

“Well, pretty all over, ain’tcha, sergeant?”

Johnny knew he had a nice dick, good girth, nice upward curve to hit all the right spots and a respectable length. He'd taken enough selfies with it and then had his phone blow up to know, but to hear Price say it in that silky rumble made him go weak. His hips squirmed, and he bit his lower lip as Price's beard rubbed on his inner thigh, followed by the softness of his lips as he kissed a trail up. Johnny fingers bit into the outside of his legs as they pushed out, urging Price to get to his destination. “Please, sir…”

“Relax, soldier. I gotcha.”

Finally, Price grasped Johnny’s cock, fingers pushing through the coarse thatch of hair at the base. Johnny let out a soft whine, shaft flicking in Price’s grip as a thick pearl of precum welled from his slit. It was sweet, sweet torture. A mixture of relief and yearning that made his entire body light up. Price’s thumb swept below his waistband, brushing the swell of his sac, before he stroked up, fingers brushing over the flare of Johnny’s crown.

Johnny groaned, head flopping back because he needed to briefly thank fucking God for blessing his dick and promise to visit confession at some point in the next decade to repent for lusting after his captain's hands and mouth. He couldn't take his fucking eyes off Price for long, and he looked back in time to watch Price ease his foreskin back, the wicked tip of his tongue pushing though Johnny’s slit to lap it clean of pre. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… god, shite, ahh, sir, mmm.”

The lines around Price's eyes deepened in amusement, and then his eyes slid closed in what Johnny could only describe as bliss as he kissed the thick vein down Johnny's length, brushing the tip of his nose across silky skin until it buried against Johnny's groin with a soft groan. “Mm, fuck, ya smell good.”

Johnny spread his legs a little further, lifting his arse when Price tugged his boxers to bring them further down his thighs. The heat of his mouth enveloped Johnny’s balls, his tongue pressing down the seam, Johnny's cock resting against his cheek as he tasted his fill. Johnny panted through parted lips, one hand finally leaving his leg to slide around the back of his captain's head to pull his face closer. “Aye… sir, fuck… ahh.”

The moan that rumbled from Price’s chest rolled up Johnny’s body like an earthquake, and he heard the clatter of a buckle as Price fumbled with his belt to free his cock. Jacking himself off to the taste of Johnny’s sac in his mouth. When he finally drew away, he left Johnny's dark curls wet with spit, his blue eyes lidded, drunk on Johnny's musk and the pleasure of his hand pumping slowly up and down his own cock.

“God, yer a fuckin’ bonny picture, sir. Love tae suck cock, eh? Fuck.”

Price didn't say anything, just licked back up the underside of Johnny’s prick to draw the tip into his mouth. The wet glide of Price's tongue around his glans made Johnny groan, and he lifted his hips, pressing his tip over the ridges at the top of Price's mouth, fingers tightening at the back of his head. Price didn't need much encouragement to sink down, but he did so at his own pace, slowly, torturously, sucking Johnny deeper into the glorious wet heat of his mouth until Johnny’s head hit the back of his throat.

Johnny held him there for moment, admiring the stretch of his lips around the heft of his shaft, the lidded, fucked out enjoyment in his eyes, the way his broad shoulders were completely relaxed as he palmed himself lazily. Bonny was right. Johnny wondered what he'd be like on his back with his hands pinned above his head, what his moans might sound like when they weren't muffled by cock…

Price drew off, sucking greedily until he reached the tip, before lowering again in a steady glide, fucking his own mouth on Johnny's prick. Johnny moaned loudly with each dip of Price’s head, his thighs shaking as warm, irresistible pleasure curled in his hips, through his belly, his balls firming up beneath Price's chin. “Ah, ah, sir, fu-mm, fuck, yer mouth… is… ahh.”

And then Price swallowed him down proper. Johnny felt the pop as his head pushed into Price's throat, the clenching tightness made him choke out a low, trembling moan, Price’s nose buried against his groin. The sound of Price’s pumping hand, the wet slap of skin, grew more urgent and the thought that Price was even more turned on by having Johnny in his throat was dizzying. When he began to bob his head again, half choking on Johnny’s cock, Johnny knew he wasn't going to last much longer.

He didn't know where to put his hands, bunching Price's hair between his fingers, scrubbing them over his beard just to feel the bristles against his fingertips, sliding them down his throat to feel his Adam's apple bob and strain around his cock.

His heels lifted from the floor, toes pushing into the cold concrete, a sharp contrast to the blistering, pulsing heat of his captain's mouth as it milked him. He babbled incoherently, half Scots, half unintelligible English slurred out like a drunk at last orders, delirious with pleasure as saliva and precum pooled around his groin. His thumb stroked over Price's cheeks, pressing to feel the glide of his shaft through them and trace the damp of the tears that tracked from hazy blue eyes.

“Sir, ah’m, sir…” Johnny tried to tug him off because a gentleman didn't cum down a fella’s throat without asking, but Price fucking growled like a wolf having its meal stolen and that was enough to punch Johnny over into a heady climax. “Sir, fuck!” His stomach clenched, toes pushing against the floor as his hips lifted from the chair. Price kept sucking, drinking every drop offered by Johnny’s twitching prick. It coaxed him higher until he was whimpering in fucked out bliss, his fingers shaking in his captain's hair. Just as he was tipping over into oversensitivity, Price pulled off and pressed his face into the sweaty crease of Johnny's thigh, arm moving furiously, hips humping as he fucked his own grip.

“Yeah, g’won, sir, gonna come for me, liked havin’ my prick down ye throat, belly full of my cum.” Johnny stroked Price’s hair and watched his eyes roll back, his shoulders seizing, as he came hard into his fist. He panted between Johnny's legs, catching his breath for a moment, before he slumped back into his heels. Johnny took the opportunity to look down at his prick, still semi-hard, and he sucked in a breath. “Fuck, look at tha’ beast… ye top with tha’ weapon?”

“Only if you ya’sk nicely,” Price rasped. The sound of his throat, fucked raw, made Johnny's soft prick twitch against his thigh.

“How nicely?”

“State secret. S’classified.”

“I’ll steal L.T.’s clearance,” Johnny replied testily, and his hunch was rewarded with a quirk of the eyebrows. “Knew it.”

Price chuckled hoarsely. “Clean up. Got work t’ finish.” He rolled to his feet and for a beautiful moment his cock bobbed close to Johnny’s face. Be seein’ ye soon, sweet thing.

“Can't, ye jus’ sucked me brain out me prick.”

“Now, MacTavish.”

Johnny's mouth clicked shut, and then he mumbled a “yessir” as he pulled his boxers and jeans back up. He'd be lying if he said it was somewhat difficult to focus on the reports for the rest of the evening, especially when he lifted a foot to tease Price's crotch and the bastard spread his legs to give access. Didn't even flinch though. Wily git.

#captain john price #johnny soap mactavish #soapprice #pricesoap

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