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girlygguk · 17 days ago

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WINTER THINGS ⋆ JJK

it’s jungkook’s favorite time of year and the only thing on his list is you. getting to finally feel you, see you, meet you outside of his computer screen. now it’s happening. and, god, you’re even prettier in person.

🦌⋆⁺₊❅. christmas & chill: instalment 6 of 6

pairing jungkook x gf!reader

genre fluff, smut (18+ mdni)

content jk 21 | yn 21, golden retriever bf x black cat gf, long distance established relationship, communications major jk, art & design major oc, they’re both gamers who met online, way too much valorant talk, first time meeting in person, simp jk, down bad jk, loser jk, emotionally reserved oc, but jk makes her feel at Ease, kissing, tiddy sucking, pussy fingering, pussy eating, munch jk

word count 4.8k

banner by the amazing @awrkive ⟡ ݁₊ .

author’s note i actually have sooo much more i could do w this couple but the holidays got in the way and i had to wrap er up 🎁 thank u guys sm for all the love ❤️ hope u had a lovely & merry merry christmas!!! :*

Jungkook didn’t mean to die.

He was mid-round, lurking through a corridor, carefully timing a push when a headshot clipped his ass clean. The disappointed groans of his teammates crackled through his headset, but Jungkook barely noticed. Any other time, he would’ve had the guy first. Easy.

But any other time, he didn’t have his gorgeous girlfriend getting ready right there on his very own phone screen.

Your iPad was propped up against one of your hand-painted jewelry boxes, angled just right to catch you sitting in front of your vanity. From the moment you started your makeup, Jungkook had been distracted. Now, all his attention was on you—completely, helplessly.

You were brushing mascara through your lashes, lips slightly parted as you tilted your head back to reach the roots. A soft breath escaped you, and Jungkook’s hand slackened on his mouse. His fingers twitched as his gaze followed the curve of your pouty lips, the slope of your neck, and the fabric of your winter sweater where it clung to your soft figure.

He shifted in his chair, clearing his throat lightly as the familiar throb in his sweats made itself known. “Shit,” he muttered, tugging at his headset with one hand while the other hovered uselessly over his keyboard.

“Hm?” Your soft, distracted hum broke through the static of his team chat. Your mascara wand hovered mid-swipe as your big eyes flicked toward the camera, your head tilting slightly. “You okay, baby?”

Jungkook scrambled to confirm his mic was off. “Yeah, baby,” he rushed, blinking rapidly as if it might snap him out of the daze he’d fallen into. “You look so pretty.”

Your lips curved faintly, but your attention had already drifted back to your reflection. “Thank you,” you murmured, leaning closer to the mirror to perfect the flick of your eyeliner. Jungkook didn’t respond. He just sat there, helpless, watching you like you were the only thing in his world. And you were.

His match was long forgotten, his fingers frozen on his mouse as he soaked in the sight of you framed by the soft purple glow of your LED lights. Dressed in that dark red sweater, getting ready for a friend dinner, you were miles away from him, and still, he felt like he could reach out and fucking touch you.

Three days. Three more days and then he’d finally be on a plane, finally getting to seeing you in person. The thought made his belly rumble with excitement.

It had taken over a year to get here. To go from the quiet, indifferent girl who solo-queued Valorant lobbies to the girlfriend who now wore his hoodies that he sent her in the mail because they smelled like him.

He could still remember the first time he met you. That random day during last winter break when he and his best friend Yoongi had been running games all day and decided to play one more before calling it a night.

You were in that game.

You barely said a word, only responding if spoken to, only comming when absolutely necessary. You were focused, unfazed as you carried the entire team through the match.

Jungkook had always been a hopeless simp. But with you, it was something else entirely. From the moment he heard your sweet, honeyed voice carrying a tone that made it clear you couldn’t give a fuck less about him... yeah, he was a goner.

That game, he’d pushed too far, not expecting the two opponents waiting around the corner. You had been lurking behind Jungkook and killed both enemies before they could even touch him. Your voice was calm, detached, as you told him to follow you.

And he did. Of course he did.

He could still hear the confused hum you’d let out into the mic when he froze on B site, waiting for further instructions from you. As if this wasn’t the second highest rank in the entire game. As if he hadn’t sunk hours into perfecting his gameplay.

“Plant the spike...” you’d said, the slightest hint of frustration in your voice.

Yoongi had laughed. Jungkook had blushed.

“JJ?”

You were propping your iPad against the edge of your drawer now, stepping back from the screen. Jungkook blinked, his brain stuttering as you came into full view. You were wearing a short black skirt paired with the same sweater that had been driving him insane since the moment you pulled it on and let him watch. The hem of the skirt swished lightly as you twirled, tilting your head as you gestured toward yourself.

“Do you like it?” you asked, turning to show how the fabric skimmed over your upper thighs.

Jungkook stared, his big doe eyes wide and dazed. He nodded quickly as heat climbed the back of his neck.

Your lips curved into a soft smile. “I’ll take that as a very much,” you teased, turning back toward the dresser. You reached for a bracelet, the soft jingle filling the silence as Jungkook tried to scrape together a coherent thought.

“You’re beautiful,” he managed finally, as his fingers flexed restlessly on his desk. “So pretty, baby. What time will you be home?”

You glanced back at the camera, your expression softening. “Thank you, honey,” you said, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist. “Probably around ten? I’ll call you when I’m back.”

Jungkook nodded instantly, his lips lifting into a broad smile as he watched you lean down to slip on your Docs. “Three days,” he chirped.

Your smile deepened, that rare, quiet smile he’d spent months trying to pull from you. “I know, baby,” you said softly, your tone warm as you slipped on your other shoe. “I’m very excited.”

“Me too.” His grin broadened, his cheeks warm and flushed as he flicked his team chat off entirely, ignoring the sound of his teammates yelling at him for going idle. “So excited, baby.”

You picked up your phone, tucking it into your bag before glancing at your iPad one last time. Your soft smile lingered as you said, “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay, baby,” Jungkook replied softly with a dumb smile.

You blinked down at your device, gaze raking over your boyfriend’s pretty, dazed face before a light laugh escaped your lips. “I love you, JJ.”

His eyes widened, and he almost smacked his forehead for nearly letting you go without saying his favorite three words. “I love you more, baby. Have fun.”

Jungkook watched until the call ended, leaving him staring at his reflection in the black screen of his phone.

Three days. Three more days.

Your fingers tapped idly against the side of your phone, clenched tightly in your hand. Your gaze flicked quietly around your surroundings as your free hand fiddled with the hem of your jacket. You glanced down once more to double-check the text he had sent ten minutes ago.

just landed baby ❤️ waiting for my luggage

You had responded with your exact location by the pickup terminals, a message he had heart-reacted to almost immediately. He shouldn’t be too far now.

Still, the minutes felt endless. You brushed an invisible speck of dust off your black mini dress, your fingers moving to tug at an imaginary thread on your sheer stockings.

Then the sound of a bag dropping beside you jolted you. You spun on your heel and came face to face with the boy who had taken over your life for the past year.

Jungkook stood less than an inch away, a blue puffer jacket shaping his broad frame as the widest grin split across his face. His hair was fluffy, pushed back just enough to reveal his soft forehead, and his big doe eyes sparkled as they took you in.

Your heart lurched, and before you knew it, you were smiling wider than you thought you ever would. Then you were moving. Your hands slid to the sides of his neck, pulling him down into a kiss before you could think to stop yourself.

Jungkook melted instantly. A soft groan escaped him as his hands slipped beneath your unzipped jacket, gripping your sides to pull you flush against him. His lips were warm, pressing slowly against yours—soft, sweet, perfect. Just like him.

When you pulled back, his brow creased slightly, and his lips instinctively chased yours. You didn’t deny him, letting him press another kiss to your mouth. Then another. And one more. His lips lingered, each kiss slow and gentle, leaving your eyes closed and your heart racing.

When he finally pulled back, it was with a soft inhale against your lips before he grinned again. “Hi, baby.”

You smiled at the sound of him out of breath, and when Jungkook opened his eyes, his heart stuttered at the sight of it. It was so much prettier in person.

“Hi, JJ. Merry Christmas Eve.”

Your apartment was quiet as you unlocked the door and flicked on the light switch. Jungkook followed closely behind, his gaze sweeping over the room as you led him in.

The walls were dotted with your paintings—abstract swirls of color, faces, little scenes that made him smile. He even recognized a few pieces from your video calls—the tiny clay bunny on your coffee table, the stack of notebooks filled with sketches you showed him if he begged cutely enough.

Jungkook grinned as he stepped further inside, dropping his bag on the ground near the entryway while you shut the door behind him. He toed off his sneakers next to the mat as you leaned down to unzip one of your boots, your fingers fumbling a little with the zipper. You wobbled.

Straight into him.

Jungkook caught you immediately, his hands firm as they wrapped around your sides. His heart stuttered in time with your misstep, his chest tightening as your loosely curled hair spilled toward him, brushing over your shoulder. You looked up at him, your voice soft as you murmured, “sorry.”

He barely heard it. You were so close, he could smell you—the warm, sweet honey scent of your skin mixed with a perfume that reminded him of dark berries.

“You smell so good.”

You’ve straightened now, fully upright as you met his gaze. His hands still lingered under your jacket, the heat of his palms seeping through the thin fabric of your dress.

“Yeah?” he asked softly, his smile faint and dreamy.

His eyes dropped to your lips. Glossy, the faint sheen of lip balm somehow still intact despite all the kisses he had stolen in the back of the Uber when the driver wasn’t looking.

“Yeah,” you confirmed quietly, your lashes lowering as your gaze traced his features, taking him in like you were seeing him for the first time.. “Smell just like the hoodies,” you murmured, “but better. Stronger.”

Jungkook swallowed hard, his touches growing greedier. His hands slid a little lower down your sides as he leaned toward you, his pretty nose brushing yours.

“Did you bring more?” you asked, your words a soft breath against his mouth.

“Yeah,” he replied with a nod, his lips hovering so close you could almost taste them. “Three. Is that enough?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, and then you couldn’t wait anymore. You closed the gap.

Your hands slipped up to wrap around his neck, and Jungkook let out a soft noise that vibrated into your mouth. His hands slid further under your jacket, palms pressing firmly against your waist as he pulled you flush against his body. His lips parted against yours, and when your tongues brushed, the softest, sweetest sound escaped you. Ssstraight to his cock.

Your fingers twisted into the back of his hair, and Jungkook groaned pathetically into the kiss. His hands slid down from your hips to the back of your thighs, lifting you to wrap your legs around him. When your tongue lapped his again, your head tilting to taste more of him, the whimpery noise he let out was pitiful. You loved it.

Neither of you spared a thought for the boot that slipped from your foot as he carried you until your back met the door with a soft thump. The kiss was messy, noisy, desperate as you both moaned into each other’s mouths. It felt like you were making up for all the nights apart, all the times you had to settle for fucking yourselves over FaceTime, getting off together but never really together.

Your mouth broke away from his, your head falling back against the door as you panted softly. Jungkook didn’t miss a beat, his lips eagerly brushing along your jaw as his hips pressed forward. The hard line of his cock rubbed against your pussy through the denim of his jeans, pulling a shaky breath from your lips.

“I can’tt, baby,” he murmured, his voice strained, whiny if you will. His hips rolled again as his hands gripped you tighter. “You’re so soft. Smell so good. I fucking can’t.”

“Why are you holding back?” you breathed, your voice trembly as your hips ground against him, forcing a choked sound from his lips. “We’ve been so patient, honey... You can have it now.”

Jungkook cursed under his breath before his mouth was back on yours, needy as he licked into you, relishing in the sounds you gave him. His greedy hands roamed, sliding under the hem of your dress, up the soft skin of your thighs, until they landed where your stockings ended. Your ass.

This fucking ass.

The ass he's stared at so many times through so many screens. The ass he's watched jiggle just a little as he jerked his cock while you held a vibrator to your clit, your hips shaking as you came for him. The ass he's praised and admired in all the pairs of panties you tried on just for him—ones he had ordered for you, or ones you bought yourself, saying you had another haul to show him if he wanted to see.

If he wanted to see? God, it was like you didn’t even know him sometimes.

He's fantasised about this ass more times than he could fucking count. And now, it was in his handsss.

Jungkook’s grip tightened, his fingers digging into the fatty flesh as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Your nails scraped lightly against the nape of his neck, swallowing his little whine as you grinded harder against his crotch.

“Fuckk, baby,” he breathed against your tongue, arms tightening around your bum to lift you off the wall. This time he carried you to the couch with hurried steps, your jacket slipping further from your shoulders with each movement.

When he reached the couch, he laid you down gently, his hands lingering on your waist as he hovered above you. His chest rose and fell in rapid pants, his lips red and swollen. He sat back on his knees, dragging a hand through his messy hair, the glow of his flushed skin making him look unreal. For a moment you wonder if this really was happening. If he really was here.

You sat up slightly, shrugging off your jacket and tossing it to the ground as Jungkook’s hands found your remaining boot. He tugged at the zipper, easing it off your foot before tossing it to join the growing pile of clothes on your fuzzy, multicolored rug—the rug he mentally noted to tell you he really likes when you two were done.

His gaze flicked to yours briefly before he grabbed the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head. The fabric caught slightly at the back of his neck, making him huff softly before it joined the pile. So cute.

Your eyes immediately dropped to his broad chest, and a teasing smile curled your lips as your gaze caught on his nipples, the small, dark buds already hardening from the slight chill of your flat. You couldn’t help it; you’d always had a fascination with them—something he learned quickly during your video calls that turned dirtier, filthier, the more you did them.

Jungkook caught your look, his lips parting as his chest rose in shallow breaths. “Don’ttt, baby,” he grumbled, a flush spreading from his neck to his round cheeks.

You just smirked, leaning back against the couch, letting him take you in. Your dress was gone, leaving you in nothing but your bra, panties, and the cute little red-and-green anklet socks you’d worn under your stockings. For some reason, they made his cock swell even harder in his pants.

What? He loves Christmas...

Jungkook leaned down to find your lips, his hands pressing into the cushion on either side of you. His body slotted perfectly between your legs, his hips grinding into yours as he groaned softly into your mouth. You could feel his cock harden against you, pressing deeper into your warm core, and a moan slipped out, legs tightening around his waist.

His lips trailed down, kissing along your jaw, then your neck, stopping at the hollow of your throat to suck. His gaze dropped further, locking on your chest. He stilled, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his throat bobbed with a hard swallow.

“Godd,” he muttered, his voice thick with pure awe. His eyes flicked up to yours briefly, pupils blown. “You’re so fucking…”

But he couldn’t even finish. Instead, he leaned down, his lips brushing the tops of your boobs as his fingers found the clasp of your bra. He unhooked it hastily, the straps sliding down your arms before he pulled it away, tossing it to the ground with a fucking gulp.

Jungkook exhaled heavily through his nose, his eyes drinking in every bit of your soft, bare skin. He wanted to ask if he could take a picture... but that thought could wait. God, it had to wait.

“Fuckkk,” he said again, this time louder, a soft groan escaping his lips. A quiet laugh escaped yours in response as his head dipped right down.

He kissed the swell of your breast, his big, warm tongue flicking out to circle your nipple slowly. His pouty lips closed around it, suckling softly, and he let out the most whimpery sound you’d ever heard from him—and your boyfriend had made a lot of those.

His hand cupped your other breast, his thumb brushing over the hardening bud before rolling it gently between his fingers. A quiet whine slipped from your lips, your back arching as his tongue swirled and flicked. His mouth grew hungrier, movements more eager as he switched sides, long fingers kneading the plush flesh while he nipped, licked, and lapped.

Your chest rose and fell rapidly, pushing more of your boob into his mouth, which he accepted with a happy choke. Your breaths came faster, your hands tangling into his hair as he detached from your nipple with a soft pop. Wet kisses trailed lower, across your ribs, down your soft stomach. His lips brushed over the flesh there, his tongue darting out for a little taste, before he reached waistband of your panties.

He glanced up at you with wet eyes and shiny lips, a soft flush painting his cheeks. His fingers hooked into the lace of your panties, quickly pulling them down. The air against your core made you shiver, and Jungkook groaned softly at the way your hole clenched in response to the cold.

His hands adjusted your thighs on either side of his head, ensuring you were comfy, and when you smiled down at him, he beamed back before pressing a little kiss to your inner thigh and dipping down.

The first swipe of his tongue was slow, dragging right up your folds before circling your clit lightly. Your thighs tensed immediately, a little cry spilling from your lips as your hands clutched tighter into his hair.

He groaned into you as his hands spread your thighs wider, holding them open against the couch when they treatened to close. His tongue moved with one goal, dragging down and back up, his throat bobbing as he swallowed every drop of slick you were making for him.

“Sh-shit, baby,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as his mouth closed over your clit, sucking noisily. “Shittttt, JJ—”

You couldn’t finish the thought. The way Jungkook switched between licking and sucking, his big nose pressing firmly against your clit, made any coherent words evaporate. He buried himself deeper into your pussy, breathing you in as he ate. Like, literal deep inhales. You could feel them.

Your hips bucked up instinctively, a movement that pulled a surprised, happy whine from his throat. He dragged his tongue down, dipping it into your little clenching hole, before sliding it back up to circle your clit with eager, sloppy flicks. Your jaw tilted up, your head pressing harder into the couch cushion as the pleasure bloomed in your belly, your thighs trembling on either side of his head.

“Is it fucked that this is exactly what I thought it would taste like?” Jungkook mumbled through his mouthful. He pulled back just enough to breathe the words, his pretty mouth and chin glistening, tongue darting out again, lapping at your slick like he couldn’t fucking stop. “It’s so fucking good, Y/n. God, have you tried this, baby?”

A sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan slipped from your lips, your head falling back again as your fingers twisted into his hair. “Baby, please,” you started, your voice shaky as your hips jerked up again, “shut u—uhhhh.”

The last part of your sentence dissolved into a grunt as Jungkook slipped a thick middle finger inside you, curling it just, stroking your walls while he suckled at your clit. He whined at the feeling of your plushy walls coating his finger, his big tongue lapping up and down while pumping the digit deeper.

When he pushed it in to the knuckle, the throatiest, loudest moan tore from your lips, and Jungkook moaned right the fuck back, his lips vibrating around your clit as his eyes fluttered shut. He felt the spongy plush of your g-spot with the tip of his finger, and he swears to fuck his cock started to cry.

His hips shifted against the couch as his big eyes watched your hole clench around his digit. “Woahh, baby,” he mumbled, his voice thick with wonder. “So pretty. Pictured my fingers in your pussy so many times. This is crazyyy, baby.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “You’re really cute, JJ. But I’ve been waiting for this for a year... Let’s cum first, and then we can talk about how crazy it all is, okay, honey?”

Your hands tugged harder at his hair, knowing how much he liked it from the times you’d discussed kinks and likes over phone calls. Jungkook practically purred at the sting and your words. He didn’t think he’d ever agreed with something more in his entire life.

When he added a second finger, the stretch made you fucking shudder. His fingers were so long, so thick, filling you so well that your thighs clamped around him instantly. He didn’t mind—he loved it, in fact. His moan vibrated wetly against your cunt as he spread his fingers slightly, fucking them into your hole harder.

“Fuckkk yes, babyy,” you whimpered, your back arching off the couch. Your hands tugged at his hair, your hips grinding against his face as your stomach tightened. “That’s itttt, baby. That’s fucking it.”

“Mmmmf,” he moaned, his tongue flicking over your slippery clit as his fingers pumped in and out, the wet squelch of your juices echoing as he lapped them up eagerly.

Your breath hitched, your moans morphing into sharp little cries as his hand tilted just slightly, the angle of his fingers brushing your puffy spot every fucking time.

“Fuck, JJ, fuck, fuck, fuckkk—”

He pulled you closer with his free hand, gripping your soft thigh as his tongue worked faster, licking and munching at your cunt like he hadn’t eaten all day.

“Baby,” you cried, your head tipping back. “I’m sorry, JJ, I—I’m gonna cummm, fuckkk! I’m sorr—yyyyy!” Your words dissolved into a high pitched squeal as your body convulsed, your pussy pressing desperately against his face. The orgasm hit you like a fucking truck, leaving you trembling and shaking into the couch.

Jungkook whined greedily at the feeling of you clenching tightly around his fingers, the fluttering grip making him thrust against the cushion for relief. He pushed his fingers as far into you as they could go, curling them up inside to drag every last bit of pleasure while his mouth suctioned hard around your throbbing clit. He followed your pussy as it quivered and tried to escape the stimulation, his throat bobbing happily as he swallowed all your slick.

His fingers slowed, his tongue moving gently as he lapped up everything, your hips jerking softly against his face, which made him smile cutely.

When you finally stilled, your breathing uneven, he pulled back with a little pop. His lips and chin were soaked, his hair a mess from where your hands had tugged at it, but his eyes were so bright. He licked his lips, a cute bunny grin spreading across his face as he looked up at you.

“Can’t believe you apologized for cumming, baby. That was so hot.”

You were both sitting on the floor next to the little Christmas tree Jungkook had helped you put together—your first Christmas tree ever.

Your parents weren’t ones to celebrate the holidays, and the season had always felt like a chore, something to just get through. But your boyfriend loved it, and he had a way of making you like things you didn’t think you cared about before.

The heater was cranked high, both of you showered and warm, now dressed in the matching Christmas pajamas Jungkook had bought for you guys in his hometown. The living room smelled like cinnamon from the gingerbread cookies you’d baked earlier, another absolute must Jungkook insisted on for the holidays.

It was all very cute. The mess, the lack of an apron, the flour smudged across his cheek that he didn’t notice. He looked so happy, his face bright as he popped a misshapen cookie into his mouth and declared it perfect. He was right. It was perfect.

Now, you're plopping a wrapped gift into his lap, curling your knees to your chest as you watched him with wide eyes. He grinned down at the box, his fingers brushing over the carefully taped edges before looking back at you.

“Baby, it’s so heavy. You went over budget, didn’t you?” he asked. “That’s okay—I did too.” He rambled on giddily, and you stayed quiet, maybe a little nervous, as his eager hands tore open the paper.

And then, for the first time since you’d met the rambly boy, he went silent.

Your gaze swept over his face, your hand lifting to tuck a piece of damp hair behind your ear as you tried to gauge his reaction. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes flicking down to the gift in his lap—a framed painting, the one you’d spent weeks working on in secret.

The longer the silence stretched, the more your nerves prickled. Then, his eyes started to well.

“Honey, it’s not meant to be a sad paint—”

“I know, baby!” he cried, his voice trembling as he sniffled. He set the painting gently on the floor before surging forward, pulling you into his lap.

“JJ,” you cooed through a laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck as he buried his face in your shoulder. His wet hair tickled your skin as you kissed his cheek. “You like it?”

“I love it so fucking much,” he mumbled into your neck, his voice thick. “Oh my god, I love it so much. You fucking painted me? Are you kidding me? Fuck my gift! Oh, fuck it! This is the best thing I’ve ever gotten. I look like such a shitty, thoughtless boyfriend now. Fucking paintbrushes, oh for fucks—”

“Baby,” you scolded gently, your lips brushing his temple. His arms only tightened around you. “I love your gift so much. Remember? I almost cried… You pointed it out.”

He sniffled, leaning back just enough to look at you, his eyes wide and glassy. “Swear?”

“Swear, my love.” You nodded, running a hand through his damp curls. “I’m only going to use them exclusively when I paint you from now on.”

Jungkook’s head snapped up, his eyes widening a little. Then he pouted, his wet lashes batting at you as you kissed him softly on the lips. “I know you’re joking,” he muttered, “but that kind of turns me on.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled, your arms looping tighter around his neck as you pressed another peck to his pout. “Merry Christmas, JJ.”

His lips pulled into a big bunny grin, fingers spread over the small of your back. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

aaaaand that is IT for christmas & chill!!! aside from the breakdowns and delays on my part (who’s surprised Not me), i’ve had sooo much fun and will forever cherish this series. not just because it helped me connect w so many of you sweetiepies over the holiday period, but because it brought me closer to you, my piccola @lovieku. we all have u and ur beautiful, polymath mind to thank for c&c. love you baby

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diqldrunks · 25 days ago

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snap out of it — max verstappen

requests are open! send me anything!! [nav | inbox]

a/n: i love max so much i want to bite him — hope you like part one!

content: rivals to lovers, reader is in a crappy relationship, red bull!reader, there’s a little time skip!!

ignore the dates being in jan, it should be december!! part two is here

messages

instagram

yourusername just posted!

liked by maxverstappen, user 1 and 32,628 others

yourusername ✓ having a solo date <3

2,726 comments…

user2 cutie!!

user3 solo dates aren’t for people in a long term relationship babes?!

user4 she can go on a solo date if she wants to 💀

user5 so um where’s her boyfriend who’s supposed to be taking her on dates?

user6 you’re foul 😭😭

user3 THIS IS WHAT I WAS SAYING

user7 he hasn’t even liked the post 💀 he makes it so easy to call him out as a shit boyfriend (liked by maxverstappen)

user8 fr he always looks so annoyed at y/n just being near him

user8 tfw your teammate/rival likes your instagram post but your boyfriend of 3 years doesn’t: 😆 (liked by maxverstappen)

user9 maxy/n for the win

user10 he probably spends more time with her than nathan

user11 NOT MAX BEING MESSY WITH THE LIKES-

[time skip]

twitter

instagram

gridnewsf1 just posted!

liked by yourusername, user23 and 42,363 others

gridnewsf1 ✓ Max Verstappen has spoken out against his teammate’s boyfriend, Nathan Reed. Reed, a reserve driver for Ferrari’s F1 team has been dating Y/n L/n for almost three years after being in F2 together.

Reed publicly agreed with Sky Sports Commentator Danica Patricks after she stated it was not as ‘natural’ for women to be an F1 driver compared to men; tweeting, after Patricks began receiving backlash, that “different genders have different capabilities, and it is a fact that a man’s capabilities are higher than females.” Y/n L/n is yet to comment.

Verstappen, after a reporter asked if he believed this to be true regarding L/n, answered “I think it’s ridiculous that either [Patricks or Reed] can be saying that — Nathan especially. It sounds like a bitter mediocre man child is upset that a woman is doing his dream job, much better than he ever could.“ He then continued, saying “men like these aren’t ones you want to be dating.”

Twitter users have commented that they believe Verstappen and Reed have always bad blood between them, using the last slide as a reference (Verstappen after spotting Reed in the Red Bull garage)

9,636 comments…

user24 DAMN

user25 he popped off fr

user26 Y/N LIKING THIS? IS THIS THE END OF NATHAN??

user27 I THINK YOU’RE RIGHT

this could’ve been done like an hour earlier than it was but i got distracted looking at max photos on pinterest

max taglist; @see-me-wilding @forzacharlie16 @pastryfication @i-wanna-study @popsycles @iambored24601 @persephone-haven @eclipsedcherry @reidsworld @sepptember @angstynasty

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prismit · 2 years ago

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gaming youtubers should stop trying to be funny and go back to just having a good time with their friends while screen recording

#ghost town... 2!#i don't mean this super seriously btw lol; i don't have a problem with content that feels like it was made to entertain an audience #but i just love watching videos that feel genuine. friends being idiots in terraria and making each other laugh #instead of trying to have “good gameplay” or “good commentary”. just people having fun and sharing that with the world #it's nice :) obviously not as easy to do solo though. i'm just talking about people who make videos with friends here

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kumkaniudaku · 2 months ago

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Spoiled

Summary: Tensions boil over on the Thanksgiving trip to New Orleans.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,060

Warnings: Smut (18+ content)

Previous: Sorry 2024

“Where’s Treece?”

Terry couldn’t care less but entertained the question for his mother’s sake as he took the seat closest to the window at their reserved table for a late breakfast.

“In the room pouting,” He grumbled with his annoyed glare focused solely on the breakfast menu. “She’ll be down eventually. Or not. I don’t know or care.”

Marvin chuckled over his mug of coffee. “I’m not all that convinced, son, but I’ll let you have it.”

As much as they were lovers, Terry and Patrice were friends who bickered like siblings. Petty back and forths reared their ugly heads at inopportune moments, leading to heated, silent arguments. A refusal to raise their voices at each other out of respect resulted in hushed whispers and sarcastic jabs that were so ridiculous to those not involved that Terry’s parents often referred to them as live telenovelas.

Their latest episode was the most trivial to date.

Separate families stationed in conflicting parts of the country forced the newest Richmond couple to compromise on how they split their holiday schedule. With a family known for their culinary pursuits, Terry naturally claimed Thanksgiving for his side. Although she couldn’t bear the thought of missing her Nana’s fresh apple pie, Patrice compromised with the caveat that their New Year’s plans were neutral ground for them and them alone. Handshake and lip lock agreements set them on a path to plan for the final six weeks of the year.

For all of his careful planning, Terry didn’t anticipate how his wife’s commitment to the pupils under her care would collide with his plans to spend extended time in New Orleans.

“Baby, it’s just two days.” He explained to Patrice while he helped clear the table after dinner one evening. “I’ll get you on the first flight out Wednesday morning. Promise.”

“I know, but still. I’m gonna miss you. We’re not apart that often.”

“We’ll make it worth the wait once you get there.”

Repeated promises to steal some alone time once reunited preceded quick kisses as Terry prepared to join his parents and siblings on a flight early Monday morning. But, once the sun set on their first day apart in months, loneliness and frustration set in for Patrice. Text messages slowed to a creep. Sparse voice notes attempted to fill the void left in their near-silent home. She wasn’t mad at Terry for enjoying time with his loved ones. She was pissed at herself for being so lovesick that her stomach churned. Sickening. This type of yearning was sickening.

Excitement took a backseat to unshakeable irritability on her solo flight to the Big Easy on Wednesday morning. No hugs, kisses, or meaningful conversation for 48 hours could send even the most solitary person over the edge. Terry sent messages in droves to share his excitement for her arrival and she fought the urge to snap back at him. His smiling face greeting her at the hotel’s front entrance briefly soothed her ire until the reality that they couldn’t shake his family’s company set in.

Every private conversion came with an intrusion. Kisses meant to go further than a quick peck were interrupted before they could start. Attempts at sneaking away never came to fruition. Soon, Patrice’s sour attitude became Terry’s disposition. He knew his anger was misdirected, but couldn’t find the words to explain his annoyance.

They didn’t speak before bed Wednesday night and barely looked at each other Thursday morning. One angry Richmond was enough. Two made everyone uncomfortable.

“It’s time for breakfast, Treece.” What Terry intended as an innocent reminder came out as a gruff bark that he couldn’t take back before Patrice opened her mouth to respond.

“I know! I can see the time!”

“Then hurry up!”

“Fuck it! I’ll eat by myself!”

“Fine!”

Their silly exchange ended with Terry tossing the second hotel key on the bed before he stomped out of the room, allowing the door to slam behind him.

The moment replayed in his head as he scanned the menu for something they could share in case she made her way out of self-imposed solitary confinement.

“Well, I hope she makes it down. I wanted her to try a few things,” DeeDee added, unaware that the entire conversation was pushing her son to his limits. “The French toast is something.”

Terry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, if you can get her off the third floor, do whatever you please.”

“She’s probably happy to have you out of her back pocket. My girl can’t catch a break,” Zorah teased.

Zanah laughed and shook her head. “You haven’t seen Patrice. I swear she was trying to climb into his skin when the elevator doors opened last night. They’re equally insane.”

“See what happens when you end up in grown folks’ business?”

“Oh, please.”

Zanah childishly stuck out her tongue and received a middle finger pulled out of his hoodie’s front pocket as a prize for her antics.

“Stop it, you two.”

“I thought when y’all became adults all this shit would slow up,” Marvin groaned, shaking his head as his two stubborn children traded schoolyard insults just short of joking about each other’s mama. Movement in his periphery offered what he hoped was a change of pace. “Oh thank God. The guest of honor is here.”

Patrice offered a weak wave and smile upon her approach, hoping they couldn’t see the remnants of a frustrated cry on her face. Terry could, though. He flashed her a concerned look and she answered with eyes that begged him not to inquire further. A round of hugs and greetings sent her to the empty seat across from her husband.

The friction between them was palpable. They didn’t extend each other the luxury of pet names and googly-eyed grins like they normally would. Time spent canoodling was replaced by stolen glances and tight-lipped requests to pass over utensils.

DeeDee cleared her throat for their attention. “Um, hi. Mom checking in here. Is there a problem between you two that we should be aware of?”

“No,” Patrice answered loud enough to eclipse whatever Terry attempted to share. “We’re fine. James is not feeling very affectionate this morning for reasons unknown, but we’re fine outside of that. Right, James? Just fine, huh?”

“Peachy. Nicole is throwing a tantrum over God knows what but Nicole refuses to say more than three words to me at a time, so, while I love Nicole, I will not spend my morning chasing her around because Nicole is not a child and can use her words.”

Terry’s rant came through gritted teeth, leaving him almost out of breath as he neared the end.

Patrice couldn’t formulate a rebuttal despite wanting to take their spat to the next level. She could only hang on to the firmness in his tone, the words sounding more like a warning than an explanation for their distance. Terry caught the flicker of something mischievous in her eyes and how she slowly crossed her legs beneath the table before grazing her foot against his clothed calf. His frown faltered for a moment. An unspoken understanding was telepathically communicated.

Four sets of eyes stared back at the standoff in utter confusion.

Zanah took a loud sip of water to snap them out of their trance. “Oh-kay. So, I was thinking about gettin’ this crawfish omelet. Daddy, you oughta get the quesadilla so I can get a piece of that and, Zo, you get the Benny.”

“But I don’t wanna share my food with you.”

“Zorah! We are twins. We share!”

Chatter about seafood dressing and late-night spades tournaments planned for the rest of the day swirled around Terry and Patrice as they maintained senseless anger, too committed to the misunderstanding to relent without feeling embarrassed.

The quiet simmer of mixed emotions followed them after tabs were paid, cocktails were consumed, and the elevator lifting them to the third floor was emptied of spectating parties. Terry pretended to type into his phone while sneaking looks at the way Patrice’s ass sat up in her leggings.

“You wanna talk when we get in or what?”

Patrice turned to look over her shoulder. “We can.” Her eyes caught the slow lick of his bottom lip before flickering back up to find him already watching her. “If you want.”

“Good. I’m tired of the attitude.”

“Great because I’m tired of yours.”

Having a civil discussion became a background thought once the soft buzz and click of their room door put them seconds away from the privacy they so desperately craved.

Terry covertly slid the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside handle before double-checking the deadbolt lock and metal latch. Patrice busied herself with the television remote, turning a rerun of CSI: Miami up to a reasonable volume. Just enough to drown out an explosive meeting of minds or bodies.

“Ready?” Terry questioned as he pulled his hoodie up, then over his head to deposit it on the back of the nearby desk chair. “We only have an hour or so before we need to head out.”

“I think we can settle this pretty quick. Don’t you?”

“Depends. I got a lot to say.”

They watched each other step out of their shirts, socks, and pants, still pretending that some relationship chat was on the other side of their time together.

Down to thin layers of underwear and insatiable desire, they met for skin-to-skin contact. Patrice set a pace that only Terry could match. Frantic hands gripped broad shoulders to hike one long leg around his waist. Heavy hands found a home beneath round ass for a full sensory experience.

Patrice pulled away from a messy kiss for a deep enough breath to bark instructions at her phone for a 15-minute timer. The race was on. Friction would either bring a resolution or be why they found common ground.

Words were hard to come by during a hungry heavy-petting period. Shared breaths and wandering hands communicated every need, peeling away the last barriers that kept them separated. Touch me like this. Kiss me there. I need you here.

Soon, the itchy hotel carpet pressed into the delicate skin of Patrice’s knees while she looked up at a clenched jaw and flexed abs. She wanted to feel him grow to all of his glory inside her mouth, and he was happy to oblige her request. A fist full of knotless braids kept Terry feeling like he had control of the situation, though they both knew the truth.

Gagging and gawking provided a filthy auditory masterpiece that he hoped to remember for as long as he lived. Curses meant as praise fueled her performance as she pressed crescent moons into his thighs to remain stable. Her lash extensions drooped under the weight of alligator tears. Her jaw ached from being stretched to capacity over and over. Her thighs burned from her kneeling position. None of the discomforts could deter her from the goal.

Terry gently placed a warm palm on Patrice’s cheek, admiring her work with a hazy smile. “Missed me, huh?” he breathed out, earning a grin.

“Mhmmm.”

“I missed you, too. Come here.”

“Missed” was an understatement. A flat-out lie. He was just as needy, just as excited to be inside her, just as ready to abandon demure social norms to unleash the lust and love brewing inside as she was.

An indescribable pleasure emerged from using and being used. No holds barred. Unrestrained aside from muffled groans unleashed into crisp white pillowcases and skin slick with fresh sweat.

Terry kept Patrice’s chest pressed into the bed with one hand splayed between her shoulder blades and the other tangled at her roots. She fisted the sheets to keep a grip on the bed and reality while her eyes went in and out of focus. An open mouth produced choked squeaks between sharp breaths. She listened to her name roll from her lover’s lips like a sonnet written just for her.

He was close. His body tensed with every stroke. Sweet talk broke into throaty groans. Hips lost their rhythm as they sought deeper connection. It was a good angle, but Patrice knew it could be better. It had to get better. This had to be worth it. Who knew when they’d have the chance to fuck each other senseless in the city they made their first commitment to rekindle an almost forgotten flame?

“Let me see you,” Patrice moaned, her head turned just enough to get Terry’s attention. “Please. I wanna see your face.”

Exhausted limbs shifted and reconnected at the head of the bed, dragging linens along with them. Patrice propped her body on one elbow to shorten the distance between their faces before pulling Terry into a kiss by the back of his head. He was equally tender and possessive, leading with full lips and a tongue eager to taste the remnants of juice and syrup left inside her mouth.

Then came fingers. Patrice replaced her swollen lips with her middle and ring digits in search of lubrication for other pursuits. The dull ache between her legs needed concentrated attention to reach the promised land. Terry didn’t need further direction. He did as he was told with a gaze just playful enough to convey that he knew what was up. He couldn’t wait to witness what she had in store.

Their foreheads pressed together as they focused on the slow, lazy circles Patrice drew on her pearl. Terry added his contribution according to her pace, drawing in and out so dazed that he wouldn’t have been able to repeat his name if prompted.

His brow furrowed to match his effort. “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

He meant his compliment for his wife though he spoke the words to the body responsible for his glee in the moment. She giggled and threw her head back like a cowgirl to enjoy the ride.

Terry readjusted his angle to chase her lips as a familiar tingle set in. His arms hooked one leg at the bend of her knee before pressing forward on one hand for leverage to drive faster. Harder.

They were close again, each chasing an individual high harder and faster than before.

Patrice tried to play innocent as her sultry voice egged him on with seemingly innocuous statements. “You’re so good to me, baby. What did I do to deserve you, hm?”

He tried to slow down, tried to prolong the moment despite his hips driving forward with more and more power. Patrice licked and kissed the shell of his ear to egg him on.

“Don’t hold back, Terrence. I’m all yours.”

A whimper escaped past his lips before a simple concession speech. “Oh…fuck.”

An unraveling. Muffling broken words against lips curled into a triumphant smile, Terry came undone with his eyes clamped shut to see colors dance behind closed lids. Her orgasm crashing in wasn’t enough for Patrice to break eye contact. She stared back the entire time, mouth opened and eyes transfixed in a devious stare under low eyelids. She didn’t want to miss a moment of his chest heaving, arms tensing, and hips bucking to deliver her the perfect body high she could get without drugs. Earth-shattering, thigh-quaking releases had their place, no doubt. They could never replace the sensation of falling more in love with every electric shockwave brought forth by the love of her life.

Terry floated back into reality feeling lightheaded, stress-free, and searching for sweet kisses to cap off filthy deeds.

“Baby, you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” he joked before pressing three quick pecks to Patrice’s lips. “Spoiled and gorgeous.”

She giggled along with him. “If that’s true, why haven’t I been able to get rid of you yet.”

“Because I like you like that. You think I do all this for you to be normal?”

Light laughter and yet another round of theme song guitar synths rang out as they disconnected and found rest cuddled atop crumpled sheets. Patrice shifted to place her chest on top of Terry’s and traced her index finger along his beautiful cheekbones.

“We’re playing with fire, TJ. I know you got the notification about this week being risky.”

“Don’t act like I was the one throwing a tantrum this morning.”

“A tantrum is strong, okay! A tiny meltdown, maybe.” The sudden ring of her long-forgotten alarm cut their laughter short and drew attention to the nightstand. “Right on time.” Patrice stretched across Terry to handle the distraction, drawing his physical attention as he caressed and dropped kisses along her hip. She came back to him and kissed both of his lips separately. “Sorry for being a bitch. I’m working on it.”

“Ask for what you want next time. It’s yours. I’m yours,” He answered as he pushed a few stray braids over her shoulder.

“Use my words?”

“Use your words.”

“I need more kisses. Or I'll melt. You wouldn't let me melt, right?”

Amorous feelings were back on the rise as they shared a slow, relaxed kiss unfit for two people on a tight schedule.

Patrice pulled a way first to nuzzle her nose against Terry’s. “D’you wanna shower with me? It’s okay if you don’t. I just…need to spend a little more time together.”

She was bashful, almost refusing to look him in the face as if asking him to bathe together was somehow more revealing than what they’d just shared.

“Not too hot on the water, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

Terry chuckled as another kiss and loose instructions sent Patrice on her way with a giddy hop in her step. He listened to her make arrangements in the bathroom while he made the room more like somewhere to sleep and not ground zero of a natural disaster.

He placed clothes in neat stacks, straightened items that took a tumble in the heat of the moment and piled dirty sheets in the middle of their bed. When all was complete, he took a seat to contact the front desk.

“Hey, could we get some fresh sheets later today? Room 335.” Patrice calling for him from the shower made him smile against the receiver. “Sure, extra towels too. Yes ma’am. I appreciate it.”

Thank God for housekeeping. In one hour the room would return to pristine condition for another romp or relaxation. A night of good food and better drinks would decide their fate for them.

-------

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee

#aaron pierre #terry richmond x oc #terry richmond #rebel ridge

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prettyngeto · 2 months ago

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your lips, my lips (apocalypse) - 18+

satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: if someone told you you'd be screaming out the name of notorious fratboy satoru gojo for a reason other than to berate him, you never would've agreed to come to this party.

content (mdni): nsfw, college au (reader and gojo are both twenty), fratboy!gojo, gojo is an annoying little shit but he's hot so it's okay, fingering, creampie, multiple orgasms, dom!gojo, sub fem!reader, praising, dumbification, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids!) inspired by this fanart by yunonoai

word count: 6.7k

playlist: fluent in bullshit

main masterlist || gojo masterlist || ao3

The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat, bodies moving drunkenly against each other to the sound of the music blasting from the multiple speakers around the house. Multicoloured lights were dancing around every surface visible, your face scrunching in disgust as you caught sight of a half naked couple practically eating each others' faces off against a wall. All in all, it was a typical Saturday night for the infamous Jujutsu High frathouse. Red solo cups littered the floor as you manoeuvre your way through the crowd, eyes scanning around for your best friend. Your hand moved to fish your phone out of your pocket, immediately calling her for assistance, because if there was one thing you were good at - it was getting lost and right now you were most definitely lost. However, it seemed like luck was not on your side tonight because of course tonight is the one night she decides to not pick up. A small whine of frustration left you as you craned your head, going up on your tiptoes to continue your search in vain.

“The hell ya cryin’ for?” The deep familiar voice of the living and breathing embodiment of irritation rang through your ears.

Satoru Gojo.

Yeah, luck was most definitely not on your side tonight.

Gojo had been a constant in your life since you were kids, and not in a good way, in fact he was like that pesky fly that kept buzzing around your room at night even though the window was wide open. On top of this he just happened to be the president of the Jujutsu High frat - something he never failed to remind others of, so although it came to no surprise to anyone that he was here, his presence always seemed to antagonise you. The vice president and one of your mutual friends, Suguru Geto on the other hand was much more tolerable compared to the devil's spawn that currently had his arm languidly thrown over your shoulder as he leaned down to talk into your ear. His smirk widens when you roughly shove his arm off your shoulder and he goes to hold his hands up in a show of faux surrender. "Woah easy there princess, what's got you all worked up huh?" You click your tongue in exasperation and turn away from him, "You ever learn to mind your own business Gojo or do you get off on annoying everyone around you?"

The glare you send his way only serves to intensify the smirk on his face, his tongue reaching out to lick his lips before he answers. "Nah not everyone, I only get off on annoying you, get it right y/n." The cheeky tone in his voice makes you groan in annoyance before you spin on your heel and walk away from him, the sound of his grating laughter echoing behind you. 'Seriously what was his problem? Someone needs to teach him how to shut the fuck up.’ The dynamic between you and Gojo has always been an… interesting one. It mostly consisted of him doing everything humanly possible to get on your nerves, from pulling on your hair in kindergarten to throwing scrunched up paper to the back of your head in high school and in return, you used him to learn how to perfect your punches, (which admittedly always hurt him but he'd never let you know that).

“Y/NNN THERE YOU AREEE!” The squeal of your name had you turning around only to become entangled in the long limbs of your best friend, Yuri, simultaneously catching the attention of several others in the room due to the volume of Yuri’s voice. Yuri was the other (more enjoyable) constant in your life, a ball of sunshine who always got a smile out of you since the both of you had met at the ripe age of five. But she could also be a bit… loud, ultimately making you two the centre of unwanted attention wherever you went. “Bitch I’ve been walking around trynna find you for so long. Ugh, I think this is the most exercise I’ve done this whole year.” Yuri pants out once you’ve finally managed to get out of her surprisingly strong hold. You huffed, a small pout forming on your lips. “Yu, don’t be dramatic, it’s your fault anyway. I called you but someone decided to not pick up and then I had to deal with that annoying piece of shit. By. My. Self.”

“You talked to Gojo? Gojo Satoru? Alone? And the room is still intact? Who are you and what have you done to my violent best friend?” The glare you send her way has Yuri giggling, an arm hooking into yours as she drags you upstairs to the room in which the rest of your friend group were currently playing some stupid games. Excited smiles and waves greeted you as you walked through the door, Yuri pulling you down to sit in between her and Shoko. “You two are right on time, we were just about to start a riveting game of seven minutes in heaven.” The sarcasm in Shoko’s tone made you stifle your laughter, head falling onto Yuri’s shoulder, as she gave you a playful wink in response. “Seven minutes in heaven seriously? What, are we horny 13 year olds again or something?” Yuri groaned, her head tilting to rest on top of yours. You hummed in agreement, boredom already evident on your face, “Yeah who’s dumb idea was this anyway?”

Suguru has a cheeky smile playing on his lips as he answers you, "Google's. We didn't know what to do so we searched up 'fun games to play at a party.' " He was met with blank stares until Shoko nearly choked on the puff she was taking from her cigarette at his confession, the room now filled with the sound of laughter and Utahime frantically rubbing Shoko's back in an attempt to stop her from coughing up a lung. "Oh by the way did anyone see Satoru, we can't start without him or he'll start whining. Fucker said he went to the toilet, it's been like twenty minutes." Suguru's voice broke through the laughter as he leaned back onto his hands, head tilting in curiosity. Your mood immediately soured, letting an audible groan at the sound of his name and to make things worse, this was the moment Gojo decided to make an appearance. His presence was overwhelming to say the least, and the fact that he was aware of the effect he had when he walked into the room definitely did not help his exploding ego. Grey hoodie slung over his shoulder, and hands tucked in the pocket of his matching grey sweats, a lazy smirk made its way onto his face, "Hope you guys didn't miss me too much." His eyes caught yours as he sat down opposite you next to Suguru who smacked him up the head for taking his 'sweet fucking time,' resulting in Gojo readjusting the black baseball cap he was wearing backwards with a whine.

His sky blue eyes were shining with mirth as he looked you up and down from across the circle you all had formed, arms crossing and an eyebrow raising up at you in challenge. Your eyes immediately narrowed into slits as you stared him down, unintentionally locking onto the way his biceps flexed across his chest in the black compression shirt he never seemed to take off. He followed your eyes down to his arms, smirk widening as he not so subtly flexed his arms even more, watching in amusement as you try to hide the flustered expression in your face by rolling your eyes and looking away with a scoff.

Shoko cleared her throat impatiently, "Are you two done eye-fucking each other now or can we get this stupid game over and done with?" She asked with a bored expression, looking between you and Gojo with a raised brow. This only seemed to fuel Gojo's amusement, snickering as your jaw went slack at Shoko's words, face twisting in disgust.

"You two. Cut it out. Shoko - you're right and I love you but we don't need Satoru bleeding out on my carpet tonight okay?" Suguru Geto ladies and gentlemen, ever the peacemaker.

Utahime shot up from her spot next to Shoko, hands clapping in excitement as she retrieved a small black bag. "Okay everyone put something in the bag so we can figure out pairings. And thennnn, all you gotta do is go to the storage room next door for seven minutes. Simpleee!" She announced this with way too much excitement for your liking. Once everyone had dropped one of their belongings into the bag, it was simultaneously decided that Utahime would choose her partner first. Eyes scrunched closed, she dipped her hand into the bag, pulling out what was unmistakably Shoko's lighter. Loud hollers and cheers filled the room all the while Utahime sat frozen, face painted a bright shade of red. Wordlessly, Shoko sat up walking towards the storage room next door. Upon noticing that Utahime still hadn't moved, she turned around, tilting her head, a small smirk appearing on her face, "Ya comin' or not?" Let's just say you had never seen Utahime move so quickly in your life.

Seven minutes later, the pair walked back in the room with flushed cheeks and equally red lips that were sporting matching smiles as they both sat back down. Unfortunately for you, it was your turn to pick from the bag. Your hand reached out tentatively, rummaging through the contents of the bag as your fingers latched onto something cold. Pulling your hand out and opening your eyes, you were met with the sight of Gojo’s infamous silver chain pooled into your palm. Silence. Complete and utter silence… that is until Suguru’s dumb ass started cackling like a possessed soul, slapping his knee with tears of laughter gathering at the corner of his crinkled eyes. “I fucking love this game,” His words came out as what could only be described as wheezes, one hand on his chest as he tried to calm his breathing down. Meanwhile, Gojo was still wearing that ridiculous smirk of his, once again eyeing you up and down as you stared daggers into his soul, cheeks puffed out in anger.

“I refuse.” Your words were sharp and precise, arms crossing in defiance.

“That’s not how it works y/n…” Yuri’s defeated voice came out in a whisper next to you.

“Well too bad that’s how it’s gonna work now.”

“Says who.”

“Says ME.”

The sigh being let out next to you indicated Shoko’s clear irritation with your antics as she stands up, dragging you with her by the elbow as you splutter out excuse after excuse. Gojo on the other hand, has been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time. Your weak protests were interrupted when you were shoved into the empty storage room, followed by Gojo falling unceremoniously onto you, both of you crashing onto the floor. Before either of you could register your situation, the doors slammed shut encasing both of you in darkness. Gojo was still pressed against you, arms caging your head as a result of him trying to break his fall - and as far as he was concerned, he had no intention of getting away from you anytime soon.

"Satoru Gojo get the fuck off me right now" you seethed through your teeth, your palms weakly pushing at his chest in an attempt to shove him off of you.

"No can do sweetheart, I kinda like being this close, don't you?" You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, feeling his hot breath fan across the side of your face as he leaned impossibly closer to you to whisper in your ear. "Oh for fuck's sake Satoru are you fluent in bullshit or something? Get off meeee…" Your words trailed off into a small whine, clearly irritated by his antics but the teasing smile on his face only widened at your words, "Ooo first name basis already huh? This day just keeps getting better. You got a crush on me or something y/n?"

"Shut up Gojo, I hate you and you know it." You hissed out through burning cheeks, and you were struggling to figure out whether it was out of embarrassment or from the newfound fluttering in your heart. "You hate me huh?" His voice lowered, sending a shiver down your spine and you found yourself wishing his lips were closer to yours.

“Yeah, I do. I hate you and your dumb voice and the way you always wear that stupid compression shirt to show off your stupid muscles and I hate your dumb attractive face and the way you're so stupidly tall and-” Your words catch in your throat when Gojo leans down to be face to face with you, his sapphire eyes darkening as they pierced into yours.

“Oh yeah?” The husk in his voice paired with his proximity had you subconsciously squeezing your thighs together, breaths coming out in short pants from your ranting as you stared up at him wide-eyed. "Looks like it's you who's fluent in bullshit sweetheart cos this sounds more like a love confession to me," One of his hands reached up to grab your chin and tilt your face up towards his, thumb brushing teasingly over your bottom lip, making its way into your mouth and pressing lightly onto your bottom teeth - giving you no choice but to open your mouth, embarrassment coursing through you at the gesture. His smirk only widened at the action, his thumb pressing lightly onto your tongue, mind already racing with different scenarios, ‘Hm, maybe another time…’ he thought as he took his thumb away to grab the back of your neck to lessen the gap between you two.

You subconsciously lean into him, your body betraying you in every way. Eyes fluttering shut, heart beating impossibly fast, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You feel the warmth of his palm as his hand rests on the back of your neck, pulling you close, - closer and closer until his lips meet yours in a tender kiss. Your hands travel up from his chest, knocking over his baseball cap in the process, nails grazing his undercut softly, drawing him impossibly closer to you. Fingers moving further into his hair, you pull the soft white strands in a show of desire, resulting in a deep groan being let out into your mouth by Gojo as he presses his hips into yours in retaliation. A soft whine leaves you and you swear you feel him smirk before gently prodding his tongue against your lips. You part them for him, his tongue intertwining with yours in a dance of passion, your own hips now greedily grinding up into him. The warmth from his mouth disappears, his hot breath hitting your neck bringing you back to reality as your eyes slowly open only to find him staring at you with that cheeky smile of his. “Someone was enjoying herself hm?” His voice was gravelly as he spoke, eyes flitting back to your lips every so often. “Shut up Gojo.” You whispered, still very obviously affected from what was possibly the best kiss of your life as you rolled your eyes.

“Oh come onnn, I think we’re past this, say Satoru for me baby.” Twinkling cerulean eyes bored into yours, watching you become increasingly flustered at the pet name. You turned away from him defiantly, refusing to speak but that only urged him on further, voice like dripping honey as he leaned down to speak into your ear. “C’mon sweetheart, you can do it, I believe in you. Look at me and say my name with that sweet voice of yours for me hm?” Gulping, you look up at him with wide eyes and warm cheeks, mouth parting ready to speak, when there's a series of knocks against the closet door, Suguru's deep voice a mere echo in your ears. A loud groan was let out above you as Satoru threw his head back in annoyance, “Ugh, so close. It’s okay princess, I’ll make you scream it soon enough,” he said with a wink as he finally got off of you whilst picking up his forgotten cap from the floor and placing it backwards on his head. He looks down, a hand reaching out to help you up. You take his hand and he pulls you up, biting his lips when you look up at him with those pretty eyes and for some reason he can’t bring himself to look away, both of you forgetting the fact that you were supposed to be getting out of the room.

"Yo Satoru, time's up get outta there." Light floods in as Suguru flings the door open, and your throat gets dry once you notice the desperation darkening Satoru's eyes. With heavy breaths, heaving chests and faces flushed with passion, neither of you seem to be able to look away from the intensity emitting from each other. At this point, there isn't a single thought in your head other than the man standing in front of you, looking at you with so much passion that you fear you'd never be able to look at another man without being reminded of him. The sound of a throat clearing brings both of you back to reality, Surguru watching you with a knowing smirk and crossed arms. Satoru on the other hand, doesn’t even acknowledge his best friend, instead opting to reach for your wrist, practically dragging you away down the other end of the hallway to where his room is. “Fucking took them long enough my god…” Suguru mutters under his breath, making his way back to his room already excited to tell the others about your escapade.

Meanwhile, Satoru has you pushed up against the door of his bedroom, lips impatiently clashing with yours, hands caressing each other frantically. His cold hands had slipped under your shirt making you hiss slightly. His hands continued to make their way up, his thumbs teasingly rubbing your nipples through your bra, your whimpers getting lost in his mouth. Your own hands were gripping the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer to you. You feel one of his hands moving down to unbutton your jeans, his pinky finger swiping the skin just above the waistband of your underwear, making you buck your hips needily into him. “Fuck baby, I can feel how wet you are through your panties. Messy girl aren’t you?” He mumbles, nipping your ear softly as his fingers start to tease your slit through your underwear. Your whimpers only encourage him further, pushing your panties to the side, tips of his fingers rubbing your clit. Your body was growing responsive to his touch, leaning further and further into him, face buried in his chest as you feel yourself get impossibly wetter. Soft pants left your mouth, one of your hands shyly reaching down to grab his bulge through his sweatpants making him moan into your neck, your eyes widening when you feel just how big he is. You let out a particular loud squeal when two of his long fingers entered you without warning, body squirming as you tried to adjust to their size. Satoru had resorted to biting and sucking your neck in order to hold back his moans as you continued palming him, your cute little whimpers making him harder underneath your hand. His voice comes out in a growl, eyes now boring into yours, fingers relentlessly going in and out of you, painting stars in your vision. “T-toru…” The whimper escaping you had his gaze softening slightly, “I know baby, I know. Be a good girl for me and take it, yeah?” Your eyes screwed shut as you nodded weakly at his words, the praise making your pussy clench around his fingers.

"Shit baby you're so fucking tight around my fingers, you sure ya can take my cock? I don't think it'll fit in that tight little pussy of yours" He leans down to playfully nip on your ear and there's a taunting smile playing on his lips when he meets your eyes again. A defiant look crosses your face, the need to prove him wrong still as strong as ever, even if he is currently turning you into a brainless mess. "I can take it…" your retaliation would've been much more believable to him if your words weren't beginning to slur, coming out in soft pants. So Satoru did what he knew how to do best.

He teased. Mercilessly.

"Aw my pretty little baby thinks she can take it? Yeah well, you're gonna have to cum around my fingers first if we wanna fit my dick in you sweetheart. But I don't know how much I'm willing to let you cum." His taunts are followed by a cruel curl of his fingers, his knuckles bullying your inner walls, your juices dripping down onto his wrist from how wet you were. You were so so close, fingers clenching around the front of Satoru's shirt, your head buried in his chest as your eyes were scrunched closed in pleasure, small tears threatening to fall from your lash line.

“You fucking dickhead let me cum please,” you mumble out into his shirt, his fingers relentless in their teasing turning your desperation into frustration.

“Yeah? You wanna cum baby? Beg for it.” The words coming out of his mouth were nothing short of torture for you as he stopped his movements, fingertips now rubbing your clit in gentle circles, all the while looking down at you with that infuriating smirk of his. See, usually it would take more than those three words for you to listen to Satoru Gojo of all people, but considering the fact that his fingers alone were making you see stars, it was clear to all what your choice was.

“Please…” you breathe out, face finally coming up from your hiding place in his chest to look up at him with blown pupils, tears still pooled in your eyes and wobbly lips. Gojo’s breath hitched when you made eye contact with him, his throat going dry at the mere sight of your already dishevelled appearance. Fuck, it made him want to ruin you even more so who was he to deny your pretty plea. “Only cos you asked so nicely”, he whispers into your ear, teeth scraping against your lobe, his fingers going in and out in the most toe-curling ways. You felt your eyes roll back as one of your hands clutched the front of his shirt, the other palming him through his sweats, mouth open, letting out what Satoru believed was the prettiest sound he’d ever heard as you squeezed around his fingers, thighs shaking ever so slightly as he continued rubbing soothing circles on your clit.

Satoru’s half-lidded eyes were stuck to you, the image of you cumming on his fingers now permanently etched into his mind. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, a groan emitting from the back of his throat, but of course he couldn’t help himself from muttering yet another cheeky remark.

“You know, for someone who claims to ‘hate’ me so much, you seemed to enjoy cumming on my fingers a bit too much.” The glare you throw up at him would usually have more venom but seeing as you just had what could only be described as the best orgasm of your life (although you would never admit this to his face), all your ‘glare’ did was make Satoru’s smirk widen.

"F-fuck you Gojo,”

"That's the plan sweetheart."

In a matter of seconds, you felt arms snaking under your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly and dropping you onto the middle of his bed, navy blue silk sheets rippling underneath you. Of course he would have fucking silk bedsheets, rich prick. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted when you see Satoru standing at the edge of the bed, staring down at you with nothing but lust in his eyes, his tongue coming out to swipe across his lips hungrily as he slowly starts taking that damn black compression shirt off, making a show out of it as he does so. Trust him to be able to turn into a stripper at will. You gulp, scanning him down whilst he makes his way over to you, eyes locking onto the outline of his cock through his grey tracksuits. He’s now on top of you, forearms on either side of your head caging you in, soft strands of white hair falling over his eyes; eyes which he hadn’t taken off you since he locked the door.

“You’re awfully close,” The words leaving your mouth are barely louder than a whisper and he could feel your breath hitting his lips as you spoke.

“Problem, sweetheart?” He whispers back, leaning his face down impossibly closer to yours, his fingers gently snaking in between yours at the sides of your head. You bite your lip in anticipation, “No but it will be if you don’t fucking do something,” the retort leaves you before you could think, impatience radiating off you as you look at him through your lashes.

“Knew you secretly had a thing for me this whole time.” He lets out a low chuckle and before you could snap back at him, his lips come crashing down onto yours, hands squeezing yours essentially pressing you down further into his annoyingly comfortable mattress. He grabs both of your wrists into one of his hands, the other making its way down your hips and into your jeans, tracing the waistband of your panties. Meanwhile, your lips have resorted to leaving small kisses across his jawline, sucking little marks down the side of his neck making Satoru let out a soft whine into your ear. And you decide very quickly that you like the noise he just made so, of course, you bite down onto the junction between his neck and his shoulder, one of your hands leaving his grip and sneaking into the waistband of his tracksuits, straight into his boxers stroking his (very hard) length, causing him to let out a quiet growl, his face buried in your neck.

Evidently, this was his last straw.

Here you were getting up close and personal with his neck and the next thing you know he’s flipped you over onto your stomach, hands dragging your jeans and panties down your legs, throwing them onto the floor carelessly. “Fuckkk I can’t wait to ruin you,” he practically growls the words out as his palm lands a loud smack onto your ass, a squeal of surprise escaping you, your head turning back to look at him with narrowed eyes and you swear you nearly came on the spot from seeing him kneeling behind you, toned abs on full display, that stupid baseball cap still backwards on his head as he admired your half-naked body sprawled on his bed.

“What? I’m only saying the truth” he shrugs whilst ridding himself of his tracksuits, dragging his boxers along, his hard cock springing up hitting the base of his stomach. His hand comes up to stroke it lazily, and you keep looking back at him, your pupils blown wide, almost mesmerised by his actions as he lets out a soft moan when his thumb swipes across his tip. Your body squirms at his actions, the need to feel him inside you growing by the second and he notices, of course he notices his gaze hasn’t been anywhere else but you this whole time. You feel his cold hands grip your hips, a shiver running down your spine as he manoeuvers your hips upwards, “Ass up for me sweetheart,” he mumbles, his knees pushing yours outwards and spreading your legs open in the process.

“There we go, good girl. So wet for me hm?” His sweet mumbles went straight to your core, your pussy getting embarrassingly wetter with every word coming out of his mouth. You let out a staggered breath, feeling him get closer to where you needed him most, the tip of his cock teasingly rubbing up and down your slit, eyes fixated on how your pussy seemed to clench around nothing. “Satoru I swear to god if you don’t- ” your grumble was interrupted by a loud squeal as he finally inserted himself into you with one swift movement.

“Fucckkk you’re so tight, this what you wanted princess?” he groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure, his hat falling off his head in the process. The hand that wasn’t gripping your hips reached back to retrieve his hat, placing it haphazardly on your head, a wide smirk gracing his lips as he admired you, your ass still squirming against him as you tried to adjust to his length with soft whimpers leaving your lips. He pulls out, leaving only his tip inside you before slamming himself back in as you whine out a loud “Toruuuu” into the pillow that was currently clutched to your chest, forearms pressed into the mattress to hold yourself up. He starts moving in and out, irritatingly slowly at first, just to antagonise you that little bit more, make you that little bit more needy for him. Because, fuck he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy seeing the mouthy brat that always had a snipy remark for everything he did be at a loss for words, going dumb on his cock when he hadn’t even started fucking her yet.

“Is this what all the girls were raving about? Cos right now I’m incredibly unimpressed Satoru,” you breathe out, a cheeky smile playing on your lips as you turn your head back , eyes finding his behind you. His eyes narrow as they stare back at you, not amused by your taunts in the slightest - so he picks up the pace, hips slamming into you as your mouth falls open, fingers tightening around the pillow underneath you, head falling down to your chest as you try to muffle the sounds threatening to escape you from the sudden pleasure. One hand is gripping your hip so hard, you were sure there would be a mark there and the other is teasingly running up and down your clothed spine.

“O-oh fuck why do you have to feel so gooddd” you pant out begrudgingly, the end of your sentence forming into a whine as your hips moving back in sync against him. “Yeah? Ya still unimpressed? Or should. I. Go. Harder.” Each word was accompanied by a particularly hard thrust, your moans getting too loud for your liking, and you lose all sense of control in your body as you feel yourself move up the mattress with each thrust. The hand teasing your spine bunches the back of your shirt in his fist as he pulls you back onto his cock, “Now where do you think you’re going sweetheart? God, you have no idea how fucking good you look right now.” he breathlessly mumbles out, his voice deeper as he watches you struggle underneath him, your hair splayed out on your back, his hat still on your head, knuckles turning white from clutching onto the pillow so hard and the sweetest sounds leaving your swollen lips. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life, feeling yourself leaking down your thighs and of course Satoru takes note of this, his free hand swiping the dripping wetness from the inside of your thigh with his nimble fingers, moving to circle your clit in slow movements, his thrusts getting faster. “S-so good holy fuck~” you whine out, eyes rolling back into your head.

A snicker escapes Satoru as he watches you fall apart further, mouth open and drool threatening to drip down the corner of your mouth as your cheek is squished onto the pillow underneath your head, your soft whimpers and pants making him want to fuck you harder. He moves his hand from your clit to grab your jaw, making you twist your head to face him as he rudely shoves two of his fingers into your mouth and you instinctively start sucking on them, drool now freely dripping down your chin as he pushes his fingers deeper into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue in the process. He kisses his teeth in faux annoyance “Tch, messy girl aren’t you?” He taunts, leaning his body down onto yours, his other hand brushing back the hair sticking to your forehead in an almost sweet gesture in comparison to the way he was practically slamming into you, and the cute moment was effectively ruined when he bunches your hair into a makeshift ponytail pulling your head back, his hat falling off your head all while thrusting into you deeper. You let out a particularly loud squeal, muffled by his fingers in your mouth and his smirk widens, repeatedly hitting that same spot with the same vigour as he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Fuck you’re taking me so well, such a good girl for me.” He removes his fingers from your mouth, tilting your jaw to the side as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss, his tongue swirling around yours, his hips never seeming to falter in the cruel pace he’s set out for your pussy. All you could do was whine into his mouth, any semblance of speaking having already left you the second he had put his cock in you and with the way he was hitting that spot inside you, you don’t think you’d be able to speak again. He pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you, spit dripping down your chin as you look at him with clouded eyes and a flushed face.

“Look at you pretty girl, fucked you stupid haven’t I?” he mutters, looking at you with such awe, his hand still gripping onto your jaw as he leans his body down onto yours, his cock now reaching deeper into you as his thrusts start to become harder, your body jolting and your moans getting louder with every move. “T-toru, ‘m close,” I pant out, letting out small sniffles. “Yeah? You wanna come for me?” he taunts, his hips slowing down on purpose, the hand holding your hair pulling your head back further with a harsh tug for his lips to scatter soft kisses and nibbles on the sides of your neck as you nod impatiently, tears brimming in your eyes. Another whine escapes you as you look at him pitifully, pupils blown wide and lips trembling as you become desperate for release, grinding back onto his dick for in need of more friction. He tuts, his hands moving to grip your hips, stilling your movements. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he grits out, the hand on your jaw moving to the back of your neck and pinning you down, cheeks squished onto the mattress. “You wanna come, you beg for it like the good girl I know you are, understand?” Tears of frustration were now freely running down your cheeks, your face an absolute flushed mess of tears and drool and the sight of you was enough to make Satoru cum right there and then. He thought he should be getting an award for the amount of self control he’s shown so far. But he was quickly brought back to reality when he heard your precious, albeit muffled, voice whimper out a “Toruuu pleaseee~ please lemme cum”, paired with those pretty big eyes of yours and your pussy walls clenching almost teasingly around him, made him choke back a moan. And when you were begging so prettily, how could he say no to you?

“That’s my girl” he groaned, pressing a soft kiss on the side of your head before his hips once again began snapping into you relentlessly, the warmth from his body almost lying on top of your back making your head spin. His thumb found its way back into your parted mouth once more, pressing into the back of your bottom teeth, forcing your mouth open further causing even more drool to spill from the corners of your mouth, rendering you a helpless mess underneath him. His free hand slithered its way down to your clit, fingertips rubbing it tantalisingly slowly, your legs were already shaking and his ministrations on your clit made you want to close your legs. Your actions were quickly stopped by Satoru, his hand gripping your thigh pushing your leg further out, your fingers gripping onto the sheets in front of you for dear life at this point. “Keep 'em open,” he hissed out, fingers going back to your clit once he felt your walls squeeze around his dick. “C-cumming Toru~” your words were muffled and barely comprehensible as you babbled around his spit-covered thumb in your mouth. “Yeah? Cum for me sweet girl, c’mon you can do it,” He purred out, the sound of your wet pussy and his hips snapping into yours filling the room. Your jaw went slack, his thumb leaving your mouth to now rub soothing circles onto your jawline as he watched you come undone beneath him, his breath staggering as his self-control was slowly disappearing. “There you gooo, such a good girl. You did such a good job for me baby~” He cooed into your ear, his other hand going gently up and down your spine. “Can you hold on a bit more f’me?” he asks, checking in on you with a soft look in his eyes, and you nod, still dazed from your orgasm. He lets out a small chuckle at the state of you, “Good, cos I’m not done,” he grits out, flipping you over onto your back and resuming his thrusts in you all while looking down at you, his chest glistening with sweat, the front strands of his hair sticking to his forehead slightly. You bite your lip, looking up at him with wide eyes and you bring your arms up tiredly looping one around his neck bringing him closer down to you as the other brushes away the hair from his forehead, mimicking his earlier actions.

“Fuck ‘m so close sweetheart” he whimpers out, his head falling into the crook of your neck as his steady rhythm wavered slightly. “Cum f’me Toru~” you breathe out sweetly into his ear, your hands tangled in his hair as you hold him close to you and Satoru swore he saw heaven when he heard those words in his ear as he lifts his head from his spot in your shoulder, panting out. “W-where do you w-” before he could even finish his question you looked him straight in the eyes and whimpered out your answer, wrapping your legs around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back, pulling him impossibly closer to you.. “Inside please…” A loud groan leaves Satoru’s lips as he throws his head back at your words. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me sweetheart,” he grumbles out, his hips staggering as he cums, filling you up with his warm load and you stare up at him through wet lashes, clenching around him purposefully just to hear him whimper again.

He collapses on top of you, sweaty chest sticking to your equally sweaty shirt, letting out a huff, mumbling in your ear, “Best. Fuck. Ever.” and you couldn’t help but stifle a giggle, running your fingers through his hair gently. “Shut it Gojo,” you retort, biting back a smile when his head whips out of his hiding place in your neck, face contorting into an expression which could only be described as complete disbelief and confusion. “Sweetheart I just fucked you speechless on my cock and you wanna go back to last name basis? Be so for real right now.” Although your face flushed at his words, you burst into giggles at his last statement. Trust Satoru Gojo to still have the audacity to be sassy after sex.

“Sorry Toru~” you purr out, nails grazing up and down the back of his neck.

“Better.” he mumbles out, lips formed into a slight pout as his face plops back down onto your chest.

“So like… you still hate me?”

“Ehhh, guess you’re not so bad after all.”

“Are you just saying that 'cos I made you cum?”

“Yeah.”

“Fucking brat.”

ミ★ notes from star: the ending was a bit rushed but i hope you enjoyed it lovelies!

#🖋️𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ‖ 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #anime smut #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #divider by cafekitsune #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo smut #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #first full fic kinda nervous 🧍🏽‍♀️#i hope y'all like it #IM SCARED

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watchmegetobsessed · 10 months ago

Text

OLD GRUDGES (part 1)

A/N: wooohoooo im bringing something new!!! i feel like it happens so rarely it's like a miracle lol anyway, this will be hopefully a couple of parts (probably about 3) and lets all pray i will actually finish it lol

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry and Y/N go way back. Working together was like a dream when 1D was still going strong. Now, years later, when they end up working together again, things are very different. Mostly because Y/N seems to be hating Harry passionately. But he has not idea why.

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Everyone loves Harry Styles. It’s a known fact, not just amongst the people who actually know him, but all around the world. He is known as one of the most unproblematic celebrities, someone who gives just as much if not even more respect as he gets, always kind and patient with others, rarely loses his temper. It’s hard to imagine that there is anyone walking this planet who doesn’t see him as a lovable, sweet man.

Well, it might be hard to imagine, but there is actually one person who has a very different opinion when it comes to the british popstar.

And that person is music producer, Y/N.

The interesting thing is that their history goes way back into his 1D days. Y/N was an up and coming name in the industry, just started working with bigger names when she got the chance to produce several songs on the band’s third studio album. Harry remembers her as a bubbly, funny girl who is passionate about her job and is also excellent in it. Working with her was easy and motivating, she was always eager to perfect songs to an extent Harry couldn’t even imagine and that’s why songs like Story Of My Life, You & I and Midnight Memories were such hits. Y/N put her heart and soul into them, which eventually earned all the recognition they deserved.

Harry loved working with Y/N and she was in talks of working on their fourth album as well, but the deal ended up ditched and she went on to do other projects and they somehow had a fallout. It was a shame, but he hoped his path would cross hers again.

Years and years went by and so much changed by the time their professional ways finally met again. Jeff brought her name up when Harry just started writing for his fourth solo album and Harry gave him the go to do whatever it takes to get her on the project. A few weeks passed and Harry didn’t get any confirmation about her and just when he was about to bring it up to Jeff, he hit him with the news.

“Y/N is in for five songs. Contract should be signed by Wednesday and you can start working next week.”

Harry wondered why it took so long to get her on board, but he brushed it off because he knew she was a big name now herself and had plenty of offers from which she could choose from. He was excited to work with her and simply see her again.

It was utter shock for him when she was the complete opposite of what he remembered. Okay, that might be an overstatement, but Harry could feel something was off instantly.

She was still bubbly and fun, but for some reason, she had a certain iciness and bitter attitude whenever her focus was on Harry. To anyone else it was unnoticable, Harry knows, because he asked Jeff about it.

“What are you talking about? She is awesome,” the manager said with a shrug and Harry tried to tell himself it was all in his head, because if Jeff doesn’t see it, it’s not real.

But it kept happening and it felt even stronger when it was just him and her in a room. Sometimes she even pretended like he wasn’t there, sometimes her snarky comments were all he got and they just strengthened him in his belief.

He wanted to ask her about it, he tried, several times, but his attempts just bounced right off her icy behavior so eventually, he gave up and there was only one thing left for him to do.

Return what he was getting.

Yes, it is childish, but he felt like he needed to deal with her unreasonable hatred towards him somehow and this was the easiest way. Was it a smart idea to practically become enemies when working together on his album? Of course not. But it just happened.

And going against each other became their thing.

They were great in arguing, disagreeing even when they could easily compromise, riling each other up and lashing out on each other when the tension had been building up for hours. It got to the point where others started to notice that something was off between the two of them and when Jeff questioned Harry about it, he couldn’t give him a reasonable explanation.

“She started it,” he said and instantly felt like a kid, telling on his classmate at school. But this is all he could say, because he had no idea why she was acting this way. And he has to live with it while they work together.

Something is off. Harry knows it. Something about the melody… or the guitar… or is it the lyrics? He can’t tell, he has listened to the recording a million times so it all melts in his ears and he can’t identify what’s setting him off every time he hears it.

“Why don’t we take a break?” Jack, the technician suggests, turning in his chair. “Y/N will be here in twenty, I’m sure she’ll–”

“Okay,” Harry snaps, just so he doesn’t finish. He knows what he wanted to say.

She’ll know what’s wrong and will correct it in a second.

Y/N always knows what’s wrong and most of the time it’s a perk, of course it is, but today, Harry feels like it’s gonna make him want to crawl out of his body. Maybe it’s because he’s been in the studio for five hours and he got nowhere or maybe because Mitch will have his first ever solo gig tonight and Harry has been worried his fame or relation to him might ruin this experience for him.

Either way, today he is just extra pissed by the fact that Y/N will be the one to solve this mystery.

“I’m gonna grab a coffee,” he clears his throat, standing up from his seat. “Do you want one?” he offers, feeling a bit guilty he snapped at Jack.

“Uh, yeah, just an espresso is fine, thanks man.”

“Sure, I’ll be right back.”

Putting on his headphone, Harry jogs across the street to the tiny coffee shop he’s been a regular at. He likes the place because they are discreet and their coffee is just simply amazing, though they swear there’s nothing extra in it.

He waits for the two coffees at the end of the counter and scrolls on his phone in the meantime. Emails, messages, there’s always something to answer to. He sends out a few replies before he ends up in his calendar. It’s neatly color coded and he takes pride in keeping it up-to-date all the time so he can always be on top of his game, no matter what.

His eyes land on one particular date. Five weeks from now Y/N’s contract expires and if the five songs are done by then, she’ll be out of Harry’s life again. Seeing how the work is going, she’ll easily outdo that number so there won’t be any reason for talk about an extension.

An unsettling feeling spreads in his stomach as he stares at the date but he doesn’t have time to figure it out because he is snapped out of his thoughts when the two paper cups are placed in front of him. He is trying his best to keep a positive mindset as he returns to the studio’s building. With the two coffee cups in his hands he makes a right turn and then stops at the door, seeing Y/N sitting where he did previously, already listening to the recording with Jack with a critical expression on her face.

Harry doesn’t interrupt them, just stays put and waits for her feedback. When she is done listening, she leans back in her seat.

“It’s the bass. Or more specifically the lack of it. Can you double it? Let’s see how it changes.”

Jack is quick to do as she asked and then he starts the song again and…

Harry wants to scream and laugh in bliss at the same time, because it’s perfect now. He’s mad he couldn’t spot such an obvious thing, but he is also happy it’s finally sorted out. It’s just a shame Y/N was the one to do it and not him.

“Great, so this is done then,” he makes himself noticed as he walks into the studio and hands over one of the cups to Jack.

When he looks at Y/N he can see that familiar, irritated look on her face that’s almost always there when he’s around. He hasn’t decided if he wants to physically wipe it off, or…

“Thanks for bringing one for me,” she comments in a bored tone, turning back towards the screen.

“You weren’t here when I went out.”

“But you knew I was coming.”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes it, because this time she is kind of right. And it irks him even more today.

It’s gonna be a challenging session today, Harry thinks as he takes a seat.

It’s always exciting for Harry to be behind the stage when he’s not the star of the show. Kind of like a whole different world.

He hasn’t been here for long, but he’s been trying his best to stay as unnoticed as possible and let Mitch take the spotlight. Just a few minutes ago Sarah put him on Scout-duty which he gladly took up on, he’s always happy to spend time with the little guy. This time he is letting him explore freely and he’s just following him around to make sure he’s safe. Scout seemingly enjoys the adventure with uncle Harry, who doesn’t really pay attention where he is heading.

That’s how they end up in the green room where Y/N is.

Y/N and Sarah have worked together a while ago, which is a random coincidence how they are connected outside of Harry. Because of their history, Y/N is often where they are, however she was never around when Sarah and Mitch were playing for Harry.

Scout runs up to Y/N, arms in the air, asking to be picked up and Harry stops a few steps away from them when he realizes who he just found.

“Hey there, little guy! Are you all by yourself?” Y/N asks, settling the boy on her hip.

She’s changed since they parted ways in the studio. Harry has always admired her sense of style, which mostly consists of basic pieces, almost like a capsule wardrobe, but there’s always something extra, something vibrant on her that makes her sets interesting. Tonight she is wearing a simple black dress with a rather low back cut, simple heels, simple makeup, but she added a silky scarf with vivid colors and shapes around her neck that brings Harry’s attention to the curve of her neck and collarbones, almost as a cheeky invitation for his eyes to her naked skin.

He has to fight the urge to touch her.

Despite the spiteful relationship they’ve been sporting lately, Harry had to deal with a rather unreasonable desire for Y/N in a physical way.

Unreasonable, because he never thought he could be attracted to someone who pisses him off so easily, yet there’s been plenty of occasions when Harry found himself imagining scenarios he could never admit to her, not when she hates him with such obvious passion.

Tonight it’s not just the outfit, but also the way she’s handling Scout. It’s not just women who find it incredibly hot when the opposite sex is great with kids, Harry can definitely feel something inside him moving as he watches Y/N sway from side to side with the little boy in his arms.

“Uncle Hazza is here!” Scout points at him, answering her previous question. Y/N looks up and because Harry was already looking at him, he catches a slipping moment where there’s no irritation on her face, but it returns quite fast when her gaze settles on him.

“Ah, hi,” she says, lips pressed together as she nods, acknowledging his presence.

“Hey. Long time no see.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it. Who says that? Why did he even say anything else other than hi? He smacks himself in his mind.

Part of him expects her to say something like ‘not long enough’ but she just keeps quiet and turns all her attention to Scout. Harry feels out of place, he is supposed to be babysitting, but Y/N is taking care of Scout, Harry knows he is in good hands but Sarah asked him to watch over him. Should he leave? Or just keep standing there awkwardly?

“You can go, I’ll watch him,” Y/N says, as if she could read his mind.

“You sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I can take care of him until Sarah is back.” Her reply is not just dry, kind of offended, nothing Harry wouldn’t expect from her, but it’s still irking him.

“I didn’t say you’re not capable, I just–”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” she cuts him off with an icy look. Harry is too stunned to reply, just watches Y/N walk away with Scout.

He almost finds it amusing how easily she can piss him off, not many people have been able to do that, in fact, Harry thinks she does it the best.

Clenching his jaw he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves and then just lets it all go.

The after party is always kind of Harry’s favorite. The stress is over, it’s just the relief and celebration that is left.

Mitch’s show went well, that’s what Harry expected, but it’s still great he was right. Seeing his friend be the star of the show was an experience he is glad he could be part of. Now that the core of the group has moved to a nearby bar, Harry has loosened up thanks to the couple of drinks he’s had.

He’s been mostly sticking to the familiar faces he knows, rotating between the same few people while enjoying how under the radar he is currently.

The more drinks he has had, the less he’s been able to control where his gaze goes. To be exact, he’s been finding himself looking Y/N’s way the past hour or so. That damn dress and scarf, it’s like she’s put a spell on him that forces him to keep wanting to look at her.

Harry is not experienced with feeling like this. Being attracted to someone who he hates, it’s such an ambivalent impulse, he can’t think straight. Or maybe it’s the amount of tequila he has drunk tonight, either way, it’s getting a rise out of him.

From the corner of his eye he sees her slip out to the back where the smoking area is, he hesitates, shifts his weight from one leg to the other before making the leap and heading after her. He has no plan, no idea what he wants to ro will say to her, but he just feels like he has to talk to her.

Stepping out to the dimly lit back alley he is met with a few people scattered around, having a cigarette with drinks in hand, talking or scrolling on their phone and then he spots Y/N on the left, standing by the wall, cigarette in one hand, the remaining of her drink in the other as she stares ahead of her.

She doesn’t smoke regularly, but she does enjoy one in certain social settings or when she’s had a few drinks. Harry knows it from years ago, because they shared a cigarette at a party, back then she seemed thrilled to spend time with him, he remembers all the conversations they had while working together, telling each other stories, sharing their plans, Harry truly thought they would remain good friends on this extraordinary journey, yet they ended up here.

As Harry walks towards her, she notices him and he sees her lips twitch in annoyance.

“Care if I join?” he asks and she just shrugs without a word, avoiding to look at him.

They stand there in silence for a while, she is lazily puffing the smoke out from time to time.

“Is it still just an occasional thing?” he tries to strike up a conversation.

“Mhm,” is all he gets as a reply.

“Have you tried to put it down fully?”

“Why are you doing this?” she snaps at him, finally looking his way.

“What?”

“Why are you trying to chit-chat when we both know we don’t do that?”

“And why don’t we?” He challenges her. “Tell me why we are like this in the first place, because I have no idea.”

She stares at him for long moments and he awaits her answer like nothing before, but then she shakes her head and turns to the pin beside her, puts the cigarette out and flicks it into the bin. Then, without another word she is already heading back inside.

It takes a moment for Harry to start moving again, but he is quick to catch up with her in the hall that leads to the restrooms.

“Y/N, give me a fucking answer!” he demands, grabbing her wrist to pull her back before she could escape, but she shakes his hand off as she comes to a stop, turning towards him.

“I owe you nothing!” she hisses at him. “I owe you no one, but especially you!”

“What the fuck does that suppose to mean?! I never thought you owe me anything!”

“I’m not doing this, Harry, leave me the fuck alone,” she growls and tries to leave, but Harry pulls her back again, determined to get an answer this time.

“Don’t think I will just swallow everything down forever. I will get to the bottom of this, whether you like it or not. It’s your choice if you make it hard on both of us.”

She is looking back at him with wide eyes, this time his hand remains on her arm as they stare each other down in the empty hallway. Neither of them knows what will be their next move, the tension is so thick, it’s almost suffocating.

But then it all changes.

If someone asked who moved first, they wouldn’t know. One moment they are standing like stone statues, barely even breathing, then the next moment they are kissing like there’s no tomorrow.

It doesn’t take long until Harry has her pressed up against the wall, his hands roaming her body, feeling her up the way he fantasized about before, they are both rough and impatient, she is clawing at him, moaning into his mouth when his hips press against hers and she feels how hard he’s gotten already.

Blindly, Harry pushes the closest door open which happens to be the staff’s bathroom that someone left unlocked, lucky for them. Still glued together they stumble inside, Y/N kicks the door open before Harry pushes her against it and he locks it before his hand returns to her tempting body.

He has never acted like this when it comes to sex. He does like to spice things up sometimes, but the way he’s biting her lips or unbuttoning his pants or reaches under her dress to pull her underwear down is just so out of character for him, yet so freeing.

Nothing is said, but when her hands pull his hard, leaking dick out of his pants, there’s a fleeting look they exchange that says it all, just how much they both want it.

It’s the fastest pace he’s ever experienced, yet the most passionate too. They moan at the same time when Harry pushes into her and starts moving in a rush, desperate for relief. She’s panting and whining for more, the only form of speaking she is able to as she holds onto Harry who is focused on keeping up his quick and steady pace while holding her left leg up to ensure the perfect angle.

The animalistic need is there for them both, making them act like this is what they must do to stay alive. It’s messy, fast and mind-blowing and they don’t need much time to reach the peak. As she comes her nails dig into her shoulder and she bites into his bottom lip so harshly it draws blood, but he doesn’t care, only follows her into bliss just a second later. With the last bit of his consciousness Harry pulls out right before he comes, covering her thigh with the white, sticky evidence of just how much he enjoyed the past minutes.

They are breathing heavily and Harry feels like a thick haze is still lingering around his head, stopping him from realizing what just happened. Y/N however is ahead of him and when reality comes crashing down on her, her instinct to flee kicks right in. Harry is still trying to clear his mind when she grabs a paper towel and cleans herself up as fast as possible and Harry only snaps out of his trance when she is already unlocking the door.

“Y/N, what the— wait!” He can’t go after her as she slips out of the room because he is still pretty indecent, so he has to pull his pants up and can only rush out then, but by that time she is already gone.

He’s quite frantic as he tries to find her in the bar, but she is nowhere to be seen. Harry returns to the rest of their group, hoping to catch her somewhere but she has vanished into thin air.

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” he asks Mitch, his eyes still roaming the place.

“Nah, haven’t seen her since she went out to smoke.”

Harry groans and makes his way outside, maybe she’s there waiting for a car, but as he steps out to the street he sees no trace of her. Fishing his phone out of his pocket he doesn’t hesitate before dialing her number. The line rings once, twice and then… it goes to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Do whatever you want after the beep.”

“Fuck!” Harry ends the call and he has to stop himself from throwing it against the nearest wall.

This is not how he planned. Well, he didn’t plan any of it, especially not fucking Y/N like a horny teenager. He wanted to solve this whole issue between the two of them but instead he just created another one.

A stupid, giant one.

NEXT PART

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#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut

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buckets-and-trees · 6 months ago

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When He First Got Me

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Word Count: 2200 Summary: Prequel in the Exiled Nomad Series. July 3, 2017. Steve sees you at a city festival for the Fourth of July, but he's not content with only seeing...

Content/Warnings: explicit smut, vaginal fingering, kissing, rough sex, emotional unavailability, a broken Nomad who thinks he's fine but definitely is not

Author Notes: IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO READ ANY OF THE REST OF THIS SERIES. True stand-alone prequel. A little something for Steve's birthday weekend... This will be a bit of a darker indulgence for @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar challenge: mint chocolate chip (involving a loner), sprinkles (birthday and 4th of July), cherries (meet-cute), and we'll even say some caramel (because Steve is not quite in a great headspace if we're being honest). AND I'm entering this for @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer writing challenge: carnival/fair, slight stalker (but not fully), and I bolded the dialogue prompt that I used.

Steve didn’t feel like he could breathe easily, but he did feel like he could breathe here. Nothing like New York or DC. A place small enough not to be noticed but big enough to blend in without drawing attention as a stranger.

Being invisible somewhere had been easier than carving out the opportunity to do so solo over the 4th of July – less because it was America’s Birthday and more because it was his. Steve had suggested Wanda finally reconnect with Vision (they’d been on the run long enough, it should be safe for her to reach out and discreetly stay off the grid). The case he made to Sam was that he’d been on the run for over a year, and the 4th was less expected for a sentimental return to stop in on family but would still afford a holiday’s community celebrations and to give him reasonable cover to slip in and out. Nat hadn’t needed convincing. She saw, asked if he was sure, but understood without him needing to explain, and said she had things of her own that she’d take care of.

He just didn’t want any of the fuss of them trying to make him feel better on his birthday.

Steve was sitting on a shaded grassy knoll in the city park, hundreds of people around him, all weaving in and out of booths with games, vendors, and food, a vibrant temporary set up for a few days around the 4th, and on the far side of the park the sounds of carnival rides underscored it all.

He hadn’t come to this place to find someone.

But the moment he first noticed you, the plans started forming in his head before he could stop them.

And why should he stop them?

As he alternated between sketching in his notebook and people-watching, people watching turned into watching only you – you wandering this place clearly alone. Must be on your own in this city.

It would be so easy to harmlessly bump into you.

So he did.

When you recognized him, he could easily use the moment to draw you into keeping his presence in such a public place secret, getting you to trust him by him “trusting you” with his secret.

And he did.

He could easily ask if there were any good places to eat in town, then ask if you would join him.

He did, and you did.

After walking you home, it would be so easy to get you to invite him in, an afternoon and evening of conversation, compounding moments, and more and more casual touches on your arm, your shoulder, the small of your back, the back of your hand, having your body attune to him.

And it worked.

You hesitated, but invite him in you did.

And he tried for a moment to convince himself that being invited in had been all he wanted – to be someplace that wasn’t a stolen moment or a hotel room or a safe house that itself wasn’t very safe, just to be someplace private, someplace normal, someplace that felt like home.

But that was not the only thing he wanted.

And why shouldn’t he take the rest of what he wanted? After everything, didn’t he deserve it?

You didn’t notice that he locked the door behind him. You’d been apologizing for the state of your place, though after a quick glance around, he assured you it only looked lived in, not a mess.

Not like the mess he was so eager to make you into beneath him.

After insisting you didn’t need to get anything for him, he sat on your couch. He told you how nice it was just to sit there, nowhere to be, no reason to hide, how tired he was of running. You listened; you soothed him. He leaned in and kissed you.

You kissed him back.

All he did was kiss you until you leaned back on the couch and urged him along with you.

He let his chest press into your deliciously soft body. He groaned into the kiss, and you opened your mouth to his. This kisss grew in fervor, tongues exploring and tangling with each other. His hand ran up and down your thigh, slowly coaxing you to hitch it up around his waist. You moaned when he ground gently against your core – gentle only to test the waters. His need was mounting exponentially, and he knew the damn would break soon. He intended to let it.

He moved his lips from your mouth to your shoulder, kissing there before teasing his lips and teeth and tongue along your collar bone to the sensitive point of your neck. You sighed in bliss, and he moved his hand back up your thigh, over your hip, across your stomach, undid the top button he found there, and started to reach into your jeans.

Your breath hitched, and your hands flew to his.

“Steve, wait,” you said.

But you didn’t say stop.

He waited.

He could hear the wild racing of your heart beneath him.

The pressure of your hands on his body didn’t change, no part of you shifted to move away. Your eyes closed, the only sign of your reticence were your teeth worrying your bottom lip.

Steve slid his hand down to cup your pussy and his fingers found the wetness growing there that he expected. You let out a shuddering breath as his fingers worked your labia, but he didn’t linger there. He pulled his fingers out and then pushed them into your mouth.

“Neither of us wants to wait,” he snarled as you licked your slick from the pads of his fingers. “And it’s summer, we’re supposed to be having fun.”

Super soldier serum running through his veins, Steve picked you up with ease, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, legs around his waist, while he held one of your thighs and pressed his other hand at the base of your spine, pinning you securely to him while he captured your lips to kiss you again.

He easily found your bedroom, and he lowered you to the bed in a kneeling position. He didn’t relent in his kissing, devouring you, demanding your supplication. He only broke off the kiss once you were breathless, moaning, and pulling at his clothes. Then he stepped back and told you to undress. Steve quicky removed all his own clothing while keeping his eyes on you. You only removed your shirt and jeans, leaving you in your underwear, but he could work with that for now. He’d have you willing to shed the rest soon enough.

Steve got up on the bed with you, pleased that he could see your eyes darkening with the lust and the want. He recognized exactly the kind of want he was dealing with – it was how he imagined he would have behaved before living the harsh life of denial he’d lived while exiled and on the run for the past year. The old him would have wanted but been hesitant, gone slow, paid attention to more of the dance before even getting into bed.

He didn’t have the luxury of time or the patience for that.

He only had an insatiable need that he’d pushed down and ignored – ignored for years even before becoming Nomad. He’d denied himself so many things, sacrificed for others, for missions, too many legitimate and imagined reasons holding him back.

He wouldn’t hold back now.

But he would coax you into needing him as much as he needed you.

You only glanced at his naked groin with a moment of hesitance as he pulled you into his lap, but you still let him. He resumed your kissing, and you were quick to continue making out with him. He allowed you take the reins to steer the kissing, letting you lap up at the pace you wanted. He let his hands roam over your back as he eased you along, seemingly unhurried. But his hands soon made their way to your hips, and he secured his grip there and began grinding you down against his hard cock. He moaned unabashedly into your mouth as he adjusted the angle of your hips and continued rocking your core against him.

He was insistent on torturing you where your most intimate parts met until, clinging to his shoulders, you threw your head back, gasped for air.

“Steve,” you keened his name, clearly in the early stages of sweet ruin that he wanted.

He smirked against your neck and laid you down on your back with deceptive sweetness. He kissed slowly down your chest, between your breasts, down over your belly button. His fingers hooked into the top of your panties just as his lips arrived at the top of that fabric, and he peeled them down and fully off your legs. Your fingers worked anxiously over the sheets beneath you as he made you wait for him to touch you more.

His hands opened your legs back up, pushing at your knees to splay you open like a butterfly beneath his attention.

He worked both of his thumbs up and down over your labia, smearing your cunt with your juices, studying what he was about to claim and ruin. Then he looked up at your face and said, “This is mine now, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” your voice was soft, nervous, but also eager.

It hadn’t actually been a question, but he wanted you to say it out loud.

The only question was how he wanted to take you first.

Since he planned on taking you in every way, he went with the most convenient first, easing his cock into you slowly, but with no apologies for how thick he was, pressing into you despite the resistance – not that of a virgin, but of a cunt that had never taken a cock so big before. You cried out – but he knew the tone of it was pain drenched with bliss, he could hear it. What’s more, when he was fully sheathed inside you, he waited, unmoving. He watched your chest rise and fall with a few breaths. When you finally shifted your hips against his, he knew he had won. You wanted more. The beast inside of him surged in satisfaction, and then he began to aggressively thrust in and out of your tight channel.

He leaned forward, and your knees hitched up around his waist to urge him on. You clawed at his back, and when he reached between your bodies and found your swollen clit, he rubbed furious circles over it until he was rewarded with the clenching of your cunt around him, the seizing up of every muscle in your body, as he delivered your first orgasm of the night.

He continued pumping in and out of your spasming cunt until he was right at the edge, then pulled out and fisted his cock with only two more strokes before releasing hot ribbons of cum over your stomach.

Your fingers inched hesitantly toward the mess, and he put his hand over yours and pushed your fingers and his through the mess, pressing it into your skin. Then he moved your hands away and lowered his body down onto yours, the sticky spend between your skin and his there.

“I…” you started, but then paused.

He slipped his other hand beneath your head, cradling it in his palm. “Mmm?” he hummed against the spot behind your ear.

“I’m clean and have an IUD.”

He groaned and nipped at your neck. “You want me to continue to fuck you more. You want me to cum inside you.”

“Yes, Steve,” you simpered.

“Mmm, such a good girl,” he pressed a hot kiss against your neck, then rolled off being on top of you, and to his side next to you. “Best give you what we both want, then,” he said as he turned you onto your side, back pressed to his chest, and felt below to press his dick into your hole again.

Hours later when its far past midnight, you’ve passed out from exhaustion.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

But when he slipped back onto your bed after taking a piss, you scooted your body in next to him, put your hand on his chest, and muttered the sleepiest, “Happy birthday,” to him he’d ever heard. He almost wondered how you knew switching from the third to the fourth meant it was his day, but then he remembered the time when seemingly everyone knew it was Cap’s birthday.

While he wasn’t Cap anymore, it still struck something in him and made his chest warm.

But he didn’t feel like you would make a big deal out of it or make him feel bad and that maybe it would be nice to be with someone on his birthday, so he decided to stay. He told himself it was to be distracted chasing more bliss with your body. He ignored the other thoughts working through his mind. He only wanted – only needed – the distraction. Nothing else.

NEXT: July 4, 2017. read more Exiled Nomad Series

I'M GLAD Steve's POV won in the poll I ran earlier this week... clearly since I made the poll my muse was leaning heavy towards it anyway, but this was certainly illuminating to see more of where Steve's head is at in this ... situationship.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #nomad steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #nomad steve x reader #slashersummerwc #sundae bar #female reader #aspen wrote something #exiled nomad series

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allurilove · 5 months ago

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Yandere Manager x singer you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: yandere male manager x gender neutral singer reader, he’s secretly pining after you, your own little stalker, forbidden romance ig, male masturbation, takes pics of you sleeping, non con touching.

You met your yandere manager at the bar. You had been a part of a small band that never really made it big, but you always had shone brighter than the rest. You were magnetic, already having that star potential, and happened to sit right next to the man who worked for one of the best record companies. He just got off work, his sleeves pushed up above his elbow, and his glasses folded neatly next to him. He never really liked to drink, he was a different person when he did, but today was a special occasion. You were here. He already knew who you were, and he used a second low-key instagram account to see your stuff. He glanced at you. Your get-up was cute. He assumed that you came back from a concert or party, as there was a bit of confetti in your hair. You wore minimal and possibly sweat-proof makeup, and your eyes were striking with the black eyeliner.

Your manager sort of fell for you the first time he met you. It wasn’t easy to catch his attention, but you managed to do it. He had slid you his business card, paid for the rest of your drinks, and put on his best speech to convince you to sign with him. You became a solo artist in the blink of an eye, your singles and albums making it to the top forty, and you had the fame you wanted for so long. It just came with the price of having a stalker. As a manager, he had your location at all times. For safety purposes… of course. He threw a cap on, tiptoeing around the city to spy on you and your friends.

Your manager was responsible for your fan club. He would never tell you this, because it was simply embarrassing to admit, but he made a blog to gush about you. ‘A hundred reasons why you should stan y/n’ was the beginning of his secret outlet. He was the one that started the #manager and y/n would be cute hashtag on twitter, uploading a bunch of pictures of you and him having a ‘sweet’ moment. He spent hours scouring the internet to watch countless of edits of you, and he even made some himself. His cold and methodical demeanor would disappear the moment he was in the comfort of his home. He would lay in his bed, giggling and kicking his feet, twirling a piece of his hair as his eyes lit up at the sight of you on his screen.

Your manager acts like a helicopter parent. He’s always on your ass. He never texts you paragraphs or long sentences, so he could spam you and make sure you had definitely seen his messages.

“Where are you?”

“Out drinking again?”

“What happened to being responsible?”

“You have a show in two days.”

“I’ll be disappointed in you if you are drunk.”

“You better be at my house in two seconds.”

“Two seconds or I’m coming to get your ass.”

He liked you being drunk (only when you were around him). You would mumble and whine, his name on your lips constantly as you complained. And he got to be your hero for a while. He also forbids you from having any groupies. If you and him can’t fuck, then you can’t see anyone else. It was as simple as that. He couldn’t stomach the idea of you being with other people, and that’s why he had you at his apartment 24/7. When you were traveling for your shows, you best believe it that he was with you too. To him, it felt like you guys were practically married. Living together on the same bus, cooking together, sleeping near each other in close quarters. He would never cross the line when you were conscious; but when you were sleeping… it was free game.

The yandere manager took pictures of you. You were so worn out after your concerts, that you didn’t feel him moving your body. You trusted him because he gave you zero reasons not to. You trusted him enough that you didn’t expect him to start peeling off your clothes. He wanted his camera roll to be filled with your body. He gently put his hand on your thighs, squeezing the fat as he snapped a picture of you in your underwear. His fingers would sometimes find its way inside your mouth, subtly testing out your gag relax, and filming it for his pleasure. He flipped you onto your stomach, pushing your legs apart with his knee, and had his camera working hard to catch up with his thumb. He rapidly pressed against the button, trying to catch all the angles of your ass and sex.

Your manager touches his dick when you send him raw recordings of your voice. You were a night owl, your brain never shutting down until three a.m. and you sent him new songs you were working on. He plugged in his earbuds, lying back onto his bed, and hit play. He hummed the newest lyrics, his eyes closing as his hand slowly traveled down towards his crotch. He palmed himself, feeling his dick hardening in his grey sweatpants. He wanted you badly.

Your manager thought you were perfect, drop dead gorgeous and fucking hot. You have this sex appeal that makes his knees weak. He imagined you whispering the words to him: the heat of your voice warming the side of his face, your hand feeling up this tip, and wrapping around his long cock. Would you think that his dick was impressive? Would you be happy with how much cum that shoots out? Would you love it so much to gulp all of it down?

“Fuckin’ hell. Take it down your throat.”

“You love this don’t you? My big star.”

Your yandere manager wanted to sleep with you so badly. But he swore to himself to not get involved with another one of his clients. He groaned, his eyes opening to stare at his blank white ceiling, and his desperate cock softened in his hand. He hadn’t gotten any action lately, and he was oh so waiting to find the perfect moment to be with you.

Allure: extra stuff! idk i feel iffy about this fic

this is definitely reader and yandere managers text messages.

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frenchkisstheabyss · 4 months ago

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♡ ＳｗｅｅｔｅｓｔＰｉｅ ♡

♡ Pairing: sex worker!mingyu x chubby!fem!sex worker!reader

♡ Genre: smut/fluff

♡ Word Count: 3.2k-ish

♡ Summary: While spending the weekend at a mansion in the Hollywood Hills, a risky late night comment of yours draws the attention of your crush who happens to be in the same city and wants to see if you're all talk or about that action.

♡ Warnings: you're both spicy content creators, drinking, unprotected sex, Gyu's dick is kinda really huge, size kink for sure, stretching, riding, rough sex, doggystyle, clit play, ass slapping, oral sex (m receiving), cum eating/swallowing, dirty talk, switch Gyu/reader

♡ A/N: I usually put a sweet artistic statement in this space but I don't have a sweet artistic statement. I have a hot girl playlist and Mingyu's existence which is exactly how we ended up here. It's Mingyu, for the love of goddess, can you blame me?

This was never where you thought you’d end up. When you joked with your best friend, a successful OnlyFans girl, about starting one if your job kept working your nerves you hadn’t imagined actually doing it. Yet here you are, 8 months after that tipsy girl’s night, with a hefty following on social media and enough subscribers to never have to set foot in that job ever again.

Like any other job it has its ups and downs but having your best friend there to help you navigate it early on makes it feel like lightwork now. Plus it’s so easy to ignore your haters when your bank account’s as stacked as it is.

For the first time in your life it’s optional to check pricetags, you can literally have whatever you want. Some things you don’t even have to pay for, they’re just dropped in your lap simply because you are who you are.

That’s precisely how you scored yourself a weekend at this million dollar home in the Hollywood Hills. You’d passively mentioned during a custom video for one of your fans how hot you found it that he owned so much property.

“I’ve never played with my pussy in a mansion before” you pouted cutely, a vibrator whirling away inside you on its lowest setting. It wasn’t hint dropping as much as you wanted to stroke his ego but he took it as a chance to impress you, offering you a getaway at one of his places while he went on vacation for business.

You’d be doing him a favor, he insisted, because he hated to leave the place empty for so long. The ego boost was more than enough compensation on his part that he didn’t feel like you owed him anything. Good because as a rule you do not fuck customers. You don’t even do content with other people in your industry. Everything’s solo. Always.

“Show us the top but off” you giggle, reading through the comments on your Instagram live. You do a quick spin, showing off your barely there bikini top. “There it is but it’s not coming off. You guys are gonna get me banned.”

You only arrived a few hours ago and, exhausted from travel, decided that you’d rather spend the night in the jacuzzi out back than venture out to some crowded bar. This weekend is about relaxation after all and what’s more relaxing than sipping champagne in this warm bubbling water under the starry night sky?

It began to feel a little lonely though, you’re so used to having your best friend with you on these trips, so you decided to prop your phone up on the edge of the hottub and go live for a little bit.

Reading through the comments, you get caught up in conversation about a million random topics. There’s suggestions for the best restaurants in LA, debates over if aliens are real or not, and even a quick KPop Smash or Pass game before someone brings you to a topic that has your heart thumping harder than an EDM festival.

Your rule on sleeping with other creators is a hard “No”, this everyone already knows, but when it comes to one man in particular that rule’s nonexistent.

100_karat_xo Gyu saw your retweet 👀 youngxkwonskitty He’s coming over here aaaaaah!!!

You nearly choke on your next sip of champagne, watching the chat go wild as the memory of a recent drunken retweet hits you like a wrecking ball.

Your introduction to who Kim Mingyu was had been innocent enough. You were scrolling your feed one night and saw a video of a bunch of guys dancing. They were just fucking around really but they were genuinely talented and hot as hell so you had to do a little independent research to figure out who they were.

Mingyu was the one who caught your eye the most with his beautifully tanned skin and a face so gorgeous it hurts to look at. It only worsened the situation when you stumbled upon his spicy account and found out he had the deadly combo of a body Greek gods would envy and a cock that’d have you walking funny for days. Who needs to walk straight anyway? You followed him on everything immediately, nearly died when he followed you back, and it’s been non stop flirting since.

The two of you even ran into each other at a few parties where things would almost get hot and heavy but never ventured beyond a cute little makeout session. It’s painfully obvious both of you want something more though.

The most recent evidence came when Mingyu posted a video of himself seated in a chair facing a mirror wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. No shirt, nothing under the pants, just that muscular sunkissed chest and a mouthwatering dick print.

You were weak in the knees from the sight of that alone but when his hand started moving in his lap, his palm smoothing over the long, thick print, you went feral. Mingyu’s caption asked, “Who does this belong to?” and the shots of Soju in your system that night had you responding, “Me!” before you could think better of it. That was a week ago and you must’ve pushed it to the back of your mind because you haven’t thought about it since. But Mingyu has.

“Coming over here? What do you mean?” you ask, slinking down into the water as if it’ll somehow make you invisible. You get your answer immediately when a familiar name appears in the chat.

dongangu.daddy Hey beautiful

“Mingyu! Stop! What are you doing here?” you squeal, a hand thrown over your mouth to hide the uncontrollable smile his arrival brings to your face. As if there’s a way to conceal how giddy you are over this man. Two words from him and your whole aura changes. You were glowing before but now you’re radioactive.

jeonghanssimp95 my worlds collide omfg _horanghaeheaux_ Can you both marry me?

dongangu.daddy has requested to join

Your eyes widen at Mingyu’s request, not expecting to be put on the spot like this. It’s not that you don’t want to see him. You’d look at that face every day if you could—beside you, on top of you, under you—but you’re mortified of swooning over him in front of this many people.

Finally deciding that your retweet did all it could do to expose you for being down bad for Mingyu, you dry your hands on a nearby towel and accept his request. Another screen pops up below yours. There’s some darkness at first, a few seconds of shuffling, and then Mingyu’s displayed in all of his bare chested glory.

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he teases, shifting to a more comfortable position in bed. Of course he had to be shirtless. Of course he had to be in bed. Fuck your sanity.

Your brain has to shake off a five second delay before you can answer. “You just got on and already you’re picking on me. I’m about to revoke your privileges, sir.”

Mingyu laughs off your comment, confident that you’re bluffing. You are. “No, don’t do that. I’m sorry” he pouts, raking his fingers through his short dark hair, “I just expected you to be happier to see me.”

“I am happy to see you but you can’t come on my live talking your shit.”

“I thought you liked it when I talk my shit” he smiles, recalling all of the X rated texts you’ve exchanged over the past few months.

You shrug, mindlessly twirling your hair, “Talking is cute buuut actions are better.”

The true meaning of “action” is clear for you both. Mingyu’s wanted action with you from day one, spam liking your posts the moment he saw that you followed him. You had the prettiest face, the sweetest smile, and your body was so soft and plush he couldn’t stop fantasizing about getting his hands on you. You were even more irresistible in person and that knowledge has had him on a mission to make you his ever since. A mission he’s not willing to give up on easily.

“Action? I can do that. I heard you’re in LA” he says, the white sheet around him falling away as he sits up in bed, “I am too. If you aren’t busy, maybe we could see each other tonight.”

“Oh, y-you wanna see me? And do what?” you stutter, going in for another nervous sip only to find that the glass is empty. You were not prepared to be this thirsty for a drink or for him.

Mingyu tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes flicking down to take in what he can of your figure peeking out from the water. His heart begins to race, his cock stiffening at the way your lush breasts bob above the surface, droplets of water decorating your cleavage like diamonds.

“You tell me, babe. What do you wanna do?”

His question soaks your bikini bottoms with a new type of moisture, your pulse already racing. What do you wanna do? With Kim Mingyu? What don’t you wanna do?

“Gyu, aaah, fuck. It’s so…so…mmm” you whine, sinking lower onto Mingyu’s cock.

Your fingers trace his abs, your pink and blue ombre acrylics nicking his skin as your pussy relaxes to take the next inch of his cock. You’d seen it in pictures, even felt his bulge once or twice in person, but having him inside of you? Nothing could’ve prepared you for this stretch or for how full you’d feel after only a few inches. There’s still a couple more to go and you’re already shaking like you’re ready to cum.

“Keep going, baby. You’re taking it so well” he praises, hands cradling your hips to help you take him at your own pace.

He isn’t in a rush to fuck you. That was never an intention of his. Mingyu’s more than pleased to lay here with you in bed, your fluffy thighs snug around his waist, and enjoy the view from below. And what a view it is. The faces you make are too cute for words. They make him want to hold you close and protect you from the rest of the world. At the same time, they’re the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. And, coupled with those little whines of yours, they give him the ravenous urge to fuck your brains out. Every last cell.

“Don’t wanna wait anymore” you moan, leaning back with your arms behind you, palms resting on his legs. “I need it all.”

He smooths his hands down your thighs and back up again, “Anything for you.”

One thrust of his hips and you’re seeing stars. Mouth wide open. Eyes watering. It’s the fullest you’ve ever felt and you can only piece together a string of broken moans as your body adjusts to the new sensation.

Mingyu smiles up at you, beaming with pride at what he’s done to you. “Too much for you?” he teases, his thumb stroking a solitary tear away from your cheek.

You shake your head, never the kind of girl to reject a challenge. Breathing in deep, you steady yourself, raising your hips and slowly lowering them back down in a motion that has his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Oh god, fuck” he groans not just at how perfectly your walls hug him and not just at you being wet enough to make that hottub outside look like the desert. Every move you make hits the perfect spot, your body titled at the exact angle required to make him feel like you’re stealing his soul straight from his body.

Keeping your pace, you lean forward and lick your way up his abs, sprinkling kisses across his chest. Mingyu can pretend that it doesn’t tickle in a way he likes much more than he thought he would but his body’s a dead giveaway. His muscles contract beneath your kisses, his length pulsing against your walls. You can almost hear his heart pounding through his chest.

“Too much for you?” you taunt, smiling up at him, your walls purposefully clenching even tighter around his cock.

Mingyu bites his lip, staring down at you like a meal he’s prepared to devour. The fire in his eyes makes your heart jump. Teasing him back has consequences and you can tell you’re about to suffer them.

“Nah, I want more” he growls and two strong arms close around your body, one at your back and the other at your waist. Keeping you flush against his chest, he spreads his legs and buries himself even deeper into your needy core. If you thought you were seeing stars before, there's galaxies now.

Mingyu holds you like he loves you, cradling you gently while he fucks you like he hates you, and with your arms pinned to your sides all you can do is take it. Waves of heat wash over your figure, the tingling of your nipples brushing his chest sending sparks through your system. There’s no talking back now, only fragments of his name rolling from your tongue.

“M-min…” you whine, crumbling as the thick head of his cock bumps your sweet spot. You can feel his warm precum leaking into you, mixing with your arousal to make every movement all the smoother.

“M-min” he coos, reaching a hand up to brush away the hair sticking to your pretty face, “Having a hard time talking back, sweetheart?”

Your eyes are hypnotizing on a regular day but he must admit that there’s something special about seeing them so dazed and glossed over all for him. He grabs the back of your neck with just the right amount of pressure, lifting you away from him enough that he shifts angles inside of you. It’s such a small change in position but it’s more than enough to have you squirming, mindlessly rocking your hips against his.

“I didn’t know I had such a greedy girl on my hands” he says, tracing your jaw with feathery kisses. In a split second the room’s spinning on its head and you find yourself face down on the sheets with your arms held behind your back.

Mingyu slaps your ass and the sting gets you up on shaky knees. He doesn’t even need to tell you what he wants because you want it too. Teasing his cock at your entrance, he takes his time savoring the way that your juices drip all over him, your pussy already clenching in anticipation.

He runs the head along your slit, dipping it up to roll across that perky little clit of yours. He keeps you like this so long you’re drooling onto the pillow, clenching and dripping down his length and he isn’t even inside of you yet.

Not one to be outdone, you drop your hips down, slipping him right up to your entrance. You sink back on him an inch or so, popping his head right inside of you. You hear a sharp inhale and feel his body give out on him for a second. You move your hips in a circular motion, teasing him with the sight of you stretching yourself open with his cock.

“I thought you said you wanted more” you giggle, shaking your ass in the cutest way.

Mingyu slaps it again, gripping your hips, “So she can still speak. We gotta change that.”

He slams into you and you cry out at the force of his thrust. The aftershock has your body humming but there’s no time to soak it in. Mingyu doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up even a little bit. He’s feral for you. Already addicted to the feeling of you wrapped around him.

Keeping your wrists pinned, he reaches around to massage your clit, and your knees almost give out. He catches you before you can collapse, keeping you right where he wants you. Gripping the pillow, you bite down hard, screaming as loud as you want into the soft cotton while he deep strokes you to the brink of insanity.

It’s not long before a familiar feeling’s tugging at your stomach. You’re like a bottle of champagne, all shaken up and ready to pop. Mingyu rubs your bud faster, kissing the small of your back, “You gonna cum for me, baby? Hmm?”

Your body answers before your words can, jiggling in all the right places while you cum harder than you ever have. The clench and release of your walls as you gush down your own thighs drags him closer to his own high but he’s not ready yet. He has to keep thrusting into you, playing with your pussy until your body’s spent.

For a moment it seems as if he’s achieved his goal. Reeling from your high, your whole body gives into the mattress and you’re stuck there, letting out the sweetest whines with his cock still inside of you. But that moment’s fleeting and in a few seconds you’re back up on your knees, whipping around to take his cock into your mouth.

You don’t hesitate to take all of it into your mouth, not gagging once as you rub it against the back of your throat. If the gasps and moans coming from overhead are any indication, your tongue wrapped around his cock has him wrapped around your finger. You feel around blindly until you find his hands, intertwining your fingers with his. Your tongue traces the veins of his shaft, feeling the blood rush to the head throbbing at the back of your throat.

The taste of your mixed arousal floods your senses as it drips from the corners of your perfectly pursed lips. You sneak a peek up at him. That gorgeous face. Those muscles dripping with sweat. His body jerks and you easily pick up on the signs, slipping him out of your mouth at the perfect time for him to cum all over your tongue and those plush, puffy lips. You take him into your hands, stroking him until you’ve gotten every last drop. Licking your lips clean, you kiss the tip and lay back in bed, bringing him down with you.

Mingyu cozies his head up to your belly, his chest heaving for air, “Where’d you learn to do it like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just gifted” you sigh, brushing your fingers through his hair.

“Well, whatever you did, just know it’s yours now” he says, propping his chin up to gaze at you.

“Mine? What’s mine?”

“I asked who this belonged to. You said it’s yours. Unless you don’t want it…”

“No! No! No!” you scramble, your cheeks warming up again, “It’s mine! It’s mine! I’ll take it.”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, using his last bit of energy to crawl on top of you, “You’ll take it again? So soon?”

He spreads your legs, dipping his fingers between your legs and you’re still dripping wet. He presses up against you and you giggle feeling how hard he still is.

“You did say it’s mine” you smile, legs wrapping around his waist, “So give it to me.”

#svt x reader #seventeen x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #svt smut #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #mingyu fluff #mingyu x you #svt x you #seventeen x you #seventeen smut #chubby reader #plus size reader

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zyafics · 9 months ago

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PROOFS | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (drabble) | x Academic Weapon!Female Reader

Summary — When you're at a party instead of finishing a math assignment due tomorrow, the answer suddenly comes to you and you need Rafe's help to finish it. Word Count — 1.6k.

Content — established relationship, fluff, suggestive tone (implicit), and Rafe being a frat bro. Reader is an academic weapon and nicknamed "Ace" by Rafe's frat brothers.

Dedication — to @winterrrnight because of her comments on my initial post and dedicated to the anon who has to take the 3-hour test in a couple of days, i know ur gonna do great!

You should definitely be studying.

Instead, you're at a white lies party hosted by Rafe's fraternity. The Greek letters shining in white neon lights behind the DJ booth, which is blasting 2000s throwbacks.

The air is electrifying with a drunken buzz from the copious amounts of free alcohol from the kitchen. You were one of them. While you didn't have much, other than the red solo cup that Rafe got for you when you first arrived, it was enough to send a thrill through your system and loosen you up.

You're dancing with a random group of girl friends you found upon arrival, swaying your hips to the music with your head tilted back and a smile gleaming from your lips.

Rafe is watching you. Despite being with his frat brothers, off on the edge of the room and talking about the most random shit, his eyes always search for you from a distance. Making sure you're okay. Making sure no guy is messing with his girl.

When his gaze connects with yours, he tips his head to his direction, gesturing for you to come over. You, in your docile state from the singular beer, listen and pardon from your drunken pack of new friendships.

Rafe's arm wraps around your waist as you approach, dipping his head to deliver a greeting kiss. When you pull back, you’re a bit breathless.

"Hi, baby." He says through the loud volume of the party, the resonance of the speaker blasting the music is pumping through your body and matching your heart rate. "How's the party?"

You shrug. He knows you're still worried about your math assignment due tomorrow. It's the same paper you spent the past fourteen hours camped out in the library trying to solve. Rafe took one look at it and couldn't offer any assistance but neither was coping up in the study room till your brain is fried helping either. So, he invited you out, hoping some alcohol and music would relax you.

It works. Sort of. You are having fun, but the lingering reminder of your assignment sits in the back of your head. Edging your brain, trying to piece together the answers when you know it's there. It's a matter of time.

"Hey, Ace." One of Rafe's frat brothers, Lucas, greets. "How you been?"

You turn to him, blinking through a bit of your haze to recognize the face. "Could be better," you answer, grabbing the red solo from Rafe's hand and taking a sip for yourself. "Do you guys have anything other than beer?"

"Slow down," Lucas chuckles. "You barely attend any of our parties and you wanna start off on something hard?"

"I already drank the beer." You retort. "I gotta get something stronger. Make me forget about all my responsibilities for the night."

Rafe shakes his head, taking the cup back out of your hand and downing the rest. "You're gonna figure it out," he affirms, low enough for only you to hear, to calm your doubts and worries about getting the problem set done. "Just give yourself a break."

You frown but don't say anything else. Rafe returns into an easy conversation with the rest of his brothers, talking about an upcoming event or some random sorority girl one of them hooked up with, and you tune out. Your eyes glaze over to the dance floor in thoughts.

Your mind falls back to your mathematics. The problem flashes through your head, in perfect memory, as you recount the instructions. You consider what you were missing. Since you've been away from the assignment for the entire evening, your mind is clear from all the symbols and equations that were melting into the page.

Now, it comes fresh.

And suddenly, it all... clicks.

"Oh my god." You mutter to yourself. The shock reverberates to the rest of your body. "Oh my fucking god."

Rafe catches the end of your sentence and glances over to you. You don't look at him, pulling away from his grasp and making a direct beeline to the exit. You don't leave—no, you have no time to go back to your dorm and write this down—instead, you go to the front door where a couple of freshman brothers are acting as in-house bouncers for the party.

You tap their shoulders, and when they turn, grab the marker off the table. You don't bother to tell them, immediately uncapping and begin scribbling the problem onto your arm.

Just a few lines in, you realize it won't be enough space. The proof is too big.

Your mind is spinning. You can't go home. You won't have time before the answer flees your drunken brain. But you can't write it down. You don't have space.

Then, an idea crosses your mind.

You rush back to the dance floor, searching for Rafe. He remains at the same spot as he was last time, and when he sees you approach him, frantic and hurried, his brows pull together in concern.

"What's wrong—"

"Come on," you grab his hand and pull him away from his brothers. You don't bother apologizing for interrupting their conversations. Since you are well-acquainted with the house, you pull him to the back where you know there won't be many people.

You were right. Saved for a few drunken make-out sessions spread across the lounge, no one was there. You pull off to a quiet corner, mimicking the couples, and release your hold on him.

"Take off your shirt."

"What?" Rafe thinks he heard you wrong. You were always more conservative when it comes to sex—at least, the location—that the command seems like an auditory hallucination in his ears. "You wanna fuck?"

Normally, you would flush at such crude remarks, but you found none of that today. Too concentrated on saving your work on physical evidence, trying to remember your answers before they fade away.

He doesn't do it. He thinks you're joking.

Since he isn't complying, you start clawing at his shirt, trying to pull it off of him yourself.

He chuckles to himself. He thinks you're drunk and horny. A nice combo he has not seen from you so far. "Really, baby? Right here? I mean, I don't mind—"

"Shut up." You shush with a mumble and Rafe pushes your hands away, finally taking off his shirt for you. The white lie scribbled in his handwriting: I said I don't hate you, is thrown on his arm.

"Happy?"

You didn't even get the chance to admire him. The tone muscles. The perfect planes of his chest. Instead, you say, "turn around."

"New position?"

"Shut. Up!"

All he does is laugh, catching the attention of a couple of college students who pull away from amorous kisses to spare a glance in your direction. While there's a faint heat tinting your cheeks, from your boyfriend's words, you don't care. You were in a feverish state.

Rafe does what you say. He turns and you uncap the marker, starting at the edge of his shoulder blades and begin writing down your proof. Your assignment requires you to prove an equation for being true, utilizing implicit differentiation, trigonometry identities and partial derivatives. You've been stuck on it for the past three days.

Now, it's coming in waves. Of course you would shift it around. Of course you would have to cut the variables in half and move them to the other side. Of course you would forgo the x for the z, and vice versa. Of course, of course, of course.

Rafe feels the tip of the marker moving against his skin quickly, in rapid succession, trying to get everything down. At the rate you're going, you could be smearing the answers across his back instead of getting to your solution.

When you finish, your hand aching from how fast you were going, his entire back is covered in mathematical symbols and equations. Your eyes check through your proof, descending down until you get to his waist, and clears it's correct. "Done."

Rafe turns back around, raising a brow.

"What did you just write?"

You beam in pride. "I just finished my homework."

"On my back?"

You laugh, your lips pulled together in a genuine smile. Something he's glad you're showing off, after seeing how stressed you were with figuring out the puzzle. He’s proud of you. "I told you you'll get it. My brothers call you Ace for a reason."

You roll your eyes at the nickname. Since Rafe goes off and always brags about how smart you are—how you are the first one in your class to raise your hand, how you graduated valedictorian from your high school, and how you've been on the Dean's List for the past two consecutive years—his fraternity brothers has declared you a clear winner. An Ace, if you will.

Rafe glances down at you, at your white lie written across your short top, and licks his bottom lip.

"What?" You ask.

"I find it unfair you get to write shit on me but I can't do the same."

"What do you want to do? Sign my tits?"

He gives you a look that says that isn't a bad idea and you roll your eyes at your boyfriend. Of course.

You uncap the marker, handing it to him. He takes it, leaning forward and tugging down your white top to reveal your bra and begins scribbling his signature across your breasts. You giggle at the sensation.

When he finishes, you glance down to see he did sign it. Alongside with another message.

Not Rafe Cameron's Property.

"God, you're a caveman," you declare with a laugh, knowing this follows along with the white lie protocol.

"And you're mine."

He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. He doesn't even bother to throw his shirt back on; displaying the intelligence of your scribbles on his back in full glory.

"Now, let's rejoin the party and celebrate."

IMPORTANT: if you want to follow my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

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rubycruzin4abruzin · 6 months ago

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love, lies, and first times

Summary: You were made to believe that your girlfriend, Hazel Callahan, lost her virginity to Stella-Rebecca some years ago. But when the truth is revealed during a game of truth or dare, your trust in her is shattered. What reason did she have to lie, and who did she actually lose her virginity to?

Pairing: loser!virgin!hazel x experienced!reader

Contains: mature language and content, lies, smut, fingering, oral, first time, kissing, drinking, tit play, both receiving, both giving, loser!hazel, sub!hazel, biblically!accurate!hazel, reader isn’t described as fem or masc

Word Count: 6k

A/N: soo one of my pet peeves when reading a hazel fic is when hazel keeps her rings on when fingering the reader and the reader likes it? Listen, I lost my virginity to someone who accidentally kept their rings on and it was painful. I had to ask them to take them off, highly unpleasant. I kinda make fun of that here, I hope some of y’all are ready to get called tf out ;)

“Hazel, truth or dare?”

You squeezed your girlfriend’s hand as PJ sent her a wicked grin. The senior class of the Rockbridge Fight Club had just graduated high school, and the club leaders, PJ and Josie, had decided to celebrate by throwing a party—one last ‘hurrah’ for the founding members. Now, you all sat in a circle in Josie’s dim basement, sipping poorly mixed jungle juice from red solo cups while David Fincher movies played on a vintage television in the background. Truth or dare was, of course, PJ’s idea—perhaps in the hopes that someone would dare her to kiss Brittany.

Hazel returned your squeeze, the cool metal of her rings pressing against your warm skin. “Truth,” she answered.

PJ’s lips curled into such a shit-eating grin, you began to wonder if maybe she really did eat ‘literal shit.’ “Who did you lose your virginity to?”

You smiled, already knowing the answer. Early into dating, you and Hazel had exchanged ‘first-time’ stories: yours had been with some girl at summer camp when you were sixteen, and Hazel had confessed to experimenting with Stella-Rebecca freshman year. She stressed that it was nothing romantic, simply two friends getting their first times out of the way, and then swore you to secrecy for the sake of Stella-Rebecca’s privacy. However, Stella-Rebecca was sitting right there, and you doubted she would appreciate Hazel exposing their previous affair to the entire group.

Sure enough, Hazel’s eyes widened as a blush crept upon her cheeks. “Uhhh…”

Her hand seemed to stiffen within yours, tightening its hold as her rings indented your skin. You glanced across the circle at Stella-Rebecca, who stared at Hazel with an expectant (and somewhat oblivious) smile.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you murmured to Hazel in an attempt to calm her, but her grip only further constricted.

PJ rolled her eyes. “Come on, Hazel, I gave you an easy one. Everyone knows you probably lost it to her,” she gestured towards you.

It was your turn to blush. “Actually, uh…” you looked towards your girlfriend, who seemed to have lost her ability to speak. “We haven’t really, uh…”

PJ gasped as her eyes almost popped out of her head. “No way! You two haven’t jacked each other off yet?”

It was true, you and Hazel had yet to take your relationship to that level. Not like you didn’t try, you had been dating for months, but Hazel seemed to shy away every time you so much as slipped a hand up her shirt. You knew you shouldn’t pressure her, but you were beginning to feel a bit unattractive—after all, Hazel had lost her virginity to a model. How could you possibly compare to that?

Josie, ever the peacemaker, decided to chime in. “Ok PJ, let’s back off a little bit…”

Hazel seemed to relax a bit at Josie’s words. She eased her grip, and you heard her exhale a breath you didn’t know she was holding.

“I have to admit, I’m a little curious myself.” Stella-Rebecca interjected, taking you by surprise. “Hazel never talks about her sex life.”

Your face contorted in confusion. Hazel tensed up again, but your attention was focused on the girl sitting across from you. “What are you talking about?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, sometimes we’ll be hanging out and the topic of sex will come up, and I’ll share some hookup story and she’ll just kind of… change the subject or something.”

There it was again, that familiar burn of envy like acid in your veins. “Maybe she’s jealous,” you suggested, words unintentionally dripping with venom.

Stella-Rebecca furrowed her brow, her expression innocent. “I doubt Hazel would be jealous of my sex life… unfortunately, it has more men than I think either of us would prefer.”

”Well, you were her first.”

“What?!” Stella-Rebecca exclaimed, her jaw dropping in shock. PJ cackled maniacally, clearly having the time of her life.

Hazel’s hand was clamped so tightly around yours that her knuckles were white, but you barely noticed as you stayed fixated on Stella-Rebecca. “I mean… yeah… weren’t you?”

Stella-Rebecca furiously shook her head. “Hazel and I have known each other our whole lives, but never like that. Besides, I didn’t come out as a lesbian until after you two started dating. Why did you think it was me?”

You felt like a complete moron. “I don’t know…” you muttered, glaring at your girlfriend. She refused to meet your gaze, staring down at her lap while shades of crimson painted her features. Her hand was still clasped around yours, but you forcibly removed it, too hurt to want to be touched.

“Ok, so, Hazel’s a prude. Glad we got that out of the way.” PJ sneered.

Josie reached over and smacked her arm. “So are you, PJ. Hypocrite.”

“I am not a prude, I’m a virgin.” PJ corrected. “There’s a difference.”

The game continued once the tension died down. No one dared PJ to kiss Brittany, so when it was her turn again, she took it upon herself to dare Brittany to kiss her, which the poor girl blatantly refused. After that, PJ pretty much lost interest and the game dissipated, with everyone breaking the circle to go off and do their own things. Josie and Isabel were tucked away in a corner, failing to be discreet during a heated makeout session. PJ had joined Brittany on the couch, while Brittany sipped her drink and scrolled through her phone, trying to ignore Pj’s passes. The rest of the girls, including Hazel, huddled in front of the small television, chatting through the David Fincher movies. You, however, stayed back in an attempt to avoid your girlfriend.

“How could she lie to me like that?” You asked Brittany, plopping down on the couch between her and PJ. Rolling her eyes, PJ got up and left the basement, retreating upstairs for whatever reason.

Brittany seemed grateful for your company (and relieved at PJ’s disappearance). “I don’t know, babe,” she said, slinging her arm around you and pulling you close. “I’m sure she had a good reason.”

You groaned pathetically, resting your head on her shoulder. “I can’t think of any.”

Brittany leaned down and kissed the top of your head, sympathetic to your feelings. You glanced over to the television area and saw Hazel staring back at you, watching your interaction with Brittany. She looked sad, not jealous, just sad. Those big blue eyes that would look at you with so much love were now pained, filled with remorse. She sort of resembled a kicked puppy, and every instinct in your body told you to run over and hold her, comfort her, before you remembered why you were angry in the first place.

Before you could force yourself to break your shared gaze, PJ suddenly came bumbling down the stairs again, holding an empty beer bottle. “Look what I found in the kitchen trash!” She exclaimed, commanding the room’s attention.

Josie shook her head in disbelief. “Why were you in my trash?”

“Doesn’t matter! Now we can play ‘seven minutes in heaven!’” PJ declared, moving to the middle of the room and gesturing for everyone to get the circle back together.

Brittany groaned, all too aware that this was just another one of PJ’s stunts to try and get with her. It was your turn to be sympathetic.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered to her. “If the bottle starts to land on you during PJ’s turn, I’ll intercept it.”

Brittany mouthed a ‘thank you’ before taking your hand and walking with you to join the circle. This time, you sat directly across from Hazel, as far away from her as possible. You could feel her sad puppy-dog eyes boring into you, but you refused to meet her gaze.

“Alright,” PJ asserted, rubbing her hands together. “If there’s no volunteers to go first…”

“I think our host should spin first.” Isabel interrupted, looking towards Josie with what could only be described as ‘fuck-me’ eyes.

Josie giggled as she took the bottle from a reluctant PJ and spun it in the center. Everyone watched with anticipation as the bottle slowed, almost stopping in front of Annie before Isabel grabbed it and pointed it towards herself.

“Wow, what a coincidence!” Isabel exclaimed, much to Josie’s amusement.

The two held hands and disappeared into the small coat closet under the basement stairs. PJ rolled her eyes. “It’s no fun if you pick your partners!” She yelled after them.

One thing about 'seven minutes in heaven’ that no one talks about is what the rest of the group does during the seven minutes. Do you talk? Keep playing? Listen in? You certainly didn’t know, and apparently neither did anyone else—with the exception of PJ, who set her phone timer before sitting with her ear pressed to the door.

“So… what’s everyone’s summer plans?” Stella-Rebecca asked in an attempt to fill the silence.

Annie shrugged in response. “Mostly working as a counselor for Vacation Bible School and protesting outside Planned Parenthood. Same old, same old.”

“Would you guys shut up over there?” PJ hissed from across the room. “I’m trying to listen to them fuck!”

Eventually, seven agonizing minutes finished with the screech of PJ’s timer. “Times up, lovebirds!” She shouted, throwing open the door.

The ‘lovebirds’ stumbled out of the closet in a fit of giggles. Both of their clothes were wrinkled, hair disheveled, and Isabel’s lipstick was smeared all over Josie’s mouth. The couple was immediately met with cheers and jeers from the rest of the party as they made their way back to the circle.

“Wow, thanks for warming up the closet for us you two,” PJ snickered. “Now, as for who’s next…”

“Hazel, why don’t you spin?” Isabel suggested, seizing the bottle before PJ could and passing it to Hazel.

“Oh, come on!” PJ complained, having been cockblocked yet again.

The group all shared a chuckle at PJ’s dismay, especially Brittany who was laughing so hard tears began to form. PJ could do nothing but pout until the laughter died down and Hazel reached into the center, spinning the bottle.

Round and round the bottle spun, the group watching with bated breath. The hollow glass rotated, nozzle slowing, slowing until it finally stopped on no other than… you. All previously dissipated tension immediately resurfaced as the room seemed to still, everyone recalling the incident from earlier.

“Yeah, you guys! Go in there and give us absolutely nothing!” PJ sneered, earning another smack on the arm from Josie.

You stared at the bottle, nozzle pointing directly at you, no question about it. Through your peripheral vision, you could see Hazel nervously fidgeting with her rings, unsure of how to proceed.

“Maybe we could… play something else?” Brittany suggested gently.

PJ clapped her hands together. “Nope! Rules are rules. Get in there, you two.” She seized your hands and dragged you to the closet, throwing both of you in before slamming the door.

Hazel kept her gaze fixated on her fidgeting hands while you pretended to be very interested in a small tear on one of the hanging coats. After what felt like an eternity, you checked your watch. Only twelve seconds had passed. You let out a frustrated sigh. “Well, one of us has to say something.”

She glanced towards the door. “How much do you wanna bet PJ is listening in on us?”

You shot her a glare, not finding her joke funny.

“I’m sorry…” Hazel muttered, lowering her head again.

At that moment, all of the hurt, anger, and confusion you had kept bottled up to save face rose to the surface. “Why would you lie to me?” You demanded, using her own line against her.

Her face crumpled upon hearing the true betrayal behind your question. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”

“Hazel, you lied about losing your virginity to Stella-Rebecca. That’s such an odd thing to lie about, it doesn’t make any sense…”

“Ok,” Hazel cut you off. “I didn’t have sex with Stella-Rebecca...”

“No shit,” you spat. “So what, you like, want to?”

“No!” Hazel insisted. “Stella and I are friends. I’ve never thought about her that way.”

“Then why have you had me believing you slept with her?” You hissed, a weak attempt to keep your voice down.

She was at it again, fiddling with those goddamned rings. “I don’t know, I just…” she swallowed, hesitating. “You told me about your first time… at summer camp… and you asked me about mine. We had just started dating. I didn’t want you to think I was inexperienced.”

“Hazel,” you sighed. “You are inexperienced.”

“I mean, like, I didn’t want you to see me as an immature little baby who didn’t know what she was doing, so I panicked and made something up. I shouldn’t have, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear.”

The edges of your anger blurred as you realized fear had driven your girlfriend to a desperate lie. Poor Hazel, she looked shrunken, almost. She had drawn into herself, vulnerability exposed like a house of cards in the wind. You reached out and gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at you and taking her by surprise.

“Hazel,” you cooed. “It’s ok that you’ve never had sex before, I don’t care.”

“Really?” She asked.

You nodded. “Of course I don’t care. I just thought you’d been pushing me away because you didn’t find me that attractive, but…”

“What?!” Hazel’s exclamation took you aback, making you drop your hand. “That’s not it at all! Shit, I was just worried I’d mess up somehow, I’ve never been more attracted to anyone in my entire life! I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. No, really! Every time I look at you, I’m like ‘holy fuck, how did I get so lucky…’”

You cut her off by crashing your lips against hers. Her body initially tensed at the sudden contact, but soon melted into yours as it had done so many times before. Your hands found the nape of her neck as you drew her closer, pressing her up against you as much as possible. Lip-locks with Hazel were familiar to you, but never had one been so passionate, so rough and yet reassuring at the same time.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were gasping to catch your breath, realizing you had inadvertently chosen each other over oxygen. You gazed upon Hazel, studying her flushed cheeks, her lustrous lips, and the way her shirt collar sat askew atop her shoulders. With the way she stared back, you could tell you appeared just as rumpled.

“Well that’s good to know,” you giggled, reaching out to fix her collar. “Listen, Hazel, you’re a virgin. So what? I don’t care who you have or haven’t been with before. If you’re not ready yet, that’s perfectly fine, really. I would never pressure you into anything.”

Back at it again with those fucking rings. What the hell could you have possibly said this time?

“That’s the thing…” she began, her gaze fixated to the floor again. “I think I… I think…”

“Hazel…” you whispered her name, placing two fingers on her arm and making her shiver.

“I… I think I am ready. I’ve been ready. For a little while now.”

Your eyes widened at her confession. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I want you… uh, I mean… I want to do it… with you. I just… I don’t… I don’t know how to…” each sputter was paired with imperceptible hand gestures, desperate to communicate something she didn’t have the words to say.

“To… initiate it?” You asked.

“Yes! That!” She sighed, thankful you knew her well enough to understand her babbles. “I mean, should it be planned? Spontaneous? Do I just walk up to you and say ‘hey I wanna have sex?’ Where do I do it? How? Can I just blurt it out of nowhere or does something have to be happening first? If so, then what?”

“Hazel…” she was rambling again. You placed your hands on both sides of her head, smoothing her hair. “There’s no right way to initiate it, trust me. You can just do whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

She met your gaze again, head still caught between your palms. There was something different behind her eyes, though, something besides remorse or even vulnerability. Her brilliant blue’s seemed darker somehow, almost… hungry. You finally caught on when she snuck a glance at your lips, and closed the distance between you.

This kiss was different from the last: still passionate, but gentler, lighter, as if you were exploring for the first time. Her hands found your waist, loosely gripping the fabric of your top. You reciprocated, running your thumb over the hem of her tank top and accidentally brushing over a patch of bare skin. She flinched at the unfamiliarity, and you pulled away.

“Are you ok?” You whispered, forehead pressed against hers. She nodded, half-lidded eyes not leaving your lips. “Can I…?” Your fingers hesitated just under her tank top, barely grazing the skin of her stomach. She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. For the first time in her life, she let her body do the talking as she pressed into you, capturing you in another kiss.

Slowly, surely, your fingers inched up the underside of her tank top. You took the time to trace little shapes into her skin, moving from her waist, to her stomach, to the underside of her rib cage. Her breath hitched with each new touch; Hazel had always been ticklish, but the way your fingertips danced along her torso made her shiver rather than squirm. As her comfortability levels grew, your hand traveled up, further, further…

“Holy shit, they were really gonna fuck!”

PJ’s grating voice startled you apart like an unwelcome infomercial in the dead of night. You glared at your intruder standing in the wide-open doorway, a wicked smirk plastered on her face. “Lose track of time?”

Hazel tugged at your wrists, and it wasn’t until that moment when you realized your hands were still under her tank top (much to PJ’s entertainment). With a mumbled apology, you detached yourself and helped her smooth out the fabric bunched around her ribs. Both of your faces were burning with a mixture of embarrassment and fluster.

“You could’ve knocked, you know…” Hazel muttered, watching the floor as she left the closet.

“I could’ve,” PJ admitted. “But where’s the fun in that?”

The rest of the party watched with amusement as you and Hazel exited the closet. Your flushed features and darting glances did not go unnoticed, prompting a series of snorts and stifled laughter. Forget David Fincher, you two were your own movie.

“So, I assume it’s safe to say you’ve made up?” Josie asked cheekily, squeezing Isabel’s hand, who bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing.

“We sure did,” you said with a sheepish grin.

Brittany couldn’t help but snicker. “Guess that explains your rosy cheeks.”

You exchanged looks with Hazel as an idea suddenly popped into your head. “Actually, Hazel’s cheeks are warm because she doesn’t feel too good.”

“I don’t?” Hazel asked.

“You don’t,” you repeated, shooting her a look. “In fact, oh my, I do feel warm! We must be coming down with something.”

“Wait, but I don’t feel…” Hazel seemed confused until she met your gaze and understood your plan. She raised her hand to her forehead, making a big show of collapsing into the basement wall. “Oh, woe is me! It is true! I seem to have fallen ill! Cough, cough, wheeze!”

You had to fight the corners of your mouth to keep from curling. Jesus, this girl couldn’t act for shit.

“Yes… anyway we need to leave. Right now. We don’t want to get any of you sick.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s the reason,” Josie sent you a knowing smirk.

You grabbed Hazel’s hand and ran with her up the stairs and out of the basement, the partygoers calling after you with whoops, hollers, and exaggerated kissing sounds. As the basement door creaked shut behind you, the last thing you heard was PJ’s whiny complaint. “No fair! Hazel gets pussy before I do?”

The two of you rushed hand-in-hand from Josie’s front door and piled into Hazel’s car, you in the passenger seat as usual.

She turned to you, keeping her free hand on the wheel. “Are your parents home?”

“They never are.”

Hazel had to release your hand to put her car in reverse, pulling out of the driveway like a madwoman. You anticipated her fingers intertwining with yours again, but instead, she reached over and rested her hand on your upper thigh. Her thumb gently brushed across the denim of your jeans, sending flutters through your stomach. Hazel was getting bold.

The drive back to your house was nothing but perilous. Hazel had always been a reckless driver, but the sharp turns and disregarded stop signs were wild even for her. Arriving at your house, she parked haphazardly, jumping out before rushing to throw open your door.

“Well that was fast,” you teased as Hazel helped you out of the car. “Looking forward to something?”

Words seemed to fail her as she silently took your face in her hands, kissing you with the desperation of a castaway grasping for a lifeline. She had you pressed into the passenger door, hips flush against yours. Your palms rested on her collarbone, feeling her rapid heartbeat.

You gently pushed her away, almost swearing you heard the faintest whimper leave her lips. “Why don’t we take this inside?” You suggested, to which Hazel could only nod.

The two of you stumbled into your house, barely taking the time to break away from each other to see where you were going. When you eventually made it to your bedroom, you slammed the door behind you and Hazel thrust you against the white wood. You relaxed into her, expecting more kisses, but looked up to find her features filled with apprehension.

“Hazel…” you whispered, moving your hands to her shoulders. “Is everything ok?”

“Y-yeah…” she stuttered, her gaze dropping slightly. She had seized you by the hips, fingers hooked in your belt loops, hands beginning to tremble.

You gently lifted her jaw. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? It’s ok if you changed your mind…”

“No! No, please. I need you so bad you have no idea…” she cut you off, her confession making you blush. “I just… I don’t… I mean… I’ve watched some porn and read fanfiction but…”

“Hazel, sex isn’t anything like porn or fanfiction.”

“Oh fuck, it isn’t?” She asked in disbelief, her wide eyes making you chuckle.

“Why don’t you let me lead, then?” You suggested, calming her with a tender kiss on her jawline. “Go lay down for me, yeah?”

Hazel did as she was told and moved to lie down on your pale-blue bedspread, a favorite of yours because you thought it matched her eyes. You stayed behind, stripping down to a bra and panties as Hazel watched with unblinking eyes.

“Relax, my love,” you purred, climbing onto the bed and hovering over her. You shifted, hips brushing against hers momentarily, causing Hazel’s eyelids to flutter and a sigh to leave her lips. A smirk crossed your face. “Sensitive, are we?”

Hazel could barely speak through her pathetic little whines. “P-please…”

You planted a sweet kiss on her lips before trailing down to her neck, exploring her soft skin, discovering unknown sensitive spots: her earlobe, the nape of her jaw, along her collarbone. Your fingers flitted underneath the hem of her tank top, creeping up, up, until you felt the cool nylon of her sports bra against your palm. Hazel shuddered at the newfound sensation, and you pulled back.

“Still good?”

“Good,” she breathed. “Yes, good.”

You hooked your finger under the neck of her tank top, coaxing her to sit up slightly. Pinching her shirt collar, you slid it off her shoulders before lifting the bottom of her tank, stopping with it bunched under her armpits. She finished the job for you, and you tossed the shirts aside, not caring where they landed.

Now she was left in a sports bra the color of fog, her nipples erect and poking through the fabric. You slipped two fingers under her band, looking to her for approval. She nodded, letting you peel it off until her tits sprang free.

“Holy shit, Haze,” you muttered, practically drooling at the sight of her naked breasts. Underneath the compressive sports bras, hidden beneath layers of baggy clothing, Hazel had perfect tits: round, firm, with little pink buds sitting like cherries on top of two scoops of vanilla ice cream. “How could you keep these from me?”

Hazel let out a laugh that sounded more like a breath, not entirely sure how to respond. Leaning down, you took one of the swollen buds in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while palming her other breast. Hazel threw her head back against the pillow, letting out cries of pleasure while her hands entangled themselves in your hair. You took your time, caressing, suckling, exploring every inch of her bare chest, memorizing each unique detail: a freckle on her décolletage, a vaguely mushroom-shaped birthmark hidden beneath her left breast.

She was, for lack of a better word, perfect. You had been so distracted, so deeply buried in her cleavage, that you hadn’t noticed time slipping away until you felt her pressing down on your head. Your name flew from her mouth in a desperate gasp. “I can’t… p-please… keep going…”

“So impatient,” you teased, mouth releasing her nipple with a pop. Hazel only whined in response, bucking against your stomach, hips urgently searching for some kind of release. You smirked, leaving her breasts and peppering kisses down her stomach, stopping when you reached the waistband of her gym shorts.

“Off?” You asked, though it was merely a formality at this point; you already knew the answer. She made a noise of approval, a mix between a groan and a squeak, and shifted her hips to allow you to slip them off her legs.

Now, there stood nothing between you two but the thin cotton of her slate-colored boxers. She was writhing, silently begging you to rip them off and have at her, but you couldn’t help but stop and admire the growing spot of wetness that had accumulated through the fabric. Her hips sputtered, shook, pairing with her pitiful whimpers to plead for attention. You, however, had other plans.

“What’s your rush, Haze? We’ve got all night, don’t we?” You were teasing her now, a wicked grin appearing as your fingertips danced along the elastic band of her boxers.

Her raised pelvis came crashing down onto the bedspread as she cried out in defeat. “Fuck… please… just take them off…”

You frowned, mocking her, using your thumb to gently encircle her clothed cunt. Her head sank further into the pillow, broken moans falling out of her mouth like beads from a shattered necklace.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Hazel. Do you always get this wet?” You asked in disbelief. Her boxers felt like a saturated sponge.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, fighting to keep her speech intelligible. “I don’t think so, maybe. I… I need you… really bad…”

“Need me?” You replied cheekily, wrapping your fingers around the elastic and slipping her boxers off in one quick motion.

Your girlfriend's naked body was now fully on display before you. You had to take a moment, admiring details of the areas she had never let you see before: a small mole on her outer thigh, or the way her hip bones protruded to form little ridges across her pelvis. Her chest heaved, lips parted ever so slightly as she awaited your next move.

“Hazel?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Are you ready?”

She took in a breath, blowing it out big. “More than anything.”

You positioned your head between her legs, leaving feather-light kisses up and down her inner thighs. Her head tossed from side-to-side, body struggling to keep still with your mouth so close to where she needed you. Testing the waters, you ghosted a kiss over her clit, watching as she shuddered upon contact.

God she was sensitive.

Finally taking mercy on her, you licked a long, broad stripe up the length of her cunt, tongue lingering on her clit perhaps a bit longer than necessary. The cries that erupted from her throat were enough to send shocks through your own body. You moved to straddle her leg, grinding against it while you ate her out—a shift not going unnoticed by Hazel, only spurring her forward.

“Ohmygod… Ohmygod fuck…” your name tumbled from her lips amidst her breathless moans. She squirmed under your touch—every lick, each roll against her shin setting her body ablaze. A smirk tugged at your lips as your mouth created a vortex around her clit, causing her eyes to roll back like a slot machine landing on the jackpot.

You didn’t get to do this for very long before her plush thighs enveloped your head. “W-what…? It feels… I think, I think I’m…”

“Breathe, baby girl,” you cooed, never taking your mouth off of her. “Just relax, cum for me. Fuck you’re doing so well…”

Her hands flew back to your scalp, legs shaking, guttural cries erupting from her throat as her orgasm consumed her. Fuck she sounded pretty. Her thighs kept you right where she needed you, only loosening once her breathing evened and she slowly came back to reality.

You lifted your head once her legs collapsed onto your bedspread, her bones feeling like jello. “Was that alright, Haze?” You asked, crawling back up to lay next to her.

“Wow,” she sighed, pupils dilated into big black buttons. “Just wow.” She laid there a moment, silently recovering, wearing a dazed, blissful expression. But then her face shifted into something sour, almost uneasy. “I don’t, I mean… I don’t know how…”

“It’s fine,” you ensured.

“It’s not,” she argued. “I mean, you were… and on my leg…”

“Hey, Hazel,” you brushed her hair back, letting your fingers fall. “We don’t have to do anything else. Tonight was about you.”

“No, no. Please, I wanna fuck you so bad, I’ve been daydreaming about it for so long.”

You couldn’t have blushed harder if you tried.

“I just… I haven’t… like you did with that girl from summer camp. What if I try and it isn’t anything like that?”

“Hazel…” you reached for her face, kissing her reassuringly. “It won’t be anything like it was with her.”

Her face fell. “It won’t?”

“Of course not,” you replied. “What I did with her, it was just sex. Nothing like this, this is completely different.”

“Why?”

You had to gather up the courage to say your next words. “Hazel… I’m in love with you.”

She finally faced you with wide eyes. “You’ve never said that before.”

“I know,” you said. “I’m saying it now.”

That blissful expression from earlier returned to her pretty face. “I love you too.”

You giggled, and she pulled you into another kiss. Her weight shifted until you were on your back, her body covering yours, legs on either side of your hips. She tried to emulate you, peppering kisses down your neck and chest until she reached the satin cusp of your bra.

“How do… uh… I only wear sports bras…”

You sat up, guiding her hands around to your back and helping her unhook your clasp. She slid it off your shoulders and tossed it aside without care, her attention fixated purely on the newly-exposed flesh in front of her. “Holy fuck,” she exclaimed on a sigh.

Another smirk crept across your face. “What? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think these were the first you’d ever seen!”

She shot you an unamused look before diving in, suckling at one of your breasts and pawing at the other. Her eyes stayed unblinking, watching you as your head relaxed further into the pillow and soft sounds spilled from your lips.

“Am I doing ok?” She asked in a whisper.

“More than,” your voice came out soft and sweet, causing the tips of your lover’s ears to tint pink.

Hazel trailed downward, her soft lips leaving kisses all the way down to your stomach, her tousled hair tickling your skin. She paused at your cotton panties, her thumb passing over the fabric with uncertainty.

“Need help taking those off too?” You quipped.

“Definitely not,” she replied, seizing the waistband and sliding them off your legs.

Hazel gazed upon your naked body as if she were an artist, and you her masterpiece. Her hands hesitated before resting on your ribs, fingernails gently scratching down the length of your sides. She bent down, planting kisses on your hip bones, reveling in your quiet whimpers.

“Hazel…” you purred, and she got the message. Her hand slipped between your legs, fingertips tracing your entrance before sliding inside.

“Ouch,” you hissed, sitting up in pain.

Startled, Hazel pulled her hand back. “W-what? What happened? Shit, did I hurt you?”

“Kinda…” you paused, trying to pinpoint the discomfort. It almost felt like she had unraveled a paperclip and impaled your core—an unpleasant sensation you couldn’t explain until you saw…

“Hazel,” you exclaimed with a laugh. “You kept your rings on!”

“Yeah…” she muttered, cradling the hand that burned you. “I thought you liked my rings.”

“I love your rings,” you assured. “Just not inside me.”

“But the characters in the fanfictions I’ve read keep their rings on, and the feedback is always positive!”

There was nothing you could do to stop yourself from giggling at her protest. “Hazel, those fanfictions are written by people who probably haven’t experienced the real thing. Trust me, rings up there? Uncomfortable at best.”

Hazel nodded, mumbling a sheepish apology and removing her rings before slipping two fingers back in. “Better?”

“Much.”

With her confidence temporarily shaken, Hazel began to move against you, slowly, steadily, studying your facial expressions. Each gasp, every subtle twitch helped her gauge what you wanted, what you needed from her. She may have gone in blind, but she was a gifted learner, and you her favorite subject.

Soon after Hazel regained her certainty, you started to feel that familiar ache within your core. “Hazel… doing so good… my pretty girl… I’m so…”

She perked up, still keeping her hands where you seemed to want them. “Really? You mean it? Should I do anything different?”

You were about to shake your head, but stopped when you got an idea. “Do this with your fingers,” you demonstrated by curling your own.

She followed suit, reveling in your little mewls when she scratched against your g-spot.

But you weren’t finished yet. “Fuck… Hazel… almost… now just move your palm…”

You didn’t even get to finish your sentence. Hazel curved her palm, stimulating your clit, and your orgasm crashed over you like a flash flood breaking through a dam. Your back arched, legs shaking, chest heaving as you rode out your climax. Hazel wouldn’t, couldn’t look away; a moment ago she had been naive, inexperienced, but now the prettiest girl she’d ever seen was creaming all over her fingers, and it was all her own doing.

Her movements halted at what she hoped was the right moment. She withdrew her fingers, curiosity overtaking her as she popped them into her mouth and moaned at the taste, instantly regretting not going down on you. Her mind swirled, flashbacks of what just happened mixing with the oblivion of what to do next.

“Hazel,” you said finally. “Come lay down.”

She crawled back up to you, laying her head on the pillow. “Did I do ok?”

You giggled. “You did perfect.”

A grin spread across her face, reaching from ear-to-ear. Her eyelids were already drooping. “I’m so tired.”

“Me too,” you rolled over, wrapping your arm around her waist and nuzzling into her hair. “Go to sleep, my love. You’ve had a big night.”

She snuggled up closer to you, muttering a barely-perceptible ‘I love you’ before drifting off to sleep.

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