#but his game was always really really really hard hits right on the edge of legal

[em1i2a3]

I Saw You In A Dream (Part One of Two)

Bjorn x fem!reader

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I’m really getting into this format right now and I am honestly loving this community a lot! I wrote this one kind of out of the blue, but I broke it up into two parts because I was really wanting to build things up more. For this particular part I was hoping to bring some aspects of Alien Isolation into this by including the Seegson Synthetics (or the ‘Working Joes’), but don’t worry it isn’t that integral to the plot, and I’m trying to not touch the lore too much. I hope you guys enjoy this first part though, I will be working on this and many more so keep an eye out for the updates :)

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Blood/Surgical Procedures, Some Angst, and a little tiny bit of fluff, no smut in this chapter, keep an eye out for the next part tho hehe.

A P.S From the Writer: The title is taken from a song by The Japanese House. I typically listen to music when I write to put me in a good headspace so the song that I tune into to wrap up the chapter usually inspires the title. I will probably make a playlist at some point.

Word Count: 5,615 (Another chunky one!)

The blueprints were laid out on the table. The only light that illuminated the trailer was just above where everyone was sitting.

”This.” Tyler points with the edge of his pen, “Is where we would enter.” He instructed.

”How do you know the doors will even be open?” Bjorn chimed in, interrupting the game plan Tyler was trying to lay out for the team.

“Because I’ve scoped out the place already. You think I’m going to send you in without knowing the ins and outs of the fucking place?” Bjorn shrugged.

”Don’t know, that’s why I asked.” He shot back, walking away from the blueprints. You glanced over at him, watching him settle on the couch with a rough sigh, extending his arm out across the top, getting himself into a comfortable position away from everyone.

”Bjorn, you know you’re gonna have to look the blueprints over to actually know where the fuck you’re going right?” Navarro commented, staring daggers at him from over her shoulder.

”I’m sure I’ll be able to get a play-by-play from all of you, so I’ll stay right here, thank you.” He responded.

“This is an abandoned Weyland-Yutani building Bjorn. We need to be on our fucking game if we don’t want to get caught, now is not the time to have one of your fits.” You said, the backs of your ankles hitting gently against the cabinets below where you were sitting. You knew Tyler had been planning this for a while, and he had worked hard to obtain the blueprints of the place. Not only that, but you knew he was worried about Bjorn copping an attitude, he always did that when he was either jealous or when he didn’t have anything better to do with his time. In this situation, you couldn’t tell why he was being this way.

“If it’s abandoned I’m sure we won’t have any issues, honey.” He smirked. You could feel your blood begin to boil, as your cheeks turned a blush red. He definitely knew how to push everyone’s buttons.

”You think nobody has the same idea of scavenging the place for parts?” Tyler’s voice was filled with disbelief, taken aback by how stupid one person could be. “This is basically a suicide mission if we don’t have a plan. It could be a trap for all we know.”

“Then why are we even trying?” Bjorn questioned, trying to catch Tyler on his own words, his grip tightened on the table, and his teeth bit the flesh on the inside of his lip.

”Because if we don’t try we will be slaves to the corporation for the rest of our fucking lives. If you want that, then you can suit yourself, but we are willing to give it a try.” He said, motioning to the group. At this point everyone was staring at Bjorn, trying to see if any of his features were indicating that he was going to give in and return to his spot at the table, but when he didn’t budge, Tyler just continued with explaining the plan.

————

“Do you know why he was being such a dick today?” Kay asked, leaning against your workstation, looking down on you, watching as your hands worked on fixing your headlamp. You shook your head, wiping the sweat off your forehead, making a note that you needed to find some spare parts to fix your fan.

“I don’t really care, he’s gonna get himself killed if he comes with us though, that’s all I know.” You commented, your nimble fingers working to rewire one of the cords that had been fried. A pang of silence slipped into the room, as you glanced up at her, seeing a small frown appear on her lips. “What? What do you want me to do? Talk to him? Convince him to ask Tyler to show him the blueprints and go over the plan again with him?” You said, the disbelief in your voice almost palpable.

”Rain, Navarro and I have already tried, and Andy….Well you know he won’t take well to Andy.” She says, watching you lean back in your chair so you can get a better look at her, seeing the hidden desperation in her pleading brown eyes. Even though Bjorn could be an asshole at times she still cared about him, and she wanted to make sure that he was going to be safe. Kay would always tell you that family was family regardless of how stupid or mean they could be at times, this was one of those times. You placed the headlamp down on the desk with a defeated sigh.

”Fine…I’ll try, but I’m not promising you anything, if he walks back in with a black eye, don’t blame me. He really pushed my buttons today.” You replied, standing up from your seat, grabbing your sweater, cigarettes and lighter from your work area. She nodded with an understanding smile.

”I know he isn’t fun to be around most of the time, but whether you like it or not we need to have each other's backs, even if it may be hard.” You pulled the sweater over your head, fluffing your hair up, and shaking out the static, shoving your hands into the big pocket to make sure the fabric was covering your oil-stained tank top.

“Yeah, yeah I get it.” You sighed, “I’m gonna go have a cigarette, I’ll update you if my approach works.” She nodded, as you walked by her, down the cramped space of your work area, managing to shift by all the things that you had stacked by the door. You stumbled out into the living room area of the trailer, pushing open the door to step outside onto the makeshift porch you all pitched in to create. You were surprised to see that Bjorn was already outside smoking, sitting on one of the crates everyone used as chairs, watching people go by in their machines. The bright work lights above you were dimmed as the workers were trying to fix the generators that powered them, which allowed your eyes to easily adjust to the surroundings.

“Hey,” You greeted causally. Bjorn glanced over at you, eyebrows going up at your voice as you took up your spot on the other side of the door, leaving a large gap between the two of you. Your hands dug around the pocket of your sweater, slipping one of the cigarettes out of your previously opened pack, and retrieving your lighter in the process. You wrapped your lips around the filter, shifting slightly to get it positioned well before bringing the flame up to the end, breathing in as you lit it. You slid the lighter back in with your pack, and pulled the cigarette away from your lips, blowing the smoke out.

“Y’know, if you’re out here to talk to me about getting on my knees and begging Tyler for forgiveness so he can show me the blueprints and go over the plan again, I’m not gonna do it.” You looked over at him, motioning to your cigarette.

”Does it look like I’m out here to talk to you about that? You made your choice, I’m not here to coddle you like the people in there do.” You commented, shifting your head to the trailer, “They actually care about you.”

“And you?” He pressed, the end of his cigarette glowing, as he took a deep drag, his cheeks hollowing out while doing so. You shrugged.

”Me? I’m indifferent. Couldn’t care less what you choose to do, but I always have to play middleman and run interference when you get out of hand.” You lied. Even when Bjorn was being an absolute trouble maker you still had that little piece of yourself that wanted to make sure he was okay and safe, and breathing. You were hard on yourself and practically refused to admit that it was more than just a friendly concern you had for him. He rolled his eyes, pulling the cigarette away from his lips, forcing the smoke out of his mouth as he spoke.

”Yeah but you don’t have to do that.” He states.

”I’m sorry, it seems like you haven’t met your cousin Kay before, maybe I should introduce you to her sometime.” You shot back, flicking some ashes off onto the ground below you, crossing an arm over your torso. He smirked.

“I’ll repeat myself again sweetheart, since it seems like you didn’t hear me the first time. You don’t have to do that.” Your eyes shot daggers at him, watching his tongue lick his bottom lip, moistening it. “You always have the option to say no, you just choose to step in 'cause that’s the way you show you care.” He stated.

”No. That’s the way I keep the peace.” You emphasized, taking a quick drag “And fix your stupid mistakes.” You added, blowing the smoke out in the process.

“My mistakes?” He exclaimed, pointing at himself, a laugh escaping his throat, “You’re fucking ridiculous love.” You kicked around some rocks that surrounded you, as you stepped toward where Bjorn sat, watching his back straighten.

”Remember the time the mines laid you off 'cause you wouldn’t stop fucking around on the job?” He glanced away from you, looking down at the ground, the rocks crunching under your feet as you leaned into the crate he was sitting on with the side of your hip. “Tyler called, told me all about it, he was revved up because you didn’t have anything else apart from that to fall back on, asked me for a favour to help you out, and practically begged me.” You inhaled against the filter feeling a gentle burn in your lungs, breathing out a cloud of smoke. Bjorn’s eyes returned to you, watching your movements closely, examining your facial features, the way your pupils were blown out due to the dim lighting, and how your lips pursed as you continued the trip down memory lane.

“I refused to help at first, you put yourself into that situation so why should I care? Then all the others called me, and I couldn’t stand it. So I called your manager and made a trade with him to fix some equipment. He hired you back the very next day...Do you remember?” You could see his jaw clench in the dim lighting.

”Yeah. I remember. Didn’t know that was you, I thought I-“

”Was just that important?” You interrupted, your eyes meeting his shiny blue irises, catching him staring, a smirk drawing up on the corners of your mouth as you took another drag from your cigarette, blowing it off to the side out of courtesy, shaking your head. “No. He was adamant about keeping you away from the place actually. It took a lot of convincing.” Bjorn bit the inside of his cheek, tapping off the excess ash onto the rocks below him.

“The people in there knew how much you needed that job to keep you distracted. They care about you.” You took a moment to take another drag, breathing out before leaning in close to him, almost as if you were going to kiss him. “My honest recommendation for you would be to go in there and ask Tyler to go through that plan before you get yourself killed…Because that will be one mistake I won’t be able to fix.” Your voice was smooth, and sultry in a way even if the context of the conversation didn’t fit that type of tone. It made Bjorn’s stomach twist in knots hearing it change so quickly. He dragged his teeth along his bottom lip. You tilted your head a bit, before leaning in even closer, swaying to the side right when you were in close enough proximity so your mouth was at his ear. You pressed the cigarette out on the metal of the trailer, hearing a gentle hiss. Bjorn closed his eyes a disappointed sigh exiting his mouth, feeling your warm breath tickle his ear. “Thought I was gonna do something else?” You asked, leaning back to put your unfinished cigarette into your pocket, a playful smirk dusting your lips, as you shook your head, seeing his dazed eyes studying you.

“In your dreams Bjorn.”

———-

It was you, Tyler, Bjorn, Rain, Andy, and Navarro standing outside the fence that surrounded the abandoned Weyland building the next week. Kay had come down with a fever that day, so she stayed behind to recover and keep the trailer under supervision.

”Andy, you’re with me in the basement, we have to see if there’s anything valuable in the computer system. Rain, Navarro, you two stay together, search through the first two levels.” Tyler paused, looking over at you apologetically, “You and Bjorn will go to the top floor.” You nodded at him sharply, as he threw over a walkie-talkie to you. “Keep in touch, okay?” You slipped the communication device into your pocket, adjusting your headlamp.

”We will meet back here in an hour, right?” You asked, making sure all the plans were understood. Tyler nodded. You sighed, looking over at Bjorn, “Alright, let’s get going.” Motioning your head towards the hole in the fence that Tyler had stretched out a few moments before, fixing the handgun that you had strapped on your thigh. Bjorn crouched down, sneaking underneath the secret entrance as you followed closely behind. You glanced over your shoulder, giving the crew one last look before running towards the building.

From the outside, the building looked like it had been out of commission for decades, even though it had been a mere month since the corporation had let all its employees go. None of the security lights were on, and the emergency lights that were backups for the outage were barely working, this allowed the both of you to easily sneak in through the side door.

The inside of the building looked as if time had stopped within it. Papers were still strewn about the desks, coffee mugs half full with films of mold encrusting the liquid that remained at the bottom of them, and of course brochures with advertisements painted on them, promoting their featured items; insurance, synthetics, and computers.

“How’s it looking?” Tyler’s voice echoed from the walkie-talkie. You dug into your pocket and brought the mic up to your mouth.

”Looks like a building that was owned by a multimillion-dollar corporation. Making our way up to the top level now, I’ll call you if I need you.” You stated, sliding the device back into your pocket, tilting your head towards the emergency stairway.

”There’s an elevator right there.” Bjorn pointed out, you paused.

”Yeah? And this is an abandoned fucking building. If you want to risk getting stuck in there by all means go ahead…I’m gonna take the stairs.” He sighed.

”Always your way or the highway huh?” He commented, pushing by you to go towards the door, once again with you trailing behind him closely. You turned on your headlamp, and walked up in silence, your hand holding the handle of your gun, making sure you were prepared if you ran into anything. By the time you reached the top level, Bjorn was winded, hunching over his knees to catch his breath.

”My god that was a fucking workout.” He said, wheezing slightly. You stared down at him, your eyebrows raising at the way he tried to stabilize himself. It took him a few minutes to finally get his breathing under control before he stood up straight, his face darkened by the blood that had rushed to his head from the positioning, a sigh escaping his lips.

“You good now princess?” You asked mocking the nickname that he used with some people, catching him off guard.

”Yeah yeah. I’m fine.” He brushed the comment off, pushing against the door of the top floor, walking into the dimly lit room, with you following. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Bjorn murmured, you looked up at him, then followed his gaze to what he was going on about. It was a room full of desks, and different designs for synthetics, with a wide range of styles, big, and small, from human-looking to robotic and many more. One of the models stood out more than the most, one that you had never seen before. They were scattered among the rest, but you couldn’t recognize the make even though you had done extensive research on Weyland's production scheme, their goal of making the synthetics as human-looking as possible. These were extremely far away from that goal. The models looked cold and rubbery, the pale blue finish making your spine straighten. No wonder they wanted to make them look human, You thought.

“Just our fucking luck we get sent to a level that has a bunch of synthetics.” Bjorn pressed his fingers into the sides of his head, continuing to rifle off expletives as you grabbed the walkie-talkie.

”Tyler, we’re on the top level.” You informed, trying to make it quick so he didn’t catch Bjorn’s rant, but to no avail.

”What’s going on up there? What’s all the noise?” His voice was muffled, cutting in and out. You figured he might have been going down into the basement and losing connection.

”There’s synthetics up here.” You whispered, your eyes following Bjorn’s rapid, and chaotic pacing, his hands running through his hair nervously. There was a beat of silence, as you pressed down on the side of the device again, “Hello?” You mumbled, realizing that you lost connection. You slid the walkie-talkie back into your pocket, ignoring Bjorn’s panic, your eyes scanned the surrounding area, your hand clenching the gun on your leg once again. From where you were standing you could see files on each desk with prototype names written down on bright green sticky notes. You moved towards one of them, flipping it open to look at the typed notes that you assumed the developer had written out, trying to find any information you could on the state the synthetic was in.

“-Fucking stupid goddamn things are gonna kill us.” You turned your attention back to Bjorn, watching him seethe. You knew he had always had a weird thing about synthetics, and you didn’t blame him, he didn’t have a positive experience with any of them, except Andy, and that was saying something. He always toted the line of tolerating his presence, but this reaction was overboard even to his standards.

“Bjorn-” You cut in.

“I knew this was a bad idea, I fucking knew we were going to run into something like this-”

“Bjorn!” You yelled over him, causing his voice to cut off mid-sentence, stopping him dead in his tracks, “They’re not going to turn on.” You lifted the file in the air for him to look at what you were reading, “Their software isn’t even installed yet, they’re just the shells.” You threw the papers on the table, now going through the drawers, shuffling the contents around to see if there was anything that could be of use.

“H-How do you know that all of them are like that?” He stuttered out, slowly moving towards you, hoping that if anything were to happen there would be an advantage in numbers. His eyes glanced over at the synthetic you stood beside, the hazy blue skin tone practically glowing in the darkness that surrounded the both of you. A shiver went up his spine, seeing the unnaturally empty look the eyes had.

“Well, we’ll just keep checking the files and searching the desks for parts. The power is out in the building so I don’t think-.” Suddenly the sound of the bright fluorescent lights turning on interrupted your explanation, your eyes burning from your pupils trying to adjust to the harsh change, a conjoined hiss echoing between you and Bjorn. The low hum of the computers turning on grabbed your attention immediately, you glanced up at the screen to look at what was loading, not knowing what kind of codes were popping up.

“You were saying?” Bjorn commented, looking over your shoulder so he could see what you were seeing, not realizing how close he was to your exposed neck, his hot breath causing your skin to become sticky. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, ignoring the feeling, a loud locking noise echoing through the space.

“Fuck.” You muttered, running over to the emergency staircase door, pushing against it, not feeling any give to it, “Oh fuck.” Bjorn let out a forced laugh.

“We’re fucking screwed.” He leaned against the desk, his head tilted back to look at the ceiling. “We are so FUCKING screwed!” He screamed, kicking the synthetic in front of him causing it to fall onto the ground, unplugging from the computer. You flinched at his outburst.

“Bjorn calm down, please…” He looked over at you, his head shaking back and forth.

“Calm down? We are stuck in a fucking room chalked FULL of synthetics. We have no idea what their directives are, and we don’t have communications with that stupid fuckhead in the basement. Then you tell me to calm down?!” He yelled, staring down at the synthetic he had kicked. You stood against the door, grabbing the walkie-talkie out of your pocket, and pressing down on the button on the side, hands shaking from all the screaming as you kept your eyes locked on Bjorn’s.

“Tyler…Are you there?” The room's silence was deafening at that point, all you could hear was the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights. From the other end of the line all you could hear was static, the sound of something scraping against the mic. “Tyler god damn it are you there?!” You snapped, noticing a pair of eyes begin to glow a dim red in the distance, your breath hitching in your throat. Bjorn could see your facial expressions change, twisting and forming into something filled with sheer panic. All your skin had lost colour, and you turned pale, almost translucent, your breathing speeding up, as you tried to get yourself back into check. “Tyler please, if you can hear me, we are locked in on the top level…We need help.” Your voice was in a low whisper, your eyes still trained on the synthetic that began to tap around its body, trying to locate the plug that kept it connected to the computer as you slowly slid yourself down the door. The thought of their directives now coming into perspective.

“W-What are you doing?” Bjorn questioned, moving towards you, a confused look appearing on his face. You were shaking your head, watching another set of eyes glow red, and another.

“Bjorn…Get down.” You said through gritted teeth, your hand going towards your gun again. He crouched onto his knees, getting in front of you, looking at your frantic eye movements, now drawing his attention to what you were looking at.

“Fuck.” Was all he could manage to get out as one of the synthetics unplugged itself, its head slowly, methodically, turning side to side, like it was scanning the area. You were about to say something but Bjorn’s hand clasped against your mouth tightly, his eyes glaring over at you, the pointer finger of his other hand coming up to his lips, signalling for you to be quiet.

“Get under a desk.” He mouthed, “And don’t make a sound.” He added, watching you nod, his hand slowly leaving your mouth, your eyes searching his for a moment before shifting onto your knees, and crawling towards one of the nearby desks, trying your best to be as quiet as possible. Your ears were in tune with how the synthetics slowly began to move around, not making a noise, like they were trying to be as sneaky as you and Bjorn. Your movements were quick as you shoved yourself under the nearest desk, your back pressed up against the hardwood, hoping that you were hidden enough. You looked across the way, seeing Bjorn take his spot across from you, under his separate spot, his eyes trailing over to you almost like he was silently checking in. From behind the desk, you could hear two objects drop to the ground, the sound of feet shuffling entering the environment soon after. Bjorn’s gaze locked in above the desk, his jaw tightening as he observed what was going on above you.

“Guys. Are you there?” Tyler’s voice echoed through the walkie-talkie line, your hand immediately grabbing it out of your pocket to turn it off, but it was too late. The synthetic had already made its way around the desk in one swift movement.

“We are only here to help.” The modulated voice said, grabbing onto your wrist as it dragged you out from under the desk, tugging you up onto your feet, “Just hold still.” Then everything went black.

---------

“Tyler, drive for fuck sake, I don’t know if he’s breathing.” Rain’s voice ripped through the darkness.

“I’m trying!” He yelled back. You could feel your head pulsing as it lulled to the side, your neck feeling limp. You struggled to take in a breath without your lungs feeling like they were about to collapse. A whistling sound escaped your throat as you tried to breathe in and out..

“Andy what’s going on with her back there?!” Navarro’s voice echoed through the truck, sounding exhausted as the wheels hit three consecutive bumps in a row, shaking everyone in the enclosed space.

“She may have an internal bleed of some sort, I hear wheezing, and she is cold to the touch.” He responded calmly, feeling his hands run down the sides of your ribcage, a low cry escaping your lips as he touched what you presumed to be a bruise on your right side. “Rain, I don’t know what is happening.” Andy’s voice trembled slightly, turning you to your left, as a louder, more guttural cry echoed through the space, your chest feeling like it was being ripped out from your flesh. Your lungs were on fire, as your mouth opened, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible, another whistling noise accompanying your breaths. A high-pitched moan now joined in with the noises you were making. You tried to force your eyes open, but nothing was working.

“Bjorn…It’s okay, we are all here, just calm down, you’re in the truck.” Rain explained, you could feel Andy’s fingers press down onto one area of your ribcage, tapping against them.

“Rain I think she’s got blood around her lungs, the sounds are dull, she won’t be able to breathe properly until we relieve the pressure and remove the clot-.” Andy’s words caught in his throat, as there was aggressive movement happening from in front of you.

“Bjorn, relax man, don’t move, we will take care of her.” Navarro said softly “She’s gonna be alright.” You couldn’t make out what he was trying to say, but you could hear his voice, the hoarseness of it, the jumbled wording coming out like gibberish. From the darkness you could hear things being moved around, hearing someone searching for something.

”Andy here. Take this. Do what you need to do to keep her alive.” Rain interrupted, her tone firm. You felt your sweater go up, as cold fingertips pressed into your ribcage, trying to locate the space between. He stopped momentarily, keeping his finger on the spot. You could hear shuffling, and then the sharp tip of a blade pressing into the spot Andy had found. A screech escaping your throat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Andy repeated over and over again, as he dug his finger into the slit it made, creating a bigger hole, tearing your flesh. You could feel hot sticky blood run down your skin, as he removed his finger, replacing it with something hard and plastic, threading it through.

“What the fuck are you doing to her?! Get your fucking hands off of her!” Bjorn yelled, his voice muffled by something, you couldn’t tell if it was your ears or something that was physically wrong with him that was causing his words to sound like that.

“Bjorn, he is helping her…Look at the tube.” Rain said, there was movement once again, as your chest began to feel less and less weighed down, until finally you could draw in a sharp breath, letting the air fill your lungs with ease.

————

The first thing you heard when you regained consciousness was the soft snoring of someone. It was calm, quiet, soothing in a way. You moved slightly, as pain shot up your side, a hiss escaping your throat. You could feel that you were propped up with a few pillows behind your back, as you forced your eyes open, the dim light of your cramped room coming into focus. You swallowed, taking in your surroundings, noticing Bjorn sitting at your bedside with his head tilted back pressing against the wall behind him. He looked roughed up, his face filled with scrapes that looked like they were almost healed. His lip was busted and bruised, and there was a bright red spot just below his eye, not being able to identify if it was a scar or not. If he looked like that you couldn’t imagine what kind of damage was done to you.

“B-B-Bjorn.” You breathed, your voice hollow and dry, as you reached out your hand, tapping against his leg. He hummed, his eyes slowly blinking open, his gaze meeting yours, a small smile coming up on his lips.

”Hey….Good morning.” He said in a joking tone, moving his chair so he was closer to your bedside. You swallowed loudly.

”How…How long have I…” You struggled to speak, watching him grab a glass of water off from your bedside table, holding the straw for you so you could drink, the liquid cooling the inside of your chest.

”About a week.” He responded softly, pulling the straw away from your lips, “You had a few clots in your lungs…Andy was able to remove them with this makeshift chest tube thing he created in the back of the truck, once they were out it was like you slipped into this deep sleep…We didn’t think you would wake up.” He admitted, breaking eye contact, hearing an unfamiliar sadness lacing his voice. You swallowed, nodding.

“And how long have you been sitting here?” You asked quietly.

”The entire time.” He responded, “Took a break to shower, but the majority of the time I was here, waiting.” You could feel your heart catch at the confession, he took in a shaky breath, “I was so scared.” His eyes met yours, as you noticed a tear fall down his cheek. You hadn’t seen Bjorn like this. You were around when his mother passed and even then the state he slipped into was that of rage, not tears. Your eyebrows knitted together as you reached a hand out, placing it against his stubbly cheek, catching a stray droplet that fell from the corner of his eye, “I thought I was going to lose you.” He whispered, his hand coming up to place it atop of yours. You could feel your eyes begin to fill with tears as well, the emotions flooding you quickly, overwhelming you, realizing how much Bjorn had done, how much time he dedicated to making sure you were going to have someone be there when you woke up. He took your hand off his cheek, bringing the back of it up to his lips, giving it a light peck as he held it tightly.

“Come here.” You beckoned, finding what little strength you had in your muscles to push yourself to the right side of the bed to make room for him. He looked at you, almost as if he was asking if you were sure. You patted the free space now, watching him get up and kick off his shoes, lifting the heavy covers so he could slide in next to you. His cheeks were wet with his tears as you wiped them with your knuckle, “I’m okay Bjorn, you don’t have to worry anymore.” His rough hand held your elbow gently, as he nodded, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours, the both of you closing your eyes, your hands holding his neck as you breathed him in. You laid there enjoying the silence for a moment, until you decided to lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, tasting the blood that was caked on them from the cuts. His breath hitched in his throat as his hand rested on your waist. You pulled away quickly realizing what you just did.

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t know what I was th-.” He shook his head.

”Please don’t apologize, I’ve wanted that for so long, don’t ruin it with an apology.” Bjorn murmured, his forehead meeting yours again. You smirked.

”I don’t want you getting the wrong idea, thinking I’m doing it to thank you.” He leaned back to look at you, his eyes scanning over your face.

”Are you doing it for any other reasons I may not know about?” He questioned.

”Maybe it is the fact that we almost died in that building without giving ourselves a chance to admit there’s something between us that we never acknowledged.” You explained, your fingertips tracing his frowny face tattoo just below his ear.

”So you feel it too, hmm?” You glanced at him, “I knew you couldn't possibly resist.” He joked, leaning forward to place another kiss against your lips, “I didn't even have to wait to have a dream about it either.” He added.

[lonewolflink]

ok so the caps will PROBABLY get swept by those fuckass dirty rangers tonight

BUT if we win tonight and then have a gentleman's sweep

we'll probably end up exiting the playoffs with the same record as toronto

and that is objectively funny (sorry leafs fans)

[adragonprinceswhore]

Soft & Hard

Aemond Targaryen x Ex Girlfriend

Summary: How do you forget about Aemond Targaryen when he’s everywhere you look?

Warnings: 18+, AFAB reader, she/her pronouns, angst, emotional infidelity, descriptions of self-hatred, situationship, intoxication, smut, heavy petting, drunk sex, P in V, (some) size kink

Word Count: 4000

A/N: This has been plaguing my mind for weeks now, so I really needed to get it out of me and into the world. This can be read as a continuation of my Hockey player Aemond drabble, but can also be read as a standalone. Aemond is a hockey player in this modern AU! 🩵

You prop your feet up to rest on the sides of your bathtub, angling the shower head just right so it hits that spot that sends pleasurable shivers rippling through your body.

Your eyes are closed, and you’re desperately trying to visualise the hot guy from the TV series you’d just binged; mind racing through any arousing scenario you can come up with.

It’s not an easy task; keeping yourself occupied enough to not drift towards the very man you’ve vainly tried to erase from your memory. 

You don’t want to think about him. 

Thinking about him always leads to missing him. 

It leads to longing for him. 

No matter how badly he hurt you. No matter how much you rationalise your reasons for leaving, your stupid heart yearns to fill the hole he’s left behind. 

Pathetic.

You shut your eyes with more force, thinking of the hot TV character. Upping the pressure of the shower head, you imagine it’s him going down on you that’s causing the pleasure building inside. Your hips begin to shallowly sway back and forth, and low whimpering moans slip from your lips. 

As the pleasure builds and builds, the image in your head morphs; the hot TV guys’ hair turns silver, no matter how hard you try to stay focused. 

You’re close, so close, and just as you’re on the edge of pleasure, you hear him,

“You’re so pretty like this”

And you cum so hard you drop the showerhead in your grip, legs shaking as your hips jerk upward aggressively. 

Water sprays across the bathroom as the shower head falls, but you’re too lost in your own bliss to truly care, giving yourself a moment to just disappear into the fleeting, fierce pleasure consuming you. 

After a while, when your legs have stopped shaking and your cunt has stopped clenching around nothing, you turn the rampant shower head off with a sigh. 

The satisfaction of your orgasm is short-lived, promptly followed by the lonely reality of you chasing pleasure alone in your bathroom. You could stay in the tub and make yourself cum 10 more times and it wouldn’t change the loneliness residing inside of you. 

You could try to picture that hot guy from the show fucking you for hours, still you’d feel the same. 

Still, visions of him would cloud your mind. And the chill of loneliness would penetrate your bones, as it does right now. 

Because no one kisses your forehead afterwards, or holds you tight, or whispers sweet things into your ear. 

You're alone, and the warm water quietly splashing around you doesn’t stop the cold porcelain of your bathtub from chilling your heated flesh. 

You shiver. 

Sick of yourself; of your self-pity and hatred, you leave the tub and throw on a dressing gown, already on a search for a new distraction. 

Anything to take your mind off Aemond Targaryen. 

Forgetting Aemond was nearly impossible. 

Not only did your mind remind you of your heart’s longing for the man that broke it. The world did as well. Like when you overheard your colleagues discussing his latest game, and how skillfully he tackled his opponents, landing a blow on them so precise yet hard that they flew into the rink. Or when you got home after a long day and turned on the TV, greeted by him giving a post-match interview all sweaty and panting. 

The only way you knew him. 

Being restricted to seeing the man you’d spent countless nights together with through the TV screen has brought you to the conclusion that ultimately, your relationship hasn’t changed much. 

Sure, you don’t send him nudes anymore. Nor does he fuck you into the mattress of whichever hotel room he brings you to. 

But the distance is the same. The loneliness isn’t new; it always existed between the two of you. He never really cared to let you in. 

You were convenient. 

Pliable. 

An easy fuck. 

You should’ve realised it sooner. Like that time when Alicent Hightower, Westerosi socialite and Aemond’s mother, stopped by one of his practices. You were helping him lace his skates when she appeared, and as soon as he noticed his mum approaching, Aemond’s large hand gently but firmly pushed you away. 

Ms. Hightower’s curious gaze had asked about you, and her son huffed out, “She’s an acquaintance”

An acquaintance. 

Not even a friend. 

To you, Aemond was the first thing you thought about in the morning, and the last thing you thought about before going to sleep. 

To him, you were an acquaintance. 

Pathetic. 

That should have been the last straw. But you kept seeing him. Not even the humiliation and hurt you felt as you excused yourself and ran to the bathroom with tears in your eyes could stop you from craving him. That was the power he had over you.

The power he still has over you, even in his absence. Even if you blocked his number 6 months ago and haven’t seen him once since. 

The actual last straw was a message you’d gotten from an unknown number, asking if you’d send more of those “hot slutpics in dat black thong”. For a second you thought it was Aemond having a laugh, but the message didn’t sound like him, and he isn’t exactly known for being a guy that appreciates humour, or ‘pranks’.

Turns out, the number belonged to Aegon Targaryen, Aemond’s older brother and notorious fuckboy. Word around King’s Landing was that every girl who’d slept with him had gotten chlamydia, and still he seems to find a new conquest to throw his arms around each weekend. 

Perhaps the sleaziest guy in the Seven Kingdoms.

Turns out, it runs in the family. 

You blocked Aemond’s number that night. After swearing to never let your desire for him get the best of you again, you begged your friends to take you out and get you so shitfaced the humiliation Aemond had inflicted on you would be washed away. 

It didn’t work.

You’re still tainted by his touch. 

So you switch tactics. You look for someone else. 

About a month after you’d called things off with Aemond, you thought you’d found a good replacement. A nice, inconspicuous guy who was eager to please; eager to make you like him. You would’ve felt guilty, really, if the dark hole of lonely self-hatred in your chest didn’t outweigh your selfishness. 

And still, Aemond Targaryen was everywhere. 

You’d find him in that adoring look your new partner gave you as you sucked him off in the shower. You’d find him in bed, when you couldn’t sleep and imagined it was Aemond’s heavy arms holding you tight. You’d find him in your fantasies, seemingly incapable of coming with your new partner unless you closed your eyes and pretended the short, curly strands greeting your hand between your legs were actually long, silky and silver. 

Ultimately, your conscience caught up with you, and you broke things off with the new guy as well. He had told you that he loved you, and the sweetest of confessions felt like the sharpest of needles prickling your heart. 

Aemond never said it. 

Oh, how you wish it was him saying it. 

Sometimes, even after six months of not seeing him, you’re still surprised by how incredibly piteous he’s rendered you. 

Yearning for a man who only saw you as a plaything. Who only ever cared for you when you were conveniently there for him to do as he pleased with. Who refused to expose your relationship to his mother, and shared your nudes with his brother. 

Fucking prick. 

Today’s Friday. 

Single and lonelier than ever, you beg your friends to go out dancing with you. It’s become your new weekend ritual; go out and dance until your feet hurt and you’re so tired you collapse on your bed, mind delightfully empty. 

Now, you're back on the dancefloor, drink in hand, eyes closed as you sway to the music. 

You always drag your friends to the same place, The Three Towers, a nightclub of the slightly more exclusive kind, with proper DJs and strong drinks. 

They must’ve figured out by now that it was Aemond who introduced you to this place. You see it in the pitiful looks they give you every time you insist on coming here instead of going to any of the many other places in Oldtown. Their eyes say what you’ve known to be true for over six months;

Pathetic. 

It’s not like Aemond likes to go out anyway. He hates crowds, dislikes strangers, loathes the fake people gathering around him to tell him empty words of adoration. 

But that one time you’d wanted to go dancing, he’d brought you here. 

Maybe he brings all his “acquaintances” here. 

You tell yourself that you don’t come here for him, that it just happens to be a great place, but still, every time you catch a glimpse of something silvery in the corner of your eye, dread punches you in the gut. 

Why do you seek him out when you know actually meeting him would destroy you? What if you saw him here with another girl? Maybe one of the models his brother so often gifts his infected cock to? 

Tumultuous thoughts swirl in your mind until you notice that the flash of silver isn’t Aemond’s hair at all, and ease settles over you. Well, something akin to ease. The self-hatred is still there,

Pathetic. 

Your feet quickly carry you to the bar, eager for more of the numbness only alcohol provides. You order another G&T and almost spit it out after the first sip; it’s basically all gin.

Good.

You take three large gulps and move back to the dancefloor, searching for your friends who you’ve lost in the crowd of intertwined bodies. 

You scan your surroundings, and then it happens again. A flash of silver. Only this time, it’s him. 

You remember the first time you saw him. TV appearances and watching him on the ice doesn’t do him justice. In person, his ethereal beauty’s blinding. Just like it is now. One of the spotlights over the sofa he sits on hits his hair, causing it to glow like the beacon of a dark night at sea. 

Calling you in. 

Your feet work by themselves as they walk towards him. You panic, desperately searching for any excuse to talk to him. 

What do you say? 

Suddenly you’re right before him, drink in one hand and the other nervously touching your hair as you dumbly stare at him. He looks up from the drink in his hand, a whiskey on the rocks you’d guess, and meets your eyes. 

His gaze is cold and stoic. 

Unimpressed. 

He raises an expectant eyebrow. 

And yet you say nothing. All the witty, insightful, hard-hitting truths you’d wanted to tell him for the last six months vanish as you stand before him frozen in panic. 

Pathetic.

Pathetic. 

Pathetic!

You have nothing. Your mind’s empty, the only thing you can do is feel. Feel the self-hatred, the loneliness, the insecurity he’s inflicted upon you. 

He rolls his eyes. Aemond’s not known for his patience, “If you’re looking for that new boyfriend of yours, he’s not here”

“I don’t have a boyfriend”, you blurt out, prompted by the shiver running through you caused by the venom dropping from his words. He sounds so hateful. 

He stands abruptly, forcing you to take a faltering step back as he tower over you,

“Come”

He takes the drink in your hand and places it on a nearby table before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the rowdy club. The chill of the night air hits your scarcely clad body as he drags you towards a cab waiting outside, your ears still ringing from the loud music in the club.

He opens the door and pushes on your arm to get in. His touch is still impossibly warm; just as you remember it. 

He slams the door shut and walks around to the other side, getting in and grunting an address you’ve never heard of to the taxi driver.  

You know your friends would be furious if they knew who you left with, so you send them a quick text stating that you’ve left ‘cause you didn’t feel well. 

You place your phone back in your purse and look outside. It seems like you’re driving towards the north part of the city, a place you hardly know. 

The deafening silence in the taxi is so tense, any sane person would ask the driver to stop and get out in a heartbeat. 

Aemond, sitting next to you with his jaw clenched and fidgeting with his customised black and red lighter, sends nervous ripples of fear through your being. You know he’s contemplating something, yet you wouldn’t dare ask. 

Any sensible person would get out. 

But you can’t. 

Because he still smells the same. And it’s everywhere in the stuffy cab. And your heart hurts, a tear threatens to spill, because you’ve missed it all so much; his smell, his hair, his voice, his touch. 

Him.

The silence persists, until you're finally freed as the taxi driver stops and Aemond hands him a few copper stars. 

You get out and take a deep breath of the late summer night's air. The buzz of alcohol still clouds your judgement somewhat, yet you feel more aware of yourself than ever before. 

You look around and see Aemond approach the entrance to a sleek building in that brutalist, modern design, and you follow in tow. He still hasn’t said anything, and neither have you.

You get in a lift, go up to the top floor, and enter a dark flat with only a small table lamp lit by the entrance, obscuring your view of the place. 

Just as you make way to move further into the room, Aemond hinders you. 

He doesn’t allow you entrance to the rest of the space, cornering you against a low side table by the entrance door. He’s so tall, and so broad, you disappear into the wall as he steals all the space around you. 

“Why did you agree to come with me?” 

He’s so close you feel his breath tickle your skin. It’s too dark to truly see the expression on his face, but the shadows cast on him makes him look stern. The smell of him intensifies. You feel warm.  

This is all you’ve wanted. All you’ve feared. 

You still desire him so.

“You told me to”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you know it’s because your reply’s caught him off guard. He’d assumed you’d fight back, jab at him in some way. He tries again,

“My mate saw you at that club last week, you know”

Is he keeping tabs on you? 

“What happened to your boyfriend?” 

How does he know about that? 

You swallow, “Nothing. It just wasn’t right” 

“Hm”

Your eyes are locked together, his mismatched gaze just as alluring as you remember it. Without looking away, he brings a hand up to gently stoke the cold skin of your arm. 

The harshness of his stare falters, 

“Did you miss me?” 

“Did you miss me?” 

The retort leaves your lips before you register it forming in your head. Can’t give in to him that easily. Can’t make your suffering known to the person causing it. 

The harshness reappears. 

“Did he fuck you the way you like?” 

His tone is cold, yet heated with anger. The same hateful tinge from before. 

Your drunk mind works without you operating it, 

“He wasn’t you”

The confession slips out, and so does the pitifulness. The loneliness. The pathetic mess you’ve become. 

Aemond didn’t expect your admission either, eyes narrowing in suspicion, 

“What do you mean?”

Is this the time? 

To tell him how utterly devastated you’ve been without him? How he plagues your mind? How your entire being is tainted by him? 

No. 

“Why did you bring me here?”, you ask, foggy mind finally cooperative enough to let you change the subject.

“Because you wanted me to”, he replies, the gentle hand on your arm suddenly travelling down to caress your exposed thigh before  harshly cupping your cunt. 

A startled gasp espaces your lips. 

His touch is so nostalgic it travels from your aroused core to your heart, and squeezes it painfully.  

His hand is big enough to cover you entirely, and with the heel of his palm, he pushes harshly where he knows your swollen clit lies obscured under your panties. His long finger taps against your hole, and he huffs a quiet, condescending laugh as he feels how moist the fabric is.

When did you get this wet? 

You feel the heat of his touch radiate from his palm to your cunt, so persistent it finds its way through your underwear. He only moves his hand to stroke you over the fabric and press at your clit, but the gratification of finally being granted his touch works you towards release at a speed you’d thought impossible. 

“Still a little slut for me”  

He brings two fingers up to press right over your clit, rough circles demanding that you obey his touch and come for him. 

His breathing hard through his nose, the look in his eye is hard to decipher, 

Arousal? 

Fury? 

Fuck it feels good to be pushed against a wall by him. To be subjected to his rough treatment. Anything to feel his touch on you again. 

Your hips move upwards to meet his fingers; you’re so close to falling apart. 

“You missed me. And that fucker you were seeing couldn’t compare to me. Isn’t that right?” 

He spits out the words, teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he leans even closer. 

Your arms have been hanging limply at your side, and you have to fight the sudden urge to grab him and press him against you. To feel him closer. 

“Did he make you this wet?”

Aemond’s tongue licks the sensitive spot behind your ear and you moan loudly, fully consumed by the way his fingers push you towards release. 

You angle your face so that his mouth is right by yours. With parted lips, you look up at him pleadingly, begging him to kiss you. 

Something in his eye shifts, and a victorious smirk breaks out over his face, 

“Come”

And you do. So hard you see stars and your legs give out. The pleasure is intense, it steals everything from you; your breath, your senses, your self-discipline. 

Your hands fly to Aemond’s biceps, anchoring yourself to him as your body twitches forcefully in the pleasure rupturing you. It’s cathartic; a long awaited release only his hands can coax out. 

When you come back to reality, to the dark hallway you're trapped against Aemond’s body in, the dreaded self-hatred you’d gotten to know so well makes itself known again. 

The brutal reality of exactly how far your pathetic infatuation with Aemond has driven you crashes over you like an ice-cold wave of regret. You feel hot tears well up in the corner of your eyes as they stay casted down, refusing to look up at the man who’s greatest pleasure in life seems to be to torment you. 

Why had he brought you here? Why did he enjoy hurting you? Why had you fallen for it? 

“What did I do to make you hate me so?” 

It’s the alcohol talking. Or maybe it’s the last thing you need to hear from him before you can finally let go. The last shard of your heart crushed in his grip. 

Silence is the only answer he gives you, and without looking up, you push him to move so you can get away from him. Instead of allowing you to leave, he brings one hand to your cheek, engulfing it in warmth, and drags your face upwards to meet his eyes. 

Before you can read his expression, he ducks his head down, letting his lips graze over yours. His tongue comes out to swipe over your lower lip in a slow, gentle caress that feels more sensual than anything you’ve ever experienced, and in retaliation your greedy arms pull him closer, eagerly kissing him back. There’s a slow urgency to the way his tongue seeks out yours, bending your body backwards to taste you deeper. You relish in it. 

You want him to eat you up. To devour you completely. You’re his anyway. 

Without breaking the kiss, Aemond leads you down the dark hallway and into a dimly lit room. The only thing you register is a large bed in the middle, where he takes a seat and keeps you standing between his legs, still kissing you. 

His hands roam over your body; over your exposed arms and legs. They find the zipper at the back of your dress and pull it down, slowly undressing you until you're completely bare. 

He stands for a brief moment to rid himself of his own clothes, and then sits again, guiding you to climb onto his lap. 

You follow his every command in enchantment. You grant him every kiss he seeks, allow him every touch he craves. He can have it all. 

He guides you to sink down on him slowly. You’re still so wet, yet he’s so hard your insides are forced to mould after his stiffness. 

Once he fills each part of you, he wraps your legs around his waist, sighing in satisfaction as he presses your body so close to his the skin of your torso sticks to his. 

“I won’t last long-”, he whispers into your ear, “-a 6 month wait is excruciating”

The touch that you’ve known as harsh and demanding is now so soft. So delicate it slowly picks up the shattered pieces of your broken heart and mends them together again with each gentle caress.

Your hands cup his cheeks, gazing into his lilac and blue stare as you slowly begin to move. 

Aemond doesn’t say anything, doesn’t say that one phrase that you want him to, but the look in his eyes is mesmerising. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable. It’s intimate.

He’s giving himself to you. 

You wrap your arms around him, accepting him. You want all of him, all to yourself. You’ve wanted him for half a year. You’ve wanted him since the first time you met him. 

He meets your hips each time you sink down, and the otherwise carnal pursuit for pleasure feels dreamlike as Aemond’s arms envelop you and you disappear into him. 

You want to say it, but not yet. You don’t dare. Would he retreat again? You know it to be true, but it’s too early. Maybe someday. 

Instead, it’s Aemond who speaks over the moans and sighs of pleasure,

“Don’t leave me again” 

You don’t know how long you fuck, but each orgasm feels more consuming, more powerful, than the last. Ultimately, you collapse together on the bed, legs and arms still intertwined. The familiarity of Aemond’s heavy arms over your waist soothes you, yet the soft sheets of the bed provide a stark contrast to the stiff, clinical sheets of the hotel rooms he’d always brought you to before. 

There’s nothing left between you, no more layers to shed, so you ask him about everything that had led up to your separation. About how he dismissed you in front of his mother, and about the text from his brother. The latter seems to genuinely surprise him, 

“I’ve never shared your pictures with anyone, especially not him” 

Guess Aegon Targaryen isn’t above snooping through his brother’s stuff. 

You talk all night, and Aemond tells you about his strained relationship with his family, “My family has an ability to ruin things for me”, he confesses, “I didn’t want that to happen with you”

As the rays of sunrise begin to seep through the window, you admit to the loneliness that’s been eating away at you since parting from Aemond. 

He cups your cheek again, thumb stroking your cheekbone,

“I fucked up. I’ve missed you more than I thought possible”

Your loneliness hadn’t been solitary. He’d felt it too. You’d shared it. 

You lay your head on his chest, listening to the slow drum of his heart. Before it lulls you to sleep, you remember the last thing you’d like to ask him,

“Aemond, where are we?”

“My place”

A/N: I never know if I should write it as come or cum? After some studious research (not), I decided that come is the original and therefore works better! Thank you for reading, I write these drabble for fun to improve my writing, so don't be too harsh please 🫶🩵

[torialefay]

can't get this out of my mind, so here we go 🔞

✨ who in skz has the best pullout game, rated from best to worst:

best

changbin: bin is quite literally the most respectful boy ever. even if he's super into it, he makes sure to never go too far. he doesn't want to risk doing anything that would put you in a hard position. when he feels it coming on, he gets one more pump inside you and then he's out.

jeongin: innie has really been pushing that testosterone lately, but he's not stupid... and he is a little scared. he knows his limits & he's lowkey (highkey) terrified he'll accidentally get you pregnant without even ejaculating, so yeah, he out.

chan: channie WANTS to cum inside you, don't get me wrong. but he still always asks you in the moment... "where do you want it?" he asks hurriedly, pounding into you harshly and knowing he's about to go over the edge... honestly, his pullout game is kind of a close call most of the time, but he always manages to make it out right before cumming all over your stomach <3

minho: like chan, he REALLY wants to cum inside. he likes that power trip. but at the same time, i feel like he does also have a bigger sense of "responsibility" and probably feels like he will be fucked if there's a mini hellion version of him running around. he's pulling out... mostly bc he wants to see it all over the harsh red marks he left on your ass but still.

seungmin: seungmin just kinda doesn't give a fuck tbh, so i can't really rate him and have to put him in the middle. you know to expect that whatever he's in the mood for is probably what's gonna happen (unless you're 100% unprotected ofc). i promise you if you are either on birth control or doing aney, he will not give two shits where he busts. whatever happens happens 🤷🏻‍♀️ BUT when he needs to cum outside of you, he's good to get it out.

felix: lixie tends to just get carried away and lost in his own lil head. once he starts feeling good, he gets so into it that it doesn't even register til the last second that he needs to get out of you. he's gonna be there moaning, about to get that nut and you've gotta hit him a little to snap him out of it. once his mind catches up, he gasps a little before ripping that shit out.

han: han's pullout game is shit. period. once that rush hits him, he cums sooo quick. like he only has a couple of seconds before he's busting. even if he's trying to pull out, he gets like half way there and then he's all like "oh fu-u-uck" bc he can't stop it <3 then he's gotta apologize. every single time.

hyunjin: pullout game is basically nonexistent, but he chooses it to be that way honestly. he gets so lost in the moment that absolutely nothing can stop him from cumming inside you. he will quite literally wrap your legs around him and sink down even deeper inside of you every time bc aint no way in helllll he's pulling out at the most delicious part. he needs it to be an all-consuming experience

worst

[omgeto]

☆ GHOSTING — GETO SUGURU X READER

summary: after being made aware of your long term ex boyfriends plans to 'fix' the world, you knew that you had to try and stop him. but seeing him for the first time in a decade; all the love, the hate, the heartbreak comes right back to you both and you realise you care about him a lot more than you thought.

wc: 4.7k (of pure goodness....)

cw: afab!reader, mdni, angst to fluff (kinda) cult leader ex boyfriend!geto, kinda sorta canon (its the day that geto yk...) he eats you out like its his last meal, half hate fucking, full making love, and a whole lot of geto being culty and cunty. this one has a plot people!!

authors note: guys yk I love a good exes to lovers fic so the argument in this one hits different and the whole idea of you and suguru breaking up just before he runs off to run his cult really gets to me, so I hope you enjoy this one.

geto suguru hasn’t seen you in years, in almost a decade, and is still reeling harshly from how you left him when he needed you. but somehow he finds himself rushing to meet you when he gets the four word text from your number—which is still saved in his phone under ‘my girl’— saying, ‘we need to talk.’

he knows exactly what you want to speak about, he could easily put together why today of all days you’d want to see —after vanishing him for just over a decade. he figured gojo probably gave word to you, as from when you’ve been young and growing up together, you’ve all known that if gojo couldn’t get through to him, you could.

he opens the door to your apartment, knowing that you wouldn’t have locked it—you always had a habit of leaving it open for him. and there you are, standing in the dimly lit room, waiting for his arrival. the years have etched subtle changes onto your face and in your demeanour, but the essence of who you are remains unchanged. time may have separated you, but in this moment, it feels as though it has never passed.

“you can't do this,” is the first thing you say, your voice steady despite the unexpected surge of emotions upon seeing him again. you didn't think seeing him after all this time would affect you, but it did. his hair is longer, his frame more imposing, but that unmistakable smirk remains, a haunting reminder of the man you once knew.

“wow right to the chase,” he chuckles bitterly, his presence taking up the room as he enters the room further, “i forgot you never really had a thing for beating around the bush.”

you meet his bitter chuckle with a steady gaze, your resolve unwavering. the years of separation have done nothing to diminish the intensity of your connection, the push and pull between you two.

"it's not the time for games, suguru," you reply, your tone serious. "you know why i called you here."

he sighs, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. the weight of his plans, the burden he carries, is evident in the lines etched on his face. "i figured you'd call sooner or later."

the room seems to shrink as the gravity of the situation hangs between you. the man you once knew, the one who could make your heart race with a smile, now stands before you, shrouded in darkness.

"i won't let you go through with this," you say firmly, your eyes never leaving his. "there's another way, suguru. there has to be."

for a moment, his façade cracks, and you catch a glimpse of the person he used to be, the one who believed in a better world. but then the hardness returns to his eyes, and he steps closer, his presence overwhelming.

"you always were too idealistic," he mutters, almost to himself. "but i can't turn back now. the world needs this change."

"what happened to you?" you snap out, your words laced with a bitter edge that hangs heavily in the air. it's a question that carries the weight of your years of frustration, anger, and confusion. but you knew what happened to him; everyone knew.

his reaction is immediate, and the room seems to tremble with his anger. his gaze narrows, and the atmosphere becomes charged with tension. "you don't get to ask that," he spits out, his voice dripping with bitterness. "you left, remember? you abandoned me when i needed you the most."

“it wasn’t like that,” you argue, leaning forward, your body tense. “by the time i left you were already gone, being physically present in a relationship doesn’t mean anything if your mind is fucking checked out all the time. at that point i was just dating a shell of you.” 

“is that how you justify it?" he retorts, his anger unabated. "you think leaving was the solution?”

you clench your fists, your own anger rising to meet his. "i did what i had to do to protect myself, suguru. you were spiralling, consumed by your own darkness. I couldn't save you"

his eyes blaze with a mixture of fury and hurt. "you think i needed saving?

“you still need saving,” you scoff gesturing to him standing right in front of you, “just because you couldn’t save—”

“don’t even go there,” he interrupts, his hand raising to stop you. he knew you were talking about riko, “i’ve made peace with that.”

“oh have you?” you accuse, “since it seems to me, you’ve been on a killing spree, ever since.”

“other people died y’know,” he hisses out, “remember haibara? he was your fucking friend, but you weren’t even there.”

“this isn’t about me,” you say disregarding his comment, regret seeping through you, “you think i haven’t kept tabs on you since i’ve been away. who have you become?”

he glares at you, his anger evident. "i've become what the world needs," he snaps, his voice heavy. "someone willing to do what it takes to change things."

"and is killing a village full of people the way to do that?" you challenge, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. "killing your..." You pause, overwhelmed by the thoughts and images of what he's done. "was killing your parents worth it?"

his expression hardens, and for a moment, you see a glimmer of regret in his eyes, but it's quickly masked by his resolve. "i had to make sacrifices," he says coldly. "it's a small price to pay for a greater cause."

“you can’t truly think that,” you say, taking a step closer to him, your fists still clenched at your sides. “how did it feel killing them then? to take away the lives of your own parents who were innocent?” you probe, you knew that there was some part of him that must feel bad.”

“you’re about… ten years too late to be trying to have this conversation with me,” he shrugs, the turmoil that geto felt when he first set out on his mission has ceased. the guilt he felt for killing his parents, even the grief he had for something that he caused, wasn’t a factor for him anymore.

your frustration boils over as you press him further. "so, you've become heartless, then?" you challenge. the room seems to tighten around you as you await his response. "a cold-blooded killer who's convinced himself that the ends justify the means?"

geto's gaze narrows, his patience dwindling. "it's not about being heartless. it's about doing what's necessary to achieve our goals."

"your goals," you emphasise, "not mine. and not the goals of the innocent people you've hurt along the way."

he sighs, exasperation creeping into his voice. "you always had a way of making everything so complicated, questioning every choice. you left because you couldn't handle the real world."

you shake your head, unwilling to accept his justifications. "no, i left because i couldn't stand by and watch you become a monster."

“so i’m just a monster, yeah?” he retorts, stepping towards you, his anger evident across his face, you could see your words triggered him, and as he gets closer you could feel your facade faltering. 

your heart races as he approaches, and you raise a hand instinctively, palm out, to signal him to stop. "don't come any closer," you warn, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. there was no rational reason to be scared of him, you’ve known him for years, and despite everything that he’s done —what he’s become— there was still a part of you that believed that he wouldn’t hurt you.

but geto ignores your plea, his determination unwavering. he grabs your hand firmly, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the intensity of the moment. his dark eyes bore into yours, and he speaks in a low, taunting tone, "why? are you scared that with me being this close, you're going to realise that you loved a monster? that you're still in love with him?"

you grit your teeth, refusing to let him get under your skin. "suguru, you don't get to manipulate me with your twisted version of love," you retort, your voice laced with defiance. "i won't let you use my feelings against me.

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you're torn between the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. the memories of the love you once shared, the pain of his transformation into something unrecognisable, and the lingering attraction between you all crash together in this charged moment.

you try to pull your hand away, to regain control of the situation, but geto's grip tightens, preventing your escape. his face inches closer to yours, and despite your better judgement, your breath hitches. “manipulation, huh?” geto muses, his mouth so close to yours that you feel his breath faintly brush across your lips. you look up at him through your lowered eyelashes, and in that fleeting pause, so small that it’s almost imperceptible, you find yourself considering the gravity of your actions, if only for a moment.

the feeling of doubt is short lived, as you press your lips against geto’s, his mouth immediately moulding into yours. the kiss is searing, as you push your bodies against each other, he releases your hand from his grip, his hands move to cradle your head, holding it in place as he deepens the kiss, bruising your lips with his.

everything about geto is familiar, the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth, the way he consumes you. his tongue explores yours, wrestling for control as your arms scratch at him trying to tug off his robe. you wanted him to feel you, all of you—your touch, your lips, your hurt, your anger, the love that you still have that you thought was small. but after seeing him, kissing him, you realise is still an overwhelmingly large part of you.

you pull apart to catch your breath, staring hard at each other, but there’s barely a moment wasted before your back on eachother. kissing each other feverishly, as you rip off each other's clothes, he pushes you hard, your back slamming against the nearest piece of furniture as his mouth latches onto your neck. his kisses cascade down your body, stopping at your breasts as he unhooks your bra, tossing it aside.

“i missed these,” he murmurs, as his lips descend onto your tits, his face nuzzling at your chest as he sucks and pulls at your nipples with his teeth. “and i missed this,” he continues to mumble, his hands cupping your clothed pussy, his finger lightly caressing your slit. 

you arch forward into his touch, wanting to feel him more and chuckles saying, “even after all these years, you still respond to my touch just the same.” his fingers plunge into your panties, brushing against your clit and he smirks as your lips part a stifled moan escaping your lips—proving his point.

“s-shut up,” you hiss out, as you slowly start to gyrate against his fingers. although it was obvious from the way you were already soaking your underwear, you didn’t want to admit how good he is actually making you feel—you just couldn’t give him the satisfaction. geto raises his eyebrows at you in amusement, as he watches you bite your lip trying to contain your moans, as his fingers inch into your inviting pussy.

geto’s body moves down yours as he removes his lips from your tits, continues to press kisses down your stomach, as he drops down to his knees —his eyes level with your cunt. he presses a kiss to your covered pussy, before sliding off your panties. his mouth is just about to latch onto you but he pauses looking up at you, his gaze unwavering, “you want this right?” you nod slowly, your anticipation brewing as your eyes lock onto his, “use your words.”

you release an exasperated huff, but he remains steadfast, his raised eyebrow a silent declaration that he won't act until you tell him what he wants to hear. the room seems to pulse with tension, the growing desire between you mounting with each heartbeat.

your hands slide it’s way into his hair, pushing your fingers through his scalp, as you grin, you voice is low and sultry as you say, “i want it.” his mouth envelopes your pussy and you push his head into you deeper, forcing your nose into your arousal. he inhales you, taking in your scent as he presses his face in your cunt. 

“such a pretty pussy,” he mutters lowly, you could feel the vibrations spread through your pussy. his tongue strokes down your slit, before pushing into you, he twists and slurps at you trying to suck out all of your juices. 

geto nibbles at your clit, tugging at it with his teeth before bringing his fingers back to cunt. shoving two fingers in roughly. you pull his hair harshly, the feeling of his mouth sucking on your clit leaving your mind blank. “ah f-fuck,” you cry out, as geto’s strokes grow more intense.

“c’mon let me hear you more,” geto prompts, pulling away slightly from your pussy, his lips plump and coated from your wetness. he grabs one of your legs and hikes it over his shoulder, the angle allowing him to force his fingers into you further, curling them up in your pussy as he goes back to shoving his face in your sobbing cunt.

you grind your pussy in his face, working with him in getting you off. both of your movements were frantic, geto is eating your pussy with such eagerness, hungrily trying to drink all of your cum. “i’m close s-sugu i’m—” you choke out, feeling yourself slipping down the wall you pressed against, but geto holds you upright, his large hand keeping your thigh hooked over his shoulder and roughly pushing you up against the wall.

geto grins against your cunt, your moans and cries is a sound he didn’t realise how much he missed until he heard them now. you laboured breathing, stammered sentences told him that you were reading cum, but he just had to push you further. so he adds one more finger, sending it straight to your spot, twisting and pushing it in your pussy so hard that tears brim your eyes. he was so relentless, you always loved that about him, how he knows your body in and out, he knew exactly where to touch, and just how far he should push to have you becoming a mess for him.

you couldn’t take him anymore, so you cum, hard. your pussy releasing ropes and ropes of cum, all over geto’s fingers and his face, and he laps at it, munching all your cum with excitement. “i know you can give me more than that,” he muses, pressing his thumb down on your clit, rubbing at it aggressively as you cum. your eyes roll back, as he repeatedly flicks at your cum, and before you know it, you're squirting all over his face.

geto’s eyes widen, and he doesn’t stop playing with your pussy, until you bow your head in submission, worn out from all the cum you’ve released over him. your hands slide out of his hair, as you try and catch your breath and geto peppers your cunt and your thighs with kisses finally letting your thigh come off his shoulders. “damn your pussy’s still as sweet as ever.”

“stop with the talking,” you mumble, as you pull him up to his feet, your lips forcing their way back onto him. your hands frantically explore each other's bodies as you drag him to your bedroom, pushing him on your bed. “i can’t fucking stand you,” you mutter to yourself, your denial evident, as you straddle him, pulling his dick out of his boxers.

you pause briefly at the sight, his thick, long dick staring at you. you hear geto chuckle at your reaction, your eyes meet his with a challenging look exchanged between you, he raises his eyebrow at you, a silent dare on whether you’ll actually be able to get the control that you’re aiming to have. 

you hover over his dick, your pussy still dripping, geto bites his lip in anticipation as you tease him, slowly edging yourself down onto him. your pussy greedily, takes in his dick as you force yourself down on him as immediately fills you, stretching out your cunt with one push. you start to ride him, hard and fast, rocking your body forward as you bounce up and down on him, your hand pressing down on his stomach to keep you steady.

geto sits up, stifling a moan as he feels your cunt clench around his dick with everyone of your movements. he tries to thrust up into you, but he just can’t match the relentless rhythm you had, “f-fuck,” he exhales, a moan escaping his mouth, and you smirk —you have him just where you wanted him.

“you alright there suguru?” you mock, the grin spread across your face unmissable as you grind yourself down against him, tightening your pussy around his pole as you slid up and down. the bite on his lip hardens as he pulls it further between his teeth to suppress another moan.

but geto doesn’t submit for long, his hand slaps you across your tits and his fingers pinch your nipples, twisting and tugging them, causing you to arch your back as you wail. “d’you r-really think you run shit here?” he groans, flicking at your nipples with every word, “you’ll never be in control, not with me,” he taunts.

“oh really?” you retort, as you still continue to move your ass, meeting his hips. you can feel him start to pick up his pace, trying to match yours, his hips slightly thrusting upwards, his dick pushing into you deeper.

“yeah,” he says confidently through gritted teeth, one of his hands pulling away from your nipples and onto your ass, harshly grabbing one of your cheeks to steady himself as he drills into you further, “because you’re still my girl.” 

you still at his words, you knew he didn’t mean it but you couldn’t help but react to the name that he always used to refer to you as. geto could see your eyes become vacant, as you think back to the memories when you were truly his girl. you used to revel in that —the feeling of being his. he takes advantage of your pause, your rhythm halted as he takes over, now setting the pace as he charges his dick into you, stuffing you further. 

“suguru f-fuck you’re so—” you sob out, as he breaks down your wall, his strokes hitting your spot perfectly. your body buckles, crumbling at the force that geto was using as he repeatedly thrusts into you, his hand pushing you in further so his dick can get an even better angle in you.

“i’m so what?” he retorts, knowing you wouldn’t be able to string an answer together from the way he is fucking you dumb. geto couldn’t deny that he is getting some joy out seeing you all drunk on his dick, reduced to nothing but moans and incoherent sentences, he liked being the one to break you down. “am i still a monster, someone you can’t stand being around?”

you sloppily nod your head, trying to keep some resolve, but your efforts are pointless since all the insults and accusations you were spouting earlier are now futile, you lost your care in getting him to do the right thing, all you want now is for him to stay like this — inside of you. 

“s-shit i can’t take it a-anymore im gonna cu—” you force out, clenching yourself around little his dick hard as you feel your orgasm building up. but geto’s movements stop for a second as he pulls his dick out of you, flipping you over, your back landing hard on your bed. he leans over you, his focus fixed on you, but at this point, his eyes don’t hold the same heartache, and hurt that they did when he first stepped into your house. the geto that is looking at you now, is the one who’d always look at you everyday, ten years ago —with love and longing.

he strokes his dick down your aching pussy, teasing you with it, but just before he puts it in, his hand caresses your face cupping your chin as he says, “when i said you were still my girl, i meant it y’know?” and your lips part in surprise at his admission. “although it hurt me, when you left me, you just never stopped being my girl.”

“suguru i-i don’t know what to say,” you stammer, and you didn’t realise until he swipes under your eye, that you were crying. there was so much more to your relationship with geto than just some highschool romance, you loved another, and no one could tell you otherwise. 

“tell me that you are,” he prompts, now pressing kisses to your tear stained face, his lips moving down to yours, “tell me that you are still my girl,” he finishes in between kisses. his hopeful eyes still remain on yours, and you could feel him slowly inching his dick into you.

you wrap your legs around his back, your arms hooking around his neck as you pull his head next to yours, your mouth near his ear as you whisper, “i am still yours.” he pushes his dick back into you, his strokes deep and slow. it was different from before, there was no competition or hate between you as you fucked, you didn’t have a point to prove other than the fact that you still loved each other. 

geto’s moans are loud, he has nothing to hold back as he growls lowly in your ear. the way he holds you, and takes his time kisses you and fucking you as if he was accounting for this potentially being his last ever time doing so. “i’ll never get enough of this.”

“then don’t go,” you whine, and your words hold a deeper meaning that you both knew but won’t acknowledge knowing it is pointless to discuss any further. you pull him into you deeper, your thighs clenching around him as your hold tightens. 

the feeling of you pulling him in, has him clenching his eyes as your pussy takes him in, his mouth takes yours in a powerful kiss, before he mumbles “you gonna let me cum in you, leave you with every last bit of me.” you don’t even respond, just deepening the kiss, your head shaking in agreement.

you both cum together, geto spraying your walls as he sinks his face into the crook of your neck, sinking his teeth into your exposed flesh as he continues to shoot ropes of cum inside of you. you claw at his back as you feel all of him enter you, your cum mixing with his as you cry out in full pleasure.

his forehead rests against yours, as the last bits of his cum enter you and neither of you say anything, all that can be heard is just heavy breaths coming from the both of you. you didn’t know what was to happen now, there was still so much left unsaid, unresolved and things have changed now that geto is literally stuffed inside of you.

geto is about to pull out of you finally, but you stop him muttering a faint, “stay,” and he does. he knows he had somewhere to be, things to do that are bigger than the both of you, but he just couldn’t leave when you ask him to stay. he manoeuvres your body so that you now lay atop him, comfortably cockwarming him as he thumb brushes gentle strokes down your arm.

“y’know i’ve got these two girls, who i think would love you,” he muses.

“what? did you manage to become a father whilst i was away?” you tease.

“something like that, yeah,” he mumbles, a small smile forming on his face as thoughts of nanako and mimiko flash through his mind — they’re a bittersweet reminder of the new life he’s built without you, one that you wouldn’t be able to fit in. it wasn’t that long ago that you’d have thoughts about geto fathering your own kids, dreams of somewhat of a domestic life that you’d now never get to have with him.

“well maybe i can meet them,” you say non-committedly.

“yeah maybe…” his voice falters, as you both know that it would never happen.

“do you enjoy it then?” you ask, “this ‘new’ life of yours.” you could tell just by the brief mention of nanako and mimiko and the way he carries himself that he does enjoy his life, but you were hoping that he’d still answer no.

geto hesitates for a moment, his gaze drifting to the ceiling as he contemplates your question, “i…” he begins, his gaze returning to yours, “i won’t lie. it’s different, and there’s moments i find true solace in it, this has been my life for a long time now, so it’s just something i’ve really gotten used to.”

“and you’re happy to go back to it, after this?” your question is loaded, and you feel dumb for even asking but when you did call him over to get him to not go through with his plans, of course your motivations have slightly changed, but your goal is still the same. 

 “i don’t think you should ask me to make a choice, knowing that im not going to choose you,” he grits out, he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but 

“you’re not gonna win you know, satoru wouldn’t let it happen,” you couldn’t help yourself, the rejection he just gave you stung, and you wanted him to feel what you felt.

but geto doesn’t bite, he knows you’re hurting—that he’s the cause of it, so he lets you hurt, his hold tightening comfortably as you sulk in his arms. geto places a kiss on your temple, ignoring your comment as he concludes, “let’s just not, okay?”

geto stays with you until your breathing settles into a steady rhythm, and you don’t notice him slipping out of you. he cleans you up and tucks you into your bedsheets, giving you one final stare as if he’s trying to keep a mental image of how you look when he’s last seen you. his lips meet yours in a final, chaste kiss and he mutters a promise that he didn’t think you’d hear, but you do, stirring awake as his lips leave yours, “i’ll see you again… eventually.”

you wake up to an empty room, the warmth of geto's presence replaced by a stark emptiness. the realisation hits you like a wave of cold water – he's gone, leaving nothing behind but soiled sheets and a hollow ache in your chest. there's no note, no message, no trace of his ever being there, except for the lingering scent of him that clings to the air. you know that someone will eventually inform you of the outcome of the night, but deep down, you already suspect that his last promise to you will end up being broken.

AN: first like proper proper real juicy fic that ive written in a long time imo and its just like this took me so long since im soooo sensitive about my geto fics and im just like overly critical about my angsty and fluff and plot fics and my smut and JUST EVERYTHING but I managed to get it all done and I think some parts of this really hit hard. the ending is ofc bittersweet since if we go by canon, he goes and yuta beats his fuckinggg ass and he dies wtf but... the true ending is really up to your imagination. (not really) like dont even think about the ending just focus on the fact that they NEVER TELL EACHOTHER THAT THEY LOVE EACH OTHER BECAUSE UR SO IN LOVE THAT YOU ADMITTING THAT UR STILL 'HIS GIRL' IS ALL THE CONFIRMATION HE NEEDS. my finished an are sooo long why because I FUCKING CAN SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY, PLEASE LMK UR THOUGHTS AND SLAY ALL DAY also thank you @kazushawty and @biscuitsngravie for reading and supporting me 🥹🥹

[hoshifighting]

seungkwan sporty college fling?? plss 🤭🫦

a/n: first of all— IUSHDIASUHIUNFIABDIASUDIUBFIUHE the fach that he's exactly my type makes me weak on the kneeeeees!! second: WITH THE PICS ALREADY? LOVE YOU! WARNINGS: smut, fluff, med student!reader who's interning in the university's infirmary, handjob, oral (m. receiving)

sporty college fling!seungkwan who's, like, everywhere on campus. if there’s a sport to play, you bet your ass he’s signed up. volleyball, tennis, soccer, basketball, swimming, god, even frisbee if it means he gets to be out there showing off. and, look, it’s not even about the attention—though he loves that, too. he just loves the energy, the cheers from the sidelines, the way he can walk off the field dripping sweat, grinning like he just won the damn lottery.

so when he catches wind that you’re interning in the college infirmary? oh, he’s already scheming. you had no idea he knew you were there, but seungkwan’s been keeping tabs on you ever since that one history class last semester, where he’d sit behind you just to crack dumb jokes and steal your notes when you weren’t looking. he’s been hovering on the edge of your radar ever since, some mix of a friend and a tease that’s always around, always a little too close, always making you laugh even when you’re trying to focus.

so of course, it’s not a coincidence that today he’s on the field, pulling a stunt in the middle of a perfectly normal soccer game. there’s a loud yelp, and before you know it, seungkwan’s got his ass on the ground, clutching his ankle like he’s been hit by a truck. dramatic doesn’t even cover it. a friend tries to help him up, but he waves them off like he’s gotta handle this himself.

“nah, nah, i need a professional,” he says, wincing like he’s in some world-class pain, all while side-eyeing the infirmary building. eventually, the whole team’s staring at him, and the coach—who’s definitely onto him, by the way—just sighs and gestures toward the infirmary.

“alright, go get checked out,” he grumbles, “and don’t make it a habit, boo.”

so in he limps, or, well, mostly fakes limping. you’re organizing the medicine cabinet when you hear him stumble in, and the second you turn around and see him putting on that pitiful, injured expression, you know something’s up.

“oh, my god,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “what happened this time, seungkwan?”

he sighs, laying it on thick. “soccer injury,” he says, wincing as he hobbles over to sit on the infirmary bed. “took a hard hit. they said only the best in here can take care of me.”

you roll your eyes, grabbing the ice pack and tossing it to him. “you know i can see through this bullshit, right?”

he smirks, barely able to keep up the act as he catches the ice pack and shrugs. “hey, i thought i’d at least get a little sympathy. i could be bleeding out, you know?”

“from your ankle? really?” you quip back, unable to stop the grin forming on your face. he shrugs and presses the ice pack to his ankle, looking around like he’s already scouting out what else he can mess with in here. it’s like he doesn’t even have to try—just exists, and it’s annoying but also kind of cute how he always manages to get away with it.

sporty college fling!seungkwan in those thin-ass shorts that they cling in all the right places, showing off his thick thighs, flexing calves, and the outline that has you looking anywhere but his lap whenever he walks into the infirmary. he’s got that sporty glow, a little sweat-slick, hair sticking to his forehead, flushed cheeks from running around, and that cocky smirk that’s always somewhere between friendly and downright dangerous.

so when you’re shrugging off your white coat, your tank top sticking a bit because the damn AC is broken, you catch him watching. his eyes go half-lidded, looking you up and down like you’re not a damn intern who’s just here to patch him up. he can’t even help it, a tiny little gulp as you reach back, trying to hold his knee steady while you clean up the latest scrape. and you lean over him—just a little closer to get a good angle—but the look on his face is downright sinful. he’s flushed deeper than ever, lips parted, eyes blown out like he’s somewhere far away from just a check-up.

and then you see it. oh, he’s really trying to keep it together, but that bulge is so obvious, so tight against the fabric of his shorts, it’s almost painful just looking at it. he’s shifting in place, his thighs pressing together, his hands gripping the edge of the bed, trying so damn hard to play it cool. trying being the keyword. you glance up, arching an eyebrow, giving him a once-over that has his face going from flushed to wrecked.

“you, uh… need help with anything else?” you murmur, voice dropping a bit, glancing between his lap and his face like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

he damn near chokes on his own breath, a helpless moan slipping out before he can stop it, his hips shifting forward as if he’s waiting for permission. and he spreads his legs wider, scooting to the edge of the bed, that smug smile barely peeking through as he bites his lip, knowing exactly what he’s about to ask for without saying a single word.

when you step forward and slip your hand between his legs, fingers skimming over the fabric, he lets out a broken sigh, tipping his head back with this blissed-out look that makes your heart pound.

sporty college fling!seungkwan whos losing his cool right in front of you, his little fantasy about to come true as you start to pull down those shorts, that look of relief as your hand wraps around him.

he’s biting his lip so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t draw blood, trying to muffle the whimpers spilling out as you give him a few slow strokes, teasing just enough to make him squirm.

“fuck,” he hisses, pressing his palm tighter against his mouth, eyes wide as he glances toward the door like he’s expecting someone to walk in. you can’t help but chuckle softly; the thought of getting caught makes this whole thing even hotter. the university walls are so thin you can practically hear the whispers in the hallway, and seungkwan's face is a so desperate.

“c’mon, be quiet,” you tease, your voice low as you lean in a bit closer, brushing your thumb over the slick tip of his cock. it’s dripping now, and you can feel the pre-cum pooling in your hand, making it so easy to slide your fingers along his length. he whimpers again, muffling the sound with his hand, and it’s the kind of sweet, desperate noise that makes you want to do this forever.

“i can’t help it,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice down but failing miserably, and you can’t tell if he’s more embarrassed by how loud he is or by the way he’s getting even harder under your touch. you pick up the pace a bit, letting your fingers work him as his breath hitches, eyes rolling back just a little.

he clenches his eyes shut, the way he arches his back, trying to chase the pleasure.. his grip on his mouth tightens, and you can see the strain in his muscles, how he’s fighting against the urge to let it all out.

his gaze drops, catching on your fingers wrapped around him, nails perfectly manicured and glinting as they move, slow at first and then faster, like you’re testing just how much he can take. his eyes flick up, and the sight of your chest, bouncing with each stroke, almost sends him over the edge. it’s the kind of view he could lose himself in—is losing himself in—and he can’t look away, no matter how much he wants to keep his cool.

the slick, wet sound fills the small space, louder than his shaky breaths, louder than the little whimpers he’s trying so hard to hold back. his hips buck up, chasing the friction, and you can see him practically falling apart in your hand, his lip pulled between his teeth as he fights to stay quiet. it’s no use, though; his control is slipping, and he knows it.

“fuck—” he chokes out, voice breaking as his hand clamps over his mouth again, but his eyes stay glued to you, watching every single move you make. he swallows, pupils blown wide, his gaze flicking between your hand and your face. he looks like he’s about to burst any second.

the second your lips wrap around just the tip of his cock, seungkwan’s hands fly to his mouth, but it’s useless. the control he’d tried so hard to keep shatters instantly. a loud, ragged moan escapes, so reckless it could probably be heard down the hall, but he doesn’t care anymore.

“oh, fuck—no, wait, wait,” he gasp-whines, hands gripping the edge of the infirmary bed. his hips buck, but he’s melting under your touch, eyes rolling back as you swirl your tongue just around the head. its like his body’s got a mind of its own now, the pleasure overtaking everything else, every little shudder amplified. the quiet whimpers turn to full-on, desperate moans—he’s way past caring if anyone outside hears.

and then—before he can even manage a warning so you could take your mouth off him—his whole body tightens, and he’s coming, spilling over your tongue, a hot, sudden burst that has him gasping. his hand fly up, fingers digging into his own hair, breathless as he watches

he tries to collect himself. his legs feel weak, like he’s just finished sprinting through campus, but it’s way better than any game high. his legs are trembling, knees wobbling as he hops off the bed, trying to look at least half put-together while he straightens his shorts. but one look at your smirk, and he’s got that shy, red-faced grin back, a little embarrassed.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who keeps sneaking into the infirmary for a “checkup” every chance he gets, especially after practice, because, according to him, “gotta make sure i’m in top shape, right?”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who starts showing up with snacks for you after practice—sweaty, still in his shorts and jersey, claiming they’re for you so “you don’t have to eat that vending machine crap all day.”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who eventually works up the courage to pull you into a storage room between rounds, pushing you against a shelf with that smirk of his, whispering, “you didn’t think i forgot about how good you looked last time, did you?”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who practically has your schedule memorized by now, showing up at the infirmary right when you’re alone, leaning against the doorframe as he says, “miss me yet?” like he’s not been haunting your thoughts all damn day.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who starts leaving you little notes in your bag with ridiculous messages, like “come to my game, i need my lucky charm,” with a winking face drawn on it. and when you finally show up, he plays like his life depends on it, catching your eye in the crowd every chance he gets, shooting you that smirk as he sprints down the field.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gets bolder every time you’re alone, wrapping his arm around your waist in the empty hallway, backing you against the wall, grinning when you shoot him a look. “don’t act so innocent,” he murmurs, tilting his head down to kiss you until you’re breathless, leaving you flushed and slightly disheveled before slipping away like nothing happened.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gives you his hoodie on chilly nights after practice, watching with a satisfied grin as you pull it over your head. he’d even say, “looks better on you, anyway,” then stroll off, pretending not to be thrilled seeing you in his clothes.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who one day catches you in the library and somehow convinces you to sneak into one of the back study rooms, grinning as he shuts the door and pulls you close, whispering, “been dying to get you alone, you know that?” before pressing his lips to yours, hands sliding up your back as if he’s got nowhere else he’d rather be.

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who gives you a hard time for staying late at the infirmary, texting you, “don’t make me come drag you out myself,” and then showing up anyway. he lingers, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking at you with a smug smile and saying, “told you i’d come get you.”

sporty college fling!seungkwan, who finally asks you to stay over after a game, all soft and flushed from the adrenaline, looking at you with those bright, honest eyes. he murmurs, “you know, i don’t really want this to just be a fling,” his hand slipping into yours.

[awrkive]

PLEASE LET CNBL COUPLE HAVE THEIR SEXTAPE 🤤 i think oc would be down to that idea but i get why jungkook is taking things slow too but my man is a simp fr he would put it in a loop because he’s obsessed with his girlfriend

i got u anon. ive got an ask about it sometime ago abt what miss cnbl!oc feels about digital s*x or film s*x. thought of an idea. this is 2 years after wncl, which is sorta kinda like the sequel of cnbl lols. anyways this is kinda self indulgent and honestly just an excuse to write smut 😭

summary: jungkook can't bear being away from you, and so you give him a solution

w/c: 2k lol

warning/s: consensual filming, unprotected s*x, cre*mpies

Jungkook can get pretty intense during reunions. In fact, intense is an understatement. He absolutely goes fervent, and you can’t blame him when you missed him just as bad too. 

“Ngh– fuck, I miss you so much, baby. I miss you every fucking day,” he groans into your ear, pumping his cock in and out of you at that pace that’s just so right. Not too fast. Not too slow. Just enough to make you keen; to make you grip the sheets behind you so tight. Just enough to not make it hurt when you've already come two times from his mouth and tongue, and another two times from his dick. Consequently, he's already two creampies inside your pussy and it's not even been a full hour.

And just when you thought that he’d be satisfied by the last time, he’s now determined on coaxing a fifth release from you. 

Frankly, you don’t know if you can do it. Sure, there was one time last year when he made you cum seven times in a row – and Jungkook still talks about it like a kid high on sugar, mentions it every now and then, keeps on wanting to do it again sometime – but it’s too bad you can’t keep up with him all of the time. Jungkook’s stamina is high and yours isn’t all that exemplary.

But you do try your best to match it because you love it just as well. You love the feeling of his cum shooting inside your hole, him pushing it back into you in that non-overbearing possessive manner, and how he always tells you you’re such a good girl for taking more and more, just letting him give and give. 

It’s why you encourage him to get you to cum again – because god, you really also missed him so fucking bad. 

He just got back from LA, just arrived at your place five hours ago, and you expected him to sleep the whole night in – not when you know he worked so hard back there. His team just bagged a win, and they’re moving onto semis the next few weeks. 

But Jungkook informed you that he had to leave again in six days – had to train across oceans again with the team. Said that he just begged his coach to get him a one-week vacay when others only got four. 

It’s not unfair when he’s the star player of the team he’s been winning for in the entirety of the last year. Jungkook’s an NBA player who has gained much bigger success and popularity ever since he got drafted, despite being so young and fresh to the scene. 

And sure, he basks in it sometimes – likes the praise, likes the way winning makes him feel. He loves playing for the team. Loves the work that he does. 

But one thing he absolutely fucking loathes about it is that he has to fly off across states for a game, and that means leaving the comfort of your shared apartment – leaving you, not being with you. 

And so you understand greatly why he’s intense during reunions. Because as much as you’re happy with your current lawyering – in your second year now – you also miss those days back in college when you could just have each other every single day. 

“Yes, fuck– oh there, baby, that feels so good…” you moan when he hits a particular spot. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he encloses his hot mouth around your nipple again, alternating on suckling and nipping around it, his other hand fondling your other boob. But again, Jungkook seems to be so on edge right now that you let out an “Ow!” at one harsh bite. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook soothes it with a kiss to the tip, hips still moving against yours, cock going at a steady pace in and out of your pussy. “I just missed you so much, pretty girl. Those calls weren’t enough.” He whispers against your chest, this time lapping at your breasts more gently. 

You reach out for the messy locks that sit atop his head, smiling gently down at him even though he can’t see you. 

“Babe?” 

“Hm?”

“Do you want to take a video?” You ask, still caressing his hair. 

You don’t expect the way his hips stutter after your question. The quickness in which he peels his head away from your tits to look at you with a surprised face after that is almost laughable but that would be mean of you.

“What?” 

“A video. Of us. I dunno… maybe it will do us both good if we have something of us while we’re away from each other.” you shrug nonchalantly. 

You both aren’t strangers to sending nudes to each other or sexting in general. Jungkook sends you videos and pictures of his dick a lot of times – unprovoked and even on a random Tuesday at 2 fucking pm. And you send him your tits and risky pictures of you in crotchless panties when you feel like it. (Like when you’re taking a bath and you're feeling a bit raunchy with the soap suds all over your breasts… Jungkook gets so drunk off the pictures that he fucks you so good once he gets ahold of you in person.)

It used to be just tits but you’ve upgraded to pussy pics… hey, it’s just that you’ve grown more comfortable overtime.

Being with Jungkook for three years now, you can say that you’ve tried a lot of things with sex. But somehow… you’ve never really tried making a sex tape. 

Sure, Jungkook’s brought it up before. Asked you if you were interested in the idea – but you answerwd with an affirmative no. Photos were okay, but videos were off-limits, and Jungkook was completely fine with that. It is your body, and he understands thoroughly the anxiety that you have behind the idea of sexual digital footprint – you’re a woman after all, there’s ultimately danger as a consequence to the very idea. 

It’s not even Jungkook you don’t trust. God, you trust him so much – but it’s this paranoia about imaginary people who are out to get you. 

And so that has always held you back. 

But right now, as you feel Jungkook’s frustration about the long distance thing as much as his love while he drives you up the headboard with his loving, passionate thrusts, you can’t help but think that maybe you can give this a try. 

Filming a sextape, you meant. 

“Are you sure?” Jungkook blinks up at you, eyes wide as it opens and blinks continuously. 

You chuckle. “Yes. Why do you look so surprised?”

Jungkook smiles shyly, and it’s adorable because he’s literally balls deep in you right now. 

“I thought it was no-go.” 

“Please,” you roll your eyes playfully– but you’re soon cut off by a particular thrust. Jungkook knows this too, as he begins peppering kisses all over your jaw, humming to let you know he’s still listening. You stammer a little, but you manage to let out a continuation of your sentence, “I let you put your dick in my ass and spit in my mouth. Nothing is no-go between us at this point.” 

Your joke may not have been the funniest – as it just further riles Jungkook up by the way he suddenly picks up his speec. 

“Oh, fuck, you little minx – you really had to say that, huh?” He emerges from your neck and grabs your jaw – albeit softly. “Get me real fucking hard talking about those.” 

“You can do them to me on camera now.” you say, challenging. And you laugh when you feel him literally freeze. But it’s not as funny anymore when his cock throbs inside of you, and suddenly, you feel the urge to cum again. To release one more time.

He recovers quickly from the shock, though. “Yeah?” 

You gasp when he plunges his cock back into you, only leaving the first half of his length before he enters again. He repeats that motion until your neck is craned back and your eyes are seeing stars. 

“Keep going like that— yes, yes!” You say, starting to get hysterical because you can feel that coil in the pit of your stomach now. 

Just a few more pumps and it will come out anytime soon. 

“You’re so fucking hot and pretty, look at you.” Jungkook sighs, taking a hold of your hips this time so he can hit deeper. And he does hit deeper, alright – that it doesn’t really take too long before you spasm around his length again, your fifth orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. 

You lie there on the mattress completely lax while Jungkook goes on with a few more erratic trusts until you feel that hot liquid cum shooting straight to your hole. 

The both of you mewl in unison at the sensation, with Jungkook kissing your mouth to bask in the moment.

When he breaks away, he caresses your cheek and plants a sweet peck to the tip of your nose.

“We’re filming the sextape tomorrow but can I take a video of your pussy full of my cum right now?” He asks seriously, and his polite tone – as if he’s requesting something at the White House – makes you laugh again. You're so giggly now that he's back. Go figure.

(How you love him so much.)

“Okay.” you say, and you watch as his eyes widen, cock twitching inside your pussy that he still hasn’t pulled out from you yet.

“Fuck, you’re the fucking best.” He says as he picks up his phone from the nightstand. 

Turning it sideways, he grips the device with his left hand, turning the camera to your body. 

“Just make sure it doesn’t pick up my face, okay?” You say, but nonetheless enjoy the sight of his hooded eyes roaming around your naked body like he’s high on it. 

“I know. I’ll do that.” Jungkook murmurs, but you know he’s distracted, especially when you finally get to see the sudden shift in position where he’s kneeling on his calf now in between your spread legs. “Open wider for me, baby, let the camera see how full you are with my cock and cum.” 

You hiss at that, and you let Jungkook guide your thigh with his free hand as he helps you spread the two of them wider.

“Hold them for me, princess, just a min.” Jungkook says, folding your knees until they’re all up in your chest. With his help, you relax in that position, waiting for what he does next. “Good. Good girl. Always so behaved…” he trails off, and slowly, he slides out his cock from your heat. 

Jungkook thinks your face is the most beautiful he’s ever seen and your pussy stuffed, leaking with his cum is a close second. 

“Fuck.” He whispers, making sure the camera captures just how white your pussy is now with his thick cum – a product of five straight orgasms he’d coaxed out from you. He wants to highlight the way your pussy throbs, but sadly with the bad lighting and him using a phone camera, he can’t. 

Still, he relishes in the high of seeing you bare like this. With the tip of his cock just right beside your pussy, he slides the crown back to gather all the cum that dripped out, pushing it back into you. 

There's an overspill that coats his dick as well, and it’s making him feel things. Like his cock getting hard again even though he just came the second time. 

“Oh, Jungkook…” You sigh out, feeling overstimulated now. But as you look at his face, completely distracted, you enjoy the view instead. “You like that, baby?” You ask meekly, thinking that maybe he’d like that when he watches this again. 

“So fucking much, you have no fucking idea.” Jungkook huffs. “You’re so full already but there’s still so much leaking out.” 

“That’s all of you, Jungkook,” You say sweetly. 

“Hm. I know… shit… I just wanna do this everyday.” 

“Film is?” You snort. 

“Fucking you… being with you. I was going crazy in my hotel room at LA. Just wanna be with you all the time.” He laments. Jungkook presses on the phone and suddenly, he puts it back on the nightstand. 

“Awe. Poor baby.” You respond, tapping his forearm, putting your legs down while Jungkook soothes your thighs with gentle rubbing. 

You thought he’s done for the night, but suddenly, he says, “Angel, I may have lied. Can we film the sextape tonight, please?” 

You laugh. Again. And Jungkook just falls down your body, snuggles close to your chest as you instantly play with his hair. 

“Alright.” You say, craning your neck down to press a kiss on the crown of his head. 

[aurorawritestoescape]

GOING DOWN || 3,4 k

Joel Miller x f!reader | Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: you have a hot boyfriend and a hot ex who’s still obsessed with you. Why not get the best of both worlds?

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, darkish!reader, toxic!reader, boyfriend!Joel, ex who desperately wants you back!Frankie, soft!Frankie, infidelity (reader’s), praise kink, size kink, unprotected piv, creampie, handjob, m!oral, pussy eating, cum eating, f!masturbation, stalking (reader loves it), voyeurism, exhibitionism, swearing, dirty talk, pet names princesa-princess, mi amor- my love. Reader wears a dress. Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: I have no excuse for this one. I don’t know why I look at our baby Frankie and want to do all this. I’m not sorry though, it’s hot to me and also fictional😉 the title’s inspired by the song “I’m goin’ down” by Mary J. Blige and Frankie’s special talent😏 Happy Frankie Friday, my loves!💖

Written for @burntheedges ‘s roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was Exes. Thank you for the fun event, Kate❤️ Kisses to wonderful @milla-frenchy for beta-ing this filth😘 dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || more Frankie - The Hoodie

You are looking out of the window at the night street, illuminated by a few golden lights, when you feel Joel’s heavy hands on your hips and then his lips plant a kiss on your neck from behind.

“Let’s go to bed,” he mumbles, his gruff voice coated with lust.

“No, fuck me right here.”

He smiles against your neck.

“Really? Want the neighbors to see us, dirty girl?”

“Yeah. Neighbors,” you smirk, not tearing your eyes from the car parked outside your apartment building. Your ex’s Pickup.

Joel pierces you with his big stiff cock and before you start moaning like a whore, you open the window a little so you two can not only be visible, but also perfectly heard from the street. Cool autumn air hits your heated face and your nipples get hard under your thin dress.

"Oh yeah, Joel! Harder!" you cry out, reveling in the way he's dragging his huge manhood in and out your channel. You're taking it like a good girl-always wet and tight for your boyfriend's cock.

Your fingers swiftly pull down your neckline, exposing your bouncing tits to whoever might look through your window. And you're sure that someone is looking.

Not knowing about your sick game, Joel is grunting loudly, thrusting deep and hard into you, your back flush with his broad chest. He’s rubbing his stubble against your neck, then your cheek until you turn your face to him and your lips lock in a sloppy and passionate kiss, while he’s holding you close, drawing pleasure from your tight pussy.

Joel’s hand snakes under your dress and having found your naked cunt, begins swirling your clit between two thick fingers. You part from his mouth, whimpering loudly.

“Yeah, baby! Let ‘em hear what a slut you are for me. Getting fucked in front of the whole neighborhood.”

His words push you over the edge and you come on his cock, crying out from pleasure. You don’t fake it. There is no need. He is that good.

Joel follows you soon and shoots his thick warm cum into your pulsating core. When he stills and pulls out, you hastily fix your dress and grab your dog’s leash.

“I’ll walk Tom.” You kiss Joel with tongue and leave the apartment, leaking your boyfriend’s load with every move.

When you step out into the night, you walk along the street a few meters and tie your dog to a street pole. On your legs, trembling from the hard orgasm, you saunter to your ex’s truck.

The passenger door is already open for you when you reach it and you get in, feeling cold air lap at your pussy, coated in Joel’s cum.

A pair of beautiful kicked puppy eyes greet you there and you turn slightly in your seat to see your ex better in the dark car.

Frankie’s wearing a denim shirt, dark blue jeans and his favorite baseball cap that you always hated for hiding his gorgeous curls. He looks the same as the day you left him. Maybe the bags under his eyes are darker but it could be the poor lighting at fault.

“What are you doing here, Frankie?” Your voice is soft and calm, with a pinch of sadness thrown in for his sake.

The man nervously fixes his cap and glances at you from the side, like a guilty dog. He clears his throat and lies,

“ ‘m checking on you.”

His velvety voice caresses your ear, it’s soft like everything about his character. He starts chewing on his lip while his eyes are staring into the darkness ahead of him.

“No, you’re stalking me, baby. I see your Pickup everywhere I go. Near my work last week. I spotted you at the bar today. And now you’re here… spying on me through the window.”

He proves that he watched your little show when he spreads his thighs wider and bucks his hips, unwillingly attracting your attention to his big bulge. You both are quiet for a few moments.

“I miss you,” he finally admits, turning to you. His eyes are sad and sappy and you should feel sorry, bad or at least sympathetic but the overwhelming feeling in your heart is a triumph. He’s not over you. You’re the best he’s ever had and he desperately wants you back.

You’ve been feeling elated lately when you noticed Frankie stalking you. It’s been fun playing with him and you don’t plan on stopping. You pull your brows together and coo,

“I understand, baby, but you can’t keep coming here. Joel’s a jealous type. I don’t want any problems.”

While you’re talking, Frankie’s nodding along, eyes downcast. You place your hand on his shoulder and give it a comforting squeeze. His own big paw flies to yours and after bringing it to his mouth, he presses his lips to your palm. Your heart flutters at his need for you and your pussy tingles when you remember the way his plush lips were leaving kisses all over your body weeks ago.

“Baby,” you breathe out and he looks at you, not letting go of your hand. You see tears in his eyes, not enough to spill but enough to fuel up your ego. His eyes are so pretty like that, wet lashes and glossy chocolatey irises.

“Aww, Frankie,” you coo and open your arms to him. He rushes to you as if you’re his lifeline, wrapping his big strong arms around your torso and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You’re hugging him back, trying not to suffocate in his steel embrace and rubbing his muscular broad back. Frankie’s as big as Joel, both are much bigger than you, and warmth spreads deep in your core when his scent envelops you just like his body.

You smile when you notice him still wearing your favorite cologne.

Soon your body craves something more than just a hug so your lips part and a soft whimper escapes your mouth. You know well that your pretty noises always make him wild.

Your ex reacts immediately and you feel an open mouth kiss on your neck.

“Frankie.” Your tone is scolding yet fake and you sigh deeply, brushing his chest with your barely covered breasts. Your ex grumbles at the sensation and then whispers, his voice already strained with lust.

“I miss you so much.”

You hug him tighter and feel his hot breath on your cleavage when he leans lower to plant another kiss on your collarbone. His cap slides off his head and falls on the floor but he doesn’t care. Looking down at his beautiful dark curls you run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails and Frankie almost roars against your chest. His arms pull you closer to him, even though your torso is already flush with his. He slightly lifts you off the seat and you tug at his hair in warning, steel in your tone.

“Put me down, Frankie.”

He listens to you like he always does but your roughness earns another loud groan from him. You smile, imagining how hard his cock must be now.

Frankie leaves soft kisses on your clothed chest, your belly and soon his head is resting on your lap, while his arms are wrapped around your hips as if he’s scared you’ll float away.

You’re stroking his head, marveling at the silky waves of his hair, shining even in the dim light, and slightly tilt your hips up when his prominent nose pokes your mound through the thin fabric of your dress. As if thinking about the same thing, Frankie breathes in full lungs of your arousal and a guttural moan vibrates against your covered pussy.

“I miss her, mi amor,” you barely hear him mumble and you sigh. Recently satiated by Joels’s pounding, your core gets reignited with sticky desire and you bite your lip, your dark gaze sliding over his sexy shoulders and his head, with his face hidden. You part your legs just slightly, letting him closer to your needy pussy.

Like a dog sniffing out his favorite treat, Frankie’s nuzzling your lap, and his lips and nose are brushing against your thighs, your lower belly, your cunt through the fabric.

You gasp when his fingers dig into your soft hips a bit too hard and he hastily relaxes his grip and looks up at you.

“Sorry, princesa.” His blown out eyes are filled with guilt and want and you give him a smile, cupping his scruffy cheek.

“It’s ok, baby, just be careful with me, ‘k? No marks.”

“Yes, yes, of course, mi amor,” he murmurs, returning his head back onto your lap.

After a couple of minutes in his arms, the fire in your core morphs into an ache and you squirm under him with impatience.

“I should go, Frankie. Joel’s gonna worry.”

“No, please,” he almost whines, hugging you tighter. “I—,” he stumbles.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I —? Can I see her?”

He’s staring up at you and you tilt your head to the side, faking confusion.

“Who?”

He knows that you understand but you need him to say it. So he plays by your rules. Like he always does.

“Can I see your beautiful pussy?” He sits up, facing you, his huge body squeezed in between the wheel and his seat. His bulge looks even more prominent now and you gush at the thought that he must be leaking into his boxers.

“Oh, Frankie, baby, you know I have a boyfriend. I can’t.”

His pleading eyes are fixed on you as he begs,

“Please, mi amor, just a look. I miss her so much. I miss you. Please.”

With another fake sigh you glance out of the window to check the surroundings, and after finding the street empty, you turn back to him.

“Ok, just for a second. Get in the back.”

“Thank you, mi amor,” he mumbles, hurrying out of the truck.

You squeeze between the front seats and sit down, turning to Frankie as he joins you at the back of the car. Your ex impatiently grabs the hem of your dress but you stop him.

“No one should know about this, understand?”

Frankie nods eagerly, mumbling yes’s like a junkie before getting a hit of his drug and you let him lift your dress and expose your naked pussy.

Your hands clutch the dress against your waist, and your legs are pressed together but it’s evident how wet you’re - your folds shine with Joel’s cum and your slick arousal.

Frankie’s breath hitches and his broad chest expands, straining his shirt.

“Beautiful,” he praises as his hand flies to the apex of your thighs.

“Nah-ah”, you grab his big paw midair and place it on top of your thigh.

“No touching. You wanted to look, right?”

“Yeah,” Frankie halfheartedly agrees, furrowed brows showing his discontent. “Then at least open your legs, princesa. Need to see her better.”

You try to contain your excitement as you tut at your ex,

“You’re so naughty, baby.”

You slowly part your thighs wide enough for your pussy to bloom in front of his hungry eyes.

Frankie’s mouth goes slack and his gaze clouds up when he sees your glistening pussy lips, puffy clit and your inviting hole. You shift a little on the seat, leaving wetness on the leather, and when you clench your walls in anticipation, you both see a little bit of pearly white liquid slide out of your entrance.

“Is this…?” Frankie mumbles, not tearing his eyes off your recently used cunt.

“Yeah. I know you’ve been watching Joel fuck me so don’t pretend that you’re surprised. My pussy’s full of his cum,” you say with defiance and wait for his reaction.

Frankie’s softly growls and his hand on your thigh contracts into a fist.

“Shhh, big boy,” you purr, bringing your fingers to your pussy. You gather some of Joel’s seed, leaking from your hole, and spread the creamy juices over your hardened clit. You rub yourself a few times and when a soft moan escapes your lips, Frankie echoes you.

“Feels so good,” you admit and begin pleasuring yourself in front of your ex.

“Jesus— fuck,” Frankie mumbles. His eyes are obsidian, forehead glistening with sweat with a few wet curls stuck to it. With his gaze tormented and pained, he reaches down to his belt.

“What are you doing, baby?” you ask, pausing your ministrations.

Frankie freezes and replies, stumbling over his words,

“I need — need to take my dick out. It hurts.”

“Ok, Frankie.” He hastily unzips his jeans when you add, “But don’t touch it.”

Frankie groans but then sighs with relief when he pulls the waistband of his boxers down, tucks it under his balls and his cock springs free. It hits his shirt and leaves a dark wet spot.

His member is throbbing, the dark pink tip, glossy and fat, is oozing his clear need for you and you lick your lips, enticing the man even more.

Frankie follows your orders and lets his cock bob and drip pre-fuck juice all over his balls and jeans while you moan again, tracing your sopping hole.

Your ex rubs his cheek, focused on the place he desperately wants to claim with his tongue and cock and croaks after wetting his plush lips,

“Let me kiss her, mi amor.”

Bingo.

That’s what you wanted as soon as you saw him at the bar today. If you cared to admit maybe you already dreamed about it when you noticed him stalking you last week. But what’s a prize without a game? Now it feels extra special.

With a little smile, you throw off your shoe and plant your bare foot on the seat, opening your thighs wider for him.

“You gonna taste another man’s cum on my pussy? just to kiss her?”

Frankie’s eyes snap up to yours and you see his defeat, his despair, his love in their depths.

He nods silently.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” you coo. “Ok, baby, go ahead.”

With a grunt Frankie bends down, slowly adjusting his position between your legs so it’s comfortable for you, and when his soft warm lips kiss your cold cunt, you flutter your eyes shut with a pleased mewl.

Frankie’s always been the best at pussy eating. Joel often goes down on you but it’s different. He demands your ecstasy, claims your pussy with his mouth, makes you scream when his rough tongue impatiently rubs at your clit. His movements say ‘Give me’ while he’s eating you out.

But Frankie. He’s whispering “Take it”. Take your time, take your bliss, take my lips and tongue and use them, let yourself drown in pleasure. He laps at you softly and languidly, licking your pussy like it’s the most delicate flower, the most delicious fruit.

You grab your phone out of your pocket and text Joel that you met a friend by accident and need to catch up.

Frankie doesn’t see any of it, he’s gone, fully concentrated on pleasuring your soft cunt. His hands are gently holding your thighs apart, his face buried in your pussy.

“How’s she?” you whisper, raking your fingers through his silky curls and tugging on them slightly to get his attention when he doesn’t respond right away.

“I taste him on you,” Frankie grumbles, parting from your sex, “‘m gonna get it off you.”

He returns to work, making out with your folds and sucking the other man’s cum off your clit and you already feel yourself close to unraveling.

“Yes, like that, baby. My pussy misses you.”

You feel Frankie smile against your cunt before he begins stroking your clit with his tongue again and again until you cry out his name into your hand, while your hole clamps around nothing, walls contract and release another portion of Joel’s thick load.

Trembling from the orgasm that’s rippling through your body, you watch Frankie lap at your entrance, drinking the runaway seed and your slick, prolonging your shattering climax with this depraved act.

He doesn’t stop kissing your pussy until you get overstimulated and try to close your legs.

“Did so good for me, Frankie,” you murmur through heavy breaths.

“Thank you, mi amor,” your ex gruffs, sitting up, his face blushed, the gaze hazy and drunk on you.

He’s shivering from the arousal, his engorged cock generously leaking precum, and you take mercy on the man.

You scoot closer to him, wrap your hand around his hot cock and start slowly pumping it. It’s soaked with his juices so your palm slides easily over his hard length but to make him absolutely wild you gather some slick off your cunt and rub the underside of his cock where his tip meets the shaft with your wet thumb.

Frankie moans like a needy slut and in a second the first rope of cum shoots out of his slit.

You hastily lower your head, take the head between your lips and start drinking his load as he’s feeding it to you, jerking and thrusting his hips up, while your hand is gliding over his shaft.

You swallow everything to the last drop and lick it all over, cleaning his cock and earning a jerk of overstimulation from your ex. Then you sit up, wiping your mouth curled into a satisfied smile.

“Fuck, princesa, I love you,” Frankie breathes out falling onto the backrest, his cock softening but still standing at attention. You smile at his confession and your hunger finally seems satisfied.

You begin fixing your clothes and he watches you for a few seconds before tucking his cock into his jeans and then shifting closer to you. He gets into your space and you feel his warm hand pressed to your lower back. His huge frame is looming over you and you look up into his chocolaty eyes. They seem sad again.

“I want you back, mi amor—I... I need you.”

You sigh deeply and shake your head, taking his big hand in yours.

“You know it’s over, Frankie. I’m sorry, but I’m with Joel now.”

“Why? Why can’t you be with me? Why is he better?” He asks, furrowing his brows and leaning even closer to you.

“Baby,” you whine, averting your gaze from his puppy eyes and tracing hearts on his hand. “We talked about it. He’s …he’s like whiskey, he’s rough and heady and… you’re like hot chocolate, Frankie. You’re sweet but you’re too saccharine for me.”

“I can get rough with you, princesa.”

You giggle and shake your head.

“It’s not who you are, baby. And it’s ok. Someone will love you for it one day.”

You hear him sniff before he yanks his hand away from yours.

You know you should leave, break it off once and for all but the sick, mean, greedy side of your soul wants to pull him back as soon as you have pushed him away.

“Frankie,” you purr and grab his arm as he’s about to get out of the car. A slight touch from you is all it takes to stop him and he turns to you, his eyes glossy, his expression defeated.

You get closer to him and take his face between your hands. To kiss him goodbye. To poison him more.

He falls into the kiss head first, embracing you tightly, pressing his torso to yours so close it’s difficult to breathe.

You both moan against each other’s lips and you pull on his hair with passion and possessiveness. His tongue is licking into your mouth and you’re tasting yourself, sensing a faint trace of Joel’s cum. It’s so sick and twisted that another surge of arousal burns your core.

You make out for some time until you part from his lips.

“I should go, Frankie,” you whisper, snaking out of his embrace.

Frankie’s arms fall and he nods, looking lost and inebriated. You use this moment to hastily get out of his car.

“Bye, baby,” you chirp, smiling at him, but before you close the door he wakes up from the trance and calls for you.

“I won’t stop, mi amor,” he admits with determination in his shaky voice. “I’m gonna keep coming. I need you.”

“I know,” you say with a fake sigh and close the door.

You’re walking to get Tom, feeling Frankie’s eyes on your back, and trying to calm down, you bite your lip, but the excitement overwhelms you and soon a triumphant smile spreads across your face.

Thank you for reading!💖

MASTERLIST || more Frankie- The Hoodie

tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk

Tagging lovelies who showed interest in my Wip post @sawymredfox @604to647 @thundermartini @bonezone44 @casa-boiardi

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie was all about desecrating corpses. 

Particularly, the huge ones--and nothing was larger than the burnt out husk of Starcourt. 

Yellow caution tape, muddied and ripped from its time in the weather still decorated parts of the doors. 

The place used to be crawling with security, but that had eased off now, the job returning to a local outfit rather than the smooth and swift guards who previously haunted the joint in pairs. 

It was easy as two days spent camped out in his van, watching the main entrance and a few side doors. In no time at all, Eddie had schedules memorized, points of entry selected and even three possible escape routes should things get dicey.

He didn't expect them to. 

Not when he’d already rolled his checks and came up with a number that, were this an actual D&D game, would make him a happy man. 

It was always a point of contention between him and his Pa. This perception. The natural ability he had that good ‘ol dad just didn’t seem to possess. 

The one that made him patient long enough to get a feel for a gig. 

To know instinctively how hard a job might be, and how to go about doing it safely. 

(Eddie personally doesn't believe much of it is talent. Thinks it is in fact, forcibly learned, due to the nature of his upbringing. 

Grandma and Grandpa Munson, bless their dead, departed souls, had at least given something of a shit. Tried to keep family things family and work things work, even when said work was illegal as it gets. 

They understood things like appearance and public reputation. 

How that kept the pigs off your back and food on your table.)

His Pa had never cared for any of that. 

Eddie didn’t grow up with family meals, or even food in the house let alone on the table. He grew up watchful, forced to learn or take a hit meant for an adult in the process. To weigh the risks against the benefits, and how to charm the pants off an unsuspecting target while doing so. 

It was how he’d escaped his own prison sentence when his Pa finally got eyes too big for his abilities.

Eddi had gotten lucky in that situation. 

Or rather--he’d gotten Wayne. 

Wayne, who gave up his own room, his own bed, for his nephew. Had bought him his sweetheart on his sixteenth birthday and a van on his eighteenth. Both things were used, and a little battered around the edges, and Eddie had almost thrown up the day he accidentally found out Wayne had used his life savings for the damn car, but they were above and beyond anything he had any right too. 

Eddie would be damned without him. 

But he knows his uncle needs help. 

Can't pay for himself and Eddie. Never really could, and so has been giving his nephew literally everything he has in an effort to make up for it until Eddie could help pay his way. 

Not that a singular soul would trust a teenage Munson with such a precious thing as a part time job, and so Eddie had turned to the familiar. 

The mall fire, and the resulting flood of federal agents had really put a damper on his income the past few months. Drugs were risky, and getting riskier with them sniffing about, and things were getting tight again in a way they hadn’t in a long, long time. 

(All it had taken was finding the hidden stack of bills. 

Big ol’ words stamped in red topped every one. Bold letters screaming ‘Overdue’ and ‘Payment Missed’ and ‘Late Fees.’ 

One single letter had panicked Eddie more than any other, the one that clearly said Wayne had been talking to the payday loan place down the street, and he’d be damned if his shortcomings made his Uncle willingly walk into a debt pit so few climbed out of.) 

Growing up like he had, Eddie was trusted in certain circles. Had access to places many didn't as his sole inheritance, because he was known.

 Someone who didn't rat, who could be trusted with given tasks. Who kept to the criminal code, and was good about not backstabbing you if caught.

He’d hit up a few old connections, dropped some hints. Put out “feelers” as one might say. 

Got a nibble and soon enough, Eddie was back in business, getting called up and offered a few small tasks for decent dough. 

Sometimes it was fetching information. 

Sometimes it was ferrying an item.

Today, it was a retrieval.

There was something someone wanted in the ruins of Starcourt--and they were offering an insane amount of money to get it.  

The plans hadn't made sense, not at first. The instructions Eddie had been given sounded outlandish, if not outright total bunk. 

Like the existence of a multi level basement under Starcourt? How the hell had no one caught that being built? 

Or that the security systems down there could possibly still be turned on? After four months? 

Who was even paying for it? 

Eddie had heard stupider things though, and the pay for this little jaunt was good. Too good to pass up. 

"They want a local in case something happens and the rescue squad comes running in. That way, it's just a little trespassing fun. The town deviant getting his kicks in the big scary mall, and not what they think it is." His connection had told him, meeting with Eddie in a Mcdonalds the town over. 

The place had a play palace, big enough to host a number of screaming rugrats. It made for a great cover as they pretended to be just two men in overalls, getting burgers on their lunch. 

Not a soul could hear a sound over the kids screaming, and if a blueprint sat between them then, well, if it looks like a maintenance worker, and it talks like a maintenance worker…

People never did look twice.

"And what else exactly would they think this is?" Eddie asked, munching on the food he got for free as part of even entertaining the offer. 

"A retrieval, Double D." 

Eddie hated that nickname.

"Some rich kid bit it in the fire, and his parents are paying out top dollar to get a few of his things, seein’ as the feds wouldn’t let anybody back in after they condemned the place." The guy, whose name was Mickey said. 

He idly traced a finger along the lines of the blueprint, the path he was wanting Eddie to take. 

(The path Eddie would later ignore, on grounds that it was going to get him caught.) 

 “Specifically a signet ring and car keys.”

“Car keys?” Eddie had asked, mostly in a bid for more information. Mickey was the kind of guy you could breadcrumb into giving more information than he intended to, if one played their cards right.

And Eddie was a damn good poker player. 

“Yup. Goes to a BMW--which they want you to drive to a safe place. Parents think he lost it somewhere around,” Mickey’s finger stopped, before tapping the blueprint twice. “Here.”

Something had niggled in the back of Eddie’s head. The first whispers of recognition, of a fact that he knew something about this--something he couldn’t yet recall. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it. 

“Who's the kid?” He’d asked. 

Mostly because he was curious, partially because it was a way to ease in the real questions he wanted to ask.

Like what a rich kid was doing four levels down in Starcourt the night of the fire. 

“Does it matter?” Mickey said, but dug into his pockets anyway. Retrieved a little 2 by 3 wallet photo, done in the traditional High School Picture Day style. 

He’d tossed it on the table, and Eddie didn’t react. 

Kept his face perfectly blank, even as his stomach contracted and his breath caught in his chest. 

Carefully pulled the picture to him, to make a show of examining it. 

“Don’t know him.” He lied after a moment, fighting to get his breathing back under control before Mickey figured out what was up. 

“Told you it didn’t matter. What matters is that you get the shit. And hey, while you’re down there…” 

Mickey talked a bit more, and idly, Eddie listened. He knew this little B&E was going to have more components than just retrieving a few things. Had long figured out that this entire front of retrieving “some rich kids keys” was just that--a front. 

Word on the street was that Starcourt was hiding something--something a lot of very powerful people were getting increasingly interested in. He’d rolled his eyes when he caught wind of the first little rumblings, the rumors and whispers that the thing was shrouded in Government secrets and conspiracies, but hadn’t been able to ignore the shit that had come after. 

Likely, the people who had hired him and Mickey understood they had to act now, before someone else did, to see if anything worthwhile was actually down there. 

The real question is why the hell they were using Steve Harrington’s death to do it--when Eddie knew for a fact that Steve Harrington was alive. 

Or alive as anyone could be, at two am at a Shell gas station. 

“Alright.” Eddie said finally, pulling the blueprint towards himself before rolling it up, making sure to casually roll up Harrington’s picture with it. “You got me interested. Half up front and I’m in.”

Mickey grinned at him. “Knew you would be, kid.” 

One hand shake and a hefty envelope later, and Eddie found himself on the way to Starcourt on his very first stakeout. 

It was that first initial look that confirmed it--Harrington’s prized BMW was in fact, still sitting in the parking lot.

Abandoned by rich assholes who absolutely could have paid to have it towed.

Which led to a domino effect of stakeouts, late nights and confrontations, up to and including his present position, counting down the minutes before he could break into Starcourt.

“Ready?” He murmured, and one could be forgiven for thinking he was talking to himself given how quietly he said it.

They would be wrong. 

“Yeah.” The not-so-dead rich kid drawled from the passenger seat.

Eddie tossed a grin at Harrington, who rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Come on, Stevie.” He purred. “Let’s go find out who impersonated your parents, and why they want that ring you supposedly own so badly.” 

“Honestly dude I just want my car back.” 

“That too.” 

[blxrrii]

Proxy Edging Headcanons

I hope this isn't too cringe. Enjoy!

NSFW Below the cut! Read at your own discretion

Masky:

Loves it.

Will literally watch as you peak and then slow down just enough where it doesn’t completely kill your buildup but also doesn’t let you finish.

He wants to watch you beg. Beg him to let you release, to cum all over his dick. He loves the power, knows that he has full control over you and that you’re at his will.

Go ahead, sunshine, show me how much you want to come

It gives him an ego boost, seeing tears fall down your pretty face because of how built up you are waiting for release.

Attempting to edge Masky is practically impossible

He only ever doms, and only ever wants complete and utter control of what’s going on in the bedroom

If he even senses that you’re trying to play games with him, well-

1) if he’s in a good mood, he’ll probably be amused, and draw it out a little while longer to see where you’re headed with it.

2) If he’s in a bad mood, he’ll waste no time putting you in your place.He’ll flip you over and blow your back out, whispering into your ear about how you’re nothing but holes for him to fill, and will practically force you to repeat out loud for everyone in close vicinity to hear. 

In the end he’ll leave you a blubbering mess, with only the knowledge that you’re his cocksleeve

Hoodie:

Your whines are a sweet melody to him

He’ll fuck your cunt mercilessly, but the moment he hears your breathing increase rapidly and your moans get louder, he’ll slow down

He practically lives for how your pussy tightens against his dick in search for more.

Rubs at your clit while you whine and plead him to continue. 

Once he does, he’ll go right back at it, degrading you as if he weren’t the one who left you hot and bothered.

Are you really that desperate for my cock?

Hoodie is a patient man, and could definitely keep up doing the same thing for a while

He’ll bring you just before your peak, then bring you back down midway. He’ll keep at it until you’re reduced to nothing but a desperate, needy slut.

And the worst part about it all is that he’ll make it seem as if it was your fault, or that it was some sort of burden to make you come as if he wasn’t enjoying every second of it.

Hoodie is one of those people where, even if you think you are domming, you never are

You could be riding him and he could be doing nothing but laying there— but the moment he flashes a smile you’re suddenly at his whims at moving to please him.

Edging Brian would be hard, because it’s all praise and wanting approval with him that even the idea of it completely flies from your mind.

But — if you do manage to get past that, Hoodie would challenge you, in a sense. See how far you could hold this act

Though, somehow, it always ends up in you crying and begging for release, doesn’t it?

Ticci Toby

Toby fucks just as wild as his personality is

That being said, Toby isn’t all too great at keeping you from coming

If he knows you’re enjoying it, and he’s gaining pleasure from it as well, why stop or slow down?

He does enjoy hearing you beg, and will tease you until he’s heard you whine just enough

Come on, tell me how bad you want to come all over my dick

Edging him…. Well

Toby is vocal during sex, especially if he bottoms.

His voice is scratchy and hits the ears just right, particularly when he’s whispering pleas into it and running his fingers across your body.

It’s cute, if anything. The way you have him so easily wrapped around your finger, have him pleading like a little puppy

You're his, and he is yours

[cozage]

CONGRATS ON 2K!!!!

For the request idk what I want really but I don't wanna miss out 😭

But as a dedicated Luffy simp could I get some sort of soft smut? It's fine if not but I saw your post saying something about wanting to do more of those <3

A/N: I had a very similar request for Sanji so were just going to do the monster trio for this one 🙂

Characters: reader x Luffy, Sanji, Zoro Cw: NSFW Minors pls skedaddle, orgasms, the usual sex stuff I don't think they’re too freaky Total word count: 900

Unspoken Words Finally Said

Luffy

You and Luffy had been friends from the moment you met him. At first, you thought there might be something more between the two of you. 

But he was your captain. And Luffy was…Luffy. He was just overly friendly with everyone. 

The celebration from Dressrosa had everyone in good spirits, and the alcohol had Luffy a little more clingy than usual. But you found yourself leaning into his touch. 

And when it was just the two of you still awake, you found yourself leaning into his lips. 

It was a shocking revelation for both of you, and you found yourself smiling in relief when he pushed his lips back against you. 

“My room,” he mumbled into your mouth. He wrapped his arms around you and picked you up, carrying you across the deck. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

And he had no idea how long you had waited for this, either. Every stolen glance, every little smile, every brushing touch; it hadn’t been your imagination. 

He proved his love and devotion the only way he knew how: through his actions. The way his hands gently caressed your body, how eager he was to finally be inside you. 

He moaned out your praises, how good you felt, how pretty your moans were, and he did not give you a moment's rest until he collapsed next to you on the bed, both of you well spent. 

And as you curled into him and fell asleep, you couldn’t help but be thankful for every moment that finally led you to this. 

Sanji

Sanji was a flirt. His sweet comments and adoration weren’t exclusive to you. You knew that. 

You were a flirt too. Your spunky attitude wasn’t something that only the cook got the pleasure in being a part of. He knew that. 

And yet, the two of you went around and around, working hard to catch the other off guard and get one another flustered. 

The first time you had shot back with a flirtatious remark, Sanji had almost died. But he had built up a sort of tolerance to your comments and soft touches, until one night the two of you jokingly offered up a friendly game of strip poker. 

And now here he was, balls deep inside of you as tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. He felt so good inside of you, his long, slender cock hitting all of the right places. 

“Sanji,” you whimpered. “I’m going to-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, a wave of ecstasy washing over you and causing you to moan out in pure pleasure. You could feel yourself clenching around Sanji, so tight that he couldn’t even continue pumping himself inside of you. 

“Marry me,” Sanji babbled. “Oh god, marry me right now.”

His hips jutted, a final push to get himself as far inside you as he could manage, and you could see his eyes roll back in his head as he was brought to the feeling of pure pleasure. 

Now that you had him, you never wanted to let him go. 

Zoro

You hadn’t meant to end up in Zoro’s room. Or in his bed. And you certainly hadn’t meant to end up face down, moaning into his pillow as he slammed himself inside of you. 

“Zoro-” your moans were cut off as his hand pushed your head back into the pillow, trying to get the arc of your back just right as he slammed his cock inside of you. 

“Shhh,” he hissed. “Someone is going to hear you.”

But his speed and vigor picked up, and you smiled to yourself knowing that he liked the idea of getting caught. He always liked to live on the edge. 

After both of you finished, Zoro collapsed on top of you, trapping you underneath him. You managed to turn over so you wouldn’t suffocate into the pillow, but Zoro laid firmly on top of you, his head resting on your chest. Soft snores told you that you wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

Spending the night here wouldn’t be so bad, even if it might lead to questions later from the crew. You ran your fingers through his mossy green hair and slowly drifted off to sleep. 

You and Zoro had been friends ever since you joined the crew. He was comfortable in his sexuality, and so were you, which led to a lot of fun conversations. But you had never expected this impromptu one-night stand to happen with him. It had all just been casual conversation…even if you had been a little curious. 

In the morning, you carefully tried to get out of bed without waking him, but you failed miserably. He stirred the moment you moved and raised his head, groggily looking around. And then he froze when he realized you were underneath him. 

“So that really happened last night, huh?” He gave a little smirk. “I thought it was a dream.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Do you dream about me, mosshead?”

He usually hated it when you called him by Sanji’s nickname, but today he only hummed in delight. “Maybe sometimes. The real thing was way better than any dream, though.”

[serendipitous-imagines]

Can you do a Homicipher Mr Gap x transmasc reader smut fic? Maybe w him eating the reader out? Perhaps?

cws/tws: female genitalia verbiage, oral, fingering, begging, edging

omg,,, my first homicipher request!! i have been so in love with all of the characters in this game and it has been so fun playing through all of the routes! i do get easily jumpscared bc i am a coward but hey, fear and adrenaline adds to emotions I am pretty sure ;> as always~ the fun stuff is under the cut~

Where were you again...? Oh, right, you were stuck down here, running around mindlessly, looking for an elevator that may or may not bring you back to your world... And everyone surrounding you was a creature that was almost beyond human comprehension. But... they were kind, kinder than anyone had ever really been to you, and they cared, they cared so much about you, about how you felt, about how your body ached and reacted. Sure, it could have been because they wanted to do experiments on you, maybe even take your arms, but it being cared for like this felt so nice. Honestly, it would be a waste to leave everyone down here. How would you even live life normally again after meeting everyone? A soft groan escaped your lips as you rolled over on the bed, flopping your head down into the pillow that had definitely been untouched for a while, but it was better than laying on the ground. You could not imagine how it felt for Mr. Chopped- where even was he? Where was anyone? The room suddenly felt far more cold and empty than it had before. Anxiety crept into your chest and in an attempt to comfort yourself, you pulled the white blanket up to your head, wanting to hide from the vast empty echoes of the labyrinth where you found yourself confined. ... Why did it feel like you were being watched...? Lifting the sheet up hesitantly, you tilted your head downwards, unknowingly holding your breath as you glanced down at your legs. Nothing... You set the sheet down and let out the breath you had been holding, looking around the room. You were just being paranoid because you were alone, there was nothing to worry about, you were sure Mr. Crawling would be around at any moment and you would feel better. Shaking your head, you lifted the sheets to lay back down and- "AHHHH!!!!" Your whole body jumped, a scream involuntarily coming out, legs pressing together as you made eye contact with Mr. Gap smiling up at you from under the covers. "When did you get here?!" you yelled, fingers trembling as you held the sheets up, eyes wide.

"I help..." Mr. Gap mumbled, a smile on his face, his visible eye upturned with small crinkles in the corners of them. "Is there a reason why you are smiling so hard?" you asked, a smile on your face, wondering what organ or part of your body he was going to ask to take. Mr. Gap tilted his head, not understanding your question, his smile still ever-so-prevalent. "Give?" he asked. "Me want have." Mr. Gap repeated, his voice a little more firm. You could feel his warm breath hitting the insides of your thighs, goosebumps appearing on your skin from the warmth in the cold room. "Want what?" you asked, thighs shifting to close from the embarrassment of Mr. Gap's head being so close to such intimate areas. "Want you." Strong hands wrapped themselves around the inside of your thighs, pinning them open despite your attempts to force them closed. "M-me?!" your voice squeaked in surprise as your pants were ripped clear off of your legs. Mr. Gap's face leaned forward, huffing your scent, his fingers digging deeper into the squishy flesh of your thighs. "Smell good. Smell like. Want. Want. Want." Mr. Gap repeated, massaging your thighs in his palms obsessively, his words melting into mere mumbles as his teeth caught the fabric of your underwear, ripping them off (though you were unsure if he ate them or dropped them onto the bed, they were destroyed anyways). "Mr. Gap..." a breathless mutter came from your lips as Mr. Gap's mouth wrapped around your pussy, his tongue frotting against your clit. Your hips lifted at the sensation, a small whine leaving your lips as Mr. Gap's tongue started to speed up, greedily lapping up the arousal that started to drip from your vagina. How did he even know how to do this? Your hand slid beneath the sheets, wrapping your fingers around his hair as his tongue buried itself inside of your pussy, rubbing against your insides, easily gliding around in your arousal. Mr. Gap let out a low groan, a noise you had never heard him make before as his hand slid up your thigh before hovering just below his chin. His lips wrapped themselves hungrily around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves as two of his fingers circled around your soaked and sensitive entrance. A moan of pure desperation and a need like none other you have felt before came from your agape mouth, tugging on Mr. Gap's long hair, which had started to become knotted between your fingers. Your gazes caught one another, and you could see and feel his smile get wider before he sunk his fingers without warning into you. Your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, walls clenching around Mr. Gap's unforgiving fingers that slid deep inside like he was going to pull your internal organs out from you. Your hips rocked, riding his fingers as his tongue pressed against your clit, flicking up and down as he sucked. Those calloused fingers provided a much needed texture, curling inside of you and forcing your walls wider open. Hearing such beautiful mewls coming from you, and feeling your hips starting to tremble, closing in on your orgasm, Mr. Gap cruelly slid his slick-covered digits out of your pussy, rubbing your hole as you gasped and looked at him with eyes that could only be described as downright pathetic. In an action even more cruel, he pulled his mouth away from your swollen and throbbing clit. Your head lifted, your eyes wide in surprise as he rested his head on your thigh and just smiled at you, a taunting, cruel smile. "You know exactly what you are doing..." you whined out, rolling your hips towards his face. "Me funny." "No," you retorted back with a pout on your lips. Mr. Gap laughed, fingers still mindlessly rubbing your opening, which was now soaking the sheets beneath you. "Me funny. You cute." Mr. Gap looked up at your face, which was twinged pink before he pushed three of his fingers inside of you, pumping them in and out of your hole far rougher than he had before. At full force, your orgasm hit your body at full force, crying out Mr. Gap's name as your cum squirted into his mouth and he greedily swallowed it.

FANDOMS ~ MASTERLIST ~ COMMISSIONS ~ REQUESTS

[majikkulu]

━━ ❝MASTERLIST❞

these are my personal observations and may not resonate with everyone. please take them with a grain of salt, as i'm not a professional astrologer! :))

credits to @m1nd-r0t for introducing the asteroid messerschmidt! took a while to really sink in, so i hope i understood it well!

𓂃⋆.˚

★ MESSERSCHMIDT (16450) in your chart isn't something subtle or easy. it’s a heavy hand, a brutal cut that pulls you to the edge, tearing apart whatever comfort you have and showing you the raw aftermath. think of it as life ripping the bandaid off in the most unforgiving way possible, pushing you into chaos and leaving you with consequences you have no choice but to confront. it’s a ruthless teacher, one that throws you into the darkest extremes of your own existence until you face parts of yourself you never wanted to see.

★ EXAMPLE: ted bundy's messerchmidt his messerschmidt in the 2nd house, sitting in libra at 4°—a cancer degree—screams deep self-worth issues. he was a man starved for validation, but in the most twisted, destructive way. he might have craved material things, but it wasn’t really about possessions; libra’s influence made it all about power and control in relationships. his interactions with women were warped, nothing short of vicious—manipulative, domineering, a game of possession. to him, women were objects, there only for his control and exploitation. he hid behind a charming mask, using it to get what he wanted from people. libra rules justice, which adds another layer; i think he wrestled internally, questioning if his actions were “right.” but he twisted the narrative to justify himself, feeding his twisted sense of entitlement. he saw the world as unfair, and his answer was brutal violence. his need for validation was so consuming that it fueled his drive to dominate, the same way his violent behavior erupted. his crimes? just a sick means to feed his hollow self-worth. that cancer degree points back to family—his home life likely left him void of real love. maybe his mother or caretaker was absent, emotionally cold, or worse, stoking his bitterness and rage against women.

𓂃⋆.˚

MESSERCHMIDT IN ARIES / 1TH HOUSE you’re your own worst enemy here. messerschmidt in aries/1st house rips through self-restraint, pushing you to make reckless decisions that only ever end in chaos. the self-destruction comes fast and hits hard—you’ll tear down your own sense of identity until there’s nothing left. this isn’t a gentle self-discovery; it’s a brutal unraveling. it’ll chew you up and spit you out as you’re forced to face the fallout of your own impulsiveness, stripped down and exposed, fighting against a world you’ve alienated.

MESSERCHMIDT IN TAURUS / 2ND HOUSE comfort, security, stability—everything you think you own or control is on thin ice here. messerschmidt is merciless; it tears apart everything you rely on, leaving you clutching at straws. your worth, your money, your possessions—there’s always something threatening to rip it away. you’re taught, over and over, that nothing is safe. material loss, the constant gnawing feeling of instability—this placement forces you to face the hollowness of everything you think you need to survive.

MESSERCHMIDT IN GEMINI / 3RD HOUSE mental warfare. your thoughts spiral, your words turn toxic, and there’s no escape. it’ll ruin relationships, sever connections, and leave you isolated in the ruins of your own making. your mind is a battlefield, where the casualties are your closest ties and any sense of peace you might’ve had. there’s a pull toward paranoia, obsession, mental exhaustion that drags you down, leaving a chaotic mess that no one wants to touch. it’s relentless.

MESSERCHMIDT IN CANCER / 4TH HOUSE home becomes a prison with this placement. family trauma isn’t just present—it defines you. every illusion of safety gets ripped to shreds. family relationships go from complicated to toxic to something that rots you from the inside out. you’re left picking up the pieces of a childhood or family life that doesn’t hold anything close to comfort, leaving scars that never fully heal. even as you rebuild, it’ll tear it down again. issues with maternal figures or just women in general.

MESSERCHMIDT IN LEO / 5H HOUSE self-expression? try self-destruction. this placement brings you face-to-face with the ugly side of your ego. creative pursuits crash and burn as quickly as they ignite, and romantic entanglements turn into battlegrounds of shattered pride. your need for attention or recognition backfires spectacularly, leaving you humiliated or hollowed out. you’ll keep reaching for validation that doesn’t come, each failure leaving you angrier and more desperate.

MESSERCHMIDT IN VIRGO / 6TH HOUSE this is the grind from hell. messerschmidt won’t let you rest; it’ll drive you to perfectionism so extreme it bleeds you dry. health issues, toxic work environments, and burnout are your constant companions. you push yourself to breaking point over and over, and every time you think you’re close to relief, you’re torn down again. this placement demands everything, and it leaves you holding the scraps of what used to be your sanity.

MESSERCHMIDT IN LIBRA / 7TH HOUSE relationships here are wreckage waiting to happen. messerschmidt drags your heart through betrayal after betrayal, leaving you with trust issues so deep they fester. you attract partners who bring out the worst in you, leading to cycles of breakups, power struggles, and raw exposure of every insecurity you tried to hide. it’s like an endless loop of heartbreak and resentment, leaving you wondering if connection is worth the cost.

MESSERCHMIDT IN SCORPIO / 8TH HOUSE this is shadow work that never ends. it pulls you into the depths of your own darkness, stripping you of illusions and tearing apart your defenses. intimacy and trust? twisted into something unrecognizable. you’ll face betrayal, trauma, and loss on levels that go beyond the ordinary, as messerschmidt pushes you to confront every fear, every raw nerve. it’s a constant death and rebirth that leaves you wondering if there’s anything left to salvage.

MESSERCHMIDT IN SAGITTARIUS / 9TH HOUSE faith, ideals, beliefs—all fall under the blade here. it tears down your philosophies, leaving you stranded in the ruins of your convictions. what you thought was solid gets shattered, pushing you into existential crisis after existential crisis. travel, knowledge, growth—everything leaves you feeling more lost, more disillusioned. it’s an endless search for meaning that’s stripped of any comforting lies, forcing you to face a void of your own making.

MESSERCHMIDT IN CAPRICORN / 10TH HOUSE the grind never ends. messerschmidt shreds your ambitions and leaves you clawing your way up a cliff that keeps crumbling. nothing you build stands. you’re forced to witness the collapse of everything you’ve sacrificed for—career, reputation, self-respect—all reduced to rubble. this isn’t a test of resilience; it’s a punishment for ever wanting power or respect. you’re pushed to rebuild, only for it all to fall apart again, leaving you questioning the worth of any success.

MESSERCHMIDT IN AQUARIUS / 11TH HOUSE friendships are where messerschmidt strikes hardest, pulling people close only to throw them into betrayal or abandonment. there’s a brutal edge to your social life—you attract people who tear you down, backstab you, or leave when you’re most vulnerable. dreams and ideals get ripped to shreds as reality refuses to meet your expectations. it’s loneliness, over and over, as every attempt to connect seems cursed, leaving you questioning if you even belong anywhere.

MESSERCHMIDT IN PISCES / 12TH HOUSE messerschmidt here is the ultimate isolation. the subconscious becomes a hellscape where unresolved trauma festers. self-sabotage is constant, and there’s no escape from the memories and fears that haunt you. you’ll be pulled into dark places, stuck in cycles of self-destruction, as you confront every unresolved piece of yourself in brutal clarity. mental health spirals, leaving you feeling like an outcast in your own mind. every shadow you’ve hidden from drags you down, and there’s no running from it.

★ THANK YOU FOR READING! ★

[hoshifighting]

Hi, I don't know if you'll feel comfortable with this request... but, you could do the SVT reaction with you suggesting to try Pegging.

seventeen being pegged WARNINGS: smut, anal, sex toys (strap), lub, handjob, mentions of prostate. (hyung line - maknae line)

seungcheol looks at you like you’ve just suggested the wildest thing, which, let’s be real, you have. he is surprised by how curious he feels. “you wanna…?” his voice trails off, but the way his eyes darken, you know he’s already imagining it. he’s in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching as you prepare. “you sure you’re ready for this?” you ask, teasing him with a smirk. he nods, a little more eager than he’d care to admit. he likes the idea of you taking your time, using your fingers first, slowly working him open. the first finger feels strange, but not bad—just different. “go slow,” he mutters, his voice whiny, and you do, curling your finger, hitting that spot that makes his whole body jerk, he lets out a desperate moan, high and helpless, before gasping, “fuck, do it again.” and when you do, it’s game over for him.

jeonghan laughs when you bring it up, but there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s more intrigued than he lets on. “you wanna peg me? bold of you,” he teases, but he’s already lying back on the couch, letting you take control. he likes the idea of it being playful, almost like a game. likes build-up, so when you start with your fingers, he’s arching into your touch, biting his lip to keep from moaning too loud. “fuck, that’s nice,” he murmurs, rolling his eyes. when you finally slide the toy in, he’s a moaning mess, his head thrown back, eyes half-closed as he revels in the sensation. he likes it when you move it slowly at first, letting him get used to the stretch, but it’s not long before he’s whining for more. “faster, babe, f-faster, please!” his voice laced with that lazy drawl he gets when he’s turned on. when you finally find that spot, his eyes widen, and he gasps, his legs trembling. he doesn’t come right away, though. he wants you to keep going. his hand sliding down to stroke himself as you fuck him.

joshua blushes at the suggestion, his mind racing, but he’s too polite to say no. “you think i’d like it?” he asks, voice soft. he’d want everything to be perfect, from the way you prep him with careful, loving attention, to the way you slide the toy into him. he’s sensitive, every touch making him whimper, his body tensing as you work the toy inside him. when you finally pick up the pace, his moans are soft, almost shy, but when you hit his prostate, his voice cracks, and he lets out a high-pitched whine. “please, don’t stop,” he begs, his hands clutching at your hips to make him cum—just like you do with him.

jun grins “you know, i’ve always been curious about that…” he says. he craves the feeling of you working him open with your fingers, the way your touch makes all of his barriers pulverize. when you finally push inside him, he wants it to be deep, deep, the kind of thrusts that leave him breathless, his body arching off the bed. he wants to hear you moan instead, to feel your hands gripping his hips, pulling him back onto your strap. and when he’s close, he wants you to go faster, your movements becoming more erratic, until he’s crying out your name.

hoshi bites his lip, smiling like a little whore, almost bouncing on the spot. “you’re really gonna do that to me?” he wants you to take control, to be rough with him. he imagines you pushing him onto all fours, spreading lube over his hole before slipping a finger inside, then two, getting him ready for you. when you finally push inside him, he wants it hard and fast, he wants to hear the slap of your skin against his, feel the way you try to fuck him in the same way he fucks you. and when he’s on the edge, he wants you to reach around, jerking him off in time with your thrusts—his cock wet, leaking like a water tap.

wonwoo never thought he’d be into this, but the way you suggest it, all soft whispers and teasing touches, has him rethinking everything. “pegging babe? really?” he murmurs, voice rough around the edges. his mind races, picturing how it’d go down. he’s got the lube ready, slicking it up generously before he braces himself on all fours. “fuck, babe… slow at first, then wreck me.” he craves the stretch, the slow, steady rhythm building until he’s begging for more, until you’re slamming into him with a pace that has him biting down on the pillow to muffle his moans.

woozi sits up, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to play it cool, but the thought of you taking control like that? fuck... “but babe what if i—” he trails off, when he sees, you are prepping him slowly, teasing him with your fingers first, getting him all worked up before you even grab the toy. he craves that stretch, the burn of something new, but when he’s ready, he’ll need you to take charge. he wants you to fuck him hard, deep, like you are fucking the stress and all of his doubts out of him, he smiles a bit when he notices the same pattern he fucks you in—and probably how good he fucks you. and when he’s close, he wants your hand around his cock, jerking him off, hand tight around his pink leaking cock, until he cums, his hole clenching around the toy.

[jburrgf]

DAYTONA

“When the smoke in the air rolls like a wave it reminds me of that ocean view, and I swear that I won’t, but when it gets cold I think of Daytona and I think about you.”

pairing: hs reader/fan reader! x ahs joe!/bengals joe!

summary: summer love, high school love, one night stand, reuning after a long time, fan x famous player.

description: you went to bengals game at miami with your father, and find out on the same night that you’re staying at the same hotel as joe burrow: your one night stand crush from when you were 17.

The day of the game was something out of a dream for my dad. It wasn’t just any game—it was the Bengals against the Dolphins, and Joe Burrow was leading Cincinnati’s offense.

 My dad had been a die-hard Bengals fan for as long as I could remember. We’d spent countless Sundays in front of the TV, analyzing every play, cheering, and sometimes throwing pillows at the screen when the game didn’t go our way.

Today, though, the energy was different. The Hard Rock Stadium buzzed with excitement as the teams took the field. We’d arrived early, walking into the stadium with our jerseys on, my dad proudly wearing his Burrow jersey. I’d gone for something a little more neutral—after all, I didn’t have the same emotional investment in the Bengals, but I loved being here with him.

The first quarter passed in a blur. My dad was on the edge of his seat, muttering under his breath every time the Dolphins defense pressed Joe. "Come on, Joe, you’ve got this," he grumbled, his eyes glued to the field. I always thought that was funny. My dad is a born and raised 70’s type of guy from Miami, and still, he always cheered for the Bengals. My mom, born and raised in Tennessee, got the same taste as my father when they married almost thirty years ago. 

Joe looked calm, focused, his movements deliberate as he assessed the defense before the snap.

I chalked it up to the overwhelming atmosphere of the stadium—the lights, the noise, the fans. Still, I found myself watching Joe closely, like there was something more to it.

When the Bengals scored their first touchdown, the crowd erupted, and my dad leaped to his feet, cheering at the top of his lungs. "That’s my guy!" he shouted, clapping and throwing his arm around me. I laughed, more at his enthusiasm than anything, and joined in the celebration.

By the time the game ended, the Bengals had secured a hard-fought victory, and my dad was beaming. As we made our way out of the stadium, he was already talking about the next game he wanted to attend, but all I could think about was the odd sense of déjà vu that had been nagging at me.

Back at the hotel, my dad was ready to crash for the night, the excitement of the game having worn him out. "You’re not tired?" he asked as I lingered in the doorway.

"Not really. I might head down to the cafeteria, see if I can grab something to eat," I said, my stomach growling at the thought of a late-night snack.

He nodded, already halfway to sleep. "Alright, don’t stay up too late.” I laughed, as I’m still 10 years old.

I slipped out of the room and made my way down the quiet hallway, the cool, sterile air of the hotel soothing after the heat and noise of the stadium. The lobby was nearly empty, the faint hum of the late hour settling over the place. I made my way to the small cafeteria, hoping it was still open this late.

To my relief, the lights were on, and I stepped inside, scanning the shelves for something to eat. I grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water, goind to check out and pay right after, and I turned around to find a place to sit.

And that’s when I saw him.

At first, I didn’t recognize him. He was sitting alone in the corner, his head bent over a cup of coffee. But then, as if sensing my gaze, he looked up. His eyes met mine, and suddenly, it hit me like a wave crashing on the shore.

Joe Burrow.

The realization came slowly, like a puzzle falling into place. I blinked, my mind racing to catch up. Could it really be him? The same guy I’d watched out on the field today? The same guy that my dad loves like his own son?

He stood up, and the casual way he moved, the familiar way he looked at me, made my heart skip a beat. There was no mistaking it now.

"You Still wear that, Y/N?" His voice was soft, as if he wasn’t entirely sure it was me. Why is he calling my name?

I stared at him, stunned. "Joe?" My voice came out in a whisper, like I was afraid saying his name out loud might break the spell. “Wear what?” I shook my head, still trying to make sense of it all. Why is he talking to me like that? He knows me from where? My words felt clumsy, my thoughts still spinning. I hadn’t even realized he’d know who I was. I mean, why would he?

I hesitated for a moment, looking at my clothes. It was the Athens High School sweatshirt that a guy that I met in Daytona gave me once. And then, realization hitted me. Ohio Joe, the shy handsome man that I had the most perfect night ever when I was seventeen years. Joe, Joey, blond hair, blue eyes, shy smile. The same Joe. I crossed the small space between us, still reeling from the shock of seeing him here, of all places, after all these years.

Joe gestured to the seat across from him. "Do you want to sit?"

As we sat there, I couldn’t help but stare at him. He was the same, but different. Older, obviously. More confident. There was something about him now that I hadn’t noticed back then—a calmness, a self-assurance that came with time and experience. But he still had that same smile, the one that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. I just couldn't believe it. Was Ohio Joe an American football player? I watched his game tonight!

I wasn’t sure where to begin, so I settled on the most obvious question. "What are you doing here?"

He chuckled softly, glancing around the empty cafeteria. "Team’s staying at the hotel. You?"

"My dad and I came down for the game. He’s a big Bengals fan."

Joe’s eyes lit up with recognition, and he nodded. "That’s awesome. Did he enjoy the game?"

I smiled. "He loved it. He’s probably already planning the next one."

We fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the air between us thick with unspoken memories. I wasn’t sure if he was thinking about it too—Daytona Beach, the night we met—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was.

And then, as if reading my mind, Joe leaned back in his chair, his eyes searching mine. "Do you remember that night? Daytona Beach?"

My breath caught in my throat. Of course, I remembered. How could I forget? But hearing him say it out loud, acknowledging that night all these years later, felt surreal.

"I do," I said softly, my heart pounding in my chest. "It feels like forever ago."

Daytona Beach, Florida, 10th of May 2014.

It was our high school graduation trip. Daytona was only a couple hours away from where I lived, but it felt like a different world. We had spent all year planning it, dreaming about it—one last hurrah before we all went off in different directions, scattered to the wind. College, jobs, wherever life would take us. 

The first few days had been a blur of beaches, sunburns, and bad decisions, but on the last night, something changed. 

We found ourselves at a crowded beachside bar (that happened to be an alcohol free bar), packed with people our age—locals, tourists, whoever happened to be passing through. That’s where I first saw him. Joe was leaning against the bar, his hair tousled from the salty air, a drink in his hand, looking out over the crowd like he didn’t quite belong there. He was quiet, observant, the kind of guy who didn’t need to be in the center of attention to command it.

He was just another face in a sea of unfamiliar ones. But there was something about him that drew me in, something I couldn’t explain. Before I knew it, I was walking over to him.

"You look like you’re not from around here," I said, my voice raised over the thumping music.

He turned, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I’m not."

"Where’re you from?" I asked, leaning against the bar next to him.

"Ohio. Here for a football convention with my team," he replied, his eyes flicking back to the crowd for a moment before settling on me again. "You?"

"Daytona. I’m local. Well, sort of. Here for graduation week."

He nodded, like he understood what that meant, even though we were from completely different worlds. We talked for a while—about the convention, the beaches, what came next for both of us. Joe told me he was headed to college in a few months to play football. I told him I wasn’t sure what I was going to do yet, but I had a few options. 

There was something easy about talking to him. It wasn’t forced or awkward, like it sometimes was with guys I didn’t know well. Joe had this quiet confidence, like he didn’t need to impress anyone. He was just… himself.

As the night went on, we wandered away from the bar, down toward the beach. The sand was still warm from the day’s heat, and the moonlight glittered off the water as we walked, the waves crashing softly in the distance. 

I don’t know how long we walked before we stopped, standing at the edge of the water, our feet sinking into the wet sand. 

"You ever feel like you’re at the edge of something, but you’re not sure what it is?" I asked, staring out at the horizon.

Joe glanced at me, his eyes thoughtful. "Yeah. All the time."

We were both about to start new chapters of our lives, and the uncertainty of it all hung between us like a cloud. It felt like everything was about to change, and we didn’t know what that would look like.

"Do you ever get scared of what comes next?" I asked, my voice softer now.

Joe shrugged, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his expression. "Sometimes. But I figure you just take it as it comes, you know?"

I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure I knew. I was scared—of college, of leaving home, of everything that came with growing up. But standing there with Joe, it didn’t seem so terrifying. 

“I can’t see my life away from here” I said again, nervously. “I feel like my anchor is here, and that my boat will never sail.”

“Honestly, if I lived in a place like that, I wouldn’t want to leave either.” He responded with a smile. “I mean, I understand you. It's different when you feel lost.”

I looked at the boy, still not understanding. What did he knew about being lost?

“I hear from everyone that I’m not good enough. From everyone you can imagine.” He completes his own thought. “If you’re not your number one follower, no one else will be.”

I nodded, moving closer to Joe, sitting on the sand. The ocean waves were breaking in front of me, the sea was rough in Daytona today. The magnificent sunset was setting right in front of us.

I got up and took a photo of the sun with my cell phone. I let out a smile, and felt the warmth of Joey's body behind me. “Now let me take your pic.”

Before I could even challenge him, the blonde already had his cell phone in his face. I smiled at the small rear camera, adjusting myself for a pose.

“you looked beautiful” He commented, with a shy smile

“My turn to take your picture.”

I practically pushed Joey into the sea, positioning him. Joe was the most handsome guy I've ever seen in my entire life. And when he laughed at the camera, I was more sure that yes, he was beautiful. Lostly beautiful, intellectually beautiful, my kind of beautiful.

"Don't forget to remind me to give you my number." He began to say, putting his cell phone in his pocket. "I wanna all these photos."

I nodded, starting to walk along the beach sand. We were silent for countless minutes, but this wasn't a nightmare. Joe and I were quiet, but our words didn't need to be spoken out loud.

We walked together down the beach, our footsteps quiet in the soft sand. The night was peaceful, the sound of the waves filling the space between us, but I could tell Joe was nervous. Every now and then, he glanced over at me, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.

"So, Ohio, huh?" I broke the silence, nudging him playfully with my shoulder. "What’s it like up there?"

He smiled, looking down at his feet as he walked. "Cold, mostly. It’s not like this."

I laughed softly. "I bet. Daytona’s kind of… the opposite."

Joe chuckled too, but it was quiet, like he was still getting used to talking to me. "Yeah. I guess you’re used to this, though. The beach and all."

"Pretty much," I said, my eyes drifting out toward the water. "But I don’t know… it’s different tonight. Doesn’t feel like home. It feels like something else."

Joe didn’t say anything for a moment, and I thought maybe I’d said something weird. But then he spoke, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "I get that. It’s kinda like… like we’re in a bubble, you know? Like this is a different world for just one night."

I nodded, surprised by how perfectly he’d put it. "Exactly."

He glanced over at me again, his eyes flicking down to the sand before meeting mine. "So, uh… what comes next for you? After this?"

I shrugged. "College, I guess. I’m still figuring it out."

"You nervous about it?" he asked, his tone gentle, like he genuinely wanted to know.

"A little," I admitted. "I mean, it’s a big change, you know? Everything’s about to be different."

Joe nodded, looking thoughtful. "Yeah. It’s scary."

I glanced at him, surprised by his honesty. Most guys would’ve tried to brush it off, act like they had it all together. But not Joe. He was quiet, but he wasn’t afraid to admit when something scared him. I liked that about him.

"You’re going to college to play football, right?" I asked, remembering what he’d told me earlier.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly a little shy about it. "I mean, I hope so. I’ve got a spot, but, you know… you never really know until you’re there."

"You’re gonna be great," I said without even thinking. "I can tell."

He glanced at me, surprised. "You think so?"

"Definitely," I said, smiling at him. "You’ve got that look about you. Like you’re going to do big things."

Joe blushed, looking down at the sand again. "Thanks. That means a lot."

We walked in silence for a little while after that, the weight of the conversation hanging between us. There was something about Joe that made me feel like I could say anything, like he wouldn’t judge me for it. He was quiet, sure, but he was listening. Really listening.

Somehow, we ended up sitting in the sand, the conversation flowing as easily as the waves. We talked about everything and nothing, the kind of deep, late-night conversation that only happens when you know you’ll never see the other person again. There was something liberating about that—knowing that whatever we said, whatever happened, wouldn’t follow us past this night.

It was almost seven when we returned to the bar. Now completely quiet, Joe used all his awkward teenage charm to sneak into the bar’s kitchen. Taking advantage of the moment, I followed him inside.

"I’ve been sneaking into the bar’s kitchen for about three nights now," he explained to me, opening one of the freezers and grabbing a huge tub of ice cream. Joe handed me one of the clean spoons sitting on the counter.

We sat down next to each other on the floor, in front of the freezer.

“Tell me getting to know Daytona has been worth it, please,” I asked, taking a spoon full of ice cream.

“I haven’t seen the whole city yet. But you’re definitely the best tourist spot,” he said with a shy smile, hoping his line had the effect he wanted. “I’m glad I met you,” Joe said sincerely. “I usually get really nervous around beautiful girls.”

“Looking this handsome? Impossible!” I replied.

“Hey, I’m serious. I hardly ever feel comfortable around people my age.”

His hand found mine at that moment. I smiled, looking into his eyes. Joe leaned in close and kissed me. The kiss happened so naturally, I barely realized it was happening until it was too late. One moment, we were sitting side by side, our shoulders brushing against each other. The next, Joe was leaning in, his lips soft against mine, tasting faintly of salt, chocolate ice cream, and whatever drink he’d been sipping on earlier.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The sounds of the waves, the distant music from the bar, everything faded away until it was just the two of us, lost in each other.

Joe's hand found my neck, pulling me closer. One of my hands rested on his leg for support, while our tongues were intertwined—in my mouth, in his, everywhere.

We pulled back when I ran out of breath. Red-faced, hair messy, and completely dazed by what had just happened, I broke away from the kiss with the biggest smile on my face. Joe wasn’t much different from me. Sweaty, his short hair tousled, and grinning widely.

“You taste like tutti-frutti candy,” he remarked. I laughed, giving him a playful slap. “It’s true! I swear!”

Silence settled over us after that. Joe and I sat holding hands, savoring the last bites of ice cream that rested on the bowl on my lap.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he told me, the smile fading from his face. “I think I’ll miss you.”

“You barely know me, Joe,” I said, with a slight pause between his words and mine. Joe pressed his lips together and shrugged.

“I don’t care. I’ll miss you anyway.”

The lights in the bar began to turn off, and that’s when we realized we probably had to head back to the hotel now. We got up from the floor, put away what we’d used, and washed our hands. We left together through the back door of the bar.

“One more thing, before I forget…”

I couldn’t respond, because before I knew it, I was pressed against the back wall of the bar. The alley was dark, damp, and smelled of the sea. But none of that mattered anymore, because I felt Joe’s hands on my waist, pinning me against the wall, all six-foot-three and almost 200 pounds of him right against me, and I had never been so happy.

My fingers threaded through his hair, feeling it prickle my skin in a good way. I smiled, feeling breathless again, but unlike last time, when I pulled away, I leaned back in a few moments later.

I don’t exactly remember when we started walking again, but I know Joe’s hand was in the back pocket of my shorts. I was wearing his gray sweatshirt with “Athens High School” written in dark green.

The walk to my hotel, a cluster of stilted beach houses, wasn’t long. It was a bit farther down the same street. When I reached the little staircase leading to my place, my friends were all sitting on the porch, drinking and chatting.

“Look who’s coming back!” Tracey said.

I flipped her off, then turned to Joey. He was smiling, watching me, and when I looked at him, I blushed completely. How could I like someone this much in such a short time?

“This is for you,” he said, handing me a piece of paper. I looked down, and “Joey B” was written in big letters. It was his phone number.

“Where’s your pen?” I asked, and he pulled out the pen he’d taken from the bar, from his pocket. “Sign my jacket.”

I said, turning my back to him. I felt Joe hesitate a bit before actually doing what I’d asked. His signature was now at my waist level. “It’s because I know you’re going to be famous someday. Then I can say I was your first fan who got an autograph.”

He let out a silly smile, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I will too,” I replied.

The blond leaned closer, left a kiss on my lips along with a smile. He smelled incredible, and my whole body felt numb, and I’d only known this boy for a few hours. How could this be happening?

“See you soon, Ohio Boy.”

“See you in my dreams, Daytona Girl.”

I went up the stairs after saying goodbye to Joe, without looking back. When I got to my friends, he was already gone. I sighed, feeling like a part of me had just walked away too.

Flashback Off.

Back in the present, I sat across from Joe in the quiet hotel cafeteria, the memory of that night hanging between us. He was watching me closely, waiting for me to say something, to acknowledge what we both knew.

"I remember," I said finally, my voice barely more than a whisper. "That night… Daytona Beach. I didn’t recognize you at first."

Joe smiled, but it was softer this time, almost wistful. "I figured you didn’t. It’s been a while."

I nodded, my heart pounding. "Yeah. It has."

We sat in silence for a moment, both of us lost in the memory of that night. It had been just one night—one perfect, fleeting moment in time. But somehow, it felt like more than that. Like it had always been more, even if we hadn’t realized it at the time.

"Why didn’t we keep in touch?" He asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

I looked down to my hands, a shadow passing over my face. "I don’t know. Maybe we thought it was easier that way. One night, no expectations, no strings. I lost your number some weeks after, too. Always scared of finding you again."

He looked down at his hands, his jaw tightening slightly. "I thought about it. A lot, actually. But I didn’t know if… I didn’t want to complicate things."

"Complicate things?" I echoed, frowning.

Joe’s eyes met mine, and I could see the vulnerability in them—the same vulnerability I’d seen that night on the beach. "You were starting a whole new life. I was starting mine. It felt like… maybe it was better to leave it as just that one night. Something simple. Something good."

His words made sense in a way, but they also left me feeling hollow. "Yeah," I said, though my voice was quieter now. "Maybe."

We sat there for a moment, the memory of that night hanging between us. There was no denying the connection we’d had back then, and now, sitting across from him, I felt it again. Stronger, more complicated, but still there.

"Let me give you my number this time." Joe says, and I let it go a smile on my face. Ït is true"

"Do you trust me with your number?" I asked him.

"If you didn't sell my autograph until today, yes, I trust you with my number." He said, alittle smile coming from his mouth.

I smiled at him and handed my phone to him. Joe got his phone number over there, and when he was ready again, I got my phone back. 

“I think it’s better If I get going.” I was the first one to get up from the table. Joe followed me. “I will text you when I wake up tomorrow.”

“Or you can do it today.” He said, simple.

“I'm gonna text you when I wake up tomorrow promise you.” I said. “Hope to see you somewhere else, Joey.”

I hadn’t expected to see him again. After all, it was just one night. He was from Ohio, I was from Daytona, and our lives were about to go in completely different directions, again. I walked down to my room, thinking about what just happened. It's true when people say that you know when you meet the love of your life, cause I felt that way.

I gave a look down to my sweatshirt, seeing the autograph that Joe gave to me years before today. I couldn't believe it. How could I never find that out? His name was literally there, right under my own nose.

i got into my room, and my dad was already sleeping on his twin bed. I left a smile, and went to do my skin care at the bathroom. I couldn't even finish washing my face, because somebody knocked on my door.

A  soft knock on the door.

My heart skipped as I turned, my hand hovering over the handle, not quite daring to believe it. My hand started to spin, and I felt out of breath. I know it as him — I could feel through the doors.

But as I opened the hotel door dragging my whole life on the edges of my hads, I saw him there, again, like a deja-vu.was—standing by the elevators, hands in his pockets again, that same shy look on his face. It was Joey.

"Hey," he said, his voice quiet but steady.

I stopped in my tracks, surprised. "Hey. I didn’t think I’d see you again."

He didn’t say anything at first; he just stepped forward, his presence filling the doorway, his eyes never leaving mine. He looked as if he’d been wrestling with his thoughts, with everything left unsaid between us. And then, without another word, he reached up, gently brushing his hand along my jaw, his touch warm and grounding.

“I couldn’t just let it go again,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Not this time.”

I felt my heart pounding in my chest, and I could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the quiet determination that had brought him here. “Joe…” I began, but he didn’t give me a chance to finish.

In a single, careful movement, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine, soft and tentative at first. But as I melted into the kiss, he pulled me closer, his hands settling on my waist as if he couldn’t bear to let me go. I could feel the years between us dissolving, the unspoken words, the moments we’d lost, all coming together in that one kiss.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine, his breaths shallow, his gaze intense.

“I’m not going to let you go again,” he murmured, his voice raw, like a promise he’d been holding onto for years. “Not this time.”

I felt a shiver run through me at his words, the weight of them settling over us like a vow. All the years, the distance, the almost—they didn’t matter anymore. Right here, right now, it was just us.

I looked at him, feeling a mix of disbelief and relief. It was like all the years of wondering, all the what-ifs, had finally led us to this moment. I didn’t know what would come next, but for the first time, I felt like I didn’t have to have all the answers. All that mattered was that we were here, together.

"Then don’t," I whispered, leaning into him again. "Don’t let me go."

He smiled, his hand cupping my face as he pulled me in for another kiss. And in that moment, I knew that whatever happened, we were finally where we were meant to be.

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 17

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know it's not technically the 17th yet. But I just finished writing this one and I'm really excited for you guys to read it. I also know I have a lot going on tomorrow so not sure when I'll have time to post it, so posting it a little early! This is probably some of the smuttiest smut I've ever written so please let me know what you think as this one was kind of outside of my comfort zone!

PROMPT: "I want you to beg for it."

KINK: Degradation

WARNINGS: 18+ SMUT. MINORS DNI. (Degrading Language (obviously), Oral: Male Receiving, P in V Sex. Semi-Public Sex (Public Bathroom)

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

TAG LIST: See Comments Below

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The Hard Deck was buzzing with energy when you and Jake walked in, the familiar scent of salty ocean air and the hum of the packed bar immediately hitting your senses. It was always busy on a Friday night, but tonight seemed especially crowded. As you scanned the room, your eyes landed on two different bachelor parties gathered at the bar, their laughter loud and the drinks already flowing freely. The air was thick with excitement, and you could feel the playful chaos waiting to unfold.

Jake's hand slid over the small of your back, gently guiding you through the crowd. He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Stay close to me tonight, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low but full of intent.

You glanced up at him, catching that cocky grin that always made your pulse quicken. With the way his hand lingered at your waist, possessive but protective, it was clear he wasn’t in the mood to share your attention with anyone else.

You gave him a small nod, feeling the heat of the crowded room but more focused on the warmth of his presence beside you.

“Promise,” you said with a playful smirk, leaning into his touch just a little more.

Jake’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he led you deeper into the bar, navigating through the sea of people. The bachelor parties already seemed rowdy, but it didn’t matter. You were exactly where you wanted to be—right by Jake’s side, with a night full of flirtation, drinks, and maybe a little trouble ahead.

An hour into the night, you found yourself sipping on your drink, watching as Jake and Rooster engaged in their typical back-and-forth over a game of darts. It was all in good fun, but there was no denying the competitive edge to Jake's demeanor. Rooster came close to a bullseye, and you could almost see the challenge sparking in Jake's eyes as he lined up his next throw. He had to hit a perfect bullseye; anything less wouldn’t do. It was just how he was—always needing to one-up the competition.

With Jake caught up in his game, you decided to wander a bit. You spotted Bob sitting across the room, perched on a stool by the pool tables, nursing a drink. His easygoing demeanor always made for good conversation, and you figured Jake could live without your attention for a few minutes. After all, he seemed pretty absorbed in proving his point to Rooster.

As you made your way across the room, weaving through the crowded bar, you felt Jake’s eyes briefly flicker in your direction, but he didn’t call you back. He could get over it. Bob was a friend, and talking to him was hardly a crime.

“Hey, Bob,” you greeted with a smile, stepping closer to where he sat.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked, his eyes lighting up as you came closer.

The noise of the bar was almost overwhelming, so you leaned in, bringing yourself closer to Bob to hear him better. His voice was low, and the constant chatter and laughter from the bachelor parties made it hard to catch everything he was saying. You had to get even closer when Bob leaned in with a grin, telling you a lighthearted joke that made you laugh.

As you laughed, your eyes unintentionally drifted over to where Jake stood, still holding his dart. You immediately caught his gaze, sharp and narrowed as it honed in on you. There was a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there before, and his grip on his beer bottle tightened as he raised it slowly to his lips. He didn’t look angry, but there was definitely something simmering beneath that cool exterior.

You knew he’d probably have something to say about it later—Jake never missed a thing, especially when it involved you—but it was harmless. You were just chatting with a friend, nothing more.

Still, the way his eyes lingered on you made your heart race, and you had to admit, a small part of you enjoyed knowing he was watching. Let him stew. You were having a perfectly pleasant conversation with Bob, and if Jake wanted to make something of it, that was his problem.

“You okay?” Bob asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You gave him a reassuring smile, brushing off the tension you felt coming from across the room.

“Yeah, just fine,” you replied, but in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder what Jake was thinking—and what he’d say when you inevitably ended up back at his side.

After excusing yourself from your conversation with Bob, you made your way toward the back of The Hard Deck, heading for the bathroom near the kitchen. It wasn’t the one most people used—the sign outside read “Storage,” and only Penny and the regulars knew the truth. You liked it that way; it meant privacy, a quiet moment away from the crowded bar.

Just as you were about to close the door behind you, a hand shot out, stopping it from shutting completely. Your eyes widened as Jake slid into the small bathroom with you, his expression unreadable, but the tension radiating off him was palpable. Without a word, he reached behind him, locking the door with a soft click.

Before you could fully process what was happening, Jake had you spun around, pressing your back firmly against the door. His body crowded yours, and you felt the heat of him as he leaned in close.

His voice was low, almost a growl as he asked, “What were you doing out there, huh? Getting all cozy with Bob?”

Your heart pounded in your chest. You tried to stammer out an explanation, but he wasn’t having it. His eyes bore into yours, the cool green intensity making it clear that he wasn’t in the mood for excuses. The look in his eyes sent a rush of excitement through you, even as you felt the weight of his jealousy pressing in.

“Jake, it was nothing,” you started, but he cut you off, his voice sharp and biting.

“Nothing? You think I didn’t see the way you were leaning into him? Laughing like that?” His words dripped with accusation, and the hint of anger in his tone made your pulse quicken. “Am I not enough for you anymore?”

You shook your head, trying to explain, but he pressed on, his words cutting deeper.

“What, you that desperate for attention? Couldn’t wait a few minutes while I beat Rooster at darts?” His hand slid down to your waist, gripping you firmly as he kept you pinned against the door.

The way he looked at you—like he was ready to stake his claim—made your breath catch. Part of you wanted to push back, tell him he was overreacting, but another part…a darker, more reckless part…was thrilled by the intensity of it all. You could feel the heat rising between the two of you, the air thick with tension.

“Answer me,” he demanded, his grip tightening slightly on your waist, his eyes never leaving yours.

You swallowed hard, the excitement and anticipation swirling inside you. You knew what was coming next—and despite the sharpness of his words, you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at the thought of what was about to happen.

You batted your eyelashes up at him, letting your bottom lip slide between your teeth as you looked through your lashes. The intensity of Jake’s gaze didn’t waver, but you could see the flicker of something darker, something possessive in his eyes. Slowly, you trailed your hand down the front of his shirt, your fingertips brushing against the firm muscles underneath.

“Can I make it up to you?” you asked, your voice soft, with just enough sweetness to cut through the tension.

Jake didn’t answer right away, but the corner of his mouth tugged up in a small, smug grin.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Ask nicely,” he murmured, his tone demanding, but smooth as ever.

Your heart raced at his words, knowing what he wanted, and feeling the power shift between the two of you. You swallowed your pride and looked up at him, your voice a little breathless, laced with submission as you asked, “Please, Jake… can I get on my knees for you?”

For a split second, he didn’t move. The tension hung heavy in the small bathroom, but then, his expression shifted—satisfied, pleased—and he gave a low chuckle.

“Good girl,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across your jaw. “That’s more like it. But let’s hear you ask again, this time even sweeter. I want you to beg for it.”

Your pulse quickened. You could feel the thrill coursing through your veins as you met his eyes, knowing exactly what he wanted from you. Your lips parted, voice trembling with need as you whispered, “Please… please, Jake… I’ll be good, I promise. Let me make it up to you.”

His grin widened as he looked down at you, clearly satisfied with your words. He stepped back slightly, giving you the space you needed, his hand gently guiding you down.

“Go ahead,” he said, his voice a husky drawl. “Let’s see just how nicely you can make it up to me.”

You did as he commanded, sinking slowly to your knees, the cool tile beneath you contrasting with the heat rising between the two of you. Your breath quickened, heart pounding in your chest as you looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with need. Jake's hand found its place at the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair as he guided you down, his grip firm yet possessive, letting you know exactly who was in control.

Your fingers reached for his belt, fumbling only for a second before you quickly undid it, the metal buckle clinking as it came loose. The sound echoed in the small bathroom, and your anticipation grew. With one last glance up at him, you tugged the belt free and began working on the button and zipper of his pants.

Jake's eyes never left you, his lips curling into that signature smirk of his, dark and full of satisfaction. 

"That's it," he drawled, voice thick with desire. "Take your time, sweetheart. We’re in no rush."

You could feel the heat between your legs grow even stronger at his words, the dominance in his voice igniting something in you. But you didn’t want to take your time. You needed this—you needed him.

As soon as his pants were undone, you gently tugged them down just enough, exposing him to your gaze. The sight of him, hard and ready, sent a shiver down your spine, but you maintained eye contact, waiting for his next command.

Jake tilted his head slightly, watching you intently. 

“We both know you know what to do,” he said softly, though the authority in his voice was unmistakable. “Go ahead. Show me what a good little slut you are.”

With his permission, you leaned forward, your lips hovering just above him, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. The anticipation built, the intensity in his stare making you want to please him even more. Slowly, you began, letting your mouth do the talking, determined to show him exactly how sorry you were.

Jake’s hand tightened in your hair, a deep groan escaping his throat as you worked, the control still firmly in his hands as he guided you. His other hand pressed against the door, his body tense with restraint as you gave him everything he wanted and more.

"That's my little slut," he breathed, his voice low and filled with satisfaction. "Just like that."

Just when you felt the tension in Jake’s body tightening, signaling his release was near, he pulled you off him with a rough tug of your hair. A soft gasp escaped your lips as he yanked you to your feet, not giving you a second to regain your breath. His hand gripped your arm firmly as he spun you around, your hips hitting the sink with enough force to send a grunt leaving your body. But at the same time you felt a wave of excitement wash over you.

You barely had time to process the heat between you before Jake pushed you down, placing a hand on your back and bending you over the sink. The cold porcelain pressed against your palms as you caught your reflection in the mirror. His intense gaze met yours, his eyes dark with desire and control. You could see the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, knowing exactly what was coming next—and exactly how much you craved it.

He wasted no time. His large hand slid up your thigh, the roughness of his palm sending shivers across your skin as he lifted your skirt, exposing you to him. You let out a soft whimper as he smoothed his hand over your ass, squeezing firmly before pulling your underwear to the side.

“You think you can get away with it?” Jake growled in your ear, his voice dripping with both frustration and lust. “Getting all cozy with Bob like that, knowing I’m watching? Being a little whore.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a small moan as you felt him press against you, his hard length rubbing between your legs, teasing you.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck as he spoke again. “You’re mine,” he whispered harshly, his hand gripping your hip tightly. “And I’m gonna make sure you remember that.”

With a quick thrust, he was inside you, filling you completely as you gasped at the sudden sensation. Your hands gripped the edge of the sink as Jake set a hard, relentless pace, each thrust pushing you further into the porcelain. The intensity of it made your head spin, his grip on you firm as if he needed to stake his claim in the most primal way.

You could feel the tension between your legs building again, the way he moved inside you pushing you closer to the edge with every stroke. His hand slid up your back, keeping you pressed down against the sink as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Look at yourself," he demanded, his voice rough. "Look at how good that pussy takes me."

Your eyes met his in the mirror, the sight of him behind you only adding to the intensity of the moment. The way his khaki uniform pants still hung low around his hips, the tight muscles of his chest and arms straining as he held you in place—it was enough to drive you over the edge.

Jake's hand slid from your hip to the back of your neck, holding you down as he pounded into you. "You’re gonna remember this next time you think about getting cozy with someone else," he growled, his pace becoming rougher, more demanding.

Jake’s hips keep moving steadily as he grips your waist firmly. You’re getting close, every nerve in your body coiling tighter with each movement, but just as you’re about to hit your peak, Jake's voice rumbles low in your ear.

"You're gonna have to beg for it," he says, his breath hot against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

You do as he says, your voice soft and needy, but Jake doesn't let up. Instead, he smirks and shakes his head, leaning in closer. "You don’t deserve it—not after your little stunt with Bob."

The pace doesn't stop. "Do you like this, huh? Getting fucked right here where anyone could walk in and catch you, bent over, needing me like this? Being my good little slut."

Your body betrays you, every bit of frustration turning into more want. 

Jake reaches up and one hand moves to your hair, grabbing a handful of it before pulling your head back sharply. He brings his lips to your ear and whispers, “not even Baby on Board would want a useless little slut like you. One that can’t even follow such a simple command such as stay close.”

You’re moaning his name at this point, your knuckles white from gripping the edges of the sink.

“Look at how good you take my cock. So good, baby. Just like the dirty little slut you are.”

Moments later you feel his grip on your waist tighten and his hips still as he releases his load inside you. 

“You like that, huh? You like being filled with my cum like a little slut? I want you to keep it there. I want it dripping down your thighs so every guy in this bar knows what you are.”

You’re panting and your release isn’t far off. You start moving your hips back against his, trying to close that last little bit to bring yourself to the edge.

But just when you think you might break, Jake pulls away, stopping all movement completely. He lets you linger there, your breath still ragged, the tension still crackling in the air. He doesn't say a word at first, just letting the silence speak volumes.

Then, with that same cocky smirk, he steps back and adjusts his uniform as if nothing had happened. He quickly zips and buttons his pants before buckling his belt. He glances 

"Maybe next time, sweetheart," he says, voice dripping with confidence.

He lingers by the sink for a moment, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it down to make sure it’s still perfectly in place as if to remind you how unfazed he is by the whole thing that just happened.

Satisfied with how he looks, he turns to you. "Pull yourself together before you come join me," he adds with a smirk, unlocking the door. 

With one last glance over his shoulder, Jake steps out into the bustling bar, leaving you to collect yourself in the quiet, the adrenaline still surging through your veins.

You splash cold water on your face, feeling the coolness soothe your flushed skin. You take a deep breath, adjusting your dress in the mirror, running your hands over the fabric to smooth out any signs of what just happened. With one final glance in the mirror, you do your best to compose yourself before heading out.

As you step back into the bar, the crowd feels a little more overwhelming than before, but you spot Jake near the pool tables talking to Phoenix and Rooster. The familiar sound of laughter from their banter draws you in as you make your way through the crowd toward him.

The moment Jake sees you, his entire expression softens. That cocky grin he usually wears shifts into something warmer, and without hesitation, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. His arm slides comfortably around your waist, pulling you close to him as if nothing else in the bar matters.

"Hey, baby" he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and affectionate. It’s a stark contrast from the intense energy in the bathroom, and the warmth in his tone settles any lingering tension.

As the pool game continues between him and Rooster, Jake stays close. Between turns, his hand is always on you—sometimes resting gently on your lower back, sometimes tracing soft circles on your side, just a quiet reminder that he's there, grounding you. Every now and then, he leans in to check on you, his gaze soft as he asks if you’re okay, but with just enough subtlety that it doesn’t draw attention.

It’s in these small moments that you feel the balance. The intensity from earlier has given way to something more tender, and with every touch, you’re reminded that Jake isn’t just about the bravado—he knows how to take care of you, even in the smallest ways.