#don’t strip him of the things that make him interesting
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hello :D
i have a request for a dottore x reader fluff/angst, i hope the idea sounds interesting 😅
what if the reader suddenly finds dottore in a horrible mood, except he’s not angry or anything, just really down :(
and the reader tries their best to comfort him but he just won’t verbally respond to them until the reader says something that really hits his heart, then he actually starts opening up 💜
i really like this concept bc there’s not enough people who write abt dottore being upset or sad, maybe bc it conflicts with his character a lot but i feel like he has so much emotional baggage throughout the years. it has to catch up to him eventually 😥
thank you 🫶
HAII FIRST REQUESTS EVER! yes of course i can give you some dottie angst… i lov him so much
dottore x reader — cracks in the mask
pairing: dottore x reader
genre: fluff/angst
warnings: none
word count: ~1.2k
the laboratory was unnervingly quiet that evening.
typically, there was always something to fill the silence— the hum of his machinery, the scratch of a pen, any of the clones babbling on about their experiments. however today, the near silence was suffocating.
at the center of it was dottore.
you found him at his desk, unmoving, hunched forward with one gloved hand resting against his temple. his bird-like mask sat to the side, revealing his sharp features, usually so animated with concentration or delight, now replaced with something disturbingly close to exhaustion.
that alone was enough to make your stomach twist.
“dottore?” you approached carefully, unsure of what state he was in. he was an unpredictable man— one wrong move could easily cause him to have an outburst. “i brought you something to eat. you haven’t left your lab all day.”
silence.
you stepped closer, setting a plate of fatteh down on the desk beside a stack of notes. he didn’t even glance at it. his sharp crimson eyes were unfocused, staring blankly at the paper before him, though it was clear he wasn’t really seeing it— he was looking past it.
that was when you noticed how tense he was—his fingers curled slightly as if suppressing a twitch, his breaths slow but shallow.
something was wrong.
“…did something happen?” you asked softly.
still, no response.
your concern deepened. dottore was never quiet. he always had something to say, whether it was mocking, taunting, or spiraling into a monologue about his latest discoveries or newfound interest. but now, he seemed to be locked in some internal battle, his usual arrogance stripped away.
you reached out, hesitating for only a moment before placing your hand over his gloved one. “zandik,” you said softly, calling him by his real name— the name he let only you use.
that finally got a reaction, though it was slight. his fingers just barely twitched beneath yours, but he still didn’t look at you.
you swallowed. “please… please talk to me.”
not a word.
worry twisted into frustration. you had seen dottore in many different states— enraged, ecstatic, amused, even mildly— mildly tender. but this was different. this didn’t just seem like the aftermath of an experiment failure, or a setback in his research. this was heaviness. a weight pressing him down, pushing him into something that even his fiery ambition couldn’t pull him out of.
and you didn’t know how to fix it.
“i hate seeing you like this,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “i know you don’t like talking about things that bother you. i know you think it’s weak or useless. but you’re human, zandik. no matter how much you pretend you aren’t. you’re not one of your machines,”
a flicker of something subtle crossed his face.
more desperate for anything, you continued. “you carry so much. too much. and i know you— if something is weighing on you this badly, it’s not just some minor inconvenience. so please, just—” you exhaled shakily, trying to calm yourself. “just let me in.”
for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer.
then, finally, quietly— so quietly you almost missed it— he spoke.
“…do you ever wonder,” he started, his voice hardly above a mumble, “if everything you’ve done has been worth it?”
the question caught you off guard.
your fingers tightened slightly around his, his words making your heart ache. “what do you mean?”
he took a slow breath, his hand shifted beneath yours, but didn’t pull away. “i have spent my entire life pursuing knowledge. progress. evolution. a way to enhance the human race. i have been chased out of my home town, and expelled from the akademiya. i have torn apart the weak, the feeble-minded, and discarded the useless in the name of something greater. my vision of the future.” His voice remained eerily calm, but there was something brittle beneath it.
his gaze finally lifted to meet yours. “…but does any of it matter?”
you sucked in a breath.
dottore was not a man who dealt with regrets. he prided himself on his ambition, his dedication, his refusal to be weighed down by something as trivial as morality. but there was something deeply, achingly tired in his eyes now— an exhaustion that went beyond sleepless nights and endless research.
this was the weight of years. of choices made and paths walked that could never be undone.
your heart ached for him, your stomach twisting.
“you’ve given up so much,” you said carefully, “but that doesn’t mean it was all for nothing.”
he let out a quiet, humorless chuckle. “hasn’t it?”
“no.” You squeezed his hand. “because if it were, you wouldn’t be questioning it now.”
that seemed to strike something in him. his lips parted slightly, as if to argue, but no words came. he simply looked at you, unguarded, disturbed in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.
you continued, voice gentler now. “you always act like you don’t care. as if the past doesn’t affect you. but you do care, zandik. maybe not in the way others do, but you wouldn’t be asking this if you didn’t.”
his fingers curled around yours, grip tightening ever so slightly.
the silence stretched between you, but this time, it wasn’t cold or distant. It was understanding.
“…you are a curious creature,” he finally muttered, shaking his head. “always saying things that even i cannot refute.”
you smiled faintly. “because i know you better than you’d like to admit.”
his hard gaze softened just a fraction. then, to your quiet relief, he exhaled— long and slow, as if finally releasing some of the weight crushing his chest.
“…stay,” he murmured. it wasn’t as harsh as a command, nor was it his usual smug expectation that you would obey him without question. it was something much quieter. much more vulnerable.
a request.
you lifted his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “always.”
and for the first time that night, dottore let himself relax.
#genshin impact x reader#dottore x reader#zandik x reader#fluff#angst with a happy ending#light angst
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MESSY
Author's Note: The character Michael does not belong to me, but to the film Hoard (2023). There won't be a summary at this time because I'm unsure if the fanfic will continue. So, if you enjoy this preview, please comment and like. Engage! Thank you for your attention.
PREVIEW
There is a growing desperation within you. Just a few weeks ago, you would never have imagined yourself in this position, but you have run out of options. Your father took a new wife mere months after your mother’s passing, and she had no interest in playing the role of a stepmother. So, he cast you out, leaving you with nowhere to go. "It’s my house," were the last words you heard before being thrown onto the street as if you meant nothing.
Now, you are about to knock on the door of a man named Michael, who is looking for a roommate. He could very well be a lunatic, living in a house that, from what you can tell, is surrounded by garbage and rats. That is not an exaggeration—there is a massive mouse scurrying into the alley beside the house, carrying something in its mouth. But even that won’t stop you from taking what little savings you have and paying to live here.
"Hello?" The man you assume to be Michael opens the door just as you knock, catching you off guard, and you nearly stumble backward. Fortunately, he notices and grabs your hand to steady you. He’s sweaty, and you almost slip from his grip.
"Oh my God, is that a puddle of water?" you ask, realizing your body has lightly brushed against something wet in front of his house.
"Hate to break it to you, but we haven’t had any rain, so it’s probably…" he says casually, implying that whatever you touched wasn’t water, sending a shiver down your spine.
"Great. Now I need a shower," you mutter, straightening up and resisting the urge to strip off your clothes right then and there.
"Did you come here just to ask for a shower?" he asks, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it in front of you. Great. A smoker.
"Who in their right mind would show up at a stranger’s house in the middle of the afternoon just to ask for a shower?" you ask, still debating whether this is worth it. Every instinct is telling you to turn around and leave, but then reality hits—you can’t afford to be picky. The rent is cheap, and, more importantly, you have nowhere else to go.
"I’m actually here about the roommate ad." Michael tilts his head slightly, dragging his gaze over you as if trying to read your entire life story.
"You don’t seem like the kind of person who’d want to live in a place like this—no offense," he says, exhaling smoke through his nose. You hold back the urge to roll your eyes, biting down your irritation.
"When you have no other choice, you can live anywhere. The important thing here is that you have something I need, and I have money to pay for it," you say, stepping closer despite the heavy scent of smoke clinging to him. Michael takes another drag of his cigarette before smirking.
"The way you’re saying that makes it sound like you’re offering me money for something else," he muses, amusement flickering in his eyes. He steps toward you, finishing his cigarette and flicking it to the ground, crushing it under his boot. You scoff, letting out a dry laugh. His self-confidence is astonishing.
"And what exactly do you think I’d be paying you for, other than a place to live?" you counter, keeping your expression unreadable. His smirk deepens. "Come upstairs, and I’ll show you."
The way his brown eyes stay locked on you sends a wave of heat through your body—not from attraction, but from the sheer audacity of his words. He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. That’s it.
"I knew this was a mistake," you mutter, grabbing your suitcase and turning to leave. You don't even make it two steps before strong arms lift you off the ground, catching you completely off guard.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" you shout, squirming in his hold, but he doesn’t let go. He’s stronger than he looks, his grip firm yet effortless.
"There are plenty of things wrong with me. It’s my job to keep them hidden from you, and yours to find them out on your own. Now stop squirming—I’ll let you go in a second," he mutters, his voice strained as he maneuvers you into the house with unsettling ease.
You barely have time to process what just happened before your eyes sweep over the interior. A narrow staircase leads to the upper floor, while to the side, the living room sprawls in cluttered disarray. At the back of the house, you spot the kitchen. The air carries a faint, unpleasant odor, and you do your best not to react too strongly as you take in the mess. Michael walks in behind you, dragging your suitcase inside before straightening up.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot. Name’s Michael. I really do need someone to help with the expenses, so it’d be an honor to have you here. There are two bedrooms upstairs, along with the bathroom, which we’ll have to share. Kitchen’s straight ahead. Turn to the side, and you’ll find the living room. Rent’s due at the beginning of every month, and while I’ll try to be the best roommate I can, don’t expect me to change who I am," he says, extending a hand as if sealing an agreement. You hesitate, every part of you still screaming to leave, but the reality of your situation weighs heavier. You have nowhere else to go.
"Fine. I’ll stay. I’ll pay the rent on time, but you should know that I won’t change either. And I refuse to live in a dump," you say, watching as he pulls out yet another cigarette and lights it right in front of you.
Michael smirks, tucking the cigarette between his lips. "Do whatever you want, princess. Cleaning supplies should be around here somewhere. Officially, mi casa es su casa," he says, blowing out smoke as he steps closer, slow and deliberate. You stand your ground, refusing to be intimidated.
"I have somewhere to be, but when I get back, we can talk more. There’s a spare key on the hook behind the door. Since you’re so keen on cleanliness, I’d suggest you start with that shower," he adds with a smirk before giving you a wink and disappearing out the door, leaving you alone in the middle of the mess.
#michael hoard#joseph quinn hoard#hoard film#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn character#joseph quinn x you#michael x reader#michael x you#joseph quinn x y/n#Spotify
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Nooo cuz y’all don’t get ittt, Regulus wanted to be a death eater, no one forced him, he worshipped Voldemort, he was a goddamn fanatic, not even his parents wanted to be death eaters, that’s why he felt so betrayed when he found out Voldemort was ‘cheating’ and that’s why he went against him and that’s what makes him interesting
#I’m so tired of the uwu poor regulus was forced to be a death eater#like you’ve got an interesting character here#don’t strip him of the things that make him interesting#if he was forced to be a death eater he’d be like fifty times more boring than he already is#like please let him keep this one interesting thing about him#fuck#regulus black#regulus#hp books#Harry Potter#r.a.b#death eaters
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I love that the bg3 guys are all written to have this intense adoration of karlach and lae’zel’s abilities to absolutely eviscerate their enemies. they’ve all got the same taste in women, which is “she could gut the big scary man chasing me, and then princess carry me to safety in her blood spattered arms.” and I respect and relate to that, as a bisexual man myself.
#bg3#thoughts about media#I actually love all combinations between any of the guys and lae or karlach. all very good pairings.#honestly hard to choose a fave... but I do quite like wyll & lae and star & karlach.#idk. something about a guy exiled by his own father and then alienated by fiend’s blood with a girl entirely outcast by her people.#in both cases they are punished despite doing the right thing all because they questioned someone of a lawful alignment.#and then star and karlach... both stripped of their autonomy and treated as nothing but a means to an end...#and the unique romance cutscenes they can get with each other!! actually so sweet.#but don’t get me wrong. I still do love all the other combos too.#and it goes without saying that lae & karlach is a great pair too. nothing like a warrior’s bond.#meanwhile my approval the m/m ships is...well. limited.#I love wyll & star together. I like gale & wyll. I am okay with halsin & any of the boys...but he has to be written better.#and by better I mean give him a little more character and make it less about sex only. because the game largely reduces him to sex alone.#no shart mention because I never take her anywhere unless I have to.#sorry. I do not hate her but she just isn’t interesting to me.#and although there’s writing to acknowledge shartstarion as a possible pair.#I think it’s the worst companion/companion pair and I refuse to think about it.#I mean seriously. it’s a combination of two polyamorous bisexuals and yet the pair feels heterosexual.#please don’t to that to my darling vampire. let him be princess carried by the hot warrior gals.
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Description: Getting kinky with the windbreaker boys. I have so many thoughts about these men and I just needed to get them out of my system. Characters: Toma Hiragi, Ren Kaji, Haruka Sakura, Hayato Suo, & Yamato Endo. Word Count: 2.2k Tags: fem!reader, brat taming, praise, somnophilia, edging, mommy kink, dacryphilia, consent non consent, choking, degradation, oral (fem!receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk.
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a/n: These are more like thirsts than headcannons but oh well. I might expand on some of these eventually and turn them into full fics if I can sit down and commit to it. It the mental illness, innit? Regardless, I hope you enjoyed these little blurbs! Special shout out to @foxyfiction & @to-eden for helping me with the prompts for some of these, you both are amazing. <3
I also have a masterlist now, if you’re interested that could be found : HERE
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Brat Taming
Hiragi had enough of you today, your skirt pulled up high, a constant switch in your hips while on patrol today with the Tamon team. Constantly teasing him, whether it was pulling him into an alley for an impromptu make out session, bending over in front of him letting him catch a glimpse of your already wet panties, or rubbing against his perpetually hard cock as you “just needed to slip past him real quick”. He was patient, tension building throughout the day coming to a fever pitch when you had both made it back to your shared apartment. He was on you in moments, lifting the back of your skirt to lay a harsh lap to you ass. Grabbing a fistful of your hair as he growls in your ear. “ I want you on that bed and I want you completely bare, do you understand?” He releases you hair, watching as you strip for him, climbing on the bed moments after you do.
Grabbing a hold of your cheeks with a rough hand he forces you to look up at him, eyes glazed over with arousal. Squishing your cheeks he props your mouth open, shoving a long digit past your lips. He grins as your mouth instinctively wraps around the digit, pumping the finger in and out of your lips, eyes rolling back as he feels your tongue wrap around the digit. Sucking his teeth as you shoot him a wink as he stuffs a second digit in your mouth. “Such a fucking brat, you know that?” He forces your thighs apart, free hand punctuating his words with a harsh slap to your dripping cunt.
His fingers sliding down, his fist two digits using your saliva that coated them to rub fast smooth circles against the sensitive bud. “Don’t forget your still getting punished baby.” He tsks giving you a sharp toothed grin. “Look at your pretty cunt, clenching around nothing, poor baby.” He coos, leaning down to your ear, lips grazing the shell to whisper. “You’re going to have to come from just my fingers before you can have my cock baby, think you can do that for me, hmm?”
Praise (Receiving)
Kaji had lost his temper once more, today a fight had broken out. One of the members of the opposing gang had harshly grabbed your arm, tugging you against him spitting extremities about the things he plandded to do to you. The words coupled with the fear in your wide eyes had Kaji seeing red. Completely blacking out in a fit of rage, he hated his, he especially hated you seeing him like this. The few times he had lost his temper in front of you, he ran, unable to face you. But not this time, you wouldn’t let him run from you. Grabbing the sleeve of his jacket you were quick to take him back to your apartment, silencing whatever apologies or exasperations with your lips against his.
Walking him backward toward your bedroom you wait for the back of his knees to hit the mattress. Pushing him to sit down as you climb on his lap. Mouths entangling in a heated embrace, clothes being pulled from each others bodies in a rush of passsion. Kaji trails kisses down your exposed body, lips wrapping arount a perked bud taking your nipple into his mouth. You rocked your hips against his, gronaing into the air. Your hands unfaten his pants, and with his help you pull his cock from his pants. You give him a smile, stroking his cheeks, eyes soft with fondness. “You're such a good boy Ren, always so good to me.”
You coo, the praise falling from your lips as you place one more kiss to his lips. Moving to grab him by the base, positioning him at your entrance, the desperate look in his eyes is all the confirmation you need to sink down on his length. You bite your lip, letting out a whimper at the feeling of his thick cock filling you to the brim. You tangle one hand in his hair, pulling lightly on his blonde strands, while the other moves up to his shoulder, nails digging into the skin. Pulling away only far enough to mumble into his lips. “Fuck, Ren.. Feel so good, you fill me up so good baby. I love you so much.”
Somnophillia
You wake feeling something warm between your legs. It isn’t long before your head is thrown back against the pillows you were once sleeping soundly against, voice crying out in pleasure as your boyfriend’s tongue draws slow patterns on your sensitive clit. You look down at him eyes lidded with sleep and now lust. “Haru.. what are you doing?” You mumble, blinking the sleep from your eyes. Between your thighs you can feel his cheeks heat up, a feirce blush on his features. He barely pulls from your cunt, mumbling against your center. “Couldn’t sleep, needed to taste you, ‘m want you so bad.”
He groans, hips rutting into the mattress, desperate for some friction to his aching cock. Any further arguments are silenced by a loud moan erupting from your lips, Sakura licks a fat stripe up your clit brfore reattaching his lips fully to your nub. He eats your cunt with such desperation, as if he needed to conume you to keep air in his lungs. His tongue is soon replaced by the rough pad of his thumb, head ducking lower to slide his tongue inside of your entrance, sliding against the silk walls of your pussy. He groans deep in his throat, the vibrations of the noise only enhancing the pleasure you’re feeling. ”Always taste so fucking good, need more..” He groans, pulling from your center, he slides up your body lips attacking yours with reckless hunger. He slid the material of his boxers down in one swift motion, grabbing himself by the base of his cock, collecting your wetness on the tip of his cock using it to ease himself inside your velvety walls.
He lets out a loud groan as he fully sheaths his cock inside you, head dipping to capture your lips with his own. The kiss is immediately laced with hunger, teeth clashing and tongues dancing in each others mouths. He pulls away, heavy breaths fanning against your lips as he sets a harsh steady pace from the start. “Fuck baby… can’t even sleep without you consuming my thoughts. Need you desperately… constantly.. feel like I’ll lose it if I’m not inside of you.”
Edging/Mommy Kink
You place a delicate kiss to his lips, trailing your kisses down his body until you were situated between his thighs. Looking up at him with hooded eyes from your current position. “You weren't lying baby boy. Look at how hard you are.” You grin, not letting him answer as you gave a few experimental tugs to his cock. Leaning up to lick a fat stripe from his base to his tip, collecting the pre come that had been steadily dripping since you had begun. Pulling away and leaning up once again, you grab his face in your hand, forcing his mouth open before letting your saliva mixed with his precum drip from your mouth to his. Placing a hand over his mouth, you lean down to his ear. “Swallow baby, I want you to taste us.”
You take his shock as an opportunity to lower yourself back down between his legs, swirling your tongue around his sensitive mushroom tip, taking as much as your throat would allow, hollowing your cheeks. Beginning to bob your head up and down on his cock. Choji tugged at the cloth around his wrists, restraining himself as much as he could to not buck his hips. Failing miserably as his body writhed under yours He cried out as he felt your warm mouth around his cock, tears collecting by the corners of his eyes. Whimpers and cries falling from his lips as he found every ounce of restraint to not let his body betray him. The could in his stomach building once more for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening. He didn’t want to fuck all of this up and receive punishment even further. “Mommy, please your mouth is so warm… be careful. I dont wanna come.. too soon.”
You grin around him, looking up at him through your lashes, nearly removing yourself from him before plunging back down, taking him until you feel him hit the back of your throat. You do this a few more times before pulling yourself off his cock with a 'pop'. You make your way up his body, getting impatient yourself, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. Straddling his abdomen, right above where he needed you most, pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Desperately trying not to show that you were just as affected by your actions. You grab a fistful of his hair, tugging harshly, effectively separating your lips as you speak against his lips. “Tell mommy what you want baby boy. Go on, use your words I want to hear you.”
Dacryphillia
Each one of your pleas fog his mind with uncontrollable lust. Wram brown irises drowning in it. “So desperate for me already, darling, we havent even begun the main event.” He teases, directly into your ear, as he finally lines the tip of his thick cock with your entrance. Suo had been teasing you for what seemed like hours. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from your overstimulated cunt. Having made you come undone on his fingers and tongue several times, your pussy having felt desperatly empty without his cock filling you. He grins as you whine, his head just barely probing your entrance. “Please, Haya.” You whimper desperate for him to do something, anything, tears blurring your vision as they collected at your lashline.
“Please?” He tiles his head in mocking obliviousness. “Please what princess? Gotta tell me what to do or I cant help you, tell me what is it that you want?” He coos, free hand sliding up your stomach, thumb circling a pert nipple. Grinning he leans down tugging on your earlobe with this teeth, breaths fanning against your ear as he continues to speak. “Want me to fill this pretty pussy up with my cock? Feeling you flutter against me, whimpering out my name from those beautiful lips. Is that what youre asking for my pretty little bunny?”
He grins eyes lithe with mischief as you continue to babble, words coming out in a jumbled mess of pleas and calls of his name. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, desperation for him consuming your entire being. Suo’s hand coming up to caress your cheek. Thumb swiping at the tears that cascaded down your face. “Oh, sweet baby” He purrs, slipping the same thumb past your lips, letting you taste the salty wetness of your tears. “Crying for me already? We’ve barely even started.” He giggles, hips lurching forward, slamming into you to the hilt with one swift movement of his hips. Groaning as your back arches from the bed, eyes rolling back with a scream of his name being forced from your lips. “As much as I’d love to hear you beg for it, ive been waiting for too long for you my princess.~”
Cat and Mouse/CNC
Your breaths come out in heavy pants, your heart racing in your chest, your feet slamming against the grassy terrain as you run as fast as your legs can carry you. The shadow of the figure on your tail looming behind you. You pushed further, weaving in and out of trees to shake your assailant. The dark wooded area was easy to get lost in. You had only paused your running for a moment, attempting to take in your soundings, looking for a route to escape. Attempting to catch your breath, you were sure you had lost him. Just as you were about to turn on your heel and take off once more your eyes shoot wide, feeling fingers of a large hand wrap themselves around your throat. Your attacker using their grip as leverage to shove you roughly against a tree, the larger figure looms over yours. Tattooed fingers squeezing just enough to make gaining air flow a bit difficult. Lips grazing your ear as he leans down to your height. “Gotcha~”
Endo’s piercing blue eyes lock with yours, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. Tongue invading your mouth, free hand coming up to cup your dripping cunt. Fingers circling your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. He smirks against your lips as you moan into his mouth. Pulling from you, he quickly removes your soiled panties, running his finger between your soaked slit. Bringing his finger to his lips taking in the way you taste, moaning around his fingers.
“Fuck doll, you taste so fucking good. Already so fucking wet for me.” He uses his thumb to force your mouth open, spitting a glob of saliva between your parted lips. “Go on babydoll, taste yourself.” He chuckles as you instinctively swallow, turning you in his embrace so your bent over. Flipping up your skirt, he leans back to take all of you in, eyes hungrily wracking over your exposed sex. Parting your folds with a thumb, watching as your entrance contracts around nothing a large grin splits across his face as he lands a harsh slap against your ass. “Gotta remind you who this belongs too huh? This cunt is mine princess.”
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Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I already have a part two in mind for this, so keep an eye out. Until then, see you later!
#windbreaker smut#wind breaker x reader#windbreaker x reader#haruka sakura x reader#sakura haruka x reader#haruka sakura smut#sakura thirst#ren kaji smut#kaji ren x reader#ren kaji x reader#kaji x reader#suou x reader#suo smut#suo x reader#hayato suo smut#hayato suou x reader#suo hayato x reader#tomiyama choji x reader#choji x reader#choji tomiyama x reader#toma hiragi smut#hiragi toma x reader#toma hiragi x reader#hiragi smut#hiragi x reader#yamato endo x reader#endo x reader#yamato endo smut#wind breaker#sam writes
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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. toji cannot wait to break in his virgin girlfriend—though until then, he’ll settle for simply teasing you until you’re a trembling mess.
tags. toji fushiguro x virgin!female reader. smut, pwp. age gap (reader early 20’s, toji early 30’s). corruption kink. dry humping? cum play. size difference. reader gets called ‘princess, doll’ queued
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toji loves to tease you—you know that very well. he thrives off your reactions to his dirty words, the subtle yet naughty touches that he sneaks in during conversations, the seductive glint in his half lidded eyes whenever you’re around . . he knows what he’s doing.
even more so when you’re in his bed at night. you usually cuddle, sometimes make out and grind against each other, but nothing too lewd yet. toji doesn’t mind waiting to get a taste of you. he knows it will be worth the wait at the end.
but oh—is it difficult. so, so difficult. especially when you allow him access to more parts of your body.
“shit, princess,” he pants, hissing a bit when the mushroom tip of his cock bumps against your clothed clit, “y’re gettin’ so wet, huh? just by looking at my cock ‘n feeling it rub against your pussy.”
your cotton panties surely are damp with arousal; from both toji and you. his pre-cum mixes with your juices, ruining your favorite pair of panties. the wet spot forming near your slit only gets darker and darker the more you allow toji to rub his dick back and forth over your cunt.
“mngh—fuck. need you,” you whine, unable to fight the urge to buck your hips against his fat cock. your eyes dart up to your boyfriend to express your neediness, but he grabs your nape and guides your gaze back to his red tip pushing against your sloppy underwear.
toji lets out a dry chuckle. “i know y’ do. y’r pussy told me that long time ago,” he comments while he watches your adorable reactions to him pushing and pulling his cock from your clothed pussy. he’s only interested in you—the way your eyes glisten with tears and pleasure.
if it isn’t for his self control, he would have fucked you by now. but he’ll patiently wait until the perfect timing to push through that invisible wall, to pop your cherry while he looks you in the eyes, taking that innocence from you that he oh-so loves.
“want my cock, doll?” toji asks with a wicked grin. his large hands runs over your chest to your tummy. he guides his shaft over to your belly, measuring how much of your insides it would fill. “mm, yeah—would mess you up pretty bad,” he hums as the tip reaches your belly button. even further than that.
the thought excites the older man. to be your first, the first man who’ll mould your pussy to only fit his cock. no one else will have the honor of stripping you from your virginity.
“want it. want it all the way inside me,” you reply back, voice shaking with excitement. you’re going to cum soon from him simply grinding against your clothed cunt. your poor clit is continuously being circled and bumped against by his tip and it’s driving you crazy.
toji swallows thickly. “don’t ya tempt me like that,” he warns you in a dark tone. he runs a rough finger over your wet panties, keeping your legs spread wide with his knees. he easily finds your little hole as the cotton material sticks to your pussy, showing the outlines of your lips.
“might just push in here. .” toji murmurs as he positions the leaking head of his dick against your covered entrance, “. . and fill you up while hearing you scream my name. sounds good, ay?”
you gasp and feel your cunt clench around nothing. his hips move back and forth, shallow thrusts against the barrier that is your panties, mimicking the real thing. “y-yeah—oh, ‘m g’nna cum,” your heart rate picks up as your back arches off the mattress.
toji raises an eyebrow, secretly finding it endearing how that is the action that pushes you over the edge. you’re so adorable; simply thinking of him actually fucking you senseless and the feeling of his tip seeking your pussy is enough.
“aww, she’s gonna cum,” the dark-haired man snickers after mocking you. toji gauges your reactions and grins when he sees your head rolling back against the pillow.
“do y’ wanna cum together? we can,” he smirks as he leans down to intertwine your hands—playing the role of the gentle boyfriend who’s having sex with his girlfriend for the first time. he’s trying to give you the full experience while not actually giving it to you yet.
“y-yes, wanna cum together,” you nod mindlessly, your mouth feeling dry. you squeeze your eyes shut while also holding tightly onto toji’s hand. your pussy tightens up around air while your hips buck up to meet toji’s thrusts against your covered, wet hole.
“c-close—ngh, toji!” your eyes widen once his tip pressing snugly between your pussy lips. for a second it felt like his cock had successfully breached through your panties. that short-lived moment is enough to push you over the edge and cum on spot.
toji witnesses the bliss in your facial expression and he groans. “fuckkk—take it. g’nna cum all over ya princess,” he presses his hips firmly against yours, his full length resting right between your wet folds, ropes of cum spurting out of his aching tip.
you feel the sticky liquid stain your belly, running down to the waistband of your panties and even staining the front part. your choked up moans are music to your boyfriend’s ears while he calms down from his own orgasm.
his big biceps tremble as he holds himself up above you, grinning from ear to ear. “keheh, made a mess out of you,” toji’s voice is filled with pride. he lets you cling onto him for as long as you need to.
his eyes dart down to the sticky mess on your tummy and panties. the older man leans back on his knees to admire the view. he really couldn’t wait to actually slide inside of your tight cunt—but this will suffice for now. the sight of his cute girlfriend trembling and whimpering beneath him makes up for everything.
his fingers hook around the waistband of your panties. “can i look, doll?” toji asks in a gruff voice, desparate to see your glistening cunt. you weakly nod and he doesn’t waste any more time.
the sight greeting him when he pulls your underwear down is nearly enough to make him cum again. your juices are everywhere, multiple strings of wetness connecting your pussy to your panties. they snap one after the other as your panties are slowly removed.
“oh, y’re such a messy girl,” toji sighs, leaning down to kiss your tummy, licking up some of his own cum. you shiver and your hands dart out to hold onto his black hair. he chuckles at the gesture, humming in acknowledgement.
his eyes darken when he catches a glimpse of your sopping pussy again. he’s so close to it — so extremely close. his gaze darts over to a drop of his cum that threatens to slide down and over your clit. the heat and smell of your cunt is driving that man to the brink of insanity.
toji lolls his tongue out, eyes glistening with desire while he pushes your legs up and over his shoulders, big hands holding onto your hips. drool gathers in the corners of his mouth as his face hovers right between your legs;
“mind if i have a taste of you, princess? jus’ a quick one, i promise.”
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#sttoru writes.#jjk smut#jjk x reader#toji smut#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#toji x you#toji x y/n
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SWEET LITTLE MONEY MAKER. ― S.JY
When your best friend quite literally gifts you an entire man, you realize that you’re in no place to pretend that you don’t love it. or the one where you’re very much an “i don’t need a man” type of person, and Jake shows you that you do, in fact, need a man….him, you specifically need him. Only because he needs you.
MDNI! reblogs help writers, so please show your support through a reblog! PAIRING ― stripper!sim jaeyun x rich!afab reader
WORDCOUNT― 13.6k
CONTENT― he’s a switch and desperately wants to be ur sugar baby, you’re a boring rich bitch who has no interest at first, masturbation, reader is kind of power-hungry, jake chokes her NOTE ― if you’ve read this before, specifically for jeno, hi. that was written by me back in 2022 except now it’s way better and not an absolute trash-fire. enjoy! not proof read kind of.
nsfw tags under cut::
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
NSFW TAGS― jake is a stripper so obv dancing and stripping, HE’S VERY SWITCH BUT MOSTLY SUBBY HERE, hand job, masturbation, choking without permission, finger fucking, making out, protected sex omg GASP, slight nipple play, riding, lil bit of stomach bulge, sensitive cock continues to get fucked lmfao
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
It was a gift, or rather, he was the gift.
A downpayment of six hundred dollars told you enough about the man. It’s obvious he offers his services to lonely, sad, rich women who have no one else to spend their money on. A parasite, a leech, is what he is. Yet, still, your best friend has been taunting you with the idea for months in an attempt to have you give the guy a try.
She had apparently heard of the infamous Jake through various means. All rich women, all lonely and unsatisfied women. Which, to you only seems like a fucking insult to be taunted with the very idea of hiring this man. What is she implying? That you’re lonely and unsatisfied? Please.
Some best friend. Then again, she has since experienced Jake herself, and now her taunting feels more like…promises.
“He’s so clean, toned, and oh god–” She had paused with a flush across her cheeks as she thought back to the heated night. “The way he moves, shit, he teases so much. I could have died right then and there if he were to–”
The expression of disinterest on your face did not halt her doting, nor did the blatant grimace you eventually shot at her. Genuinely, you cannot take her seriously. Already you know too much about her, which is nice and all, but you could do without the details of her little stripper friend and how “wet” he left her.
��I even heard that sometimes he even gives special treatments with his services…” She had rolled her eyes after she said that, almost looking offended. “Not that I'd know or anything, he took my cash and left when our session was up.”
You recall knowing exactly what that “treatment” probably entailed, and the reason your best friend didn’t get it was likely due to the fact that she’s, well, not that rich. You’d assume such an expensive man wouldn’t give special treatments to women who wouldn’t end up being repeat customers anyway. Or, maybe, he just wasn’t trying to drain her dry.
And even with all of the information being dangled in front of your face, practically force fed to you, the image should be more delicious than the century-old wine you have every night at dinner– for the entire duration of her doting compliments of Jake, you are simply not fucking interested. There’s other things to do in life, more to worry about than getting your body excited for someone who will never finish the job.
Last week was when your bestie told you all about her single night with him. In fact, her entire visit was just her speaking of him, of how great he is, of how alluring he is. Arguably, you see that she’s a bit obsessed. Does it make you curious? Maybe a little bit, but not enough to actually give him a go yourself. And so, after that visit, you watched her leave with a menacing, evil little glint in her eye. You ignored it, as per usual considering she’s always up to something, unaware that the visit she lends to you today is not a complimentary marketing campaign of a male stripper, no, it’s a fucking ambush.
When she appeared at your doorstep, she said nothing. She didn’t even look you in the eye, actually. Weird. She did, however, have an envelope in her hand and you were almost offended at how she threw it at you and trotted away without a single greeting or goodbye. No afternoon lunch over champagne, no gossip, no advertising. Just an envelope.
Suspicious.
Upon opening said envelope, you find that your bitch of a best friend dropped that six hundred dollar down payment, likely in an attempt to force you out of being the stick in the mud that you always are. There’s a note. Your name in bold letters, a date, a time, and a signature of none other than “Jake Sim” with a fucking website on the back.
Shortly after huffing and rolling your eyes, about two seconds from tossing her six hundred dollars in the trash, you feel your phone ping to show your best friend texting you.
Best Friend: I paid for it, you just have to tip him. a lot. tip him a lot. You: why the fuck would you buy a stripper for me?
Best Friend: you need it, trust me.
So, now here you are waiting for that knock on your door and wondering why you even tried to look nice for some dude that’s about to swing his meat in your face. Appearance, reputation, whatever. Fucking unbelievable, you think, that there’s a stripper out there that only does private parties and your own best friend thinks you need it? You could have any dick you want, why the fuck should you have to pay just to look?
He’s going to be expecting more than just you here, alone in your house. Surely, he won’t be expecting to waltz into someone’s home all oiled up only to find one very disinterested woman.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
To your dismay, Jake has apparently already been warned of you. Your best friend probably told him that you’re a nightmare, too difficult to fluster or gain an interest from. The first words out of his mouth when you opened your door was “She said you’d give me that look.”
Still, even so, your best friend wasn’t lying to him. You played the part of yourself all too well as you watched him saunter into your home as if he owned the place. You’re impressed actually, with the way he doesn’t seem to feel out of place in such a lavish room. He looks…comfortable here as he scopes out his stage for the night, like he belongs.
“Big place, looked smaller on the outside.” He says casually, filling the silence in the room since you make no attempt yourself to greet him.
You watch as he tosses his bag beside your living room couch and eyes the spacious area just in front of the large fireplace. His eyes flick to the windows, to the walls, counting the outlets and looking for shelves with space.
“The smaller the better, sometimes it feels too big in here for just me.” You finally speak, admitting a small weakness of yours almost immediately. You are lonely, despite never wanting to admit it. And you watch as he shrugs, now crouching to grab wires from his bag.
“Oh yeah?” He glances at you. “Must get lonely. What a good friend to purchase me to help you with that.”
You bite the inside of your cheek at that, noting his calm and cool tone as he talks his business. The little smirk at the corner of his lips is charming, but it’s all for show. He’s just a pretty man, that’s all he’s got going for him and you guess you can respect the hustle.
“This was not my doing.” You cross your arms, pretending to be unimpressed.
“Yeah, yeah–” He waves you off as he begins to set up, making space for small lights to set the mood, looking to see if you have a sound system he can use. “I already know that you’re new to this.” He’s still calm, still collected.
“Lucky for you, first-timers are my favorite to entertain.” He smirks again, now looking directly at you as he, now, fluffs some of your couch pillows.
Your curiosity spikes again only for a moment. You really did think that the initial meeting would be different, less casual. You half expected him to waltz in cock swinging. Wasn’t he, like, supposed to pretend to be a cop or something? You know, show up and press play on a magical stereo that didn’t exist beforehand and start vibrating on you?
Instead, he’s just setting up…fully clothed in a ratty sweater with jeans that hug his thighs. He doesn’t appear at all to be a man that gets paid to take his clothes off. It makes you wonder. Makes you want to ask questions. Then again, you still have no interest in learning about him considering you already know exactly what he will be doing soon enough.
“You’re good with the mood lighting, yeah? Or do you prefer the morgue lighting?” His eyes shoot up to the bright white lights on your ceiling as he goes for his laptop now, presumably to connect it to your very obvious sound system.
You only take slight offense to his comment on your living room lighting, considering you have a control panel that can make them way less blinding, but– he’s right. And now you’re a little insecure that you prefer such a drab color in your home. You make your way to the wall, clicking the buttons on the panel just to prove you have warm lighting too, and that you can adjust the brightness.
“Ah, perfect.” Jake hums from across the room, eyes focused on his laptop screen before glancing to you and your extravagant light switch. “A little lower.” He guides you, knowing exactly which lighting accentuates his toned body the best when paired with his own little LED colored lights.
You turn the knob slightly, wondering just how good he must be at dancing in houses like this one.
“Little more.” He smiles
You dim the lighting more, looking at him and his relaxed posture.
“Right there.” He finishes in a more gentle tone, eyes focusing back on his laptop as he prepares not only the playlist but the mood lighting from his end too. Red. Lots of red.
And you just watch, his voice ringing in your ears as you try to pretend that your best friend wasn’t right. Even with just this casual set up…he’s…goddamn, he’s alluring. In that ratty old sweater, with his messy hair and pretty smile.
Stunning.
This motherfucker is stunning.
“Go and sit–” Jake says now, nodding to your couch as he places his laptop down, presumably done with the set up. “Just tell me where I can get myself ready and I’ll be back out shortly.”
You point towards the guest bathroom as you take your seat on the couch, unsure as to why your hands feel so clammy. And by the time he rounds the corner and you can hear the bathroom door shut, you attempt to make yourself comfortable.
And goddammit, no matter how many times you’ve napped here on this plush and soft surface, you can’t find the comfort here right now. The curiosity of why you’re okay with this burns in your gut despite knowing exactly why. Despite the fact that your best friend can always see straight through you and know exactly what you are.
At the end of the day though, why the curiosity exists isn’t what matters. It’s the curiosity itself. You want to know how much money Jake makes doing this, if he likes doing it, how he got started, what he does to advertise himself in a way to only find women like you, and many other things. Countless things. He’s hot as hell, actually, and how he’s come to do this kind of work is either one of two things. One being that he’s using what the Gods gave him to the fullest. Two, being that he had no other choice.
If he’s going to be paid to give you attention, the least you can hope is that he does it because he enjoys it, not because he has to do it. And if it does end up being because he has to do it, then perhaps his tip would be even larger than what you’d give for the ladder.
You’re uncomfortable.
The fact looming that you genuinely could go out and find a man at any given moment, yet here you are with a man forced upon you because you simply won’t do it. The implications of this man being here, why he’s here, how he ended up in this situation.
You’ve never been one to care, so why start now?
“You overthink too much.” Your best friend had said to you once, twice, hundreds of times during your friendship. Maybe she’s right, maybe you should just enjoy the show without feeling entitled to a slutty man’s life story.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Jake remains in the bathroom for a good thirty or so minutes, each of them passing like a nightmare in your head. Back and forth your brain goes, from not wanting to be in this situation to fighting yourself for being such a fucking bore. A very, very attractive man is primping himself for you to look at, he’s going to come out and do his best to turn you on, the least you can do is let yourself enjoy something for once. Enjoy him. Gawk and fawn over him. After all, at least you know there’s no promise to be had after he leaves.
No missed calls, no blocked numbers. This is business.
Fucking thankfully, the moment he comes out of your bathroom your mind has adjusted itself into the correct state of mind for this. A torturous adventure of thoughts, but you made it nonetheless. You actually can’t even look away from him now that he’s revealed himself, even when you tried. He isn’t dressed in anything that looks tacky or cheap. Hell, he doesn’t even look sexual. He just looks…
Expensive.
Jake genuinely looks like this is a place where he belongs. He smells like he belongs here, walks and murmurs like it too.
You feel yourself physically react to him in his blazer and dress pants. Business is what got you to where you are today, but never have you found the attire sexy in any way until now. The suit looks much like what your team would wear day to day in the office. Always all those shy men coming into your office, stuttering through their questions and need for approvals. Jake isn’t stuttering in his suit though, he’s standing confidently at his laptop as if he hasn’t even noticed you staring yet.
One look from him though is all he needed. Choosing this attire for someone like you is sure to mix both business and pleasure. It was a gamble of course, to bring your work home for you, but he does have the slight hope that you’ll never look at a man in a suit the same way again after this.
And goddamn the way his abs were glistening in the dim lighting before he had turned away from you. His blazer was partially open revealing nothing but skin when he walked into the room, and you honestly wonder if he even needed to do that. He could be fully clothed at this point and you think the room would still feel hotter than usual given your mind-state.
The way his belt held his pants on his hips was enough to have you thinking, looking as if it’s begging to be unbuckled just so the sound of it could fill your ears. The way the blazer widens his shoulders much more than the sweater from before. He looks bigger right now, both physically and in aura.
The scent of him wafted off of him in an even prettier way when paired with his image. He smells like a sweet type of musk, something you’d be interested in drinking alongside your dinner on special occasions. And under the assumption that the scent is why his abs are fucking glistening– fucking body oil. He uses body oil for this.
His hair rustles about when he turns to face you again, this time with the bass of whatever song he’s playing accentuating each step towards you. So…the talking is done then? Your cheeks heat up at how quickly he starts his session with you, even without a single roll of his body. Already, you could eat him alive, the smirk on his face leading your eyes straight to him.
Trailing down, down down. To his neck, that small glimpse of exposed chest, to the even more exposed lower abdomen section. His belt.
“Good?” He asks, leaning over you and placing his hands on either side of your head as he grips the couch.
You can’t look up at him, eyes training on his chest that you can now fully see through his single buttoned blazer. That same sweet musk assaulting your lungs.
Watching you from up here, Jake can tell you’re going to be fun to play with. A woman with such a harsh exterior now melting at the mere image of him when he’s got the right lights on him. To be fair, he really was warned and prepared by your friend, which didn’t seem the type to afford him on more than one occasion.
He thought it was nice that she paid for another session, shocking him to learn that it wasn’t for herself at all. What a wonderful friend, and what a bitch you’d be to have turned him away.
Finally, you nod to him, still eyeing his body in a shameful show of how much you genuinely did need this. What’s so bad about paying to look? Especially when the man is Jake, and he’s presenting himself like this.
“Rule number one.” Jake smiles, swaying in front of you as his grip tightens against the couch, wanting you to feel trapped and hopefully mesmerized by him, “I only accept bills of twenty, fifty, and one hundred. If you toss a fucking dollar, I’m leaving.”
That’s clearly not an issue you could fathom having, despite your internal protests. You only carry bigger bills anyway so you nod to him, quickly forgetting he even shared that ridiculous rule that would never apply to you by means of watching his hips swirl rather than sway. You see the heaviness in his pants, and you wonder if he gets himself hard for these little shows.
You fear looking up at his face now too, because you know he’s staring down at you, watching your every breath, every move.
“Rule number two,” He lends down now, lowering his voice and blowing against your ear in a short breath. “Don’t touch me without being invited, or without asking.”
Now, that’s a rule that applies to you only because you immediately want to defy it. There’s a knee jerk reaction almost that makes you want to reach out, to grip his flexing body and pull it closer. You wanted to feel how slick his skin is with that wonderfully scented oil. You wanted the scent on your fingers for later, you wanted to feel how warm he must be.
He doesn’t wait for your nod this time though, already noticing a familiar look on your face that he gets from most, if not all, of his clients. This is why he’s so in demand, after all. If he plays hard to get, sometimes he gets more out of his sessions. Sometimes he even gets a repeat client.
“And rule number three–” He continues, this time pulling back and positioning his face in front of yours. This rule appears to be an important one, the rule where you need to look at his face rather than his body. As if it needs to be heard. “I won’t touch you unless you ask– or beg.”
What you’re not realizing at this moment is that rule number three isn’t something he often speaks of. Sometimes, very rarely, Jake is in a mood when he goes out on a job. Condoms are always with him, just in case, but he never intends to use them or utter rule number three until meeting said client. They pay to look at him, not to touch him, however…if they pique his interest he surely offers the third rule.
And if a client never hears of it, they know that even if they ask to touch, he would never. Even if they want him to touch, he wouldn’t touch anywhere too pleasurable.
Meaning, you were right to assume what he was doing in your bathroom for so long. His hand felt better than usual against his length for the split second he had of tucking it into the most attractive position. He knew instantly that tonight was one of those nights, and you were to be a point of his own desire too. He played with himself for a bit, allowing himself to get half hard before coming out of the bathroom.
The way you looked at him finished the job, allowing his cock to grow to full attention at the mere sight of you fawning over him in silent discomfort. So– yeah, the third rule being for you was a given.
And when you swallow around a lump in your throat and look dead into his eyes, he thinks you know exactly what he means too. You’re lucky his cock is acting up, hell, he’s lucky it’s acting up. Look at you, fuck. Those tired eyes look ignited, and what luck the two of you have to have ever known your best friend.
“Deal?” He finally says, tilting his head cutely and waiting for you to nod. And you do nod, just as he suspected you would. Slowly, before glancing down at his body again.
He knows now that it’s time to start moving. Really moving.
“Is the song okay?” He asks, now pulling back and bracing himself against the back of your couch with all of his strength. “It was picked specifically for you.”
You’re not entirely what he means by that, but you assume your friend must have told him what she thinks you’d like.
“It’s fine.” You say, glancing away from his direct eye contact and suddenly feeling like a love-struck puppy in the way you feel so incredibly fucking shy because of him.
Jake notes that you didn’t ask what he meant by the song, but he doesn’t push. He’s better at talking with his body anyway. So, he begins to focus. Opting to start slowly and work his way up, specifically to work you up.
He steps back and away from the couch, centering himself in your living room as he closes his eyes and stretches his arms up to loosen his body a little more. Most of his clients love to see the way his muscles move as he stretches, and he suspects you’re of the same mind.
This entire playlist is chosen for clients like you. The ones he intends to let see all of him if they so wish to. The music is slow, the bass is strong, and each beat runs through the body in a way that makes him shiver. He can move as if he’s fucking you even from across the room without so much as a touch, and he knows you’ll realize it.
He’s at his best too, when this sort of thing happens to him. The eye contact is more intense, his hips are more pointed for a reason other than payment, and arguably he feels he’s most attractive like this too. Considering the countless times he’s been paid to dance and expose himself to women he’d never even look at twice, it always hits differently when a client is just his type.
And when he looks at you through the start of his dance, you appear to be painfully stiff against that soft couch. He smirks, a small chuckle rumbling from his chest. If only you knew how lucky you are, knowing his clients would be on their knees for a chance to experience him like this.
The fact that it’s your first time doing this…he’d be smart to not pull this shit on you. He’s never tried this with a new client, after all but–fuck, just look at you.
Jake’s hips move on their own for the most part, he doesn’t have to think much when he’s getting into it. He easily dances along to the music for you, as if it’s second nature to him despite not yet removing any clothing. It’s the build-up for him now, and he thinks it may be that for you too. Of course, if he leaves your house tonight with a large tip in his pocket and a hard, untouched cock, that’s fine too, though not preferable.
You watch him the same way he watches you, after all, the electricity for this to play out is there. It’s rare that he can feel goosebumps raise on his skin by a mere look from a woman that looks far too powerful despite sitting there helpless. He’s making you helpless, the dim lighting of this room accentuating his body is making you helpless.
And truly, you find yourself understanding with each shadow on his stomach as to why he’s so favored in the groups of lonely women. Arguably, you’re shocked your best friend decided to share him.
As the song begins to fade, Jake readjusts himself. He watches you during the brief silence, a sort of fondness in his eyes making you wonder if he’s looking at you or if he does this for everyone. It feels intimate with the way his eyes slowly scan your body in the quiet room. As if the silence doesn’t need to be filled with anything other than eye contact.
For him though, a woman has never met his eye between songs. Typically, their eyes are glued to his chest, cock, hands, and neck– never his eyes. They’re muttering, moaning, or shouting for him to hurry up, that the clock is ticking and they want to see more. But not you. Even as the next song plays, your eyes stay focused on his until he looks away and starts closing the distance. He skews his body now, allowing you to see him in profile.
In some ways, you have him feeling a bit flustered in the way you keep meeting his eye despite his body making a show for you. He’s never had to act with his face more than he has with you, even as he drops to his knees during a particular part in the song, thrusting his hips forward in an attempt to make you imagine yourself bent over on the floor in front of him.
He glances to his side, and still you’re searching his face.
He, now, looks back down for a moment, finding himself trying to guide yours somewhere else. He knows his job is to be looked at, to be seen, but this is far too seen for his liking. Thankfully, your eyes do follow his, and you gasp at the way he moves.
Your mouth falls open, gripping the hem of your dress as you imagine exactly what he intended.
The fact that this is your first time, Jake realizes this is new ground for him too. Typically, he speaks with his body and it appears now, he needs to portray some form of sexuality to you with his eyes. Like the roles are switched, he has to do to you what you’re supposed to be doing to him.
This is new, but warranted. Easy, even, for him to do it because he does want you.
You watch him intently, not fully realizing that you’re barely watching him fuck the air in front of him. Yeah, you see that too, but your eyes always go back to his and now, his own gaze is meeting yours. His gaze is searching your body, watching you move in reaction. From the way your fingers grip at the clothes he’d like to see on the floor later, to the way you slightly rub your legs together in a way that is almost too easy to miss. This alone is enough for him as his eyes burn their gaze into you. Much like you’re supposed to be doing to him.
He’s supposed to be able to look at you and know exactly what you’re thinking. So be it, the least he can do is let you know what he’s thinking.
Jake’s dance is more intentional now when he leans back on his arms, throwing his head back but keeping his head turned towards you. He tries to show you specifically what he would do to you. That bulge in his pants is large and blatant as he thrusts forward and back to the music. You glance to it, offering the same jittery reactions of arousal.
And this is when he allows his blazer to slide off of his shoulders, reaching to unbutton that single clasp for it to go sliding to the floor. He continues his movements through it, watching your eyes move to his arms and the strength used to hold himself up, his skin more and more visible to you. You do try to keep eye contact but…well, the way his abs flex when he presses forward, going concave with each inhale of those sensual lips that constantly smirk at you.
It’s a shame, really, to know that the bulge in his pants will remain there, unseen.
With his blazer now pooled at his wrists, he regains his focus. He wants you so badly by this point that it’s driving him crazy how hard he’s having to work for it. You’re supposed to be feeling this way, not him. Even if he can see that his routine is causing a reaction from you, he’s practically masturbating himself against the inseam of his pants just to get you to say something to him.
Meaning, he needs to work harder. The current song is soon to be replaced with another, his favorite to dance to, his favorite to fuck to. And to be fair, by the time this playlist gets to this song on this specific playlist, usually his clients are already shaking under him. Not you though, you’re holding yourself back and he can fucking see it.
He ignores the fact that it’s technically not time for him to move on to his next set of dancing, mostly because he almost never has to get to this part, he leaves his blazer on your floor as he positions himself back on his knees, turning towards you this time and looking you straight in the eyes. The fact that he’s hard and horny is enough to amplify the way he’s looking at you, confidence so high that he’s fine with being seen in any way you want.
He’s slow when he does it, crawling a few steps closer to you. You watch the way his shoulders move in the light, his eyes rounded and cheeky, his hair falling in front of them with a charming movement. It’s not intentional when you rub your legs together at the image yet again, very much wanting to spread them the closer he gets to you.
You can’t help but think he looks smaller on his hands and knees, eyes looking up at you as if he could eat you whole. You do wonder if your face reads the same for him, with the nervousness hitting you off and on.
“You’re hot when you look down at me like that.” Jake mutters out of nowhere under the veil of his music, stopping in place in front of you, planting himself right at your feet. “I’d like to touch you, is that okay?”
Nevermind the fact that Jake has never actually had to ask to touch a client before, he really can’t help it at this point. His cock is aching in his pants and he isn’t quite ready to wait an entire playlist worth of songs just to put his clothes back on and leave the door with pain between his legs. He very much wants to fuck something right now, preferably someone.
You.
On the other hand, he’s pleased to see how fucking fast you accept his request. Yes, he can touch you. Fuck, you want him to touch you.
And the whole idea that this is just him doing his job is so far in the back of your mind right now that you almost forget that he probably does this to most of the women he’s paid to entertain. Quite frankly, you don’t give a fuck. You can pretend that he only does this for you, you can live in a fantasy just for a night.
Jake lends you a smile as the current song finally fades out, the silence back except this time, you’re not looking into his eyes when you nod.
He’s slow when he places his hand on your knees, rubbing up, up, up until he’s able to lift himself and hover over you. He intentionally pushes your dress up your thighs, solely because he wanted to see you rub them together in full, shameless view for him. He wants to know what his body does for you. What it does to you.
And he stands, hovering over you for a moment with his hands glued to your thighs before he stares down at them. You just do as he expected, you rub your legs together, you look anywhere but at his eyes now, your hands grip the couch beneath you.
“I’m going to get on top of you,” Jake says now, dipping his head into your line of sight and forcing eye contact again, now gripping the back of the couch rather than your thighs, Just as he did when all of this started. “Would you like that?”
“Do you do this for all of your clients?” You suddenly ask with a smaller voice than you gave him upon opening your door. You breathe in sharply when he moves instead of answering your question immediately.
He spreads his legs, propping himself right on your lap, facing towards you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest radiating near your face.
“What kind of answer are you looking for?” He laughs fondly, grabbing your hands and placing them on his chest. “You should touch me, by the way.” He foregoes his own rule with that one, not wanting to wait any longer for you to maybe ask him yourself. “Just pull away if you don’t want to.” He adds, guiding your hands over his chest and down his abdomen.
“You didn’t answer my question–” You interrupt him, feeling the warmth pool and drip into your panties. “It’s a yes or no question.”
He chuckles sweetly, stopping your hands at his abs and holding them there.
“No,” he admits, moving his focus to the music now that he’s got your hands on him. “I don’t do this for all of my clients.”
Jake isn’t sure why he does it, but now he can’t bring himself to look at you. The eye contact feels more intimate than it should with you asking him such a question and demanding an answer. Even as he swirls his hips, feeling his clothed cock rub up and against you every few seconds, it feels almost too intimate.
“Oh, yeah?” You nervously chuckle back, feeling his muscles move beneath your hand as he thrusts his hips forward.
“You know,” He mutters, guiding your hands a bit lower despite his own confusion at how much he’s enjoying this moment with you. You feel the cold metal of his belt buckle against your palm and you think he’s going to stop there, like maybe this is just something he does to amp up the show or something, but no. He drags your hand down further until you feel the warmth of his cock under his pants..
Your pulse quickens as your ears start to ring. Your eyes avoid where your hand is right now, taking in a deep breath and looking up at him with question. He’s not looking back though, instead, his head is dropped and he’s staring at his pathetic bulge against your hand. He’s dancing into it, against it.
“I’ve never gotten this hard over a client that doesn’t want me.” He admits shamefully in a pathetic little laugh, bucking against your palm again to the beat of the song. “I can’t tell if I’m doing my job well enough.”
You feel shocked at that. A client that doesn’t want him? Is he fucking insane?! Then again, you need to be honest with yourself sometimes. You’ve tried to appear as uninterested as possible until he started crawling to you. There is clear attraction, obvious needs swirling in the air right now. You force yourself now to look at your hand with the hefty bulge rubbing desperately against it. The sheer size of him is something entirely different from what you were expecting out of him. This feels forbidden.
Wrong, even, But goddamn. The man is masquerading his dance solely so he can fuck against your right now. Maybe you should show some interest.
“You’re doing well, Jake,” You finally mutter to him, the first compliment you’ve given since he got here.
“Yeah?’ He sighs out, relieved as his hips press harder into your palm. Arguably, he’s not even dancing at this point, just trying to get off. “How well?”
Yeah, he’s a little desperate at this point for you to do something on your own. It’s so out of character for him to do all of this just to…well, get off.
“Show me,” He raises his brows, now removing his hands from yours and running them up his chest. His hips continue to move on you, and he watches you as you hold your hand in place. “Come on, the buckle is right there–” he nearly pleads. “You don’t have to be shy.”
Like a book, the two of you read the other at this moment. You’re not a woman of many words and he seems to understand that now, taking your single compliment and running with it. You do as he says, unbuckling his belt and now, sliding your hands up his body to meet his.
“There you go,” He stresses through another relieved sigh. Leaving your hands where they are against his chest and sliding the belt from his loops on his own. He tosses the belt behind him, relishing in that lost look in your eye.
You clearly have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you seem to like it. And god, does he fucking love it. Especially when he motions his head back down, forcing your hands back to where they belong and helping you unbutton his pants.
“Take it out, go on.” He says in a rush, “I’m asking you to do it.”
To be fair, you’re going to do it despite the nervousness in your gut. It’s been so long since you’ve touched a man, and even longer since you wanted to. You could half argue that you feel like you’re about to lose your virginity right now despite all those hook-ups in college. Still, you don’t even nod at him when you do it. Carefully tugging his pants down and watching the weight of his cock do the rest of the work for you.
His legs spread wider as he points it up at you, a lewd scene, one that feels both disgustingly sexy and very, very, straight forward. You’ve never been like this with any other person. Or rather, no one has ever blatantly shown themselves like this to you.
And still, Jake just looks at you. So much eye contact becoming more and more comfortable as he learns what you seem to like. He can feel the air in your apartment against the head of his cock, the cool air rushing past his shaft and causing him to shiver with a very quiet moan. He still only looks at you during this moment, wondering why you’ve let your hands fall to his thighs. Then he sees a new look in your eyes.
Are you…waiting to be told what to do?
For some reason, he keeps forgetting that you’ve never had a stripper in your home before, let alone been seduced by one. Honestly though, he assumed you’d catch on by the point his cock was out. This isn’t for show anymore, he wants you.
“Touch me?” He asks gently, reaching back down to your hands and urging you to grab his cock. “You don’t even have to move, I can do the rest–” He chokes out a groan mid-sentence as he feels you grasp him in your fist.
Such a silent woman beneath him. He can only read you in specific moments, this one not at all being one of them. You’re hesitant but willing, perhaps? You leave him questioning himself and his own motives, still wondering if that compliment you gave him was genuine or just part of your own little show.
Yet still, you’re gripping him tightly and allow him to focus his hopes. Dancing beautifully into that little circle your hand creates for him. The best part is that when or if he ever actually dances to this song, it’s when he’s blatantly fucking someone. So the movements come naturally, just as they would if your legs were buckling and your pussy was spread open on him. So, basically, this dance is nothing short of fucking your fist, pretending to keep up an act that he so wishes you’d see through.
He keeps his face intense, moving his shoulders and arms as if it’s easy for him to turn the tables and position you to where your legs are on his shoulders and he’s rubbing his cock against your, hopefully, soaked panties.
It’s a struggle though, to not moan out in desperation when you tighten your grip on him. He watches your pupils blow out, and can see the way you’d now probably ask him to do just that. To put it on you, to shove it in you. And so, he slows his hips a bit and catches his breath, staring down at you in wait.
“You’re really expecting me to get off all on my own?” He finally says in an exasperated breath to your stillness and silence. He really is, trying to act as though he can’t see the look in your eyes and how it’s changed since he started dancing. “Baby, don’t you want it?” He adds, now waiting to see if you’ll move your hand away from him.
You don’t though, to his surprise, you actually start moving your hand on him. You’re jerking him off, staring up at him like you want it, squeezing the head of his cock before dragging those pretty fingers back down.
Instantly his eyes roll back. “Fuck, that’s good,” He compliments your hand, shaking a bit and shivering at the fact that you really just did that. “Can I stop pretending that I’m still dancing for you now?”
You find it in yourself to chuckle now, nodding with a confident sort of smile. It hit you fairly quickly, actually, as you watched him chase his pleasure all by himself. He’s so hard, and so incredibly thick in your hand, you’d be stupid to say it didn’t turn you on. It’s that fact that you’ve barely said anything to him and he’s begging you to look at him, to watch him, to touch him. All of your nervousness slowly disappeared because it was being replaced with power.
Now, that, you’re used to. You know what power feels like in all aspects of the working world, but never at home. Never when sex is involved. You’re always expected to play the part of a desperate woman in need of love, and that’s just not you. No, you’re a powerful woman with nerves that could kill you. And the way Jake parallels your working world, it’s almost too perfect. You’re used to men being beneath you, begging for your money, giving you all of their attention, apologizing for normal human errors.
Jake isn’t exactly begging you for money, but he’s still begging for your hands.
“No.” You finally say, relishing in the shock on Jake’s face. “Keep dancing, it’s what you’re being paid to do.”
His eyes fall a bit now as he nods his head. You almost feel his cock falter at the same time at your response, but you move your hand a bit faster. You grip a bit tighter, urging him to do whatever it is that’s on his mind. You want to see if he will actually do as he’s told now, considering you’re the one with the money to bring him back here.
It’s endearing how he does his best, and honestly, his best probably far surpasses some of the most notable dancers on the market if you had any idea of how they were. It’s just a bit hard to continue this act for him when you’re gripping his cock in such a beautiful way.
“You’re–” He pauses to hold in a moan, feeling the way you drag your hand in time with his dance. “You’re not going to ask me to touch you?” He finally adds, meeker than before, far less confidence.
In fact, he’s hiding his face.
You smile in response, looking up at him with dark and wide pupils as you swallow each movement his body makes for you. Your ears are still ringing, unable to comprehend the music blasting in your sound system. Your focus is solely on him, your hands are on him, your confidence is because of him.
The answer to that question should be a given, after all, shouldn’t he be well aware considering this little stunt he pulled that actions truly speak louder than words?
“No wonder she liked you so much.” You start, now loosening your grip on him just to see the way his hips frantically chase the warmth of your palm.
“Wait–” He asks slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed and bashful. “You really thought, I let her get me off like this?”
It almost pisses him off that you’d say that to him, then again, it’s not like you knew that this specific instance is rare and reserved for very few clients.
“You couldn’t even look at me properly thirty minutes ago, now you think you can make assumptions?” He argues, pushing away from you.
Your response is skewing an eyebrow at him, watching him fight for control as he pulls his hips back and shuffles off of you and onto his feet. You glance down at his cock and the way it stands painfully erect, twitching at the sudden lack of friction.
“Is it wrong to assume when you very clearly want me to make you cum?”
He stills himself, a blank expression turning to that of a devilish smile, eyes narrowing at you as he leans over you.
“Are you suggesting that you’ll get me off?”
You smile, spreading your legs a bit and feeling the stickiness drip through your panties now.
“She did tell me that some clients have gotten special treatment from you,” You mock him slightly, watching his eyes glue themselves to your thighs. You make a show to spread your legs a bit for him. “I also know that she was no such client.”
A small moment of silence as he devours you with his eyes, seemingly interested in the attitude you have towards him now.
“I also didn’t imagine your clients would be the ones getting you off.”
Honestly, it’s like he hit the fucking jackpot with you. Challenging him, mocking him with his cock out in front of you. If you so much as wiggled your cunt in front of him, he would instantly be back on his knees, letting you soak his face in whatever way you please.
“Normally they’d be jumping at the chance, you though–” Jake very nearly growls at you with a deepened voice. “You look like you’re the one who needs to get off, if anything to get that snarky grin off your face.”
“Go on then, dance.”
It’s almost like a game now, he feels. You know he’s trying to seduce you and it seems you’re enjoying the fact that you haven’t let him yet. He knows that you intend to let him, so yeah, fuck yeah, he’s going to play along.
He raises a brow at you as he steps back once more, trying to ignore the fact that his cock is aching to be touched again. You still want your show? Good. He’ll fucking give you a show.
Jake does as he’s told, finally kicking his pants off in full and keeping his eyes on you the entire time. He watches the way your legs spread when he rubs his hands down his naked chest, straight down to his cock where he only briefly tugs at himself. He can almost see under your dress as you continue to spread your legs more and more, but the lighting is far too dim to see what his act is doing to you just yet.
When he saunters behind you, dipping his head by your neck and whispering the dirtiest part of the song into your ear, he can see your sharp intake of air, and he watches the way your breasts move with each breath he forces out of you, and the way your nipples perk through the fabric.
So, he stays here behind you with his hips pressed to the back of your couch, ghosting his hands over your neck, moving down your arms, and then to your chest. He doesn’t touch, because you still haven't asked yet, but he knows hovering alone is enough. It’s like he can feel the electricity beneath his fingers somehow reaching your skin.
And he continues to sing against your ear, leaning further forward to plant his hands on your thighs again, mostly because he’s already been given permission to touch you there.
“More,” He gently demands between lyrics. “Spread them all the way.”
Jake watches for a moment from behind you, pressing his cock against the back of the couch the moment he sees your legs stretch open, your dress hiking up past your waist, enough now that he can at least see a glimpse of the skin closest to your pussy.
“Ask me to touch you.” He pleads against your ear, trailing his fingers up your thighs enough to where he would need you to tell him to stop otherwise. “Just tell me you want it.”
It’s silent save for the music playing, and his cock is aching so badly by this point that each time he rubs against the couch he’s almost breaking down to fucking beg you to let him touch you. That alone could make him cum, but god, you’re so good at playing hard to get even if it’s blatantly obvious that he’s already got you.
You’re fucking playing with him, and he can’t decide if he loves it or hates it.
Your silence is so damning to his dripping cock, and his skin feels so hot right now that he’s almost forgotten that he was paid to be doing anything that’s not this.
“No.” You playfully respond, dangling yourself just out of reach. You breathe in deep though, knowing you can’t keep denying him for much longer with the way his hands are rubbing at you. “I like it better when you’re the one asking for it.” You lean your head back and rest it against the cushions of the couch, and he instantly moves from your neck to look down at you.
Oh.
“Cute.” He says, having no issue at all to be the one to ask, beg, plead, or cry. Whatever it takes to get a feel of you at this point. It’s just…new to him.
Another long moment of eye contact has him trailing his hands higher than before, almost to the point that there’s no skin on your thighs to touch that doesn’t involve your panty line.
“May I?” He asks, leaning down a bit closer so that his face is mere inches from yours. “Will you take my fingers?”
You could mistake this distance as something that should not be crossed between the two of you. Barely hearing his question at this moment, the only thing you want to do is to kiss him, and it hit you so fucking fast that you almost forgot he’s doing anything you ask of him.
“Come again?” You smile, blinking up at him.
He breathes in, seemingly frustrated.
“My fingers. Take them.” He says rather than asking this time, already moving his hands to trace up your panties and feeling the wetness seep through onto his fingertips. “You’re already dripping–baby,” He stops to moan at it, amazed by how fucking soaked you are. “I can imagine they’d slide right in.”
Typically, you wouldn’t allow anyone to call you that. “Baby.” but coming from his mouth, it sounds fitting. It sounds seductive, sexy. It has your stomach in knots, actually, your hips bouncing up just slightly at his words with the pet name attached. Finally, you let him. Finally, you grind yourself against his fingers.
“I’ll make you feel so good–” He groans at your movements, loving how desperate you suddenly appear despite pretending you weren’t going to work for your own pleasure. He continues to trace his fingers up and down just to feel the mess of you, the one that he created, and the one that he intends to make messier.
“Moving your hips isn’t the answer though, baby.”
You swear he can read your mind, there’s no fucking way he would say it like that without knowing how you just internally admitted to liking it.
“Yes,” You let out shortly, darting your eyes away from him. “I’ll take them.”
That breathy laugh he releases sounds sweet, almost dripping like syrup when he lays his head beside your neck. His soft singing picks back up as he listens to you now more than the music, his fingers continuously ghosting where he promised to put them, not yet moving your panties.
Paired with it, his abdomen stays tense as he humps against your couch, his muscles locking up at the pleasure running through him in this position. Your hips lightly chase his fingers, up when his fingers move down, and he can’t help the shy smile that spreads across his lips. It’s one you don’t see, but the constant shift in your personality is something that keeps him on edge. Keeps him wanting more, to know more, to see and feel more of you.
And when he finally reaches around you with his other hand, pulling your panties to the side and exposing your pussy, he watches you take over for him and push them down instead, offering far more than he anticipated. He watches as you kick them off your ankles almost elegantly, as if you could do this job of dancing better than he can.
“Eager?” He teases, knowing you won’t respond to that. And you don’t. It pleases him to know that at least by now, he can kind of read you. Yet, still, there’s nothing more at this moment that would please him more than getting to see you in full. To wander back around this couch and get a real good, close up look at what he’s doing to you.
“You’re so wet right now.” He groans, knowing that you were soaked before and only hoping you’re dripping more and more for him now. His cock is weeping as much as he’d like for you to be, chasing any amount of friction he could have. And he can see his fingers slip and slide through your slick into places he wasn’t even attempting to touch just yet solely because of how wet you are.
“You held out for so long,” He coos now with a soft breath against your neck, feeling your cheek nuzzle against his flexing arm. “Look at that,” Two of his fingers tease at your hole before– “they slipped right in.”
Your breathing is labored by this point, feeling him play with you as if he has all the time in the world to fuck with your head. Which is…nice. No rushing despite the time limit on his session, proving time and time again that you’re getting more than others get from him. Lucky you, that you can moan out without shame for him.
And you do, grabbing his hand and practically fucking yourself with his fingers. That takes him by surprise as the warmth and sheer tightness envelopes his digits. You are excruciatingly sexy to him, he doesn’t even attempt to stop you.
In fact, he doesn’t even hold back now, meeting each chase of your hips with the force of his fingers plunging into you deeply, with full intention. He scissors them open, feeling your hole stretch around them beautifully enough to fit in a third. And god, you’re so fucking wet. He can hear the slapping of his soaked fingers inside of you pushing more and more of that arousal out.
He moans blatantly against your ear now, easing you into talking back to you.
“Bet you could take cock so well–” He murmurs, feeling you shiver against his grasp. “How long has it been? Hm?”
He’s talking to you, yes, but hyping himself up at the same time. The scent of your hair forcing a slight obsession with you in his mind. The way you feel, look, smell, move when you’re just inches from him like this. He knows you won’t respond to a goddamn thing he says too, but it doesn’t matter too much to him at this point. Because now, you’re whimpering.
Such a confident, well respected woman…fucking whimpering.
“What was that?” He asks playfully, running his other hand up your body until he gets to your neck. “Has it been that long?”
And for the first time, you were going to answer. For the first time, he doesn’t leave room for you to answer. Instead, you feel his palm resting flush against your neck, now pressing in and practically holding you down by the neck as he fucks his fingers into you faster.
Painfully faster.
“Cry for me again,” He encourages you, wincing as his own hips frantically chase the back of your couch. “You’re allowed, come on, do it again.”
And because he’s working for it, because he’s doing so fucking well, you let out another choked moan. His hand straining your neck so tightly that any sound coming out sounds strained and desperate, even the sound of yourself right now ignites a fire inside of you. You can feel that grasp tighten each time his fingers fuck into you with a painful jab, his palm placed so perfectly that you can feel your clit being rubbed each time he pulls his hand back.
It’s…overwhelming.
“Yes, fuck- again.” He groans, bucking his hips forward and frantically lifting his head from your shoulder, all so he can look down at you. He’s heard you, now he wants to fucking see how desperate you are when you cry out.
When you open your eyes again, wincing every few seconds at both the pleasure and pain of his desperate hands, all you can see is his face. All you can feel are those same long fingers threatening more and more cries from your chest. He’s hitting spots inside of you that haven't been touched in a long time. Feeling it now almost burns, even with the cold metal of that single ring on his finger against your neck.
And when he tightens that hand on your neck once more, not only do you cry out, but he matches you with his own stuttered gasp. You strain to keep your eyes on him through this moment, watching the way his teeth appear to scrape at his bottom lip when the sound of you envelopes his ears. So, you do it again, and again, and again.
His fingers only continue their aggressive assault inside of you, his palms still hitting your clit, and that other hand around your throat…honestly? You could fucking sing songs to him at this moment if he so wished it.
“You’re shaking.” He comments, eyes flicking to your body. “Can you even breathe right now?”
His smile looks so fucking mean, knowing full well that you can’t breathe and only tightening his hand harder against your throat. Nevermind the fact that you never discussed this type of thing with him, fucking wasn’t even in the agenda. But now? Fuck it. You do like it. Maybe you even love it. The way you’re moaning for him is all either of you need to know.
This time though, when you moan out and it’s sounding particularly raspy, he releases his hand from your throat and instantly leans down to your lips. He’s a bit shocked that you immediately strain your neck to kiss him. What he was going to do was degrade you. Now though, he’s just tasting the way you’re so desperate to kiss him. As if you’re wanting this to be real, to be intimate.
Arguably, your idea was better than his own because now he can’t bring himself to degrade you. In fact, he was stupid to even consider such a fucking thing. Despite never kissing his clients, things with you have already lasted far longer than he’d normally allow. Things have already surpassed the intimacy level he allows too, even with the very few lucky women who get to touch him. He’s never asked for it, and he’s never gotten this much of his own pleasure out of finger fucking them. Not once has he ever fucked himself against a couch to hold himself back for a woman either.
Maybe just this once, he can want it to be real too. Even if he leaves with a pocket full of cash, the fantasy right now is enough for him to accept it as is. If you want him to kiss you, he will fucking kiss you.
His pupils grow as his eyes close, slowing his fingers unintentionally as he focuses on your lips and tongue. Even his body against your couch relaxes and his hips slow to that of a sensual thrust forward, one that offers a long and painful drag against his already raw and reddened cock. You kiss him back better than he’s even been kissed before, and falling into it was terrifyingly easy.
His brain nearly short circuits at the softness of it, allowing his hands to move on their own accord, cupping your jaw with one hand and emptying your pussy to rub your clit with the other. He’s intentionally deepening the kiss far past his own comfort level.
But he is comfortable, and that’s precisely what’s uncomfortable about it.
“You can take it–” Jake mutters between kisses, more focused on your lips than the words he spilling to you. “You want more, right?” He continues, only now pulling back in a breath and waiting for you to adjust your eyes on his.
Immediately, when you open your eyes they widen at him. Goddamn, was he this sexy before? Did he even look this into you when he was on your lap fucking your fist? Out of all of his begging, this…this right here. Are you really about to fuck a stripper? The man you were so against meeting just this morning? The man who has $600 in his bank account from your lovely, fucking adored and beautiful best friend?
The man that you’re probably going to give the entirety of the contents in your purse to the moment he packs up and moves on as if this never happened?
Yes.
“I want more–” You say to him, blinking at his pretty eyes and intentionally rubbing your clit against his fingers, mostly because it appears as if he’s stopped functioning all together.
And before you can even blink, his fingers are pulled away and his presence is gone. You lift your head to watch him, cock still erect and heavy against his thigh as he goes directly to his bag. As if he knew it was going to happen, as if this was his plan before he even met you, he pulls out a condom and slips it on without so much as a sigh of relief.
After all, he does have to take precautions to be fucking an absolute stranger like this.
“Oh.” You huff in disappointment, not entirely meaning for him to hear it.
He raises his eyes to you as he pulls at the end of the condom, offering plenty of space for whatever release he intends to have soon, but his eyes don’t seem concerned nor bothered.
“What? You want it raw?” He asks playfully, wiggling his eyebrows briefly before making his way back to you. “That’ll require a bit more discussion, you know.”
Discussion that neither of you are willing to have solely because your pussy is throbbing and his cock appears to be more pathetic than it already was being strangled in that thin layer of latex. And without another word, allowing both of you to put that to rest for now, he’s right back over you, lifting your dress up and off of you.
“Fuck.” He breathes out as your tits falls from their perfect place within the dress. The sopping wet couch beneath you only soaking up more of your slick as his words force more out of you. God, you feel so wanted.
You keep your arms lifted to help him ease the dress entirely off of you, leaving you bare beneath him as he instantly goes to grab both tits, pressing them together before flicking both nipples with the tips of his fingers.
Your body jolts at the sensation, feeling it run through you and swell your clit more than it already was. The ache is worse, your hole is pulsing, yearning, wanting to be filled. Still though, he takes his precious expensive time, leaning down and sucking one erect nub into his mouth and flicking it all the same with his tongue.
“Right here?” He mouths from around your tit, eyes closed and tongue still focused elsewhere. “You want to be fucked here?” He mumbles again, realizing that his question will likely go unanswered. It’s very likely that he is going to fuck you right here, on your living room couch. Asking you such a thing was stupid, borderline cringe-worthy.
To his surprise though, you lend him a small “no.” as you lace your fingers in his hair, pushing his lips to your other nipple just to feel the warmth of his tongue.
“No?” He questions, blinking up at you from your chest before biting gently around the sensitive bud against his mouth. “Where then?”
To his dismay, your smile is still beautiful but the way you close your legs and sit yourself up from the slouched, relaxed position you were in disappoints him. Mostly because he’s now forced to stand up too, and even more so because he has to keep his head dipped in order to keep his mouth on that perfect nipple of yours.
His disappointment fades as you hold his head there, feeling your legs almost buckle against him when he moans around it, sending vibrations through your chest. You remain gentle though, wobbling on your legs and shuffling forward, allowing him to continue his antics. Slowly but surely, you turn him around and back him up against the couch.
Only now, when you push him back and his teeth graze your sensitive nub do you realize that he’s so, so much needier than you expected. Even with his begging, his little disappointed sound didn’t go unnoticed. His brows are still furrowed now, not even paying attention to the fact that you’ve just shoved him down so that you can be the one straddling him. It’s cute, actually. Noticing how he was so intimidating when he came into your house, walking with confidence, dancing with intention, finger fucking you and choking you as if he had a right to do it…only to now look at him and the way he’s melting.
The way he’s needy, borderline puppy-like to be near you.
His eyebrows shoot up from that little face of disappointment though, when you pull yourself from his mouth and instead plant yourself right on his lap, letting your pussy lips envelope the underside of his cock as you grind up immediately.
It’s the first slippery touch his cock has felt all night and honestly? He’s been on edge this entire time. You grind so fucking beautifully, and it’s a first for him to realize that he’s entirely speechless.
You’ve rendered him incapable of speaking.
“You’re cute, I don’t think you realize that.” You comment, gliding against his cock and watching his hands reach out to grip your waist, “Really cute.”
He doesn’t falter at your compliments, instead he just melts into it even more. His cheeks are permanently blushed as he leans forward to try and get your tits in his face again, and all you can do is grip his hair and let him. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the head of a cock bumping your clit, and you’d never forgive yourself for not letting yourself have this kind of fun more often.
And Jake just gets whinier. His cock pulses and twitches to be inside of you all the while despite the discomfort of that latex layer likely needing to be replaced already. Still, his hands keep moving your waist, pushing and pulling you faster against him until– ah.
You angle yourself perfectly when he slides your upwards again. All you had to do was perk your ass out and wait for him to push you back down. Finally, he slides in without fully realizing that’s what was going to happen, and goddamn the sound he makes, fuck.
“Mmfuck,” He winces, digging his nails into your hips at the speed of which he bottomed out. The breath is knocked out of him and all you can do is stare down. Look at him now, so docile and sweet like he wasn’t fucking your livingroom floor prior to this.
And the grip of you on him, so strong. The slide was so easy, so fast, that he genuinely is seeing stars at how good you feel wrapped around him. The velvet walls inside of you pulsing, pushing and squeezing his cock all over. He can’t help the sounds he makes, grunting and feeling that grip you have in his hair intensify his pleasure.
Both of you now let out a long winded breathy groan at the sensation of your body adjusting to his, in all fairness, you had to grip onto something and his hair just so happened to be the best thing at the moment. He seems to love it though, so when you finally regain your senses of being absolutely fucking full, you pull at it again, tilting his head back so that you can see the expanse of his neck and the way it moves when he swallows.
“Bounce.” He croaks out at you, eyes glistening with pure fucking hope that you will.
And, well…when you feel his length pulse in place inside of you, you do exactly as he asked. You bounce, taking his full, thick cock each and every time. Not allowing a single inch of it to be neglected. All he can do in response is squint, trying to keep his eyes open through each breathy groan of praise and encouragement. He does lose himself entirely to the feeling of euphoria and the pain of how harshly you keep his head tilted back.
He really didn’t think you could get any sexier, honestly, and as far as he’s concerned…if he moves right now he’s going to cum. So, he doesn’t. Instead, he just lazily smiles at you and lets his eyes finally close so that he can fall right back into the state of seeing nothing but stars.
Frustrated, yet incredibly turned on by the way you’ve just completely lost him, you bounce harder, then you sit flush against him, twisting and swirling your hips. Grinding forward back, counting how he moans each time you do something that feels particularly sensitive for him. And you hang onto that, repeating those actions, lifting your ass and sliding back down. Again and again, until your legs shake and your fingers threaten to pull his hair too hard.
“Look at you now,” You half-chuckle out of breath, hearing the wet slaps of skin on skin paired with his blatant and sensual moans drowning out the playlist that has been long forgotten. “You can’t even move.”
All he does is nod his head, that same lazy and cocky smile appears as if to insinuate that you’re damn fucking right he can’t. Like he’s proud of it. And you’re not going to ignore the fact that his hands are still on your waist either, gripping onto you so tightly that you fear he could draw blood if you move the wrong way.
“Keep going, baby–” He somehow manages to say to you. “Don’t stop.”
There it is. This entire time he’s been begging to fuck you, and now he’s finally begging you to fuck him. His voice still sounds like honey, with that impressively hard cock inside of you pulsing so constantly that you could probably feel him in your stomach if you were to press against it.
“Mhm,” You answer him, promising that you won’t stop through just a half-moan and a long winded intake of air. Honestly? At this very moment, you feel like you’re sitting on a throne. Jake, obviously, being said throne but whatever. The fucking power he’s making you feel is nothing short of alluring.
And now, as that power goes to your head, you opt to grind rather than bounce for him now. Your hips aren’t as erratic, yet still he tenses up for you, forcing his cock to somehow feel even harder as you fuck it into yourself through lazy drags of your clit against his pelvis.
If you keep going like this, you could cum in an instant. But before you can even finish that thought, you look down at him on instinct due to his sudden silence.
His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and his mouth is open in a silent moan. You can see that he’s not breathing, seemingly holding his breath even after you release his hair. His head lolls back with that same expression, and that’s when you feel his fingernails dig.
“Oh,” You moan, now resuming your grinding much harder now, making a point to bump your clit repeatedly against him. “Fuck, are you cumming right now?”
Still he doesn’t respond, you can only feel his hips stutter under you despite trying to remain entirely still and stiff for you. You know that now is when you need to be chasing, because you’ll be damned if you’re not going to cum with him inside of you.
You want to be full like this, you want to squeeze him, to play with his sensitive cock even if it starts to soften. He’s too pretty, too fucking pretty when he whimpers. And so, you continue grinding, up until you’re on the brink of your orgasm but not quite there yet. To the point his cock is only half in you with the way you’re angling your clit against him, chasing your own high so aggressively that you barely feel his fingers tightening on you again.
Jake shoots his head back up, eyes opening as the sensitivity hits him quicker than he would have liked, but you don’t relent. The pain is intense from how hard you’re riding him, but he can see how close you are, the image alone compliments that sensitivity he’s feeling right now.
He seethes out painful praises to you as your desperate cunt finally reaches orgasm, squeezing against his softening length so tightly that he can’t help but whimper with you. Still, he studies your face through his own winces, shuddering at the way you close your legs around him despite them being forced to stay open in this position. You try to curl into the pleasure, as if you wish you could disappear completely alongside it.
And god, the way you grip at his arms for leverage as you shake through it. Dare he say…he’s fond of you. It still hurts, but it kind of hurts more when he knows it’s over. Mostly because it feels like he’s been in this room with you for days, knowing that’s not true. Surely he’s stayed longer than your allotted time with him, but you seemed to have given him something worth staying for at least.
When you slump over him, he almost wants to cry from how fucking sensitive he is right now. Thankfully, you seem sensitive too as you wince before he does, remaining as gentle as you can when you reach down to the base of his cock and hold the condom, allowing him to slide out of you at his own pace.
And then, the playlist comes to an abrupt end at just the wrong moment, because it forces Jake to realize that he hadn’t stayed at all over his paid time frame. Now, all he can hear is the way his breath is entirely too uneven compared to any of his sessions with prior clients like this. He’s breathing much too fondly for you, or rather, not breathing well because of you. He can’t just…go home can he?
“You okay?” You ask to the slight panicked look on his face, seeing how he stares straight up at the ceiling, not blinking, no readable expression. “Jake?”
He shakes himself out of it, eyes slowly moving and blinking to look at you.
“That–” He tries to talk, genuinely, he does. “Um…”
The change in atmosphere almost freaks you out. Isn’t this what he wanted? You saw the way he lost himself there briefly though, you can admit. None of this was even that rough or kinky, so you’re a bit confused as to why he’s acting like this.
Maybe you even feel a bit guilty. Like you’re the problem. So, you silence yourself and lift onto weak legs to stumble and find your dress. You throw it on quickly, hiding your shame that he so wanted to see just fifteen minutes ago. Then, you head for your purse and grab every single bill you have folded neatly inside.
Just like that, you place the money in his shaking hand and can’t bare to look at him.
“Wha-” He starts, licking his dried lips and sitting up a bit too quickly. “Why are you giving me so much?”
“It’s your tip.” You try to say casually as you clear your throat. “You can shower too, if you’d like.”
Jake holds his breath, hoping you don’t genuinely think he did all of that for the money. He was already paid to be here, the whole…you know, fucking thing, was his doing. What happened was because he wanted it, and…he still does. Are you truly just strictly back to business like this? You literally just handed him his rent for the month and then some, it kind of amazes him. The audacity. As if he’s never been handed handsome sums of cash from drunken lonely women. You aren’t a woman who needs him, and yet you pay like you did.
“Shower with me?” He forces himself to ask, because he knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t. After all, this tip feels like a rejection of what just happened. Hush money, even.
He doesn’t know what just crept into this room through the fucking silence, but he doesn’t like it. And it seems you don’t either, because you instantly comfort him with a smile and a step forward.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
He didn’t intend to spend the night, free of charge no less, but he did. All of that including some embarrassing talk involving the seriousness of how this is not normal for him.
Surprisingly, you believe him.
After the shower, the mood had shifted into something that felt natural and less rehearsed. He wasn’t just some stripper you could call over with a downpayment of $600, he was Jake, a man trying to make ends meet in a city far too expensive even for you if you’re being honest.
Jake, a man wanted by several women. You, on the other hand, feel the need to mend your lonely and stone-cold heart with him, however much that may cost. Not to fall in love, or to fill any type of voice. If anything, you want to be taken care of in specific ways, and you’d like to take care of him in turn.
So, when he grimaced at your joke, saying that he would practically be your sugar baby and that you’d run off all of his other business out of need to continuously be fucked by him and him alone, you almost stopped pressing the matter.
Because you would run off all his clients solely for keeping him too busy with you to go to them. You would be paying him every time, making damn sure he’s well taken care of and financially stable.
Jake did notice how you looked disappointed, quickly backtracking his grimace.
“Wait, you’re serious?”
You nod shyly, blinking at him.
“It’s not like we have to sleep together every time, you won’t even have to dance for me anymore.” You argue, knowing that’s at least a half-lie. “All I ask is that you don’t fuck your other clients if you’re still seeing me, and intending to..you know–”
Jake nods happily, without question even.
“So, what happens if I’m horny and you’re not available then?”
You narrow your eyes at him.
“Jerk off like a normal person?”
Fair enough.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
man, i forgot how lame this fic is but yknow what? good for me. jake is so fuckin’ fine fr I DON’T EVEN CAREEEEEEEEEEE. pls reblog and leave feedback on my work :D
#enhypen smut#sim jaeyun smut#jake smut#jake sim smut#jake x reader#enhypen x reader#enhypen hard hours
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Private Session
Part one, Part Two , Part Three
Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He asks for a private session in which he'll pay a large amount for her time. Rafe takes her home and uses her however he pleases.
Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe
Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs (Rafe does coke), Rafe's an ass, choking, p in v, unprotected sex, bondage, language, slight degradation, slight praise, oral (both m and f receiving), fingering. SMUT SMUT SMUT!
Word Count: 5.9k
Author Note: Hey babes! I got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. UGH I need him so bad. But anyways, this fic is NOT fully proofread for errors, and I was a little fried while writing this and it's literally almost 3 am right now, but I wanted to get this posted. If you see any errors please feel free to correct me kindly! Thanks!
I promise I will work on The Watcher; I just got a bit stuck. Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy! I love you all and stay freaky!
Credits: GIF from this post
You don’t hate your job, but it’s definitely not the most respected profession out there. You can’t really hate the one thing that makes you money, pretty damn good money too. What can you say, you’re good at your job. You do however hate the assholes who come in nearly every night just to get on your nerves, well more like asshole.
Rafe Cameron loves to come in and watch you. He’ll stare for hours, just admiring you. Sometimes he’s with a few other guys from figure eight, but usually comes in alone. Honestly it’s when he comes in alone that he’s really bad. Since he can direct all his focus on you shamelessly. Rafe’s especially awnry when Barry, your boss, comes to hang out with him. Your boss is normally quite fair when it comes to his dancers; always making sure they’re not being mistreated by customers. But Rafe? Rafe has a free pass to do whatever the hell he wants to whoever. And unluckily for you, you seem to be the only one of Barry’s girls that he’s interested in. He never does so much as look at any of the other dancers when you’re around, he only cares about you. You thought it was flattering at first, but now it’s just weird.
When you see him come in tonight you sigh, still keeping up your performance on stage. God, it’s definitely going to be a long night. You’ve already had enough crap for the day, now for Rafe Cameron to waltz into the club when you’re only halfway through your shift, this is just great. God must really have it out for you.
Rafe hadn’t known you were working tonight, so he’s pleasantly surprised when he sees you on your stage as he walks to the back room to find Barry. Once he disappears into the back room with Barry, you forget about him and continue on with your routine per usual.
A while later, you see Rafe finally emerging from the back room, making his way back through the crowd of horny, drunk men and topless women. You see him shove a small bag into his pocket as he walks into view. His demeanor is different now; even cockier than before, if that’s possible. And his eyes are bloodshot, pupils extremely dilated.
Just keep walking. You think to yourself as you collect bills from your stage floor. Just keep walking.
But of course, Rafe stops near the front end of your stage, taking a seat. He gets comfortable, slouching back in his chair, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed over his chest as he stares up at you.
You try not to let your annoyance show as you continue dancing. Rafe watches you silently; occasionally tossing $1’s and $5’s onto the stage; only sticking to the small bills for now. Not because he’s cheap, but because he likes to take his time; build it up over time. He only throws a few at a time, so he can watch you bend over and pick up the cash however many times he wants.
You lean down to pick up the newest bills he just tossed down for you. You look at him, flashing him a flirty smile as you do with all paying customers. He shoves his wallet back into his jeans and looks up, making eye contact with you. He flashes a smirk that’s almost…charming? But, you know better than to fall for that. No matter how pretty he is, you know better.
A bit later, you take a short break from the pole to make your rounds around the club and see if you have any customers interested in your services. You hate it when it’s busy. Well, stripper you loves it when it’s busy because it means more money. But you, you hate the loud crowds of drunken perverts and frat boys; you felt so exposed. Which, you should because you’re hardly wearing anything. But, you just feel too vulnerable. You liked the calmer nights when the crowd was smaller; you feel more in control that way. And fuck is it packed tonight. You can barely move through the people, and you can hardly hear anything besides the loud music and obnoxious cat calls. This is why you don’t usually work on saturday nights; you’re just doing one of the other girls a favor and covering her shift.
Accidentally, you bump your shoulder into somebody while on your way back to the stage. You don’t think anything of it and just keep walking until you feel a hand on your wrist. Immediately you turn back, pulling your wrist away. You’re not surprised to find that it was Rafe you had bumped into you.
“Hey, y’think I can get a private show?” He asks, his emotions unclear as he steps closer so he can hear you.
“Sorry sir, no rooms are available.” You say with a sensual laugh and a bright smile, no matter how badly you want to just roll your eyes and walk away. But you can’t. You must remain professional. Rafe bites his lip, taking yet another step closer. He leans in to whisper into your ear.
“That’s not what I mean.” He keeps his mouth next to your ear.” You can hear his breathing as you think of a response.
“Can’t, sorry. I don’t do that, I’m not a fucking hooker.” You bite back, beginning to walk away again.
But Rafe quickly retorts, “doesn’t matter, both mean you’re just a fucking slut. Fuckin’ whore.” He spits. He tries to grab your wrist again and fails, grabbing your hand instead. He lets out a jagged breath, tugging you closer. “Come on. I’ll give you one thousand for two hours.” You’re shocked at his generosity, but like you said, you’re not a hooker. You don’t sell that part of you. Especially not to this asshole.
You don’t get the chance to respond before Barry is walking over to the two of you. “There a problem?” You sigh a breath of relief when Rafe drops your hand. But when you look at Barry, you realize he’s not asking you.
“Yeah, this fuckin’ bitch don’t know how to listen.” Rafe gestures to you.
Barry nods, taking in Rafe’s words. He steps over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and leading you a few steps away to talk to you. “What's he want?” Your boss asks, trying to gauge the situation. It doesn’t help that he’s also been doing some lines in the back room.
“He wants to take me home. I told him I’m not a hooker.” You explain, hoping he’ll side with you.
“Well maybe for tonight you are. You know why that is, sweetheart?”
You look down as you speak. “‘Cause we listen to what Mr. Cameron says.” You recite his rule.
“One night, just go with him. I bet he’ll pay big.” Barry pleads, not really giving you much option.
You argue, “Yeah, and you’re just gonna take 50%.”
“How ‘bout this. You listenin’?” You nod, looking up at him as he speaks. “You do this, you get to keep 75%.”
You think for a moment before responding. “Seventy-five percent of all my earnings.” You demand, causing Barry to chuckle.
Barry knows you’re stubborn, and he knows he can’t legally force you to go with Rafe. So hesitantly, he gives in and accepts your deal. “Fine, fine ‘aight, seventy-five percent of everything you make.”
You reach out to shake his hand. He holds onto it for a moment longer than is necessary, looking into your eyes, smiling a grimy smile; his gold tooth shining as the low club lighting hits it just right. “Now go get to fuckin’”, he laughs, letting go of your hand. You roll your eyes and as you turn your back to him he gives you a slight nudge back towards Rafe’s direction.
Re-approaching Rafe, you compose yourself. “One thousand for one hour.” You negotiate, your expression making it clear that you won’t be taking no for an answer. You know he has the money, and he’s clearly willing to spend it on you.
Rafe takes his bottom lip in between his teeth, attempting to contain his amused smile. “That wasn’t the deal.” He takes a step towards you. Your demanding expression doesn’t falter as you continue to stare at him silently. He huffs out a chuckle, nodding his head and licking his bottom lip. “Okay, fine. One thousand for one hour of your time. But, anything that goes over an hour is free. And trust me, you’re gonna be begging for more.”
“Right, sure I will.” You say sarcastically.
Rafe ignores your words. “So do we have a deal?”
“Yeah,” you sigh. “Deal.”
Rafe wastes no time in taking your hand, leading you to the back room. You pass by the private rooms, seeing that one had opened up. You stop walking, making Rafe look back at you with a confused expression, waiting for your reason.
“There’s a room open…” You speak, looking over at the open door.
“I already told you, not here. That’s not what I’m paying for.” Rafe turns, pulling you behind him. He leads you into the back room, waiting for you to get your stuff from your locker. You slip some clothes over your lingerie, not wanting to go outside nearly naked. After grabbing your bag, you follow Rafe out the back door and to his truck.
His demeanor seems to be more neutral now, rather than being plain mean. Nervously on the drive over to figure eight, you spew out words. “I don’t usually do this.” You say, looking over at Rafe. Rafe doesn’t bother looking at you, he just stares straight out at the road in front of him. You can tell he doesn’t believe you. “Really. I never go home with random guys like this. I never even have se–”. You cut yourself off, already having spilt too much. You curse yourself.
When you’re working, you can keep a strong, dominant attitude and be more confident because it’s all just a part of your character. You can be anyone on stage, you don’t have to be yourself. But as soon as you’re outside of the club, you’re just an anxious fucking mess. Which probably has to do with why you hardly have a sex life.
Rafe looks over to you, occasionally glancing back out at the road. His expression almost makes it seem like he’s actually listening to you; like he cares. You shake that thought out of your head and try to remind yourself that he doesn’t care about what you’re saying, he’s just paying you for sex.
“Wait, so you’re saying that you’re a stripper and a virgin?” He asks, his eyes narrow with confusion, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
You laugh. “No! I never said I was a virgin.” You explain.
Rafe smiles when he hears you laugh, not being able to keep his eyes off of your beautiful smile. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you laugh before. A real laugh, not the fake, flirty ones you flash to the guys at the club while working. It’s one of the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.
“So, what then?” He genuinely asks. You’re shocked with the amount of effort he seems to be putting into this conversation, you never took him for much of a talker.
“I don’t know…I just don’t get many chances I guess.” You say honestly, unsure why you’re sharing this with him of all people. You hate him.
“Bullshit.” Adds Rafe. “You’re a stripper.”
“Okay yeah, I’m a stripper, but that’s ‘cause I need the money. I don’t go home with the guys from the club, well…usually.” You pause for a moment. “...that’s just my job. Outside of the club I get to be myself…and I don’t know, it’s just different.”
“You’re afraid people won’t like who you really are?” His words take you by surprise, making your words get stuck in your throat.
You eventually manage to choke out a response. “Yeah, I…I guess so.” Rafe just nods. Not wanting to admit it, but he gets what you mean. You both sit in a comfortable silence the rest of the way to his place.
Arriving at Tanneyhill, Rafe parks the truck in his driveway and he quickly hops out, rounding the front of the truck and opening your door, allowing you to step out. He leads you up to the front door, grabbing his keys from his pocket and unlocking it, following you inside before shutting the door behind you two.
You take a few steps down the hall, observing the room around you. Now that you’re seeing his home, you wish you tried to get even more money out of him. “C’mon”, he mumbles from behind you. Rafe grabs your duffel bag from you and walks in front of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He sets the bag on a small couch in his room, turning around to look at you. He looks you up and down, admiring your body. His skin crawls with anticipation of what’s to come. He’s finally gonna get to do all the things he’s been dying to do to you since the first time he saw you at the club.
Rafe moves to sit on the bed, patting his lap without saying another word. You know what he wants. Slowly you make your way over to him, straddling his lap so that you’re facing him; your knees on the bed on either side of his legs. For a brief moment, you both stare at each other, getting momentarily lost in one another’s eyes.
Carefully he places his hand on your face, cupping your jaw. His movements are slow and calculated as he leans in, enveloping your lips with his own. The kiss is slow and tender, everything you weren’t expecting.
You pull back just enough to look over at the clock on his nightstand, noting the time in your head. You breathlessly mutter to him, “your hour starts now.” You can see him staring at your lips and without warning he leans in, kissing you. This time, he’s not being so gentle.
Things escalate quickly; clearly he doesn’t want to waste any time with you. Rafe stands up, holding you while not breaking the kiss, he turns the two of you around and lays you on your back, crawling over you. His lips leave yours as he starts to kiss and suck at your neck, eventually finding your ear. Rafe takes your ear between his teeth, gently nipping at it. The feeling of his teeth grazing your skin sends a chill throughout your body.
He gently whispers, “I’m gonna do what I want, but you just tell me if it’s too much, alright? Let me know if you want me to stop.” He presses a soft kiss to your ear as you nod.
“Mhm.” You mumble, acknowledging his words.
“No.” He shakes his head, “Say it.”
You oblige, looking at him as you speak. “I’ll tell you to stop if I need to.”
Rafe smirks. “Good girl.” He wastes no time before his lips come crashing onto yours again; somehow even more passionately than the last.
A soft moan escapes your lips, only making him get even rougher. He kisses you sloppily, his tongue making sure to explore every bit of your mouth. He hovers over you, one hand pressing into the mattress beside your head, holding himself up. And with his free hand, he begins to slide off your shirt.
You try to help him get you out of your shirt by maneuvering yourself around as best you can underneath him. Once your shirt is off, very little is left to the imagination in your work top, which is just a very lacy piece of lingerie. His hand then works at the button on your shorts, once he’s got that undone he starts tugging them off of you, tossing it to his floor. Once you’re in your little work ‘outfit’, he takes a moment to admire you up close.
He’s seen you in skimpy little things like this before, he needs to see the rest of you; all of you. He starts to try and get you out of your lingerie, but there’s too many straps and clips, he can’t get you out of it quick enough. He starts to get frustrated, pausing your kiss as he leans back trying to get a good look at what he’s working with. Rafe’s impatience gets to him and he mumbles a quick “fuck this” just before ripping the thin fabric right off of you.
You let out an involuntary gasp, causing him to look at your face which has an annoyed expression. This was one of your new outfits for work and he just ruined it.
He leans in and presses a soft, wet kiss to your slightly parted lips. “Calm down, I’ll pay for it.” You don’t get a change to respond before he’s pulling the damaged fabric off of you, tossing it onto the floor as well. “Fuuckk, baby.” He mutters, running his free hand down your bare skin, tracing the shape of you as he admires your bare body. “Oh my god,” he whispers, almost inaudibly. “So fucking beautiful.” His mouth finds your chest, immediately latching onto one of your nipples; he sucks at it until he eventually pulls off to give attention to your other breast. His eyes are trained up on you, watching as your head tilts back in pleasure.
Rafe pulls his mouth off with a pop! He stands up from the bed, walking over to his dresser. He opens up the top drawer, taking something out and coming back to you. You see a bundle of rope in his hands, your eyes widen in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be into all that. He really had this planned out. Your excitement builds; the wetness between your legs growing. Rafe sees the thoughts going on in your head.
He tries to reassure you, “relax, it’s fine, m’gonna take real good care of you baby.” He instructs you to scoot up towards the headboard of his bed. Quickly and skillfully, he ties your wrists to the bed, making sure it’s not tight enough to cause pain and not loose enough for you to slip out. You’re not sure how you feel about being tied up and against your will, it definitely leaves you very vulnerable; very out of control. However, for some reason you feel like you can almost trust him. Because so far, since leaving the club, he’s been very tentative and reassuring, even gentle at times. Which is not at all what you had expected from Rafe Cameron.
Soon, his mouth is on you, his tongue lapping up your arousal. You struggle against your restraints, feeling like you need to grip onto something. Your hips try to run from him, only causing him to grab ahold of your thighs, keeping you in place.
“F-fuuck…” You whine.
Rafe mumbles against your cunt and you can feel the vibrations in your core. As his tongue fucks you ruthlessly, you find it hard to keep quiet, a sea of moans escaping from your lips.
“Feel good, hm? You like that?” You pout at the loss of his mouth on you, causing him to chuckle before resuming his actions. His tongue circles your clit, only stopping to suck on it. The heat is building in your lower stomach, almost getting unbearable.
“Ohhh…shitshitshitshitshit” You almost scream. “Fuck! Oh fuck Rafe. Please, please don’t…don’t stop.” Rafe pulls back, “told you you’d be begging.” Your hips buck up, chasing after his mouth, missing the feeling of his tongue. But ultimately, Rafe obeys, his mouth continuing its ministations on you. He adds a finger to the mix, slowly tracing up and down your entrance as he sucks at your clit. He slides his long digit inside of you without warning, thrusting it in and out, curling it up to hit the spongy spot deep inside you. “Fuck,” You cry. “I…fuck. G-gonna cum, Rafe!” Your wrists tug against the rope; hurting just a bit, making you whimper in pain. Though you’re distracted by the feeling of your orgasm creeping in.
Rafe hears your cry and he can tell it’s different from your other moans. His head snaps up from between your legs, making you miss his warm, wet mouth on you. He continues his earlier actions, adding a second finger in you, trying to stretch you out as much as he can; to prepare you for him. Your legs wrap around his head as the barrier in your stomach finally breaks, letting your excruciatingly good orgasm wash over you.
He slowly works you down from your high, pulling his fingers out from you, making you squeeze around nothing, your body hating the absence of him. His tongue continues to lap up all your juices. Then he begins to kiss his way back up your body. When he meets your lips, he kisses you tenderly again, letting you taste yourself on his lips. While kissing you, his hands work on freeing your wrists. He sees the red marks they had left, feeling proud yet also feeling a bit bad for causing you pain. “You did so good…” He praises.
You tug his shirt up over his head and run your hands down his toned chest, still attempting to catch your breath from earlier. Then you work at his belt, tossing it aside and pulling off his pants, also tossing them aside. Now that he’s left in just his boxers, you sit up. You get Rafe to lay down where you had been. Using the same rope to tie his wrists to the bed; though you’re not too confident in your knot-tying abilities and you’re unsure if it’ll be able to contain him.
“W-what are you doing?” He asks almost nervously. Rafe hadn’t been expecting for you to take charge of him, usually that doesn’t happen to him. He pulls against his restraints a bit, quickly finding out the pain that comes with.
“Shh…relax, it’s fine.” You recite to him. He smirks, recognizing his own words.
“Fuckin’ brat.” He spits, trying to seem upset, although he really just thinks it’s the hottest fucking thing ever.
You travel down his body, straddling his legs as you start to slowly pull his boxers off of him. Rafe’s hard cock springs out, shooting up into the air. You gasp at the sight. You can see why he’s always so cocky now, it’s because he’s got the means to back it up.
Your hands find him, gently stroking his cock. Rafe’s head tips back, his eyes shutting in pleasure for a moment. Quickly, he’s watching you again, not wanting to miss the sight of this. Slowly, you put your mouth onto him. Rafe tries to remain in control by bucking his hips up off the bed, shoving his cock deep down your throat, making you gag in response. You pull off of him for a moment and he chuckles. Knowing he has a limited time with you, you don’t wait too long before sinking your mouth back down on him. As your confidence builds, so does your pace.
“Shiiitt baby, feels so fucking good.” He groans. Already, you can feel his dick twitching in your mouth, causing him to whine. Big, tough Rafe Cameron whining underneath you, completely at your mercy. He doesn’t seem so threatening now that you’ve seen him like this. “W-wait, wait baby, wait.” He manages, his words just spilling out. He struggles against his restraints some more before continuing. “Not yet; I don’t wanna cum yet.” You understand, pulling your mouth off of him. You move to undo his restraints, his mouth finding your tits as you lean over him to untie the rope.
The second he’s free, you’re already somehow on your back with him on top of you. Rafe leans over you and you press open-mouthed, wet kisses all across his chest as he does so. He grabs something from his nightstand and when he pulls back you can see the small, shiny wrapper in his hand. Smart, a condom. You hadn’t even thought of that, but it was probably a good idea.
You place your hands over his, taking the condom from him. As fast as you can, you open it and reach down between you two, rolling it onto his cock until it reaches the base. He leans back down on top of you, kissing your neck and jaw. He whispers, “can I?”
You respond jokingly, “that’s what you’re paying for, isn’t it?” Rafe just stares at you, his expression showing his annoyance and frustration with you. Before he asks you to ‘say it’, you add to your previous statement. “Yes, Rafe. Fuck me.”
Rafe doesn’t need any further permission as he lines himself up with your cunt. He wishes he could feel your wetness on his skin, but he knew wearing a condom was the smart thing. Slowly, he presses in. Only entering you about two inches, letting you adjust to him before adding a few more inches. Slowly; inch by inch, Rafe enters you, eventually bottoming out. Rafe stays still for a couple moments until you give him a small nod. He moves his hips slowly, rocking in and out of you at a comfortable pace. Your hands wrap around him, hooking underneath his biceps. Your palms grip onto his back, your nails only slightly digging into his skin. His pace begins to pick up, getting loud moans and whines to come from you.
“Mmmnn…nnhhgghh f-fuuckk, Rafe!” You cry out, a tear rolling down your cheek.
The sight of your tear only turns him on more, in a dark and twisted way. He uses his thumb to wipe away your warm, salty tear off of your cheek.
Despite his gentle touch, Rafe is now drilling into you without regard for your poor cunt. Shamelessly fucking you with a condom on. He looks at the sticky, white mess leaking from your perfect cunt; creating a slick film that coats his entire cock. He reaches out to grab you by your hair, forcing your neck down so that you’re looking at where you and him connect, “See that? That’s all you baby.”
When you’re greeted with the sight of his entire length buried deep inside of you, your eyes begin to roll back as your next orgasm approaches. Rafe clicks his tongue at you, pulling entirely out of you. After a few moments without him inside of you, you immediately start to pout. A whine escapes your lips, “Rafe…”, your hips buck up, as if trying to draw his attention back to your needy cunt.
A small, cocky grin spreads across his face at the sight. His grip tightens in your hair as he begins to tug, directing your gaze right where he wants it, on him. “You gotta fuckin’ see this, baby.” Rafe says proudly, looking back down at your messy pussy. Quickly, he thrusts back into you with force and you watch as your cunt swallows him whole. “See that? See what you do for me?” Rafe speaks in a tone that sounds as though he’s praising you, but he knows that your body has no other option than to take him. “See how fuckin’ well you take me? This pussy was fuckin’ made for my cock.”
Rafe groans, pre-cum now leaking into the condom as his pace becomes sporadic. Still going through the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm, your cunt continues to squeeze tightly around him.
“Holy f-fuck.” Rafe stutters, his fingers moving to your clit, rubbing it in circles. His movements are getting sloppy, arithmetic as he tries to draw another orgasm from you before he finishes. “God fucking damn.” Rafe’s head tips back, you lean up to kiss his neck, occasionally nipping at it, your moans being muffled by him.
Your third orgasm approaches, your entire body trembling as you shriek. “Rafe! Fuck, fuck, I-fuck!” Your screams become muted when he kisses you, shutting you up. Rafe’s own orgasm starts to creep in, his thrusts getting harder for a moment before he stills inside of you. You can feel his cock twitch, followed by the feeling of his hot cum as it fills the condom. He slowly moves, easing you both back down from your highs. Eventually, he pulls out of you, rolling off to the side and laying on his back beside you.
You work on catching your breath as you turn your head to look over at the time; you have about fifteen minutes left with him. You don’t know what he has in store for you now, he’s already succeeded in making you cum three times within forty-five minutes. While he takes a moment to rest, you decide to get on top of him. You pull off his condom, tying the end of it in a knot. Without giving him any kind of warning, you put your mouth back on him, sucking his warm, sticky seed off of his dick. One of his large hands shoots up to hold the back of your head, pushing your mouth all the way down on him. You can feel his semi-hard cock already growing harder again.
“S-shit, babe.” He groans, pulling you up, bringing your face to his and meeting you with another kiss, as if to thank you.
You stand up, your legs shaky. You half walk, half stumble into the adjoining bathroom, tossing the condom in the trash. You make your way back to the bed, laying next to him. You turn your head to look at him. “What else can I do for you? Time’s almost up.” You ask softly.
Rafe huffs, pissed off that you had to remind him that this isn’t real, he’s paying for this, for you. Without a word, he flips over on top of you, his hand wrapping around your throat. There’s something different about him now. His eyes; they carry a bit of darkness, his movements now rough and aggressive. He squeezes your neck lightly, making you gasp in surprise. “Rafe…”
“Shhh…you’re gonna take what I give you.” He squeezes tighter, making it harder for you to breathe, but not impossible. He leans down, kissing all over your neck and chest, leaving bites and bruises in his wake. You let out a small whine involuntarily; you can feel his touch throughout your whole body, like a jolt of electricity. “Shut up, whore.”
Suddenly, Rafe’s thrusting into you again. But wait, he’s not wearing a condom. In your surprise, this way feels so much better. You can feel the warmth and smoothness of his cock as it easily slides in and out of you, making the most lewd noises. You try to speak, but his hand tightens around your throat one final time, actually making it impossible for you to breathe. He stares into your eyes, watching as your face turns red and your panic sets in. You put your hands on his arm, hitting and tugging on it. Just as your vision starts to go dark, he eases his grip. You gasp for air, taking in as much as you can while he continues his attack on your pussy.
You’re about to see stars again for the fourth time tonight when he suddenly pulls out of you. You whine at the loss of him, frustrated that he denied you of your orgasm. Rafe rolls off of you, making your brows furrow in confusion. “What the fuck?” You question.
He looks over to the clock on his nightstand and you follow his gaze. “Time’s up.” He says plainly. You knew what he was doing. This sneaky motherfucker. He purposely got you to your climax right as the hour ended so you’d prove him right and beg for more; beg to let you cum one more time. As much as you wanted to prove him wrong and just leave, you need this, you need to feel him fill you up.
Before he can protest, you straddle his lap, sinking yourself down onto his cock. Immediately he groans, taking hold of your hips. He holds you still, not letting you move yet. “Knew you’d want more.” He says, now guiding you to grind on his dick, this new position lets him hit a new depth inside you. “M’not paying for this now.”
You don’t respond, instead using your energy to bounce up and down his length. Your climax is already near, your entire body shaking and spent from the past three orgasms he gave you. Rafe helps you out, his strong hand gripping onto you as he holds you up, drilling up into your cunt at a god-like pace. How is someone this talented, this fucking perfect, paying for sex? Surely he could get any girl he wants. Although you’re not complaining, four orgasms and a thousand dollars? How could it get any better than that?
You yell out as the band in your stomach snaps, the pressure being relieved as a stream of your liquids squirt out of you, splashing onto his stomach, dripping down to his sheets underneath you both. You’re just as shocked as he is when this happens. You didn’t even know you could do that.
“Fuck,” Rafe growls, continuing to fuck up into your shaking body. Rafe doesn’t warn you before shooting his load into you. But the warmth and fulfillment of his seed feels too fucking good to be mad about. Slowly, you pull yourself off of him. He has to help lift you off of his cock since your body is completely spent. “You’re fucking amazing.” He presses a long, soft kiss to your head.
After helping you clean up a bit, you change into your own clothes. Rafe drives you back to the club, the ride awfully quiet, both of you being too exhausted to talk. When you get there, he pulls his wallet out, grabbing out a large wad of cash and handing it to you. You quickly count it, and then recount it, when your results don’t change, you look up at him with furrowed brows. “That’s for being so fucking good.” Rafe had given you two thousand instead of one. This boosts your confidence a bit, an hour of sex with you is worth two thousand dollars? God, you should’ve fucked Rafe sooner. You get out of his truck and walk towards the club. Rafe speeds off out of the parking lot.
It’s late, but Barry’s still here, though the crowd has definitely shrunken in the last hour. You walk in and find Barry in the back room. He laughs as he takes in your disheveled appearance; your hair and makeup are disastrous.
“Looks like someone had a good time, huh? Now where’s my money?” He asks. You pull out the cash, counting 500 and tossing it to him.
“There. That’s seventy-five percent of what I made.” You start to walk out. But his voice calls you back.
“Shit, you made two thousand in one hour just for fuckin’ him? You got some magic fuckin’ pussy or sum?” He laughs. “I might have to start sellin’ you out more, don’t I?”
Too tired to argue, you walk out. You don’t want to admit it, but you wouldn’t hate having to do that again with Rafe, whether it’s paid or unpaid.
Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate it! PLEASE feel free to leave Rafe x reader requests!! I LOVE getting them!
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DISCORD BOYFRIEND KÖNIG
sfw + nsfw. this is just an amalgamation of all my ideas
könig has never been one for putting his face on social media. even before the scars that pull at the skin of his cheek, reshaping his expression in ways he’s never fully grown used to, the idea of being seen, really seen, has never sat right with him. there’s a certain comfort in anonymity, in keeping the world at arm’s length. easier that way. safer.
that unease, paired with what some might consider his more nerdy interests, means he gravitates toward spaces like discord rather than the highly curated feeds of instagram or facebook. there, he doesn’t have to worry about photos or videos— just a username, and a presence in text.
his handle is simple: king 👑. a nod to the name he’s carried for so long, stripped of rank, stripped of weight.
even in the server where he’s most active, he keeps things vague, blending into discussions about games, military history, or whatever niche interest has caught his attention that week.
every now and then, he’ll let something slip— a mention of deployment, an offhand comment, disappearing for months at a time, only to return with a sudden burst of activity. some put the pieces together. most don’t. and könig prefers it that way. it’s easier to let them think he’s just another guy with spotty internet.
your first interaction is rather simple in retrospect.
he’s back after weeks of recon, shaking off the mission like dirt from his boots, easing into the familiarity of a gaming server he’s called home for years.
it’s not a small server, so new people come and go. he does his usual routine— an automated, slightly impersonal welcome but what he doesn’t expect is the sheer enthusiasm in return.
“hi!!!!”
he stares at the message for a second, counting the exclamation marks. three. four. five? a small smile tugs at his lips before he even realizes it.
it doesn’t take long before you’re at his metaphorical side, sending a friend request before the conversation even shifts from your college courses.
the older members tease him. something about his last deployment scrambling his head enough to take a newbie under his wing. he lets them talk. he doesn’t mind.
soon enough, you’re in his private messages, dramatically lamenting your latest loss in a game he’s only vaguely familiar with. könig listens— well, reads— as you rant, words spilling out at a rapid-fire pace, interspersed with keyboard smashing and increasingly incoherent frustration.
he’s not much for new releases, preferring to sink his teeth into a single game for months on end, grinding away until mastery is muscle memory. still-
one evening, without preamble, he sends you a link. his profile. in your game.
the response is immediate. ‘king!!! 🥺’ you type, followed by an onslaught of keyboard mashing that takes up half his screen.
he exhales a short laugh, shaking his head. he wonders if you know how easy it is to make him grin like an idiot.
the calls are… an unexpected development.
könig doesn’t make a habit to join server calls. ever. it’s not even about anxiety, not really, just preference. too many voices, too much noise. he never expected to be comfortable enough with anyone to want to be in a call, let alone initiate one.
but when you start gaming together, it becomes a necessity. typing mid-match isn’t exactly efficient, and you’re the first to point that out.
“okay, listen, king, i am not about to lose another ranked match just because you take five years to type ‘behind you.’” he huffs, amused, but relents.
soon enough, calls become second nature— no longer tied to gaming, no longer requiring an excuse. you always ask first, polite thing that you are, and könig always agrees. sometimes it’s an unspoken invitation, a simple “call?” sent in the quiet hours of the night. sometimes he beats you to it, pressing the button before he can think too hard about it.
one time, it’s you who calls. he answers on the first ring.
“are you- wait.” you pause, listening. there’s a distinct, rhythmic thud-thud-thud in the background. not footsteps, but something heavier, more controlled. “are you on a treadmill?”
“mm.” his voice is steady, unaffected. a quiet confirmation.
you gasp, and he can practically hear the amusement brewing in your tone. “oh my god! you actually work out? i thought you were lying.”
he snorts, breath hitching slightly as he adjusts his pace. “why would i lie about that?”
“i don’t know! you just- i mean, you sit at your desk all day, playing the same game for hours, and you’re always online at weird times-”
“you are describing yourself,” he points out.
“shut up.”
there’s a pause, and then, with the kind of mischief that only comes from knowing exactly how to push his buttons, you add, “prove it.”
he slows to a walk, swiping open his phone. a moment later, you receive a picture. him, flexing. the lighting is dim, but you can still make out the cut of his forearm, the solid shape of his bicep. just to humor you, he throws up a peace sign.
“not stolen from pinterest.”
you burst into laughter so sudden and bright that he finds himself smiling before he can stop it.
you learn what it means to miss könig pretty early on.
it happens suddenly. one day, he’s there, active as usual, sending the occasional meme, idling in voice chat even if he’s not talking. the next? radio silence. not even a ‘typing…’ indicator.
at first, you don’t think much of it. maybe he’s sleeping in. maybe he’s busy. time zones are weird. it’s fine.
but then a whole day passes. then another. you check his status— nothing. not offline, not do not disturb, just… gone.
curiosity turns into concern, and before you can think better of it, you ask in the server.
“hey, anyone heard from king?”
the response is casual. unbothered. “oh, dude’s probably deployed again.”
you blink. reread the message. “deployed?”
“yeah, king’s military.”
there’s no warning for the way that statement knocks the air from your lungs.
military? as in, real-life combat? as in, war zones and danger and actual life-or-death situations?
you stare at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure what to even say to that.
he doesn’t resurface for weeks.
you don’t realize how much you’ve come to rely on his presence until it’s gone. his absence is loud in the quiet moments of your day, in the spaces where a message from him would normally be.
you check the server out of habit, catching yourself before you can search his username. it’s stupid, you think. you barely know him. he’s just some guy from a discord server.
but the worry lingers.
and then, one day, just like that— he’s back.
his return is as unceremonious as his disappearance.
no dramatic entrance, no fanfare. just a simple “hello.”
you see it the moment he sends it. your stomach flips.
before you can stop yourself, you send a private message. “you’re alive.”
a moment passes. then— “yes.”
you frown. “you were gone for weeks.”
“i know.”
frustration bubbles up. “you could’ve said something.”
“i couldn’t.”
you hesitate, fingers tightening around your phone. you don’t know what you were expecting. an explanation? reassurance? but it’s clear you’re not getting one.
but then, a follow-up message. one that feels heavier, more careful. “i’m sorry.”
and just like that, the irritation dissolves.
it’s strange, the way things slip back into place after that.
he doesn’t talk about it, and you don’t ask. but something shifts. after that deployment, könig starts telling you when he’ll be gone. nothing in detail, really. just a simple, “i’ll be away for a bit.”
(it means everything.)
slowly, you get used to it. the rhythm of his presence and absence, the way your conversations pick up right where they left off, as if no time has passed at all.
it goes on for months. this… thing between the two of you. könig doesn’t hesitate to call it friendship, though he knows, knows, it’s something else entirely.
something with edges softer than companionship, something that lingers in the pauses between conversation, in the way you had whispered his real name under your breath when he revealed it to you.
he doesn’t rush to name it. doesn’t push. he lets it simmer until it feels inevitable.
in the end, it’s you who breaks first. technically. not that he’s keeping score. not that he would ever rub it in your face, especially when he was a mere day away from asking the very same thing.
it starts with a message. no preamble, no buildup. just a simple: hey, what are we?
könig sees it and reacts before thinking. presses the call button so fast his thumb practically smashes the screen. it rings once, twice—
“you didn’t even ask.” your voice comes through, half exasperated, half amused.
“didn’t want to give you time to unsend.” his own voice is steady, but his heart is anything but.
you huff. “bold assumption.”
“not really.”
a pause. he hears you shift, fabric rustling, the sound of you settling in. something warm and slow uncoils in his chest at the familiarity of it.
“so,” you start, hesitant. “what’s your answer?”
könig exhales, tipping his head back against his pillow. “do you want the truth?”
“obviously.”
he hums, considering. in reality, he’s known the truth for a while now. probably before you even realized it yourself.
“i like you,” he says, simple, sure. then, because he knows you, because he knows your deflections, your habit of teasing when you get nervous, he adds, “and i’m very aware you like me back.”
you sputter. “that’s a bold assumption-”
“not really,” he repeats, smug this time.
you groan, but you’re laughing, and it sends something bright flickering through him.
könig doesn’t ask for nudes. not once. he flirts, he teases, but never pushes. he knows your boundaries, respects them, never even hints at wanting more. if anything, he’s careful. too careful, sometimes. like he’s afraid of crossing a line you haven’t even drawn.
so when you finally send something, it’s your choice.
the first picture is tame. barely anything. it's a shot of your thighs, soft and warm in the low light of your room. nothing scandalous. nothing too revealing. but the second you hit send, your stomach twists with nerves.
könig sees it immediately. you watch the typing bubble appear, disappear, then appear again. and then— “fuck.”
you grin. “good?”
“you have no idea.”
it only escalates from there.
könig never requests more. but when you send it, when you want to send it, his reaction is worth it. he worships you through the screen, tells you how beautiful you are, how much he wishes he could touch you.
“pretty,” he texts once, attached to a voice message.
you press play. his breath is ragged, like he’s just run a mile. “pretty thing,” he repeats, voice tinged with something almost reverent. “you’re going to ruin me, love.”
the first time he sends you something, it takes him forever to work up to it.
you don’t ask for it. wouldn’t dream of pushing him into something he’s not comfortable with. könig isn’t shy, necessarily, but he’s private. you know that by now.
so when, out of nowhere, a picture pops up on your screen, your brain short-circuits.
it’s cropped carefully, but there’s no mistaking what you’re looking at— bare skin, broad shoulders, his stomach flexed just slightly.
“you like?” he texts after a minute.
you swallow hard. “yes.”
“good.” and then— “more?”
you bite your lip. “please.”
könig gets bolder after that.
he sends more. never too much, always teasing, always just enough to leave you wanting. sometimes it’s his hands, sometimes it’s his abs, the sharp cut of his hip bones, the waistband of his sweatpants hanging just low enough to make your mouth water.
one night, he sends a voice message instead. you press play.
at first, all you hear is his breathing. then, slowly, softly— your name, whispered through a noise that makes heat bloom low in your stomach.
“wish you were here,” he murmurs. “wish you could see what you do to me.”
the actual nudes don’t take long. not ar all. you’re both desperate. buzzing. könig’s the one who caves first.
it starts with your text. 10 p.m., the hour where inhibitions slip through grasping fingers like sand.
“wanna see your cock so bad, könig…” you murmur to your propped phone, cheek pressed to your pillow, another one stuffed against your chest like it might replace the hollow ache between your ribs. a distraction. a poor substitute.
on the other side of the screen, he exhales, dragging a hand down his face. fingers tensing, then flexing, like he needs something to hold onto. “love-” your whine cuts through before he can even think. instinctive. needy. his stomach clenches. “okay, okay. as long as you're sure.”
his heart pounds as he opens his photos. he doesn’t exactly collect dick pics, but there are a few kept locked away, private albums, a passcode he suddenly fumbles to enter.
three minutes. that’s how long it takes to choose the best one. the right angle. the right lighting. enough to make your breath hitch when you see it.
he hits send before he can overthink it, then leans back, phone balanced on his thigh, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
your phone buzzes. the photo pops up. you blink, breath hitching sharp in your throat.
“oh my god.” the words spill out of you before you can even think to stop them. “könig…” you stare at the screen, gaze locked on the thick, heavy length of him. the way it curves slightly, resting against his thigh like it’s weighed down by its own sheer mass. your breath stutters.
“you're so fucking big.” it barely registers that you've said it aloud.
“yeah? you like it?
“like it?” you shoot back. “i want it inside me.”
his breath leaves him in one harsh exhale. he shifts, hips rolling involuntarily like he can feel your words on his skin.
“can i see you too?” he sounds so polite. and then, as if that wasn’t enough to twist the knife deeper— “please?”
your stomach flips. you bite your lip, already reaching for your phone camera, the need to show him everything burning through you like wildfire.
your breath comes shallow as you slip your hand lower, phone steady in the other. the need is a pulse under your skin, throbbing, insistent. you pull the covers back just enough, the cool air prickling against the heat between your thighs.
the camera catches everything. your slightly parted thighs, your swollen clit, the wetness gushing out of your hole. it feels like baring a secret you’ve never told anyone. you hesitate for half a second, heart racing, then hit send.
the second the message disappears from your screen, it hits you— you just sent that to him.
on his end, könig freezes. the photo loads slow, torturous, and when it finally pops up, he feels his whole body tense, blood rushing south so fast it’s dizzying. “f-fuck, i need to be inside of you-”
sex with könig, if you can even call it that, at first, sneaks up on you. you never thought you’d be the kind of person who got into this. sending texts that made your face burn, leaving voice messages you could barely listen back to without cringing. but with him, it’s different. easier. less embarrassing because it’s him.
still, going from nudes to actual phone sex takes some time.
“gonna sleep,” könig texts you once, attached to a blurry photo of his bed.
“alone?” you send back, teasing.
the typing bubble appears. then disappears. then— “obviously.”
you grin at your phone, satisfied. but then— “but i could use some company.”
you stare at the message longer than you’d like to admit.
didn't tell him that you had woken up panting, arousal between your thighs, könig’s name on your lips too many times. didn't tell him that you had pressed your hand against your clit during your calls, to the sound of his voice, to his laugh, to the quiet, wrecked groans he sometimes lets out when he stretches after a workout.
in the past, you hadn't told him how many times you’d dreamt of him because you thought you'd scare him off, kept your mouth shut about the images that haunted you at night, of his hands pinning you down, his mouth at your throat.
but you wanted to.
and tonight, you would.
the conversation turns slow. lazy. heavy with something unspoken.
“you sound tired,” könig murmurs, voice warm. he’s always like this late at night. soft, unhurried, like he’s sinking into the sound of you.
you swallow hard. your skin feels too hot, too tight. “i’m not.”
a pause. then, lower— “what is it, love?”
you hesitate, pressing your lips together. it’s too much. too embarrassing. but he knows something is different.
“talk to me. tell me what you’re thinking.”
you let out a shaky breath. “i had a dream about you.”
the silence stretches.
you can hear him inhale. you bite your lip. force yourself to continue. “i think about you. when i-” you stop. you can’t say it. can’t admit it.
könig exhales through his nose, like he’s trying to steady himself. “when you what?”
your stomach is a knot of nerves. but you want this. want him. so you take a breath, close your eyes. “when i touch myself.”
his breath stutters.
“fuck.” the word is almost a groan. your pulse hammers, blood rushing through your ear as heat pools in your stomach.
“könig,” you whisper.
he exhales, whispers his next words like a beg, “say it again.”
you swallow. “i touch myself to you.”
“i do too.”
your stomach flips. “what?”
“i-” he cuts himself off with a quiet curse, like he's frustrated with himself for hesitating. “i touch myself to you too.”
your breath catches. heat blooms in your chest, spreading down your spine. “könig-”
“all the time.” his voice is lower now, raw, like he's aching with it. “when i can't sleep. when you're on call with me, laughing, teasing me. when i wake up hard in the middle of the night and can’t stop thinking about stuffing you full.”
your body is burning again, despite the aftershocks still rolling through you. you're about to choke out a reply when you hear it— the rustle of fabric, the faint creak of bedsprings, the wet slide of skin on skin.
“are you-”
a sharp inhale. “yes.”
“let me hear you,” you whisper, thinking about his pretty, pretty cock. uncut, soft skin stretched over the flushed head, the way it would slide back when he’s fully hard, revealing the deep pink of his leaking tip. the veins that wind down the length, standing out against the pale skin
there's a pause, a hitch in his breath. then, slowly— “okay.”
there's a small rustle, könig adjusting himself on the bed. the faint sound of him pumping lotion on his hand. a quiet sigh. and then, a low grunt as the warmth of his palm wraps around his cock.
könig looks down at his hand, eyes half-lidded, hips bucking up in small thrusts. he imagines your pussy instead of his fist, hot and tight and so fucking warm, fluttering around his length as he pushes in, spearing you open with a cock too big for your little cunny.
he knows you’d cry for him, little gasps and hiccupped moans, squirming beneath him as he bullies his cock deeper, past that tight ring of muscle into the slick, warm clutch of your cunt.
“a-ah- fuck, ah-”
your breath stutters at the sounds, hips grinding against your palm. “wish i could see you.”
“on cam?”
you groan, squeezing your thighs around the pillow in-between your legs, grinding your clit against the material softly. “yes, please..”
fuck, you're so polite.
#könig#könig call of duty#könig x reader#call of duty#x reader#cod mw2#cod modern warfare#cod x reader#cod x y/n#könig cod#könig mw2#konig x reader#konig cod#konig call of duty#konig mw2#konig x you#konig x y/n
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Fourth Time’s the Charm
Max Verstappen x Norris!Reader
Summary: it starts, as all the best things do, with a bet (“If I win the race tomorrow and take the championship, you owe me a favor. Anything I want.”)
Note: thank you so much to @altxanna for the fantastic idea
The lights of the Las Vegas strip pulse outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of Max’s penthouse, but neither of you cares. You’re both tangled up in each other under the covers, limbs lazily draped and intertwined. The TV is playing some action movie you both stopped paying attention to an hour ago, the volume low, serving as nothing more than background noise.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” you say, your voice soft as you trace a finger along Max’s arm, admiring the way his muscles shift beneath his skin.
“Just thinking,” he murmurs, resting his head against the pillow. His accent wraps around the words in a way that feels so familiar it’s comforting.
“About the race?” You ask, already knowing the answer.
Max turns his head to look at you, his blue eyes catching the dim light from the window. “What else would I be thinking about?”
You hum, tilting your head in mock thought. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe about how your girlfriend is ridiculously good-looking? Or how lucky you are to have me?”
His lips quirk into a smile, the kind that’s as much in his eyes as it is on his face. “You’re right. I should focus on what really matters.” He shifts slightly, leaning closer to you. “You’re ridiculously good-looking, and I’m very lucky.”
You laugh and shove his shoulder lightly. “That’s better.”
He catches your hand before you can pull it away, his fingers lacing with yours. His expression grows more serious as he says, “But yes, I’m thinking about the race. I’m thinking about winning.”
You roll your eyes at the sheer confidence in his tone. “You think you’re going to win.”
Max raises an eyebrow. “Think? I know I’m going to win. You don’t believe in me?”
“Oh, I believe in you,” you say, smirking. “I just also believe in my brother. And if Lando finishes ahead of you, the title fight goes to Qatar.”
He groans dramatically, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “Don’t remind me. The idea of dragging this out another week …”
“What, scared Lando might pull it off?”
He narrows his eyes at you, feigning offense. “Scared? Me? No. I’m just saying it would be … inconvenient.”
“Uh-huh.” You grin, shifting onto your side to face him fully. “I don’t know, Max. Lando’s been looking pretty good lately. He might surprise you tomorrow.”
Max’s hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re really going to sit here, in my bed, and tell me your brother is going to beat me?”
“I’m just saying it’s possible,” you tease.
He shakes his head, but there’s a spark of amusement in his eyes. “Alright, then. If you’re so confident, let’s make it interesting.”
Your eyebrows lift. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”
“A bet,” he says simply.
You prop yourself up on your elbow, intrigued. “A bet?”
Max nods, his smirk growing. “If I win the race tomorrow and take the championship, you owe me a favor. Anything I want.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
You consider it for a moment, then ask, “And if Lando finishes ahead of you?”
“Then you get a favor. Anything you want.”
You bite your lip to keep from smiling too broadly. “You really think you’re that unbeatable, huh?”
“I know I am,” he says, his confidence practically radiating off him.
“Alright, Verstappen,” you say, holding out your hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
He clasps your hand in his, his grip firm but warm. “Deal.”
You let your hand linger in his for a moment before pulling it away. “So, what’s this big favor you’re going to ask for if you win?”
He leans back against the pillows, his smirk turning devilish. “You’ll find out when I win.”
“If you win,” you correct, lying back down beside him.
“I’ll win,” he says confidently, his voice low as his hand trails down your back.
You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“And yet, here you are,” he says, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest.
You can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and for a moment, the room falls quiet. It’s peaceful in a way you don’t get to experience often, and you savor it.
“You know,” you say after a while, your voice quiet, “if Lando does win tomorrow, it’s not because you’re not good enough. He’s just …”
“Your brother?” Max finishes, his tone teasing.
You laugh softly. “Yeah, that too. But he’s been working so hard for this, Max. You both have. It’s … complicated.”
He runs a hand through your hair, his touch gentle. “I know. But on the track, it’s not complicated. It’s just me, the car, and the finish line. No brothers, no girlfriends. Just racing.”
You tilt your head to look up at him. “And what about after the race?”
“After the race …” He pauses, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “After the race, I’m just me. And you’re just you. That doesn’t change, no matter what.”
You don’t respond right away, letting his words sink in. Then, with a small smile, you say, “You’re really not scared at all, are you?”
“Of Lando? No,” he says, his voice light. “Of you? A little.”
You laugh, shoving him lightly. “Good. You should be.”
He catches your hand again, this time pressing a kiss to your palm. “I’ll remember that.”
You let out a soft sigh, your body relaxing against his. “You’d better get some sleep, Verstappen. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
He hums in agreement, but instead of pulling away, he leans in, pressing his lips to your neck. “One more kiss,” he murmurs against your skin.
You close your eyes, your breath hitching slightly. “Just one?”
He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his smirk returning. “Maybe two.”
You shake your head, laughing softly as he pulls you back under the covers.
And for now, the world outside doesn’t matter.
***
The final lap of the Las Vegas Grand Prix feels endless. The crowd’s roar grows louder with every corner, drowning out even the hum of the engines. Your hands are clammy as you grip the edge of your seat in the Red Bull garage, your eyes glued to the screen. Max’s car slices through the neon-lit streets of Vegas, and Lando is right behind him.
It’s close. Too close.
“Come on, Lando,” you mutter under your breath, though your heart isn’t entirely in it.
Max is P5. Lando is P6. A single position apart. If it stays this way, the championship is Max’s.
You’re not sure who you’re rooting for anymore.
The chequered flag waves as Max crosses the line, and your both heart drops and soars. P5. It’s done.
“MAX VERSTAPPEN, YOU ARE THE 2024 WORLD CHAMPION!” GP’s voice explodes over the team radio, his excitement nearly incomprehensible.
Max’s laughter comes through the speakers, unrestrained and wild. It’s a sound you know all too well — relief, joy, triumph all rolled into one.
“Yessss!” Max shouts. “That was incredible! Thank you so much for this season!”
You can’t help the smile tugging at your lips, even as the realization sinks in. He won. He really won.
The camera cuts to the Red Bull garage, where the team is in chaos — cheers, hugs, champagne spraying already. Christian adjusts his headset, leaning in to speak.
“Max, congratulations, mate. What an unbelievable season. You’ve done it again.”
“Thanks, Christian. Four in a row — unreal.”
You watch the screen as Max’s car slows on the cooldown lap, weaving slightly in celebration. You know him well enough to see it, even through the helmet — the ease in his shoulders, the grin he must be wearing.
Then his voice cuts through the radio again, this time steadier, more purposeful.
“And just so you know, I’m calling in my favor now.”
Christian’s confused laugh is audible even through the crackling radio. “Your favor? What are you talking about?”
You freeze, the air catching in your lungs.
Max chuckles, low and mischievous. “I had a bet with my girlfriend. I told her I’d win tonight. She owes me a favor, and I know exactly what I want.”
Your stomach flips, a mixture of dread and anticipation.
GP’s voice comes through, confused but amused. “Are we supposed to know what this favor is?”
“No, no,” Max says, his tone casual but firm. “But you’ll find out soon enough.”
Christian presses again, trying to pry it out of him. “Come on, Max. What’s the favor?”
There’s a pause, the kind that feels deliberate, like Max is savoring the moment.
“I want to marry her. Tonight. Right here in Vegas.”
The words hit you like a bolt of lightning, your pulse racing.
GP bursts out laughing. “Wait, what? Are you serious?”
“Dead serious,” Max replies, his voice steady, no hint of hesitation.
You sit frozen, your heart thundering in your chest. Did he just-
“Max,” Christian says, a mixture of disbelief and laughter in his tone, “does she even know about this?”
“She does now,” Max says, and you can hear the grin in his voice.
The team radio falls silent for a moment, and the TV commentary fills the void as the podium finishers begin to line up. But you barely register any of it.
Max is proposing. No — not proposing. Declaring.
The camera pans to his car as he pulls into parc fermé, the four-time World Champion. The team swarms him, pulling him from the car, hoisting him into the air. The crowd’s cheers are deafening, but all you can think about is his voice in your head.
“I want to marry her. Tonight.”
You barely notice when someone taps your shoulder, Max’s PR officer. “You should get down to the celebrations,” she says, her voice brimming with excitement. “He’ll want you there.”
Your legs feel like jelly as you stand, weaving through the sea of Red Bull personnel to get to the barriers.
***
When you finally see him, his helmet is off, his face flushed from the race and grinning so wide it’s like he’s glowing. He spots you instantly, cutting through the crowd like no one else exists.
“Max,” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.
“You heard me,” he says, his voice low but firm, his eyes locked on yours. “I want to marry you tonight.”
You stare at him, still trying to catch up. “You’re insane.”
He steps closer, his hand finding yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Probably. But I’m serious.”
“Max, you just won a world championship,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “You’re supposed to be celebrating, not-”
“I am celebrating,” he interrupts, his voice softening. “With you. And I don’t want to wait anymore. I’ve known for years that I want you. Why wait?”
Your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest. “This is insane. People don’t just get married in Vegas on a whim.”
He tilts his head, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “People do it all the time, actually.”
“Max-”
“I love you,” he says, his voice dropping lower. “I love you, and I want to start the rest of my life with you. Tonight. Right now.”
You can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you — the team, the media, everyone waiting for your reaction. But in this moment, it’s just the two of you.
“Say yes,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours. “Say yes, and let me win you, too.”
You laugh, a shaky, breathless sound that comes out more like a sob. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love me for it.”
You take a deep breath, your hand tightening around his. “Fine,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”
The smile that breaks across his face is pure joy, unfiltered and blinding. He pulls you into his arms, lifting you off the ground as the team around you erupts into cheers.
“Alright, Verstappen,” you say, laughing as he spins you. “You’ve got your favor. Let’s get married.”
***
The wedding chapel is everything you expected it to be: over-the-top, tacky in the most endearing way, and bathed in flickering neon lights. A bright red Cadillac is parked out front, its headlights beaming into the frigid Vegas night. Inside, the carpet is a deep, gaudy red, and plastic flowers line the aisle. The faint smell of cigarettes lingers in the air, clinging to the cheap velvet curtains.
It’s surreal, to say the least.
“This is insane,” you mumble, standing in a side room with Lando, who’s staring at you like he’s still trying to process what’s happening.
“You think this is insane?” He replies, pointing vaguely toward the chapel. “What about the fact that you’re marrying Max Verstappen in a Vegas chapel at 3 a.m. with a guy dressed as Elvis officiating?”
You groan, adjusting the makeshift bouquet of roses someone from the Red Bull team had pulled together. “Don’t remind me.”
Lando smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t think I have to. This is going to live in my head rent-free for the rest of my life.”
You shoot him a look. “You don’t have to be here, you know.”
“Are you kidding?” He folds his arms, the grin never leaving his face. “I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Besides, who else is going to walk you down the aisle?”
Your stomach flips at the thought. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Lando softens a little, stepping closer. “Hey,” he says, his voice quieter now, “you sure about this? I mean, it’s Max. And Vegas. And Elvis.”
You bite your lip, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “I’m sure.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you say, meeting his eyes. “I love him, Lando. He’s ridiculous, and he drives me insane, but I love him.”
Lando watches you for a moment, then sighs dramatically. “Well, I guess if anyone’s crazy enough to keep up with Max, it’s you.”
“Gee, thanks,” you say dryly, but your smile betrays you.
There’s a knock on the door, and one of the chapel staff pokes their head in. “We’re ready for you.”
Your heart leaps into your throat.
Lando claps his hands together, his grin back in full force. “Alright, let’s do this.”
***
The chapel is even more ridiculous than you’d imagined. A man dressed as Elvis stands at the altar, adjusting his oversized sunglasses and strumming a guitar idly as he waits. Max is already there, looking completely at ease, as if this is just another podium ceremony.
When he sees you, his face lights up, and any lingering nerves you had melt away.
“You ready?” Lando whispers, offering his arm.
“As I’ll ever be,” you whisper back, looping your arm through his.
The music starts — a surprisingly heartfelt rendition of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” sung by Elvis — and you can’t help but laugh under your breath.
“You’re walking down the aisle to Elvis,” Lando says, shaking his head. “Unreal.”
“Shut up,” you mutter, though you’re smiling.
The walk feels like it takes forever and no time at all. Max’s gaze is fixed on you the entire time, his expression soft and unguarded in a way you don’t see often. By the time you reach him, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.
Lando hands you off with an exaggerated sigh. “Take care of her. She’s the only one who can put up with you.”
“Don’t worry,” Max says, smirking as he shakes Lando’s hand. “I plan to.”
Lando steps back, but not before whispering, “If you hurt her, I’ll crash you out next season.”
Max laughs, then turns back to you, his hands finding yours.
“You look amazing,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.
“I look ridiculous,” you whisper back.
His grin widens. “Even better.”
Elvis clears his throat, drawing your attention. “Alright, folks, let’s get this show on the road!”
The ceremony is exactly as absurd as you’d expected, and yet somehow, it feels perfect.
“Dearly beloved,” Elvis begins, his voice smooth and practiced, “we are gathered here tonight to witness the union of Max and …” He pauses, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.
You realize no one ever told him your name.
“Uh,” you startle back to reality for a moment, “Y/N.”
“Max and Y/N,” Elvis continues smoothly, as if this sort of thing happens all the time.
He launches into the ceremony, peppering in car-themed metaphors and Elvis song references.
“Marriage,” he says at one point, “is a lot like a road trip. Sometimes it’s smooth sailing, sometimes you hit a few potholes, but as long as you’ve got each other, you’ll always find your way back to Graceland.”
You glance at Max, who’s barely holding back a laugh.
“Are you laughing at our wedding vows?” You whisper.
“I’m laughing at the potholes,” he whispers back.
Elvis continues, undeterred.
When it’s time for the personal vows, Max surprises you.
“I know this is all … unconventional,” he says, his hands still holding yours. “But that’s us, isn’t it? Unconventional. From the first time we met, I knew you were different. You don’t just keep up with me; you challenge me. You push me to be better, on and off the track. And you put up with all my nonsense, which is honestly impressive.”
You laugh, tears stinging your eyes.
“I promise to always be your biggest fan, even when you’re cheering for your brother,” Max continues, his voice softer now. “I promise to always fight for you, always support you, and always love you, no matter how crazy life gets.”
You’re not sure when the tears started falling, but they’re there, hot and fast.
“Your turn,” Elvis says, nodding at you.
You take a shaky breath, your voice trembling. “Max, you drive me crazy. You’re stubborn, competitive, and impossible to argue with. But you’re also kind, loyal, and the most passionate person I’ve ever met. You make me laugh when I don’t want to, and you make me believe in things I never thought I could.”
His eyes soften, and you squeeze his hands tighter.
“I promise to always stand by your side, even when you’re impossible. I promise to love you, challenge you, and never let you win a bet without a fight.”
Max grins, and the rest of the room seems to fade away.
When Elvis finally declares you husband and wife, it feels like the world stops.
“You may now kiss your bride,” he says with a flourish.
Max doesn’t hesitate, pulling you close and kissing you like the world outside doesn’t exist. The room erupts into cheers, Lando’s voice loudest among them.
When you finally pull away, Max leans his forehead against yours, his voice barely a whisper.
“We did it.”
You smile, your hands resting on his chest. “Yeah. We did.”
And just like that, Max Verstappen is your husband.
***
The rest of the night passes in a blur of laughter, chaos, and an overwhelming sense of unreality. The “reception” is cobbled together on the fly, with Red Bull team members and an assortment of drivers spilling out of limos and taxis into a nearby lounge they commandeer for the celebration.
Max stays close to you the entire time, his hand resting on your lower back or entwined with yours. Every time you glance at him, he’s already looking at you, his expression so full of love it makes your chest ache.
Eventually, you both slip away from the commotion, winding your way back to Max’s penthouse. The city hums below, the neon lights still pulsing with energy, but inside, everything feels quiet. Peaceful.
You’re curled up together in bed, the chaos of the night left behind, when Max finally speaks. “So,” he says, breaking the comfortable silence, “are you going to tell me what your favor would’ve been if you had won the bet?”
You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I don’t think you’re ready for that, Verstappen.”
His brows lift, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, now you have to tell me.”
You tilt your head, feigning deep thought. “Well, it would’ve been something big. Something life-changing.”
His grin widens, and he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Life-changing, huh? What, were you going to make me switch teams? Retire early?”
You smirk, letting the pause hang in the air just long enough for him to grow impatient. “A ring.”
Max blinks, caught off guard for a split second. “A ring?”
“Mm-hmm.” You trace lazy circles on his chest, pretending not to notice his stunned expression. “I was going to ask for a ring. But you, being Max Verstappen, had to be a few laps ahead and beat me to it. Like usual.”
His laughter bursts out, warm and unrestrained. “You’re telling me you were going to propose to me?”
You shrug, unable to keep the playful smile off your face. “What can I say? I wanted to beat you at your own game.”
Max shifts onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you fully. His grin is impossibly wide, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement and something deeper. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You married me,” you point out, grinning back.
“I did,” he agrees, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “And I’d do it again. But I have to say, I think I prefer this version. Me proposing. You saying yes. Vegas. Elvis.”
You laugh, swatting his chest lightly. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”
“Not a chance.” He’s still smiling, but his voice softens, turning serious. “I love you, you know. And I don’t care if it’s Vegas or a ten-minute ceremony or some ridiculous bet. This — us — feels right. It always has.”
Your teasing expression falters, replaced by something softer. “I love you, too. Even if you are insufferable.”
He chuckles, pulling you closer. “Insufferable and married. To you. Forever.”
You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. “Forever, huh?”
“Forever,” he repeats firmly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “And just for the record, I would’ve said yes if you’d proposed first.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His lips brush against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m glad I won this time.”
You laugh against his mouth, your arms winding around his neck as you pull him closer. “Don’t get used to it, Verstappen.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mrs. Verstappen.”
The name catches you off guard, and your heart stutters in your chest. Mrs. Verstappen. It’s ridiculous and perfect and makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time.
“You like that?” He asks, clearly noticing your reaction.
You bite your lip, nodding. “I think I could get used to it.”
His grin returns, smug and full of mischief. “Good. Because you don’t have a choice now.”
You shake your head, laughing as you lean into him, letting the weight of the night settle around you. The city lights outside keep shining, the noise of Las Vegas carrying on far below, but in this moment, it’s just the two of you.
And that’s all that matters.
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ALASTOR X READER
~Anyway you want me baby~
Taking Angel’s Poison and giving it a spin.
Porn with no plot? Slight Degradation kink. Pet play. Orgasm denial.
You made your choice to deal with the devil and now you’re at his mercy
No one knew why you were always with the red demon. When the Radio Demon came back from his ‘sabbatical’ he had a pretty little thing by his side.
If people saw you, Alastor wasn’t too far behind.
There were many rumors.
many think you were just his little errand girl.
others thought you were the reason he was gone.
but oh…how wrong they were…
You were a poor, underpaid, and abused dancer. you had met Alastor when he had dealt a deal with Husker in the club you worked.
he had peaked your interest when you witness him strip Husker of everything.
he had power. Power was the only thing in this damned place that got you anywhere.
and you wanted that power.
with his help, you could be and have anything.
and so you made the mistake approaching him.
“I want to make a deal” you said confidently.
his sharp smile widened as he quirked an eyebrow at you.
”what would you give me my dear?”
You couldn’t offer him money. So you took a deep breathe and gave him your best flirty smile “I’ll be yours. Anything you want”
his clawed finger caught your chin, angling your face to bring his face closer “you sure about that my dear?”
you nodded and just like that; you had struck a deal.
but this deal wasn’t what you thought.
you thought maybe he would have you do his bidding, or request you do weird shit.
No.
Alastor had found you mildly amusing that you would willingly strike a deal with him. So he took it upon himself to make a special deal with you.
“What a pretty pet you make dear”
your jaw was aching as you swallowed his dick. You whined at his words. You had been doing this for hours and practically had a puddle of your slick underneath you.
Alastor was sitting above you, leg on your back and purred as you gagged when he pushed your head down further.
you looked so pretty with your lips wrapped around him.
he held you fast in place with your leash wrapped around his hand.
feeling your momentum slow, he slide out of your throat with a pop.
he wrangled you til you were in his lap. The sound of static hummed in the air as he positioned you right above his spit covered dick.
You whimpered in embarrassment as he toyed with your throbbing clit.
he chuckled as your hips sought after his fingers before pushing you down onto his member.
you hissed at the inrustion and let out a moan as he slowly bounced you.
he tilted his head, watching your pretty face contort in pleasure.
“Who said you could feel good dear?”
you gasped as he set a rough pace. You felt the leash tighten around your neck, restricting your breathing as he mangled your insides.
”A-Alastor!”you cried out as he hit that sweet spot inside you.
all you wanted was relief.
his smile was vicious “do my pretty pet want to cum?”
he had asked you this multiple times and you knew what the result was going to be, but frantically you nodded as you hoped he would give you mercy.
but what fun would that be?
Alastor chuckled deeply as he thrusted harshly inside you.
he loved how pliant you were.
you would do anything to please him just to get some relief.
unfortunately for you, that just wasn’t how things were.
he decided when you got pleasure.
he let out a growl as he felt your inside clench around him
”don’t you dare”
you felt tears well in your eyes. You wanted to be good.
but fuck it felt so good.
you let out a high pitch whine when you felt that tight coil in your belly.
”please please please please” you begged.
he flipped you onto your belly and pulled the leash tight, wringing your head back, causing you to gasp as he hovered over you.
Admits his harsh thrusts he placed a soft kiss to your forehead
”how you want me dearest?”
your eyes clenched as he quickened his pace
You were so close.
he hummed and before that coil could snap…
he pulled out and you felt the warmth of his cum spilling on your ass.
you groaned and glared at his smiling face.
he scooped a little off your ass and smeared your lips
”lets try again shall we?” You sucked his fingers clean and whine when he released your leash enough for you to turn around and with only the thought of being able to cum, you spreaded your legs for him again.
Alastor’s ever sharp grin widened at you.
”and how do pretty sluts like it dear?”
“Any way you want baby”
what a good little pet he made you…
#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor the radio demon#smut#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x reader smut#alastor smut#alastor x y/n
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Akademiya Dottore x reader where it's both their first time? :^3
YES. MORE DOTTIE WHOOPEE
dottore x reader — uncharted territories
pairing: dottore x reader
genre: fluff, smut
warnings: nsfw! 18+ content! minors dni
word count: 1.3k
zandik had never been particularly interested in relationships or physical intimacy. his focus was always on his research and his goals at the akademiya, and those things had been enough for him. but there was something about you, something that made him want to break from his usual detached, emotionless demeanor. despite his lack of experience, he found himself wanting to be close to you in a way he didn't quite understand.
it was strange— he could usually predict everything with mathematical precision, but not with you. you were a puzzle, one that he wanted to solve. when you first made your intentions clear, he didn't quite know how to react. he'd read about these things, of course, but theory was nothing compared to the reality of your presence, your eyes locked on his with a mix of desire and curiosity.
the first time he touched you, it felt... foreign. his fingertips brushed against your skin tentatively, unsure of what to do. but when you leaned into him, giving him a gentle, encouraging smile, everything seemed to click into place. he kissed you then, but it wasn't like any kiss he'd imagined. it was messy, unrefined, and it sent something deep within him stirring.
you were inexperienced as well. your eagerness was evident, and yet, he could sense the flicker of hesitation in you too. maybe it was because he wasn't as forthcoming with his emotions as some would expect. maybe it was because you knew he was also new to this, but that only made you more patient with him.
"i don’t know what i’m doing either, but…" you murmured against his lips. "we'll take it slow."
he nodded, though his chest tightened at the thought of what was to come. as much as he tried to focus on the research and the theories in his head, he couldn't ignore the way his body responded to you. when you stripped him down, your hands moving over his chest and down to his waist, zandik felt a pulse of something deep inside him. he wasn't just that emotionless akademiya student anymore, not letting a single person into his heart.
his hands gripped the sheets beneath you, his heart hammering as your touch became more insistent. he had to admit, he was excited, though the unfamiliar sensation left him tense, uncertain of what to do next.
but you were patient with him. you kissed him slowly, your hands roaming over his body as if to reassure him. zandik's mind raced. everything about this was so foreign, and yet... it was what he'd been missing.
"just relax," you whispered against his ear, your voice like a soothing balm to his nerves.
he nodded, attempting to quiet his thoughts. but it was difficult. everything was new to him. you were new to him.
he could feel his pulse quickening as your hands wandered lower, exploring his body with a level of familiarity he wasn't used to. he was used to controlling things, to being the one who had all the answers. but now, as your hand slipped between his legs, he was forced to confront something he hadn't anticipated— he was just as unprepared as he felt.
"it's okay," you murmured, your voice soft but filled with reassurance as your fingers gently brushed over him. "we're doing this together."
he almost couldn't comprehend how easy it felt with you. he wasn't used to being cared for like this, wasn't used to someone taking the lead and making him feel like this was a mutual experience, not something he had to analyze and dissect.
you leaned back, your eyes dark with desire, and there was no mistaking the way your body shifted, preparing for what was about to happen. zandik felt his throat tighten, his eyes falling to where you were positioned just above him, and for a brief, stunned moment, he realized how gorgeous you looked on top of him.
your gaze flicked to his, and the intensity in your eyes made his heart race. "ready?" you asked softly, the uncertainty in your voice barely masked.
he could only nod, his lips parted as he gazed at you. he could feel the heat building between you, the tension thick and undeniable. it wasn't like any of the books or articles he'd read about. no, this was something far more visceral, something he couldn't dissect or understand.
when you finally sank down onto him, zandik gasped, his body jerking slightly in surprise. his hands gripped the sheets harder, his chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.
"oh... archons…" he whispered, voice hoarse.
you were tight, impossibly so, and zandik could feel every inch of your body wrapping around him. he had heard from other much vulgar scholars about how it feels, but nothing could have prepared him for this. it was overwhelming, and he had to pause, his body frozen as he adjusted to the sensation of being inside you.
"breathe," you whispered, your voice low and calming. "take your time."
he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady himself. you were so warm, so soft around him, and his body was responding, despite his attempts to remain composed. he felt a strange tension building inside him, a pressure that he couldn't quite control.
when you began to move, slowly at first, zandik gasped again, his hands shaking as they rested on your hips. his grip tightened as you slid up and down, and he felt himself lose control with every movement. he wasn't prepared for how easily his body reacted to yours, but he couldn't stop himself.
the tension inside him grew unbearable, and he could feel himself throb as the pressure inside him intensified. he tried to steady himself, tried to remain logical, but all of his previous thoughts had been swept away in the heat of the moment. the sensation of you tightening around him was maddening, and he couldn't think of anything but the way you felt, the way your body moved against his.
he could feel the knot in his stomach tightening, the overwhelming sensation threatening to take over him. "i... i don't...," he muttered, but before he could finish his thought, the pressure inside him snapped.
with a choked gasp, zandik came, his whole body tensing as the orgasm hit him. but even in the midst of his release, he didn't stop. he felt the wetness of his release mixing with the heat of your body, and he was so lost in the feeling, he barely registered that he had cum inside you.
you kept riding him, savoring the feeling of him, chasing the same high he had found— and not long after, you too had finished.
you both collapsed onto each other, the room full of soft pants and sighs. as his body trembled in the aftermath, he gasped for breath, feeling disoriented, confused, and yet... strangely satisfied.
"that was perfect," you whispered, your voice soft as you rested your head on his chest.
he didn't reply at first. he was still trying to make sense of everything that had just happened, still processing the overwhelming sensations that had flooded his mind. but eventually, he looked down at you, his lips curling up into the slightest of smiles.
"we'll... need to try again," he muttered, voice low, and filled with something like determination. he didn't know what to expect next, but he knew that whatever it was, it would be worth exploring with you.
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can’t stop thinking about nanami putting you in a full nelson omg :(( (not proofread btw sorry <//3)
the first time he brought it up to you you were very intrigued, until you did a quick google search and saw wrestling images??? after he helped you find the correct images your interest peaked once more—i mean how could it not???!!the mental image of his big n beefy arms manhandling you in a such a position had the cogs in your brain turning and your pussy dripping with excitement.
“cmon let’s do it now now now!” you squealed tossing your phone to the side. you jumped into nanami’s buff arms, peppering his jaw and neck in glossy kisses. kento chuckled lowly, giving your plush ass a rough squeeze. such an eager little thing you were.
“now hang on baby i think you should stretch yourself out a little bit before we get started, don’t want my sweet thing to get a cramp hm?” he pet your hair softly, looking directly into your eyes to make sure you understood him. you let out a dramatic sigh and nodded, making kento smile at your obedience.
within minutes nanami had you strip down to your panties, knees digging into the plushness of the bed while your hands laid folded in your lap. “don’t look so serious little dove, we can have a little fun while we do it,” he chuckled, running his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling the digit away when he saw you tried to suckle on it.
nanami pecked you on the lips three times before slowly pushing you back, slipping your panties off once your back was to the mattress. he took this opportunity to admire your body in its most vulnerable state. he looked at every curve, every scar, every stretch mark with so much love in his eyes it made your eyes glassy. “you’re so beautiful….most beautiful woman i ever laid eyes on. god could strike me down right now and i’d be happy with this being the last thing i see,” he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, running his surprisingly soft hands up your thick thighs.
he slowly trailed his hands to the back of your knees, pushing them up to your chest. “fuck would you look at that….already soaking for me,” kento pushed his thumb between your soaked folds, covering the digit in your essence before bringing it to his watering mouth.
“alright m’gonna push your legs back a little more okay?” he waited until you verbally answered him before pushing your knees back until they were practically touching your ears. in all honesty nanami knew this shit was light work for you and he could manhandle you into any position he wanted with ease—he just wanted an excuse to eat your pussy hehe.
nanami couched down, spreading your pussy lips with his thumbs before spitting on your swollen clit. you gasped, clenching around nothing as he spit on your pussy once more. “how you doin’ up there gorgeous?” nanami spoke softly, chuckling lowly at the way you tried bucking your pussy into his face.
“s’easy babe! i can handle it just please do somethingggg!” you whined, kicking your feet in the most precious way possible. without a word nanami wrapped his lips around your clit, humming at the sweet yet tangy taste that is you. “oh! f-fuck kento,” you mewled, bringing your hand down to mess up his perfectly styled blonde locks. nanami slapped your hand away, grunting against your pussy as a way to tell you to keep your hands to yourself.
that’s how you both stayed—nanami on his knees devouring your drooling pussy while you held your legs back with shaky hands. “d-do it side to side again…yeah like th-that! oh my—!” you were cut off by kento swiping his tongue side to side with vigor, your legs beginning to shake, signaling your nearing orgasm.
“so fuckin’ sweet,” nanami growled, gripping onto the soft flesh of your ass cheeks before maneuvering your body up and down on his tongue. for such a prim and polished man he sure was a messy fucking eater.
the slurping noises coming from below you would’ve disgusted anyone but you personally?? oh it was your favorite. the only time nanami really lost himself was when his head was between your thighs, so you made sure to cherish every sloppy lick, slurp, and glob of spit he gave to your soaked pussy.
“i-i’m cumminggg,” you threw your head back in pure bliss as your orgasm washed over you, wave after wave of cumming hitting kento’s awaiting tongue. nanami lapped at your pussy a few more times, giving your clit a cheeky little suck before letting go with a pop!
nanami cleared his throat and stood up, loosening the tie on his neck. “you ready for me?” he asked, squeezing his achingly hard dick through his slacks. if you looked close enough you could see the tiniest wet patch where his tip was.
you made quick work to sit up and undo his belt, your mouth watering at the thought of sucking him off before he ravaged you. “slow down honey s’no rush yeah?” he cooed down at you, taking your face in his hands. you nodded slowly, tossing his belt to the side and undoing the zipper. “lemme….lemme suck you off a little please? need it kento,” you pouted, nuzzling your face into his toned stomach. nanami smiled down at you and brought his hand to your face, smushing your cheeks together before giving you a very sloppy kiss.
“later darling i can’t wait to be inside you another minute,” he gave your lips another kiss, smoothening the furrow in your brows with his thumb.
a few minutes later….
“ready for me my love?” nanami grunted, slapping the tip of his cock against your pussy. your back was snugly pressed against him while his strong arms held the backs of your knees up. “y-yes kento m’ready for you,” nanami wasted no time lifting your body until his tip was poking at your entrance, hissing at just how fucking wet you were. you both moaned in unison as he slowly sunk you down on his cock.
“f-fuck sweetheart you gotta ease up. cmon ease that pretty pussy up for me,” he took advantage of your exposed neck and began to kiss and suck on the most sensitive parts making you whine. he encouragement worked like a charm and soon he was almost entirely inside you. “yeah…yeah there we go,” you squeaked when nanami slammed body down, finally filling you to the brim. fuck you felt so warm and tight around him there was no way he’d last long.
“d-don’t go slow ken, fuck me till i pass out pleaseeee i need it,” you cried, clenching around him. nanami hissed and without another word began a brutal pace, the sheer roughness taking you aback. “yessss f-fuck kenny!” you squealed, your head falling back on his shoulder. in this position the tip of his cock repeatedly hit that spongy spot inside you that had you seeing stars. your wetness already began to soak both of your guys’ thighs, a sharp slapping sound echoing throughout the room from it.
“oh i know baby i know. feels good yeah? tight little pussy is fucking soaking us, you hear that?” he breathlessly chuckled, referring to the slapping noises your thighs were making. “uh huh! uh huh! i hear it kenny,” you whimpered, trying your absolute hardest not to start drooling.
kento securely held both of your legs in one of his arms while the other gripped your chin, forcing you took look at him. you stuck out your tongue the tiniest bit making him chuckle, “gimme a kiss baby.” he sucked your tongue into his mouth making your eyes roll back. you loved when he did that. nanami’s sloppy, tongue filled kisses were your personal drug of choice. the way he made you feel every ounce of love and want in just a single kiss made your head spin and your pussy throb.
“s’good ken you’re so strong. so. fucking. stronggg.” ken thrusted up a tad rougher towards the end of your sentence, his head inflated beyond belief. your praise was making his head spin, he had to give you the most earth shattering orgasm you’ve ever had—he had to.
he adjusted your position to where both of your legs were hanging over his arms once more, both of his hands now clasped behind your head. “ready pretty baby?” he huffed out, chuckling when the only noise you let out was a loud moan.
you didn’t know it was possible to be fucked completely braindead yet here you were, eyes rolled back and not a thought in your mind as kento brutally thrusted up into you. he could only imagine how full your pussy must’ve looked, god the thought had his balls tightening.
“ken! ken! ken! kenny!” you chanted his name like a prayer, your pussy now squelching each time his fucked up into you. nanami tightened his hands around your head (not too tight though ofc) and forced your head to look down, giving you a delicious view of his soaked cock spearing into your puffy pussy. “we *hiccup* look so pretty together kenny, wish you could *hiccup* see,” you sighed dreamily, because it truly was a beautiful sight.
“don’t worry baby i will later, s-see that—fuck! see my phone? hm?” he slowed his pace, and loosened his grip on your head allowing you to look up and see that his phone was indeed propped up recording the entire thing. you smiled and bit your lip, now excited for when you both watch the video together which will probably lead to him having you like this again hehe.
“rub your clit my love, cmon make yourself cum on your husbands cock—yeahhhh that’s it honey there you fucking go,” nanami growled in pleasure as your pussy squeezed him like a vice. his dick was getting wetter either each thrust inside you until he accidentally slipped out making you whine very loudly. “i got it baby i got it,” he huffed and slammed you right back down on his cock, making your eyes cross. “yes yes y-yes fuck, so good kenny please cum in me,” you cried, digging your nails into his toned thighs.
nanami growled removing his hands from your head to spread thighs as wide as possible, one hand toying sloppily with your clit while the other found purchase on your neck. “i’m gonna cum baby—right inside this tight little pussy, and you’re gonna take all of it like my good little wife aren’t you?” his hand began to slap your clit, making a broken moan slip past your swollen lips. “yesss kenny m’gonna take it all i promise!” you cried, aching to feel the warmth of his cum inside you.
“fuck fuck fuck goddammit,” kento let out a guttural moan right in your ear, his cock throbbing as he pumped his cum into you. there was so much. so much it began to slip down his cock and onto the bed. he was about to pull out but you quickly stopped him, wanting to stay like this for just a little while longer. “can i at least turn you around so i can look at you?” he hummed , giving your shoulder a gentle kiss.
you nodded and nanami slowly pulled out making you whimper before turning your body so you were facing him. he pulled you tightly against his chest mumbling praises on top of praises in your ear while he carefully pushed himself back inside you, moaning softly.
“so how’d you like it my love,” he grinned nudging your nose with his. you lifted your head up and cradled his face in your hands, pressing your foreheads together. “that was so. fucking. good. rest up while you can because you’re gonna fuck me like that again tonight!” you giggled, purposely clenching around his now soft cock. kento hissed, squeezing his eyes shut in sensitivity.
he’s probably created an even bigger monster in you but shit he wasn’t complaining!!!
btw peaches and coconut!eren fic coming soon!! i just wanted to get this out of my drafts *kiss kiss*
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unadulterated loathing (pt 3, finale)
pt 1 / pt 2
pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader
summary: you are forced to partner up with fiyero on a history project. things don't go as you imagine.
a/n: the final part!! this was meant to be a really short one shot to show my appreciation for jb and then it ended up becoming. 15000 words. so you know sometimes things happen. anyways i hope you enjoy lol i had a lot of fun writing these two
wc: 4.7k
warning(s): none really? i guess some minor angst w/ allusions to cheating but this is the resolution it's pretty much all fluff
You’d never been this nervous on your way to the library.
Maybe it was because you were just on the edge of helping Fiyero cheat on his girlfriend, and said girlfriend showed up in the midst of said almost cheating.
Yeah. It was probably that.
You didn’t know what was wrong with you, honest. It was almost exactly two weeks ago that you were a perfectly sane individual, more interested in making sure Fiyero didn’t ruin your life, and more importantly your grades—and now you couldn’t stop thinking about him.
You exhaled slowly as you stopped outside the door. You were going to finish the project tonight, and then everything would be back to normal. You would be back to only caring about your grades, and Fiyero would go back to Galinda.
You ran your hands down your uniform to straighten your top, as well as try to straighten out your thoughts. At least you were early—you’d have some time to try and be a normal person while you waited for Fiyero to show up.
That is, until you walked into the library and immediately heard someone call your name.
Your eyes snapped in the direction of the voice, and your breath hitched despite yourself when you saw it was Fiyero. You cringed against the dirty looks from various students as you hurried over to him, where he sat at your usual table.
“Good of you to finally show up,” he said in mock disdain. “You know, we are partners, so it would be nice for you to put in the same amount of effort.”
You huffed as he threw your words back at you. “Clever. You’re still not meant to be loud in a library.”
Fiyero shrugged. “I’m sure they don’t mind.”
“They very much do,” you said, taking your seat across from him. “And why are you so early?”
“I wanted to make sure we got our usual spot,” he said. “Very popular real estate, this table.”
“Right,” you nodded. “Thank you, then.”
“Of course.” Fiyero looked at the stack of books in your arms—you’d been carrying them around for the past two weeks. “I wasn’t sure if you would remember to get the books after.”
“Didn’t I tell you?” you said wryly. “I remember everything.”
“Of course,” he repeated, his lips twitching. “I went by the library after to get them, but sure enough, you already had.”
“You went to get them?”
“You were soaked to the bone. I figured you had more important things to do.”
“If you’ve been listening at all lately, you would know that school is the most important thing to me.”
“Right.” Fiyero chuckled, but there was a different edge to it. “I trust you were able to get back safely?”
“It’s just to my dorm. I was fine. Oh, and—” you opened your bag and pulled out Fiyero’s jacket, perfectly folded— “thank you for this. I washed and dried it, so you don’t have to worry about any of it.”
He smiled as he took it, choosing to set it down next to him rather than slip it back on. Honestly, you were thankful. You… really liked this stripped down look. “I’m glad it was useful.”
“It was,” you nodded. “How was your talk with Galinda?”
He sighed and shook his head. “It was nothing.”
“Fiyero, it was very obviously something,” you said. “What did she say to you?”
“I brought coffee like you asked,” he said instead. He pushed both cups over to you.
“Fiyero—”
“I got you two,” he continued. “Figured you would need them more than I do.”
You held your tongue as you stared at him, and he stared right back. It was clear you weren’t going to get anything out of him about this—at least, not yet.
So you nodded and took one of the cups. “Thank you. You’re probably right.”
Fiyero smiled and nodded. Then his eyes lit up, and he pointed at you. “You said you knew why Dillamond paired us together.”
“Oh, yeah.” You chuckled a bit and shrugged. “I don’t know how I didn’t figure it out sooner. He was hoping we would both mellow each other out.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“All I really care about is school. I have big dreams and only one shot at them, so I refuse to slow down—I don’t know how to not stress about everything in my life, and it’s kinda killing me. You, on the other hand, don’t stress about anything. You dance through life without care—for your grades, what other people think about you, even the future, but because of it, people don’t ever see you for who you really are.” You tapped on the table between you. “We’re opposite ends of the spectrum. Doctor Dillamond wanted this project to help us meet in the middle—to influence each other for the better.”
“...Huh.” Fiyero leaned back and laughed. “So this was really just some kind of experiment?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” you said wryly. “I think he just saw an opportunity and took it.” You gave him a look. “He was probably tired of you failing every test.”
“And he was probably tired of you trying to take over his job,” Fiyero said in turn.
“Oh, whatever,” you admonished with a smile.
“Do you think it worked?”
“...I think so, yeah.” You gestured at him. “I couldn’t stand you at the beginning of all this. Now, I’d say we’re something close to friends.”
“Something close to friends?” he asked in mock pain. “Not even the full thing?”
“Give it another month.”
“I don’t know,” Fiyero said offhandedly. “Wanting to hang out for another month sounds like something friends would do.”
“Are you done?” you asked.
“Never,” he said. “But I’ll put a temporary pause on it. Where are we at? How much work do we have left?”
“We’ve got the whole paper written and I’ve proofread all of it—we just need to go through and rewrite some parts to make them stronger, and maybe add a little more substance in the middle. The sixth page is the weakest one.”
“Makes sense,” he said. “It is the sixth page.”
You huffed a laugh as you opened the folder you’d been keeping everything in and slid it over to the middle of the table. “Have you read the whole thing yet?”
He shook his head, and your eyebrows rose. “Really?
“Just the pages I wrote,” he said. “I’m sure yours are much better than mine.”
“Then you read the whole essay while I go through my additions,” you said. “I could use some fresh eyes on it all—I’ve been staring at those words forever.”
Fiyero nodded and took the stapled papers out of the folder. He met your eyes as he flipped the top page over. “Very nice title page.”
“Thank you,” you said. “I took inspiration from the cover of a book Ilara wrote on Winkie languages, actually.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
You shrugged, biting back your smile as you turned back to your pages. “I thought it would be a nice touch.”
You could see Fiyero’s smile out of your peripherals, and it almost made you forget about the questions gnawing at your skull.
But now clearly wasn’t the time. So you pushed them away and did what you did best—ignored everything else in your life in favor of getting your schoolwork done.
The time passed quickly enough that way. It took Fiyero a decent amount of time to read the entire paper—it didn’t help that he got distracted about twenty-five times and bothered you with questions each time, but his questions were at least related to the paper half the time, so you humored them.
Two hours, both coffees, what felt like a thousand questions, and one exploded fountain pen later (thankfully not yours, though Fiyero somehow made the ink splatter on his undershirt look good)—
“I… think we’re actually done.”
“Oz, I hope so,” Fiyero muttered. “This is the longest I’ve ever been in the library.”
“These are rookie numbers,” you said wryly. “But yes, we’re done. We’ve got a really solid paper here, Fiyero.” You smiled. “And you helped with a good amount of it.”
He puffed out his chest. “And you thought I would just ride your coattails the entire time.”
“You thought that too,” you said.
“I did,” he amended. “But it’s kind of impossible going against you.”
You grinned. “I can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out.”
You stood up from the table and took some time to stretch. Your wrists and fingers hurt from writing, and your eyes were strained from reading so much of your own writing (and Fiyero’s) for so long, but none of it really bothered you. You finished your midterm the day before it was due, and you were immensely proud of it. Considering you were at odds—admittedly one-sided odds—with Fiyero at the beginning, it should have been branded a miracle.
“I know I’ve said it a lot, but I truly don’t know how you do this,” Fiyero said. “This is the most I’ve used my brain in a long time, but this is how you live. Truly exhausting.”
You smiled. “Maybe you can try and get better grades now.”
“Oh, darling,” Fiyero chided, “who do you think I am?”
You chuckled and shook your head. “It was worth a shot.”
You began to gather all the books scattered about the table—you were usually organized when you did work, but you’d ended up making quite the mess—and Fiyero helped. The two of you dropped them in the returns and you cracked your knuckles.
“I’m so glad I don’t have to keep carrying all those back and forth,” you said.
“I’m surprised you haven’t thrown out your back yet,” he remarked. “But now you’re done with books for a while, at least.”
“Oh, hardly,” you remarked. “In fact, there’s a chemistry book I need to check out to help with my assignment coming up.”
Fiyero frowned as he started following your quick pace back to the aisles. “Have you got another paper?”
“Not yet,” you said, paying him no mind as you checked book bindings to keep yourself on the right track. He could hardly keep up with you. “I just want to study up on the method we’re going to be using so I know how to do it.”
“Isn’t the point of class to learn how to do it?” he asked.
“I’m just wasting time if I don’t already know what I’m doing,” you said. You made a triumphant noise as you realized you were in the right aisle, and you started moving down, eyes rapidly scanning last names on book spines.
“You truly make no sense,” Fiyero murmured.
“There it is!” you exclaimed. You took a particularly hefty book off the shelf and skimmed through the first couple of pages, nodding once you’d confirmed you had the right one. “Alright, now we can—”
“That’s one nasty bruise.”
You looked up from the pages to see Fiyero much closer than before, his brows furrowed as he looked at your arm.
Your attention fell to where he was focused on, and you shrugged. “I must’ve done it while I was getting out of the water. I’ve always bruised easily.”
“Probably because you don’t take care of yourself,” he said wryly. He moved to take your arm, but he met your eyes first for permission. When you nodded, he placed one hand underneath to support it. “Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore,” you said. “I told you, Fiyero—I’m fine.”
“I know,” he sighed. “You always are; I’m beginning to realize that.”
You shrugged, though you smiled inwardly. “It’s a virtue.”
“I really am sorry that you fell into the water,” he said. “I feel like it’s my fault.”
“It’s not your fault at all,” you said. If anything, it was your fault for going into complete panic mode at the slightest glimpse of Galinda.
“Still, though,” he said. “I’m surprised you weren’t angrier.”
“Well… All this time I’ve spent with you has made me realize I don’t need to take everything so seriously.” You gave him a sideways smile, trying to imitate that easy smile he always seemed to have in his back pocket. “Especially when I’ve already got everything worked out.”
“I’m glad I could teach you something,” Fiyero said softly. “In return for all you taught me.”
“I taught you how to write an essay, you taught me how to not be miserable all the time,” you said wryly. “Certainly equals.”
“You came along with it,” he murmured. “That’s more valuable than anything.”
Something hard pressed against your back, and you realized you’d backed up against the bookcases, Fiyero angled in a way that caged you in. You met his eyes, surprised to see he was already looking at you.
His gaze drifted to your lips. He started to lean in, you doing the same without fully realizing it, as if the two of you were pulled by some invisible string.
His eyes had already fluttered shut. You were inches from his lips—he was letting you take the first step at your own pace.
And then you stopped.
“You’re with Galinda,” you whispered. You couldn’t help it.
Fiyero stopped, and he sighed before he opened his eyes. “Hardly.”
“You’re arm in arm everywhere you go,” you said. “She’s head over heels for you and everyone knows, most of all you. You saw how she reacted to the two of us down by the water today!”
“She thinks there’s so much more than there is,” he said. “I’ve been pulling away. If she hasn’t noticed—”
“Does she know that?” you asked.
He stayed silent.
“Fiyero, does she know that you think this little of your relationship?”
“...No,” he admitted. “She’s not the best at taking hints.”
“Then don’t make her take them. Tell her.” You shook your head, letting out a shaky sigh as you took a step back. “If— if you actually want this—want me—then you have to tell her. You have to end things with her.”
Fiyero reached out a hand as he said your name, and you shook your head once more.
“Galinda doesn’t deserve to be strung along while you try to figure out how you feel,” you said. “And neither do I.”
“That’s not what this is,” he said. “I promise.”
“Promises mean nothing if they’re just words,” you said. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to get rid of the chill running down your spine. “You know what I want, Fiyero. If it’s not what you want, then—”
“What do you want?” he interrupted.
“I—” the word stuck in your throat. Fiyero was so close you could feel his warmth, smell his scent—it threatened to overwhelm you in the most intoxicating way.
“What?” Fiyero’s gaze didn’t waver. Oz, he wanted to kill you. He wanted to hear you say it.
“I want you,” you finally managed to get out. Something changed in his eyes, and you saw his throat bob. “But I need to know this is real.”
Fiyero took your hand. “It is.”
He pulled you closer to him, and it would have been the easiest thing in the world to fall into him and let him give you what you’d been fighting against. But you weren’t going to kiss him and make a fool of yourself just for him to go back to Galinda.
“Then prove it,” you said. You took your hand back, and you pushed past him. Fiyero put up no resistance, and you still felt his eyes on you.
“And when I do?” he spoke up.
That stopped you in your tracks. You turned to meet his eyes, softer than you’d ever seen them. You looked down at the book in your hand, and you held it out to him.
“Then meet in the library tomorrow to help me with my chemistry assignment.”
Fiyero took the book and nodded. “I guess I’ve got even more to learn.”
-
You had a very rude awakening to your alarm clock the next morning.
You hadn’t been able to sleep the whole night, your stupid, stupid words replaying in your head over and over again. Usually, when you couldn’t sleep you just worked on homework. But all of your homework was done, and you’d just finished your essay, so you had nothing to do but stare up at the ceiling. And stare up at the ceiling you did — you counted all the flowers and leaves on it at least fifteen times.
It didn’t really help that Fiyero appeared in your dreams once you finally did manage to get some sleep, doing all sorts of lovely things to you.
Cora was right. Against your better judgment, you liked Fiyero—just like everyone else liked Fiyero.
All you had to hope was that he liked you too.
It wasn’t absurd to think he did, was it? The man tugged at your strings constantly, but he stayed by your side the entire project despite your insults. He barely even glanced at Galinda when she confronted the two of you, and he offered his jacket in spite of all of it.
He practically told you he liked you last night—Great Oz, he tried to kiss you.
You overthought everything in your life, but you couldn’t overthink this.
Could you?
God, men turned you into a disaster. There was a reason you avoided silly dalliances.
You tried to push Fiyero out of your mind as much as possible as you got ready, but it wasn’t easy. You could, in fact, overthink this—and you very much were.
You opened your door to go to the restrooms, but your door hit something. You frowned and crouched down, and you realized it was a book. Your chemistry book.
Your heart pounded as you picked it up. A strip of paper had been wedged in the middle, and when you pulled it out and smoothed the slip, you nearly dropped the book.
You’re what I want. I just have to clear some things up.
Meet me at Ozdust after dark. Wear your best.
FT
Your heart fluttered despite yourself.
Fiyero didn’t forget. You hadn’t scared him off with your declarations, with— with all your you.
He didn’t forget. He chose you.
He chose you.
(You couldn’t overthink this.)
((You were going to.))
Oh, Oz.
How were you meant to go to your classes today?
-
You could have sworn you were shaking the entire way to Ozdust.
This was just… not you. Sneaking off campus in the middle of the night, getting glitzed up to go dance, being with someone like Fiyero—it was so unfamiliar. You had to get Coralie to do your makeup and hair, and she squealed practically the entire time. For someone so smart, she really lost it when she was right.
But you owed it to him to go through with it. After all, he wrote a ten page paper with you. You could do a little bit of dancing.
You’d already started looking for him the moment you walked through the doors. You needed one thing to keep you afloat here.
Thankfully, it didn’t take very long. You found Fiyero leaning up against a pillar, his arms crossed and gaze unfocused as his foot bounced up and down repeatedly. Warmth blossomed within your body just at the sight of him, which you were partly thankful for—your dress had you shivering.
His head perked up as if he could sense your arrival, and it only took a few moments for him to find you in the crowd. The weight on his shoulders dissolved as he grinned and started to weave his way through the throngs of bodies to get to you.
You couldn’t help but smile too when he reached you, something you’d never really seen before in his eyes as he met yours.
“You came,” Fiyero said.
“How could I not?”
He let out a nervous laugh. “Very easily, I think. I saw about a hundred different scenarios where you didn’t show.”
“Overthinking,” you said. “It looks like I’ve taught you a little too much.”
Fiyero grinned and shook his head. “Never.”
You lifted up the skirt of your dress, feeling your skin heat beneath his gaze. “What do you think?”
“You’re beautiful,” he said softly. “You always are— always have been. This just accentuates it.”
“You’re too kind.” You wrapped your arms around yourself on instinct, feeling awfully bare and insecure now that everything had settled a bit. “This… isn’t exactly my scene.”
“That project wasn’t my scene and you got me through it well enough,” he responded. “This is my scene—so just trust me and let me take the lead.”
“Trust you?” you said with a sideways smile. “I’m not sure there are worse things.”
“Oh, believe me.” Fiyero held out his hand. “There are indeed.”
Before you could doubt yourself, you took it. He walked you to the dance floor, and you cleared your throat.
“Is this a bad time to say I don’t really dance?”
“You’ll be fine,” Fiyero assured. “I’m an excellent lead.”
He was indeed. You always thought that you had two left feet, but Fiyero made you feel like you actually knew what you were doing. Every time you thought you might step on his foot, he would take you into the next few steps and it would all be fine. Of course, his touch lit flames everywhere it went, but that was of no matter. He only made you weak in the knees.
As you looked at Fiyero, your arms draped around his neck and his hands resting on your waist while you swayed together to a slower part of the song, you couldn’t help but ask.
“How did you break it to her?”
Fiyero sighed. “I was wondering when you were going to ask that.”
“You can’t blame me,” you said.
“No,” he agreed. He sighed again. “Very carefully. And I had to do it about three times, because she didn’t fully believe me the first two times.”
You bit your lip. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be. It was a long time coming. I care about her, but not in the way she does for me.” He gave you a wry smile. “That’s why I left the book at your door. I didn’t know how long it would take.”
“And how long did it take?
“The better half of the day.”
You winced. “I hope she’s alright.”
“She will be,” he said. “Especially with someone like Elphaba by her side.”
“Good,” you said. “I… I didn’t want to hurt her.”
“You didn’t,” Fiyero assured. “If anything, you kept her from further harm by bringing me to my senses.”
“I wasn’t sure if you had.” You let out a nervous laugh—all of this was such new territory that you felt like you were stumbling over every step.
“I wasn’t sure if you were going to show,” Fiyero said in turn. “It’s the first time I’ve been nervous about a girl in a while.”
His smile was so genuine, with a touch of the anxiousness you felt over every little part of your life. It had to feel absurd for someone who never worried a day in their life.
“Really?” you asked. “I make you nervous?”
Fiyero shrugged—he actually looked bashful, and it was the cutest thing in the world. “You’ve got that effect on me. Effortlessly, I might add.”
“Flatterer,” you remarked, but you were grinning all the while. “You know, you have the same effect on me. I stressed out even more trying to figure out if you liked me or not. Or if I liked you.”
“You know how much I adore that beautiful brain of yours,” Fiyero said, “but we made it. There’s nothing for you to overthink here.”
“Oh, I think you underestimate me,” you said wryly. “Right now, I’m mainly stressing out about my dress and my makeup and accidentally stepping on your foot. I’m also a little stressed about the strength of these pillars, and I’m already thinking about my next assignment in chemistry now that I’ve got my book back.”
Fiyero laughed as he spun you around. “Let me try to lay some of those to rest then,” he said when he had you back in his arms. “You look absolutely stunning in your dress, and your makeup is perfect. You’re not going to step on my foot, and if you do, you can blame it on me because I’m leading you. If any of these pillars collapse, I’ll save you as any prince worth his salt would. As for your chemistry assignment, we’ll just work together on it.”
You leaned your head against his chest as you swayed together. “And just how much do you know about chemistry?”
“If you’re talking about whatever it is going on between the two of us, then I consider myself an expert.”
“Fiyero.” You tried to be stern, but you couldn’t help your smile. He just brought out a different side in you.
“Oh, you’ll be fine. I know you will.” When he twirled you back around, he wore the same easy smile from when the two of you got paired together. Funny how you wanted to punch it off him then, and you want to kiss it off him now. “You got me to write an essay without me complaining the entire time. You can do anything.”
“Oh, I know I can,” you said with a smile. “I don’t do all this because I doubt that I’ll succeed.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he mused.
“Really?”
“I just want you to know how amazing you are,” Fiyero said. “I’ll tell you every day if that’s what it takes.”
“I wouldn’t say no to that,” you murmured.
A new song started up and Fiyero guided you into a new dance. He was so sure of every step that it almost made you feel like you knew what you were doing as well.
“You say you’re prepared for anything.” Fiyero’s voice was a sultry whisper as he led you around the floor, and your entire body ignited with his every word and touch. “What would you do if I kissed you?”
For a moment, all you could do was meet his lidded gaze. It dropped to your lips, and suddenly it was all you could imagine.
“I—” your throat bobbed as you swallowed, your mouth dry beyond belief, “—I would kiss you back.”
“Oh, darling,” he breathed, the hand he had on your waist drawing you closer, “that was all you needed to say.”
Fiyero dipped you, strong arms supporting you all the while as he leaned down to meet your lips. It was everything that you’d imagined and more, his plush lips enveloping yours as his scent filled your nose.
He took over all your senses. His scent, his lips on yours, his strong arms supporting you with ease, your fingers tangling in his hair. Were his arms not around you, you would have surely collapsed. You always thought people were exaggerating when they said they got weak in the knees—you didn’t think that anymore.
Fiyero only let up an inch when he pulled away, still close enough for your noses to brush even as he brought you back up out of the dip. You closed your eyes and touched your forehead to his, and you heard his breath hitch the slightest bit. The ballroom was full of people, and yet he made you feel as if you were the only two in all of Oz.
“You’re incredible,” you murmured. You felt like you could melt.
“As are you.” Fiyero let out a breathy sigh. “I can’t believe I waited so long.”
“I hope it was worth the wait.”
“You’re worth everything and more,” he said softly.
He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours again; once, twice, three times before he pulled back. He was nothing less than intoxicating.
“We make a pretty good team,” he said with a sideways smile. “Don’t you agree?”
This time, spurred on by his encouragement, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him. Fiyero kept you close with his hands on your waist, and you only pulled away when air became a necessity. You couldn’t help your stupid smile—it had been a long time since you’d felt this happy, and it was all because of the man in front of you.
You couldn’t believe you ever thought you loathed him.
“I do,” you murmured. “I really, really do.”
#fiyero tigelaar x reader#fiyero x reader#wicked x reader#fiyero x you#fiyero tigelaar x you#fiyero movie x reader#wicked movie x reader
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would you make a Klaus fic, where he and reader are under a sex spell? just a sex magic fic, you can decide on the plot🥰
love your fics btw💕
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/4ef2fe4e68e7ab9a18454f6e4cf13222/fc625f3dc2827380-02/s540x810/5ef410686208dd4b8ee5af3d89f16e6a2b16fac2.jpg)
Warning:Dubcon cause sex pollen, talk and use of sex toys, desperate/passionate fucking, needy Hybrid sex, brief realization of Yandere behavior at the end
‘You’re joking!’ I exclaimed, unable to unhear what Bonnie had just told me.
‘No, not at all. We need to keep you away from everyone else because this spell can potentially effect others who come in contact with you. Caroline has already said you can stay in her parents cabin, Damon is taking you there now.’ She shooed me out of the room and outside to Damon’s car.
‘Get in the back!’ He snapped as I moved to slide into the passenger seat. ‘I don’t need this shit effecting me next-‘
‘Why can’t I just stay in the cell in the basement? That way I won’t be alone…I’m scared-‘
‘Because Klaus was hit by that shit too, we don’t know if he knows what it was yet and with how desperate he is for you every other day without being bewitched, I can’t even imagine what he would do with you now.’ He explained as if I were a small stupid child and I wanted to hit him desperately.
A warlock coming after Elena (as always) for Doppelgänger blood for one of his spells had attacked us. I had grabbed a potted plant outside of the Grille and cracked it over his head which gave Elena enough time to run and find Damon, though as he whirled around to me there was suddenly an angry Hybrid standing in front of me which gave the Warlock pause.
Klaus had seemingly taken an interest in me as soon as he arrived in town and while I don’t encourage him, I’m also not cruel or mean either, which seemed to make him think he had a chance.
The man reached into his jacket and pulled out a small spell bag before dumping some pink powder into his hand and blowing it at the both of us. I couldn’t help but inhale it, only breathing in more when I began choking and hearing Klaus do the same, my eyes and nose burning as I felt his hands holding onto me. Though he was still coughing himself he checked on me (which I found very sweet), hands on my face and inspecting me before brushing the powder off of me leading to me returning the favor. He had no clue what it was and neither did I but after a quick thanks I left to find my friends and a witch to tell me what the fuck I just inhaled.
Turns out we had both been choking on a very powerful potion that people had dubbed “Sex Pollen”. Many witches used to use it several hundred years ago but most stopped once people began insisting that it led to way too many people becoming effected (since all you needed to do was injest a drop) and ending up sexually assaulting whoever came across their path. The potion is typically in a liquid form but talented witches can make it in a powder, however it is about ten times more potent.
‘Stay here, theres food and water, TV, books. Everything you could possibly need. Caroline also bought you some…play things…to help. God this is so gross, they’re in the bedroom. Get out of my car-‘
‘No! How long do I have to stay here?!’ I snapped making him roll his eyes.
‘Bonnie said in the powder form it can take several hours to kick in but it lasts a few days, though with how much you breathed in probably a week at least. Go! Before you infect me too and we really have a problem!’ I grabbed the bag that Elena had packed me and slid out of the car, walking inside and locking the door behind me with a heavy sigh.
‘Fuck All Of You Assholes!’ I screamed, hating my friends for abandoning me just so they wouldn’t suffer as well before I looked around the cabin, finding the bedroom with a large California King that was quite comfortable. I also came across a basket on the bed which contained a rechargeable wand, a 7 inch pink suction cup dildo, a butt plug and a bottle of salted caramel flavored lube. ‘Why The Fuck Was She So Thorough?!’
I set the basket aside and stripped out of my shirt and jeans as I began feeling warm, climbing into the bed under the sheet and deciding to try and take a nap before I get hit with killer horniness.
The nap didn’t last more than an hour before I woke up rolling around restlessly, my body sweating now as a hot feeling in my stomach began intensifying. I couldn’t tell you how long I laid there writhing in misery before I heard a loud knock at the door, instantly hating the world that much more.
‘What are you doing here?!’ I snapped as I finally dragged myself to the front door, moody and uncomfortable which made me unable to be kind.
‘I thought I would come and assist you. Wouldn’t want you suffering through this alone, now would we?’ Klaus asked, looking every bit as put together as always but I could see in his eyes how desperate he was. I could also see his impressive bulge tenting his jeans.
‘How did you find me? I was-never mind. Go away Klaus!’ I groaned, moving to shut the door.
‘I followed Damon, he wasn’t very careful, my guess is he didn’t much care if I found you. They just wanted you away from them before they had to suffer too, your friends that you protected sent you away to save themselves. Seems really selfish to me.’ Any other day I would disagree but with how I was feeling I couldn’t argue with him, prompting me to agree.
‘You’re right…Fuck them! Couldn’t even put me downstairs! Had to leave me all alone!’ I raged as I was overcome by a cramping pain straight down to my pussy causing me to double over.
‘Invite me in Love, let’s help each other? It’s going to be days with only brief hours of relief between…let me help you get some relief?’
‘Klaus, I can’t-‘
‘You want me just as much as I want you, don’t lie!’ He growled, eyes glowing gold now as he showed how desperate he really was, so far gone that he wasn’t able to hide it anymore.
‘It’s just this stupid magic-‘
‘No! No, I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you, and you…you need me too.’ His hand reached down to grab his crotch, pupils nearly swallowing his entire eye whole. ‘I can make your pussy feel so good baby, you need me! Who else could go anywhere near as long as a Hybrid, huh?’ He was right, if anyone could help me it was Klaus, especially with how pent up he is himself. ‘Please Y/n? I need to be buried in your little cunt, and you know you need it too! Your fingers can’t help you the way my cock can and I know you’ve dreamt of my cock in your needy little pussy since long before this ever happened-Fuck! I Need You! Please?!’ He begged and as I felt a rush of wetness coat my panties I whined, nodding my head. ‘Say it Y/n…Say It!’
‘Come in Klaus! Please?! I need-‘ I didn’t get to finish my statement before I was tackled to the floor with the Hybrid yanking his pants open and shoving them down enough to free himself before tearing my panties off of my body and shoving himself into me roughly.
‘So Fucking Perfect! Knew your cunt would be perfect! Tightest little cunt-Fuck! Never gonna stop fucking you baby!’
‘Yes! Don’t Stop! Fuck Klaus, your cock! So good!’ Tears leaked from my eyes as he continued thrusting into my body. The sound of skin slapping together echoing through the house and out the front door that hung on one hinge from where the Hybrid had nearly ripped it off as he entered. ‘Oh Fuck!’ I threw my head back against the carpet as my first orgasm rushed through me out of nowhere, only realizing he had finished with me when I felt the hot cum inside of me as he continued thrusting, never once even slowing down.
‘I need to feel you squeeze me again Babygirl, cum for me! Cum for your Alpha!’ The second orgasm was just as strong as the first as I came and felt his body tense up as well before he finally stilled, breathing heavily into my neck.
‘I think…we’re in trouble…’ I panted heavily and he chuckled before looking down at me, hesitating only a second before pressing his lips to mine in a soft, lovely kiss. ‘Don’t stop.’ I insisted when he pulled back, grabbing onto his neck and pressing my lips to his this time as I enjoyed our kiss.
‘This isn’t how I wanted it to happen, I wanted to take you on a date, show you how much I love you…then I was going to fuck you…wanted to make you feel so good you would never leave me again-‘
‘It’s okay, you’ve just done it backwards…you can still take me out, just after this is over because I don’t think people would appreciate you fucking me over our table.’ I teased, enjoying the genuine smile that I got from him, only ever seeing it when he looks at me which has always made me feel special.
‘That’s the spell talking-‘
‘I liked you before that you idiot! I just never really thought you were all that serious.’ I admitted, pushing him up and feeling his (once again) hard cock slide out of me as he helped me stand up.
‘How could you think that? I’ve gone out of my way to show you-your friends told you I was using you, didn’t they?’ I nodded and he huffed a heavy sigh before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into a rough kiss. ‘I love you, regardless of any doppelgänger or your awful friends. After all of this I will take you out properly, I promise…but until then-‘
‘No! No more floor fucking, there’s furniture and a bed here for a reason, no more carpet, it hurts.’ I explained, feeling the rug burn against my back and ass.
‘No more rugs, but I need you now.’ He growled, lifting me by my thighs and appearing in the bedroom instantly, dropping me onto the bed. Just as he spread my legs he paused, glancing over to the table and reaching out to grab the basket with the things Caroline had left. ‘What-‘
‘Caroline left them for me. I guess she wanted to help me since I’m all alone.’
‘Interesting…does she know you well, or not?’ He wondered, picking up the butt plug and raising his eyebrows making me blush as my body started sweating.
‘Klaus! Stop the teasing and get inside me! The cramps are starting, so if you’re not going to help me then get the Fuck out and I’ll do it my-Ah!’ I cried out, feeling the rounded end of the plug pressing to my tight hole and rubbing against it. ‘Oh God!’ Klaus took the lube bottle and squeezed a healthy amount onto the plug before tossing it to the other side of the bed and pressing it back against my ass.
‘Relax Precious, this is going to make it feel so much better!’ He promised, pushing the plug harder until it popped into my hole. Klaus could feel his cock throbbing even harder at the sight of the jewel on the end of the plug. ‘You are so fucking perfect! How do you fee-‘
‘Klaus! Please?!’ I begged, pulling him closer and yanking at his shirt before getting it off and sighing in relief at the feel of his hot skin against mine.
Klaus shoved his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off, finally naked as well before taking hold of his cock and pushing himself back inside of me. ‘There you are love, feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Both of your slutty little holes stuffed up?’
‘T-Too much-Never-‘
‘Never been so full before, I know Baby! I-Fuck!’ Suddenly as if he could no longer control himself he began thrusting into me frantically. ‘Mine! My Fucking Cunt!’ He snarled, Hybrid visage taking over as he fucked into me so hard I briefly wondered if he could shatter my pelvis like this.
‘Yes! Yours! All yours, don’t stop! Please don’t stop?!’
Y/n couldn’t have said how long Klaus continued like that. How long he thrust into her cunt at a painful speed, how many times the both of them had climaxed together while he still continued to fuck his (somehow still) hard cock into her, she couldn’t even say how many times he had buried his fangs into her throat in an effort to mark her as his like a werewolf marking his mate…and maybe he was. Odds are she was never getting away from him now-not that she wanted to.
It was a week later that Damon finally came back to the house to check on her finding the front door ripped open.
He ventured inside, not hearing anything and figuring that it was over for Y/n and who was inevitably Klaus that had torn the door off the hinges. He was prepared with jokes galore for the the drive back, excited to pick on the young girl for giving into the monster that had been after her for months but sadly he never got to use those jokes.
Damon opened the door to the bedroom to find his girlfriends friend snuggled into Klaus Mikaelson’s naked chest fast asleep. The Hybrid however seemed to have awoken as soon as he turned the doorknob, his yellow eyes finding his with an intensity that he had never seen. He bore his fangs, lifting his head and Damon (one of the only people who had never truly feared Klaus Mikaelson) was instantly terrified. It was like a bucket of ice water dumped on him, alarm bells ringing in his head declaring the danger that he is in prompting him to throw up his hands instantly. As Klaus moved to sit up, the young vampire shut the door promptly and hightailed it back to his car, peeling back down the driveway.
He doesn’t know how long that stuff will take to wear off but it definitely hasn’t yet and he would not be disturbing them again!
Y/n and Klaus were in the house for nearly 2 weeks before they felt as if their bodies were back to normal though they stayed for another week after that. No one could have imagined how close such a spell would bring them…no one except Klaus of course.
The witch he had hired to make that powder had done a wonderful job, money well spent in the Hybrids mind. The spell had worked better than he ever could have imagined and it had gotten him exactly what he wanted.
The only thing left to do was to kill the witch that had helped him and ensure that his mate never learned that he was the one who had dosed her.
He finally had his girl, he couldn’t let something so trivial ruin it.
Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist
#the vampire diaries#the originals#the vampire diares imagine#the originals imagine#vampire#hybrid#tvd klaus#niklaus mikaelson#niklaus imagine#klaus imagine#klaus x reader#klaus x y/n#klaus x oc#klaus smut#klaus mikaelson#klaus mikaelson fluff#klaus mikaelson x oc#klaus mikaelson x reader#klaus mikaelson smut#klaus mikaelson imagine#klaus mikaelson one shot#joseph morgan#use of toys#s*x pollen#bewitched with s*x pollen#possessive Klaus Mikaelson
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In Need of a Healer (+18)
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/1c926e01dd017e8db9b7e1f75108c31d/35c94d5d29be6d44-47/s400x600/305c1b58394bf7e79db688f86110ec9c00d684e2.jpg)
Pairing: Halsin x Female Tav
WC: 2200
Summary: You accidentally mix up your mushrooms when trying to make a potion and it goes horribly wrong. Or... not so horribly, in the grand scheme of things?
Content Warnings: SMUT! Huuuge breeding kink, aphrodisiac situation, no bear :( big dick Halsin, unprotected sex, a smidge of dirty talk, maybe a little pregnancy kink Halsin at the end but who knows hes 400 years old, creampies.
— —
Halsin sat under the pallid moonlight, back against the outside of his tent, humming contentedly as he whittled yet another small duck. A little smile decorated his chiseled face as he marveled at the way his craft looked in the pale starlight. The only thing he could hear was his own humming, the soft scrape of his knife against the wooden duck, and the soft chirping of crickets in the tall grass surrounding the camp.
The peaceful sounds of a night at camp were eventually broken by hurried footsteps heading quickly towards his tent.
Tav rounded the large tree that Halsin had set up his tent next to and was breathing heavily. She quickly came to a stop and let out a long sigh.
“Oh, thank the gods you’re still up!”
“Ah, Tav. A pleasure to see you on this beautiful night. How are you?” He looked up at her panting form and smiled. She seemed distraught and uncomfortable.
“Been better actually.. but, um, how are.. you?” She asks, trying desperately to be polite but Halsin could tell there was something wrong. “I like your duck. Is that a new one?” Tav says between heavy breaths, like she had just run several miles.
“Yes, it’s a canvasback duck. Very interesting species as it lives in both fresh and salt waters.” Halsin explains as he holds up his whittled figuring.
“Right yes. Very cool.” Tav hurriedly spits out.
“I can tell you aren’t here to discuss my hobbies, Tav. You seem… a bit perturbed. Anything I can help with?” Halsin asks.
“Gods, yes. Or at least I hope… Can we talk… inside your tent?” Tav says as she turns her head around briefly, looking at the last light of the fire and wondering if anyone else was still up and about. “It’s… kind of embarrassing…”
“Of course.” Halsin rises to his feet to hold the curtain of his tent open for her to enter ahead of him. She quickly ducks inside.
Halsin gestures for her to sit on his makeshift mattress as he sits down on the stool at his desk littered with herbs and potions.
“What’s ailing you? Your face seems flushed. Do you feel feverish at all?” Halsin says as he gets a better look at Tav, seated on his bedroll with their legs crossed, illuminated by the candlelight.
Tav sighs. She looks down at her hands in her lap and wrings them uncomfortably.
“Yes! I’m so warm!” Tav exclaims. “Okay so… I wanted to convince these squirrels to put on these little hats and ride on Scratch like a pony because I thought it would be cute, but I realized I was out of animal speech potions and I was trying to whip one up but I realized I used the wrong herb…. But Astarion said it would be fine! He gave the mushrooms to me after all!”
Halsin chuckled.
“A noble endeavor indeed. I would like to have seen that.”
“And so the elixir looked fine, but I drank it and now I… I don’t feel so good…” Tav says quietly, but Halsin could hear the fear and worry in her voice.
“Hmm… I see. Other than the flush and fever, do you have any other symptoms?” The druid asks, looking her over.
“Well my skin, it has chicken-skin all over that won’t go away… and I can’t stop sweating… and well… there’s this painful ache…” She trails off. “Can I just show you?”
“Please do.” Halsin nods.
Without warning, Tav strips her clothes off leaving her just in her underthings. She settles back on the bedroll and spreads her legs shyly. Once her knees were parted, it was very obvious to Halsin what the ache she was describing was. The gusset of her cloth panties showed a drenched patch covering her sex, the wet fabric sticking desperately to her meaty outer lips.
“Aahh…” Halsin mused as he looked over Tav’s trembling body. “My assumptions were correct, it seems.”
“Your assumptions? And what were those, exactly? Speak plainly, will I survive?” Tav sits up on her elbows and presses her knees together again.
“You must have used black mushrooms instead of acorn truffles. Similar in appearance, but very different in alchemical composition.” Halsin states as he flips through one of the books littering his desk. “I smelled your pheromones before you even appeared in front of my tent. Instead of the potion of animal speaking, you drank a potion of animal breeding.”
“I bed your finest pardon? Shit, I mean beg! I beg your finest pardon?!” Tav becomes increasingly irritated and frustrated by the druid’s casual manner of speaking.
“Yes, commonly used by ranch hands in order to increase the offspring output of their flocks, it drastically increases the heat cycle in mammals. I’ve never seen or heard of the effects of it on humans, but it seems it works the same.” Halsin replies, standing from the stool at his desk and approaching his bedroll where Tav laid.
“So? Is there a cure, an antidote of some kind?” Tav pants.
“Not that I know of. I know the effects subside once the animal has been mated, but I can’t say for certain how to dissolve the effects in a humanoid creature.”
Tav groans and reaches her hand between her clenched thighs, clearly too far gone from the effects of the potion to care about modesty. Halsin sees her wrist flick desperately, but there was no relief on her face… he can’t help but find himself growing erect at the sight of her barely covered, sweaty body writhing in his bed.
“You’re in pain… there might be a way I can help…” Halsin says softly, his eyes searching Tav’s pleading ones.
“Anything. Help me, please.” Tav huffs out through gritted teeth.
“I can… try to alleviate the pain through the intended means… If you’ll allow it.” Halsin’s eyes dart from Tav’s gaze to her hard nipples peaking through her bra and back to her face again.
“You mean.. you’d fuck me? You think it would work?”
“I can’t guarantee it, but I’m happy to give it a try.” Halsin replies with a soft smile.
Tav thinks for a moment before sitting up fully and ripping her bra over her head and tossing it to the floor of Halsin’s tent.
“Gods yes, I’ll do anything.” Tav shimmies her panties down her legs and throws them to join her discarded bra. “Do you need me to, you know… touch you a bit? To get things going?” She says sheepishly.
“Hah, no..” Halsin chuckles. “Seeing you in my bed like this has made me harder than I’m keen to admit. Let me just…”
Halsin takes a few moments to remove all his clothing. Once he was stripped bare, thick cock standing at attention, he turned back towards Tav and was met with quite the sight.
Tav had shifted to her knees, face pressed into Halsin’s pillow with her ass arched high in the air in Halsin’s direction. He was met with her puffy, glistening folds being presented so desperately just for him. Slick drooled out like sap from a mighty maple tree, slowly seeping from Tav’s hole and coating her lips and thighs. He could see her engorged, pink clit peaking out from the apex of her slit, just aching to be touched.
“Oak Father preserve me…” He says quietly, more to himself than anyone else. “What an incredible sight…”
“Halsiiiinnnn…. Will you hurry uuuup?” Tav whined and wiggled her backside in the druid’s direction, beckoning him to enter her.
“Right, of course. You will tell me if there’s any discomfort, yes?” He asks.
“Yes fine yes, just fuck me.” Tav glares at him from her position pressed into the pillow.
“As you wish…” Halsin takes his position behind Tav and guides the leaking tip of his cock to her entrance. “Bit of a stretch now, love…” Halsin coos as he pushes his hips into hers.
“Aaaggh! Ah! Fuck!” Tav cries out and turns her head to bite down on his pillow.
Halsin feels a gush of warmth on his pelvis and notices the hard squeeze of Tav’s cunt as his tip presses against her cervix deep within her. She had climaxed just from him bottoming out inside her.
“Already?” Halsin chuckles again. “Do you feel better? Should I stop?” He runs a soothing hand down her spine.
“Aahh!” Tav moans and pushes back on her knees, forcing him impossibly deeper. “More! Need more!”
“The potion is stronger than I thought… very well… Hold on to something, dear.” Halsin warns as he wraps his large hands around Tav’s milky hips. He begins thrusting into her hard and with great purpose. Normally he would have to take time to prep his smaller partners, but the effects of the elixir had caused Tav’s body to accept his intrusion hungrily. “So warm… like nothing I’ve ever felt…” Halsin groans as he feels the impossible heat from Tav’s walls pulse around him sensually.
“Harder! More!” Tav grits out, brow furrowed, fists clenched in Halsin’s sheets.
Halsin mounts her fully, hunching his back over her to press his chest against her spine. His grip on her hips tightens as he humps into her harder.
“Yes! Fuck! I-I’m cu-!“ Tav yelps out. “Ah!”
Halsin feels her cunt clench on him hard again, the familiar spray of liquid a welcome feeling trickling down his thick thighs. After two orgasms, Halsin assumed she would finally be free of the potion’s effects. He pulls out of her and picks her shaking body up and positions her back down on his bed on her back.
“Better now?” He smiles down at her.
He was met with an even deeper look of desperation.
“No. Need more!” Tav gasps out as she locks her arms behind his back. Without warning, Halsin was tossed on his back on the bed and Tav was hovering above him. She grips his dripping cock and lines it up to her sex, sinking down on it quickly.
“Shiiiit yes…” Tav moans out and throws her head back in pleasure. She begins rocking hard against him, grinding her clit against his pelvis to stimulate all her senses. “Fuuuuck…”
“My darling…” Halsin says hesitantly as he places his gentle hands on her breasts, softly toying with her nipples. “Don’t hurt yourself…”
“Fill me, Halsin, please!” She cries out loudly. “Breed me, Halsin. I need it!” She slams her hips down onto his impossibly fast.
An animalistic, bear-like growl leaves Halsin’s lips.
“You can’t say things like that, little dove.” He grits his teeth, trying to hold back from absolutely ravishing her body.
“But please! I want you to fill me, need you to fill me! Put your fucking babies into me, Halsin, please!” Tav looks down finally and makes eye contact with the large elf. There was a wild, fiery heat glowing in her eyes. Who was he to deny her?
Halsin plants his feet on his bedroll and growls louder, his large hands moving to her waist.
"Halsin, Halsin, Halsin!" Tav spills his name like an invocation as she bounces violently on his cock. "Breed me, please, Halsin!"
He uses this newfound leverage to slam his hips up into hers at a brutal pace, lost in the fantasy of filling her up with his seed. How gorgeous she would look swollen and heavy with his young… breasts plump with sweet milk...
“Yes! Yes!” Tav chants towards the sky as a cock-drunk grin spreads across her face.
“I’ll give you what you need, love… stay still now… shit…” Halsin’s grip on Tav was sure to leave bruises in the morning. Tav was moaning loudly, clearly too far gone in her state to care about anyone else in camp hearing her. “I’m going to fill you now, be good and take it…” He grits out the last bit.
Tav shrieks as she feels the first wave of hot spend fill her insides. Rope after rope of Halsin’s seed stuffed her to the brim, the druid grunting and panting beneath her, pushing her hips down on his so his tip kissed her cervix directly.
Halsin breathes heavily as his orgasm abates and leaves Tav finally satisfied.
“Woah…” Tav dizzily leans forward and collapses against Halsin’s broad chest.
The pair laid in silence for several minutes catching their breaths.
“Here, I’m going to lay you down now. I’ll make you some tea.” Halsin says as he lifts Tav off his softening cock and tucks her into his comforter. “Make sure you drink it before tomorrow.”
“Mhmmmmph.” Tav snuggles tiredly into his mussed sheets, the effects of the potion finally dissipating now that she was stuffed full like a broodmare. She looked too serene in his bed, he couldn’t care less about the large mess she was no doubt leaking onto his mattress.
So what if she didn’t drink the tea tonight… maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea…
Halsin would have to thank Astarion tomorrow.
#baldurs gate smut#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate fanfiction#baldurs gate tav#baldurs gate fanart#bg3 fanart#bg3 tav#tav#halsin#halsin x tav#halsin x reader#halsin x oc#halsin smut#bg3 fanfiction#bg3#bg3 halsin
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