#f: the midnight club

[4suitedplayingcard]

Intermission related pics from my school laptop

[shawtuzi]

✰ YOUR TEETH IN MY NECK ✰

a/n: i’ve been getting a lot of requests for more musician!eren and his fav fan girl and this is also ur reminder to go read the reverb series bc we would not be here without her

cw include: black fem!reader, sexting, exchange of nudes, mention of drug usage (eren was high per usual), sloppy kissing, oral f&m!receiving, unprotected sex, mating press & prone bone position, see from the side, multiple orgasms, eren nuts in and on her lmao, lots of dirty talk, an ‘i love you’ confession bc they’re so obsessed with each other, eren has a god complex andddd i think that’s it lmao/// wc: 5.2k

new message from renny ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

i’m in the city. i wanna see u.

the cursor of your laptop circled around his message, a giddy smile spreading across your lips. you clicked on the message, your manicured fingers typing messages upon messages of how much you missed him, and couldn’t wait to see him.

it had been almost a month since you last saw eren. after your sexcapdes on his tour bus eren had invited you to join him on his pj to the next city, and you had no other choice but to say yes! that dick was entirely too good to pass up.

you can happily say you’ve now joined the mile high club, because the second you got on the jet eren demanded privacy so he could indulge in you once more. you were sure jean and his security team could hear your screams of pleasure, the way you begged for eren to fuck you harder, deeper, but you didn’t care in the slightest.

after turning his bones into mush from your ridiculous riding skills, eren returned the favor by fucking you in mating press until your eyes crossed, and drool was slipping past your puffy lips.

your night in his hotel went the exact same way. eren folded you into every position he could while you chanted his name like a prayer, soaking the hotel sheets with your essence. he liked you. he liked the way you had just as much stamina as him. he liked that you were just as nasty as him, like how you stuck your tongue out for him to spit on, or how you begged him to put you in a chokehold while he hit it from the back.

what he really liked about you though, was the way you looked at him. eren already a sort of god complex, and you definitely didn’t help the way you looked at him as if he created the moon and stars.

after a very tearful goodbye on your end you headed back to your city, but that didn’t stop you from texting everyday. sometimes he replied, sometimes he didn’t because of his busy schedule. he always did call you though, usually it’d be past midnight but that didn’t matter to you—especially when he’d always say bye to you by tapping his tip against the screen, muttering a sultry ‘we miss you.’

new message from renny ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

i miss u too mama.

send your addy, i’m coming to you.

you squealed into the soft cotton of your sheets, your sock covered feet kicking wildly against your mattress. thee eren yeager was about to come to your lil ol’ apartment, like this couldn’t be real.

you carefully typed out your address, your toes wiggling in excitement. you shut your laptop and rolled out of bed, quickly shuffling your feet to your closet.

you figured he’d have you out of your clothes minutes after he got here, so you settled on ditching your pajamas, and wearing just your pink robe.

message sent to renny ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

are u gonna do all that stuff you said in your messages?

you pupils dilated when the gray bubble popped up, your teeth clamping onto your bottom lip. eren texted you a lot of dirty promises, making you squirt on his dick in the prone bone position being the one you were most excited for.

whenever you were bored at work, or before you fell asleep at night, you’d imagine him having you in a tight chokehold while he fucked into your sore pussy from behind. that usually led to you sending eren explicit videos of your rubbing your pulsing pussy desperately, whining n’ babbling about how you wish it were him making you cum instead.

eren would only make it worse by feeding into it. while he recorded himself stroking his cock, he’d be growling out filthy praises about your cute cunt and how good she’d feel wrapped around him.

new message from renny ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

you’ll see

[attachment: 1 imagine]

just know i’m ready, been thinking about your pretty pussy all day.

a whine bubbled in your chest as you zoomed in on live photo of his very prominent print. his tatted hand was gripping onto it, and if you clicked on it, the live photo would show him squeezing it softly. the cuban chain on his wrist glistened obnoxiously from the flash—you couldn’t wait to the feel the cold metal against your neck when he choked you.

you loosened the knot on your robe, exposing your breasts more than they already were. your nipples were peeking out, giving eren just the perfect peek to what is to come.

message sent to renny ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

hurry up :((

[attachment: 1 image]

while you were giggling to yourself, eren was gripping his phone in frustration. he needed you, now. ever since he last saw you all he could think about was you. your face, your scent, your voice, your pretty moans. he was totally smitten.

“we’ll be arriving shortly,” the driver said in a monotone voice. eren hummed, unlocking his phone to tell you he was almost there.

he was thankful you didn’t leave in the city, the last thing he would want are fans or paparazzi invading your privacy. but it was california after all, and unfortunately there were rumors he was seen at a hotel with a mystery girl, but he made sure his team squashed those rumors from circulating any further. fame can be intense, he’d be crushed if his lifestyle scared you away.

“m’not sure how long i’ll be here so, uh, just tell jean i said don’t wait up,” eren’s tone was cool as he spoke, but inside he was actually excited to see you. he pulled his hoodie up, scoping the scene before stepping out of the car. as eren walked towards your apartment building he heard—

‘psst! up here!’

he slowly looked up and there you were, standing on your balcony, wearing nothing but a robe and a pair of slippers. your hair gently moved with the light breeze, and you had the giddiest smile on your lips—this shit felt like it was a scene out of movie.

you bounced on the balls of your feet as you waited for eren to make it to your door, and finally you heard three knocks. you couldn’t deny that you were nervous—he was a celebrity after all. someone who was known globally and loved by many, he was just a very intimidating guy.

the second you opened the door, you were yanking him in by his hoodie, your chests clashing together. “damn girl, miss me?” eren grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist. you bit your lip, looking at him with nothing but swirls of love and lust in your eyes. “yeah, i did.” eren nudged his nose against yours, blindly kicking the door shut behind him and locking it.

when he heard the click! his lips were on yours, a strong scent of vanilla and jasmine hitting his nose. “w-was the flight here okay? you look tired,” your hands cupped his jaw as you examined the under his eyes. you way you looked at him and touched with such care, as if it were natural, had eren feeling things. weird things. he always told others he’d probably never fall for a fan yet here he was, leaning into your touch like a lovesick puppy.

“yeah it was fine. just been a busy week is all, but don’t worry about that. it’s good to see you. you look good. i look this robe on you.”

when he smiled you saw flashes on gold on his teeth, and that had a gush of wetness dripping from your pussy. “thanks . . . i like your grills. like a lot.” eren breathed heavily through his nose when your thumb ran over his bottom lip, getting a closer look at the grills.

you whined when his lips smushed into yours again, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. you parted your lips, and he wasted no time slithering his tongue into your mouth, groaning when your tongue swiped across his grills. “take this shit off,” eren’s fingers fumbled with the strings on your robe, slowly pushing it off your shoulders when the knot was undone.

you puffed your naked chest out, giggling because you had left eren utterly speechless. he stepped closer to you, and then closer, and closer until you were backed up against the wall. “i’d try to keep my legs steady if i were you,” his breath was hot on your neck, sending shivers up your spine.

your hands pushed against his hard chest when his hand pushed between your thighs, his ring and middle finger dipping between your folds. “y’know i had to postpone so much shit because i just couldn’t go another day without seein’ you? doesn’t that sound insane? we barely know each other, yet i just can’t get you or this pretty pussy outta my head.”

your lips trembled, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers rolled around you swollen clit. “g-good. i did what i was supposed to do when we fucked then,” your words had eren groaning, his head dipping into your neck to kiss and suck at the sweet smelling skin. he kissed his way down your neck, and eventually your chest, taking his time as he rolled his tongue around each nipple.

he kissed the skin above your naval, smirking at the hello kitty jewelry pierced into the skin. “such a pretty girl, knew you were special the second i saw you in the crowd,” and it was true! out of all the fans that were in the audience, you caught his attention the most. the cheered the loudest, knew the words to every song, and you looked damn good sharing a blunt with your friends as you sung along to his songs.

your back slumped against the wall when you felt his hot tongue circle your clit, his hands snaking behind you to grab at your ass cheeks. every slurp and suck had your legs shaking, so much so that eren just said fuck it and threw your knees over his shoulders.

he was a sloppy eater. his tongue switched from french kissing your clit, to fucking into your clenching hole, all while moaning drunkenly against your pussy. you weren’t scared to rough him up either, your hands tangling themselves in his hair and fucking his mouth. “m’so close renny.”

that only encouraged eren to increase his assault on your clit, flicking the bud back and forth until your thighs were clamping around his head. wave after wave of your cum coated his tongue, and eren happily lapped up all of it. god, you were fucking sweet.

you gasped when eren lifted you off his shoulders, “w-wait stay close to me.” eren nearly lost his balance when you jumped into his arms, your legs wrapping around his slim waist. out of instinct eren cupped your behind, holding you closely to him. “i wasn’t goin’ nowhere mama, now where’s yours bedroom?”

you gave eren directions to your bedroom, all while you were kissing his neck and jaw. “it’s cute in here. it’s really . . . pink,” eren chuckled as he looked around your room. what caught his attention the most was the mountain of plushies on your bed, all varying from sanrio characters to anime characters.

he laid you down gently on your bed, smirking at the pout on your glossy lips. “thank you. now drop your pants m’hungry,” your pink, freshly pedicured foot pressed down on the bulge in his sweats, then pushed against his abdomen. eren lifted your foot up and kissed your ankle, “whatever you want baby.”

eren shed his hoodie and sweats, leaving him in a white wife beater and briefs. you eyed the small, wet patch stained into his briefs, your mouth watering at what was hiding underneath. you sat up, your arm hooking around his thick thigh to pull him closer. eren’s head tilted back when you mouthed at the print in his briefs, your tongue lolling out to lick at the wet patch.

your teeth clamped onto the waistband of his briefs, tugging them down until they were mid thigh. eren’s jaw dropped the tiniest bit when you nuzzled your face into his cock, your tongue peeking out to lick at the base. “c’mon. open that pretty mouth,” his tongue ran over the gold on his teeth as he watched you like a predator stalking its prey.

your mouth parted once more, sucking the tip of his cock in your mouth. you hummed around the muscle, your mouth watering at the salty, yet very sweet taste of him.

“let me fuck your mouth, pretty girl. open up,” you whimpered around eren’s dick as he pushed more into your mouth, strings of saliva dripping from your lips and onto your thighs. your tongue rubbed over the protruding veins on the underside, this earned you a pat on the head, followed by eren cradling your jaw. his thumb ran over the bulge in your cheek, “you’re so pretty.”

you took more of his cock into your mouth until your nose nudged against soft tufts of hair. suddenly you felt a hand squeeze at your throat, the action had you choking around his cock, fat tears now running down your cheeks. “ooou shit, that was tight. do it again for me, baby.” he squeezed at your throat ever so softly as he fucked it, his head tilting back out of pure pleasure. seriously, where have you been all his life.

your cheeks hollowed around his dick, sucking harshly until he had to pull you away by your hair, a thin line of spit still connected to your lips. “mmph, hang your head off the bed. you know what to do.”

indeed you did. after a night of dirty texting you found out that eren was quite fond of throat fucking—especially if a girls head was hanging off the side while he did it. there was something about hearing those violent gags and chokes that had his balls tightening every time he thought about it.

you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, even though you’ll just get messy literally all over again, and laid down on your back, your head hanging slightly off the side. eren took this opportunity to grasp at your tits, flicking your pretty brown nipples with his thumbs. the cool metal from his rings had them hardening in seconds.

“mm so pretty, now open up gorgeous,” eren tapped his tip against your lips, chuckling when you stuck your tongue out to get the exact same treatment. he rubbed the tip of his cock over the curves of your lips, before running it over your tongue. you greedily swallowed the pre that dribbled onto your tongue.

without warning, eren thrust his hips forward, sheathing more than half his cock down your tight throat. hot tears already began to brim at your lash line as he began a steady pace, the obnoxious noise of you gagging echoing throughout your room. “mmph, good lil fuckin’ throat. you’re fuckin’ perfect y/n ‪‪❤︎‬” eren’s head tilted back in a moan, his adams apple bobbing.

he preferred his head very sloppy, and you were perfect for that. you didn’t mind the spit bubbles that foamed up at the corners of your lips, or the snot that trickled from your nose. you were fine with all of it. all just to please him. his hips stuttered when your hand reached up to toy with his balls. “fu-ck yeah, play wit’ ‘em while you suck it. that’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

his praise had your heart fluttering, and your pussy drooling with need. you were perfect for him. that’s all you could’ve asked for.

your nails dug into eren’s muscly thighs when his hips pushed forward, forcing the entirety of his cock down your throat. you suddenly felt something warm in the back of your throat, and hummed. it wasn’t until you were choking pretty hard that eren pulled out, his half had cock resting on your face. your thighs clenched together when the musky scent that was him wafted into your nose.

“heh, cute. you ready for me to fuck you now mama?”

your tongue ran along his cock, savoring the taste of him, “i love your dick ren, could stay here forever.” eren’s head tilted back as you sloppily kissed all over the base of his cock. he was fully hard once again in no time, the veins on the underside thrumming against your puffy lips.

he backed up to give you some room to get up, only for you to yank him back again. you propped your chin on his hard stomach, batting your freshly done lashes up at him. “what position you want me in renny, m’all yours please tell me what to do.”

there was that look again. that fucking look. that look where you stared at him like he was reason for your very existence. “i’ll do anything you want,” you murmured, pressing little kisses all across his abdomen. you whimpered when eren used both hands to grip your jaw, forcing your gaze at him.

“i think i might love you.”

he didn’t know what kinda fucked up shit this was but he didn’t even care, he loved it. he loved . . . you ❤︎

his pretty lil fan girl. his number one fan. someone that would kiss the ground he walked on if he asked. you were perfect.

“that’s really sweet renny, but i think you’re just high and tired,” you giggled, teeth clamping onto your bottom lip. “you sayin’ you don’t love me back baby?” eren grinned, moving one of his hands to your throat, squeezing rather roughly. he needed to hear you say it, even if you didn’t mean it.

“of course i love you ren. loved you since you first debuted, i knew i had to get my hands on you. now look at you; in my very pink room, telling me you love me because im the best you’ve ever had.”

he couldn’t even object or give snarky remark back because unfortunately you were right.

his hands moved to your shoulders, gently pushing you back.

“i may be high, and i may be a little tired, but i do know that i really like you.” his teeth nibbled on his bottom lip as his hands wandered across your naked body.

“well good. i don’t ever wanna see anything about you and other girls in the blogs again or i’ll block you ‘kay?” eren was laughing until you interrupted him saying a monotone ‘i mean it.’

he leant over you, his chain dangling over your face. his thick brows were pulled together, and if you looked close enough you could see the pout on his lips. of course he’d only see you, but the thought of getting blocked by you had his heart tightening. “i only want you to myself from now on, can you handle that superstar?”

eren gasped when your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer to you. his dick sat right between your sopping folds, the tip nudging deliciously against your clit.

“fuck, yes. yes i can handle it, i can’t handle being blocked by you though. best fuckin’ pussy i’ve ever had y/n ❤︎. don’t break my heart like that,” he rocked his hips slowly, coating his cock in your essence. you had him right in the palm of your hand and god, it felt so good. “don’t make me write some corny love songs about you, because i will.”

“would that really be so bad? i wouldn’t mind having a song written about me.”

“i’ll write one for you anyway, i’ll write ten fucking songs about you and this pussy, shit,” eren’s nostrils flared the tip of his cock accidentally slid into your pussy. he couldn’t help but just bottom out completely, his balls sitting snuggly against your ass.

your mouth parted, a breathy moan slipping past your lips. “mm, do it. i dare you renny.” eren just moaned in response, his eyes fluttering shut. heaven. this was heaven.

“i will baby, i will. i pr-promise.”

each time he pulled out a loud squelch followed. you sucked the cross attached to his chain in your mouth, whimpering around the cool metal. eren settled for fast, deep thrusts, the angry tip of his cock bumping harshly into that spongy spot deep inside you. “so fuckin’ hot. you’re so fuckin’ hot,” eren was damn near panting like a dog, his tongue dangerously close to dangling out of his mouth.

your body moved up slightly with each hard thrust, your breasts bouncing wildly in his face. the sharp canine part of eren’s grill grazed your nipple, his hot tongue coming out a second later to soothe the sting. “you smell so good, y-you’re so good.” embarrassingly enough eren’s thrusts were already getting sloppy. he was close.

“are you about to cum? hm? gonna nut in my pussy ren?” all eren could do would moan, his face nuzzling itself into the crook of your neck. you sobbed out eren’s name when he pushed your knees up, the angle of his thrusts reaching deeper inside you. he licked his thumb, bringing the digit to your swollen clit.

“c’mon baby, make that pussy cum. wanna feel that shit.” your legs shook violently as you second orgasm of the night hit you. eren fucked you through it, growling out curses each time a steam of your cum hit his lower stomach. his cock slipped out ad second later ribbons of cum were painting your tummy in thick, white strands.

eren’s head fell forwards, wispy strands from his disheveled half up, half down bun tickling his forehead. “shit, m’still hard girl. you’re gonna kill me,” eren’s hands cupped your face, smushing his lips against yours in a clash of tongue and teeth.

he pulled out briefly to turn you around on your tummy. “i’m gonna borrow one of those real quick,” he murmured, tatted hand reaching above you to grab one of your many plushies. he arched your back, placing the plushie underneath the pudge of your stomach. “comfortable mama?” his nose nudged against your cheek, his lashes tickling you.

“yeah . . . put it in.” eren tapped the tip of his cock against your clit before slipping in, groaning at the warmth that welcomed him. he yanked your hair back, exposing your neck. “o-ohhh fuck,” your eyes rolled into the back of your skull when eren’s bicep hooked around your neck, putting you in the perfect chokehold. not too tight, but not too lose either. his strokes were slow, but deep, allowing you to feel every vein and ridge on his dick against your sensitive walls.

“this what you wanted the most right? always talkin’ about my muscles, you satisfied now baby?” all you could do was moan pathetically, nodding your head rapidly. “you’re g’nna make me cum again renny, y-you’re gonna make me cum!” your feet kicked wildly against the bed, tears free falling from your cheeks and onto your sheets.

eren grunted, tightening his hold on your neck, “do it.” your body thrashed beneath him, shaking violently as your orgasm hit you in intense waves. the soft cotton of your sheets was basically rubbing your clit raw, adding way more overstimulation than you needed.

eren’s thrusts were relentless, his pace never once faltering as you came. he pressed his hips snuggly against your ass, rolling his hips until you were clawing at the sheets. “keep fucking me l-like that, god yes!” eren groaned, pulling his hips all the way back before slamming back in.

“thas’ right baby, m’your god. your everything,” his teeth nibbled at your ear, licking over the shell of. ugh yes he was your everything :(( you loved him, you adored him, you were his biggest fan. you’d do anything for him if it meant you got fucked like this on a regular.

“hah! ah! ah! o-oh shittt,” you sobbed out, tears soaking your chubby cheeks. eren cursed under his breath when his dick slipped out, a stream of your cum following seconds after. you clawed at the sheets, trying to get out of his grip, but eren kept you steady, shushing your whines with kisses.

“no more renny,” you whimpered, your face nuzzling into the crook of his bicep. “ngh, you don’t mean that baby,” he cooed at you, pressing a kiss to the side of your face.

eren laid on his side, pulling you close to his chest. his heart was beating so fast, it felt like he was high. this must be what people call being ‘pussydrunk’ because he swears if he was asked to speak a full sentence he’d fail.

he lifted your thigh up, slipping his cock between your folds. your body quivered, arching against his chest. “you wanna be my girlfriend? c’mon i know you wanna say yes, just say it,” you didn’t even have time to process his words before his tip was slowly sliding in. the question must’ve been good right? you’ll just say yes.

you squeaked out a yes! when he bottomed out, your backside pushing against his pelvis. he couldn’t believe you actually said yes, he couldn’t believe he actually even asked you that. what were you doing to this poor man?

eren hiked your thigh up, starting up a fallow n’ shallow pace. his lips crashed into yours, moaning into your mouth with a scrunched up face. “we’ll figure somethin’ out, you just—just gotta be mine.”

“i will renny—hah! all i’ve ever wanted is to be yours.” your thighs clamped around eren’s wrist when you felt his fingers strum against your clit. most people would look at you like you were nuts for even accepting such an offer, but they wouldn’t understand. you’ve loved eren and his craft since he first debuted six years ago. his music got through some of the hardest times of your life and for that you were eternally grateful to him—so yes, you’ll worship the ground he walks on and love him like no other.

his free hand shimmied underneath your back, wrapping around your waist. god he was so fucking close. he needed you as close as possible.

“cum with me mama. i’m about to nut, c’mon take it, take it, take ittt,” his hips pushed up against your backside one last time, emptying his balls inside you for what won’t be the last time tonight. he just needed a breather.

your body thrashed against his as you came with a scream. eren covered your mouth, whispering filthy praises in your ear as you rode our your high. he stayed snugly inside you, caressing your stomach with light touches.

it was silent for ten minutes as you both caught your breath, eren not once loosening his grip on you, he didn’t even pull out when you turned around to face him.

“you meant what you said right? about me being your girlfriend?” eren cracked an eye open and was met with your brown ones staring right back at him. was he sure about this? i mean the man didn’t even really know you like that but . . . fuck it, why not. he shrugged, brushing his hair out of his face. “yeah, as long as we keep it on the dl for now. i got a lot—”

“that won’t work.”

eren’s brows furrowed, “what do you mean that won’t work? you’re not in charge here at the end of the day.”

two days later . . .

‘breaking news! well known musician eren yeager was recently seen out shopping in beverly hills with what looks like a new boo! my, my look at all those shopping bags, seems like this girl has got our boy whipped! we believe this is the same girl he was seen with, about a month ago, heading into a hotel in chicago. fans are buzzing like crazy trying to find out who this mystery girl is! it seems to be she has no social media, but never fear my sources are working day and night to find out who she is! until then this is . . .’

jean shut off the tv, pure anger radiating off of him. “you wanna tell me what that’s all about? who the fuck even is this girl—”

“i’m his girlfriend,” you came from around the corner, wearing nothing but one of eren’s shirts. you approached eren from behind, where he was sitting on the couch, a bored look on his face as usual. he visibly relaxed when he felt your hands massage his shoulders. “yeah, she’s right. as of two days ago we’re official.” eren turned his head to press a kiss to the top of your hand.

“eren, you still have the international leg of your tour to do! there’s no way you can focus on that with a distraction—” eren let out a long sigh, his head flopping against the back of the couch. “jean, you’re really not talking about shit i wanna hear right now.” he just wanted to spend time with you, granted you both had been holed up in his hotel room for two days, besides the random shopping trip you just had to go on.

you weren’t a fan of keep your relationship a secret, hence why you made him take your ass the most expensive strip mall you could find. you’d never shopped in a luxury store that was completely empty until eren made his security clear the area so you two could shop in peace. he had so much power over people, it turned you on a lot.

“she’s not gonna be a distraction. she’s gonna come on tour with me, and keep me company. i’d ask if was a problem, but i really don’t give a shit. i pay you entirely too much for you to be bitching at me like that.”

jean’s mouth parted, but no words came out. it wasn’t uncommon for eren to talk to him like that, but it was certainly new to have an audience watching.

you combed your fingers through eren’s hair, frowning at the annoyed look on his face. “is there anything else you wanna discuss?” eren’s ring clad finger tapped against the couch impatiently. jean looked at eren, then you, then back to eren, and back to you. “ah, no. i guess that’ll be all eren.”

“i need you to schedule me a session at the studio, m’workin’ on a new song,” eren called out just as jean was about to shut the door. “dumbass better have heard me.”

he looked up at you through his lashes, “i know i sound a little harsh, but if you’re not an asshole to that guy he’ll run you over. only reason he still has a job is because he’s damn good at it.”

you shrugged, making your way around the couch to sit on eren’s lap. you wrapped your arms around his neck, “i don’t care about none of that. now tell me about this song you’re writing! what’s it about?”

“i think you know what it’s about, mama.”

[ariestrxsh]

bsf!chris x bsf!reader

🤍 content warning: smut, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, sexualization of religious imagery

🤍 summary: after a date gone bad, your best friend chris is there to make you feel better with his cock

this fic was inspired/requested by this ask that was sent in forever ago (and it was also inspired/requested by someone who asked for a plot where reader goes to chris for comfort after a bad date but I forgot to save their ask </3)

angel like u

꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱

You buried your face into Chris' chest, tears staining the front of his shirt, but he didn't mind at all. He didn't mind the tear stains, and he didn't mind that you'd interrupted him playing video games on stream. All that he cared about was that you were okay.

He cradled your head with one hand, and with the other, he tenderly rubbed your back. You hadn't even been able to explain to your best friend why you were so upset yet, and he still held you against his chest, smoothing down your hair.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said in a comforting voice. You pulled away, sniffled, and looked up at him with your big, misty eyes. "It's embarrassing, really," you started off, wiping away a tear with the sleeve of your sweater.

He listened quietly without judgment as you continued on. "I went on a first date with a guy, and I don't usually do this, but we were getting along really well. So I went back to his place, and things got a little heated," you started to tell him, searching for his reaction and hoping he didn't think differently of you.

"What happened?" Chris sharply asked, clenching his jaw and imagining the worst-case scenario. "It's not that it was bad or anything. It's just that he didn't make me.." you started to say, but you turned away, too flustered to finish your sentence.

"He didn't make you.. cum?" Chris speculated. "Exactly," you said, somewhat relieved that Chris had finished your sentence for you.

"He came, and then it was just over. He didn't even try to get me off after or even cuddle with me. I just put my clothes back on, he told me he didn't feel anything for me, and then he suggested that he take me home," you admitted, your lip quivering and your eyes welling with tears again.

"What an asshole," Chris muttered under his breath, wiping away your mascara-stained tears from your cheek with his thumb.

"I didn't want to cry in front of him, and I didn't want to be alone, so I asked him to take me here since it was only a few minutes away. I hope you don't mind that I just showed up unannounced on your doorstep, sobbing at midnight," you apologetically said.

"Of course I don't mind. You know I'm here for you whenever you need it," Chris comforted you. "Thank you, Chris," you replied, pulling him into another hug, tightly gripping the fabric of his shirt as if he'd float away if you let go.

"Boys like that don't deserve angels like you. How are you feeling right now, pretty girl?" Chris wondered, resting his head against yours.

"I know I agreed to it, but I just feel so used, you know? I feel stupid for giving it up on the first date. And listen, I know this is weird, but I still feel kind of.." your voice trailed off as you cracked an embarrassed smile.

"Turned on?" Chris guessed, finishing your thought again.

"Yeah, I mean, it was good up until he stopped. I was so close," you admitted, almost forgetting you were talking to your male best friend instead of your therapist. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry. You didn't need to know that," you buried your head in your hands after your confession.

Chris let out a small chuckle, caressing your back with his fingertips again. "You don't have to be embarrassed to tell me things like that. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything, but I could, you know, finish you off if you'd like," Chris offered, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips as his gaze fell to your mouth.

Your eyebrows flew up. "Y-you'd do that?" You asked, seriously considering his proposal. "Yeah. I hate seeing you cry," Chris whispered, wiping away another tear as it fell. "If I could go back in time and make sure the whole situation didn't happen to begin with, I would. Making you feel good is the least I can do."

He tilted your chin up to look at him, searching your face for permission to kiss you. "What do you say? You want me to make you cum?" He sweetly asked, his gaze lingering on yours. "Yes. Pleeease, Chris," you softly begged, the words surprising you as they tumbled from your mouth in such a desperate manner.

He smirked down at you before his eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned in, his lips gently meeting yours. It started off slow - a few soft pecks here and there and a gentle caress of his fingertips along your jawline, sending goosebumps across your warm skin.

Before you knew it, the two of you had been swept up in the moment. His lips passionately engulfed yours, and his velvet-like tongue gently brushed against yours, filling your mouth with the taste of a blue raspberry-flavored piece of candy he'd eaten shortly before.

You softly moaned into his mouth, the vibration tickling his lips and sending blood rushing below his waist. He reached up your shirt, gently pinching your sensitive nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. He pulled your top off over your head and admired the sight of you half-nude on his bed.

His hand wandered to the button of your jeans, and he slipped his long, slender fingers into your waistband. He gasped and pinched his eyebrows together when he felt how wet you were, his face only a few inches from yours as he explored your folds.

You relaxed against his body, a few breathy, textured moans spilling from your lips. "Let's get you out of these," Chris suggested, removing his hand from your waistband and motioning for you to lift your hips, so he could pull your jeans and your panties off of you and have better access to you.

Once you were completely naked, you leaned back on Chris' bed and slowly parted your legs, showing yourself off to him. "Look at that. She's so happy to see me," Chris seductively cooed, sliding his middle finger up and down your slit. You shuddered at the sensation and his words.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your best friend toyed with you, spreading open your labia and admiring how pretty and pink it was. He placed two digits at your entrance and watched them slowly disappear into your drooling hole.

"You weren't kidding. You are turned on," Chris observed, pumping his fingers and slightly curling them. You bit back a moan and grasped at the bedsheets beneath you. "Don't be shy. I wanna hear you," Chris responded with a smile on his face, indicating to you that he didn't care that his brothers were asleep upstairs.

You nodded and released your lower lip from between your teeth. As Chris picked up the pace, another sensual sound tore through you, but you didn't hold back this time. "That's it," Chris purred.

You peered down at the way he pistoned his fingers deep inside of you, your eyes traveling to the silver chain around his wrist and his prominent veins on his arms. With his blue eyes locked on yours, he lowered his head between your thighs and took your clit into his mouth.

You jumped and squealed at the feeling of his soft tongue exploring you, fluttering around on your needy pussy. He closed his lips down around your sensitive bundle of nerves and started gently suckling on it.

"Oh, Chris," his name fell from your lips as your tipped your hand back and started combing through his soft, brown hair with your hand. He worked tirelessly, his mouth and his fingers caressing your sensitive flesh, and he was determined to do so until you were finishing all over his tongue.

"Chris.." you whispered, his name falling from your lips again, but this time in a tone that indicated that you needed something from him. He peered up at you with his perfectly blue eyes and his drunk expression as he drank from your center. "Hmm?" He hummed against your clit, causing you to raise your hips and grind against his face.

"Your tongue feels heavenly, but I need more. Please," you requested. "More?" He asked, pulling away for a moment. You reached down and gently tugged on the collar of his shirt. "I need you to fuck me, Chris," the words tumbled out of you with fervor.

He was towering over you while you laid on your back, staring up at him like he was a god whose cock was going to bring you eternal salvation. He pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing his gorgeous body to you that had become more muscular in these recent months due to how often he'd been working out.

Your eyes danced over his chest, his stomach, and the prominent lines on his lower abdomen that directed your attention to his hard on that was struggling against the grey cotton of his sweatpants.

Before you had time to take in just how flawless he looked shirtless, he was hooking his thumbs in his waistband and tugging down his bottoms. His dick sprung out, and your gaze followed the way it gently bobbed.

"You ready, angel?" Chris asked, positioning himself between your legs. You stared down at his smooth, pink cockhead that was glistening with precum, and you nodded. Your jaw fell slack at the initial stretch as he pushed the tip into your weeping hole. Chris was much thicker than the man you'd been with earlier that night.

"So big.." you whimpered as he pushed it in a little deeper. A smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I know, angel," he said in a breathy groan as you fluttered around him. He started to rock his hips back and forth, inserting more of his length with every thrust. You let out a relieved sigh as he found your gspot, and your eyes rolled around in your head.

Chris gazed down at you beneath him, arms outstretched and tightly gripping his soft sheets. You loved the way he looked hovering above you, his flushed cheeks, his desire-filled blue eyes, and his pouty, pink lips parted as the room filled with his moans.

You felt his hand brush against the inside of your thigh as he spread your legs open further. His thumb found your clit, and he started moving it in circles as he drove himself into you over and over again. You let your sounds of pleasure pour from your lips with reckless abandon as Chris skillfully brought you to the edge.

You felt that divine feeling brewing deep within your core as Chris drilled his cock into you at an increasingly harder and faster pace. He could feel you sucking him in, and the way your pussy was throbbing around him. "You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl?" He purred, looking into your eyes. "Mhmm," you hummed back desperately.

"How many times?" He asked, smiling down at you. His question surprised you. The man you'd gone on the date with couldn't even make you orgasm once, and now Chris was offering multiple? You were nearly too fucked out to answer him, but you regained your composure long enough to tell him, "three."

"Three? Greedy girl," he teased you, still making circles on your clit with his fingers as he rammed his tip into your gspot. "Show me what you've got, angel," Chris whispered, jolting his hips into you in a rhythmic pattern that he loved the way you reacted to.

Before you knew it, he was driving you over the edge, and your muscles tightened around him before you started to shake violently. You practically screamed in pleasure as you came on his cock, clenching around him uncontrollably which made it hard for him to hold on until your second orgasm, never mind your third. You felt the tension leave your body.

You'd been waiting all night for this feeling, and as you were sinking into the pleasure rippling throughout your system, you felt a second wave coming on. The pressure built so quickly this time, but the release was just as incredible as the first, resulting in you curling your toes and tearing at the sheets beneath you.

Chris was holding on for dear life, trying to get you to your third climax before he let himself cum, and with every powerful thrust into your drooling cunt, the harder it became for him to control his orgasm. He was begging to finish inside of you.

However, he maintained his stamina, pistoning into you at the perfect speed and pressure to get you what you asked for without giving in just yet. You trembled as you came onto his length a third time, leaving a thick ring of white at the base of his shaft.

Once you were completely spent, he snapped his hips forward and held them still, a guttural moan passing through his lips while he pumped you full of his heavenly substance. You could feel him release his load into you, his cock pulsating in your hole and leaving you with an incredible post-orgasmic state. He slowly pulled himself out of you, admiring the beautiful mess he'd left behind.

"How was that, angel? How do you feel?" Chris asked, checking in with you and cradling your face in his palm as he ran his thumb across your cheek. You smiled in sheer bliss, your chest still rising and falling as you caught your breath.

"That was divine. Your cock is like heaven," you whispered into his ear. "Well, angels like you are who heaven was made for," he whispered back.

[bunnyhugs77]

Mr. Take Your Bitch

Pairing: Idol! Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Content Warning: jk is a little cocky, player! jk, reader gets flustered so easily, jk is such a tease, smooth talker jk, clubbing, ft bts, interviews, reader is small (like 5'1), insults, alcohol consumption, infidelity, readers boyfriend is an asshole, mentions of smoking, impulsive jk, what happens in vegas stays in vegas, messyyy, suggestive themes, sweet gestures.

Other Content: hair pulling, manhandling, oral sex (f! receiving), squirting, missionary, jk splits reader in half, big dick! jk, doggy style, dacryphilia, praise and degradation, cream pies, minor possessive jk, unprotected sex (be better than them), recording.

"How do I look?" Sunny tosses the perfectly sculpted curls in her hair once more, pouting in the dressing room mirror, making sure that not a strand was out of place.

"For the eighth time, you look great, as always." She stands, her red off-the-shoulder top accenting her white pencil skirt and perfect figure, she really did look gorgeous. "Great isn't enough. This is the first time I'm interviewing THE BTS. I need to look perfect."

"You do. I promise." You reassure with a comforting right hand on her shoulder while you center her necklace with your left. "Y/n, we need you out here to help set up." Your manager cracks the door open to call for you briefly before leaving.

"I still cannot believe you dragged me into this coffee girl job just for you to get close to Namjoon." Sunny's full lips stretch from ear to ear showing off her million-dollar smile, "What's so wrong about me wanting you nearby for emotional support? But at least I got you a job out of it, 3 weeks ago you were on the brink of poverty.'' Her arms crossed and you had to admit, she did have a point.

"What was the whole point of this again?" You simply had to ask, remembering the midnight phone call Sunny surprised you with about a month ago when she landed the Hybe interviewer position.

"Remember the story I told you about, in Junior year, me and this boy from math camp snuck out 6 miles away with fake IDs and got shitfaced at the nearest bar then hooked up but I never got his name and he was in the middle of signing my journal we were interrupted and I never saw him again until-"

"You saw Namjoon's face on a billboard in Seoul, and you took this opportunity to get close to see if it was him or not. Yes, I remember now, it's all coming back to me." You finish her story for her.

"Exactly, and-"

"--Y/n, sometime today would be great." Your manager interrupts once again and you leave, apologizing frantically for making them wait, not wanting to lose this job. It actually paid pretty well considering all you did was make drinks.

Walking out of the dressing room, ignoring the buzz in the back pocket of your jeans as you followed your manager to the coffee cart offset. Although from here you had a perfect view of where the interview would take place.

They set it up to be very stylish and modern with BTS albums and concept photos placed strategically around the set within the camera shot. Along with a small coffee table, one chair on one side where Sunny would sit and seven on the other side.

It almost gave you chills to think about. The fact that in a few moments, the most popular boy band in the continent would be sitting right there. All seven of them, including the tempting one.

The one who makes you stumble over your words every time he comes down to the first floor to get a coffee even though there's a gazillion other places to get something to drink in the building.

Every time you see him, he's displaying a new style. Sometimes he comes down stacked with complex layers of clothing and covered in jewelry, or with nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, although the latter was possibly the worst of your few interactions. He's just so handsome, it made you want to squirm.

That day he was saying all the right things, yet saying nothing at all. Asking you simple questions like when you started working here, and if you liked coffee, meanwhile all you could mutter was an embarrassing 'yes'. What exactly you were saying yes to? You may never know.

You turned your back to the set and focused on making the pre-ordered drinks the members had sent down with their manager beforehand. By the time you turned back around Sunny was sitting in her place, anxious but ready.

You've been best friends since the 6th grade. She's incredibly outgoing and sociable, a balancing contrast to your more introverted nature although you could be a little extroverted with some alcohol in your system.

She was born for this job, you're sure she'll kill the interview. She mentioned that she'd bumped into a few of the members since she started working a month ago, but not Namjoon.

She definitely underestimated how hard it would be to 'bump' into a man who is guarded by security constantly and extremely busy, not to mention rarely in the country.

Hoseok was the first one to walk in, looking sharp as ever in casual attire but he he made it look incredible. Next was Jimin, and you noticed the way Sunny's eyes nearly widened when she finally saw Namjoon walk in behind Tae.

Finally, they were all inside and all greeted Sunny with a friendly hug and you can see she enjoyed her hug with Namjoon a little too much. Somehow finding something small to laugh about with him as they pulled away.

With an empty cup in your hand, you watched the most handsome group of men you've ever seen, file into the room and take a seat. "Go set these down before cameras start rolling." You feel a tap on your shoulder from another worker.

Did you zone out?

You placed a firm hand on your chest, taking a deep breath before placing a sturdy grip on the handles of the cart and bringing their beverages over. 'One foot in front of the other' you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the feeling of their gazes turning to you as you got closer.

Unable to look any of them in the eyes as you set down their drinks on the table saying the name of each one so they know which one is theirs.

You could feel his gaze on you whilst Sunny got to witness it first hand from where she sat. The way his jaw slowly clenches with each passing moment, watching you with dark, intense eyes. In that moment, the world around him blurred, and all that remained was the captivating image of you.

It was while you were placing down the final cup that you felt bold enough to finally look up from the table, glancing at Jimin who was talking to Hoseok on his right. Slowly your line of sight inches up and over his head to Jungkook who was sitting on a taller chair behind him.

He was looking right at you.

And that was more than enough for you to return to the cart and retreat to your station. The boys reached for their cups as the countdown to the interview began.

You watched with engaged eyes from the sidelines as the interview began, going through basic introductions and standard questions, you were listening along to the jokes made along the way.

It seemed they were having a great time out there, but you couldn't focus on all of them for too long. You wouldn't be doing your duties as Sunny's best friend if you didn't watch Namjoon's every move; including how he seemed to be the first one to answer almost any of her questions.

The questions were flying by and the discussion was so entertaining to watch but it was over before you even registered it. Sure, cameras had stopped rolling but they were all still talking.

You felt another buzz in your pocket, finally deciding to check.

 Daehyun: Are you still mad? It's been 2 days, you're being dramatic. 12:02 pm

 Daehyun: Why aren't you answering my texts? 1:12 pm

 Daehyun: Fine. Keep ignoring me. Real mature, Y/n. 1:13 pm

You scoff at the messages.

Unbelievable.

Your boyfriend has left you astonished. Again!

You put your phone back on silent, secretly wishing you'd never checked it in the first place. Muttering under your breath about what a jerk he's been to you lately but you stop yourself. Because he's still your boyfriend, and sure, he fucked up a few times, bad. It doesn't change the fact that you're in a relationship with him.

If you could even call it that.

You've slept together twice. Well- 1.5 times if you wanted to get specific. The second time was so bad that you simply had to stop it altogether and make up some excuse so that you didn't hurt his feelings.

Shaking him out of your head and focusing back on your task at hand which was collecting the empty mugs from the table. Repeating the same process as before, avoiding all eye contact, but this time you didn't look up.

You didn't bother because you already knew he was watching you.

You were intimidated but you weren't oblivious.

-

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!" You hear her from around the corner before you see her running towards you at your coffee station on the first floor. Sunny was practically bursting. You would think that she had captured the sun between her hands but it was something that would take your life for a spin, but you didn't know that yet.

"You're interview went so well!" You slip in your comment first knowing that once she says whatever she has to say, it'll go on for years.

"I know right! After you left to pack up, I was still talking to the guys and they really seemed to like me so they invited me and any +1 I want to invite on their weekend in Vegas trip tomorrow night! All expenses paid for!" Jaw-dropping wasn't the word. Knee buckling may be a better fit as you had quite literally stumbled and dropped a mug, thankfully it didn't break.

"No. No no no." You say, backing up and her entire demeanour deflated like a devastated puppy. "Why not?" You lean in close, whispering, "Because Jungkook is gonna be there--" She interrupts you, practically exploding with emotions. "Oh my god, he wants you so bad. Did you see the way he was looking at you?!" She whisper shouts.

"I know!" you plain shout out, realizing your volume needed adjusting and leaning forward onto the counter. "But he's Jeon Jungkook and I have Daehyun-" The most disgusted look runs across Sunny's face.

"I cannot believe you are even comparing the two right now. You said it yourself, one is Jeon Jungkook, and the other is Daehyun, a man you should've left in the dust months ago." Here we go again, you sigh.

"C'mon Y/n. He's an asshole, he's childish, he's bad in bed and honestly, the list should end there but no, he humiliated you in front of your family and he was caught in your sister's dm's on Christmas!!"

"It's May for god's sake and he's still stressing you out, and seeing you stressed makes me stressed. So why don't you come tomorrow, I'll keep you away from Jungkook if it comes to that, but please, you need to let loose a little and forget about him for just the weekend." She begs.

She could see you were starting to consider it.

"Please?" She pouts, giving you those same puppy eyes that convinced you to work here in the first place. "Please don't look at me like that, stop." You try to avoid her sorrowful gaze but It's like it intensifies to a point where you just can't look away, nor can you deny.

"Fine, fine. Okay, I'll go."

--

Considering you only just found out you were leaving the country yesterday, you think you did pretty good packing light but efficiently.

That's what you were thinking as you stepped behind Sunny onto the empty private jet. She'd already made arrangements to sit beside Namjoon.

She was crazy but you had to give the girl credit, she worked fast.

You weren't taking in a single thing, part of you was still in disbelief you had even seen the boys up close and personal yesterday.

This would all sink in for you in 5 years and then you'll be hit with a numbing regret of not doing things differently.

Or maybe it'll sink in for you right now, Jimin's full head of brown wavy hair is the first one you see to pop up on the plane and he flashes you a kind smile, taking a seat beside you.

He introduces himself as if you and half the world don't already know him but you engage anyway, giving him your name and the rest is history.

The flight was 11 hours so there was a lot of ground to cover between the two of you for the first 6 hours. Jimin was just such an easy person to open up with, any time you said something crazy you felt like he would have an even crazier story of his own to share.

He'd told you all about his first impressions of the guys to his first scandal that the label somehow managed to cover up because even you were in shock. It would have been over for him.

Then it was your turn, telling him about your exhausting boyfriend since it all started seven months ago.

"On Christmas?!" He shouts, "Why are you with him again?" You groan, "God you sound just like Sunny!"

The two of you were clearly enjoying your conversation while Sunny worked on getting Namjoon to talk a little bit about his past, trying to see if he really was the boy from all those years ago, but he seemed occupied reading his book and she wasn't going to interrupt him any longer. She sighs softly, looking out the window, watching the clouds fly by like art.

Meanwhile, at the front of the jet, Jungkook typed away on his laptop, sometimes blurbing some possible lyrics, but mostly keeping himself busy with a thousand rounds of Tetris. He tuned out the sound of your angelic laughter with his headphones, but it couldn't stop him from glancing to the back of the plane where you sat with Jimin every so often.

Only about an hour left before you landed and you really needed to pee but Jimin was in the way and fast asleep. You looked around, it seemed that everyone was fast asleep, but you really had to go.

Lightly tapping Jimin and asking him to let you through, he moves, half awake, just giving you enough time to pass before going back to his original position.

You exited the bathroom, nearly falling to the ground in horror when you came face to face with the man you'd nearly forgotten was on the jet. He smiles that classic bunny smile that the fans go crazy over.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He says it so sweetly, and in this hushed tone due to the late hour of the night it was making your head think things. Things that you should not be thinking about.

"You okay?" Checking in, seeing that you seemed to have zoned out mid-conversation. Shit. You were doing it again. "Y-yeah." You hated speaking to him it made you feel like you couldn't speak at all. He was just so tall, and his eyes were so big and endearing and-

"Really? Cause it looks like you've got something on your mind." It comes out in such a way that brings heat to your face, suddenly hyper-aware that everyone is asleep, and the two of you are out of sight in the narrow hall of the bathroom.

"Yeah, just excited for tomorrow." You lie, you felt sick to your stomach. He made you sick to your stomach. He gets a little closer, now close enough for you to be able to smell the soft cologne on his clothes. "What's got you so excited?"

It felt like you were watching yourself fall from the sky, it was slow but graceful, but you knew once you hit the bottom, things would get ugly. So you grew wings. "My boyfriend. We're planning on Facetiming tomorrow." It was like a repellant, the way he stepped back.

"Oh, that's nice." He mumbles and you take this opportunity to run back to your seat, hopping over Jimin and strapping yourself back in your seat, shaking your head over and over again.

This was a bad idea. You should not have come on this trip.

-

"She has a fucking boyfriend." Is the first thing Jungkook says to Yoongi and Jimin while the three sit in the back of the taxi that is en route to the hotel. Yoongi wasn't listening, still half asleep after only waking up 30 minutes ago. He would need a repeat of it all tomorrow.

"Pfft. Barely." Jimin mumbles. Triggering quite possibly the fasted head turn known to mankind, Jungkook looks at him with intrigue, "What do you mean by that."

"He's an asshole. Like a literal piece of shit, but she's still with him for whatever reason. It's gotta be Stockholm syndrome." Jimin shrugs. "But you can't tell her I told you this, I think she's pretty cool, so before you get your dick wet, think with your head first."

Yoongi hums in agreement with that one statement. He may be asleep but he knows a good statement when he hears one.

-

Jungkook did think. He thought about you all night. From the cab to the hotel, until he fell asleep and again when he woke up. Sure, you had a boyfriend, but it sounds like you shouldn't be with him, or at least deserved someone better.

The morning sun seeps through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the lavish surroundings. You and Sunny share a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the incredible experience that awaits. Or at least that's what Sunny thinks.

Instead, you retreat under the covers of your bed with an unpleasant sound. "How could I let you bring me here." Your voice is muffled and scratchy from it being the morning still. "Because you love me." She runs from her bed and jumps onto yours.

"Should we get room service?" She proposes and you slowly pull the covers down, revealing an interested expression. "Who's paying?" You ask. "Who cares! It's not us." She springs up and bounces for the phone.

By the late afternoon, you'd gotten an invite from Jimin, inviting you guys down to the pool, it was reserved just for them. "We're going, this isn't up for debate, Y/n. You said you would relax on this trip, so it's my job to make sure you do!" She pulls out the violet two-piece you'd packed in your luggage and shoves you into the bathroom, throwing the clothes in there with you after and shutting the door.

"I hate you y'know," you say from the other side of the door.

"You'll thank me one day, Y/n. One day."

-

There was a roar of cheers from the guys as the two of you walked into sight, the sun was beaming down on you and you were glad you brought your sunscreen.

Jungkook tried to be respectful to the sham of a relationship you were in but what was he supposed to do? You looked so hot in your bathing suit, you were so small but you still had curves in all the right places.

He just wanted to break you in half. Pin you down and-

A splash of water hits him in the face, "Stop eye fucking her and act like you've been neutered for once." Yoongi warns, swimming away before Jungkook could retaliate.

Jin calls Sunny into the water, and she just about jumped in while you were working on unwrapping your new bottle of sunscreen. Jungkook uses this as an opportunity. Looking down at the white shirt that was now soaked through, sticking to his abs he slowly steps out of the water.

Looking you right in the eyes as you shook the bottle. Now you were staring but you didn't care. You were looking at the son of Adonis, or maybe the god himself.

In the warm glow of the poolside sun, Jungkook emerged from the sparkling water, droplets cascading down his glistening skin. The pool's rippling surface bore witness to his athletic grace as he approached the pool chair where you reclined, still shaking the bottle.

His steps were confident, each one leaving a trail of water on the tiles beneath his feet. As he neared, he held your gaze with an intense, playful glint in his eyes. The air between you became charged with a magnetic energy, and a sly smile played on his lips.

With deliberate movements, Jungkook reached down to the hem of his white shirt, clinging to his sculpted physique. The fabric peeled away, revealing the contours of his toned abs. Beads of water followed the curves of his body, accentuating every defined muscle.

As the shirt came off, the sunlight caught on the droplets clinging to his skin, creating an ethereal effect. The sensual eye contact between the two of you intensified, creating a moment suspended in time. The poolside ambiance seemed to hush, allowing the connection between them to take center stage.

Your fist clenched, the sunscreen blurted out of the bottle, some landing on the smooth skin of your thigh but most hit the chair.

Jungkook's expression hinted at a playful confidence, acknowledging the allure of the moment. Your little accident told him all he needed to know. You wanted him.

Even if you didn't know it yet.

Wiping desperately at the sunscreen that had landed on you, a bigger hand comes to help. Gently rubbing the soft flesh of your thigh, Jungkook was crouched to your level with nothing more than a sincere smile as he helped you with your sunscreen.

Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water as you watched him from beside yourself. Unable to believe what was happening. You could feel your heart beating in your ears, and other places but you shook your head.

"Wh-what-" Jungkook looks up to you, moving his hand away. "My bad. I didn't mean to overstep, I just noticed that you'd spilt some of your sunscreen," He inches just a little closer so that you looked down at him from where you sat on your chair. "I'd hate for it to go to waste."

That mischievous tongue of his makes an appearance briefly as it swipes over his bottom lip before retreating; leaving behind glossy plump lips. It's not what he says, but how he says it.

Almost as though he wanted you to break.

You hated how he made you feel without saying anything out of the ordinary.

"You have to be shitting me," Yoongi curses to no one in particular as he watches Jungkook lean up towards you from where he was floating in the pool on the flamingo inflatable.

"You've gotta admit, the boy's determined." Jin adds while Hoseok shakes his head, "He just doesn't know when to give up."

--

Opening your hotel room door to see Jimin leaning against the wall waiting for you. He looked incredible in his black button-up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His hair swooped to perfection.

"About time." He kicks himself off the wall as you scoff, "Don't blame me, blame the dress." Your freshly manicured nail points to the red, velvet dress that left your chest exposed before it went under the halter neckline.

There was so much skin offered to anyone that looked at you. You looked absolutely stunning. The way the dress clung tightly to your curves was almost ungodly but made you seem even more angelic.

Twirling on your toes slowly to showcase the full rotation of your outfit and Jimin failed to suppress his gasp. The back- Your back was completely exposed safe for where the halter crossed behind your neck.

"You look hot, and I'm not just saying that." You grin, leading the way to the elevator and waiting for it to come up.

While you were watching the elevator screen, Jimin was watching you. Not lustfully or anything since he really did see the two of you becoming close friends in the future but his gaze was full of.. fear?

Jungkook was going to eat you alive tonight, and he was willing to put money on it.

The man has been able to show limited amounts of self-control since the trip began, and his little shirtless stunt at the pool earlier that day was proof.

The elevator dings and the doors open.

You step in, hearing your phone vibrating from within your maroon chain side bag. Digging through your various lipsticks, mini perfumes and hair pins you finally grab your buzzing device.

 Daehyun: When did you go to Vegas?? and how did you get there? 4:33 pm

 Daehyun: Baby, I'm sorry. I mean it. Stop Ignoring me. (now) 8:12 pm

You sigh, scrolling through your messages sadly. "Am I being too hard on him?" Jimin leans over to look at the messages, his face turning sour at Daehyun's messages. "I bet you he doesn't even know what he's apologizing for."

The elevator doors close, and Jimin presses the star symbol for the nightclub on the first floor where you would meet the others.

Shaking your head repeatedly, "No. That's impossible. He knows, Jimin. Trust me." He doesn't seem convinced in the slightest,

"Okay. Since you're so sure-" He snatched your phone from your grasp, his fingers moving at the speed of light and you panicked, reaching for the device but he held it high. "Jimin No-!"

"I said 'What are you apologizing for'. I won't send it if you don't want me to. But It seems like he's only apologizing because he knows he's in the wrong, but doesn't know what for."

The elevator dings, going down floor by floor, the silence slowly creeping up on you, "Send it." You say, and his thumb hits send.

The doors open.

You and Jimin step out into the club. Before you sprawled a vast expanse of vibrant colours. Neon lights adorned the walls, casting a kaleidoscope of hues that danced in rhythm with the music.

The dance floor, surrounded by elevated platforms and VIP booths, was the epicentre of the vibrant spectacle. Mirrored ceilings multiplied the dazzling display, creating a sense of endless sin.

"Do you know where they are?" You ask while Jimin leads the way into the crowd of hot bodies and blasting music, he glances down to the text from Tae, "Tae said they're in section 9." Maneuvering your way through the swarm of people until you meet up with the others.

Jimin walked up the steps first, the group's cheers blending in with the roars coursing throughout the rest of the club as he joined them with you closely behind, the cheers continuing for you with whistles once you reached the platform.

"Oh shit!" Sunny curses, rushing to your side to shower you with compliments. "I guess being 30 minutes late pays off, you look great." Tae welcomes you with a side hug and an invitation to sit beside him.

"You need to cool it." Jin pulls Jungkook in by the collar so that he could hear him over the music. Jungkook finally pulls his hungry gaze off of you and looks to his elder.

"You're making it way obvious, and obvious is not what you want. She has a boyfriend. There are hundreds of other girls here, find someone else." He lets him go and Jungkook shakes his head.

How Jin even found out that you had a boyfriend didn't phase him. The seven of them were as close as brothers, it was hard for him and Jimin to keep anything to themselves.

Hundreds of girls but they weren't you. He couldn't just switch it on and off. This wasn't as fun and playful as it once was before, he was starting to get addicted to the thought of you.

"You have any pre-rolls on you?" Jungkook leans over to Namjoon who was deep into a conversation with Sunny. Namjoon reaches inside the pocket of his blazer, "Never leave home without them."

"Great. I need a smoke." Jungkook huffs, standing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. God you looked so fucking fine in that dress, it made him crazy, sick to his stomach.

He's Jeon Jungkook for god's sake.

The concept of want is so unfamiliar to him. Any girl he wants could easily be in his bed the same day, but you-- he shakes his head bitterly-- you were giving him a hard time, all over what? some lame-ass boyfriend.

"Namjoon you comin' ?" He looks over his shoulder to see both him and Sunny standing, "Mind if I join?" She asks, "The more the merrier."

You watched as the three of them disappeared into the bustling crowd vanishing out of sight. "Where did they go?"

Tae leans forward looking at where the trio had just walked through. "Probably went to go ball up." Tae shrugs, "Which means it's time to really get this night started. First round on me."

It wasn't until three shots later when Jungkook had finally come back, this was the first time you really got a good look at him. He was wearing nothing but a black jacket that had the most delicate body chains striping across his abdomen, giving you a clear view of his sculpted abs and-

Your phone buzzes.

 You: Why are you apologizing? 8:13 pm

 Daehyun: Because you're upset. (now) 9:27 pm

God, Jimin might be right. He doesn't have a clue.

 You: Do you even know why I'm mad? 9:27 pm

 Daehyun: Is it because of the nudes I sent Soo-Min? I was drunk, I promise. It was a mistake. 9:28 pm

You gasp. You had no idea what he was talking about. You were referring to him standing you up when you told all your family that he would be coming. You never knew this had even happened.

 You: What the fuck are you talking about? 9:29 pm

 You: I cannot believe you right now. 9:29 pm

 You: Stop fucking texting me. 9:30 pm

You weren't even sad or disappointed. You were used to him letting you down constantly. "Looks like you need another shot." You look up from the screen in your lap, making eye contact with ringed fingers wrapped around a shot glass with your name on it.

You take the shot in your own grasp, looking Jungkook in the eyes as you down it. Your face wincing a little at the burn in the back of your throat but you were beginning to feel that exciting warmth in your chest.

The strobe lights turn red as Chris Brown's Take You Down begins to play through the loud speakers all around the club. "Wanna dance?" He offered you his hand, your brain was a little hazy and your cheeks were flushed but Jungkook was too hot to resist.

"Love to."

The two of you walk off to the dance floor with the rest of the crowd.

Taehyung looks to Jin who looks to Hoseok who looks to Yoongi.

Yoongi sighs, shaking his head slowly taking another shot. "It's out of my control. Once they step on that floor, their fate is sealed."

It's true, the moment Jungkook's hands were on your hips that swayed to the music you knew you were screwed. You had every right to be apprehensive about going on this stupid trip in the first place, but deep down you knew it was inevitable.

This very moment was destined from the start.

"You look fucking perfect tonight." He whispers in your ear from behind you, subconsciously pushing your hips back on him and Jungkook could swear he's never wanted someone as badly as he wanted you at this very moment.

"Says you," You spin in his hold, now face to face.

His grip on your hips tighten, body unable to maintain its façade for much longer. Your hair was up in a bun tonight, showing off the industrial piercing he never even knew you had.

There were so many things he wanted to know about you, and not just physically. He wanted to be able to sit with you over a cup of coffee and talk about everything and anything.

His tight hold on you prompted a breathless whine to escape your lips but he heard it. "Stop it." He says and your eyebrows scrunch, genuinely confused. "Stop what?"

"Stop tempting me. I'm trying to be respectful." Astonishment wipes over your features. "You're telling me to stop? It's been you all along, making me trip over my words, and being so shirtless and hot all the time, making me forget I have a boyfriend." He chuckles.

"So you admit it. You think about me too?"

You step back.

"Yes, Jungkook. I cannot stop thinking about you and that's my problem. I need to get you out of my head." Your mouth was saying one thing, but with the way he was looking at you, your heart wanted him between your legs.

The almost forgotten feeling of lust finally coursed through your veins. It'd been so long since you'd gotten any action, you needed this.

But you couldn't.

He steps towards you, even closer than before. You could feel his firm body crowding against your own. The way he towered over you made you feel dizzy. He leaned down, ensuring that you could feel his warm breath on the shell of your ear when he spoke "Tell me you don't want me and I'll walk away."

You don't want him. you lie to yourself.

Trying to put these thoughts into words, your mouth opens.

"I need you, Jungkook." Finally admitting it.

There was no going back now, his lips crashed against yours with nothing less than an animalistic desire. It was fast-paced and messy but you loved it.

The dam finally broke.

You kissed with more than your lips, his hands on your waist, squeezing tight as he rolled his hips into you with the rhythm of the music.

This was so so wrong, but it felt so right.

The way his tongue rolled over your bottom lip with such skill made your thighs clench, you could only imagine the things he could do with it--

"Y/n!" Sunny screams your name from behind you, not even processing what you and Jungkook had just been doing while Namjoon was busy enjoying the music behind her.

You turned around, a little breathless and bothered after being disrupted but you were immediately occupied with analyzing Sunny's appearance. For starters her hair was ruffled and looked like it'd been put through the wringer, her lipstick (what was left of it) was fading and a little smudged.

And last that you checked she was wearing lashes when the night began but they were nowhere to be found. "Sunny where did you go-- Oh my god- Did you and Namjoon-" Her non-stop nodding causes you to clasp your hand over your mouth.

"It's him! He remembers me!" The two of you have your moment, squealing before Jungkook whispers in your ear. "Meet me at the elevator in 5." Sunny actually does catch on this time.

"Oh my god!? Are you gonna-"

You think about it, "I don't know!! Should I?! Daehyun just voluntarily admitted to sending nudes to Soo-Min god knows when and-" Sunny groans. "Leave him, for the love of god y/n stand up!" She yells.

"I can't just leave him he's my boyfriend, and it wouldn't make me any better than him." Sunny's eyes roll. "It won't be cheating if you plan on breaking up with his ass tonight. Just hurry up and decide, Jungkook's waiting for you." She winks and it gives you butterflies.

He was waiting for you.

The moment you turned the corner of the hallway, you saw Jungkook waiting outside the elevator as he said he would be, finally pressing the button. "I was afraid you wouldn't come," he laughs internally to himself at the double entendre, knowing Jungkook's track record, this has never been an issue for him.

The two of you step inside the elevator, it would be a long ride up to the 21st floor, the two of you did your best to stay to your respective sides of the elevator until there was a crowd of people that entered as well, pushing you into him.

Completely oblivious to the way your ass was pressed flush against his crotch, he looks up to the ceiling, wondering what he'd done in his past life to deserve this kind of punishment.

A beautiful girl pressed up against him but he couldn't do anything. As the crowd moved, so did you he hisses and your body stills, finally aware of what you were doing.

On the 13th floor the elevator empties completely, leaving just the two of you and you try to move away from him but his grip holds you in place. "Didn't think you'd be running from me so soon." You'd never heard his voice like this. It was deeper, bass full of wants and desires,

He spins you around, he had you cornered.

Looking up to him with that doe gaze of yours. His index finger gently rests under your chin, your gaze was practically begging him to kiss you, but in case he was hesitating you nodded just a little, permitting him to open your lips with his.

This kiss was a lot slower and deeper than the one before. It was soft and sweet, but slowly turned into a full-blown make-out session by the time the elevator made it to the 21st floor.

He leads the way to his room at the end of the hall, beside Hoseok's room.

Jungkook worked on unlocking the door while you chewed on the tip of your acrylic. Were you really about to do this?

"I'm going in my room, and you don't have to follow, but I'm leaving the door unlocked." He says, disappearing behind the door. Looking over your shoulder, your room was 4 doors down.

You could still back out now, it wasn't too late.

All you would need to do is have a long talk with Daehyun.

You scoff, even his name irritated you. Your heart knew things weren't going to work out between the two of you once you got back home, regardless of whether you slept with Jungkook or not.

He's broken your trust far too many times, and besides, Sunny was right, he is an asshole.

You walk into Jungkook's room and make sure to lock the door behind you.

"That's my girl," He purrs as he steps towards you, taking your face in his hands before gracing you with a heated kiss, the kind of kiss that made you stumble as he walked you back to the door.

"Hope you put that phone on dnd." He whispers, kissing down your neck, skillfully managing to take your hair down at the same time. You looked like the epitome of sin, hair falling over your shoulders as if it fell from grace while your neck was littered with hickeys, your plump bottom lip tugged between those perfect teeth of yours.

Your dress was the first thing to go, he loved it on you, but it served its purpose, and it did it well. Soon his jacket was finally off revealing his muscular build that you'd seen in the fan cams but it couldn't compare to the real thing.

You kissed him back desperately as your legs were wrapped around his waist while he made his way to the bed, dropping you down to your back watching the way you bounced.

Your perfect tits are the first victim of his passionate affection. Leaving tender kisses on the soft flesh, "Jungkook-" you gasp feeling him wrap his lips around your nipples, tongue working hard to push you towards that edge that you'd been inching closer to since you got in here.

He groans as he feels your hands roam over his back, anticipating the feeling of your nails scratching his skin. Finally moving down from your breasts once they were covered with his kisses and hickeys.

You could feel yourself practically soaking through your under, not to mention the way it was sticking to you. "Looks like someone's worked up," he teases, slowly peeling you out of your ruined underwear.

"What's got you so hot and bothered, is it your boyfriend?" You sit up so fast almost getting a head rush and he laughs. "Jungkook." You say and he gives you a look of lust. "What? Say it baby, use your words. Tell me who makes you this wet. Is it me or him?"

You press your legs together, unable to believe that this was turning you on more. "He couldn't turn me on." He looks up to you with wide eyes. "Is that so?" Nodding your head slowly, letting Jungkook gently push you back down to the bed.

On his knees he takes a deep breath at your core, a guttural sound rumbling in his chest as he was face to face with your dripping core. "So you're saying it's me?" he asks, letting his tongue run a flat stripe against your soaked folds.

"YES! It's you Jungkook please, stop teasing, please I can't take it. I'm already so close." You beg, body thrashing around enough for him to pin your legs over his shoulder and to keep you still.

You were stroking his ego, telling you you were already so close and he's barely touched you. Your boyfriend must've been shit in bed, and he was determined to make it up to you. He was going to show you what you've been missing.

Finally eating you out to his heart's content, ignoring the way your feet continued to move frantically over his shoulders he lapped up at your core, flicking his tongue over your clit until your body spasmed uncontrollably. "I'm-" Unable to even finish the sentence before you were blinded by an earth-shattering orgasm.

It ripped through you like a storm and came squirting out of you just like one too. "You've got to fucking kidding me," Jungkook murmurs to himself and you froze. Was he mad?

He stands up, "Of course the hottest girl I've ever seen squirts on my tongue. Good fucking hell, Y/n. It's like you want me obsessed with you." Who was he kidding, he was already obsessed.

He picked you up so carelessly, bringing you to the balcony where it overlooked the Las Vegas strip. You could see the hotel's illuminated pool and all the car lights as they zoomed on the highway far in the distance.

"Hope you're not scared of heights."

Your stomach twisted at the thought of being so high up, but it was all forgotten once your leg was propped up and you felt your folds being prodded open by the fat head of Jungkook's cock.

"No- fuck! Wait." you cursed feeling him push in just the tip, the sweet burn of his size nearly causing you to fall but he held you steady against the railing, bulging biceps on either side of your body, caging you in safely.

Jungkook knew better, this should be the last place he should be doing something like this but with your pretty ass right in front of him it was such a beautiful sight, and the scenery was cool too.

"It's too much," you pant, arms bracing yourself on the fence that kept you from falling 200 feet below. "It's only the tip baby, you sure you can take the whole thing?" You pause in thought, you needed him, all of him. "I can take it. keep going." You say and he pushes in slowly, feeling his cock fill up every nook and cranny of your womb.

It felt like he was in your lungs, you were knocked breathless, and he didn't move. Your body went limp in his arms, exactly what he feared would happen. He quite literally split you open, but you were determined to take it.

You clawed at the railing desperately, looking for any kind of relief from what you were feeling. "Deep breaths baby, I'll go slow." You nod, eyes squeezed shut as his hips slowly roll back pulling out about halfway before rocking back in.

"Oo-oh. fuck. Jungkook, keep going." you moan, head falling onto your hands; feeling what was once pain morphs into an addicting, sweet pleasure, over time his pace picks up until he was fucking into you with no remorse.

Even if no one could see you from this high up, they sure as hell could hear you. The way you cried out his name like a prayer over and over while Jungkook's brain was short-circuiting with the sight of you creaming on his dick and the obscene sounds it created.

"Does your boyfriend fuck you like this, huh?" He angles his hips, resuming his brutal pace even though you've already come twice now. Your body jolts with each snap of his hips.

You shake your head, but that isn't enough for him, flipping you around so that you're facing him, he pushes himself back in, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately.

"Use your words Y/n. You're my smart girl, look me in the eyes and tell me that your boyfriend could never fuck you like I do." Your eyes snap open, "He c-could never fuck-!" Jungkook slowed down his thrusts to something so much deeper, your eyes rolled and Jungkook nearly came just at the sight.

"Shit, I'm gonna come." He pants, and with a few more erratic thrusts you feel his warm cum fill you up. He slowly lets you stand but your legs fail you immediately. Scooping you up in his arms effortlessly he brings you to the bed, clearly not done with you.

That's how you found yourself on the brink of your third orgasm while Jungkook plowed into you from behind, obsessed with how his cum seeped out of you and around his cock.

Your arms had given out long ago hence why your cheek was smushed into the sheets of the bed while you whimpered like a whore. "God you should look at yourself," He laughs almost maniacally from behind you.

Feeling himself approach his climax, "Jungkook- please!" you cried out, the friction only adding to the stimulation, "m' gonna-" you try to get back up on your arms but you couldn't move.

"I wonder what your boyfriend would say if he saw you like this,'' A wicked smile spreads across his lips as he reaches for your phone that was forgotten somewhere on the bed, hitting record.

Pulling you up onto your arms, tugging your hair by a makeshift ponytail, the flash highlights the various bruises all over your body left by yours truly. The audio was picking up his soft groans and your pathetic whimpers, and if the room was quiet enough you could probably hear the welt squelch of your cunt sucking in his length with each push.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You cry out, coming once more and your body goes limp, Jungkook ends the recording and tosses the phone to the side while he chases his own high finishing soon after you.

He pulls out slowly, "Y/n, baby? Are you with me?" He taps your cheek gently, and your eyes barely open, "I think you fucked the soul out of me," He dares to flash you a nervous smile as if he hadn't just fucked you dumb.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up."

-

"That was one hell of a trip." You mumble to Sunny on the phone as you wheel your suitcase down the hall to the door of your apartment where there was a big bouquet of flowers.

"Oh my god," You say, crouching down, wincing a little as you did to read the card. "What?" Sunny asks and you explain what you were seeing.

"Do you think they're from Daehyun?" You scoff, "Fat chance."

You open the envelope to read the card aloud,

'To the hottest girl. We should get donuts sometime, I heard you like them cream-filled ;) Text me sometime xxx-xxx-xxx. -J.K'

Sunny squealed in your ear.

"I'll call you back." You say, dialling Jungkook's number.

"Hello?" He answers.

"You got me flowers?" You couldn't stop the smile from spreading across your face, and he could hear it. He closed his fridge and leaned on the counter, "You like 'em?"

Holding the vase in your hand you take a deep sniff, "I love them."

He shakes his head. "This is so sad. You're too easy to impress. Let me treat you better than that jerk, Y/n." Your mouth falls open-

"How- What?"

"Jimin mentioned the details to me but don't get mad at him; it doesn't change the fact that the guy is an asshole." You sigh.

"I know."

"So?" Jungkook starts, waiting for you to say something.

"I think you mentioned something about cream-filled donuts. When and where?"

He smiles.

[cwittr]

sleepy girl ೃ࿔

pairings. choi seung-hyun “thanos” x fem!reader

warnings. somnophilia, high sex?? (he’s high), softer!thanos :,), breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus, takes a pic of ur pussy

an. no sg au !

thanos stumbled through the front door at around midnight. though he was a bit drunk he tried his hardest not to make too much noise. he shook off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, tossing them both onto the bench by the door.

he had been at a party one of the guys from the club was hosting. after a few lines he started thinking about you. you were probably wearing one of your tank tops and a pair of tight fitting shorts (little did he know the surprise waiting for him). just the thought of you made his cock throb, he was craving you; and that was enough for him to make up an excuse to head home.

he quietly made his way through the house, stopping in the doorway of your shared bedroom. thanos felt his cock throb when he saw your half naked body, arm draped over one of the large pillows while you were curled up in a fetal position.

he walked closer to you, pulling off his black shirt and unbuckling his belt. his large hands spread your legs apart, a shiver going down his spine when he saw your glistening heat. he laid down next you and finally released his pulsating dick from the tight confines of his boxers. he traced his fingers up and down your torso. you shifted in your sleep, pressing yourself against him. he let out a deep groan; he couldn't take it anymore.

thanos lined himself up with you and ran his cock through your folds, shivering at the feeling of your juices. he slowly pushed his cock into your tight cunt, letting out a string of quiet groans as he bottomed out. you shifted again, unintentionally rolling your hips into his. he gave up on trying to keep quiet. he let out a loud moan while slipping his cock in and out of your sweet slick. his fingernails dug into the skin on your hips, desperately chasing his orgasm.

you whimpered quietly, waking up just moments before.

"thanos..!" you whined, pushing yourself up against him.

"shh, i'll take care of you, baby" he whispered.

he pulled out and flipped you over so he was hovering above you. he lightly pecked your lips before slowly pushing himself back into your tight pussy.

"missed you all night, pretty...had to leave early cause' of you" he rambled while pumping in and out of you. his fingers dug into your hips, making you whimper in both pleasure and pain. he threw both of your legs up on his shoulders, trying to get as deep inside you as he could.

your silky walls clenched around thanos’ thick cock as your moans gradually got louder. you felt a fiery sensation in your lower abdomen; you were about to cum, and he already knew.

"want me to cum inside you, baby, hm?" he moaned, reaching down to rub your clit in sloppy circles. "cum for me, angel, let it all go."

"f-fuck.." was the only coherent word you said, followed by a string of loud moans, whimpers, and squeals. you moaned his name like a mantra. your vision turned white as your back arched off of the mattress, your cum gushing down your lower thighs and onto the sheets.

thanos let out a string moans himself, pushing himself deeper into your cunt than he has before. his head rested on your shoulder as he let out another series of moans, finally surrendering to the pleasure and shooting his white sticky seed into your womb.

he slowly pulled himself out of your throbbing pussy, your lip quivering at the lack of contact. he slowly kissed down your neck and chest, taking his time as he got closer to your glistening cunt. once he was face to face with your heat, he pressed a gentle kiss to your clit, making you flinch.

he licked up the mixture of the both of yours cum dripping down your thighs, pushing the rest back into your throbbing hole. your eyes widened as he pulled his phone out. he took three pictures of your sex and saved them to his private folder full of pictures of you. 

he went back down to face your pussy again, kissing your clit and gently suckling on it.

" 'ts t-too much.." you cried. he instantly pulled away and sat up to kiss you. "i know baby im sorry, we're done now okay? did so good f' me, just like always" he whispered, caressing your face softly and laying down before he pulled you to lay on his chest.

"i love you, my good girl." he whispered softly. he looked down and smiled when he saw you sound asleep, completely tuckered out.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ Softer, Softest ♡

♡ Pairing: mafia!boss!san x stripper!chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A fun night of stripping takes a turn when an encounter with a particularly unpleasant customer leaves you in tears, running to your boss seeking comfort and protection. Both things he’s more than willing to give.

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: explores themes of body insecurities, reader has her arm grabbed (nothing violent but brutal violence against the person who grabbed it), mentions of blood/injuries (not yours, babes), kissing, heavy body worship, san’s obsessed with you, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), clit sucking, nipple pinching, a lil manhandling, hair pulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, low key mirror sex, pet names (baby, pretty).

♡ A/N: Hello my loves, I wrote this little fic for any of my chubby darlings out there who might not know or might need reminding that their bodies are gorgeous, worth loving, and desirable. I also really love myself a hot criminal and who better than San? K, let me shut up now. Just know I love you. Your body’s amazing. Never forget that ❤️

Midnight. Friday. The back alley of a strip club. The best in town. The strip club, not the alley. It’s a dark, starless night. The smell of fresh rain hangs in the air, the aftermath of a sudden downpour that left the ground slick with rain. Music from inside the club bleeds through the cracks of a heavy steel door. A neon red EXIT sign hangs overhead. The door creaks on its hinges as it swings open, sending the music blaring out into the night and with it comes a body. The blur of one at first, flying through the air, and then the weight of it. The heavy thud of bruised flesh and cracked bone colliding with the asphalt. 

The man on the ground is unremarkable, nothing about him worth noting except the mangled nose that gushes blood down his face, leaking into the cavernous gash that is his busted lip. He said the wrong thing to the wrong person and now he can’t speak at all, only mumble. A brushed leather Dolce and Gabbana shoe collides with his cheek. His blood splashes scarlet against the pitch black soles, a horrible crack emitting from his jaw as more pressure’s applied. Now this man? He’s remarkable. He’s muscular, defined in every way so that, even through his black dress shirt, you can read the broadness of his shoulders. His features are sharp and intense. The kind you either fall for or fall victim to. There’s no in between. He’s a handsome devil but a devil all the same. 

“You look like shit” San sighs, effortlessly kicking the man onto his back. He rolls his sleeves up, kneeling beside the man like a hunter inspecting its fallen prey. He stares down at him, emotionless, void of anything close to that thing we call remorse.  

The man heaves in a breath of air before coughing it back out. “Mmm s-s-sorry” he croaks, “I didn’t know she was anyone fucking special.” 

San grips the man’s face, grinning in a way that isn’t the least bit friendly. He squeezes tightly, forcing jagged teeth to press into the soft flesh of the man’s cheeks. “Well now you do.”

This is your boss and you, tucked away safe and warm in his office, are something special. But a part of you knew this already. You downplay it when the other girls point it out. You pretend not to notice the clear signs of favoritism but they’re there in even the smallest interaction between the two of you. Since day one San’s been your protector, your admirer. You’ve denied it a million times, convincing yourself you’re simply making more of things than what’s there. Still, after everything happened you couldn’t fathom running into the arms of anyone else. 

You were dancing like any other night—working your section and getting your tips—when some asshole grabbed you by the arm, demanding your presence in one of the private rooms. Usually you could count on security to drag him out but on weekends the club gets packed and things slip through the cracks. Sadly tonight you were one of them so, like a proper lady, you told him to kiss your ass and sent the tip of your stiletto crashing into his balls. You might be a stripper but that doesn’t mean you’re some thing that men can treat however they wish. It’s a lesson he had to learn the hard way and you were happy to teach it to him. Two shots past drunk and embarrassed by your rejection he snapped, spewing the most vile things you’ve ever heard about yourself—about your body. 

It isn’t news to you that you’re one of the bigger girls here. San says that’s what makes you special, why customers come in to blow a check on you and you alone. He’s right, your bank account says so. The customers love you, they eat up every inch of your plush body. By all means you should feel like the baddest bitch in this building, simply because you are, but in that moment his words had reduced you to nothing. A few seconds ago you were twirling around the pole like a goddess now you found yourself scurrying back to the dressing room with tears in your eyes. 

At least that’s where you intended to go. Somewhere along the way you changed course, riding the velvet lined elevator to the third floor where San’s office sits at the end of a long hallway. At the time you hadn’t considered how much this might escalate the situation because, quite honestly, you didn’t care. More than feeling hurt, you were pissed the fuck off. Your tears were of anger and, whether you felt it at the time or not, you wanted that motherfucker to pay for it. 

This place you work at. There’s more to it than what’s on the surface. It’s easy to get so distracted by the luxury and the lights and the pretty girls dancing that you miss the truth of it all. In fact, that’s the point, but you know a mafia front when you see one. You aren’t oblivious. You know what this is, who San is, and maybe that’s exactly why you were tapping at his door. A damsel in distress in black lace lingerie.

San’s heart dropped when he saw his favorite girl in tears. He stopped everything, sending his men away so he could place all of his focus on you. Resting his jacket over your shoulders, he gently cradled your cheeks, brushing the tears away to ask quite simply, “Who did it?” 

You explained everything, how that asshole grabbed you and the things he said, and San’s anger grew quietly, simmering beneath a surface of calm. He took a seat at his desk, setting you down comfortably in his lap, and pulled up the security cameras. “Tell me when you see him, okay, baby?” he instructed sweetly, his palm massaging the smoothness of your thigh.

You nodded, struggling to focus on the screen with his hand on your thigh and him calling you “baby”. San touching you wasn’t a rare occasion but it was always something light. A hand on the small of your back or fingertips grazing your arm. Never this purposeful—this intimate. You couldn���t help imagining how it might feel if he gripped a little harder, moved a little higher. You felt your heart begin to race, your temperature rising the longer you sat there in his lap.

“That’s him” you sniffled, spotting that familiar face on the screen. San studied the screen a moment before turning back to you. “I’ll take care of it” he promised, his hand riding your thigh and coming to rest at the gentle curve of your hip. “And no more crying, baby. You’re too pretty to cry.” Too pretty to cry? Oh, but you were crying, absolutely weeping, only between your thighs this time. 

San disappeared from the office, leaving you too lost in the lingering haze of his touch to even think about your insecurities, but that only lasted so long. Alone in the quiet of his office, the self doubt began to creep back in. You tried to distract yourself by exploring your surroundings—the impressive collection of vintage whiskey, the gorgeously framed art hanging from the walls—but nothing could distract you from how uncomfortable you’d become in your own skin. It didn’t help that the office was lined with mirrors, reflecting glimpses of your figure with every turn.

At last out of distractions, you turn to face the mirrored image of yourself, letting San’s jacket slip to the floor. You strike a pose, a half hearted copy of something cute you might do on stage, and watch the way the fat of your body squishes together here or there. You strike another then another then another but they’re there in every pose. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs. Your weight shows in all of them. Pinching your lower belly you think of how the other girls have had work done. Maybe if you got some done yourself…

“I left him out back. Clean him up before someone sees” San says, pushing through the door, his phone pressed to his ear. 

You jump a bit at his arrival, scrambling to grab the jacket, but San slips in behind you, closing his arms around your waist before you can retrieve your safety blanket. You tense at first but find yourself settling into his embrace as if it’s the most natural place for you to be. 

“So, what was that?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he inhales your perfume and the sweet scent of honey and jasmine fills his lungs. You smell as beautiful as you are, as beautiful as everything about you is. 

“How’d everything go?” you press, quick to change the subject. Noticing a series of tiny red scrapes on the knuckles of his right hand, you carefully take it into yours, assessing the damage. 

San shrugs it off like it’s nothing. It still stings but it’s far from the worst pain he’s ever felt. “I said I’d take care of it. It’s been taken care of.” 

You giggle at the contrast of something so menacing being spoken by someone so regal. “San, you make it sound like you killed him.” 

He leans into your neck, his lips grazing your skin on their way up to your ear. You shiver at the contact and his hold on you tightens, your bodies pressed flush against each other so that you can feel his bulge pressed into the plush of your ass. 

“Killed him? Almost” he whispers, “I answered your question so it’s only fair you answer mine, isn’t it? What were you doing? I came in and you were…” San pinches your belly, his fingertips planting adoration where there was once doubt. 

“I…uh…I was…” you stutter, searching your brain for a believable lie but you can’t find a single one.“There’s this doctor, a few of the girls have gone to him to get some work done, and I was just thinking, I don’t know, maybe...why am I even telling you this? You don’t care and anyway, it’s silly.”

“It is silly” he agrees, notes of that quiet, controlled anger you witnessed earlier resurfacing, “But you’re wrong to say that I don’t care. I care about how you feel about yourself, I care about you. You must know that.”

“I mean, I know you care about me. You care about all of the girls” you say, hesitant to accept this as a profession of anything in particular. 

San spins you around, pinning you between the warmth of his body and the cool mahogany of the desk. “I don’t care for any other woman the way I do you.” 

There it is, a profession of something very particular. He’d hoped that you’d seen it by now. He wonders if he didn’t do a good enough job of showing you. It’s been so long before you, years even, that he had feelings like this for anyone. The world he operates in doesn’t allow for soft spots. Soft spots are how you make mistakes and when mistakes are life or death you can’t afford to make them but he couldn’t help himself with you. You caught his eye the day you walked in for your audition and you’re all he’s been able to see since. You’re so delicate, so beautiful, a perfect contrast to the toughness of his life. It’s why he protects you—why he always will. 

“Your body…” he says, his palms racing up and down your curves, “It’s perfect. There’s nothing about it that needs fixing. If you let that doctor touch you I’ll break both of his hands.” San’s gaze is heavy with lust, months of longing just begging to be satisfied. It burns him up inside, sets fire to his very being, and being kissed by the flames of that need is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

“Is that the way you romance women? With threats of violence?” you tease, draping your arms across his shoulders.

“Sometimes but usually it’s like this” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours. His tongue parts your lips, twining around yours to deepen the kiss. His movements are careful and deliberate. The kiss intoxicatingly slow. 

San grabs you by the hips, lifting you onto the desk and you let out a little squeak of surprise as he sets you down. “You’re so fucking cute” he grins, spreading your thighs to fit perfectly between them. 

“You think so?” you say so innocently it only makes him want to ravage you more. 

Tangling his fingers in your hair, he tilts your head to look back at the mirror, “Don’t you?” 

An unexpected wetness soaks the lace of your panties at the sight of your shared reflection. Nothing has changed about your body. It’s the same one you were picking apart, the same one you were doubting, and San loves everything about it. He praises it with his hands, with his fingertips, with whispered confessions of everything your body needs to hear. 

”I watch you sometimes when you’re dancing” he says, effortlessly doing away with your bra, “I know I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself when you look the way you do. It’s like you’ve put a spell on me. My little witch.”

San captures one of your breasts, kneading the plump flesh in the palm of his hand. He pinches your bud between his fingers, tugging at it just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

“But I don’t have any magic” you whimper, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. They pop open one by one, revealing a body that had to be sculpted by some divine feminine deity. You push the fabric away, your fingertips delighting in the perfection of her creation. 

San’s free hand reaches between you, stroking your clit through your panties. He groans at how soaked you are, your juices leaking through the lace to coat his fingers in your juices. “You do have magic, baby” he whispers, tucking your panties to the side, “It’s right here.”

“Aah, Sannie” you moan, your hands sliding down his abs as his fingers stretch you open. 

Your body falls back, a sharp chill coursing through you as your bare back hits the desk. San sinks his fingers deeper into your core, his cock stiffening at the sight of your body moving as hypnotically as it does on the pole. Only now it’s for him and only him. This is how San likes it, how he’s always wanted it to be. Him with his fingers buried deep into the warmth of your pussy, your walls greedily clenching around them, and you spread out across his desk, your gorgeous body on full display and your lips spilling out moans meant for his ears alone. 

Kneeling between your legs he pulls your panties aside harder this time, nearly tearing the fabric as he knots it in his fist. He brings his thumb to your clit, toying with it just to see how your body twitches with every touch. “How can a girl be this perfect?” he says, nearly salivating, “Even your pussy’s gorgeous.” There’s an audible wet sound, another sweet whimper escaping your throat, as his fingers slip out of your core and his tongue takes its place.

“San, wait…” you beg, grabbing at his hair, but you’re too late. Your attempt at pacing yourself is useless. His tongue’s already filling the space between your walls, wiggling and curling against your sweet spot. His dark hair knots around your fingers, your hips raising to ride every wave his tongue sends washing over you. 

San drags his tongue up through your petal soft folds, swirling it around your clit before diving into you again. He suckles at your clit, gently at first then faster, more ravenous. His gaze flicks up to you, taking in the way your belly jiggles and your breasts bounce. He’s drunk on your juices, already addicted to the way you coat his tongue. You taste like heaven and look like it too. It takes all of the self control he has to pry his mouth free of your pussy, snatching your panties down as he does. 

Standing back up, he grips your thighs, spreading you open to watch the arousal drip from your pussy, leaving pretty little drops on his desk. Your eyes are glued to him as he unzips his pants, letting his cock fall right between your legs. The swollen tip throbs against your lower belly, leaking precum, warm and sticky, on your skin. You rock your hips, clenching around air, craving friction from that deliciously veiny cock of his. 

“You want it, baby?” San teases, tapping the head of his cock against your clit. His length slips between your folds. They’re so smooth, so slick. Toying with your pussy’s like splashing in a lake. You’re wet enough to drown in.

“I want it, Sannie, aah, fuck…” you moan, your eyes widening at the realization that his tip’s pressed to your entrance now, stretching you the faintest bit. 

“Then tell me how perfect your body is. Tell me you love it.” He pushes in an inch more, stopping to leave your hole spread wide around his cock, still needy and deprived. 

The stretch has the room spinning, a single taste of him already making you want more. “My body’s, mmph, beautiful” you manage as he gradually feeds you more of him, “I love it.”

“Don’t stop. Keep telling me. Make me believe you” San demands, thrusting into you so hard that he bottoms out. 

You cry out at the force of the thrust, your lashes fluttering away tears, “I love, aah, my body. I love my body. It’s beautiful. It’s…it’s…”

Tucking his hands behind your knees, San pushes them to your chest, snapping his hips against you hard enough that your thighs jiggle around him. All of you does. Every stroke of his cock makes you tremble and he’s hardly able to keep still himself. You’re so tightly wound around his cock that he can feel all the finer details of your walls. They’re glued to him, sucking him in every time he even thinks about pulling back. 

Through heavy lids you watch the man you’ve only ever known to be a mountain crumble to pieces all because of you. San’s muscles are slick with sweat and a glossy haze dances over his eyes. His fingers are digging into your thighs, completely devouring them. He does what he can to swallow his moans but it’s impossible when you’re making him feel like his entire soul’s being snatched from his body. 

“You feel so fucking good” he grunts, planting breathless kisses up your leg, “Come here.”

San props your ankles up on his shoulders, hooking an arm around you and sitting you up so that you’re close enough to kiss. He grinds against your sweet spot, forcing his tongue down your throat so that every moan you set free echoes between his cheeks. Gripping the back of your neck, he slams into you, harder, faster, forcing your body to give into him. He fucks you until your eyes are rolling back, your mind too blank to recall anything that happened before this moment. There’s no thought of the incident, no thought of your insecurities. High on euphoria, your body feels beautiful, every inch of it. 

“S-San…” you whine, a familiar pressure building behind your belly. Your fingers begin to tingle as they cling to his muscles, searching for any stability they can reach. 

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?” he coos, not letting up on you, not even for a second.

Pulling his arm away he lets you fall back on the desk. With one hand cupping your breast and the other circling your clit, he watches you fall apart in the palms of his hands. For so long he’s had to watch you from afar, pretending that he wasn’t utterly obsessed with you, but now you’re all his. His pretty, moaning, teary eyed girl pouring your cum down his cock while you repeat his name like it’s the only word you know. He’s so singularly focused on watching you hit your high that his own takes him by surprise. 

Grabbing him by the wrist, you lock eyes, a weak smile forming on your lips. “Fill me up, Sannie” you whisper, your voice sexy even in its brokenness.

San’s body shudders and you feel a new fullness inside of you. The warmth pools deep within you at first, cascading down your walls the more he empties himself into you. “Fuck, baby” he pants, catching himself before his body doubles over. He came so hard his ears are ringing and holding onto you is all he can do not to fall. You sit up to stroke his cheek and he kisses your wrist lovingly. You stare into each other’s eyes for a minute that lasts an eternity, letting yourselves get lost in one another’s gaze. 

San breaks the trance with a kiss, holding you like one would the most precious thing they own. “Tell me, baby, how do you feel now?” 

You contemplate his question, your attention drifting back to the reflection in the mirror. It’s all there. Your face, your belly, your sides, your thighs, and San looking at you like you’re the prettiest girl in the world. You turn back to him with a smile, “Beautiful.”

[chlorinecake]

❝ MOLTO BELLA ❞ — P.JS

▹ PAIRING: soft dom! guitarist bf!jay x bratty switch! gf!reader

▹ WARNINGS: ⚠︎ BRAT TAMER JAY who puts you back in your place, f. masturbation, kind of giggly foreplay in the beginning, dry humping, titty play, finger sucking, hair pulling, rough unprotected sex in a hotel room (BACK SHOTS), cream pie, mentions of clubbing

▹ WORD COUNT: 2.1k, for @heeslomll on her lovely birthday... wishing you a very happy 19th, queen !! ♡♡♡

Just two days ago, Jay had whisked you away on a surprise getaway vacation, granting you both with a much-needed break from the hustle and bustle of your everyday lives…

Clubbing was a popular activity in the area, so like most guests at the Diamond Hotel, you and your boyfriend hit up an exotic club, where flashing lights, pounding music, overpriced drinks, and swirling bodies took over your sensual fields.

It wasn’t til around midnight once y’all had stumbled back to the hotel room, tiny giggles bumping from your tipsy body as Jay helped you undress, his touch gentle while guiding you into the warm bath he ran for you…

Oddly enough though, by time the following morning came, you couldn’t help but replay in your mind the way Jay’s veiny hands looked while carefully washing away the traces of last night's revelry from your skin…

The way his touch meticulously pampered you…

If you had had the energy for it last night, you’re sure you would’ve pulled his sexy ass into the tub with you, but that chance was over and done with now…

All you had currently was this king sized hotel bed all to yourself and your two, pathetic fingers that couldn’t make you feel good for shit…

And that’s when you heard it…

Jay’s skilled fingers faintly strumming a melody from his guitar… just from a few rooms away from you…

“Morning, beautiful,” Jay greeted upon hearing your bare footsteps enter the living room where he was busy working on chord progressions at the couch…

“Morning, daddy…” you returned playfully, catching on to the little smirk staining his face right away.

“Last night was fun…” you went on, almost mesmerized in the way his thick fingers traveled lower down the guitar neck, “didn’t know you could dance like that…”

“Yea?” He chuckled, eyeing you through his bangs as you paced around the table, “didn’t know you could drink like that, either…”

You let out a scoff at his comment, “Pleaseee, I was being quite conservative, actually… didn’t wanna make chaperoning too hard for you…”

“I'm sure I could handle it,” Jay replied in a slightly deeper voice this time, making your stomach flutter slightly at his words, “You hungry, party girl?”

“Not yet… I mostly just wanted to see why you left me all alone in bed this morning…”

Jay chuckled at your words, “Sorry about that, baby… I just wanted to practice this riff for a minute, but it doesn’t matter… you make sure my fingers get enough exercise anyways…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… it means that I know you want something from me right now… with the way you’re pacing around… what is it, love?…”

You felt kinda bad for getting out of bed just in hopes that Jay would wanna fuck you, but tossing and turning on the sheets while thinking about his fingers inside you wasn’t any better either…

“Just wanna sit here, if that’s okay,” you sighed, eyes falling to his lap as he placed the guitar down beside him against the wall, leaning back on the couch a bit now so you could nestle yourself in his lap.

He gave his thighs a quick pat as you came over, straddling him now as he gave you a kiss under your ear, “Of course this is okay, princess… no need to be shy…”

You tried to ignore the feeling of Jay’s dick resting beneath your core, but couldn’t help yourself from grinding against it slightly.

And it didn’t take many words after that for your boyfriend to know exactly what you wanted from him now...

His hands fell to your hips while you kept humping against his lap, eyes wandering down to the way your nipples poked through your thin pajama shirt just as you asked if he wanted to touch them…

“Will you smack me again if I pinch them this time?”

You gasped at his words, feeling his grip on your thighs tighten as he smacked the flesh there, looking into your eyes now.

“You've helped me toughen up since then, baby,” you said with a heavy voice, “just need to feel your hands on me more than anything right now...”

“What's the magic word, love?”

You let out a sigh at his teasing, rolling your eyes as you said, “Please, Jay, would you play with my titties while I dry hump you like a virgin, pretty please?”

He chuckled at your words once again—

—with that attractive ass chuckle of his… not even hesitating to slide his hands under your shirt and start fondling with your boobs, lifting your shirt over one tit as he ran a thumb over your nipple…

He then leaned his head down to take a wet swipe with his warm tongue over your sensitive bud, sending shivers down your spine as you whined slightly.

“So needy this morning… was wondering what kept you in bed so long today…” he started with a tantalizing whisper.

“I had a dream about you… I tried to touch myself but—”

“It didn’t feel as good as this, huh?” He finished for you, rutting his hips up for a second as he tightening his grip on your tit, “already got you feeling sensitive and all your clothes are still on…”

All you did was moan at your boyfriend’s words, putting your hands at his shoulders just as his hands traveled lower, “can’t make myself cum without you anymore, Jay…”

“Then let me help you feel better, love… Do you like the way that sounds?…”

“Yes,” you nodded dumbly, letting him kiss you now as you still circled yourself in his lap, leaving a wet spot behind on his sweatpants.

He picked you up bridal style before taking you to the bedroom and placing you on the bed that still wasn’t made up after all your stirring this morning…

You already started to spread your legs for him as he stood before you, making him smirk at your neediness. “Would you close your legs for like, one second? I haven’t even pulled my dick out yet…”

“Well if it bothers you so much, why don’t you do something about it?”

He simply smiled at you again. Smugly this time, “Y’know, you say you’ve toughen up with me, but I bet you’d still start crying once I actually put you in your place…”

That’s when Jay took a hold of your hips, pulling you closer to where he stood with both your pelvises touching now.

“I’d say it’s worth a try,” you went on, looking back at him with blowjob eyes, “I always like it when you play rough with me, anyways…”

He trailed a finger from your knee, along your thigh, before finally reaching your pussy, where he tapped a finger at, knowing exactly where your clit was already given how many times he’s touched you before…

Circling your clothed clit, he applied a bit of pressure to the spot while holding your face to look at him, your tongue laving at his thumb as he toyed with your lower lip.

He felt himself twitch in his pants at the way you moaned against his finger, not wanting to waste anymore time before he said, “turn over for me, love…”

And you did just that, turning over on your stomach almost instantly, not even being able to process it when Jay swiftly pulled your shorts and panties down, the room’s cool air hitting your cunt.

You meant to say something bratty, but he interrupted your thoughts with a spank to your ass, not a painful one, but hard enough to get your attention…

To keep you in check…

“Tell me… how did I fuck you in your dream?”

“Like this,” you said plainly while poking your ass out for him, bumping against his bulge… “only difference is that you didn’t take as long to get started…”

“Oh? Well isn’t that nice,” Jay smirked, just as your ears caught on to the sound of him untying his pants and pulling them down.

You turned your head to look back for a second, quite obviously checking out his dick that you weren’t surprised to see was fully hard.

Catching onto your peeking, he pressed your face into the mattress, lining his tip up with your sopping hole before asking, “Was I rough, too?...”

You couldn’t even get an answer out before he pushed himself in, the sudden feeling of fullness making your torso tense with pleasure that traveled throughout your entire body.

“Don’t get shy on me again, baby,” Jay cooed, releasing the weight of his hand from your face slightly while keeping your shirt out of the way with his other hand, “I’m not even fully inside you, yet…”

He thrusted his hips into you again, pushing past your tightness as your walls hesitantly welcomed the rest of his length inside.

“Anggh,” you winced for a second, gripping at the sheets given the deep stretch.

He didn't care for your whining though, as he knew it was only gonna be a matter of time before you started begging him to go faster.

“J-Jay!” You cried out weakly, already too affected by his ministrations as you felt his tip reach amazing places inside you, his hand bunching up your hair as he kept your face meshed with the mattress.

“Jay, what?” He taunted in a voice so low, you felt it in your pussy, his free hand letting go of your shirt only to pin your hands behind your back, the sheets releasing from your grip with a loud pop.

“Y’know I can’t read your mind, princess…especially not when you’re going all dumb on my cock like this…”

He wasn’t going to ease up on you until you told him how you wanted him, even if your words would have to come out in tiny little hiccups and broken moans...

It was his way of teasing you… not because he was an asshole, but he knew deep down that you always enjoyed the sex better whenever he made you work for it a bit.

“I w-want it to hurt,” your voice managed to come out muffed against the sheets, eyes pricking with tears given his hold on your hair coupled with the way he kept fucking into your desperate cunt, “p-please keep f-fucking me like this...”

You almost couldn't believe you were falling apart so quickly, and neither could Jay, your knees hardly being able to stay straight given how hard he pounded into you.

Your boyfriend groaned deeply behind you, keeping your arms pinned as his hips pistoled into you at a rapid pace, your moans syncing up with each slap of skin, “you're driving me fucking crazy right now- fughhck, baby... feels so good inside you...”

It wasn't long before Jay's once controlled thrusts turned into much sloppier ones as you both drew closer to your highs, his grip on your hands releasing as he leaned over you, close enough to where he could kiss along your shoulders.

A small puddle of drool rested where your mouth was on the mattress, just as you felt his fingers tap at your cheek, making your teary eyes flutter back open.

He wanted you to look into his eyes for the last few moments he could last inside you, the tip of his cock pulsing with his heart beat as you felt his load filling you up.

A loud groan fell from his lips as he slowed down the movement of his hips, holding you down with his weight as your orgasm followed soon after his, body trembling given how powerful the sensation was.

You were a squirming mess beneath him, whining out desperate cries of him name as your walls pulsating around him like a drum, his lips finally meeting yours in a sweet kiss as you felt his length slip out of you, a string of slick connecting your bodies.

“How was that, princess?” Your boyfriend asked breathlessly, almost in a cooing manner as he brushed a bit of your hair out of the way, “feel any better now?…”

“Shut up, I feel amazing,” you said, giving him a knowing look with your eyes as your breath came out like a satisfied purr, his touch still tracing the side of your face as you looked back at him.

That's when you felt his tip sliding between your folds, making your legs feel wobbly all over again given how sensitive you still were.

“Think you got another one in you for me?” Jay asked, the head of his cock coming dangerously close to your hole now as he whispered against your neck, kissing the skin there.

Yes, you were already satisfied, but given the way he sweet-talked to you in this moment, you're sure another round wouldn't hurt.

⚠︎ Thank you all so much for reading this fic! Make sure you all wish this beautiful Italian princess a very happy birthday before the day is out, and check out my enhypen bookshelf if you’re interested in more works like this !!

⚠︎ tag list: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr

[triplefrontierbabe]

hello! can i request a dr3 x black cat! reader? we all know dr is like a golden retriever and the dynamic with a tough, badass r, i feel would be so good! it gets to the point where the grid is like “mate your gf is kinda scary” and are legitimately scared of her (except for max, and danny tries to tell them shes not). but one night maybe dr (+more) get tooo drunk and the grid sees how caring and loving r really is (takes care of them) and understands that shes just a tough exterior with a soft loving interior please?

if not, its all good!! thank you 🤍

Opposites Attract

summary: Daniel’s the only person who knows how to crack your hard exterior

pairing: black cat! f!reader x golden retriever! Daniel Ricciardo

warnings: mention of drinking, you are responsible for the content you consume

a/n: I love this prompt!! I truly think Danny has the personality fit for a black cat! gf. hope you enjoy!

Daniel loves to smile, a lot. It’s kinda his thing. If Daniel Ricciardo isn’t smiling then something is seriously wrong. You can’t forget about his contagious laugh that livens up any space he’s in. Overall, he’s just a ray of sun bursting with joy.

So you can imagine the confusion on everyone’s faces when he introduced you as his girlfriend. You, the stoic, keeps-to-herself, only-shows-minimal-expressions girl dating Daniel, the golden retriever of the grid.

To any outsider the relationship dynamic didn’t really make sense. But, to be fair, compared to many other wives and girlfriends of the grid, you keep your life fairly private. You accompany Daniel to his races, you watch the race then you’re ready to go home as soon as the last car crosses the finish line. And, unlike many of the other drivers’ better halves, modeling and being in front of the camera is not your thing.

“I can’t tell if she hates me or likes me? She seems a little intimidating.” Lando says to Daniel one day. Daniel has introduced you to many of his mates and you’ve gotten to know many of them on a personal level outside of the paddock. Your stoicism once again triumphing in confusing the drivers.

“No, she does like you, Lando.” Daniel says. “I know she’s hard to read sometimes but she enjoys the company.”

This was a conversation Daniel found himself having often with other drivers. While you did fraternize with the other ladies, your social battery was quick to wear out on long weekends. Often excusing yourself from conversations because you were tired and could only handle so much interaction in one go.

However, after one race weekend, Daniel somehow convinced you to go out with a group of the drivers and their partners. It was a good race for Daniel, he placed P8, so of course a celebration of points was in order.

“It’ll be fun, I promise!” He tried reasoning with you. He had tried many times before in convincing you to go to a bar or club to celebrate. Only once before was he successful, and that was because it was to celebrate his birthday.

“And, we don’t even have to stay that long” he began “just have a couple drinks, mingle a little bit then leave.”

Now that was a plan you could get behind.

“Okay, I guess.” You said, sighing in defeat. It was one night, that wouldn’t kill you. And who knows, maybe people would see you’re not all that emotionless after all.

The night was going along just fine. Drinks were served, conversations were had, music was played. Max somehow ended up dancing on top of a table which resulted in Daniel joining him.

You and the other girls giggled at the sight of the grown men acting like college frat boys at a rush party. Yes, you giggled too. Lando saw it. He tried to take a mental note, amidst his drunken state, of the expression of emotion you had. Who knows if anyone would ever see that again.

“Mate did you just see Daniel’s girl smile?” Lando asked Charles who was standing close by. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a mental note he made after all.

Before you knew it, the clock had gone way past midnight and many more drinks were had. You, however, tapped out after two drinks. Someone in the relationship needed to be the coherent one for the night and it sure wasn’t going to be Daniel.

“Babe, I love this song!” Daniel shouted over top of DJ Got Us Fallin’ In Love as he stumbled towards you and the rest of the group. Once he was standing next to you he started dancing, terribly, attempting to twerk or at least move his butt in a what he thought to be a provocative manner.

As he bumped around you, you couldn’t help but smile at the scene you had now been brought into. Your almost six foot tall boyfriend acting like a newly turned twenty one year old at a bar for the first time. It was truly comical in the way he moved. For being as tall as he was, dancing for him was quite the sight, his lanky arms moving every which way with no rhythm at all.

“Baby dance with me” he whined reaching out to hold your waist and slightly slurring his words in the meantime. He was quite gone. The thing about alcohol and Danny was that it just heightened his golden retriever energy. He’s already very energetic and affectionate while sober, but inebriated? That’s a whole new level.

As much as you were reluctant to leave, you knew if Danny didn’t get to bed soon, the inevitable hangover in the morning would only be ten times worse.

“Okay honey, I think it’s time we head out.” You announce putting an arm around his waist to keep him upright. As soon as your arm is around his tall frame, he leans into your touch just like a puppy who hasn’t seen their human all day.

“But the party’s just getting started.” Daniel said pouting. Once again, a laugh escaped you before you could even process what was happening.

“I know, I know” you began as you put Daniel’s arm around your shoulder. “We can have more of a party later, okay?” You said patting his chest, trying to maneuver him in a way that would make it easy to walk out.

Before heading out, you announce your and Daniel’s departure and thank everyone for such a great night.

The group watches in amazement as you methodically guide Daniel around the crowd and head for the door. And they don’t miss the kiss you press to Daniel’s cheek along the way.

The guys are stunned to say the least.

“I think that’s the most personality I’ve seen from her ever.” Max exclaims, eyes wide at what he just witnessed.

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard her speak before.” Charles adds.

“It’s no wonder he chose her,” George begins, “she keeps him calm.”

So yeah, is your and Daniel’s relationship dynamic totally different on the outside? Sure. But he’s the only one who has managed to open up your heart just enough for him.

Opposites do attract after all.

Check out my Masterlist

[littlefluu]

𓍯𓂃𓏧 E N H Y P E N F I C R E C S

AUGUST 19th, 2024 RECOMMENDATIONS

WELCOME TO A SMALL LITTLE COLLECTIONS OF RECENT WORKS I ENJOYED (I was really busy with uni so there isn´t that much new material here! For more recommendations check out my main masterlist) ⤷ GO BACK TO THE MAIN ENHYPEN MASTER LIST WITH EVEN MORE RECOMMENDATIONS ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

ALL OF THE MEMBERS

love. f. moments where they realize they are in love or when they fall harder than they did before ᝰ fluff, short scenarios, all members .ᐟ₊ ⊹

Maybe in another universe !? by @leaderwon a. enhypen members texts after you pass away ᝰ sad, angsty SMAU, all members .ᐟ₊ ⊹

LEE HEESUNG

teeth by @gyuuberryy f, sug. you were not thrilled about the move in of your new neighbour. mostly because he was so strange and seemed to be hiding something dark. and partly because you couldn’t stop yourself from getting closer to him because of your unwanted attraction. you were determined to expose his dark secret and get rid of him once and for all. but, it was proving to be a difficult task because he was just so irresistible..and needy. ᝰ enemies to lovers, vampire!heeseung x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

talk tomorrow by @soobnny f. drunken confessions ᝰ best friends to lovers, heeseung x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

predictable predicament by @timextoxhajima f,s. so you're best friends with the campus hottie who happens to be the quietest one in his group of friends. he's different with you though. ᝰ best friend! heeseung, fluff, smut in the least explicit way .ᐟ₊ ⊹

PARK JONGSEONG

7:18 AM by @ashtxrie f. jay surprises a very sleepy y/n with breakfast. ᝰ established relationship, pure fluff, heavy domestic content timestamp, jay x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

Naturally by @ikeuverse f,s. ★ jay has always been very private about his love life and physical contact in front of his friends, but a comment from his work colleagues made him rethink some things. ᝰ established relationship, fluff, smut, domestic , chef!jay x fem!reader  .ᐟ₊ ⊹

How you get the girl by @jaylver f, a. ★ Beach parties are supposedly fun and exciting, aren’t they? Wrong. Experiencing college parties is rare for you, but you decided to give this one a go after your best friend’s constant pleas. Things were alright until everything turned sour when trouble found you and eventually you were roped into a fight alongside the campus’ famous hockey playboy. As if that wasn’t enough, the devil himself conjured up an idea that you found yourself being entangled in. It was all fun and games up until confusion arose, feelings being confessed and played, in the end, Jay had to learn how to get the girl, his girl. ᝰ strangers to frenemies to lovers, fake dating au, college sports au, romance, fluff, angst, secret pining, ice hockey player!jay x afab!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

SIM JAEHYUN

Car rides by @jlheon f. a sequence of events from your and jake’s senior year ᝰ neighbors to lovers, fluff, highschool au .ᐟ₊ ⊹

SOUL SISTERS f. where layla shows how much she cares about the growing life inside you. ᝰ fluff, heavy domestic content, husband!jaeyun x pregnant!reader, .ᐟ₊ ⊹

break the ice by @jaylver f, a. ★ Punching a guy in the club then kissing him not long after at a hockey game wasn't exactly a fairytale, but for you, it was your reality. The worst part of all it wasn't even the incidents that happened, but the fact that you didn't know him or his name. That was until another stir of events that happened which caused you and him to actually meet, so what was the best way to break the ice after a disastrous punch and a shocking kiss together? A date. It could be love at first sight, or more accurately, it was love at first punch, or … kiss? ᝰ strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance, angst, ice hockey player!jake x afab!reader.ᐟ₊ ⊹

Midnight train (back to you) by @jaylver f, a. ★ You declared to the world that this summer will be yours. Ever since you’ve left home to chase your dream further in Europe, you never dared to look back, leaving your friends and family along with the precious memories there, including your silent love for your closest friend. Years passed, you were making a name for yourself and chasing that fame, settling in perfectly fine and eventually moved on with life. All was well until the transfer window came, announcing a new addition to the men’s first team, who also happened to be your childhood best friend, Jake Sim. Summer in Spain wouldn’t be what it is without experiencing lots of rekindling, heartbreaks, fallout but also a shot at love. ᝰ childhood friends to lovers, college/professional sports au, romance, angst, pining, (slight) slow burn, pro-footballer!jake x pro-footballer afab!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

PARK SUNGHOON

Insatiable by @moonhoures s. your vampire bf suddenly becomes clingy which can only mean he’s hungry or horny . . . or both ᝰ non-idol!au, vampire!au, smut, sunghoon x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

Fatal trouble by @gyuuberryy f. your roommate is hot. really really hot. and odd too. really really odd. after a strange experience with him, you slowly start distancing yourself from him. but, it becomes exceptionally hard with your feelings coming in the way. how are you supposed to protect yourself if you can’t resist him? the answer is you don’t need to. your fates are intertwined and there's no letting go. ᝰ roommates to lovers, vampire au, soulmate au, vampire!sunghoon x reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

MS. & MR. President by @jlheon f. seeing your ex in public leads to hiding in a small photobooth with your annoying student council vice president park sunghoon ᝰ non-idol!au, frenemies to lovers, sunghoon x freader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

CRAZY, STUPID, LOVE by @jaylver f, a. ★ Having a one night stand wasn’t your forte, but with the help of adrenaline, and most definitely not alcohol, you managed to rope yourself into one. Worst part of all was the fact that you didn’t even know his name! The only distinguishable part of him was his blinding white hair. You figured you will never see him again after, but you were so wrong. Your friend practically set you up for failure after convincing you to take her place on a blind date to try and drive the guy away, only for it to be the one you slept with, who also happened to be your mother’s best friend’s son that you met right before that.  ᝰ strangers to lovers, college sports au, romance, comedy, slice of life, angst, (attempted) he fell first but she fell harder, slowburn-ish, ice hockey player!sunghoon x afab!reader .ᐟ₊ ⊹

RIKI NISHIMURA

supernova by @star-sim f,a,h. riki was the city's top hero, you were the top villain. when your archnemisis pulls up to your apartment late at night, all battered and bruised, you just sighed and took him in. you were a villain, not a monster! ᝰ hero! riki x femvillain! reader, superhero! au, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, a lil bit of angst .ᐟ₊ ⊹

duck by @jlheon f. you want a sonny angel hipper ᝰ Idol bf! nishimura riki x fem! reader, established relationship, fluff .ᐟ₊ ⊹

MY FAVORITE AUTHORS THIS MONTH @jlheon ★ @jaylver ★ @gyuuberryy

[worlds-we-write]

Let Me Hear You

pairing: Pedro Pascal x Plus-Size/Curvy Reader

summary: A chance encounter at a BDSM club leads to a slow-burning, electric connection. As their nights together grow more intense, desire and trust begin to blur the lines between pleasure and something deeper. Word Count: 6.8K Tags: Heavy smut, BDSM themes, blindfold, restraints, spanking, flogging, orgasm denial, oral (f + m receiving), dirty talk, unprotected p in v, toy usage, praise/degradation, established kink consent, body worship, aftercare.

You step into the dimly lit club as midnight approaches, the heavy thrum of bass immediately pulsing through your body. The air is warm and tinged with the scent of amber and leather, matching the low red glow of lights that casts everything in a seductive haze.

You were dressed for the setting: a black strappy corset that hugged every curve of your body like it worshipped it, high-waisted mesh-paneled pants, and a bold red lip.

It had taken courage to come, but once you were here, something settled in your bones. Like you belonged.

The music is a hypnotic blend of synth and percussion, loud enough that conversation means leaning in close. You find an empty spot at the counter and order a drink, letting the music wash over you while you scan the room.

A playful guitar riff from a familiar song comes on, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” – not a track you expected to hear in a place like this, but it sets the perfect mood.

You tap your fingers in time on the bar top, softly humming along. Suddenly, a warm voice speaks near your ear, just loud enough to cut through the music.

“You have good taste,” the man says, motioning to the ceiling where the speakers are hidden. “Not many people appreciate this song anymore.”

Startled, you turn to face him and are met with a pair of friendly brown eyes and a teasing smile. The club’s soft lights dance across strong features – scruffy salt-and-pepper stubble along a sharp jaw, tousled dark hair, and a presence that is immediately disarming and electric all at once.

It takes you a second to place him. Pedro Pascal, your mind registers with a jolt. You almost doubt yourself in the dark, but that distinctive, warm grin and the confident ease in his posture are unmistakable. For a split second you’re starstruck – you've admired him on screen for ages – but you quickly remind yourself to breathe. Here, he's just a gorgeous man in a bar making conversation.

You laugh softly, leaning against the bar as you recover from the surprise. "I could say the same. Joy Division in a club is a bold choice," you reply, raising your glass slightly in a toast to the DJ. "But I'm not complaining." Pedro clinks his own drink to yours. "To good music and unexpected company," he quips, eyes not leaving yours as you both take a sip.

He sat down beside you like he’d been invited by fate.

The conversation flows easily from there, starting with music. It turns out you share an affinity for 80s post-punk and alternative rock. He grins with genuine enthusiasm when you mention your love for The Cure and Depeche Mode, and soon you're comparing favorite albums. The bond over music comes naturally, each shared reference and passion forming a crackle of connection between you.

The longer you talk, the closer Pedro shifts toward you, drawn in by the mutual excitement. The club around you fades slightly out of focus; the only thing in sharp detail is him – the way his eyes light up when you make a witty retort, and the subtle, crooked smile that tugs at his lips every time you surprise him with another common interest.

As the minutes pass, your initial nervousness melts away, replaced by a warm glow fueled by both the alcohol and Pedro’s undivided attention. He is charismatic in a quiet way, not the boisterous type you often encounter at bars. Instead, he listens intently when you speak, and his responses are thoughtful, laced with a flirty edge that makes your stomach flutter.

You notice the way he occasionally glances down at your body appreciatively, though he is nothing but gentlemanly in his words. It's in those brief, heated glances – a sweeping look at the curve of your hips, or the way his gaze lingers on the swell of your breasts beneath your top – that you sense a deeper interest than just friendly conversation. Each time, he meets your eyes again and smirks as if he knows exactly what he’s doing, and you feel your skin flush warm under his gaze.

When you tease him about one of his movie roles, a playful glint sparks in your eyes – your little hint of brattiness showing itself.

"I hope you dance better than you did in that one scene," you jibe lightly, referencing a comedic moment from one of his projects with a grin.

He lets out a surprised laugh, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, you caught that, did you?" he says with mock chagrin. He steps a half-step closer, close enough that your shoulder brushes against his chest. "I promise I'm much better with my moves in real life." The double entendre in his words is unmistakable, and paired with that low, honeyed tone of his voice, it sends a thrill up your spine.

You raise your chin a little in challenge, eyes sparkling. "Is that so? Maybe I'll have to see for myself." It's bold – the words just slip out – but judging by the way Pedro’s smile darkens into something more primal, it was exactly the right thing to say.

He tilts his head, studying you for a moment with that intense gaze. "Careful," he murmurs. "I might hold you to that." His fingers lightly brush the back of your hand resting on the bar, a brief test of boundaries that leaves tingles in their wake. You feel your breath catch, heart skipping a beat at the contact and at the promise woven into his words.

Before you can respond, the DJ transitions into another track – this time something more industrial with a throbbing beat that vibrates through the floor. The crowd cheers and some people head to the dance floor.

 Pedro’s attention flickers toward the dancing bodies and back to you. He leans in, lips near your ear so you can hear him over the music. "Do you want to dance?" he asks. His breath is warm against your ear, and the closeness makes you shiver pleasantly.

You nod, taking his hand as he offers it. The air between you is charged as he leads you to where others have started moving.

The music is dark and sensual, and Pedro wastes no time finding a rhythm with you. His hands slide to your waist, fingers splaying just above the curve of your hips, and you automatically move in closer. Your bodies find a slow, grinding sway to the music. With him behind you, you can feel the heat radiating off his body and the solid firmness of his chest as it presses against your back. The intimacy of the position sends your pulse racing.

His thigh slips between yours from behind as you move, allowing you to rub against it slightly with each sway. You let out a soft, involuntary gasp at the friction. Pedro hears it; you feel the rumble of a satisfied growl low in his throat as he tightens his grip on your hips, guiding you to grind just a little harder.

"That's it," he murmurs close to you, the encouragement almost lost in the music, but you catch it. One of his hands skims up your side, trailing the outline of your curves. He’s testing the waters, seeing how you respond, and your body answers for you by arching into his touch.

The club lights flash intermittently, and in those flickers you catch sight of his face over your shoulder. His eyes are half-lidded, focused on you with open desire now, and his lips are parted as if savoring the moment. You realize you're wearing an almost identical expression – completely caught up in the heat that's building between you two on the dance floor.

When his hand daringly grazes the side of your breast, you respond with a playful wiggle of your hips against him, earning a sharp inhale from Pedro. He chuckles low in your ear. "Brat," he whispers, the word dripping with amusement and a hint of warning. The label sends a flush of both embarrassment and excitement through you. You like that he’s noticing your teasing, and that he's calling you out on it in such a delicious way.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you reply innocently, turning your head so that your cheek nearly brushes against his lips. The coy tone in your voice is belied by the mischievous grin you can't hide.

Pedro just shakes his head with a soft laugh, and then you feel the gentle scrape of his teeth as he nips lightly at the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. The sensation draws a surprised moan from you before you can stop it. The spot he bit tingles, and you suspect he might have left a faint mark. His tongue swiftly follows to soothe the spot, a silent apology that only stokes the fire inside you.

He presses a kiss to your neck, lips warm and lingering as the song continues to envelop you both. "You drive a hard bargain," he murmurs against your skin, his voice rougher now with arousal. "I was going to behave myself a little longer, but you're making that very difficult."

There's a tension in his tone – restrained, as if he's holding himself back. That realization sends a thrill through you: the knowledge that he wants you, that you're tempting him to lose composure.

By the time the track ends, you are both breathing a little harder, and not from the dancing alone. The air between you is thick with lust and unspoken possibilities. Pedro gently turns you to face him. His hands remain on your waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles that make it hard to think straight.

“You come here to watch?” he asked, voice low and edged with something darker. “Or to play?”

You met his gaze and smiled slowly. “Maybe both.”

He stood, offered a hand. “There’s a room in the back. Private. Stocked.” His eyes flicked down to your lips, then back up. “Let me take care of you tonight. Show you how good it can feel.”

You barely remembered the walk—just the pressure of his palm on your lower back, the faint scent of tobacco and leather clinging to him, the heat curling low in your stomach.

Your heart is pounding with excitement and a touch of nerves as Pedro leads you down a short hallway to one of the private rooms. The hall is quieter, muffling the club music to a dull thump behind closed doors.

At a discrete black door with the number 7 on it, Pedro pauses and turns to you, his eyes serious for a moment beneath the lust.

"Before we go in," he says quietly, "you can say no at any time. If you change your mind, just tell me and we stop. Okay?" His expression is earnest, and the fact that he's checking in so considerately makes you melt a little.

Your pulse flutters. You nod, appreciating the care. "Okay," you reply softly. "I'll tell you if I want to stop." The hint of a grateful smile touches his lips, and he squeezes your hand. With that reassurance, he opens the door and ushers you inside.

The room was dim, backlit by soft amber lights. A four-poster bed sat in the center, draped in black. Shelves lined with implements: paddles, floggers, ropes, blindfolds, clips, vibrators. Like a curated museum of sin.

He turned to face you, brushing his knuckles down your cheek. “Color system?”

“Green,” you whispered.

“Safe word?”

You told him, and he kissed the corner of your mouth like a reward.

“Clothes off. Slow. I want to watch.”

You undressed under his gaze, heart hammering. When the corset finally slid off, baring your full curves to him, his eyes darkened.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmured, stepping forward to kneel in front of you. His hands gripped your thighs, pressing kisses along your hips, your belly, before spreading you open and burying his face between your legs.

You cried out, one hand bracing on the bedpost, the other tangled in his hair. His tongue was relentless—broad strokes, focused flicks, slow circles that teased your clit just shy of what you needed. He pulled back when you were right there, his lips slick with you.

“You don’t come until I say. Understand?”

You nodded, breathless.

“No, baby. Say it.”

“I won’t come until you say,” you gasped.

“Good girl.” he praises, and your heart skips at the warmth those words ignite in you.

You suspect he can feel the way you shiver at the praise because he smirks knowingly and leans down to kiss you again. As he does, his hand reaches above your head. You hear a soft clink of metal on wood – likely him grabbing something from the headboard or a nearby hook.

He breaks the kiss and you feel the cool touch of leather encircling one wrist, then a soft click – a cuff fastening. Your pulse quickens as he gently but firmly pulls your other wrist up and secures it as well.

You test your arms and find them bound together by what feels like a short bar or strap, and attached to the headboard. Excitement and a tiny bit of panic intermingle, but mostly it's a heady rush to know you're now effectively at his mercy.

You felt vulnerable and feral all at once.

Pedro’s voice was close, teasing your ear. “You look like a fucking goddess tied up like this. All curves and heat and need.”

The first slap of the flogger made you jolt. Not pain—more of a sting, a delicious bite that spread like heat across your skin. He struck you again. And again. Each one met with a moan that made him growl.

“You take it so well,” he murmured. “I can see you dripping from here.

He sits back on his heels between your legs for a moment to admire his handiwork: you, naked and bound beneath him, chest heaving with anticipation.

"You look incredible like this," Pedro says, voice rough. He runs his hands from your wrists down the length of your arms, then over your collarbones. The lightest touch, yet it leaves a trail of goosebumps. "All mine," he adds, almost to himself, as his hands travel further down. They glide over the soft swell of your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples again briefly, then continue down your torso.

When his palms flatten against your belly, you tense slightly out of habit, but his touch there is warm and appreciative. He notices your reaction and meets your eyes, pausing his exploration.

"You're so damn sexy," he says fervently. "Every part of you."

To prove his point, he lowers himself and presses slow, sucking kisses across your belly, showing extra attention to the parts you feel shy about.

Each kiss is like a balm, erasing a bit of your insecurity. You can only whimper and arch under him, any self-conscious thoughts drowned out by the pleasure of his lips on your skin.

His mouth continues its journey downward, and your breath hitches as he approaches your aching center. He shifts, hooking your thighs over his broad shoulders.

Instinctively, you try to close your legs at the intensity of the anticipation, but the position and his grip prevent it.

 "Easy," he soothes, planting a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh. "I’ve got you."

And then he reaches over to the nightstand and grabs something – a soft black silk blindfold. You hadn't even noticed it laying there. He holds it up briefly as if to show you.

"This okay?" he asks, the final check. Your heart is in your throat with excitement as you nod.

"Yes, please," you manage to say. The idea of surrendering your sight to him sends another pulse of arousal through you.

Gently, he slips the blindfold over your eyes and ties it snugly at the back of your head. The world goes dark. Immediately, your senses heighten; you can hear your own breathing and the distant muffled bass from the club outside, feel the slight coolness of the room on your heated skin, and smell the subtle mix of your arousal and his scent (a mix of his cologne, woodsy and spice, and the musk of sweat from your heated activities).

The bed dips as he settles back between your legs and you feel his hands on your knees, sliding up to part your thighs further. You are completely exposed to him, blind and bound. The vulnerability is intense, but instead of fear, you feel exhilaration. Every nerve is on fire waiting for his next touch.

His fingertips trace feather-light patterns along your inner thighs, avoiding the place you need him most, and it's maddening. You let out a soft whine, lifting your hips a little, silently begging. He chuckles darkly.

 "So eager," he murmurs. A smack lands on your outer thigh – not too hard, but enough to make you gasp. "Stay still, cariño," he growls, the dominant edge in his voice unmistakable now. "I'll give you what you need. Be patient for me."

You bite your lip hard, trying to obey, trying to still the trembling of your thighs. But he isn't making it easy.

You feel the bed shift as he lowers himself, and then – oh god – the first hot, broad lick of his tongue up your slit. A cry tears from your throat at the sudden jolt of pleasure. He groans against you, apparently enjoying your taste as much as you enjoy his tongue.

He starts slow, languidly exploring your folds with his mouth, teasing every sensitive spot except the one you want him to focus on most. He avoids your clit at first, licking around it in cruel teasing circles, making your hips twitch upward seeking friction.

He notices and one strong arm comes across your hips, pinning you down firmly against the mattress. "I said stay still," Pedro admonishes between kisses against your inner lips, voice vibrating directly against your core.

The sensation makes you moan wantonly. You force yourself to still your hips, gripping the cuffs binding your wrists to give yourself something to hold onto.

"Good girl," he purrs, and rewards you by finally wrapping his lips around your clit. The suction and the sudden flick of his tongue over that bundle of nerves make you nearly scream.

Only the awareness that there are other rooms and people beyond the wall keeps you to a loud cry. Pleasure radiates outward from your center, and your toes curl in your heels as he works you with expert attention.

Pedro feasts on you like a man starving, alternating between suckling your clit and dipping his tongue inside your entrance to lap at the flood of arousal there. The lewd wet sounds of his mouth on you and your own helpless moans fill the room, an erotic symphony accompanying the distant bass.

Your world narrows to just these sensations – the heat coiling in your belly, the pressure building inside as he relentlessly pleasures you. He slides two fingers into you without warning, and they slip in easily with how wet you are. He curls them just right, finding that spongy spot inside that makes you cry out his name.

"That's it," he mutters against your clit, voice rough. "Moan for me. Let me hear how good I'm making you feel." You oblige with another loud moan, no longer caring who might hear. He pumps his fingers steadily, a firm rhythm that has you hurtling towards climax faster than you expected.

Your breathing turns ragged, thighs quivering around his head. You can feel the orgasm approaching, a tightening low in your belly.

"Pedro," you gasp, a warning, as your muscles start to clench around his thrusting fingers. "I-I'm gonna—"

Suddenly, he withdraws his fingers and mouth completely, pulling away from you. The loss of contact is so abrupt, it's like a bucket of cold water. The almost-orgasm that was within reach shatters and dissipates, leaving you on a cruel edge.

A firm slap to your thigh. “No. Not yet.”

You sob in frustration at the denial, hips bucking upward desperately, trying to chase his mouth. But his arm still pins your pelvis down and now his other hand comes to press on your inner thigh, keeping you spread but offering no relief.

You whined, hips bucking. He chuckled, low and dark.

"Not yet, hermosa," Pedro tuts. His voice is smug and dripping with control. "You were going to come without permission." Even though you can't see him, you just know he's watching you with that infuriatingly sexy smirk, enjoying the way you squirm.

You whine, nearly a wail, and tug at your restraints. It’s half reflex, half hoping maybe you could free a hand to finish yourself because you're throbbing with need. But the cuffs hold firm. "Please," you manage, your voice high and needy. "Please, I need—"

A sharp slap lands right on your swollen clit, shocking you. It wasn't very hard, more surprising than painful, but it makes you yelp and instantly silences your begging. Your clit throbs from the light impact, somehow adding to the overwhelming cocktail of sensations rather than diminishing it.

"What did I say about patience?" Pedro growls. He's still between your legs; you can feel his hot breath against your overstimulated center.

"You'll come when I let you, understand?" His tone is commanding, the rough Dominant you sensed in him fully present now. Yet beneath it there's a thread of care – he wants you to feel good, just on his terms.

You nod frantically, forgetting for a moment that he might want a verbal answer since you’re blindfolded. "Y-yes, sir," you stammer automatically. The honorific slips out without thinking, but it feels right on your tongue.

He inhales sharply, clearly affected by the title you granted him. "Good girl," he rumbles, and you practically preen at the praise despite your predicament. "Let's see if you can control yourself for me. If you do..." He trails a finger teasingly through your slick folds, avoiding your clit this time. "I'll make sure your mind blanks out from how hard you come. That's a promise."

His words alone send a thrill through you. You nod again, biting your lip. "I’ll be good," you breathe. "I promise."

"That's what I like to hear," Pedro says. Then, to your surprise, you feel him shift away.

The weight on the bed changes as he moves, and you hear the soft rustle of him removing his jeans and perhaps his boxers. Your heart jumps at the realization that he's undressing; soon you'll feel him skin to skin.

You strain to hear any little sound – a zipper, fabric hitting the floor – and your anticipation spikes knowing he's likely naked now, or nearly so.

The next thing you feel is the bed dipping again and the heat of his body covering yours as he returns to you.

His mouth captures yours in a ravenous kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips and chin, an erotic reminder of what he was just doing to you. The kiss is bruising and hungry; you return it with equal passion, tongues tangling.

His bare chest is pressed to yours, the hair on his torso tickling your sensitive nipples as you arch into him. God, the feeling of his warm, solid body on top of you when you can't use your hands to touch him back – it's a special kind of torment.

You instinctively spread your legs wider to accommodate him between them, and you feel the hard length of his cock brush against your inner thigh, so close to where you need it.

A moan slips from you into his mouth at the tease of contact. You want to see him badly – to take in the sight of his naked form and the lust on his face – but the blindfold forces you to experience it differently, focusing on sound, touch, and taste. In some ways, it's even more intense this way. Every brush of his skin, every breathy sound he makes is magnified.

"You want me inside you, don't you?" Pedro husks against your lips as he breaks the kiss. He starts kissing along your jaw and down your neck again, his hips grinding slowly, letting the tip of his cock slide through your slick folds without entering. It's a tantalizing preview that has you trembling.

"Yes," you gasp, back arching as he teases your entrance. "Please, Pedro... I want you. I need you."

He groans softly at your plea, clearly stoking his ego and desire. "You feel how hard I am for you?" he whispers, shifting to rub the head of his cock against your clit once, making you both moan.

He's indeed rock hard, and you can tell he's of considerable size. The thought of that thickness stretching you makes your walls flutter in anticipation.

"Condom?" he asks suddenly, voice strained like it's taking all his self-control not to just take you right now.

"Please... I- I'm on the pill," you manage, desperate for him not to stop and break this momentum. And you trust him; after all, he's been responsible in everything so far tonight, and you find yourself willing to take this pleasure raw.

He growls in appreciation, understanding your meaning. "Good girl."

The tip of his cock finds your entrance and he begins to push in slowly. Both of you gasp – you, at the stretching burn as your body adjusts to him, and him, at the sheer tight heat of you enveloping him inch by inch. Even with how wet you are, the girth of him is a delicious challenge.

He pauses once the tip is in, to let you catch your breath. "Relax, baby," he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth sweetly, a tender contrast to the filthy act of him breaching you. "You can take it."

You nod, forcing yourself to unclench, to breathe. He circles his hips a little, working himself deeper, then pulls back a touch, then slides in further.

Inch by inch, he works his cock into you, carefully but persistently, until finally, with a low groan, he bottoms out. He is seated fully inside you, his hips flush with yours.

The fullness is overwhelming – bordering on too much – but then your body adjusts and it transforms into an incredible sense of being completely filled, utterly possessed.

You cry out at the sensation, head thrown back; if not for the cuffs you'd be clawing at his back. "Oh my god..." you whimper. "Pedro..." His name on your lips comes out half-sob, half-moan. He stills, buried deep, allowing you to accommodate him. You feel so stretched, so vulnerable, tied up and blindfolded with this large man inside you. And you feel amazing.

He kisses you softly, tenderly, lingering for a long moment while you both just revel in the feeling. His hand finds yours, fingers entwining in a reassuring squeeze above your head. It's oddly sweet and grounding in the midst of such raw passion. "Doing okay?" he asks, slightly breathless.

You manage a smile between panting breaths. "More than okay," you assure him. "Please move." You roll your hips a little to emphasize your need, earning a hiss of pleasure from him as your movement squeezes him inside you.

"As you wish," he replies, and you can hear a smile in his tone.

He withdraws slowly until just the tip remains inside, then thrusts back in with a controlled, firm stroke. The friction of him dragging against your inner walls makes stars explode behind your eyelids. You choke out a moan. He starts a steady rhythm then – pulling out and sliding back in, gradually increasing the pace as he gauges your reactions.

His hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he picks up speed. The bed creaks softly with the force of his thrusts now. The room fills with an erotic melody: your helpless cries and gasps, his ragged grunts, the slap of skin on skin as his hips meet your thighs. He pounds into you, each stroke hitting deep and rubbing that perfect spot inside that makes you see white-hot pleasure.

Your bound hands clench uselessly above you, desperate to cling to something. The coil in your belly that had been wound tight from earlier starts tightening again quickly – too quickly. You realize with a start that you're already on the brink from how expertly he's fucking you, combined with the earlier denial. And he hasn't given you permission yet.

Desperately, you try to hold back, to last longer. But Pedro knows. He can feel the way your pussy is fluttering and clenching erratically around him as your body races toward release.

He slows his thrusts deliberately, grinding into you deeply but more slowly, holding you just at the edge. It's agony and ecstasy. You actually sob, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes under the blindfold from the intensity of needing to come so badly.

"P-please... please, sir," you beg in a broken whisper, not caring how desperate you sound. "I c-can't... please let me cum."

Pedro lowers himself onto his forearms, changing the angle slightly as his face comes right next to yours. His thrusts remain slow and torturous. His breath is hot on your ear as he speaks, voice gravelly with restraint.

"You want to cum, sweet girl?" he drawls, licking a stripe up the side of your neck that makes you shudder. "You've been so good for me... took your spanking so well, let me tie you up and use you... such a perfect little submissive."

His words are like fire, each one fueling your desire. You nod frantically, a tear finally escaping down your cheek from sheer overwhelming need.

He kisses that tear away softly, a brief tender gesture that contrasts with the edgy control he's exerting. "Shh, don't cry. I'll take care of you," he whispers, and those words themselves feel as comforting as a caress. "You want to cum?" he repeats, speeding up just a fraction, his hips snapping a little harder into yours again. "Then cum for me. Come on, baby, let go. You've earned it."

The permission – so graciously given in that rough, sexy voice – is all you needed. You don't hold back; you can't at this point even if you tried. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave.

You let out a wail as your entire body tenses, then shatters into pure ecstasy. Your pussy clenches violently around Pedro’s cock, pulsing in waves as you cum harder than you ever have in your life. Pleasure ribbons out from your core to every limb. It's so intense, it's almost overwhelming – tears leak from your eyes beneath the blindfold as you sob through the euphoria.

"That's it... fuck, yes, that's it!" Pedro groans. Feeling you cum pushes him right to the edge. He curses under his breath in a mix of English and Spanish, his control finally shattering. With a few more hard thrusts, he holds himself deep inside you and lets go.

His body shudders above you as he releases, hot spurts filling you as he moans your name. The sensation of him coming inside only prolongs your orgasm; you swear you feel each pulse of him as another aftershock ripples through your own body.

He collapses against you, catching most of his weight on his elbows so he doesn't crush you completely, but enough that you feel deliciously pinned by his spent body. Both of you are gasping for air, trembling in the aftermath.

Your heart feels like it's pounding in your throat, and your limbs are heavy and boneless in the wake of such an intense climax. You distantly note that your cheeks are wet from a few tears, but you're too blissed-out to care or feel self-conscious.

For a long moment, the only sound is the mingled panting of your breaths and the muted bass from outside. Still blindfolded and bound, you float in a haze of satisfaction. Pedro peppers soft, lazy kisses along your jaw and neck as you both come down, murmuring praise between each one.

"You did so well," he whispers, voice hoarse but gentle. "So perfect, cariño."

Each word of praise warms your chest with a different kind of pleasure – pride, contentment, even love. With your hands still bound, you can only tilt your head toward his kisses, silently showing your appreciation.

Eventually, he gently withdraws from your oversensitive body, making you both hiss at the aftershocks. You feel suddenly empty without him, but the loss is soon replaced by gratitude as he moves swiftly to untie your wrists.

The leather cuffs come loose and your arms are finally free. They ache dully from being restrained in one position for so long. You flex your fingers, and before you can even wince at the soreness, Pedro's hands are there rubbing your wrists softly, massaging away any stiffness.

He reaches behind your head and carefully unties the blindfold, pulling it away from your eyes. You blink a few times, adjusting to the low light.

The first thing you see is his face hovering above yours, concern evident in his furrowed brow. His hair is a sweaty mess, curls sticking to his forehead, and his lips are kiss-swollen. To you, he’s never looked more gorgeous.

"Hi," you whisper with a tired smile, meeting his gaze.

He smiles back, relief and tenderness in his expression. "Hi, hermosa." He brushes his thumbs over your cheeks, wiping away the wetness there. "These okay? Not tears of anything bad?" he asks softly, referring to the tears you shed at the peak of it all.

You shake your head, leaning into his touch. "They were... very good tears," you assure him with a soft laugh. "That was just... intense." A flush warms your face as you recall how desperate and loud you got. "In a good way," you add quickly, not wanting him to worry.

His shoulders relax and he chuckles quietly. "Intense is one word for it." He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, this time slow and sweet – a stark contrast to the feral kisses from before. You sigh contentedly into it, wrapping your now-free arms around him to hold him close.

You both linger like that for a while, trading soft kisses and tender touches as you bask in the afterglow. Pedro’s hands roam over you in light caresses, as if he can't get enough of touching your body – but now those touches are soothing, affectionate strokes along your sides, your hips, your thighs. He handles you like something precious, and it makes your chest tight with a warm emotion that goes beyond simple lust.

At one point he breaks the comfortable silence, murmuring, "Stay here, I'll be right back." He slips off the bed, and you watch, unabashedly admiring the full view of his naked form as he walks to a small en-suite bathroom attached to the room.

The red light bathes his muscular back and perfect ass in a flattering glow. You bite your lip, already feeling a pleasant ache between your legs that will no doubt remind you of him for days.

Pedro returns with a warm, damp washcloth and a bottle of water. Ever thoughtful, he tends to you first, gently cleaning the stickiness from between your thighs and wherever else the evidence of your lovemaking lingers.

His touch is careful and respectful, almost reverent as he cleans you, making sure not to overstimulate now-sensitive areas. It’s such an intimate, caring gesture that your heart swells. When he’s done, he helps you sit up enough to take a few sips of water, making sure you're hydrated and okay. You murmur a thank you, touched by his attentiveness.

He then quickly sees to himself with the cloth, wiping his lower abdomen and any remaining wetness. Afterwards, he tosses the cloth aside and joins you back on the bed, pulling you into his arms without hesitation.

You go willingly, nestling against his chest. He’s warm and solid, and his natural scent mixed with a hint of sweat is oddly comforting in the aftermath of sex. One of his arms wraps around your back, the other hand comes up to stroke your hair.

"You alright?" he asks softly after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence. There’s a hint of vulnerability in his tone, as if he's truly concerned that he might have been too rough or that you might regret this.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze. His brown eyes search yours, and all you can see in them now is a gentle earnestness that makes you smile. "I'm perfect," you reply, and you mean it. "That was... beyond anything I imagined." A light laugh escapes you. "You, Pedro Pascal, definitely live up to your reputation."

He laughs at that, a real, warm laugh that rumbles in his chest under your cheek. "Oh? And what reputation is that?"

You pretend to consider, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest. "Heartthrob. Charmer. And, based on tonight... very skilled." The last part you add in a teasing whisper, and you feel his chest vibrate as he chuckles again.

"I'm glad I haven't disappointed," he says, tilting your chin up with a knuckle so he can steal another soft kiss. His expression grows a bit more serious afterward, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "You were amazing. So responsive and trusting." He smirks then, adding, "And just the right amount of bratty."

You giggle, feeling heat rise in your cheeks at his praise. A comfortable lull falls between you as you both simply enjoy the closeness. It's surprising, perhaps, how natural it feels to lie here in the arms of a man you technically just met tonight.

But something about the intensity of what you shared feels bonding – as if you've known each other longer. The way he's holding you, warm and protective, you certainly feel cared for.

Eventually, you know you'll have to leave the room and step back into reality. But for now, wrapped up in this sensual afterglow, you allow yourself to just be. You pepper a tiny kiss on his collarbone and sigh happily, closing your eyes.

Pedro shifts slightly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asks quietly.

You smile against his skin. "Just thinking how I don't want this night to end," you admit softly. It's a vulnerable confession, but in this red-lit cocoon of a private room, with your body still humming from multiple orgasms and your heart fluttering with endorphins, it feels right to be honest.

He pulls you a little tighter, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "It doesn't have to, not yet," he murmurs. "We have the room for as long as we want." There's a comforting promise in his tone.

You tilt your head up. "As long as we want, hm?" You raise an eyebrow playfully. "Planning to keep me all night?"

His eyes darken a fraction, that familiar smolder returning just a bit. "If I had my way, I'd keep you much longer." He says it with a half-smile, but you sense the sincerity beneath it. "At least until we work through that entire wall of toys." He nods toward the array of BDSM implements displayed, a mischievous glint in his eye now.

Your breath catches at the idea, a fresh flicker of arousal stirring in your belly despite your satiation. You laugh softly, feigning exasperation. "Insatiable," you accuse, but your grin gives you away.

He laughs and nuzzles into your hair. "For you? Absolutely." Then he takes a deep breath, voice turning earnest once more.

"I'd love to see you again after tonight... if you want." The hint of uncertainty – almost shyness – in his proposition is endearing coming from a man who just had you tied up and screaming his name.

You answer by lifting up enough to kiss him deeply, pouring your gratitude and enthusiasm into it. When you part, you whisper, "I do want." You rest your forehead against his, smiling. "Maybe we can explore that list of favorite bands we talked about over drinks, and then some."

The grin that spreads across Pedro's face is radiant. "It's a date," he says softly, sealing the promise with another tender kiss.

Later, wrapped in his arms, the room still scented like sex and skin and sweat, he kissed your shoulder and said softly, “Next time, I’m tying myself up. Let you have your way.”

You smirked. “You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

His laugh was pure sin. “Now that sounds like a challenge.”

AN: This.... ended up a LOT longer than anticipated. Huge love to all my plus-size babes—you deserve to be worshipped and ruined just like this. 💋 There’s definitely potential for a part 2 👀 I’m already thinking about what happens after this night. Let me know if you’d want to see it continue!

[nikkento-writes]

Toro! Toro!

We're waking up the people down the hall, you're a bull and I can't help but say, "Toro! Toro!"

Pairing: Aoi Todo x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.3k

cw: canon universe, popstar!reader (stage name Luna Lux), all characters are 18+, explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut – cunnilingus, blow job, vaginal fingering, nipple play, spit play, PIV sex – doggy, cowgirl, pet names, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie

Summary: Breaking news! International up-and-coming pop princess Luna Lux is causing quite the stir with her alleged boyfriend! Witnesses say the two were having loud sex well into the night until hotel staff had to take matters into their own hands. But who is this mystery fellow? Despite multiple accounts of being heard doing the deed behind closed doors, the pop star’s supposed boy toy continues to elude being seen by both the media and even her own manager! With his knack for disappearing into thin air, it sounds like this stud is a real sorcerer!

Author's Note: Completely and unabashedly based on the song “Toro” by Remi Wolf. This SCREAMS Aoi Todo to me. This was so much fun to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Divider credit to the wonderful @/cafekitsune.

It’s past midnight by the time you and your manager make it back to your hotel room, exhausted from tonight’s rehearsals. With only a protein bar and a few handfuls of popcorn as your dinner, you’re desperate for a proper meal before calling it a day. “Can we please, please order room service?” you beg her, collapsing onto the bed, too tired to change out of your sweaty clothes. “I’m starving and I won’t be able to sleep unless I get some real food in me.”

Kina doesn’t respond, the room phone already up to her ear, ordering the usual. When she hangs up, she snaps at you to get up, crinkling her nose. “You stink.”

“Aw, thanks K. Always the sweetest,” you grin at her, rolling on your stomach to rest your chin on your hands, kicking your feet back and forth in the air. 

She rolls her eyes, feigning annoyance as she retrieves one of the bath robes in the closet for you, laying it on the nearest armchair. “After we eat, you should shower then go straight to bed. You need all your rest for tomorrow’s show.” 

Manager K is right; it’s the last show and probably the most important. After tomorrow, you can officially say you’ve completed your first tour. It hasn’t been an easy journey; years and years of practicing your craft at malls, local fairs, small stages in front of people who had no clue nor cared who you were. You’re finally here with your best friend slash manager right alongside with you. Not only that, you’ve amassed quite the following of fans who cherish you, so much that they’ve made your debut tour a massive success. You appreciate every single one of them. 

However, there is one that you are particularly fond of, and his name is Aoi Todo. 

Todo’s been to almost every show since the start of the tour, with the exception to a few he absolutely couldn’t attend due to work obligations. He’s been to all of your meet-and-greets and is the current president of your fan club online. Most of his wardrobe is merchandise with your face on it, always proudly wearing it like a badge of honor. He even keeps a locket with your picture in it, next to a photo of his brother, Yuji, which you surprisingly find very endearing. 

It just so happens that he’s also your boyfriend. Your very hot, massively ripped boyfriend. 

You met a little over two years ago, when you were opening for your good friend Nobuko Takada, famously known in Japan as Tall-Idol Takada-Chan. At the time, Todo was her biggest fan, so much so that he considered her his future wife. Somehow, someway, he found his new obsession in you. You’d normally tend to avoid fans like this, but Todo is different. He’s the exception. You find his presence comforting. Even when you mess up the lyrics to a song, experience bouts of stage fright, miss a step in your choreography, Todo always gazes at you with the brightest stars in his eyes, as if you’re the most talented, beautiful person he’s ever seen. He loves you with every fiber of his being, whether you’re on stage as Luna Lux the popstar or offstage as you. And you love him right back. 

That being said, his prowess in the bedroom is an added bonus. He knows all the ways to help you relax after an especially grueling day of practice and rehearsals. Just like tonight. 

You’ve become notorious now for sneaking your boyfriend into your room when you’ve been explicitly told not to, specifically by Kina. It’s not that she dislikes him; in fact, she hasn’t even met him yet. You and Todo decided from the start that your relationship would remain a secret to protect his identity. Being a highly ranked Jujutsu Sorcerer already comes with its own risks and adding an extra spotlight on him will only cause more stress. Besides, it’s quite fun seeing how far you can push against the boundaries until you’re actually caught.  

On the other hand, Manager K doesn’t find it fun at all. Her expression is somber, voice stern when she states your real name, talking to you directly and not to your pop persona Luna Lux. That’s when you know she means business. “Do not meet with your boyfriend tonight. Understand?”

You knew this was going to come up. Playing dumb, you respond, “What boyfriend?”

One of her eyes twitch, clearly fed up with your antics. “I’m serious.”

She stares you down until you give in, flipping over on your back and groaning. “Why not?!” you whine, purposefully being an annoying little shit. “You know I perform way better after a good fuck.”

Kina makes a face, disgusted by your vulgarity. “Gross. Seriously, though. There are reporters all over this hotel, on this very floor even. They would have a field day with this.”

“Yeah. If we’re caught,” you add. “Which won’t happen.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, smirking. “You do realize how close you’ve been, right? The two of you have been getting more and more reckless. It’s bound to happen soon.”

You raise a brow at her. “Sounds like you’re hoping for it.”

She eases up, sitting at the edge of the bed beside you. “I’m getting real tired of running around and doing damage control for you two horny freaks. And I’ll admit, I’m curious. What’s so great about this guy that you can’t reveal his identity, even to me?”

You sit up, smiling at her. “Kina, as much as I want to tell you about how amazing he is, I just can’t. Not yet at least. I want to protect him from this craziness for as long as possible. You just have to trust me for now, okay?”

Kina has your best interest at heart, you know that. She wants to make sure that this guy is really worth it, is not some crazed fan only interested in Luna Lux and not the real person behind the popstar. At the same time, she can’t force you to give up his anonymity. She knows better than anybody how insane the other fans will get once he becomes known. So, she has no other choice but to relent. “Fine. But please, for the love of god, can you just keep it in your pants until tomorrow night, after the show is over?”

You give her a sly grin, wrapping your arms around her in a big hug. “Whatever you say, Manager K.” She’s totally unaware that you’ve got both your fingers crossed. 

After the two of you scarf down a late dinner, Kina bids you goodnight, warning you once more not to do anything reckless, though you have no intentions of following through with that plan. As soon as she disappears down the hallway into her own room, you lock the door and send out a text to Todo:

The hawk has left the nest.

Setting down your phone on the nightstand, you strip completely out of your sweaty clothes, leaving you stark naked, except for the locket around your neck. You feel it, tracing the edges before unclasping, laying it neatly on the bed. Leaving the robe Kina laid out for you on the armchair, you head straight for the bathroom, door ajar, running the shower on hot. 

Even with the loud splash of the shower, you hear the faint Boogie Woogie clap from outside the bathroom, the exact one you’ve been looking forward to all week. Smiling to yourself, you continue to lather soap onto your body, letting the water stream down to rinse off the suds. The creak of the door grabs your attention and through the shower’s glass, you see Todo walk in, wrapped in the robe that barely fits him. When he catches your eye, he smirks and the butterflies in your belly flutter. “Hey there, handsome,” you greet him, your pussy already throbbing with arousal.

“Hi, gorgeous.” He steps towards the shower, stopping to admire you, wet and dripping. 

You open the door for him, giving him a better view. “You look good in my hotel robe.”

“Yeah?” He’s practically drooling over your naked form.

Beckoning him in, you reply, “Yeah. But you’d look even better without it.”

He chuckles, slipping out of it, completely naked underneath. You move to one side of the shower, making just enough room for him. Water splashes off his massive chest, down his bulging biceps, dripping off his huge cock sprung hard against his six-pack. God, how you love having this himbo as your boyfriend. He watches silently you as you rub him with the bar of soap, lathering him up, a good reason to get your hands all over him. “How’s my baby doing tonight?” you ask him, spreading the suds across his shoulders.

“Fine. A bit tired from work. Missed you like hell.” His eyes follow your fingers as you graze his nipples. He holds you by the hips, pulling you closer. “How was rehearsals?”

“Exhausting.” You set the bar of soap aside, smiling as your hands travel farther, past his navel. “Luckily, I have a super sexy boyfriend to help me relax.” 

You surround his cock, slick and slippery with suds on the shaft. He shudders from your touch, grip tightening on your hips. “Fuck,” he mutters, looking down between you, resting his forehead on yours. “I’m the lucky one. So fucking lucky.”

You tip your head up to meet his lips for a kiss, cupping his balls and stroking his cock. He moans into your mouth, his fingers squeezing at your ass, spreading your cheeks apart. You turn around, teasing his cock between your butt, craning your neck to keep kissing him while he rubs at your clit, water still drizzling over the two of you. So clean and yet so dirty all at once. 

He makes you come with his fingers, tapping and massaging your sensitive bud until you’re gushing for him. “You want my cock now, baby?” he asks, mouth hot on your ear, his erection throbbing against you. His other hand plays with your nipples, pinching them with the precise amount of pressure to have you mewling.

As much as you’d love to get fucked in the shower, there’s simply no room for that with Todo’s massive body taking up nearly the entire space. It’s better for the two of you to move this onto the bed. You face him, shutting the shower off, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Let’s do it on the bed. More room for us to get nasty.”

He grins, lifting you up and hoisting you over his shoulder easily. “Got it, boss.” 

You giggle, punching his back playfully as he wipes you with a towel. “You’re a brute, you know that?”

When it’s dry, he slaps your ass, staring at it in the mirror as it jiggles from the contact. “You love it.” And he’s right, you do.

He carries you all the way to the bed, tossing you onto the mattress. As soon as you’re spread out for him, he positions himself between your thighs, eating you out sloppily, slipping two fingers in your wet cunt. “Fuck!” you whine, already sensitive from your first orgasm. He doesn’t relent, pumping his digits in and out of you while he flicks his tongue on your swollen bud, sending you into your second climax of the night, body in total bliss now, still greedy for more. “Fuck me, Aoi. Please,” you beg him. “Need your cock.”

“Not yet,” he muffles, sucking hard on your clit, causing you to cry out louder in pleasure. “One more for me, baby. I know you can do it.” He adds a third finger inside you, bucking his hips into the bed, desperate for any type of friction against his rock-hard cock. The sound of his fingers squelching with each pump is obscene. He hums into your skin, the vibrations adding to the sensation, encouraging you to give him another, which you do. 

You’re practically a puddle in the sheets now, your entire body slack, ecstasy coursing through you. He can do whatever he wants to you. You’d yield to his every desire, so fucked-out and intoxicated for him. Legs spread even wider, you reach for your pussy, spreading your cum on your clit. “More,” you whimper, touching yourself. 

“You’re extra greedy today,” he teases, pulling out of you to suck on his cum-coated fingers. He hawks a frothy wad of spit on your cunt, watching you rub it into your clit.

“It’s been a long day, I deserve it.” You stare at his cock, the tip leaking with precum now. “Can I get a taste, too?”

He obliges enthusiastically, moving up the bed to straddle your face, your favorite way to take his cock. You lick your lips, using your free hand to stroke him, taking his balls in your mouth first. “Fuck,” he curses, gripping onto the headboard. 

You smile, enjoying the way he’s unraveling above you. After a little more teasing, you guide the tip into your mouth, sucking on it. He swears again, his eyes shut, the sensation too much for him. You eventually make your way down the rest of his cock, taking him deeper until you’re to the hilt. 

“God, you’re so fucking sexy drooling all over my cock like that.” He slowly fucks your mouth, your lips smacked to the base of his dick with each thrust, swallowing him all the way down to the back of your throat. Your eyes water as you resist the gag reflex, too eager to satisfy him like this. When you reach your limit, he pulls out of you, panting softly as you guzzle all the saliva pooling in your mouth. Once you catch your breath, you give him a smile, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip. 

“You are such a dirty fucking girl,” he growls, crawling back down to peppers soft kisses along your body. “Sucking my cock while you touch yourself. What a naughty slut you are.” He pauses at your pussy once again, spreading his tongue on your clit for one more taste. You grab onto his hair, not bothering to contain the moans pouring out of your mouth. 

“Flip over,” he mumbles, eyes hazy with lust and desire. You can tell by the tremble in his voice that’s he’s trying his best to control himself from going absolutely feral on you, which makes you want to bring it out of him even more. 

You obey his command, yelping when drags you to the end of the bed, legs hanging off the edge, feet planted on the soft carpet. His thumb teases your slit, soaked and slippery from all of the previous orgasms. Carefully, he guides himself inside you, gradually making his way until he’s all in. “Fuck,” he purrs, staying still until you’ve fully adjusted to his size. “You feel so fucking good, sweetheart.”

It's like electricity all over your body to finally have him inside you like this, to be so full of him. You twist your neck to get a glimpse of him and when he meets your gaze, he grins. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

You smile back at him, clenching the sheets to brace yourself for the ride. “Fuck me hard.” 

Unlike before, he’s rough now, pounding into you like his fucking life depends on it. “Oh god, right there! Right there, fuck!” you encourage him, not bothering to cover your mouth. You’re sure by now the neighbors can hear, but you don’t care. All you care about is Todo and his cock pummeling into you. 

Once you come in this position, he slows the pace, increasing the severity of each thrust, fucking you so hard that the bedframe slams against the wall every time he plummets into you. “You love taking it like this, don’t you?”

“Yes!” you cry out, choking on your own spit as it dribbles out your mouth. You hear your phone start ringing on the nightstand; you ignore it, too lost in euphoria to give a damn.

Before you know it, Todo changes positions again, laying himself out on the bed. “Ride me, sweetie. Ride this fucking cock. Fuck me too.”

Desperate to be full of him again, you hop on top of him, teasing your pussy along his shaft before sinking down. He grips your hips firmly, rocking you back and forth on his lap until you’re able to muster the strength to ride him. You swallow thickly, finally able to speak coherently. “You should change your name from Todo to Toro,” you joke, grinding yourself against him.

“Huh? Like fatty tuna?” he asks, sweat dripping off his forehead, his expression genuinely confused.

“Toro is a bull in Spanish,” you explain, grinning at him, gyrating your hips for a deeper angle. “And you, big boy, are most definitely a toro with the way you’re pounding into me.”

He laughs, tightening his grip, wanting to regain control. “It’s fine, you can call me that if you want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You lean down to kiss him as he wraps his arms around you, planting his feet on the bed to fuck up into you. The phone keeps ringing beside you, and even through your incessant cries of “Toro! Toro!”, you can hear the buzz of excited chatter on the other side of the door. It’s the reporters Kina warned you about, getting another juicy story for the tabloids.

Todo continues to fuck you like this, his own moans louder now as he approaches his orgasm. The room phone starts to chime too, the staff trying to get a hold of you after noise complaints, something you’ve gotten used to since being with your incredibly sexy and voracious boyfriend. Still, no matter how hard they try to catch you in the act, they never will. And that’s what makes this so much fun. 

When he comes, you kiss him sloppily, clenching around his cock to keep his load inside you. You hear a familiar voice amidst the chaos on the other side of the door. Manager K shouts, “Luna Lux! Open the door. Now!”

Todo looks spent below you, in complete bliss, unfazed by the ratchet going on outside. “I should probably leave, huh?”

“I guess you should,” you pout, nuzzling your nose to his. “I miss you already.” 

“I miss you too. I’ll see you again in a few minutes,” he reassures you, caressing your cheek tenderly. “When the coast is clear.”

There’s pounding on the door, upper management getting involved to give you a stern talking to. “You better hurry back.” You lean closer, grazing his ear with your lips. “I want you to fuck more of your cum inside me.” 

He sucks in a breath, squeezing your ass cheeks with his big hands. “Fuck, baby. I promise I won’t make you wait long. Keep it in until then, okay?”

You kiss each other passionately one last time before he claps behind your back. Like magic, he’s gone, the shiny locket replacing him on the bed. 

The door opens, getting caught on the chain, your manager yelling your name through the tiny crack. “I know he’s in there! There’s no escape! I finally caught you two!”

You put on the locket then quickly slide into a robe, checking your reflection briskly in the mirror. Not that there’s anything that can reverse the damage done at this point. Reluctantly, you go to the door to unlock the chain. Kina barges in, staving off all the reporters and staff from bombarding you with questions. She searches the room for Todo, checking each nook and cranny for any sign of him, but no luck. Finally, she faces you, expression awe-struck. “Where is…how did he…?”

“I told you.” You flash her an innocent smile, crossing your legs and fiddling with the locket around your neck, fondly thinking about Todo who’s just two floors below you. “You just have to trust me.”

[ccazimi]

Currit in Sanguine Nostra

pt. 1 - pt. 2

cw: vampirehunter!sukuna x vampire!reader, dubcon, enemies to...enemies with benefits (??), blood obviously (blood drinking, bleeding, blood as lube), violence/fighting/gore/graphic descriptions of injuries, sadism/masochism, forced starvation, captivity, bondage (usage of muzzles/chains), knifeplay, wounding/cutting, degradation, feet stuff (reader humps his foot), humiliation, mild voyeurism wc: 12k a/n: this was so long i decided to just split it into parts :3 also i imagine sukuna to look like this in this fic

songs i listened to while writing this part

snarler - craig wedren, anna waronker

teeth - lady gaga

your addiction - night club

the wretched (remix) - nine inch nails

The first ever encounter with each other — that fight was brutal, messy.

Sloppy.

It was nearly midnight, in a long abandoned warehouse district at the outskirts of the city that Sukuna had tracked you into. Once bustling with activity, now a ghost town of rusting metal and crumbling brick.

The warehouse buildings have collapsed partially, some with entire walls missing, leaving jagged edges and exposed beams of twisted metal. Old rotten crates and broken machinery litter the ground, shards of shattered glass glinting in the faint, cold pools of light — flickering streetlights and and the occasional neon sign of an abandoned convenience store.

The place feels like a fun house in a fair, long warped shadows stretching over the debris.

And under the rain that falls in thick sheets, pouring relentlessly and drowning out the sound, you and Sukuna fight like wild animals.

None of the precision, the careful strategy or finesse one would perhaps expect from the final heirs of two ancient bloodlines—one born to hunt, the other born to feed.

Supposedly this feud started as far back as the Heian Era, possibly even longer. But none of that matters right now.

Right now you are just two inexperienced predators trying to kill each other.

You underestimated him—just another silly human, you thought. Hiding behind metal weapons, barking empty threats.

But you're the vampire. He’s the human - he should be prey.

And yet, Ryomen Sukuna is anything but.

Even in his own inexperience he’s a natural at what he’s supposed to be, making up for the lack of night vision with other senses that have been trained to compensate instead, keen enough that they could rival a vampire’s. He doesn’t need to see too well when he can rely on his hearing, on his quick reflexes, even his nose.

The rain proves to be a disadvantage as well, making the ground too slippery for you to effectively bolt at high speeds.

And soon the ground is splattered red, slick not just with rain.

Your fight was so primal, almost delirious in its intensity, that no words were even shared — just snarling and screaming and grunting and the thrashing of bodies and squelching of torn flesh.

Finally the deciding moment has come, where Sukuna pins you to the ground, thinking he has you. Broken glass cuts into your back, embedding itself into the skin, through the gaps of your already shredded top.

You’re no stranger to pain, though it does enrage you all the more.

So you fight dirty, spitting and digging your clawed nails across his face, that visceral yet satisfying feeling when you feel the nails, still filthy with the blood of your last kill, piercing into the soft, delicate flesh of his right eye.

The feeling could only be described as…gelatinous.

Sukuna’s agonized roar is instant, the pain blinding and white-hot. Blood runs down his face, and the smell of it that’s been teasing you all night, invites you to finally bare your fangs, ready to go for the killing bite.

But even with his right eye useless, Sukuna refuses to let go of his weapon, and when he catches the glint of your teeth, without thinking his blade is shoved into your mouth, pushing down on the hilt to plunge it upwards.

At the same time you reflexively bite down with all the strength left in your jaw — only to feel the sickening crack of bone breaking against steel.

It feels like you’ve bitten into broken glass.

With a strangled cry you shove him off, stumbling to your feet immediately as he gets to his knees, blood still gushing from his ruined eye, grabbing his weapon.

Your tongue flicks over the jagged remnants of your fang, that empty space where the tooth used to be, the iron of your own cold blood coating your mouth.

You limp back into the shadows as he staggers to his feet.

It’s only later when you’re sitting at the bar of a high-end nightclub, still absentmindedly running your tongue over the now healed stump of your left canine, you process that fight.

Born to an old, dwindling vampire bloodline, you were raised in secrecy, always moving place to place to avoid hunters. The traditional legends of aristocratic vampires always made you scoff — you and your family who had lived like ghosts, hiding in abandoned buildings, remote villages, or underground.

Despite it you were taught pride in your lineage — reminded that vampires are superior to humans, that they should never beg, never bow.

If a vampire “asks” something of a human, it’s not really a question.

Perhaps this was the reason you’d grown to have a taste for the luxuries of the modern age, hanging around neon lights and penthouses, carrying yourself with quiet arrogance. Though it’s an confidence born from survival, not entitlement.

You must believe you’re above humans, for your survival.

You’d heard of Sukuna before, known for years that he was supposedly your enemy by blood alone, but you hadn’t really given much more thought to it, especially not after your parents were murdered.

You were raised that in a world that wanted you dead, sentimentality was not an option — not even to mourn losses.

You were taught only to keep moving forward.

So that’s what you did when you found them with stakes driven through their hearts, limbs already turning to ash. Perhaps their deaths didn’t shatter you because they never let you believe they’d always be there in the first place.

Their battles didn’t particularly concern you, and you had better things to do than go on some drawn out hunt for revenge, and to avenge your family.

Well, that was before.

Because after that encounter, you decided nothing else mattered except Ryomen Sukuna.

A few months later, you feel more confident this time around that you’ll be able to kill him. And you don’t know for sure, but you have a strong feeling that he’s been tracking you as you roam city to city.

Sukuna’s learned a few things about you — that you enjoy cities, particularly those with good nightlife. Clearly a preference since your kind won’t necessarily burn in the sun, or anything as dramatic as the human stories always make it out to be.

Rather you all tend to be allergic to sunlight, some more than others. Your photosensitivity is noticeable, but not the worst — nothing more than some itchy hives and sneezing. Sometimes you get watery eyes and a runny nose too. It really just passes off as a normal pollen allergy.

On the other hand, you’ve picked up a few things about Sukuna as well — most notably so far that there are two things that matter to him above all: his ego and pride.

You suppose that conspicuous injury you gifted him might almost be as humiliating as your own chipped fang.

Almost.

Nothing can compare to the offense of breaking a vampire’s fangs. You’ve grown a habit of hiding them now even when around others like you, just so they won’t notice it.

And eye isn’t quite enough payment for that, you think.

So you arrange a trap, meticulously leaving a deliberate trail of blood and bodies to mark your presence, obvious enough for him to follow but still vague to the point that’ll keep him guessing. The trail leads to somewhere that’s sort of unusual for you — the countryside, far from the city, to a large sprawling mansion.

It’s a bit rundown, sort of the middle of nowhere, and likely abandoned some years ago.

Perfect.

You don’t have to wait long, only till the second night when he arrives.

The second round begins rather…slow.

Sukuna enters the mansion and though nothing has shifted out of place, he can feel it — your presence, permeating the atmosphere. You stand on the upper floor that overlooks the main entrance, watching him from the shadows.

It’s dark, even the moon is just a sliver of a crescent in the night sky, hardly enough to offer him any light.

You can see perfectly fine, though.

Sukuna can sense your gaze on him from somewhere in the pools of darkness, but he doesn’t react, preferring to let you guess whether he knows you’re here or not.

And you pick up what he’s trying but frankly you just can’t help yourself.

“Looking for someone?”

He doesn’t turn but you can see him smile in the dark, showing off those perfect set of teeth.

Annoying.

“Are you hiding from someone?”

You scoff.

Hiding. He’s trying to agitate you on purpose.

And it won’t work.

“Maybe I just like to play with my food.”

He hums. And then—

So quickly that you barely have time to dodge, something slices through the air.

The silver bullet buries into the drywall right where your head was a second ago.

Sukuna just laughs. “Oops. I guess I like to…play with my food, too.”

You’re honestly impressed by how good his aim is, even with his right eye socket scarred over.

But you’d never admit that, so you just chuckle lightly. “Well if you want me, you’re gonna have to work for it.”

And so it begins.

He hunts you through every hallway, every corridor, every shadow-drenched corner of the mansion. You circle one another—silent, stalking, both knowing one wrong step could mean the end.

You try to bait out another shot. A few, even.

Nothing.

Either he’s toying with you, or he’s saving them. Maybe both.

Frustrating.

And when long enough passes with no sound of his revolver, desperation creeps in.

So you take the risk. A deep inhale and a sharp turn—stepping fully into view, right across the hall from him.

Silence.

His hand rests on the trigger, steady, but he doesn’t pull it. Doesn’t even flinch.

You grit your teeth, muscles tensed, wondering if you can close the distance before he fires when suddenly, he smirks.

And lowers the fucking gun before rolling his eye.

The gall of this man.

“That’s the best you’ve got? Trying to jump scare me?”

You stare at him venomously, and though he can’t see it too well in the dark he can feel your disdain practically radiating from you.

“I could kill you right now before you could even do anything. But that feels kinda cheap, doesn’t it?”

“You’re welcome to try,” he says amicably. Then his eye glints, widening with a sudden thought, and he grins like he’s just remembered something delightful. “Oh- wait! I've got something to show you, almost forgot…”

He pulls out the silver chain tucked into his shirt, and at the end of it, something catches your eye.

White, and pointed…

Your fang.

You look up at him, momentarily speechless as his grin widens and he holds your tooth between his fingers like it’s some trinket. “Took it as a little souvenir to, you know…remember you.”

Needless to say, you are fucking livid.

“You disgusting bastard,” you hiss, synapses firing as rage floods them.

And just like that you’re across the hall in half a second, lunging towards him in your blind fury.

“You PIECE OF SHIT, I’LL RIP YOUR OTHER EYE OUT AND FUCKING EAT IT—”

You’re fast, and you’re strong. And Sukuna knows how to use this against you.

Instead of meeting you head on he pivots just in time, grabbing your wrist so that your own momentum sends you crashing into the dusty wooden floor. You’re back on your feet instantly, but then a flash of silver, and hot, searing pain in your side.

It spreads across your skin, numbing and tingling, and you start to feel sick.

Because of course a silver blade wasn’t enough, the bastard had to lace the tip with wolfsbane.

It’s not deep enough to kill, but definitely enough to slow you.

You snarl, still trying to throw him off, but Sukuna once again twists your momentum, forcing you into a corner.

This is bad. Now there’s nowhere to dodge, nowhere to effectively use your speed.

You lunge again, aiming for his throat this time, but either he’s faster than you expected, or the poison’s slowed you down.

There’s a crack and powerful kick sweeps your legs right out from under you, and just like that you’re on your back, his weight pinning you down, one hand wrapped around your throat.

Sukuna’s eye is burning with excitement, as he looks down at you triumphantly, panting slightly.

“That was fun. Wanna go again, or are you gonna pout now?”

You try to break free, but his other hand comes up — only now you realize it’s gloved. You don’t have time to think before he presses it to your jaw, holding you in place, and the pain flares from his touch.

Silver-lined gloves.

You hiss, though the poison is taking its toll on your body and your cold skin is now clammy, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

He laughs, leaning down slightly at your lips curled back in ferocity, eyes slitted as you try to jerk your face away from him in vain. His grip only tightens making your flesh burn, a pathetic cry clawing out of your throat.

“Careful, sweetheart.” The bare hand comes up to your lips as he holds your face in place, thumb brushing over it to pull your top lip back, inspecting your broken canine with interest. “You keep baring those pretty little fangs at me, and I might just have to take the other for my collection.”

You tremble with rage only contained in your flesh because of this incapacitating toxin invading your body. If not for that wolfbane—

“I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking murder you and you know what? I won’t even eat you, I’ll just leave your body to fucking rot in the dirt—” you sneer your promise, fingers twitching at your sides.

He looks down at you condescendingly, like you’re a petulant child throwing a tantrum that only entertains him. “That’s the look. Keep that anger — it looks real good on you.”

That’s the last thing you hear before another sting to your side of a syringe plunging into your skin, before you pass out.

When you come to a few hours later, cold, shivering, and throwing up — he’s nowhere to be seen.

The game stretches on over the next two years— you, with your chipped fang and him, with the scarred-over hollow where his right eye used to be.

Despite the damage, neither of you falters. If anything, the wounds only sharpen your instincts. Refine your roles.

The hunt evolves—more complex, more elusive… more intimate.

Along the way, more of your kind fall to him and Sukuna earns a name. Whispers trail in his wake, rumours thick and grotesque of one of the most brutal vampire hunters of the century.

A man who doesn’t just kill—but lingers.

Draws it out, torments.

Vampires captured and kept alive, tortured until boredom finally drives him to end it.

Every one one of them have been found with their left fangs broken off and missing.

And your resentment festers.

How ironic—his reputation, his rise, all built on traits borrowed from the very monsters he claims to despise.

Cunning. Patience. Sadism. A thirst for blood too, just not human blood. That, perhaps, is the only line he hasn't yet crossed.

You? You’re no innocent - far from it. But at least you never pretend to be anything other than what you are.

Your trail is just as red, just as damning.

But your victims? Almost always men.

From nameless beggars to powerful CEOs that send media and authorities into a frenzy— Their throats, torn open, their arteries drained.

And always—always—their right eyes, gouged out.

The floor is cold against your cheek—slick with dirt and blood. You're sprawled out, face-down, cheek mashed to the concrete beneath the unyielding press of his boot. Your wrists burn where the silver chain bites into them, pinned behind your back.

You should’ve known better - you did know better.

After years of sensing him at the edges of your life—always watching, always circling, he vanished.

No signs, no whispers, nothing.

The absence felt like a blade hollowing you out from within.

You told yourself someone else must’ve gotten to him. But of course, that wouldn’t do.

He was yours, yours to chase, yours to kill.

So you hunted him down this time, tracking him like prey.

This one’s on you.

You should have been suspicious when you found him waiting in a warehouse that looked eerily similar to the first one you ever fought in.

Except this one is brighter.

Bright fluorescent lights hum overhead, too white and clinical. Even with your eyes shut, the glare bleeds through your lids, stabbing at your pupils.

Every nerve in your body is lit up with pain, every inch of you aches and throbs.

“I’m starting to think you like being under me. Is that it?”

His taunting voice comes from somewhere above you.

“Just fucking kill me already, will you?” you grumble, words muffled against the ground.

“Hmm… I don’t know.”

The pressure of his boot lifts from your skull—only to be replaced by his knee, driven mercilessly into the small of your back.

You're pinned, caged.

“I kinda like seeing you like this,” he murmurs, voice dipping with lazy amusement. “Helpless. Right where I want you. So many things I could do with you…”

You can’t see him, but the smugness in his tone tells you everything. That fucking smirk is absolutely there.

Your laugh comes sharp and bitter. “God, you’re disgusting.”

“Oh, I must be,” he replies easily, “if even a bloodsucker’s saying it.”

You just scoff.

He leans in close, voice dropping to something low and velvety. “Can’t wait to spend some quality time with you…”

And then something hard cracks into your temple, with a sickening crunch followed by a split second of agony, before your vision tilts again and once more everything goes black.

You figure it’s been a few days at least, by the time you wake up. No human would survive the type of brain damage he no doubt inflicted on you when he literally split your skull open.

But you’re not a human, you’re a vampire — albeit something like that is still a serious enough injury that instead of seconds or minutes, it takes days for your body to repair the delicate tissues of your brain.

You’re still a bit dizzy and disoriented as you blink, clearing the fog from your mind while assessing your environment.

It’s a cellar or basement of some sort. A dim bulb flickers at the other end, on the verge of giving out.

The second thing you notice is something on your face — tight leather straps digging into your skin, a cage or barrier of some kind bound over your mouth.

The bastard fucking muzzled you.

Immediately you scream his name in rage — or at least you try to, though the metal cage distorts your sounds and all you produce is, “Hh-kuh-na!”

You try to move but your arms are still bound tightly behind you, aching from the position they’ve been kept in for so long, The cuffs are not silver, you note.

But the shackle around your ankle? That one is — and you quickly learn that when you try to unfold your legs, the metal digging into your skin and burning.

Soon enough you hear a door open and the sound of heavy footsteps.

“Finally awake? Thought I hit you too hard for a second.”

Your snarl of his name is once again muffled, but the scathing hatred in your eyes speaks volumes.

Sukuna steps in, closing the door behind him before crouching down with his hands on his knees, to be at your face level.

“Hmm, what was that?” he coos. “Try again. Really put your heart into it.”

You’re already feeling on edge, restless and tired at the same time, but then you smell it—

The sharp metallic scent of blood.

Just a little, but enough for your eyes to dilate and your body to scream at you, reminding you that you’re hungry.

Three days of intense healing, and no blood.

But you force yourself to sit still, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you struggle.

“When I get out here….” Your voice is hoarse, but venomous all the same. “I will kill you.”

“Hah,” he snorts. “Bold statement for someone who can’t even stand up.”

He crouches fully now, getting dangerously close. You jerk back instinctively but the sharp bite of the silver shackle digging into your ankle makes you grit your teeth in pain, reminding you why that’s a mistake.

Sukuna watches, single eye gleaming before he leans in further, fingers grazing along the leather strap securing the muscle.

“You look adorable like this.” He pauses, grinning when your eyes narrow further, smoldering with anger. “Almost tame.”

You catch another whiff of it — warm, rich, fresh — and your tongue coats itself in saliva. But you dig your nails into your palms, taking a breath, forcing yourself to stay grounded and shoot him a smirk, speaking slow and sharp.

“Take off this muzzle and you’ll see just how tame I am.”

He just chuckles and with that slight movement you catch the scent of his blood again.

Torture.

You can’t help your eyes from darting around, trying to see where the source is coming from. Sukuna catches your gaze drifting downwards, toward the wrist covered by his sleeve.

“Oh? You’re already looking? Thought you’d last a bit longer.”

And just to rub it in your fucking face he rolls his sleeve up, dangling his cut wrist right in front of your muzzled mouth. The blood drips slowly, deliberately trickling down.

Instinctively your head snaps up, fangs baring as you once again try in a futile effort the lunge forward, and rewarded with the same burning in your skin.

“Fuck. You.”

He leans in, voice dropping to a murmur as you intently track the blood droplets sliding down his skin. “You sure you don’t want any? You look a bit…hungry.”

Your lips widen into a cold sneer behind the metal cage. “I’d rather die of hunger than drink a drop of your filthy, vile blood.”

He stares at you for a moment, before calmly sighing and standing up to leave again. “Better get comfortable, then. This might take a while.”

And once again you’re left in the dark, with nothing but hunger gnawing at your insides.

The cruel irony of it all is that yes, you’d much rather die of hunger— but you can’t.

Instead you’ll starve, slowly desiccating till you’re barely conscious, but alive all the same. Forever in a perpetual state of never ending hunger.

There will be no death to release you.

Over the course of the next four days you feel yourself withering — hunger chewing and growling from within you, so cold that it feels like even your bones are chilly.

And tired. So, so tired.

You hear his footsteps from time to time outside the door, vaguely wondering if he’ll open the door. He never does.

By the time he comes back, your limbs are leaden, mind hazy. The hunger is no longer an ache, as it is a roaring void, tearing at you from inside.

You barely flinch when the door creaks open again, head lifting slightly towards the sound, though your body makes no effort to move.

“Still alive? Tough little thing, aren’t you?”

As if you could die even if you wanted to.

You don’t offer any response, not even able to muster enough energy to glare at him. He steps closer, slowly, like he’s approaching a carcass.

“Not much fight left in you now, huh?”

He crouches again, watching you with interest. You’re alive, but barely.

And finally you move — just a small twitch of your fingers, and a sharp inhale like you want to say something, but don’t have the energy to get the words out.

Sukuna doesn’t let up. “Go on. Curse me. Say you’ll kill me again. Give me something.”

Nothing. Even in your weakened state, you have enough pride to not give him that.

If a reaction is what he wants, it’s what he won’t get.

He clicks his tongue in annoyance before tilting his head. “No? Then how about I give you something instead?”

There’s a soft ripping noise, like a band-aid being torn off, when the scent hits you.

Blood.

Your body shudders involuntarily, once again you’re digging your nails into your palms until they’re sure to leave crescent-shaped indents.

And of course, he notices immediately, face lighting up with amusement. “…Oh?”

He holds his wrist up to you again like an offering.

“C’mon. You don’t need to act tough anymore — I know you’re starving.”

Your jaw clenches as you follow the slow trickle of blood, wishing desperately you had it in you to tear your eyes away from the sight. But you follow its unhurried path, entranced, mouth dry.

“Just a sip. All you have to do is say the word.” Sukuna’s voice is low, mocking, trying to worm its way into your skull.

Your breathing quickens. Would one sip really be that bad?…

“I’ll even take the muzzle off.”

That makes you move.

Your eyes flicker to his, sharpening with a spark of resistance despite everything. The spark only lights up further when you see how smug he looks.

“…Go fuck yourself.”

His grin widens, teeth flashing.

“There she is.”

And then, he fucking sits fully, leisurely stretching his legs like this is some pleasant, casual conversation. Like it’s a picnic date at the park or something.

Like he isn’t slowly destroying you from the inside out.

“You should be grateful, you know, that I’m even trying here.” Then he snickers meanly. “A lot of owners don’t bother to go to such lengths for their pets.”

If there was any blood left in your hollow veins, it would be sizzling right now.

You want to lunge at him, tear his throat out, watching him choke on his own blood before bleeding out in the most pathetic manner.

But you barely have the strength to lift your head.

Still, you strain out the words, barely a whisper.

“Don’t want your…filth…on my tongue.”

You feel it for a second, genuine anger sparking in him, before it quickly passes through and he stands up again.

“Fine. Be a stubborn bitch — we’ll see how long you last.”

He turns and walks away, casually calling out over his shoulder right before he shuts the door. “See you in another few days. If you’re still awake, that is.”

The door closes, darkness once again swallowing you whole.

It’s been nearly a full week now, when he comes back one more time.

You deteriorated even more within the span of those few days — body weak and brittle, like a dried leaf waiting to be stepped on. You think you’ve started to go mad because you swear you can smell blood, even when there’s nothing, no one else, in that cold, empty cellar.

Your pride has been warring with need for too long, and one side is losing, slowly but surely.

When the door opens again, you’re too far gone to react even the slightest. Not even a single twitch of your fingers.

Sukuna gives you a mocking sigh. “Damn. You’re really letting yourself go.”

He crouches down in front of you again, slowly, like you might to some injured animal bleeding out in the forest. “What happened to all that fire? All that lovely talk about killing me?”

You want to lift your head, shoot him a glare, spit some nasty words, but your body won’t obey.

The hunger is too much now, inside your bones where your marrow should be, clawing at the caving in walls of the hollow cavity that is supposed to be your stomach.

Sukuna watches closely for any sign of resistance, but there is none.

And then he speaks softly, like he’s indulging a kid. “How about I make this a bit easier for you, hm?”

There’s a cruel amusement under the gentle facade of his voice, lingering underneath like poison.

You barely register the movement — the soft tug of leather straps, and the metal cage loosening, falling away.

Your lips automatically part, but no sound comes out. There’s nothing left for you to say.

Then a quick flash of metal, and the scent invades your nostrils.

Hot, flowing, rich.

Sukuna holds his wrist out, the fresh cut welling with blood in slow, thick, droplets. The most alluring shade of red against his tan skin.

A violent shiver skitters down your spine, and you can feel your fangs involuntarily slipping out.

“Poor thing. You’re barely holding yourself together.” His voice drips in faux sympathy, as he watches you twitch.

His other hand moves, swiping into the cut before he swiftly lifts it to your face, pressing bloodied fingers to your lips and smearing it red.

Everything stops.

One drop, one single drop, makes its way through, onto your parched tongue, and its like fire in your veins.

Your body comes alive that moment, every nerve, every deadened muscle, every ounce of hunger roars awake, all at once, dilating your pupils till your eyes are just black voids.

Another shuddering breath, a twitching in your muscles.

“That’s it,” he whispers, watching, entirely too pleased at your reaction as his wrist hovers, just barely out of reach from your mouth.

Your body moves on it own, pure instinct, and no thought as you lunge forward with a low snarl, right fang sinking in, the broken one following soon enough as you close your mouth, latching on completely to his wrist.

And you drink.

Greedily, messily, obscenely sucking and slurping like a wild animal. The taste of his blood is intoxicating, flooding and reviving your starving flesh, pulling you out of that hollow abyss.

You hate yourself for it, but you can’t stop.

Sukuna watches, letting you feed, with a slow smirk.

“There we go. See? That wasn’t so hard.”

You want to rip yourself away, but his blood is too much, too necessary, too good.

No, not good.

You’ve drank hundreds of men’s blood before, but nothing compares to his.

What an evil, cruel twist of fate that his blood is divine — salty, sharp, with a savory mouthwatering fullness, and the slightest hint of sweetness to compliment it all.

Its like ambrosia.

Your grip tightens, as you practically moan in ecstasy, fangs sinking deeper into his warm flesh — you need more, you need—

Suddenly, he yanks his arm back.

You choke, barely stifling a whimper that almost slips out as the warmth is ripped away. Sukuna looks down at his wrist, amiably inspecting the puncture wounds, before glancing back at you.

Your lips are stained crimson, breathing ragged, eyes still looking at him with that almost desperate need.

And he laughs, victoriously. “That’s my girl.”

The taste him still lingers on your tastebuds, in the air — it’s not nearly enough to quell your appetite.

“Just a little more. Isn’t this what you wanted?” you try to convince him, attempting to hide the need in your voice.

You may be missing a fang but there’s still enough venom in one of your fangs to have at least somewhat of an effect — though you suppose that if he willingly let you drink, he must’ve already taken an antivenom.

Still, you try your luck.

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “You should have more shame, being so greedy. You’re lucky I even gave you this much.”

Sukuna stands to his full height again.

Panic rushes through you.

“Fuck, please Sukuna? I’ll give you whatever you want—”

He scoffs coldly. “And what could you possibly have to give me?”

You stare with wide eyes, unable to think of an answer immediately, and soon he’s leaving again, the sticky blood drying on your face.

The door slams closed.

This time, the hunger doesn’t dull away, neither does it weaken you. In fact you think it only grows stronger as the hours pass, keeping you awake and restless and craving.

For hours you sit in that dank cellar, your mind replaying the taste of his blood in your mouth until it becomes all you can think about, a tunnel vision of the only way out.

Giving you that taste was his mistake because now there’s a newfound strength forged from the motivation of sinking your teeth into him again.

Draining him for all he’s worth.

You tug against the metal keeping you captive — the cuffs around your wrists, the silver shackle around your ankle.

But you’ve got blood in you now, and that’s enough. Enough for you to heal.

With the phantom taste of him lingering in your mouth you finally push yourself — there’s sickening cracks of your joints dislocating, but even the blazing pain isn’t enough to deter you. It’s nothing compared to the satisfaction of your limp hands pulling out of the cuffs, one step closer to getting what’s yours.

Now, the hard part.

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking another deep breath as you position yourself. The silver cuff is still blistering hot against your skin, but you don’t hesitate.

Not now, not when you can practically taste him sweet and raw in your throat.

You twist. Hard.

The first crack isn’t enough — you grit your teeth, let out a strangled cry that echoes in the cellar, and then do it again.

The world goes white for a second, as you gasp, vision blurring from the sheer, excruciating pain — and still, you don’t stop.

Because now you’re not some starving creature crawling in the dark.

You’re a predator, one that he gave just enough of his blood to remember what that feels like.

Pop. The joint gives way.

You scream through gritted teeth, bile burning up the back of your throat, but you don’t stop. You slam your foot against the ground again, and again, twisting until the bones slide just enough — just enough for the slick burn of metal to scrape over torn skin.

And then you’re free.

You collapse against the floor, gasping, sweat-soaked and trembling, your limbs mangled but already knitting together, muscle by muscle, tendon by tendon, driven by that stolen taste of him inside you.

You stagger to your feet, every movement agonizing, shaky, but determined.

You can still feel him. His pulse. His scent. That infuriating grin of his when he left you here like some half-starved mongrel.

It’s insulting almost, that when you reach the cellar door, it’s unlocked.

But it makes your job easier, so you don’t complain.

You creak it open, and instantly the scent of his skin hits your nose though he’s nowhere in sight.

So you follow it, tunnel visioned on the prospect of finding him and just sinking your teeth into him.

Driven by vengeance, craving, maybe even some fucked up part of you that think his blood belongs to you now.

You can barely think straight by the time you’re pushing open his door, your mind tunneled in on one thing alone- the promise of his blood, hot and pulsing, spilling down your throat.

The embalmer’s job will be easier when they find his body — pale, empty, and drained dry.

You peek inside.

Warm light spills from the open bathroom door, casting a golden sheen across the contours of his bare back. He’s facing away from you, wearing nothing but low-slung black sweats that cling to his hips like a sin.

Droplets still bead along his skin, glinting on muscle, his pink hair darkened and slick from a recent shower.

If you weren’t so ravenous — if you saw anything other than a cure to the ache gnawing through your chest — you might’ve paused. Might’ve taken in the sight of him and thought, briefly, cruelly…

Beautiful.

But right now, nothing exists beyond the hypnotic thrum of his heartbeat, a slow and steady beacon that tugs you forward, that dares you closer.

You linger behind the door, silent, calculating. Waiting for him to move — to shift, to turn, to slip into just the right position.

One clean strike. That’s all you need.

No games. No snarling, clawing mess like the last time.

Just blood.

But then, there’s a subtle shift in the air, and the slightest stiffening of his spine.

Your stomach drops.

He shouldn’t know you’re here. It’s not possible — not for a human, not against your kind. You were made to hunt in silence, to kill before the prey ever knows what touched them.

Still, you don’t falter and he doesn’t turn.

And then—he moves. Slowly, casually.

He sits at the edge of the bed, back still to you, elbows resting on his thighs.

Exposed and vulnerable.

Perfect.

Just as you’re getting ready to pounce, Sukuna completely throws you off base—by pure, stupid luck.

He leans back onto one hand, legs spreading ever so slightly, just enough for the faint shape forming beneath his sweats to catch your eye. His other hand moves lower, casually palming himself through the fabric.

You should move. You know you should.

But something invisible roots you in place. Your hunger simmers beneath your skin, thrumming like static, but your bloodthirsty gaze is locked—utterly transfixed—on him. On the slow, almost lazy drag of his hand over the swelling bulge, coaxing it with idle strokes.

Your body betrays you.

There’s a strange heat building inside you, crawling up your spine, prickling across your skin. It shouldn’t be there. Not when you’re here to feed. Not when your only goal is to strike clean and fast and end this.

But it’s him.

Your breathing falters when his eyelids lower, chin tilting back just slightly as a quiet exhale leaves his parted lips. The light catches on the water still clinging to his shoulders, muscles shifting beneath his skin with every languid movement.

Through the fabric, the outline of his cock becomes more prominent. You can see the shape of it now, the thickness, even from where you stand.

Sukuna tightens his grip, and that’s when you catch it—the faint, almost acrid scent in the air. Slightly metallic. Slightly alkaline.

You suck in a silent breath, stomach flipping when you realize what you’re smelling.

Then he starts to rut slowly into his hand, sighing as the friction builds, and his voice cuts through the stillness, casual but low with strain.

“If you’re gonna do it, do it. Or are you too…” A cruel little grin curves his mouth. “Distracted, now?”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a response.

You’re on him in an instant—before the last syllable even finishes, slamming your full weight into him. The bed creaks under the force as you straddle him, one hand fisting into his damp hair, the other clawing his shoulder, nails digging in deep enough to make him hiss through his teeth.

“Don’t fuck with me, Sukuna,” you growl, pupils dilated, lips curled in a snarl. His heartbeat is a war drum beneath your hands, loud and intoxicating, and every one of your senses is alive with it—drunk on it.

His grin only sharpens.

“Then stop staring like you wanna fuck me and kill me, sweetheart. Pick one.”

To your irritation, you don’t even have to yank his head back—he tilts it on his own, baring his throat with an infuriatingly smug laugh. A mocking little motion, like he’s offering himself up on purpose.

“That’s more like it,” he murmurs.

And then your fangs sink in.

A soft, distinct crunch as teeth break through muscle and vein.

The instant his skin gives, blood rushes into your mouth—and it’s intoxicating. Thicker, hotter than anything else you’ve ever tasted. Rich and pulsing with life. Almost scalding.

The puncture wounds tighten slightly around your fangs, muscles resisting before stretching open, your jaw clenching as you bury deep—even your cracked fang pushing in with a sharp throb.

His blood is... pure. Potent.

Undiluted, unlike the thin, lifeless taste of most human blood. It tastes like something alive.

Like power, like violence.

The absence of that sharp medicinal tang—no trace of the antivenom you expected—flickers across your thoughts.

But the moment passes. Irrelevant.

Your body’s already screaming for more.

You drink greedily, copper heat washing down your throat, his pulse drumming against your lips. Your grip tightens.

Sukuna doesn’t flinch.

You suck harder, lips sealing tighter over the wound with a wet, obscene sound. Blood flows freely now. Your body trembles, senses blown wide open, muscles twitching as strength floods into you—but even as it does, something gnaws at you.

It still isn’t enough.

There’s a maddening itch, deep under your skin, pulsing low in your gut. A hunger that persists no matter how much you drink.

A raw, aching need that grows stronger, fiercer.

You notice everything.

His heartbeat skipping slightly under your mouth, the way your thighs grip his hips tighter, almost involuntarily. The rake of your nails down his back, searching for purchase, something to ground you.

You drink, and drink, and drink—and yet, the ache won’t go away.

Sukuna notices, of course. His eyes heavy-lidded, dark with knowing amusement, watching as you fall apart in real time, the tremble in your thighs, the desperation in the way you hold him.

He shifts beneath you—just slightly—but it’s enough. Enough for you to feel the hard outline of his arousal pressing right against your core.

And still—not enough.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Sukuna’s voice is low, almost gentle. But there’s that ever-present curl of amusement beneath it. “You’re still hungry.”

You growl against his neck, fangs still sunk deep, refusing to acknowledge whatever smug bullshit he’s whispering now.

His skin burns under your lips. His body is flush against yours, scent heavy in your nose with every inhale—clean, musky, tinged with something spicy and masculine.

It makes him taste even better somehow—complementing the copper tang in your mouth like wine pairing with a rich meal. You have to smell him to taste him fully.

The most disturbing part isn’t the blood. It’s that he’s letting you take it. Letting you drink him dry, take as much as you want.

And if your mind were clearer—sharper—you’d be suspicious. Hell, you’d be insulted.

You tremble.

Because despite the feast, despite the rush of strength, the power flooding your veins like molten heat—you’re still not satisfied.

The hunger claws deeper.

And the awful, rising truth starts to sink in, that maybe it’s not just his blood you crave.

Maybe you’re starving for something else entirely.

Sukuna’s hand moves—slowly, deliberately—dragging rough fingertips across your scalp. He threads them through your hair, the pressure grounding, possessive. His fingers massage along your roots, a slow, sensual gesture that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.

The other hand slides up your hip, ghosting along your side before settling at the small of your back, easing you down closer, pressing you into him—

That’s when it hits you.

You snap back, instinct lashing out. You tear your mouth away, blood slick on your lips, and shove at his chest hard enough to make him grunt as you push yourself back.

Your breath comes quick. Your head swims. Your mouth tastes like heat and iron and him.

The hand tangled in your hair slips away, settling instead at your waist—not stopping you, but not letting you go either. Possessive and anchoring.

His neck is still bleeding, slow trickles slipping down the curve of his throat, the skin around the puncture turning a deep shade of red-purple, bruised and tender.

You’re not sure what you feel.

Dazed. Disoriented. Blood-drunk.

Angry. Irritated. Frustrated.

Warm.

Too warm.

Sukuna grins up at you, lazy and smug, his eye catching the light just enough to glint with something unreadable.

“Ahh, there it is,” he hums, like he’s been waiting. “Now you get it.”

You fight the urge to recoil—to put space between your bodies—even as the haze lingers, even as your mind reels, trying to make sense of what the hell is happening to you.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” you breathe, your voice hoarse and thin, raw from drinking. Your lips are still slick with his blood. “I should kill you.”

And you mean it. You’ve done it before—taken blood from men, used sex like bait, like a weapon, left them cold and emptied by the time you were done. It never mattered, never lingered.

But this—this is something else entirely.

You try again to pull away, to snap the illusion, but this time his grip tightens. Not roughly, not harsh—but firm. Deliberate. He’s not fazed in the slightest by the open wound on his neck or the fresh blood on your mouth.

“Go ahead,” he murmurs, voice low, almost affectionate. “Then you’ll keep starving. Just like you are right now…”

His fingers drift lower, dragging over your waist, brushing the tops of your thighs. Teasing. Knowing.

Your head spins.

“Just shut up,” you snap, though the words come out thin, like you’re already losing ground.

You fed long enough that the venom should be kicking in by now. But it isn’t.

Maybe he’s built up a resistance—modified something in his blood. It wouldn’t be out of character for a hunter like him, someone who turns his own body into a weapon.

“Mm.” His fingers inch higher along your thigh, nails grazing over the fabric in a light, scraping touch that sends a sharp jolt through your nerves. “You don’t even know what you’re hungry for, do you?”

You grit your teeth, refusing to rise to the bait.

“It’s... not whatever the fuck you think it is,” you mutter, jaw tight. “You must’ve laced your blood or something—”

You’re trying to rationalize it. Trying to explain away the curl of heat low in your belly, the way your skin burns where he touches you.

His chuckle is low and cruel.

“Didn’t have to.” His voice dips to a taunt. “You gorged yourself on my blood after I left you starved for days—like a filthy, mindless little animal.”

His hand slides higher, creeping toward the center of you, and you shoot him a glare sharp enough to cut.

But you still don’t move.

“Tell me something I don’t kn—”

“Shut up.”

His voice slices through yours, dark and final. His grip tightens on your thigh—fingers digging into flesh—not playful anymore.

“If I wanted to hear you run your mouth, I’d fucking ask.”

Your lip twitches. Your eyes narrow into a venomous slit. But you don’t interrupt.

Not yet.

“That blood you drowned in?” he murmurs, tilting his head like he’s about to deliver a punchline. “It flooded your veins. Your muscles. Your heart…”

His smirk deepens, a slow cruel carving across his face.

“But when all your precious organs had their fill—guess where the rest ended up?”

“Right—” His hand fully cups your clothed sex now, before pressing into your clit with the tips of his fingers. “Here.”

You gasp at the sudden pressure against that sensitive bundle of nerves—electricity crackling up your spine.

All at once, you’re excruciatingly aware of every ache in your body, most of all the one blooming between your thighs—tight, pulsing, centered on that single point he’s still pressing down on with cruel precision.

“Pathetic,” he mutters, almost bored. “How long’s it been since you felt this? Since you actually needed?” His scoff is pure venom. “What, years? Bet your body just gave up going into heat altogether—until now.”

That’s what finally snaps the last thread of your restraint.

Your eyes darken, and a vicious smile cuts across your face like a blade. Bitterness burns like acid on your tongue, venom sharpening every syllable.

“Look at you,” you sneer, voice laced with poison. “You talk like I’m some starving beast—but what does that make you?”

Your tone drops, cruel now, twisted to mirror his own.

“A man so desperate for control he gets hard watching a half-dead monster squirm on his lap?”

You laugh—cold, guttural, mean.

“That’s pathetic.”

His expression shifts. Something twists behind his eyes. The lazy smirk vanishes, replaced by a deep crease between his brows—his crimson iris shrinking to a pinprick of rage.

You only lean in closer, fueled by the spark of danger.

“Tell me,” you whisper, voice thick with mockery, lips brushing his. “Did it make you feel powerful, starving me like that? Watching me suffer, weaken, beg?”

You grind your hips deliberately into his hand—now limp and fallen to your side—mocking him with your body, even as it betrays you with heat.

You tilt your head, lashes fluttering.

“Or did it just turn you the fuck on?”

His fingers twitch under your thigh.

“I think I hit a nerve.”

And then—just to twist the knife—you drop your voice to a whisper, every syllable soaked in contempt.

“…Maybe you wanted to see me like this. Needy. Weak. Because deep down, you know it’s the only time I’d ever want you—”

It happens fast.

Sukuna lunges.

But you’re already moving, twisting away—only for him to anticipate it, catching your wrist mid-swipe as you aim for his throat.

You snarl, feral, baring your fangs as you twist and struggle—but he’s stronger.

Of course he is. Vampire or not, you’re still a woman. And he’s a man carved from violence and dominance.

He wrenches your arm behind your back and yanks you in, spine arching painfully as he traps you against him. You snap toward his shoulder—teeth meeting only air as he shifts—and then—

His hand clamps the back of your neck, shoving you down hard into the mattress.

You buck, claw, writhe—but his weight pins you mercilessly.

“Fuck—get the hell off me!” you spit, claws tearing at the sheets.

But Sukuna only laughs. A low, rich sound that rumbles against your spine.

“Why?” he whispers, his breath ghosting hot along your ear. “Scared?”

You growl and slam your elbow back, desperate—

And then you feel it.

A sharp kiss at your throat—cold. Burning. Paralyzing.

Silver.

It must’ve been hidden beneath the bedding—because of course the bastard would sleep with a knife under his pillow.

Your breath catches as the blade’s tip glides across your skin in a slow, almost tender caress. Even that featherlight touch bites sharply against your hypersensitive nerves, lighting them up like fire.

Sukuna hums, clearly entertained. “Thought so.”

His grip in your hair tightens painfully, yanking your head back until your throat is exposed, vulnerable.

“You know what’s funny?” His voice is low, almost musing, edged with cruel amusement. “For all your mouth. All your fucking posturing—”

He presses the flat of the silver blade just beneath your jaw, and the threat of it steals the breath from your lungs.

“—you still end up right here.”

Your breath trembles, a furious mix of rage and something deeper, darker, coiling low in your stomach. Something instinctual and shamefully real.

The knife tilts ever so slightly—just enough for the point to kiss your skin, teasing the possibility of a cut.

You don’t dare move.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, satisfied. “Hold still.”

Your fingers twitch. You could fight—should fight. But the weight of him above you, the glint of silver at your throat... you’re pinned. And you both know it.

The edge of the blade shifts—and this time, it bites. A shallow line, but enough for crimson to bloom and trail slowly down your throat.

You grit your teeth, jaw locked tight, forcing yourself not to flinch.

But he feels it. The way your body tenses beneath him. And it thrills him.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

The blade drags lower, agonizingly slow, skimming the line of your throat, across your collarbone, down your sternum. It sings along your skin, a thread of fire in its wake.

“Nothing but a weak, pathetic, blood-drunk little leech.”

You snarl—but it sounds broken. Frayed and fragile.

Sukuna clicks his tongue, mockingly. “Still got fight in you?”

And then—without warning—he flips the blade, and drags the edge down your chest, slicing through both fabric and skin in one fluid stroke.

Down, down, down—until your shirt splits beneath the pressure. The cold rush of air hitting your exposed skin only amplifies the heat.

You suck in a breath, jaw clenched as the knife cuts a shallow path across your sternum, not deep, but just enough to sting.

“Fucking pervert,” you mutter hoarsely, your voice barely holding together.

He doesn’t reply.

He just keeps going—dragging the knife horizontally now, the blade peeling the torn fabric away from your chest, slow and deliberate. It climbs, tracing up the valley between your breasts like he’s unwrapping a present—leisurely, merciless, fascinated.

A searing line is traced up the swell of one of your tits, and you put all your focus into keeping your breath steady, because the slightest inhale only pushes the delicate mound of fat further against the burning blade.

You stiffen completely when the tattered top is pulled away completely, air brushing against your nipple.

Sukuna watches it harden further with fascination, a cruel smirk curling his lips. “Oh?”

Because he notices everything, to your humiliation. You shiver, despising how your body reacts despite everything.

Hate how much he enjoys it.

“You like this, don’t you?” His tone is taunting, disgusted, but there’s a cruel entertainment beneath it.

You can’t say anything, much more focused on the sharp silver that’s much too close to your areola for comfort. Then with the slightest shift of his wrist the blade moves, the tip of it scraping against the sensitive bud.

You inhale sharply, body reflexively jerking against him as the prickling lances through your chest.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” he chides, circling the blade delicately around your breast before continuing downwards.

“Go to hell,” you spit, voice thick with both vitriol and bitter lust.

The knife descends, running over the curve of your ribs, the delicate dip of your stomach, leaving a trail of burning goosebumps in its wake.

“I’d drag you down with me.”

Another shudder as the blade presses lower, a lump forming in your throat. Another jolt of pain and there’s a shallow cut right below your navel.

Blood wells, reminding you of his control.

His free hand slides up your thigh, just enough to make you hyper-aware of how helpless you are.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you whisper, trying not to audibly pant.

Sukuna just chuckles, running the flat of the blade over the cut, smearing your own blood across your skin.

He watches as you try to shrink away, eyes glinting, before his grip tightens, forcing your hips to still.

“Say it.” His voice is quieter now, something that frays your nerves further.

Your heart pounds. “Say what?”

The blade presses lower, and you feel cold fear beginning to surge through your veins.

“Say you need me.” His nose is in hollow beneath your jaw now, brushing against the skin, as the words crawl down your spine like icy.

“Say you want me.” The tip of the blade drags lower, slipping just beneath the hem of your waistband—dangerously close to something far more intimate.

“Or I’ll carve the truth out of you myself.”

And though you throb between your thighs, your mind is wracked with a new wave of anxiety.

Yet still your pride, your stubborn ego refuses to force the words out of your mouth, so you keep silent, choking on them.

Sukuna just sighs and pushes the metal into your panties.

All thoughts of defiance are exorcised from you as the silver brushes against the vulnerable, soft flesh of your folds, down till it nearly touches your clit.

You yelp at the pain. “S-Stop!”

Partially because it fucking stings, but partially because for a second that jolt of burning heat almost felt…good.

Curse your pathetic, needy cunt that can’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure.

And it only reminds you of the hollow, aching hunger that grows in you. Sukuna, watching you so closely, knows it too.

You break.

“…I need you,” you breathe.

The bastard presses the blade against your sex again and you wince, desperately trying to jerk your hips away. “Louder.”

So finally, you spit through clenched teeth, “I need you.”

The moment the words leave your lips — strained, humiliated, dragged from the deepest part of your throat — Sukuna stills.

Then he laughs, finally pulling the blade back out from your thighs, giving your body a second to relax. Still the sting of silver, the heat of your blood — it lingers.

And the worst part, is that you feel colder without it. You can’t ignore the arousal that’s pooled in your panties, so much so that it feels uncomfortable.

“That’s what I thought.” His voice drips with smug victory. “All that fight, all that snarling, all those ugly words — and look at you now.” The blade presses under your chin, forcing your head to tilt up and look directly into his face. “Whimpering out the truth like a good little leech.”

You want to say something , anything, but the opportunity is stolen from you when you feel his other hand, fingers dragging through the blood seeping from the wound below your navel. The pressure is deliberate, just enough to make it hurt, to remind you of what he’s done to you.

“You’re making such a mess,” he muses, voiced soaked in condescension. “Bleeding all over yourself. Over me.” His fingers travel lower, slow and purposeful as they slide into your panties, where the heat is unbearable. “Dumb little thing.”

He smears it on your clit, using the tacky liquid as lube to rub tight aggressive circles on the swollen nub.

You gasp, lips falling open as the relief lights you up from inside. His other hand keeps the blade pressed under your chin, forcing you to meet his eye so he can watch as you try to keep your own gaze focused.

“You’re lucky I’m merciful,” he purrs, before taking two fingers and abruptly pinching your abused clit to elicit a wince from you. “Go on, leech. Say thank you.”

“…Thank you,” you say quietly, nothing on your mind except his touch where you’ve been needing it most.

He smiles, and then without warning, the sensations stop as he pulls his fingers away.

His weight disappears, leaving an unbearable cold where his warmth once was, in more places than one.

“Now get the fuck off my bed.”

You watch him, blinking in confusion, brows furrowing as desperation clouds your judgement. “Wh-Why? You can’t—”

“Dirty leeches get to stay on the ground where they belong,” he says coldly, clearly trying to suppress a grin.

You stare at him, body thrumming with unfulfilled need, like a wound he only ripped open even wider. Your fingers dig into the sheet, pride once against warring against pulsing ache between your thighs, cool skin burning with need and making your head spin.

You feel like you have a fever.

God, what the hell did his blood do to you?

“…You’re fucking joking.” Your voice wavers, but it’s not weakness — it’s rage. Humiliation.

Sukuna only tilts his head, regarding you like a roach he’s already crushed beneath his heel but is still alive for some reason.

“You think I’d let you defile my bed? After you whined like a bitch in heat just for me to touch you?” he scoffs. “Have some dignity, leech.”

Your breath turns sharp. Hot. Your body betrays you, trembling ever so slightly. The shame burns worse than silver, spreading all over you.

“You’re fucking sick.”

“And you love it.”

You hate that he’s right.

You grit your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response as you force yourself to move, dragging your shaky limbs off the bed, only to collapse onto the cold, hard floor.

You hear his quiet chuckle before he walks to the edge of the bed, sitting back down beside where you’re on the ground.

Then—

“But I’m not evil. It’s clear you can’t even think straight with the condition you’re in.” He leans down, cupping your chin to look into your glaring eyes, swimming with desire. “Though I can’t help you if you keep your pants on, can I?”

You frown a bit, not the slightest clue where this is going, but the gentleness in his touch and the promise of his words coaxes your heat-addled brain to tug at the waist of your pants, pulling them off to leave you in just your panties.

You look back up at him expectantly.

“Good girl,” he says almost affectionately, and you feel yourself wetten further in anticipation. “But, a leech like you doesn’t deserve my fingers, let alone my cock or tongue.”

Just like that your heart sinks in your chest, into the pit in your stomach as something wicked creeps across his features.

“You’re worth nothing more than my—” His bare foot shifts between your legs, tattooed ankle lifting up between your thighs, applying pressure there. “Feet.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks heating up till it almost hurts as you open your mouth to protest, save yourself the last bit of your dignity.

“N-No.” Your voice shakes just a little despite your efforts, mouth pulling into a pout as tears sting your lash line.

Sukuna hums, a condescending little sound that makes your skin crawl with equal parts shame and heat. His foot presses in just a little more, sending a pulse of sensation through your body that makes you shudder violently.

“No?” he mocks, tilting his head. “Oh, but look at you, leech. Dripping—” he shifts slightly, grinding against the soaked fabric of your underwear, and you choke on a breath, “—like the desperate little parasite you are.”

You look down, suddenly noting that he strangely…actually has nice feet. Long, prominent bones, veins running their length. They’re a lot like his hands.

And somehow the fact that you can actually see the appeal only sickens you more.

You shake your head, trying to summon what’s left of your pride, but the second you do, his foot pushes, forcing a gasp from your lips.

His grin sharpens. “You can’t even pretend to hate it.”

You squeeze your thighs together instinctively, but the movement only traps him there, pressing deeper against you. Your breath stutters, shame and pleasure warring violently inside you.

Then he laughs, shaking his head like he’s watching something pathetic try and fail to crawl away.

“Go on then,” he taunts. “Show me just how low you’ll go. If you want it so bad, you can grind against my foot like the filthy little leech you are.”

Your heart slams against your ribs. “I—I won’t—”

He lifts it away just slightly, just enough to take away the friction, the heat, the pleasure that had you teetering on the edge. The loss is unbearable, your body screaming in protest.

And he sees it. He knows.

His smirk is pure, unfiltered cruelty.

“Oh?” he coos, feigning innocence. “Then I guess you don’t need my help after all.”

He moves to pull away entirely—

And before you can stop yourself, your hips jerk forward, chasing the friction, the pleasure, the relief—

He catches it instantly.

He freezes, pressing back in an instant, and your stomach drops as you realize what you’ve done.

His smirk turns razor-sharp, eyes gleaming with victory.

“That’s what I thought.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, resting your forehead on his knee, chewing on your lip.

You want this. You know it, and he knows it.

So with a shaky breath you lift yourself to quickly slide off your panties, kicking them to the side. “You’re disgusting,” you mutter, a half-hearted attempt to somehow deflect the degrading nature of what you’re willingly choosing to do right now.

He hums, looking down at you over the bridge of his nose with that unbearable smirk as you straddle his foot again. “Hm. Do tell me more.”

You can’t stand looking at his face right now, so you turn your head, leaning your cheek against his sturdy leg instead as you push your hips down, pressing your soaking cunt onto his foot.

It feels horribly good, and slowly you begin to undulate your hips back and forth, seeking the friction of the ridged metatarsals and tendons on his foot catching against your clit.

Back and forth, back and forth.

Sukuna snickers, watching you with interest, at the soft gasps falling from your lips. “If only your ancestors could see you now. How far your bloodline has fallen.”

You scowl a bit, speeding up your movements so that the pleasure can drown out his words and the soft clicking noises of your pussy. “Just….s-stop talking. Please.”

“Why? It was a compliment.” Sukuna lifts his leg again, angling his foot a little to move it in time with your grinding, pulling a soft moan from you. “I, for one, think you look good like this. Like you’re finally where you belong, y’know?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to ignore him as you lean back on your hands, this new angle making it easier for you to rub your clit against him.

For a few seconds he doesn’t say anything either, even as your movements start growing more frantic. You open your eyes to look at him, just to find his eyes trained squarely on where your sticky cunt is sliding obscenely along his foot, his skin glistening with your arousal.

And it’s the fact that he looks painfully aroused himself, that he’s not quite as unaffected as he’s been pretending to be…

The sight makes you cum abruptly with a choked cry, hips thrusting faster and faster as your orgasm shoots up through your spine, the wet sounds growing noisier, as your pussy twitches and leaks an embarrassing amount of slick.

Your movements slow, as your orgasm finishes, leaving you to close your eyes again and catch your breath. Sukuna removes his foot, looking looking down at you and the juices that coat it.

“Eugh. God look what a mess you made.” Then he smirks deviously, gaze shifting to your mortified form, still reeling from your orgasm as you sit back. “I should make you clean your filth with your tongue.”

Your eyes widen to shoot him a look, already shaking your head when he laughs.

“Don’t worry. You should be grateful I’m not that sick.”

You don’t reply, just looking at him quietly, growing more and more aware by the second that your clitoral orgasm provided temporary reprieve just to heighten that horrible ache inside of you. Yet before you can even open your mouth to voice your concerns, he’s standing up.

“Where…are you going? That’s it??”

Sukuna stops in the doorway, shoulders loose, head tilted, and for a second—just a second—you think he might change his mind. Might turn around and give you something.

But then he snorts, sharp and derisive, slicing straight through your chest.

“Jesus,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Listen to yourself.”

He glances over his shoulder, and the look in his eyes is nasty—not the usual smug amusement, not even condescension. Just pure, unfiltered disgust.

“You’re still fucking dripping, aren’t you?” His lips curl in a sneer. “I already fed you, you don’t expect me to fuck you too, do you?” He laughs, slow and cruel. “God, you really have no fucking shame.”

Your face burns, humiliation crashing into you, but you refuse to let it show. You square your shoulders, jaw tightening. “You’re the one who—”

“You what? Made you?” His grin widens, something wicked in it. “Oh, come on, leech. Don’t be fucking pathetic. You were already soaking before I even touched you. You should be grateful I even let you rub yourself off on me like a stupid little parasite.”

He laughs again, shaking his head. His tone turns mocking, singsong. “Poor thing, all hot and needy, and still so fucking empty.”

Your nails dig into your palms. You hate him. You hate how much you want to hurt him. How much you want him to hurt you.

But most of all, you hate how easily he thinks he can win.

So you lift your head, tongue curling around something venomous. “Guess that makes two of us, huh?” you sneer.

Sukuna’s expression flickers—just a flicker—but you catch it. And it feeds you.

You hum, tilting your head, letting your gaze drop deliberately down his body before dragging it back up, slow, like you’re assessing him. “Or what, was that little act supposed to convince me you don’t want it just as bad?” You scoff, eyes glinting with something sharp and mean. “Please. You’re the one who gets hard over starving me out.”

His jaw tightens. Just a twitch. A flex of muscle. But you know him well enough to see it for what it is—annoyance.

Good.

“You act like you’re above it,” you murmur, voice like silk laced with barbed wire. “Like you don’t need it.” You shift, slowly stretching out your legs, like you aren’t still burning between them. “But I felt you, Sukuna.” Your voice dips, taunting. “I smelled you.”

His fingers twitch at his sides. You watch it, the way they flex—like he’s already imagining wrapping them around your throat.

But you’re not done.

“You like this just as much as I do.” Your smile sharpens. “No—probably more.”

A slow blink, a long inhale and then Sukuna’s lips curl again, his expression smoothing into something infuriatingly condescending.

“That’s cute,” he drawls. “Really. But let’s get one thing fucking straight—”

He moves before you can react, crouching down in front of you, one strong hand gripping your jaw. Hard. Forcing you to look at him.

“I could ruin you.” His voice is low, deadly. “Make you beg until your fucking throat is raw. And I still wouldn’t let you have it.”

His thumb brushes your bottom lip, a mockery of something tender.

“Because you don’t deserve it.”

Then, just as quickly, he shoves your face to the side.

“Oh, and—” He swipes his fingers through the mess between your thighs, then flicks it at you with a lazy smirk. “Clean yourself up,” he mutters, before sticking his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean of your arousal.

You don’t flinch, don’t let him see the way your breath shudders.

You just lift your chin, eyes locked onto his, and smile sweetly.

“Don’t forget to clean yourself up too,” you purr. “Can’t have you walking around smelling like me.”

He snarls—a real, actual snarl—but you only grin wider.

And then, with a final glare, he turns, disappearing into the bathroom.

Leaving you alone and aching.

^divider by kazicide

[burekforsatoru]

fire up the night

sebastian (stardew valley)/f! reader | read it on ao3 sebastian just wants to go home… that is until you catch him by the door of the club, offering him something he can't refuse | inspired by the song fire up the night by new medicine wc: 5.2k tags: smut, spit play, piv sex, multiple orgasms masterlist

sebastian hates absolutely everything about this night.

the music is too loud and the dj keeps skipping to another song without properly mixing. sam, next to him, is having the absolute time of his life, headbanging to every single song, no matter how short, no matter how badly blended, if at all, into the next, no matter how many people bump into him and spill their drink over his shoes. sebastian's feet are sticking to the floor of the club, squelching as he tries to lift them, if anything just to keep moving them and not feel like he's stuck in quicksand.

looking over most people's heads, a perk of being slightly taller than average, he can see there's barely any space in the room, so many heads of different colors moving simultaneously, some pressed together, making out in the middle of the floor. he rolls his eyes, lighting another cigarette, continuing his coping habit of chain-smoking to feel something, to not feel awkward about his hands, to have a purpose, when a figure knocks into him. he's ready to shoot his meanest, most venomous glare their way, but the genuine smile, the apologetic eyes, and the hands that hold onto his elbow for balance catch him off guard.

"shit— i'm so sorry," you say, "fucking glass…" as you look down to where you tripped over someone's disgustingly discarded glass bottle clinking along the floor, he takes the moment to glance at your body, already unable to help but imagine what it would look like squished under him.

very quickly, he feels the back of his neck heating up as you remember to let go of his elbow, but not before he manages to drop the cigarette that dangled precariously from his parted lips.

"ah, fuck." sebastian looks away in embarrassment, stepping with the sticky sole of his shoe on the cigarette rolling across the floor before quickly taking out another, lighting it immediately in an attempt to get his hands busy and not think about what it would feel like if he could touch you.

"i— sorry about that as well…" you chuckle and with a look up at his flustered face, you turn and let yourself be led away by a friend making their way to the toilets.

a while later, sam is belting out the wrong lyrics to whatever stupid song is playing at the moment when sebastian realizes he's had enough. he's spent the past… however long, more than he would care to admit, thinking about the way your fingers held onto him like he was the only solid thing in the world. looking down, he notices there's enough put out cigarette butts on the sticky floor to make even him feel embarrassed, so he pulls on the sleeve of sam's jean jacket to get his attention. the blond doesn't seem too pleased to be pulled out of his zone, out of the vibe that's making his body move in such a natural, easy way, that sebastian feels almost jealous of his friend. he wishes, not for the first time, that he was able to relax around so many people the way his best friend does. he would love to actually enjoy these nights out, and not just for the first hour when the band they initially came to see is playing, but the ridiculous music afterwards, the filled up club, the push and pull of the crowd. he wishes he could stomach the alcohol, have something other than his cigarettes to help him let go and feel alive.

with a quick motion of his head, he nods toward the exit door, making sam's grin drop a little. he checks the time, quarter past two, and sighs. at least it's not only midnight like the last time sebastian asked to leave the club. that time, there was hardly any point in going if it was only for two hours for the concert. but sam always indulged him, always gave in, and not just because sebastian was his ride home. despite not being a fan of leaving so early, he understands the need for his friend to be away from people, so he doesn't argue, he tries not to show the wish that if only they could stay for a little while longer… maybe sebastian would be able to let go a little more.

they reach the exit, already feeling the breeze from the outside sneaking in through the door propped open by an empty beer bottle, when he hears someone calling out.

"hey bangs!" instinctively, he turns. stupid, he chastises himself, why would you turn to that stupid nickname? his dismay is quickly replaced with a confused, but excited curiosity. you push through the crowd to get to him, making his face redden for no reason. he can't stop his mind racing, his body reacting against his wishes. it's so stupid.

"bangs?" he repeats, cracking a cocky smile despite the way his brain is screeching at him. suddenly, there's nothing else around him but you and your amused smile, a self-satisfied little curve that proves your intention was to stop him in his tracks. well, congratulations, you did it.

"what is it, then?" you hold onto the wall for a moment, balancing yourself to lift your foot and pull out a piece of broken glass from the sole of your shoe. the casual way in which you manage to return to the conversation, or whatever has been happening between you, has him nearly stuttering. his focus is narrowed, and it ends with you, suddenly, he doesn't feel the weight of the mass of people surrounding him.

"is this how you planned on asking me for my name?" he pushes his hands into his jean pockets, feigning casualness when in fact his heart is doing somersaults and his mind is already starting to spiral, imagining how easy it would be to just push you to the wall behind you and kiss you until you give up your fearless front and admit you're desperate… because why else would you chase him down just to ask for his name?

"not smooth enough for your tastes, is it, bangs?" you joke, taking the step that's been separating you until now. he bends his head down slightly, smelling cigarette smoke and traces of perfume on your hair. you're bold, he notices, from the way you tug on his sleeve until he's bending down to allow you access to his ear. you cup your hand around it, making sure he can hear your next words.

"maybe i just wanna know what i'll be screaming later…" your cheekiness makes his breath hitch, his cheeks heat up, his heart hammer… there's no way he just heard what he thinks he did, right?

"you're bold, i'll give you that," he replies, not lifting his head, "so which version of sebastian do you think you'll be crying out?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

there's a sneaky little smile that creeps up onto your face as he plays along, so with one fluid movement, he steps forward, making you back up until your back meets the wall. the kiss is so sudden, you have no time to do anything other than reach up and tangle your hands into his hair. sebastian's lips seek out more of you, grabbing kiss after kiss while his hands grab for your hips, angling you so he can press his body against yours, caging you in because this is what you wanted, right? you wanted his attention, wanted to be a cheeky little brat that chased him down just as he was about to leave to put ideas into his head. and so he's playing along. he's indulging you, because it feels like he's coming back to life after being dormant for yoba knows how long. it feels like his stomach is burning with desire and life is blooming in his soul.

he doesn't even turn to look at sam as you push him away just to grab his hand and pull him through the main door, shivering with the sudden drop in temperature as the night air whips around you. the last thing he hears before the door shuts after him is sam shouting get it, seb, which would make him cringe if he wasn't currently on the way to your place, running hand in hand so fast that your feet barely touch the ground.

it's almost deadly, the way this anticipation makes him feel alive. he knows absolutely nothing about you, other than your name, that you're bold even when sober, and that he wants, more than anything he can imagine, to feel you shudder under his palms as he fucks you until you're nothing but a puddle of pleas and screams. he really wants to hear it, your soft lips letting out a scream that can only sound like his name.

quickly enough, before he can fully lose his mind, you pull him up across the porch and through the front door, nearly smashing it open with the desperation in both of you. his lips are on yours again, devouring every huff and breath he can, eating them up like he can't take a breath if it's not from your mouth. there are little moans already leaving you as his quick fingers start unzipping your jeans, tugging them down so violently that he's surprised they aren't ripping as he pulls them off your legs. clumsily, you step out of them, completely blindly trying to feel along the walls, trying to make sure you're going in the direction of the bedroom, but sebastian reaches down to grab the underside of your thighs and picks you up with little effort. your yelp dies in his mouth, in a fierce kiss with your tongues gliding together, warm breaths exchanging places.

he moves back, pressing you against the front door that slammed shut not even a full minute earlier. the wood creaks slightly as your back collides with it, but in the heat rising between you, the touches get grabbier, the kisses get shorter and interrupted by quick breaths as you try to undress.

your fingers tug on his hoodie, lifting the hem up and over his head before it lands somewhere on the floor, it doesn't fucking matter where. his hands dig into your bare thighs, just taking the time, while you rush his zipper, to feel your skin under his palms. it's what he's imagined from the very second you held onto him for balance, looking up at him with those eyes that he simply cannot wait to see as they roll back into your skull when he finally feels your cunt squeeze him tightly.

you groan once his jeans and boxers are falling down, helped by one of his hands that he reluctantly removes from the plush skin of your thigh that fits so perfectly against his palm. he steps out of them, now perfectly positioned to grind his hard cock against the thin fabric of your panties already getting wet with arousal. he pulls them aside, his brain fizzling out with just a glance at your slick, puffy folds right there, so ready, so fucking gorgeous.

"come on then," he drawls, lowering his head to bite your jaw, grazing it with his teeth as he makes his way down to your neck, "you were gonna say my name, yeah?"

"oh, but you gotta earn that, bangs." you grin, flashing your teeth at the ceiling as your head leans back in the pleasure of having your neck kissed so sloppily.

his lips pull into a smirk against your neck and he trails them back to your lips, catching them into another searing kiss, feeling like you've done this a million times before, far from the reality in which you only kissed not even an hour ago.

"oh I think I'm earnin' it, actually…" he chuckles against your skin, licking a stripe on your neck before attaching his lips and sucking a bruise into it. "…mmm I think I am, you're soaking wet already. now whom might that be for, hm?"

"don't get too big headed, bangs, you haven't even fu— ohhhh—"

your snarky little comment is promptly cut off by a squelching noise of your sopping pussy sucking in his cock. if he wasn't so twitchy from the first contact with your squeezing cunt, he would keep the snarky comments going, but it's heaven pressed against the heavy wooden door. he can't look away from how your chest rises rapidly, are you seriously struggling?

he pulls his hips back and pushes in again, feeling your velvety insides tighten around his cock as he starts off slowly, giving himself time as he lowers one hand to tug off your shirt. it's offending his eyes, covering up your perfect tits from his view. with a quiet plop, it lands somewhere on the floor, maybe joining your jeans, maybe disappearing into the void, who gives a shit… the only thing that matters is the warmth your sweet, needy little cunt provides as sebastian pushes harder into you, pressing his large palms on the flat of the door, caging you in as he starts ruthlessly fucking you while your legs tighten their hold on his waist.

your eyes shut tightly, teeth tug on the bottom lip desperately as he presses your back against the door. the sweet, honeyed moans that squeeze through your teeth are almost immediately swallowed by his heavy grunts, the sweaty skin sliding, body against body, hips slamming against hips in a mess of desire and sheer greed.

sebastian's grunts nearly have you contracting around him already, the animalistic need with which his cock hits your sweetest spots twists your insides, makes you claw at his back with the intensity never felt before. and he can feel it, he can tell you're struggling to keep the sugary whines inside your throat, so he attaches his lips to it, messily nipping at your skin.

reddened bruises bloom in the wake of his lips, creating a pattern of your fiery need, a reminder that will be with you for days, he can only imagine. his fist bangs on the door, veins popping along that pale forearm as his other hand lowers to grip your hip hard, fingertips digging into your soft skin as if there will never be a point where you're close enough to him. he tries to pull you against him harder, rougher, faster as he groans into your neck, hearing you finally release that lip from your teeth and cry out for him.

what a melody, what a noise that rips through his entire body, from the top of his head down to his toes, making his cock twitch inside you, so bravely continuing his punishing pace while you tighten around him and cum in an electric shudder that shakes his palm gripping your leg.

"se— oh fuck— fuckfuckfuuuck seb— ahhh" you groan, rolling those eyes into the back of your skull, seeing stars inside of your own head explode with the intensity of your orgasm.

"mhm… there it is," his cocky voice vibrates against your neck as he licks over the latest bruise he leaves there, "it's just seb, huh? don't have any more syllables in you?"

he knows you'd wipe that cheeky smirk off his face if only you had more control of your own body, but the puddle he's reducing you to is just as pliant and willing as he's hoped. he just knows you'd give him a hard time, and he would love it so fucking much, sebastian wants to know how you'd make him chase after you, grovel at your feet, make him roll over like a good puppy… but at this crucial point the only thing he's able to do is keep pushing his cock deep inside you, lead you to another orgasm, maybe another two, until he can't feel his legs anymore and has to be removed from your warm cunt.

in response to his teasing, you're groaning in exasperation, but still gasping for air. holding onto his back, your nails dig into his skin leaving crescent moon indents as he hikes you up higher against the door, but your legs aren't strong enough to keep yourself up clinging to his hips anymore. noticing you slipping, sebastian pulls you away from the door and turns, getting on his knees while keeping his palms firmly against your ass. slowly, not pulling out because it would be a crime, he lays you down on the floor, too eager to give a shit about comfort, the only thing on his spiraling mind is finding a way to keep thrusting into your weeping cunt, keep it fluttering around his cock, quickly getting addicted to your grip on his back.

within seconds, he's rolling his hips into you again, pinning you to the floor in desperation as your electric moans and whines fuel him further. he's getting cocky, despite the way his eyes close in pleasure, unable to keep those heavy lashes open. and it's certainly not helping him how your thighs press against his sides, keeping him sandwiched between them as he's been imagining himself from the moment you bumped into him at the club. his pelvis meets yours repeatedly, followed by the lewd noises of your cunt sucking him in, so wet, dripping, slippery as he glides in and hits your perfect spot, the one that has you curling your toes and whimpering his name in a hundred different ways.

by now, it's the only word that matters, the only one he wants you to know, the only word that should spin in your mind as he gives you exactly what you need. sebastian and—

"more— mmmph more, please!" you cry out, lifting your tear-stuck eyelashes to see his parted lips spreading into a grin, making his grunts and moans louder as he looks down at the state of you on the floor, pinned down by his nimble hand.

"oh yeah?" he leans in to steal a wet kiss from your bitten lips, "beg for it…"

groaning straight into his mouth, just before you throw your head back to meet his palm that shields it from hitting the floor, you curse, slipping in a few choice words with his name as he slows down his thrusts. brutally so, since you're already clenching around him again, on the precipice of another orgasm, and he feels it. it's the pitch of your voice in his ear, it's the way your thighs try to close against his sides, it's the sinful wetness of your pussy that just can't keep quiet with his thick cock diving back inside for more. but he's so mean, rolling those hips slower and slower until you do what he wants, until you're clawing at his back, trying to grip him harder to move him yourself. until you're lifting your hips to meet his thrusts, until you're crying real tears for him, in such a state of despair that his ego rises almost before your very eyes, no matter how barely open and tear-filled they are.

"n-no come on, jus'…" you barely start stuttering those precious words, trying to get out of begging, when his hand lands a smack against the side of your ass, stinging the flesh before he does it again.

"good girls do what they're asked, especially if they wanna cum again." those words are cold, but his breath on your lips is hot. sebastian hovers his mouth just out of reach for you, a branch bearing the juiciest fruit just high enough so you can't grab it and smear it over your lips. the tantalizing distance, so close but so far away, enough to feel and taste his breath, not enough to drink in the moans gathering on his tongue. "you do wanna cum again, don't you, pretty?"

he sees the attempt of defiance in your face, going through a loop of trying to bite back your words, bite back the chuckle that dies in your throat, never managing to quite get past the back of your mouth, but what does make it out is a loud, needy whine that almost makes him completely buckle under the weight of your desperation. it makes him slam his hips against yours a little harder, digging the head of his cock once again into you right where it presses into your soft spot.

"shit, don't do that…" he moans out, feeling you clench around him again, feeling the slower pace just as good once you can get used to it. rolling his hips into you a little harder, he leans down and gives you the kiss you've been reaching for, messy, wet, leaving you even more breathless than before, but as he pulls back, a glob of saliva lands into your mouth from his tongue.

seeing you swallow it so readily is like a punch to the gut, it kicks the air from his lungs and he stutters in his movements. oh, he wasn't expecting you to be so filthy, but now that your mouth is open again, tongue only slightly poking past your teeth, he feels his skin getting warmer again.

"oh, you dirty fucking thing…" sebastian lowers his head again, sticking his tongue out to watch a string of saliva starting from the tip end on your pink tongue. he stares at the way you roll it into your mouth and open up again, thirsty for more. "want more? told ya to beg for it."

he doesn't relent, holding his spit back as a hostage, making you squirm under him as you look up with your eyes slightly more open now. he's having way too much fun, still rolling his damn hips too slow, slower than before, wanting to make you dissolve under him, pinned to your own damn floor under his warming body. you huff, swallowing your own saliva in absence of his, opening your eyes more and more, looking at the way his dark hair falls to the side of his cocky face. attempting your best doe-eyed, pleading, manipulative look, you purposely quiver your bottom lip, pouting ever so slightly before inhaling softly.

"please, sebastian… give me more?" your voice comes out sweet and soft, almost enough to make him melt and relent. almost.

"more what?" his grin widens, hips almost unmoving as your cunt tries to keep him in.

"more… fuck me more, please? please please please, i wanna cum again, wanna cum soooo badly please…" a little whine in your voice, a little bit of that princess attitude and he's done.

almost like a full stop to your sentence, his hips speed up, slamming into you once again. and your eyes roll back, exposing the whites before you shut them tightly, biting your lip again, trying not to scream out so soon, but damn your cunt can't take it quietly. so slippery, so sopping wet it grips him tight and you have to cry to relieve the pressure building in your abdomen. nails dragging down his flesh as your ankles cross behind his lower back, his hips stutter but keep the pace as his balls smack against your ass, wet with the juices your sweet pussy can't stop leaking.

"wasn't so hard, now, was it?" he breathes against your mouth again, chuckling briefly before pulling another kiss from your pouting lips, "and now you got to cum again. be polite, say thank you."

your voice comes back in between shallow breaths, coming down from another high with bright lights behind your eyes. "tha— mmm thank you, s-sebastian."

it makes him chuckle, your sweet little words as you obey him. so far from the teasing, cocky little shit you were being before he stuffed you full of his cock and made you into his pretty little toy that's content even against the door or on the cold, hard floor. as long as you're full of him, as long as his thickness is thrusting into you and pushing all your buttons, you're happy to drool and moan his name.

"there we go, pretty thing, wasn't so hard, right?" his lips trail down to your jaw, down to your neck, down to leave a tasty bruise on your collarbone so red that he sees it even in the semi-darkness. "now you're gonna give me one more, okay?"

"h-huh?" you blink, lifting your head slightly to chase after his lips for one more kiss but he pulls away, lifting himself up on one hand as the other grips your plump thigh and lifts it higher, changing the angle so he can get even deeper inside you.

"one. more. you can do that, right? you can be good for me and cum one more time, for me?" when he puts it like that, there's not a single defiant thought in that pretty little head of yours, and it makes him smile briefly before slamming his hips rougher once more, making you whimper from the impact.

"f-fuck that's g-good…" your broken up voice is barely audible, barely reaches his ears as you try to breathe, his rough thrusts make it difficult to form thoughts, that much is clear from your blank expression.

"just good, hm? gonna have to up my game for you?" he chuckles, nipping your earlobe before pressing your thigh higher, hiking your knee over his shoulder as he fucks into you deeper, enjoying the way your eyes roll back again and again, your lips pop open to let out little gasps and fractions of his name. it's like a puzzle for him, like a game of trying to get you to say every syllable of his name he can then put into the correct order, peppering them onto your neck with sloppy kisses and bites.

"n-no aaah— please, more, more… don't stop, please baby don't stop, don't st—" you trail off, but from the way your warm cunt is fluttering around him, sebastian knows what it means. it's telling him to keep it going, to keep hitting that sweet spot inside you, to keep gliding his cock in and out of you until you're limp in his arms and all your pretty lips can manage is a string of his name and thank you. fuck, he wants you to fall in love, he wants you to be as obsessed with him as much as he is with your pliant body, with your tight little cunt that takes him in so willingly, with your filthy mouth, with your dirty little tongue that readily takes his spit. once more, as if to prove his own mind right, he lets his saliva trail from his tongue as he watches your lips part almost as if conditioned to do so at the sight of his spit. you swallow it, rolling your blushing lips together, enjoying it, savoring.

"yeah… yeah i'll give you more, pretty… you deserve it." he leans in to kiss those soft lips once more before lifting himself up again, taking a better look at your body, at the tits bouncing as he thrusts into you, at the flushed cheeks that would look so good if they were pressed against his thigh and bulging with his cock… but for now he's good with taking your legs into his hands and pushing them against your chest, getting into you as deep as he can, focusing his eyes first on your dripping pussy, that noisy little thing squelching as he ruts into her, parting those slippery folds with his thickness all the way to the base, and then looks up at your flushed face.

and he can't get enough, the sweet pout of your lips as you repeat his name like a mantra, seb, seb, sebastian, mmmm seb, the scrunch of your nose as you squish that pretty face in pleasure. the tears trailing down the sides of your face, those tears that he'll kiss later, when you're nothing but a babbling mess, when he can finally lie down and show you he can also be affectionate. affectionate… he shakes the thought out of his head for now, instead taking another look to see how his cock disappears into your cunt, how it's squeezing him so tight he wonders how he hasn't finished yet, you're so warm it's almost too good to be true.

sebastian picks up the pace, feeling himself come so close to finishing now, all it takes is one… more… fucking…

"seb! fuuuuuuck," your high pitched scream shakes him to his core, makes his movements falter for a second, the pace going out the window and his knees nearly slip on the hard floor underneath.

"mmmph shit—" he gasps out as he reaches his orgasm, shaking with the intensity of the pleasure while pumping you full of his white, sticky cum. your warm little cunt tightens around him one final time, accepting all of his release as he groans, leaning one cheek against your calf, resting his heated face. oh it's perfect, the slickness of your velvety walls, the hot sponginess of your insides gripping his cock, keeping him inside like they want him to stay. he collapses forward, landing on his forearms on the sides of your head before leaning down to bury his face into your neck. it's sweet, warm and a little sweaty from going through three orgasms, ending up in a scream of his name, exactly what you said you wanted earlier.

challenge passed i guess, he thinks, looking down at your face, the blush now spread all over it, looking so soft he could just kiss every inch of your skin. he settles for your lips. slowly, softly, letting you breathe, he presses his lips against yours and just… relaxes.

your body shakes slightly under him. opening his eyes, he realizes your eyelashes are slightly fluttering open and you're chuckling, the sweetest creases appearing on the bridge of your nose.

"i like it!" you say, voice going back to normal after so much breathiness in his ear.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

your fingers snap in front of his face, and in an instant he's on his feet, once again surrounded by people, the smell of sweat and smoke in the air and you… fully dressed standing one step in front of him with that cheeky smile tugging on your lips.

"you okay?" you ask, raising a brow and leaning in to get him to lower his head again so you can speak into his ear, "i said i like your name, bet it would sound nice echoing in my bedroom!"

sebastian feels his face redden, realizing he's been standing here like an idiot when you're practically throwing yourself at him, being so damn forward and open, and all he's done is get in his head and fantasize about what it would be like to have you…

"sorry, yeah… maybe you should— maybe we should test that theory." he saves the situation, and, seeing the smirk on your lips widen, together with a thumbs up from sam as he tilts his head to the side, sebastian sighs in relief.

hearing that little giggle from your lips, the one he's been imagining until now, he knows the night is about to get so much better. you take his hand and wave at your friends, that devious little smile being the last thing he sees before he shivers entering the darkness outside. he would question himself, think twice about whether or not this is a good idea, if he wasn't currently on the way to your place, running hand in hand so fast that your feet barely touch the ground.

[whoopsyeahokay]

Best Friends Club

summary: prompt fill. Wally's been your best friend since the Grade 4 puppet show. a disaster that brought you together for life. only now, years later and months away from graduation, Wally needs to get something off his chest. he just...didn't exactly plan to do it this way... (request)

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. friends to lovers. protective behavior. AU. silliness & fluff. Simon and Wally are bros (fight me).

bon reading, frens

___________________________☄️

Best Friends Club

Wally's chatting with Maddie and Charley before school, has his arm around your shoulders as you focus on your phone, laughing and joking and smiling wide until:

"Holy crap, Jake Tremblay just asked me to go out Friday," You announce, pretty eyes wide, blinking in shock at everyone.

Wally goes still, smile sliding off his face as his stomach drops and his heart ups and lodges itself in his throat. God, this hurts.

See, the thing is, you're Wally's best friend. And while he has his arm around you—is always reaching for you, hand on your back, arm, shoulder, whatever—it's never been anything but friendly. Best friendly. Because you and he are f r i e n d s. And it sucks. Royally.

Why? Yeah, no one needs three guesses to figure out that Wally's been in love with you since Grade 4. That massacre of a puppet show the kids put on for their parents during Spirit Week. You and Wally spent the entire performance using sock puppets to have a dialogue about who'd win in a fight: Goku or Sailor Moon. Didn't even notice the blood vessel about to pop in Mr. Toast's temple when things really started to spiral.

Wally only comes down to earth when you say his name for what must not be the first time, everyone's eyes on him. Yours, especially, beautiful and concerned as you stare at him expectantly.

"What was that?" He asks, feeling simultaneously dumb and unable to function.

You repeat, "I asked you what I should say..." and turn to face him fully. Still close enough that your body heat soaks through his hoodie. Fuck, how can he say anything negative when you're giving him that sweet, earnest expression? Seeking advice from someone you trust implicitly.

Against his better judgment—or maybe for it—Wally slaps on a smile and says, "Yeah. You should go for it."

This isn't the first time you've been asked out. Of course, those last few times you didn't look so keen on accepting the offer. When you turn back to your phone, Wally's face immediately falls. He doesn't look at Maddie or Charley, can't handle the pity he knows he'll see in their eyes.

Everyone in the circle knows about Wally's crush on you (fuck, it's so much more than that), but apart from insisting he talk to you, no one points it out. You're the only one who hasn't caught on, Nicole having informed Wally that you giggled over popcorn, what are you talking about? Wally's always like that, when everyone was at the APEX for a midnight screening of some scary movie Wally couldn't have cared less about.

And, sure, Wally is 'always like that': Goofy, charming, flirtatious; standing in line at concessions for you and holding your bag when you go to the bathroom... What you don't seem to grasp is that Wally isn't like that with anyone else. And now you're saying 'yes' to Jake Tremblay and Wally has to muster the strength not to punch a wall.

‗•‗

Simon closes his locker only to jolt backwards. Wally appeared out of the fucking ether, what the hell? He has his forehead pressed against the locker beside Simon's, shoulders slumped, looking all-in-all miserable to exist.

"Yoouu okay?" Simon ventures, raising a brow.

Slowly, Wally turns his head and nothing else, eyes puppy-dog sad and lower lip pursed in a pout, "No." And then, after turning to face the locker again, "She said yes to Jake Tremblay."

"Dude, I've told you a thousand times, talk. to. her." Simon says like a mother insisting Wally clean his room.

Pointed, "Oh, you mean like you talked to Maddie?"

Simon takes a moment to reevaluate his life before, in a placid, neutral tone, declares, "I regret this friendship."

"No you don't." Wally says, but he's still glooming into the locker. "What do I do?"

"Aside from talk to her?" Simon shrugs helplessly. How's he supposed to know? He and Wally have been paddling the same sinking boat for approximately the same number of years. "Do you...wanna threaten Jake?" Simon asks in a pitch similar to that used when asking children if they want to go for ice cream after a tantrum.

Wally seems to seriously consider it but glumly decides, "No. I want her to be happy." A heavy sigh. "Even if it's not with me."

"This isn't going to make you some kind of martyr, you know."

"I know."

Simon doesn't think Wally does know, but fine, he'll play along. "Maybe it'll go so bad that she swears off dating forever."

"A guy can dream," Wally mumbles as he straightens, and, Jesus, he looks like every kitten in the world just got launched at the sun and he was forced to watch.

Simon can see beneath Wally's utter despair to the gears turning in his brain. Can sense what ill-advised plan Wally is cooking up (because this isn't the first time he's done something stupid to ensure you're safe). In an effort to, a) avoid criminal charges and, b) make Wally feel better:

"What if I happen to be in the same place at the same time? I could keep an eye on things for you." Simon suggests and he already wishes he didn't say anything.

Wally brightens, "You'd do that for me?"

"Apparently..." Simon says, questioning himself. "Look, better me than you, right? Otherwise, it'll be exactly what it is and she'll never talk to you again."

"Why? What would it be if I do it?"

"Stalking, Wally," Simon states as he heads into History, Wally at his heels.

"Hey!" Wally protests, "It's not like that!"

Taking his seat, Simon just gives Wally a pointed stare, "Buddy, I know you read those BookTok romances, but following your BFF on her date with another dude isn't a romantic gesture. It's creepy a-f."

"But...you'll do it for me?" Wally wants to confirm, his eyes all wide and pleading.

Simon sighs, thinking this is a terrible idea, but seeing Wally so sad breaks Simon's heart and he can't bring himself to take back the offer. "...Apparently."

‗•‗

Friday comes. It's all you've been talking about since Monday and Wally has had it up to here with Jake This and Jake That, and if he hears one. more. thing. about Jake, Wally's going to burst into a million pieces of ragehate and take the whole school with him.

But he smiles and nods and teases you like he would in any other situation, bumping your ass with his hip when he finds you bent over at your locker at lunch. You don't even need to look to know it's him, simply continue to shove your backpack in your locker and grab your jean jacket.

"Diner?" You give him a sunshine smile that Wally returns, almost forgetting about your date and Jake and how you're not actually Wally's girlfriend.

Not in this lifetime, his brain reminds him bluntly.

His blood stings.

Over lunch at the diner down the street, you outline exactly what Jake has planned. Dinner at the Italian place beside the Arcade (it's fucking Olive Garden, Jake, do better) and then—Jesus, really?!—stargazing on the roof of the old cigarette factory. An organized thing. The planets will be in some kind of super rare alignment or something, and local enthusiasts have banded together to share their telescopes.

"No offense, but since when do you care about the planets?" Wally wonders as he dips his fries into your ketchup.

You shrug, "I mean, it's something to do, right? And you're always telling me to 'branch out and try new things, dorkface'," You exaggerate the last part in a parody of Wally's voice before continuing as yourself, "so, why not astronomy?"

"Because it's outside and you hate outside things before May." Wally chuckles and shakes his head, "You're gonna get cold and complain and steal Jake's hoodie like you've stolen five of mine."

Wally loathed the idea of you stealing another guy's anything, but he smiles through the jealousy. Perhaps a little too intent on smearing more fries through your ketchup as his knee bumps the underside of the table in quick, nervous intervals.

Oh, he is not doing well.

He instantly notices how you've gone still, how you're studying his expression, words, behavior like a zoologist at the gorilla enclosure because Wally can't fucking keep his cool when he's forced to think about you being cozy and cute for someone who isn't him-shaped.

Wally keeps his eyes on his plate for a few moments; long enough that you gracefully change the subject and ask Wally what his plans are for tonight. As if they don't involve hanging out with his phone while he obsessively waits for Simon's updates throughout the course of your date.

"Nothing special," He says, patting himself on the back for keeping his voice even, "just hanging out at home."

‗•‗

It's 8:43PM when Wally's phone lights up with a call. As promised, Simon kept Wally abreast of every. single. thing. you and Jake did on your date. From flirty conversation over unlimited breadsticks to shifting to one side of the booth to split dessert.

It's only been an hour and a half since you and Jake were seated. What on earth could Simon have to tell him that couldn't be texted?

"Don't freak out—" Wally promptly freaks out "—but something happened."

Wally shoots up in bed, where he's been whiling away since he got home from school, and is immediately on alert. Heart pounding, blood pumping, ready for war.

"What's going on? Is she okay?"

"Oh. She's fine." Simon reports. He sounds like he's hiding, voice a harsh whisper just loud enough for Wally to hear. "Jake might be in a permanent body cast for the rest of his life, but she's totally fine."

Wally breathes a sigh of relief, although he's still confused, "What happened?"

Simon clears his throat, "She's probably going to call you in, like, a minute, so you have to act...just...be cool, okay?" And then, finally, he reveals, "Jake tried to stick his hand under her skirt. And I mean, he went for it. Full grope from behind."

At that moment, Wally sees fucking r e d. He's off the phone and in his car faster than a bullet, tearing out of his parents' driveway with a screech. Burns rubber around every corner; breaks several traffic laws; and pulls up just as you're about to get into an Uber. There's no sign of Jake. Unfortunate, since Wally has a surplus of adrenaline thrumming through his veins, and the only cure is beating the guy's face to a fucking pulp.

You look confused for all of a second before your face crumples. Wally gets out of the driver's seat and hurries toward you. Gathers you in his arms as soon as you're within reach, and holds you as you shake. He rubs your back, soothes you with soft words; managing to simultaneously shoo the Uber driver away with a polite nod and a gesture.

"Are you okay?" He asks after a minute. "Do I need to kill him?"

"...No," You mumble into Wally's chest. "I already did that."

Wally grins, though it's sad at its edges. You shouldn't have had to.

"That's my girl," He murmurs into your hair after he places a comforting kiss on your head. "Come on. I'll drive you home."

You go without resistance, even allowing Wally to fuss over you and buckle you in. As he settles behind the wheel, he glances at you again and realizes, "Whose jacket is that?"

You press your lips together and stare at your lap, "I got cold... Besides, after what he did, I think I earned it." You end firmly, crossing your arms.

"Did you take it before or after you kicked his ass?"

"After, duh." You say like it's so obvious, "We were inside before. But I didn't want to wait for my Uber in front of everyone who saw what happened. So...I made him give it to me."

Wally barks a laugh as he takes your hand, holding it in that platonic way, fingers not laced how he wants them to be, but he'll take what he can get. Your knuckles are raw where they made impact with whatever part of Jake you punched. Wally smooths the pad of his thumb over them. Gentle. Loving.

"Where to, sweetcheeks?" He asks, "Home or ice cream?"

"Home." You decide with finality which makes it hard to swallow around the lump of disappointment in Wally's throat.

Call him selfish, but he hoped you'd want to let him comfort you. Regardless, he does as he's told and pulls away from the curb, pulling a uey to head toward your house.

‗•‗

On Monday, Wally finds Jake in the boys' locker room after swim practice, his black eye looking like it needs a twin. Wally punches Jake hard enough that even he sees circling birdies.

He shakes out his hand as he leaves without a word, hardly feeling the pain through the smug satisfaction warming his belly.

‗•‗

It's the next weekend when you invite Wally over for a casual afternoon kick back. I need Best Friend Time, you said, all adorable and gloomy, wanting to put all thoughts of ever dating again behind you (thanks for putting that out there, Simon, you da man!). Wally's in, of course he is, on the road as soon as you hang up.

Your parents are having a late lunch with friends a town over, so it'll be just you and him for a while. Games and snacks and Domino's on the menu for dinner. When you answer the door for him, you've got some of that sunshine glow back in your eyes, your smile making Wally's heart flutter.

You lead him to the basement, everything already set up: coffee table pushed aside for the nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, bags of gummy worms and twizzlers (Wally's favorite) and those Canadian chips you like in a pile beside cans of Dr. Pepper and Coke Zero.

Wally wore his cleanest sweatpants for the occasion, matching your chill vibe. And damn those low-slung yoga pants and that fucking tight-as-sin tank top, no bra because you love to drive Wally crazy.

"Ready to have your ass handed to you again?" You joke as you get comfortable on your side of the nest.

Wally claps back, "Hah! You haven't won in three months, sugarlips, what makes you think today's the day?"

You just smirk and hand Wally a controller, "I have a plan." And that's all there is to it. You don't elaborate, don't hint, don't give Wally any indication whatsoever what this plan might be.

Fishy...but effective. You're already in Wally's head. Hmm, maybe that's the plan? Wally shakes himself to attention and starts the game, grinning like a shark as he gets the lead right off the bat.

Just as he's about to cross the finish line, "So much for your pla—" the world suddenly tilts sideways. He can't finish his thought, barreled over by your weight crashing into him as you grab the controller right out of his hand.

You squeal victoriously, the sound rebooting his brain, and he realizes what just happened.

"Hey!" He tries to grab the controller, but you hold it up and away from him, big smile on your face as the screen announces Wally's demise. "Not fair!" He wraps his arms around you and flips you onto your back; presses his weight into you as he uses the advantage of his longer limbs to snatch the controller back.

Apparently not taking this lying down, you band your legs around his waist then surge up, somehow summoning the strength of five Wallys to roll him onto his back again. Stunned, he stares up at you as you wave the controller victoriously.

"You were saying?" You chuckle, smug as ever, slightly out of breath.

Oh, but Wally isn't done yet, miss ma'am. He snaps his hands up, clamping his fingers for the controller which you arch your back to hold away from him, crying out when he takes advantage of your off-balance position to knock you backward. Once more, he has you squirming beneath him.

He grabs one wrist and then the other, transferring both into the grip of one of his large hands while he plucks the controller from you with the other. That's about the moment he realizes, uh-oh, he can feel your breath on his lips. Your face is such a beautiful shade of pink, and your thighs are on either side of his hips. Wally's body is completely flush against yours. All of him. Every. Last little bit. of him.

Wally should move. Definitely. He should move right now; just get off you and pretend everything's normal and you're not gazing up at him like that and his lips aren't so fucking close to yours, and the air hasn't been sucked out of the room that no longer exists around you and him because there's only you and only him and fuck. Shit.

"Wally~?" You say, voice a whisper tinged with something that makes Wally's cock twitch. Heat, maybe. Or need. You swallow, the sound audible, and, oh fuck, Wally watches your eyes flicker to his mouth then back, like you're finally on the same page, like you want it, too.

His hand flexes around your wrists, body settling more firmly on yours, and he stares at your face as he rocks his hips, just once, experimental, just to see what you'll do. He knows you can feel him, stiff and hardening further, all his inches against the heat of your pussy through your thin as fuck yoga pants.

Your reaction almost explodes Wally's brain. That sweet little whimper, how your eyes glaze over and your lips part; how you mimic the action with one of your own, sending sparks of electricity through Wally's nervous system.

"Fuck," He chokes out, grip loosening around your wrists, but not letting go. He drops the controller. Instead uses that hand to brush his fingers across your cheek and down the slope of your jaw. His breath mingles with yours, the heat in him rises, his heart beating a frenzied tattoo in his chest. Is he really going to do this?

"Please," You say, so soft, so perfect, that, yes, Wally is absolutely going to do this.

He gently bumps the tip of his nose against yours, smiles in wonder that this is really about to happen, and then slowly, to give you a chance to turn away if you don't want this, he leans in, stopping only to tease, "One more time, princess." His voice low and husky.

He feels you tense and then release before whispering, "Please, Wally..."

That's all he needs to lean in and kiss you for the first time, his lips capturing yours with years of hunger and desire and fucking love. So much love it threatens to go nuclear if Wally doesn't share the burden right this minute.

He moans, grinds his hips against yours, his cock throbbing against you, God, he needs you so badly. Has needed you so badly since he first discovered how his dick works and probably even before then. He lets his hand roam down down down, then up under your tank top, fingers caressing the soft shape of your breast.

You keen and arch into the touch, and, holy shit, he can't do this slow. Next time—please Jesus, let there be a next time—he'll do this right. He'll do candles and rose petals and Barry Manilow, but right now, he has to know what it feels like when you come around his cock.

His kisses turn urgent, his movements more hungry, and you match his crazy like a mirror. His shirt first, thrown behind the TV, then yours, tossed somewhere near the coffee table. Wally takes a second to admire your bare chest, licks his lips, and then descends, starving for a taste. He sucks your nipple, twirls his tongue around it, moaning as if it's the best thing he's ever had in his mouth.

Which, as soon as he peels your yoga pants off and resituates himself between your spread-wide thighs, he knows isn't true. This is the best thing he's ever had on his tongue. He spears it in and out of you, moaning and panting as he kisses your pussy deeply, brings one, two fingers into the mix; pumping into you over and over until you shake and beg and arch so fucking pretty for him.

"Fuck, baby, I need to feel you come," He groans, shoving his sweatpants and boxers off and throwing them somewhere to find later.

You agree enthusiastically, reaching for him as you hook one leg over his hip, the other over his shoulder—Goddamn, were you always this bendy!?—and cry out like a heavenly chorus when he drives his cock into you. Fuck, God, his eyes roll back in his skull, it's the most incredible feeling, an indescribable euphoria flushing through him from scalp to soles.

"You feel so...big, Wally, oh my god," You gasp when he begins to move, and doesn't that just rub his ego the right way?

He genuinely can't even find the brain cells to reply, too busy losing himself to the sensation of being inside you, finally, so much more intense than any and every fantasy he's had of you and him entwined like this.

"Baby," He moans, hips pumping faster, fat tip hitting your sweet spot over and over and over until he feels you tighten around him, hears you gasp, and then moan in ecstasy.

He wishes he could last, that he could keep going until you come again, again, again, but he's waited so long for this and it's overwhelming, he can't do it. With one, two, three more quick thrusts, Wally tenses and then groans, grinding his release into you; leaning down to take your lips in a feverish kiss.

As you and he recover, he rests his forehead against yours, releases your wrists—oops—and cradles your face in one hand, his most precious girl a vision in the afterglow. You shift, your hands on his jaw, and you're looking at him like the sun, moon, and stars.

"How long?" You eventually ask.

Wally doesn't need you to clarify. He knows exactly what you mean.

"Grade 4."

He watches you absorb the information, nod, and then your eyes meet his when you make your own confession, "Grade 3. Ms. Houette's class. You made a joke about seagulls that was so lame it was funny."

Wally about short-circuits. He begs your finest pardon, but what was that? "Grade...3?"

"Grade 3."

"...are you saying that I could've been loving on you—" He emphasizes with a roll of his hips, winces from oversensitivity, "—since before I even understood what that meant?"

"I'm saying I've had a big, stupid crush on you since Grade 3." You say, innocent and solemn, "You take that however you want."

Wally chooses to forego the existential crisis and simply enjoy that he has you under him. There's a lot of time to make up for and a lot of fantasies Wally wants to bring to life, which you and he do with gusto until your parents get home and call down a hello.

Later, after redressing in a tornado and greeting your parents face-to-face; after stammered updates and weak conversation; after retreating to the basement to watch a movie and cuddle—Lord, you feel so good in Wally's arms, he never wants to let you go.

After all that, during a lull in the movie, you finally ask, "So, are you going to tell me how you knew what happened with Jake before I told you?" And you prop your chin on his chest, looking up at him with amusement.

Wally gulps, facing the screen as he desperately tries to come up with a feasible answer. Nothing comes to mind, though, so he's stuck offering:

"Uuuh...?"

You sit back, on your knees between his legs, and raise a brow, "I know Simon was there. You can tell him that Groucho glasses do not a disguise make."

Sheepish, "He's a good bro...?"

"A very good bro," You agree primly, "A bro who stalks one of his best friend's other best friend because...?"

Now Wally knows he has to tell you. He sits up himself, hands finding your waist, eyes earnest and sweet as he admits, "I wanted to make sure you were okay. I didn't know anything about Jake and you never let me vet any of the guys you go out with—"

"Yes. All three of them." You say flatly, rolling your eyes.

"One, three, five, doesn't matter, baby, I always wanted to make sure they were good enough for you..."

"So, did you make Simon follow me and Dan to the movie last year?" You wonder.

Wally glances away, guilt muddling his expression.

"...Did you follow me and Dan to the movie last year?"

"If I say no, will you believe me and let me cuddle you some more?"

Your jaw drops, eyes round, and for a second, Wally's sure he's about to get the boot. Not just from your house, but from the Best Friends Club altogether. He's already mourning the loss of your touch when you abruptly burst into laughter, crashing into him like you did before, only this time a lot gentler.

You nuzzle your face into his neck and then kiss his face all over, grinning down at him with the same beautiful smile you always give him.

"You're not mad?"

You shake your head, "I made Xavier come with me to that football game you took Melissa to last fall..."

Gobsmacked, Wally blurts, "You hate sports," since it's entirely relevant to how you stalked him as much as he stalked you on dates neither of you wanted the other to be on.

"I don't hate sports. I like sports. I hate all the pauses and the time outs and the—"

Wally cuts you off with a kiss, at first just a stamp of lips to lips but slowly melting into something softer, deeper, more heated.

Wally pulls back a fraction to say, "I love you, babygirl," looking deep into your eyes. One hand on your hip, the other in your hair, releasing a long, shaky breath as he waits for you to say something.

Finally, a smile spreads across your face and you kiss him again, short and sweet and meaningful.

"I love you, too, Wally Clark." Then, completely off-topic and far less romantic: "Do you wanna come with me when I stalk Simon's date for Maddie?"

Tires screech as Wally's brain comes to a full stop. Sorry, what was that? "Wait, Mads wants you to follow Simon?"

"Oh yeah, she's liked him for ages, but he never seems interested so...you know...she doesn't wanna risk the friendship."

"Jesus Christ." Wally looks at you, totally serious when he sighs with the exasperation of an ignored parent, "You know, I've told him, like, a thousand times to just talk to her." A helpless shrug, "He never listens."

‗•‗

Several days later, when you aren't looking, Wally steals the jacket you stole from Jake. Does terrible things to it before throwing it in Jake's face the following day.

Wally replaces the jacket with his letterman and has never been prouder of himself when he sees you slip it on without question.

☄️___________fin.____________

also on AO3!

Order Up! MASTERLIST

if you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy Marshmallow Miles.

a cutie-smut-lite oneshot wherein Wally wants to celebrate your birthday away from Split River. Because he can.

[loveanton]

melting point | lee anton

ꕤ DESCRIPTION: after spending the last few months as anton’s hidden secret you finally reach your limit with his inconsistency.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: situationship!anton x f!reader

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 2.8k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: desperate anton, some jealousy, kissing, and brief mentions of sex and alcohol

⏤ 𝑎/n: first riize post ^-^

You’re at your limit.

The bass pounds in sync with the rapid thump of your heart. The club is a kaleidoscope of pulsating lights and swirling laughter, but your focus narrows on one person: Anton. He's across the room, surrounded by a cluster of people, his magnetic charm drawing them in like moths to a flame. And there she is, Minji, hanging on his every word, her laughter tinkling like glass wind chimes.

You clutch your drink, the ice cubes clinking against the red solo cup in a rhythm that matches the turmoil in your mind. This isn't the first time you've found yourself in this position — watching Anton flirt effortlessly, his attention a fleeting commodity you crave but can never fully grasp. 

You take a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. It's a familiar battle, one you've fought countless times before. But tonight feels different, heavier somehow, as if the weight of your unspoken desires has become too much to bear. The two of you aren't exclusive, you remind yourself. You’re just...something. 

Yet, seeing him engrossed in conversation with another girl ignites a flurry of emotions within you.

As you stand there, grappling with your emotions, the thumping bass seems to echo the rhythm of your racing heart. A familiar voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present moment. "You okay?"

Turning, you see Heejin, your closest friend and roommate, her concern etched into the lines of her face. She knows you better than anyone, sensing the storm brewing beneath your calm facade.

You offer her a small smile, though it feels feeble against the weight of your emotions. "I'm fine," you reply, though the words ring hollow even to your own ears.

Heejin studies you for a moment, her gaze searching and knowing. "No you're not. I can see it written all over your face."

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you meet her gaze, the floodgates of your emotions threatening to burst open. "It's just... Anton," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Understanding flashes in Heejin's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the pain you're feeling. "I know," she murmurs, her voice soft but steady. "I've seen how much he means to you."

As you stand there, with Heejin's comforting presence beside you, memories flood your mind, tracing back to the moment when you first met Anton.

It was a late summer night in Seoul, and you were still adjusting to the bustling city, the unfamiliar sights and sounds overwhelming your senses. A craving for a midnight snack led you to the nearest convenience store, where you stumbled through the aisles in search of something familiar amidst the sea of unfamiliar products.

Lost in your own thoughts, you barely noticed the figure standing nearby until he spoke, his soft voice breaking through the fog of your confusion. "Need help finding something?"

You turned to see Anton, a friendly smile on his face, his easy demeanor putting you at ease. Relief washed over you as you realized he spoke English, a rare find in a country where you struggled to navigate the language barrier.

With his guidance, you found the sweet treat you were looking for, and as you parted ways, a sense of gratitude swelled within you. Little did you know, that chance encounter would become the start of something more.

Every Friday night after a long week of lectures, like clockwork, you found yourself drawn back to the same convenience store, hoping to catch another glimpse of the stranger who had shown you kindness in a foreign land. And without fail, there he would be, waiting for you in the back near the ramen section, a knowing smile on his lips as he greeted you with a simple "Hey."

In those moments, surrounded by the hum of refrigerators and the soft glow of fluorescent lights, you found solace in Anton's company.

You shared stories and laughter over steaming bowls of ramen, forging a bond that grew stronger with each passing week. And as you navigated the complexities of life in a new country, Anton became your anchor, a constant presence amidst the chaos of change. Eventually though the late night ramen runs shifted into late night hookups at his dorm.

You never intended to fall so hard and so fast for Anton but something about his soft spoken nature and charming smile rendered you a fool and now, as you stand here, grappling with the ache in your chest, you can't help but wonder if your bond with Anton was nothing more than a fleeting moment in time. The uncertainty of your situationship weighs heavily on your heart, overshadowing the warmth of those Friday night encounters.

You take a shaky breath, the weight of your unspoken feelings heavy on your chest. "What should I do?" you ask, your voice tinged with desperation.

Heejin listens to your question, her gaze softening with empathy as she considers her response. She reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder before speaking. "You deserve someone who sees you for who you are, not just a fleeting lay in the dead of night," she says gently, her words carrying the weight of truth.

You bristle at her words, a surge of defensiveness rising within you. "But maybe he just... he's busy, you know? Maybe he's just not good at showing his feelings," you protest, the familiar excuses falling from your lips like a well-rehearsed script.

Heejin's expression remains unchanged, her gaze unwavering as she meets your eyes. "You've been holding onto this hope for so long, but deep down, you know it's not enough," she says firmly, her tone gentle but resolute. "Anton's status as an idol may complicate things, but that doesn't excuse his lack of effort outside of those late-night meetups."

You falter under her scrutiny, the weight of her words sinking in with each passing moment. She's right, of course. Anton's gestures, while comforting in the moment, were little more than crumbs of affection scattered at your feet, never enough to sustain the hunger in your heart.

"He invited you to this party, right?" Heejin continues, "But look around you. Do you see him anywhere near you? Or is he off, charming someone who's 'socially acceptable' to be seen with?"

A bitter taste rises in your mouth as you glance around the room, taking in the sight of Anton across the crowded space, his attention focused on Minji, someone who fits seamlessly into his world of fame and glamor. And suddenly, the illusion shatters, leaving behind nothing but the harsh reality of your situation.

You take a shaky breath, the truth settling over you like a heavy blanket. "You're right," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the noise of the party. "I've been fooling myself, thinking there was something more between us."

Heejin squeezes your shoulder in silent solidarity, her presence a source of comfort in the midst of your turmoil. "It's okay to let go," she says softly, her words a gentle reminder that sometimes, the hardest part is acknowledging when it's time to move on.

Tears sting your eyes as you feel the weight of regret settle upon your shoulders. "I feel so stupid," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. "I wasted half my summer on a boy who wasn't worth it."

Heejin pulls you into a comforting embrace, her arms a shelter from the storm raging within you. "You're not stupid," she reassures you, her voice soft but firm. "You took a chance on something that felt real, and that's nothing to be ashamed of."

Despite her comforting words, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment in yourself. You had allowed yourself to be swept away by the allure of Anton's charm, only to realize too late that it was nothing more than a facade.

"But hey," Heejin continues, her tone brightening with a hint of optimism, "at least you made some fun memories to last you through the upcoming semester, right?"

You manage a small smile through your tears, grateful for Heejin's unwavering support. "Yeah, I guess you're right," you concede, the weight on your heart easing ever so slightly at the reminder of the good times you shared.

Just as you and Heejin decide to leave the club, your resolve wavering but firm, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. As you navigate through the crowded space towards the restroom, a familiar voice calls out to you, stopping you in your tracks. "Hey, can we talk?"

You turn to see Anton standing there, his expression unreadable as he pulls you aside, away from the prying eyes of the partygoers. Despite the ache in your chest, you can't help but feel a flicker of curiosity at his sudden appearance.

"He invited you to this party, right?" Heejin's words echo in your mind, a stark reminder of the reality you had tried so hard to ignore.

Anton's voice interrupts your thoughts, his words cutting through the noise of the club like a beacon in the darkness. "I missed you, angel," he confesses, his arms encircling your waist in a familiar embrace.

You freeze at his touch, the conflicting emotions raging within you like a storm. His warmth against your skin, once a source of comfort, now feels suffocating in its familiarity. You remain silent, unable to form coherent words amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

Unfazed by your lack of response, Anton leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers softly, "Do you want to head home with me tonight?"

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications. But before you can consider his offer, a surge of frustration and indignation rises within you, breaking through the haze of confusion and growing horniness.

"No," you reply firmly, your voice tinged with a hint of defiance. "I need to know, Anton. What are we? What do you want from me?" You pause, your gaze searching his face for any sign of sincerity. "Because this... this isn't fair to me."

Anton's expression shifts, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before being replaced by a mask of indifference. "What do you mean?" he asks, his tone casual, as if your question holds no weight.

But you refuse to back down, the fire burning within you fueling your resolve. "You know exactly what I mean," you insist, your voice rising with each word. "You reel me in with compliments and empty promises, but you never follow through. You only ever want to see me at night, where no one else can see us. I deserve more than that, Anton. We both do."

Anton's grip tightens slightly around your waist, his brows furrowing in frustration. "It's not that simple, okay?" he retorts, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "You know how hectic my schedule is with my job. I can't always be there when you want me to be."

You shake your head, the bitterness of his words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. "It's not about being there all the time, Anton," you counter, your voice tinged with disappointment. "It's about making an effort, about showing me that I actually mean something to you."

He opens his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it. "I'm tired of the excuses, Anton," you continue, your tone weary but resolute. "I need more than empty promises and late-night hookups. I need someone who's willing to put in the effort, someone who's not afraid to show me off to the world."

Anton's jaw tightens, his frustration palpable as he struggles to find the right words. "You think I don't want that too?" he finally blurts out, his voice edged with exasperation. "Do you have any idea what it's like to live under the constant scrutiny of the public eye? To have every move you make dissected and judged?"

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with the weight of his own insecurities. You understand the pressures of his career, the sacrifices he's had to make to maintain his image in the spotlight. But it's hard to reconcile his struggles with the hurt you've endured in silence.

"I know it's not easy," you concede, your voice softening with empathy. "But that doesn't excuse the way you've treated me, Anton. I've been patient, I've been understanding, but I can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not."

Anton's gaze flickers with a mixture of regret and resignation as he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush against your cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice laced with sincerity. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just... I don't know how to do this."

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his eyes, the raw honesty of his confession stirring something within you. But before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss.

For a moment, the world falls away, leaving behind only the heat of his touch and the softness of his lips against yours. And in that fleeting moment of intimacy, you're tempted to forget all the pain and uncertainty, to lose yourself in the familiarity of his embrace.

As Anton pulls away from the kiss, desperation flashes in his eyes, pleading with you not to leave him. "Please, don't go," he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't lose you, not like this."

His hands tremble as they cup your face, his lips trailing soft kisses across your cheeks, each touch a silent plea for forgiveness. "I'll do better, I promise," he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm against your ear. "I'll put a label on what we have, I'll make it official. Just give me another chance."

You feel a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through you, torn between the pain of the past and the hope of a future where things could be different.

"I don't know, Anton," you murmur, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "I want to believe you, but... how can I be sure this time will be different?"

Anton's expression softens, a flicker of determination crossing his features. "I'll show you," he vows, his words laced with conviction. "I'll make it up to you, every single day. Just tell me what I need to do, and I'll do it."

You hesitate, torn between the desire to believe in him and the fear of being hurt again. But as you meet his gaze, a glimmer of hope flickers within you, a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, there's still a chance for redemption.

"Okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the chaos of the club. "But this is your last chance, Anton. No more empty promises, no more excuses. Show me that you mean it this time."

Anton leans in once again and captures your lips in another kiss, this time with a depth of emotion that leaves you reeling. It's as if he's pouring all of his love and regret into the fervent press of his mouth against yours, a silent plea for your forgiveness.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry for everything."

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you listen to him speak.

"Can I make it up to you?" Anton asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come home with me, let me show you how sorry I am, angel.”

You take a step back to look into his eyes but Anton quickly scoops you back towards his body. His other hand is on the side of your face, pulling you in. He dips his head and crashes his soft lips against your waiting lips. You let out a moan at the force behind the kiss but don’t object. He turns his head to deepen the kiss and slips his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss only gets hotter and hotter as you continue, Anton tilts his head to the side and you move yours in the opposite direction. Parting from your lips, he moves down gently to the corner of your lips, the tip of his nose buried in the junction of your jaw to take deep breaths of your intoxicating scent.

The male lays more open mouthed kisses down your neck, making you feel nothing but pure bliss. Your eyes shut as you moan into the air.

His hands move from your waist downwards, sliding over your jeans to caress your ass and thighs. He places one more love bite on your neck before bending a bit and lifting the back of your thighs as if you weigh nothing. You gasp in surprise and wrap your arms around his neck tightly so as to not fall.

You tug at his hair before responding to his previous question. “Take me home, Chanie.”

[yearsbecomingcool]

thrill me, chill me, fulfill me | simon kalivoda

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | college au!simon x co-worker!reader

synopsis | simon has gone off to college and started working at a movie theater where he meets you. it doesn't take long for him to fall to you and one thing leads to another and he's on his knees in front of you in the office.

warnings | 18+!!!! mdni!!!, sexual content, semi-public sex, subby!simon, oral f!receiving, dom!reader, f!reader, public humiliation, sexual fantasies, mentions of piv, attempted footjob, we're getting into pet-lay territory with some of this dialogue, reader calls simon 'puppy', dry humping, and a fluffy ending.

word count | 7.1k

a/n | i love rocky horror so much and i feel like simon would love it too so all the sequences at the rocky horror screening were so much fun. i still haven't been able to go to a screening but it seems so fun. i also had to make him work at a theater because the movie theater is my happy place and i have to throw my interests in somehow!!

taglist | @slaytheusurper

Simon Kalivoda had managed to do the impossible, he graduated high school and got the fuck out of Shadyside…temporarily at least. He’d gotten into Kent State and was sad he didn’t have the grades to join Kate somewhere better but he’d take what he could get. He’d saved up enough money from his years working at the grocery store to put down a deposit for an apartment near campus and started his summer off by applying at as many places near campus as possible. The first one to call him back was a family owned movie theater by campus, they were known for hosting screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and tons of midnight movies. He quickly took the job and that’s where he met you. 

His first shift was one of the midnight shadow cast screenings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. He had no idea what he was in for, but you spent the first hour of your shift getting him caught up. You leaned against the concession counter, sipping on a Dr. Pepper. “All these people are gonna come in looking like they came from those cool queer clubs in New York. They’re nice but one of the biggest parts of this is making a total mess so it’s gonna be a bitch to clean but they tip great. They throw rice, newspapers, confetti, toilet paper, toast, and cards. A few people have been known to throw hot dogs and prunes too so be on the lookout for that. They bring in water guns and all kinds of shit, it’s a whole thing.”

“And Eli is okay with that?” Simon asks, slack jawed. He can’t believe the owner would be okay with patrons making such a mess.

“It’s good for business and it’s fun, he’d never admit it but I always see him go into the theater when it starts, he loooooves that shit. I’ve gone on nights off before, it is pretty fun. They have a whole ritual for virgins, people who’ve never gone to one of those midnight showings, it’s humiliating…and a little fun.”

“Did you have to do that ritual?” Simon is pretty intrigued.

“Oh yeah. I came in with my fishnets and sequin hot pants thinking I could be unnoticed but the people who run these remember everybody. They put a giant V on my forehead in red lipstick when I walked in and they pulled me and all the other ‘virgins’ up on stage. They really like the shy ones, which of course I was. They made all of us fake an orgasm and the two they liked best got pulled up for the wedding scene to be Ralph and Betty.”

Simon tilts his head like a puppy, “How’d you do?” He has a stupid little smirk on his face when he says it.

“Let’s just say I made the best Betty Monroe this town has ever seen.” He throws his head back and laughs in a way that makes you wanna kiss him.

“Laugh it up for now but next screening I’m making sure you’re off and I’ll be front and center to watch them pull you up there. Just how good of an actor are you, Simon?”

He smirks, “You’ll just have to wait for my debut.

You and Simon become friends quite quickly, you’re both around the same age and soak up movie knowledge like a sponge. Your slow shifts are spent going head to head in movie trivia and arguing over franchises and sequels. 

“There’s no way you think the Nightmare on Elm Street films are better than the Friday the 13th films, you’re full of shit Simon!”

“The only thing I’m full of is correct opinions. Jason is boring, he doesn’t ever talk. Freddy could kill him easily,” Simon retorts, pointing his twizzler at you.  

You smack the twizzler, “Bullshit! Freddy can only get people in their dreams, does Jason even sleep?”

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it soon after, he reaches up and scratches his head. “Wait, fuck, does he sleep? I think you just destroyed my whole argument here…”

“Maybe it’s a draw? If Jason can’t sleep they can’t fight…” You trail off.

“Whatever. Nightmare is still better than Friday, Freddy makes the movies. What does Jason have besides dumb teenagers having sex and getting killed with a machete?”

Before you can respond someone slaps the bell on the counter, “Shouldn’t you two be working?” It’s Eli, the owner and lead manager of the theater. He doesn’t look too amused by your bickering with Simon.

“Sorry Eli…I’ll go clean the bathroom or something…” You mutter, slipping out from behind the counter and heading for the supply closet. Simon watches you as you walk off and Eli rolls his eyes, snapping his fingers in front of Simon’s face.

“You need to be more subtle, y'know. I know she’s a pretty little thing but I didn’t hire you to stare all day, start restocking. You’re a good employee, don’t fuck it up with some silly little workplace romance. I’ve seen enough fizzle out to know how they all end, I don’t feel like losing either one of my best employees this year.” 

Simon sighs and salutes Eli, “You got it boss. I’ll stick to fantasizing about the girls on the posters instead.”

“Better,” Eli jokes before heading to his office.

As the school year was starting up along came another Rocky Horror showing. You’d pulled some strings and managed to get Simon off work that night just like you’d promised. He had freaked out over what to wear but you told him whatever he wore would be fine since you’d be doing his makeup anyway. He settled on a black blazer, black jeans, a band t-shirt, and his signature combat boots. He met you at your dorm like you insisted so you could help him get ready. He maneuvered through the halls until he’d found your room. A small whiteboard hung on the door, your name written in big blocky letters. You had a small dry erase marker hanging on the door for people to write or draw on it. Before knocking on your door Simon uncapped the marker and drew a little smiley face under your name. He knocks on your door and his eyes go wide when he sees you. You’re standing in front of him in a loose black corset that you’re holding against your chest, a pair of tiny rainbow sequin shorts, a pair of fishnets, and some platform boots. “Great timing, I needed someone to lace me up!” You pull him into your dorm room, shutting the door behind him. His eyes wander around your room, clothes spill out of the small laundry basket near your open closet door, posters you’ve taken home from the theater line your walls. You’ve got a framed poster of ‘Serial Mom’ hanging above your bed. You nod your head towards it, “Eli got me into John Waters when I started working at the theater, he gave me that framed poster to celebrate my one year anniversary of working at the theater.”

“That’s so cool of him…I can’t say I’ve ever seen Serial Mom.”

“I’ve got it on tape, we’ll watch it sometime. But for now can you lace me up?” You ask, turning your back to him. The laces of your corset hang loose down your back. His eyes wander lower than they should and he briefly admires how your ass looks in those shorts, the bottoms of your cheeks hanging out just enough for his mind to go crazy. He clears his throat and begins to pull at the laces, he doesn’t pull tight enough, feeling scared to hurt you.

“Pull harder, you won’t hurt me, promise. I just really don’t need to flash anyone tonight more than I already am,” you laugh. 

His face is flushed and his hands tremble as he pulls the strings tighter and tighter against your skin. You bend forward in a way that makes his breath get caught in his throat, “Pull as hard as you can, I’m serious.” He gulps and obeys, pulling the strings as hard as he can. You whimper softly as he does, “There we go…tie it for me.” He carefully ties the things of the corset, double knotting it just to be sure it’s secure. He takes a step back when he’s done and watches as you stand up straight, checking that it fits right. You turn back to him with a smile, “Thank you! Now let’s get you ready, yeah? Sit on the bed for me.”

Simon sits down on the bed obediently, eyes following you as you go over to your desk and rifle through your makeup drawer until you find what you’re looking for. You set a small eyeshadow palette and a few brushes on the bed next to Simon, holding a gel eyeliner pen in your hands. You stand between his legs and bend down, “I’m gonna make you pretty. Just do what I say so it doesn’t get fucked up, ‘kay?”

He nods in response, trying to keep eye contact and not let his eyes wander. 

“Look up for me, this is gonna feel weird but I won’t hurt you.” As Simon looks up you very carefully apply the black eyeliner to his waterline, his face scrunches up as he tries desperately not to blink. 

“Fuck this feels weird!” Simon exclaims, his hands balled up into fists against the comforter.

“I’m sorry! Sorry! I’ll try to speed it up, let me just…” You quickly outline about halfway under both eyes before playing the eyeliner down and reaching for your eyeshadow palette and a small brush. You smoke out the line beneath his eye before applying a soft silver shimmer to both eyes. After that you start on his top lids, you hold him by the chin as you lean towards him. “This is gonna feel awful but please don’t move.”

“You owe for this,” Simon mutters, enjoying the feeling of you holding him in place.

“Whatever you say…” You start quickly applying eyeliner to his upper waterline and he groans in discomfort.

“Oh what the fuck?! What are you doing?!” He yelps, hands reaching forward for your waist. His hands curl into the fabric of your shorts.

“Simon, stop! Fuck…just let me…can you lay down? It might make it easier on both of us.”

“I uhh…yeah…sure just uh…w-whatever you need to do…” He stumbles over his words, laying back on your twin sized bed. You climb onto him, straddling his hips. You lean over him and giggle when you look down at him, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s um…it’s fine.” He prays you don’t notice how red he is. You notice. 

You lean down towards him to finish applying the eyeliner to his waterline. His hands grip your hips and his breathing is unsteady, this having an effect on him and you love it. You’ve always been into the submissive types, a strong muscled man who takes charge has never really done it for you. The dorky guys who would do anything you said no matter what are more for you. When Simon was first hired you were instantly intrigued. You begged Eli to put him with you for his first shift and he did. He was witty enough to keep up with you but intimidated enough to let you order him around, he was just what you’d been wanting. “Close your eyes for me.” You watch as he obeys and you apply a thin line of eyeliner onto his eyelids, just barely peeking above his lash line. You smoke it out with the same black eyeshadow from before and then take a silver glitter and apply it to his inner corner. You add mascara as a final step before rolling off him, “Go see what you think.” You smile over at him as he gets up from the bed and goes over to your vanity mirror to look. His jaw drops and his eyes widen as he looks at himself in the mirror. 

“Oh shit! I look…hot?” This is the confidence he needs for the rest of the night to not fall to his knees and beg you to kiss him. In high school he’d always act more confident than he really was, he pretended he was some smooth ladies man and women would just fall to his feet. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. The most action he’d get was a few girls flirting to try and get lower prices on whatever pills they were buying off him that week. Well that’s not entirely true. He wasn’t a virgin, he’d lost his virginity when he was 16. It wasn’t anything special, a nervous hookup with a girl he met at a party. They were both nervous and it was sloppy, fine but forgettable. His hand had really been the only one to keep him company as the years went on.

You laugh and walk over to him, grabbing him by his shoulder to turn him towards you. You take a look examining his face carefully, “I think you need some blush.” You shove him down into your desk chair and look through your makeup for a shade that’ll look nice on him. He hardly needs it though after how you manhandled him. You come back over with a soft pink shade and a brush. You apply the blush, careful to not add too much. You use it almost as a contour, following his bones structure and fanning it out onto his cheeks. You turn the chair for him to look back into the mirror, “Now you look really hot.”

“Woah…I do…goddamn. The only other makeup I’ve worn before was like…green face paint in high school and some black on my eyebrows. I uh, I used to be my school's mascot. We were the witches,” he explains. 

“I can totally imagine you as a school mascot, you have that energy,” you say as you put away your makeup.

“Thanks…I think?”

“I meant that in a good way, I swear!” You say defensively as you stroll over to your closet looking for a jacket. You hold up two options for Simon to choose from, a black leather jacket and a black blazer. “Which one do you think?”

Simon thinks for a minute examining his options, if you wore the blazer you could kind of match him but the leather jacket would look cool too. “Uhh…blazer, definitely the blazer.”

“Good choice, we can match. You shove the leather jacket back into the closet and slip on the blazer. It’s longer than Simon expected, falling just above your shorts. It looks like you may as well be pantless, not that he’s complaining of course.

You sit on your bed with a handwritten list of call outs and prop instructions. You made a bag of props for you and Simon to share as well. Simon scoots the chair closer to take a look. He smiles at your messy handwriting and the stickers that adorn the sheet. The top reads ‘A Virgin’s Guide to Rocky Horror’. He’s more than happy that the blush you applied earlier conceals his actual blushing. You hand the list to him, your fingers brushing as you do. You’ve obviously touched before but every touch after you straddled him earlier makes him feel like he’s on fire. “I made it for you, it’s way too much to memorize for your first time so you can just read it off whenever it’s time.” You give him a soft smile, taking a second to admire how the eyeliner makes his blue eyes pop. 

“Thank you, seriously you didn’t have to do all this.” Simon was worried about making friends when he went off to college, it felt weird to be separated from Kate and Deena after being friends for so long. Thanks to you he didn’t need to worry anymore, you welcomed him on his first day at work like you had been friends for years.

“I know but I couldn’t have you looking stupid, could I?” You laugh, reaching for your purse. You look through it until you find your bright red lipstick, the exact one you’re wearing right now. You lean forward, signaling him to lean down. “Almost forgot…” You uncap the lipstick and draw a giant red V on his forehead. “There, look’s complete now.”

“What happened to make sure I didn’t look stupid?” He groans, leaning back in his chair.

“Hey! It’s tradition, don’t blame me. It was gonna end up on you one way or another. Just be thankful I got it over with now, yeah?”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “Can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“Shut up, you’re gonna have a great time and you look hot, seriously everyone is gonna go crazy for that eyeliner. You should be thanking me honestly, if at least one person doesn’t ask for your number tonight I’ll be shocked. I mean seriously, look at you.” You motion to him.

He feels his cheeks heat up and his mouth go dry. He doesn’t know how to say he wants it to be you who asks for his number, he wants it to be you who kisses him in the theater bathroom and messes up his hair in the process. Instead he chuckles, “We’ll see.”

“Don’t let me leave disappointed, pretty boy.” You ruffle his hair playfully, he wishes you’d tug him by it and pull him into a kiss instead.

The drive to the theater is more nerve wracking than he’d like to admit. Five minutes of pure anxiety as you try to quickly explain the film to him. “Fuck it’s so sexy and fun, it changed my life when I first watched it. My parents are total conservatives, they hate anything fun and liberating, so I watched it for the first time at a friend's house. It completely changed my life. I stopped really giving a shit about what my parents and all those other conservative losers thought about me and started living for me. I’ve never looked back since.”

“I’ve kind of done the same. Shadyside was kind of a nightmare to live in. All those Sunnyvale kids judged us just for where we were born, it was fucked. I think I stopped caring just to spite them and their stuck up attitudes, y’know?”

You turn to look at him, interested in learning more. “What was Shadyside like? I mean I’ve heard all these stories over the years, it’s murder capital of the country after all…”

He parks the car and turns to you, “It was just like every other boring small town in America. Every couple of years there’d be some murders, my senior year it was Ryan Torres killing Heather Watkins and a couple other mall employees. I guess growing up like that you get a little…numb to it I guess? I know that sounds bad but as soon as one happened everyone at school would joke around about it, I guess it’s how we coped with it.” 

You nod in understanding, “I get that, the whole joking around part. My family does the same. At a certain point it’s really all you can do.”

Simon unbuckles his seat belt, “As fun as it is to talk about death with you I think we should get in line, it looks like it’s already pretty long.” He nods towards the line and you unbuckle and grab the prop bag from the backseat. You walk together towards the longline of movie goers. 

“Damn, looks like a great turn out. Are you ready to give them a show?” You joke.

He looks at you in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Did you forget about the initiation for virgins?” You giggle.

“Fuck…” He mutters. He did in fact forget.

“Oh babe you’re in for it tonight…”

As everyone trickles into the theatre Simon and the other virgins are pulled to the stage. You take a seat in the middle near the audience and put your prop bag in a seat to save it for Simon. He’s nervously holding his hands in front of him as the announcer begins to speak. “Welcome everyone to another showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” They pause as the crowd erupts into cheers. “We have some fresh virgins here to provide us with our favorite pre-show entertainment. We’ll be seeing who can fake an orgasm the best. Why don’t you all introduce yourselves to the crowd before we begin?” They pass the microphone to the girl standing closest to them, she’s dressed like Janet at the beginning of the film. Her nervousness is clear on her face. Simon is fourth in line and he puts on an act of confidence when it’s his turn, “I’m, Simon. I’m gonna win this little competition, trust me.” You raise your eyebrows at his confidence, now you really want to see what he has in store.

Finally everyone has finished introducing themselves and the mic is handed back to the host, “Now why don’t we get this started. Simon,” they point towards him as he stands in the middle of the lineup, “Why don’t you start us off since you’re so confident.” His cheeks go red with embarrassment, even with his blush on it’s clear thanks to the unrelenting glow of the spotlight. He’s really regretting his words, sure he’s always been a class clown but this audience is packed. He laughs nervously as he’s handed the microphone. “Uhh okay…”

The silence of the crowd does nothing to calm his nerves, so you decide to yell some encouragement. “C’mon baby! Give me some shower head material!” The crowd laughs but it seems to help Simon as he recognizes your voice.

He bites his lip and closes his eyes, he’ll feel better if he doesn’t look. He decides he’ll give a little build up, whimpering pathetically into the mic. He imagines you riding him, his hands on your hips as he begs you to let him come. He starts to moan into the mic, getting louder and louder before mumbling, “Oh fuck…” He moans and whines dramatically into the mic, falling to his knees and throwing his head back. He pants and whimpers as if it’s the real thing. You can feel a wet spot growing in your panties, you know he just gave you the best damn shower head material of your life. Once he’s done he stands and bows, his cheeks flushed. He hands the mic back to the presenter as everyone claps and cheers. He spots you in the crowd and teasingly blows you a kiss. 

“Well whoever is gonna be on top of him tonight is in for a treat, huh? I think that’ll be pretty tough to beat.” The rest of the virgins have their turns, none nearly as impressive as Simon. They end up choosing some girl dressed as Magenta to play Betty and of course pick Simon to play Ralph. He stays up at the front until after he’s gone up on stage for the wedding scene. You can’t help but feel a bit jealous as you watch him stand hand in hand with the other winner, she looks at him hungrily. You weren’t the only one impressed by his performance. Once their scene is over he runs back into the audience to find you. When he does you pull him down into the seat and kiss his cheek, leaving a red lip print. “You were fucking hot. I told you someone’s getting your number tonight.” 

He laughs and whispers, “They might ask for it but I’m not giving it out to just anyone.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Got your eye on someone?”

He shrugs, “I might.”

Once the movie is over you and Simon head to the local diner down the street from the theater. The winning girl had tried to approach him after the movie but you were quick to pull him away. Sure it was selfish but you couldn’t give a fuck. You wanted him for yourself even if you were too cowardly to make a move yet. You sat across from him in the booth, you shared a basket of fries together as you talked. “So? Did you have fun?” You dip your fry into the small tin of ketchup as you put your feet up next to where he sits.

He smiles, “I had a great time. The uhh,” he lowers his voice, “competition was a little embarrassing but your encouragement helped me out actually.”

“Well I had to say you definitely succeeded in giving me some shower head material so thanks for that,” you joke. 

He chokes on his sprite, “W-What-”

You stifle your laughter, “Calm down, I’m kidding! But you were pretty impressive, as a former winner myself I have to give you that.”

He smirks down at the table, clearly trying to make up his mind on something. “Am I ever gonna get to see your performance or?”

Now it’s your turn for your face to heat up in embarrassment, you drop your fry back into the basket. “Uhh…I guess you’ll have to really earn it out of me.” 

“Right here?” He cocks eyebrow and looks at you teasingly.

“What would you even do?”

He leans back and crosses his arms, looking around to make sure your section is empty. “Well…I could always get on my knees under the table. Spread your legs apart and pull down your shorts. I could tear a hole in those fishnets and maybe I could be mean and tease you through your underwear. Eventually I’d move them to the side or maybe I’d fully pull them down and eat you out and really earn it out of you.” 

Your jaw drops, you want him right here in this diner and you don’t give a fuck who sees. “W-Would you-”

“Not here. You’d be too loud,” he says smugly. 

“You sound so sure you could get me that loud,” you snap back. You move your foot off the seat and use it to kick his legs apart under the table. You slowly start to trail your boot up his leg. 

“I-I could! Y-You’d-” He yelps when the toe of your boot presses against his inner thigh. 

“I’d what, Simon?” You ask innocently. You start to move the toe of your boot towards his crotch, enjoying how he squirms in his seat. “You’re not so tough now, huh?” You lightly press the toe of your boot against his crotch, smirking as he bites his lip to stay quiet.

“You wanna get out of here?” You giggle.

He nods quickly, throwing a twenty on the table and standing up quickly. He grabs your hand and pulls you up, pushing you in front of him as he leads you to his car. As soon as you get in the car you’re on him. You kiss him hard, tugging at his hair as he leans against the console to reach you. He whines against your lips and you smirk against him, tugging harder at his hair. You love when he whines. You’re just about to move to his neck when there’s a knock on the window and the shine of a flashlight coming through. You groan as you pull away from him, “Not the fucking pigs…”

Simon sighs and turns towards the window, rolling it down for the cop standing outside the car. “Hi officer…” he says through gritted teeth.

“License and registration please,” the cop says emotionlessly. He leans his head down, looking at you, “License from you too, now.”

You both try to keep neutral faces as you look for your IDs and Simon looks for his registration, he hands them over to the cop once you’ve found them and the cop takes a look. “You know if I let you go any further I could’ve charged you both with public indecency and exposure.”

You both hang your heads shamefully, “Yes, officer. We’re very sorry,” you say.

He continues to lecture the both of you before finally letting you go. Once Simon has started to drive off back to your dorm you’re both howling with laughter. “Holy shit! Cock blocked by the pigs…can’t say that’s ever happened before!” He laughs. 

“I can’t say it’s happened to me either…the RA’s are pretty strict about late night guests so I don’t think I’ll be able to wrap this up. You think I gave you enough to manage?”

He rolls his eyes at you, “Yeah yeah, me and my hand will have a nice conversation about the way you were about to give me a footjob.” 

“Me and my shower head will have a conversation about that orgasm you faked on stage.”

“Promise?”

You nod, “Mhm, I was serious. That was some top tier shower head material, babe.”

“I tried, I really did.” He looks proud of himself.

“Oh I could tell.” 

He pulls into a parking spot outside your dorm. “So, when am I seeing you again?”

You groan and run a hand through your hair, “You’re gonna hate me but probably not till our next shift together. You work thursday?”

He nods, “Mhm, closing shift.”

You smile, “Me too, looks like I’ll be seeing you then.” 

He smiles and leans forward, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. It’s not as needy as before, it’s sweet and soft instead. You kiss him back just as soft, if you could you’d kiss him for the rest of your life. When he pulls away he’s smiling like he just had his first kiss, “I’ll be thinking of you.”

“So will I. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you Thursday.” You hop out of his car and wave goodbye as you head back up to your dorm. As soon as you get inside you’re stripping off your clothes and making a beeline for the shower. You’re lucky enough to have a detachable shower head and you put it to good use just like you promised. It doesn’t take long for you to cry out his name and hold onto the wall to stabilize yourself. You’re looking forward to the next time you’ll get your hands on him.

Thursday finally rolls around and it’s an absolute nightmare of a shift. There’s something sinister in the air that has kids vomiting, teenagers talking through movies, and best of all adults fighting at a screening of Showgirls of all movies. It’s safe to say that you and Simon don’t get much time together. You’re taking turns taking care of whatever problem pops up while the other tries to work the snack bar as quickly and efficiently as possible. It’s not till you get everyone out of the building that a slight sense of peace washes over you. You and Simon are taking your time to clean up each theater. Once you’re finally alone in the lobby with Simon you open your mouth to start a conversation but Eli interrupts before you can even get a word out. 

“I’ve got a family emergency going on. I trust you both to lock up and count the money. Don’t fuck it up, yeah?” He says quickly before tossing the keys to Simon and heading for the door. Simon runs to lock the doors behind him, finally making his way over to you. Simon leans against the counter, admiring how you look in the outfit you chose today. You’re grateful there’s no uniform and that the dress code is so relaxed. You’re in a black sweater and a black skirt that sits just above your knee. Simon has spent his whole shift imagining getting down on his knees and hiking it up to eat you out. If he had a little less self control he might’ve pulled you into the supply closet to lift it up and get a peek at what panties you were wearing that night.

“We’re finally fucking alone…” He mutters, taking his time as he looks you up and down.

“This is close to being the worst shift I’ve ever worked,” You groan, leaning forward against the counter.

“Well…since we have the keys to the office do you wanna go watch those guys fighting from earlier?”

Your eyes light up with excitement, a wide grin spreading across your face. “Oh hell yes! Let me grab some popcorn first, they looked pretty bloody getting escorted out so I know this is gonna be some good shit!” You grab a small tub and fill it with popcorn, slathering it in butter. You walk with Simon to the office, making yourselves comfortable on some rolly chairs. You watch as Simon figures out how to reverse the cameras, going back until he finds right before the fight starts. The film played on the big screen when a man leaned over to a woman to say something, the man in the row behind him threw a handful of popcorn at them, a valid reaction to someone talking during a movie. It doesn’t take long for the man sitting behind the couple to drag the other guy out of his seat, a fight breaking out instantaneously, “Goddamn!” Simon grabs the popcorn bucket from your hands, spilling butter onto your exposed legs in the process.

You groan,  “Simon you got butter all over my legs, what the hell?!” You reach for a napkin but he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

He looks at you with a smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll clean it up.” You watch as he pauses the camera footage and gets out of his chair, sinking to his knees in front of you. 

“What the hell are you-”

He cuts you off by spreading your thighs, “I told you, I’m gonna clean you up.” You watch with wide eyes as he starts by licking the butter that splashed onto your knees, he’s thorough about it, making sure he gets every last bit of it. He slowly moves his way up your legs as you watch, biting your lower lip softly. “Pull your skirt back.”

You mindlessly do as he says, spreading your legs wider instinctively. He can see your underwear now, plain black cotton panties with a lace edge, a small white flower sewn onto the front. He licks up your thighs, getting closer and closer to your core as he cleans you up. Soon you can feel his breath against your core, he turns his head to kiss your inner thighs. What starts as soft kisses quickly turns into him leaving an array of hickeys on your inner thighs. He’s marking you possessively. You reach down and grab him by his hair, pulling him out from between your thighs. He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes, his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed. “Let me take my skirt off first, I didn’t know you’d be so…eager.” You stand from the chair and push your left foot forward, “Wanna take my shoes off for me, puppy?”

He nods and begins to unzip your boots, helping you remove them carefully, setting them aside. He watches as you unzip your skirt and let it fall down to the floor, you step out of it and watch as he picks it up and folds it carefully, setting it next to your shoes. You sit back down, spreading your legs for him, sitting on the edge of the chair. You giggle as he pulls you forward by the chair. He starts to place soft kisses on your hips, smiling shamelessly as he does. “You’re so fucking beautiful, I couldn’t stop thinking about you for my whole shift. You know that?”

You blush like a schoolgirl, “You’re full of it…”

“I’m serious. Let me worship you, please. You deserve it…” He pleads.

“I’ll allow it…I guess…” You mutter sarcastically, leaning your head back as you watch him.

He carefully bites down on your waistband, trying to pull down your panties. You lift your hips to help him as you watch in amusement. You look down at him with your mouth agape as you watch him tuck the pair into his pocket.

“I’m gonna need those back y’know,” you cross your arms over your chest.

“Not happening, sorry. Maybe I wanna start a collection,” he teases.

“Are you always this bratty?”

He pretends to think about it, “Maybe.”

“Prick.”

He shoves his head back between your thighs, you sigh as you feel his warm breath against your now exposed cunt. His movements are slow and teasing as he places a kiss on your clit before sucking on it, pulling away and giggling at how your hands curl against the chair. He leans down to lick up your slit, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit. You whine, your eyes fluttering. It’s been too long since someone besides yourself has touched you. He brings a hand up to hold your hips steady, his other hand coming up to your folds. He spreads you open, teasing your slit with his tongue as he reaches up to pinch your clit. He chuckles to himself when you gasp, huffing in pain and annoyance at his teasing action. He pushes his middle and ring finger inside of you, scissoring them to spread you open as he leans forward and takes your clit into his mouth. He’s better at this than you could’ve imagined, pleasure washing over you as he pumps his fingers inside of you, curling them as he works to push deeper and deeper.

“Jesus fuck Simon, guess there wasn’t much else to do in Shadyside huh?” You joke breathlessly, a whimper escaping your lips directly after. You’re a mess from his touch, you can feel him smirk against you. He is pretty proud of his skills.

He starts to push his fingers deeper within you until he’s hitting just the right spot with every curl of his fingers. He pulls away from your clit, blowing on it, loving how it makes you squirm. You’re so responsive you’re driving him insane. He can’t help when he parts his thighs and settles his crotch against your leg. He starts to hump your leg like a bitch in heat as he returns to sucking your clit. The sight alone is enough to make your eyes roll back. You can’t believe how pathetic he’s making himself without even trying. You wanna drag him by his hair and make him your bitch, keep him on his knees in your dorm for your own entertainment. He whimpers and whines pathetically against your clit as he ruts against you, matching the pace of his fingers. You reach down to pull his face closer against your clit, moaning his name softly as you feel him whine against you. If this is on tape you want a copy. You’d play it till it fell apart and became unwatchable. He nips at your inner thighs before returning his attention back where you need it most. He pulls his fingers out of you, licking them clean, before diving back in headfirst. He shoves his tongue inside of you, picking back up where he left off. He eats pussy like a man starved, lapping up every bit he can get, curling his tongue to find the spot you need most. With how his nose presses against your clit you can’t take much more, holding his hair as tight as you can as your hips buck against his face. You whimper his name, a string of curses leaving your lips as you come. He works you through it, pulling back to let you catch your breath. A smug smile adorns his face as he looks at you, fucked out and panting.

“Gotta clean you up…” He mumbles, leaning back in to clean the cum off your thighs. He continues humping your leg as he does, mumbling your name and whimpering every now and then. He’s so desperate for it that you can’t help yourself from helping him out, bouncing your leg in sync with his thrusts. It doesn’t take long before he’s a panting mess just like you. He’s made a mess of his briefs and he couldn’t care less. He rests his head on your knee, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Can we do this all the time? Not hooking up at work…but just like hooking up…and going on dates? Fuck…I really want you to be mine, I know if I don’t ask now someone else will try to swoop in and-”

You cut him off, “Yes Simon, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

He beams up at you, lifting himself up to kiss you, cupping your face. You can taste yourself on his tongue but with how he’s kissing you it doesn’t matter. You pull him closer by his hair, it’s as if you’re trying to melt into his touch completely. You’re both putty beneath one another. When he pulls away he smiles at you with flushed cheeks.

Your eyes go wide in realization, “Simon.”

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding lovesick.

“We need to finish closing.”

“Oh shit!” He stands up and grabs your skirt off the floor and throws it at you. “Get dressed, I’m gonna finish cleaning the lobby, you count the money and I’ll recount it after!” He runs out of the office and back to where the two of you had been cleaning before. You laugh to yourself and redress, heading to the bathroom to wash your hands before going back and counting the money. Simon comes in and recounts when he’s done, before locking up the safe and heading to the break room to grab his things. You stand by the front doors, smiling to yourself as he jogs over, keys in hand. 

“I think we’re the best closers Eli has ever had!” He beams as he goes to set the alarm.

“Probably his only closers to fuck around in the office,” you scoff. 

Simon unlocks the door for you, opening it and letting you walk ahead of him to the next set of doors. He’s quick to relock the door before doing the same with the next set. “The other closers probably use the break room for that…or the bathrooms.”

“As hot as that was you’re never eating me out in the bathrooms, I’ve seen too much shit to ever let that happen in there.”

“Fair enough…” He walks you to your car, his arm around your waist. He presses you against the driver side door and kisses you for the last time that night. “On a night we’re both off I’ll take you on a real date, promise.” 

“I’ll hold you to it,” you smile, leaning your head against his.

“You drive safe.”

“I will if you do,” you retort.

He rolls his eyes and pulls away from you, “I better see you alive and well for your next shift.”

“I’ll do my best, boss.” You slip into your car and lean your head against the headrest. You smile to yourself until you realize Simon still has your underwear. “Oh goddammit!”