#feel free to share any other Thoughts you’re having - if you want!!

[goldenroutledge]

if tomorrow never comes

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

word count: 2.0k

prompt: ❛ i didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, i just have a lot on my plate. ❜. based on this request.

summary: in which you and carlos drift apart and the tension boils over on your anniversary.

a/n: i’m having so much fun writing these requests! thank you to everyone requesting :)

masterlist || be my valentine blurb event 💌

“When do you think you can be here, Carlos?”

His voice is tight on the other end of the line, knowing that you won’t like the answer. “An hour. Ninety minutes tops.”

You want to scream out and repeat his answer back to him so loudly that he can hear from the balcony of your shared apartment. It’ll let all of Monaco know how ridiculous he sounds. The flight attendant’s presence at the other end of the cabin helps you keep your composure. “And you’re sure that’s it? One hour?”

“Yes cariño, I promise.”

“Don’t call me that when I’m annoyed with you.”

“Can’t help it.” Carlos smiles cheekily, you can hear it in his voice. You can’t help but roll your eyes, feeling that he’s not taking you seriously. Postponing time spent together, sometimes venturing into canceling dates altogether, was becoming too frequent for your liking. But patience had to be your strong suit dating Carlos. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Yeah. See you soon.” You end the call abruptly, leaving him to a last minute business meeting while you’re sitting here, awaiting your boyfriend on the private jet he has abandoned. Then again it would only be considered abandoned had he shown up on time to begin with.

He’d returned home from training yesterday exhausted as ever, yet reassured you with the promise that you two would spend a few days on a quiet getaway for your anniversary. Just the two of you, alone together. A trip you’d been planning for weeks now, with the need to make it an anniversary you’d always remember. If getting away was what it took to get Carlos to relax again, to be with you free of any distractions from work, you’d do that.

Carlos regards his career with a dedicated spirit, diligently organizing his schedule to make sure nothing falls between the cracks. His training, his sponsorships, his future at Williams… As badly as he feels to leave you waiting, duty calls. A last minute Zoom meeting with a new sponsor held him back at the apartment for longer than he anticipated. While most people have already resigned themselves to the fact that they can’t have it all, Carlos Sainz is not most people. He’ll either have everything, or die trying. It’s one of the many traits you love about him. Your heart aches at the thought of it being what tears you apart.

“Champagne?” The flight attendant offers you the drink, one of two that was meant for your celebratory toast with Carlos to kick off your anniversary trip.

“Thank you, it’s been a long day.” The flight attendant gives you a sympathetic smile, watching you down the drink with no effort. If this keeps up, it’ll be a long weekend too.

–

Once Carlos finally joins you on the plane, his ask for forgiveness is difficult to deny. He brought you a bouquet of flowers so large they took up their own seat on the plane, and he hadn’t stopped showering you with love since he arrived. Something about making up for lost time, he’d mumbled into your ear when you questioned his overwhelming affection. The colors of the flowers tied in beautifully with your outfit; Carlos was sure to capture it with a few photographs.

His attention to detail was another thing that you loved about him, it drew you in everytime. When you’re together like this, free of the outside noise, you wish it could last forever. Always on the other end of the phone or outside the airplane window is something ready to whisk him away. Ideally, an anniversary spent with him would consist of a lazy morning making breakfast together, simply basking in each other’s company.

His company was hard to enjoy when you were barely experiencing it, now sitting alone at your anniversary dinner hours later. Your mood turned sour when Carlos excused himself to take a call, walking away from the table before you had a chance to express your distaste. The tension that had been simmering between you two was bound to bubble over once again as Carlos returned to your table with a guilty look, phone to his ear as he ended his call with his cousin/manager.

You didn’t bother to look up, taking your anger out on your meal instead, poking and prodding the food with your silverware. It was a delicious meal that did nothing to deserve a brutal assault by fork and knife, ruining its picturesque presentation.

“Mi amor, I’m sorry.”

“Did you know that the more you say those words, the more they lose their significance each time?”

He sighs, running a stressed hand through his dark hair. “You know the kind of pressure that I’m under right now, cariño. How much this year has worn on me in general. Please, I just need you to be a little more-”

“Understanding? Yeah, I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.” You cut him off harshly, and the look you give him across the table is worth flinching from.

“You have. And I feel terrible, but it won’t last forever.” He attempts to soothe your worries, reaching for your hand. You don’t accept or deny his touch, you’re just still. It sends a shiver down his spine.

“You’re right, Carlos. It won’t last forever. You’ll make sure of it.”

“What do you mean by that? You think we’re going to break up?”

“I’m saying that if you don’t make time to nurture our relationship, there won’t be a relationship left! I’ve been here, Carlos. For you, for us, while juggling my own life and career, so don’t tell me it’s impossible. There was a time when you balanced it all before, when you weren’t working yourself to the bone because you decided you have something more to prove to the world.”

“I’m trying to balance everything, but it’s not always going to be smooth sailing. You know it’s not easy.”

“I know it’s not. I don’t need it to be, but I miss the days when you felt like our relationship was worth making time for. When I wasn’t the last of your priorities.”

“Maybe I miss the days when you understood that I’m not always going to be available for you 24/7.” Carlos rants, feeling defensive at how this time, the gloves are off, you’re finally letting Carlos feel the weight of the burden you’ve been carrying– loving enough for the two of you. Your pounding heart reminds you that it’s impossible to carry on like this. Something has to give. “Do you realize how much time I’m spending away from training to be with you? Is that not making time for our relationship?”

Tears prick your eyes in frustration, the air suddenly feeling warmer than before. Your nervous system begs you to get out of there, to leave the conversation before either of you say something you’ll regret. If it hasn’t been said already. “You still don’t get it, do you? I don’t even need any of this! I just want you! I remember the days when that wasn’t too much to ask for.”

Your hand has long dropped his, and Carlos’ eyes widen in panic as he watches you move out of your chair. “Amor, stay. Please, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Confliction moves through you like a strike of lightning, torn between staying to talk it through or taking a moment of space, after pouring out the feelings you’d spent so much time locking away. The last straw is when your waiter approaches your table, holding a small cake in his hands. On the top of it is a picture of you and Carlos together on your first anniversary, more content and in love than ever. A candle burns on the cake and wax melts down the sides, resembling the tears that wish to fall. Carlos’ eyes plead with guilt, begging you to stay and forget. Smile and pretend that right now, you’re still that happy couple printed on the cake.

Instead, you throw your napkin to your plate. “I need some air.”

–

Carlos watches you go, he doesn’t stop you. A timeout will do you both some good right now. He tries to tell himself that it’s not that bad. Couples fight. But he sits there, sullen, knowing that he’s fucked up this time. His heart burns as he stares at the picture of you two on the cake. It’s unbearable, and that little surprise he orchestrated now feels like a pointed joke at his expense. He blows out the candle and the light goes out. But closing his eyes won’t help his fear of the dark. Even he can’t run from this.

He finds you outside of the restaurant, sitting on a bench, staring down into the renewing waters of the fountain. It’s mesmerizing, the way you can drown in the sight and get lost in the calming sound. He slides his jacket off and wraps it around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, mi amor. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I just have a lot on my plate. But that’s no excuse to put our relationship on the backburner. I’m so, so sorry.” Carlos presses a chaste kiss to your temple, and feels comforted by how you subtly lean into his space. It’s a step. “I love you, and I’m going to listen to you. I want to make this better because there’s not a life for me without you in it. I need you, cariño. I want to be with you, always.”

“I’ve felt so disconnected from you lately and being here on our anniversary, reminded of all the happier times we’ve shared, I just… that scares me. I’m scared we won’t get back there if there’s any more distance between us.”

“I should’ve seen it sooner. The truth is, I am able to do what I do because you’re always there. You support me when things are up, when they’re down. When I lost my seat, when I got sick with appendicitis, when I won races… you’re there for it all. I took you for granted thinking that I could give everything I have to my career, when it’s you who deserves it.”

“You do give it everything, but I think you’ve lost sight of things a little bit. Usually you give me everything you have too, I mean the little cake with us on it… I love that you did that for me, Carlos. I’m only so upset because I love you too.”

Those words haven’t stopped echoing in his mind. He swears he’ll engrave them into his brain forever, as long as you’re happy. “Maybe I have been overcompensating a little bit, feeling pressure to make things perfect in my career. The year has been difficult, but I couldn’t have gotten through without you.”

You kiss his cheek, warming up to his affectionate words. He’s sincere, he truly means them. “You’re more than enough, Carlos. Just the way you are. Weathering the storm isn’t always easy but there’s nobody else I’d rather be with either.”

“Can we start over?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

“I have an idea. Should I throw my phone into the fountain, cariño? You’ll have my undivided attention for days.”

“Tempting, but no. Keep your phone dry, my love. Would you be opposed to going back to the villa? Enjoying the rest of the night in?”

Carlos wiggles his brows, as he recognizes that familiar glint in your eyes. One that shimmers with hope and longing. “We do have a pretty sweet cake being boxed up as we speak.”

“Maybe we can light the candle again? I promise I won’t leave the room this time.” Your hearts soar at the thought of blowing out your candle together, hands held as you make a new promise to each other. The past years together have been bliss and the rainbows have always shined through the cloudy skies. The next years together, you will wish for the same and even more.

“Anything for you, cariño. Happy Anniversary.” He presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you with no choice but to cup his jaw and bring your lips to his. The cool breeze outside is no match for either of you– you’ve got your love to keep you warm.

“Happy Anniversary, Carlos.”

💌: thanks for reading! reblogs & comments are very much appreciated :)

taglist: @marjorieswrld

[hukelughes]

your writing of frat luke made me think about frat quinn (which we don't see a lot i feel like)

can you maybe write something about a situationship with him

You nod along to what he’s saying, an easy smile on your face. You like him, he’s easy to talk to, knows exactly what to say at the right time, and wants to know you. He’s exactly the person who you should want.

“So, I just eat shit down this hill as like ten scouts are looking straight at me, I’ve never been so embarrassed.” He laughs, putting his face in his hands, shoulders shaking as he recalls the moment. 

Your smile slowly fades as you give him a fake laugh, something you’ve perfected these last few dates.

“This guy puts his stick in front of my legs, and I fall down, y’know, like eat complete shit down to the ice as everyone’s watching me. My coaches, the scouts, my parents, my brothers. I swear if anyone ever finds that clip, I’m retiring and moving to the Galapagos to become a fucking biologist.”

You burst out laughing, head falling back as he watches you with a soft look in his eye. “Oh my God, do you even have a biology degree?”

“Nope, I quit college in my second year and was a Sports Management major. I would be fired on my first day, I think.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. The other one was gently holding your waist, with your bodies facing each other and your faces closer than ever. 

“Aw, well it’s a good thing you’re making it big now, huh?” You mumble, looking down at his lips. You’re not being subtle, giving him hints about what you want for about an hour now. “Quinn, can we go back to your place?”

“Yeah? You wanna go back to mine?”

Nodding, you lean forward enough that your breathing lands directly on his lips. “Yeah.”

He breaks the distance, hands now going to cradle each side of your face. Your lips meet for the first time, immediately tasting the beer he’d been drinking. Putting your fingers in his belt loops, you pull him even closer, if that was even possible. Your tongues brush against each other as you both fight to lead. It’s messy, passionate, euphoric, and you don’t know if any other man could kiss you like Quinn Hughes.

“Are you listening? Hello?” He snaps his fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of the memory. 

“Yeah, sorry, your story just reminded me of something someone told me.” You grimaced, looking down to fiddle with your rings. 

“How about we cut this date short and just go right to the good stuff, huh?” 

His words send a cold chill through you, instantly waking you up from whatever trance you were in. “Sorry?”

“What, you don’t want to fuck me, baby?”

“Not really, no. I’m just going to go now, if that’s okay?” Without waiting for his answer, you grab your jacket and your bag. You can hear him calling after you as you walk towards the exit. Once you’re out in the cold Vancouver weather, you finally breathe out a sigh of relief. 

Fumbling with your bag, you take your phone out and open up your contact list. You stop at ‘H’, thumb moving around in circles before you just click on it.

It rings three times before you finally hear his voice.

“Hello?” Quinn asks, his voice voicing his confusion as to why you were calling him during your date. “Y/N?”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to gather your thoughts, before you close your eyes and let it out. “Can you pick me up?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re still sharing your location with me right?” 

“Yeah, you should see me right away,” you hear him shuffling around, presumably getting up and grabbing his keys. “He really sucked.” 

“Did he?” Quinn hums, something about his tone tells you that he knew it all along. “Baby, I told you that you’re better off with me.” 

“I know, I know.” You absentmindedly kick a rock into the road. “I just thought our… arrangement wasn’t working anymore. Didn’t wanna get too emotionally involved with you.”

He chuckles under his breath, “yeah, well, it’s already too late for that. Here you are calling me to rescue you from your date.”

“Shut up. I was wrong.” You concede, rolling your eyes in the process. “What’s your ETA?”

“Hm, 5 minutes I think. Should be there soon, traffic isn't bad.” He estimates it's quiet for a second before he speaks again. “Mine or yours?”

“Yours, definitely yours.”

You aren’t talking about who’s place you’re staying at tonight. 

[b0kevi]

try. | Jamil x gn!reader

summary: y/n’s heart aches for jamil but knows they can’t be together, can jamil really love y/n the way they love him

trope: slight angst, fluff happy ending, in denial, love confession

info: “I think… I can love you.” prompt, gender neutral reader they/them pronouns, long cringe love confession

characters: Jamil Viper, Kalim mentioned

w/c: 1115

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

A part of you knew what you were getting into. You knew it wasn’t going to work out the second you sensed something, but the heart wants what it wants.

and for some reason, your heart wants jamil.

the dashing mysterious servant from scarabia.

your brain told you to stay away from him, not because he’s mischievous no, because he has enough on his plate. you doubt he has time for romance or if he even thinks about romance.

your brain told you to stay away and let him go but your heart told you otherwise.

you ended up getting closer to the vice warden and sharing chores with each other, basically spending any free time you can at scarabia to hang out with him and help him out.

every minute you spent with him, the louder the voice in your heart got. you were being greedy, selfish to wish that he would love you like you love him.

“something on your mind?” you were doing it again. getting lost in his movements, so memorized by the way he moves in the kitchen, he doesn’t even need to use his signature spell for you to be captivated by him.

“oh, it’s nothing.” you were supposed to be washing dishes as jamil prepares for dinner but as days go by your feelings grow stronger and you really thought this would be easy to hide but it’s starting to hurt a lot more than you thought.

“really? because it seems like you're somewhere else.”

Jamil already finished preparations and made his way to you before having to take the food out, he nudged your shoulder a bit to grab your attention. just with a single touch you could feel sparks running through your body.

“sorry, it’s just been a long day... you know how it is.” you finished washing the last plate and dried your hands, speaking up before he could.

“why don’t we take this food out? I'm sure everyone’s starving.” grabbing plates to hide from his glaze.

𖥸

“delicious as always jamil.” you smiled as you took a bite. after you guys fed everyone else, you two went to the kitchen for some quiet time to eat your own dinner.

Jamil chuckles softly, “it’s nothing special…”

you stare at him, how could he not see how wonderful he is. how you wish you can tell him how amazing he is, you could spend the rest of your life singing him praise just so he can see how special he really is.

𖥸

“is there… something you want to tell me y/n?” This made you jump as you handed Jamil your plate for him to wash.

“hm? what do you mean?” you played off, Jamil could tell something was bothering you, you were so quiet and distant with him today, it was unusual. He noticed it’s not just today you were distant, the last couple of weeks you’ve been quiet, still helping him but not yourself. he could use his snake charmer to figure out what was going on but he felt wrong to do that, he wanted you to tell him yourself.

Jamil sighed as he leaned against the counter, “you’ve been very distant and have been staring at me quite a lot lately… have I done something?” you can take it anymore you can feel your heart about to burst.

“Jamil… I have to tell you something.” he knew it. you motion him to sit down which he hesitantly did.

“just… hear me out okay? I know this might be a lot and you might hate me but I need to say this.” you started out, squeezing your hands and taking a deep breath before staring into Jamil’s grey eyes.

“Jamil… I love you. I've loved you for so long and I tried so hard to push these feelings away and let you do your own thing but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stand being away from you, I'm drawn to you jamil. you’re so amazing that I wish you could see that yourself. you’re such an incredible and hard working person that I can spend the rest of the days telling you how wonderful you are just so you can believe it yourself. I know you're just a servant but that doesn’t matter to me, I don't care, I love you jamil and I understand if you don’t feel the same, I know you have a lot of stuff going on which is why i didn’t want to tell you but i had to. i understand if you don’t want to see me again…” you finished your rant as you felt like you’re about to burst into tears but you held it in.

Jamil had a deep blush on his face and blank stare and he digested what you just said.

Jamil had so many thoughts running through his head, he never thought anyone would feel this way about him or if he deserved this kind of love. you were right, he did have a lot on his plate, he didn’t know if his family would allow him to have a partner or if he was ready for one, how would he provide for you? He already has to take care of kalim, could he take care of the two of you?

you took his silence and avoided gaze as his answer and turned to make your way to the door.

“w-wait-!” Jamil frantically stood up and grabbed your wrist, he looked so puzzled and flustered.

“jamil you don’t have to say anythin-“ Jamil interrupted you before anything.

“I think…I think I can love you.”

Jamil could think of the consequences or what ifs later but what he knows right now is that he feels good when he’s around you. He doesn’t feel like a servant at someone’s beck and call, he feels free and he likes being around you. If this is love then he definitely thinks he can love you.

“I know I don’t come from a lot but I can definitely love you if you give me a chance to prove it.” his hand moved to hold yours.

that’s it. your heart just exploded, you jumped at him and crushed him with a hug making you both fall to the ground.

you kissed his cheek and all around his face, “yes! i don’t care about anything else i just want you jamil!”

jamil let out a genuinely laugh as he sat up holding you tightly as if you were going to let go and change your mind. he held your face gently, looking deep into your eyes, “I promise to be there for you and show you love Hayati.”

“Me too Jamil.”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

hayati = my life

a/n: I’m not arabic and I used google to translate ^ idk i saw that prompt and immediately thought of jamil for some reason, idk how to feel about this lol have a good day/night ! take care <3

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

tainted love

pairing: javier peña x steve murphy

cws/tags: only one bed, when you gotta jerk off ur partner bc he can't sleep but it's just a platonic thing dw #totallynotgay, use of f-slur, frottage, watching porn together briefly, mutual masturbation, technically infidelity ig but what connie doesn't know can't hurt her

summary: steve can't sleep and he's keeping javi up, so they have to jerk off ???

a/n: homosexual activities return to my blog

thank you to @almostempty for your help w this ! i could not have done this w/o you

wc: 3k

It’s not the first time Javi’s ended up with Steve’s name on his lips and his own hand wrapped around his cock. It’s not an everyday occurrence – Javi has tons of masturbation-worthy images in his collection of sacred memories. He’s got dalliances with hookers, something more and simultaneously less with that one communist girl, even Lorraine, back when she was something other than a blurry, ever-present mistake in his periphery. But, these thoughts are finite. In desperation, he’ll search for more. 

Sometimes more is his partner, partner in work, not in sex, not really, not yet. It comes down to the way Steve looks when he’s pissed off, the way anger forces him into physical contact despite the fact that he’s not a touchy-feely guy. It’s the time he had Javi pressed up against the wall in the hallway of the DEA office in Medellin – it felt like deja vu, he’d seen that moment on an x-rated videotape that no one would ever know he rented. Fuck government secrets, it’d take a harsh interrogation to get Javi to reveal the fact that he watched gay porn by his own volition. More than once. 

It’s a sleepless night like any other except Javi’s not in his own bed or anyone else’s, he’s in a hotel room he’s sharing with Murphy. It’s not the worst thing that could’ve happened – he could’ve gotten stuck with Stechner, but Messina decided to pair up with him for a reason Javi doesn’t want to hear about. 

There’s alcohol somewhere, but not in his overnight bag – maybe in the minibar, but that’s on the far side of the room and whether it comes out of his pocket or not, the prices make him feel sicker than a hangover would.  

Though he and Steve are facing away from each other, he can tell that he’s not sleeping either. It needles at him in the dark. Steve’s wakefulness bleeding onto Javi’s side of the bed, his body heat threatening to burn through the ever present wall of masculinity that keeps him at a distance. 

Murphy tosses and turns to the point where Javi wonders if he’s doing it for attention – he’s doing a great job if so. Javi rolls over to tell him to cool it. 

“Would you cut that shit out?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I. Because of you.”

Steve shrugs as best one can in his position. 

“What do you want? A bedtime story?”

“Might be kinda nice.”

“Alright,” Javi says, like he’s really committed to the idea. “One night, there was a DEA agent who killed his partner–”

“Okay. I get it.”

“How the fuck does Connie sleep in the same bed as you?”

“I guess I don’t really toss and turn when I’m with her.” He pauses.

“She usually holds me – or I hold her. Not like a baby or anything, but you know…”

“You need to be cuddled to sleep? Seriously?”

He really seems to think about it. “No.”

“‘Cause the only way I’m holding you is in a headlock.”

“How do women sleep with you, huh? You’re wide awake and pissy about it.”

“When I said women sleep with me, I didn’t mean it literally.”

“So, you kick ‘em out of bed? Sounds about right,” Murphy says it with a smirk, like he’s gotten one over on Javi, but he hasn’t. 

“No, they know to leave. Or, I do. It’s bedroom etiquette. You wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ve got something better – a wife. She sleeps with me for free.”

“God knows why.”

“She loves me. I’m loveable, Javi.”

That one strikes a nerve, but Javi doesn’t dare let it show.

“Maybe by her standards.”

“You saying she has low standards?”

“She could do better. She’s a very nice woman.”

“What does that mean?”

“Relax, man. I’m not trying to fuck your wife. I’m not that much of a scumbag.”

“Good. Not that I think she’d be into you anyway.”

“Plus, I can get laid without traveling to Miami.”

Steve huffs. It was a low blow, Javi’s willing to admit that.

“Okay, listen. We gotta be up in the morning, so let’s get practical here. You with me, Murphy?”

“Aye aye, cap,” he says with the least enthusiasm. 

“So, she’s been gone for a while, and I don’t see you coming to work looking like complete shit – at least, not any worse than you used to — so how are you getting to sleep?”

“I mean, I usually, you know…”

When Javi gestures to say go on, though he’s pretty sure he knows, Steve says much quieter, “Jerk off.”

“Was it that hard to say it?”

“I mean, it’s a little awkward.”

“What are you? 12? Everyone jerks off.”

“So, what? You want me to just jerk off?”

“Not here,” he says incredulously at the notion despite the fact that it does excite him. “In the shower if you have to.”

“I don’t usually do it in the shower.”

“You get to try something new then.”

“If I have to get up, then dry off, get dressed again, I think it’ll just start the whole process over.”

“So what? You want me to go stand outside and wait for you to finish?”

“The idea doesn’t sound unappealing…”

“No way am I doing that.”

Pissed off and admittedly aroused by the thought, he suggests, “You know what? Fuck it – put up a pillow barrier between us, and go ahead. Find something on pay-per-view so I don’t have to hear anything from you.”

“You serious?”

“If it’ll help you sleep.”

They fight over pillows and that’s only half the battle.

“Do you think they’ll know we’re buying–”

“Yes, so get something normal, will you? I don’t want anything weird showing up on the bill.”

“Relax. What’d you think I was gonna pick?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really think about your porn habits.”

“Well, what do you like?”

“What?”

“What do you like, Javi? We should find something we agree on.”

“So, now I’m a part of this?”

“I was trying to be nice.”

Javi stays silent while Steve rattles off possibilities. “We’ve got lesbians, mature women, threesomes…”

Javi gives him an unenthusiastic ‘sure’ to each option. 

“Oh, here’s the gay section,” Murphy says with a laugh.

And to avoid an awkward silence, Javi jokes - or tries to, “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

And Steve’s head turns around faster than you’d think was possible. “Oh, so you’ve tried it?”

“I was making a joke.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Why do you even care? Just stop stalling and pick something.”

Though he’s clearly still considering prying, he settles on whatever the most basic shit is – some blonde girl getting railed by some dude with a cock big enough to distract from his lackluster face. 

It’s about a minute of fake moaning that somehow makes things worse before Steve asks, “Do you think if we change the channel, they won’t charge us since we barely watched it?”

“Might as well try. Turn on PBS or something. That shit’s always free.”

It’s free but it’s a science documentary. Slimy jellyfish and the old men who know a concerning amount about them flood the screen. 

“Just turn off the TV,” Javi says, unable to hide his disgust.

Murphy spits into his hand, takes his cock out, and Javi is listening intently to it all. It makes him uncomfortably hard. He won’t sleep if he doesn’t get off, and at this point there’s no real shame in it. 

They breathe in tandem, each strangled sound egging the other one on, until Steve dares to ask, “So, you said you’ve watched gay porn before?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you didn’t say you haven’t.”

“Fine. Yes, I have. Can we go back to not talking right now?”

“But I’m curious.”

“Keep your curiosity to yourself.”

“Have you ever done anything with a guy?”

“Why? Do you want me to tell you a story about me getting a handjob from some guy outside a bar when I was hammered? You really wanna get off to that?”

“Maybe. If you can jazz it up a little.”

“I barely even remember it.”

That’s not entirely true. 

Sure, the memory’s faded a little over time, but he wasn’t blackout drunk like he wants Steve to believe. He was young, and a little bit desperate due to a recent breakup. It was hard to put on a face that said ‘I’m approachable and you’d have a good time if I took you home,” so the only attention he got that night was from a guy only a bit older than him, he’d guess. It was the kind of thing where he should’ve known it wasn’t friendly banter from the beginning, and maybe he did – he just didn’t want to believe that he was letting this happen, that he was engaging in it, that he was enjoying it. 

It got a little touchy-feely in a way real Texan men aren’t supposed to, unless they’re faggots. The word rings in Javi’s ear, and it’s the only thing louder than Murphy’s heavy breathing, which is far closer in time and space. 

The guy – whose name he’ll likely never know – led him outside and whatever ‘it’ was went down in an alley.

“Did you like it?”

“I liked it enough.”

Enough to cum from a handjob alone, and enough to try to give one back, and the only reason he didn’t really get to was because his hands shook, and it was summertime. 

‘You’re not used to this are you?’.

‘No, I’ve never…’

‘It’s okay,’ he said, removing Javi’s hand, gingerly, almost apologetic.

The goodbye kiss was anything but – it was tongue and teeth, indulgent. You could say it was self-indulgent on the other guys’ part, but you’d be wrong. It felt like it lasted longer than the handjob, and maybe it did, but god, that’d be too embarrassing to admit even in his own mind. It was the kind of kiss that dared Javi’s cock to spring back to life and he fought it desperately. 

‘See you around.’

But the pair never did. Javi convinced himself it never happened and during drinking games or friendly teasing he insisted that he’d never touched another man, just like every other friend of his. 

So, why would he tell Steve?

Before Murphy can ask another goddamn question, he turns it on the fucker, “Why don’t you tell me about your sex life?”

“I mean, besides Connie, there hasn’t been anyone since I was, fuck, I don’t know…”

“Is Connie any good?”

“Of course she’s good.”

Javi waits for the ‘but’ with a raised eyebrow, and it comes. 

“It just gets boring, alright? I love her, though.”

And Javi knows he does. He knows he does because Murphy can’t sleep without her in bed beside him. 

It doesn’t miss Javi that Steve’s breath falters more when Javi’s name leaves his mouth. 

“Javi…” He’s been stroking himself the entire time, but he’s not close, it’s not a plea to cum. It’s a hesitant question. 

“Yes, Murphy?”

“Why do you always call me by my last name?”

“I don’t know, Steve.”

It’s just to get a reaction out of him, which it does, subtle enough that another person might not catch on, but Javi’s waiting for it. 

And the reason is probably somewhere between the fact that he calls everyone by last name - and, come to think of it, it’s actually kinda weird that Murphy calls him by his first name - and because he feels like exchanging first names equals real friendship and somehow, that’s too intimate for Javi.

“Is that better?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Steve…”

“Yeah?”

“You want this, right?”

“If you do.”

“You gotta tell me. ‘Cause I’m not doing anything if you’re not into it.”

The distance between them dissipates. It doesn’t matter who closes the gap – if one didn’t, the other would. 

Javi looks back and forth between Steve’s cock and his mouth and tries to decide what’s right. Because he wants both, he has to find another metric to measure, to make his choices for him. 

Dive right in and take Steve’s cock in his hand to avoid the intimacy that locking lips requires? Kiss him to quiet everything including his own mind? 

He’s dumbfounded for a moment and you’d think he’s the one who’s never touched a man before if you didn’t know any better. The thing is: Javi can jerk another man off, even give a likely mediocre drunken blowjob. The difference is, this is Steve, naked in bed beside him. The difference is, he’s thought about this. The decision to do this shouldn’t be this easy when he’s sober. But his inhibitions are dangerously low because he’s dreamed about this. 

He’s played out fantasies before that he knows wouldn’t - shouldn’t – become reality. There are countless reasons not to do this - Steve is married, this could ruin both of their careers, this could compromise the most important case in DEA history. 

There is only one reason this should happen: desire.

Javi leads with his heart not his head (admittedly, his dick has influenced this specific decision to a significant degree).

His contemplation is cut off by Murphy’s lips pressed to his. The kiss is hesitant only until Javi reciprocates. Then it leans more towards animalistic than sweet but it’s needier than anything. Between the two of them desperation has only ever led to tension that boils over into fighting, but somehow insomnia is all it took to get them here. 

His brain has one thought playing on loop - the simple fact that he is actively kissing Steve Murphy. Until his mind is free of thoughts. Sex usually works like that for him, particularly with women ‘cause he doesn’t have to worry about the persistent guilt and fear of getting caught in the back of his mind, but his stress rarely fades at just kissing. Maybe they’re not just kissing. It feels like something more. Javi can’t think, but he sure as hell can feel, and he’ll feel this for days, weeks, months, maybe years if he’s really unlucky and there’s no feeling strong enough to replace this one.

The pillows that stood between them are now strewn across the floor as are the pretences. This isn’t one coworker tolerating another’s nighttime routine – at the very least, this is a friend helping a friend in a time of need. But that sounds too innocuous – too generous, even sacrificial. What they’re doing is fumbling around in the dark (even though Javi aches to turn on the lamp, to see, to savor) trying to find out how to get this over with the quickest, what will make the other cum first while learning how to drag this out, how to tease, how to get the other to the edge and no further. How to do this together. 

It starts with the kiss, with Javi lazily stroking his own cock until he dares to place his hand on Steve’s inner thigh. It’s a hesitant question and a final warning, and in response Steve’s breath hitches. They lock eyes for a moment before Javi removes Steve’s hand from his cock and replaces it with his own. There is no protest, only a low groan before he takes Javi’s cock in his hand with a firm grip that makes it feel more like retaliation than returned favor. It also feels way too fucking good. Javi takes it as an invitation for competition, his right hand is more dedicated and focused, moving faster while his left grabs Steve’s jaw and brings him into a kiss fueled by a passion that feels closer to rage than love. 

Javi takes Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugs on it slightly, as if a gentle pull in the right direction would bring Steve into Javi’s lap. It elicits a startled jump in his ragged breath - and they were long overdue to pull back for a breath - Javi takes the opportune moment to tell Steve to come closer in a voice that one uses to discipline an unruly soldier. 

Javi has to maintain a certain amount of control through aggression lest he let the mask slip and reveal his own nervousness, his curiosity, how little he really knows about how this is supposed to go, and how much he wants to press Steve flat on the mattress and take this slow. 

He finds himself moving hastily to shift himself and his partner - now in work and in sex - into a position where he can jerk them both off simultaneously, cocks loosely held together in his fist. Javi’s thrusts lead and Steve’s follow. 

Neither of them last very long. 

There’s a collective initial sigh of physical relief and a subsequent realization of what had just occurred between the two of them. 

What is he supposed to say? ‘Thanks’? ‘Sleep tight’? Is he supposed to say anything at all?

Murphy gets out of bed disturbing the relative peace in the air. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Javi asks.

“Shower,” Murphy says, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. “Ever heard of one?”

“Thought you didn’t wanna take a shower ‘cause it would make it harder to sleep.”

And that’s how we ended up here. 

“I’m not going to bed like this,” he says, gesturing to the mess he and Javi had both left on his stomach. 

“I don’t wanna go to bed like this either, but it’s four in the goddamn morning.” They’re back to whisper yelling and somehow it feels nice to have that sense of normalcy. 

Murphy stands there waiting for a better argument, but instead he gets Javi storming out of bed straight towards him and dragging him into the shower. 

It’s not romantic, not in the slightest - they argue over the water temperature and who’s taking up too much room. They don’t wash each other’s hair or look at each other with stars in their eyes. But, they leave their clothes on the floor and slip into bed naked, not holding each other, but not wincing when their shoulders touch. 

“Did that really happen last night?” Murphy asks with a yawn, forcing Javi to confront reality after he’s pressed snooze more than once. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “You tell me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think so.” He sounds more confident with every word. 

“Okay. Then, I think so too.” 

[starbuck]

dec it is important to me that you know i'm finishing up my fourth black sails rewatch now and every time i watch this damn show i flip my lid at the appearance of someone wearing green. because of you.

this is me thanking you, to be clear.

I’M SO GLAD!!!!!!!!!!

In retrospect, I feel like my Black Sails clothing color analysis was extremely unhinged, but that doesn’t mean I was WRONG.

Green is truly just SUCH a color in Black Sails. A surefire sign that something is Wrong, though what that thing is may not be immediately obvious. It is a warning of bad things to come (Miranda in her green dress being the most on-the-nose example, but there are many, many others). An ill omen.

… in other words, it’s a LOT of fun!!!!!

[miihho]

Can you please write type of guy headcanons for dae ho and gi hun 🥺? Thank you ❤️

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition boys) nsfw

Dae ho / Player 388

— DAE HO IS THE KIND OF GUY who radiates warmth and loyalty, like a golden retriever. When Dae ho saw you effortlessly take down the two bullies harassing someone else, his eyes gleamed with admiration, captivated by your strength and resolve. As the crowd erupted in applause, he couldn’t help but feel an even deeper respect for you. In that moment, you earned not only their admiration but his as well. (His crush on you was developing gradually.)

—He's the kind of guy who blushes whenever you're near, his nerves getting the best of him as he stammers while talking to you, laughing awkwardly. It's all because you're so sweet to him—and to everyone else, too! He can't help but adore that about you.

—He’s the kind of guy who genuinely wants to get to know you better, not just the surface-level details, but the little things that make you who you are. He asks questions with true curiosity, listens intently, and cherishes every story you share. To him, understanding you isn’t just about filling in gaps—it’s about building a connection that goes beyond the ordinary.

—He’s the kind of guy who secretly gives you his food. One day, after returning from your bed, you noticed some milk on it. Curiosity piqued, you wondered who could have left it there, but hey, free milk, right? So you drank it. If he saw you enjoying it, he'd be totally happy inside, his heart warming at the thought of you drinking it. But if you didn’t, and instead gave it to someone else, he'd feel a little sad, pouting as he quietly watched from afar.

— He’s the type of guy who daydreams about you even in his sleep, a soft smile playing on his lips as he imagines taking you out on a date, giving you flowers, and writing you heartfelt letters. He’s kind and sweet, but also shy around you.

— He’s the type of guy who supports you wholeheartedly, cheering you on through every victory. He wishes and prays that you’ll make it through the next game, and when you do, his heart swells with happiness. He desperately wants to run up to you, hug you tightly, and lift you off the ground, spinning you in the air while admiring you. But his nerves hold him back. Instead, he smiles shyly from a distance, watching as others celebrate your success, his joy quietly battling with his anxiety as he longs to be the one to congratulate you.

—He’s the kind of guy who admires you from afar, his heart skipping a beat every time you smile. When you're talking with your teammates, he can't help but stare at you lovingly, a soft smile creeping onto his face. But when Jung Bae notices his smile and asks about it, he panics, nervously brushing it off as nothing. If Jung Bae catches on to who he's looking at, he’d tease him, leaving him blushing and flustered, unable to hide his feelings.

— He’s also the kind of guy who would protect you no matter the cost. One night, when it was time to sleep, he stayed watch over you, ensuring your safety. In the process, he nearly put himself in danger, but managed to take care of the threat. Just as he thought it was over, he noticed someone about to ambush you from behind. Without hesitation, he shouted your name.

“Y/n!” he called out, grabbing your attention. As you turned to face him, he ran toward you, tackling you to the ground just in time to shield you from a knife aimed at your back. He placed a protective hand on your head, his heart pounding in his chest.

After dealing with the person who tried to harm you, he was consumed with worry, his concern for you evident in every glance. His hands trembled as he checked for any injuries, his eyes scanning your body for bruises. When he finally saw you were okay, relief washed over him, and he couldn’t help but smile, saying softly, “I’m glad you’re alright, Y/n.”

— He’s the kind of guy who, when you're speaking to him, finds it hard to hear anything at all. You're simply glowing, and he's so completely lost in admiration for you, smiling without even realizing it. When a strand of your hair falls across your face, he can't help but gently tuck it behind your ear. The moment you look up at him, his heart skips a beat, and he suddenly becomes acutely aware of what he’s done. Flustered, he starts to stutter out a flurry of excuses, his nervousness betraying him. But all you do is laugh softly, calling him "cute." That single, simple word sends his heart into a frantic race, leaving him breathless and unable to shake the warmth spreading through him.

—He’s the kind of guy who would go to any length to protect you, even if it means hurting the people who’ve hurt you. He’ll keep going until his fists bleed, unable to stop because his care for you runs so deep. He doesn’t want to see you in pain, and his love for you pushes him to act without thinking of the consequences. Even when you beg him to stop, he’s torn, unable to hold back the intensity of his emotions. But deep down, you know that right? That he just cares for you more than anything.

—He’s the kind of guy who’ll do whatever it takes to cheer you up when you’re feeling down. When you're crying, he'll be right there, comforting you with soft, reassuring words like, "I’ll be here for you," and "It’s okay, everything’s going to be alright." He’ll pull you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm embrace, rubbing your back gently as he holds you close, offering a quiet strength that makes you feel safe. His presence is enough to ease the weight on your heart, as he promises to always be there for you, no matter what.

—He’s the kind of guy who, when in love, will sneakily try to get closer to you, even if it means "accidentally" bumping into people in the crowd. Just being near you makes him happy, and the slightest touch from you sends a thrill through him. If your eyes meet by accident, he’ll hold your gaze for a second, but then quickly look away, his face turning bright red with embarrassment. When he tries to glance at you again and you catch him, his heart races uncontrollably. He’s sure he even heard you chuckle, and in that moment, he can’t handle it anymore—embarrassed and flustered, he tries to hide in the shadows, wishing he could escape how you make him feel. (You have no idea how much you’re making him nervous.)

—He’s the kind of guy who would shower your face with kisses, making you giggle and laugh, completely captivated by the joy he brings. He’s also the type who’s hopeless at flirting, but he still gives it a shot, despite knowing he’s not great at it. When he catches you staring into his eyes, his confidence crumbles, and he can’t find his words, stammering as his mind goes blank. And when you laugh, a soft, teasing chuckle, it only makes him more flustered, his heart racing as he awkwardly tries to recover, unable to stop the warmth spreading across his face. (ARGEUWHRAHHH)

— When he's in a relationship with you, he's the kind of guy who'll ask for a good luck kiss before every game you play together.

—He’s the kind of guy you’ll wake up to, his comforting voice gently pulling you from your sleep. “Good morning, baby,” he’ll say, his smile already softening his features. “Morning, sunshine,” or “Good morning, sweetheart, did you sleep well?” he’ll ask, his voice warm and full of affection as he watches you slowly wake up.

—He’s the kind of guy who would tenderly kiss the places you’re most insecure about, as if to remind you of how beautiful you truly are. He’s the one who won’t stop kissing you, pulling you back every time you try to pull away, as if he can’t let go of the warmth you bring.

—He’s also the kind of guy who craves you in the purest, most innocent ways. He craves the chance to say goodnight and press a soft kiss to your forehead, to tell you how much he adores you, especially when you feel at your lowest. He doesn’t need anything more or less—just being near you, sharing quiet moments together, is all he could ever want.

—He’s the kind of guy who kisses you slowly, with so much passion that it feels like time itself has paused. To him, every moment matters, and he wants to make it last—pressing his lips softly against yours, savoring the closeness. His eyes remain closed, his hands resting firmly on your waist as he pulls you closer, as if he can’t bear to let go. When he finally pulls away, his gaze locks with yours, filled with love so deep it leaves you breathless. And just when you think it’s over, he leans in to kiss you again.

—He’s the kind of guy who would stay outside your house all night the moment you mentioned your parents weren’t home. You said it in a teasing, seductive tone, hoping he’d catch the hint—but instead, his protective instincts took over completely. Without a second thought, he made it his mission to ensure your safety. The cool breeze and late hours didn’t faze him; his only focus was making sure nothing could harm you.

—He’s the kind of guy who values your comfort above all else, always asking for your consent to ensure you’re at ease. When you overstimulate him, soft whines and gasps escape his lips, his breathing uneven as he tries to handle the intensity. He’s incredibly careful, his fear of hurting you evident in the way he constantly checks in, asking if you’re okay. If you show even the slightest discomfort, he immediately stops, gently comforting you with soothing words and touches. Only when you’re ready does he proceed, moving slowly and tenderly.

—He’s the kind of guy who would be endlessly obedient for you, hanging on your every word just to make you happy. When you call him a “good boy,” his cheeks flush a soft pink, and he can’t help but feel a swell of pride, as if earning your praise is the greatest accomplishment. The way he gets all shy and bashful in response only makes the moment sweeter.

—He’s also the kind of guy who whispers a breathless “please” when you tease him, his voice trembling with both desperation and longing. When you refuse to let him cum, he’ll keep pleading, his tone growing needier, begging you to finally let him release cum since you've been edging him for hours straight.

—He’s the kind of guy who moans a lot and would be needy for you. Like he's breathy and full of unrestrained moans as pleasure overwhelms him. His voice, low and husky, spills out between gasps as he murmurs how good you feel. For example.

In the cramped confines of a public bathroom stall, he tries desperately to not make a sound. His trembling hand rests on your head, fingers tangling in your hair. He was desperately trying to keep quiet, not wanting anyone outside the stall to discover what you were doing. But you decided to tease him, to push him just a little further. Holding his gaze, you slowly ran your tongue over the tip of his cock, maintaining eye contact that had him on the verge of losing all composure.

“Baby, please...” he begged, his tone barely audible but dripping with raw desperation. His hips bucked slightly, seeking more friction, his body betraying how badly he needed release.

You smirked, letting your lips hover over his slick, aching member, your warm breath teasing his already overstimulated skin. “Hm? What’s that?” you teased, maintaining a deliberate slowness. “You’ll have to speak up.”

His head fell back, and a quiet whine escaped him, “I can’t—please, I need it so bad baby, please let me cum... Want you. I want you so bad.” he whimpered, the faint sound of his soft, needy whines filled the stall, his breathing uneven and ragged as he clung to what little composure he had left. His head tilted back against the wall, his lips parted, and his cheeks flushed as he whimpered softly.

His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, his flushed face and sweat-dampened skin making him look utterly undone. The way he squirmed and whimpered under your control had you tempted to keep teasing him, but his broken whispers and the raw adoration in his eyes made you relent.

"hng...—oh fuck," he gasped, his breath uneven as you gave in at last. "Your mouth feels so good baby, so damn perfect, fuck keep going just like that baby." His praise spilled out uncontrollably, barely coherent as you pushed him closer and closer to the edge.

—Hes also the kind of guy who cries during sex. (Something about men crying is just hgnngjdhe)

“Baby, please stop..” he whimpered, his voice trembling with the weight of his plea. “It’s too much… please, it’s too much.” His hands weakly gripped your waist, trying to stop you, but his body trembled with each movement, and yet there was no escape from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Aww, sweetie,” you cooed, not slowing down. “Just one more round, mkay? I know You can handle it for me."

“N-no, please… it’s too much… I don’t think I can…take it,” he said, his tear-filled eyes locking with yours, his flushed face streaked with the weight of his emotions. The sight of him so vulnerable made your heart ache, and without hesitation, you gently wiped away the tears rolling down his cheeks with the pad of your thumb.

“Aww, don’t cry my love,” you whispered softly, your voice tender as you leaned in, brushing your lips against his forehead. “You’re my good boy, right? You’re doing so well for me. Just a little more, baby.”

“Fine… just one more.” he said, his voice soft and shaky. The way he melted under your touch, still willing to give more despite how overwhelmed he felt. (You made him cum multiple times 🫶🏻)

I decided to do dae ho first cuz he cute(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) HAPPY NEW YEAR

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 3 | masterlist

-

It’s not unusual for someone to mistake you for the baby’s mama.

How could someone not, at least for a moment? When you take the baby to the grocery store, older people gush over him babbling in his stroller, eager to shower him with compliments in baby-talk or tell you how much you resemble the little tyke. After hearing the same comment for the umpteenth time, you tire of correcting people by saying you’re the babysitter only to watch their face fall, somewhat mortified and feeling as though their comment should’ve been directed to the baby’s actual mother. Which isn’t you. 

It’s less typical for someone to mistake you for John’s wife, though that does happen from time to time.

You’ve become a fixture around the neighbourhood since John hired you at the beginning of the summer, and over the weeks, the other nannies and the stay-at-home moms have started to gradually warm up to you. Before long, you’re being invited on coffee runs and playdates with some of the other women, always careful to ask for John’s permission before bringing his baby into a stranger’s house.

“Just text me the address and their names,” he requests while you stand awkwardly in front of him, John sitting on the bed to finish buttoning up his shirt and fixing his watch around his wrist. You would’ve been fine standing on the other side of the door while he finished changing, but he insisted on inviting you in.

“I will,” you promise, nodding along with his words.

“And call me if you don’t feel comfortable. I’ll come get the two of you right away if you need me.”

You swallow. Nod again.

The first time you take the baby for a playdate with a couple of the moms from the park, one catches you in the act of texting John the address of the house as he requested. “Hubby wants to know where you are, huh?”

“Oh,” you choke out, face heating up. “He’s not—”

“Not a control freak, I know. They’re all like that.” Her smile is ebullient, rolling her eyes like you’re in on a joke together when you most assuredly are not. “Why don’t you share your location with him? Mine’s the same way. Here—I’ll show you how.”

She takes your phone and tap-taps something and suddenly you see it in the notifications of your conversation with John. If you bite your lip instead of correcting her assumption about the nature of your and John’s relationship, that’s for you and you alone to know. Your rationale is that any explanation will just make things tense; it’s not like you haven’t seen it happen before. 

It’s far more concerning when John doesn’t correct those assumptions. Particularly when you’re standing right next to him. 

Like at the local water park on a particularly hot weekend, wading in the kiddy pool with the baby nestled tight against your chest in his little swim trunks and floppy hat only for an employee to ask John if his wife would like something to drink. 

“Iced coffee, love?” John asks, taking your stupefied silence as a yes. “Nothing for me, mate. Cheers.” 

Your head spins like a top on that thought until a good while later. The server hands you a glass of iced coffee with condensation already dripping down the sides and John thanks him for you, taking the baby from you and pulling you to his side. You drink your coffee quietly with your thigh flush with his under the water, gripping the glass harder when his free hand squeezes around your waist, laughing at something another parent said to him.

It’s so over for you. There’s no coming back from this. 

The sight of someone of John’s size, a bulky, military man with arms of pure steel dusted with dark hairs, cradling a tiny, chubby baby with a thatch of similar dark hair on his head and big cheeks and roly poly arms unlocks something primal in you. An old, buried need. 

In the family changing room, you stand under an ice cold shower until it breaks the fever slowly consuming you. All you can do is hope it takes. 

In the evening, you sit out on the porch with John at the back of the house until the crickets swell with song, the moon a half-crescent in the sky. A cool breeze makes your shoulders lift a little, huddling into your body to keep warm. 

It’s hard to keep your eyes on the view in front of you and off the man sitting beside you when they want so badly to be running over him. He’s changed out of his work clothes into a soft pair of sweatpants and an old threadbare shirt, the sage green fabric faded after years of being run through the washing machine. It clings to his biceps and the soft pudge of his stomach, a layer of fat over the hard muscle beneath. 

A cigarette dangles from his fingers, thick wrist perched on the arm of the adirondack chair. Every so often he lifts it to his lips for a puff, always breathing out in the opposite direction from you. Considerate of your health, at least, if not his own. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks before ashing his cigarette, and your bottom lip purses when you turn your head to look at him because you thought you were doing a good job suppressing your shivers. 

You stare at him, confused. He cocks an eyebrow at your questioning stare and deliberately glances down, waiting until you notice the way your nipples are protruding through your white tank top. You forgot that you’d taken your bra off earlier for a bit of relief and hadn’t yet had a chance to put it back on. 

“Oh my god,” you squeak, crossing your arms to hide as much as possible, humiliation flooding through you. “I’m so sorry—that’s so—I-I’m so sorry.”

John makes a rough sound when he rises to his feet, knees cracking as he does. “S’alright, hun. Lemme get you something to put on.”

The screen door creaks when he goes back inside briefly to fetch something only to come back a few seconds later with a big, cotton sweater that reeks of him. It looks well loved, some remnant of his younger years, and even from a distance, you can smell the distinct smoky aroma clinging to the fabric. 

When he kneels in front of you, you nearly go cross-eyed at the realisation that even on his knees, he’s as tall as you. The bulk of his waist forces your legs to spread around him. 

“C’mon, arms up,” John commands, barely waiting until you’ve raised your arms above your head before helping guide your head and arms into the right holes. 

Dragging the sweater down the way he does forces it to rub over your nipples, sending a shock through you. If you had any less self-control, your teeth might actually chatter together. 

“There we go,” he says, fluffing out the sweater around your waist before resting his hands on the tops of your thighs, the gesture coming so naturally to him that you doubt he’s even noticed the placement of his hands. “Much better. That’ll warm you up.”

He isn't wrong. You’ve already worked up a sweat. 

Late night rain.

It comes down in buckets, a dark slate rapping hard against the window pane. A bolt of lightning flickers across the horizon off in the distance. White striations across an otherwise dark sky. About thirty seconds later, thunder rumbles. 

You peek from between the blinds, chewing your lip nervously. You’ve never driven in rain this bad, but with supper done and the dishes washed, there’s no excuse for you to stay any longer. Still, the rain comes down so heavily that despite your timidity, you briefly contemplate asking John if you can stay a little longer. At least until it lets up a bit; until your headlights won’t blind you reflecting off the puddles on the drive home. 

Someone else pulls the blinds further apart.

“There’s no way in hell you’re going out in that,” John says from behind you, practically growling his words. Daring you to contradict him. 

You glance over your shoulder to find him right there at your back, staring out the window. He’s so close that you can smell the red sauce on his flannel from dinner and make out the flecks of grey in his beard that are almost masked by the darker hairs. 

“It’s not…that bad…”

“Sweetheart, don’t piss me off,” he warns.

The blinds shuttle back together with a clatter when you finally let go of them. 

“I could—I could take the couch,” you offer. 

“Sweetheart,” John sighs, looking down at you meaningfully.

“What?” you ask, confused.

“I’m not gonna take the big, comfy bed and leave you with the couch.” When you open your mouth to protest, he cuts you off. “And don’t even try arguing. I won’t hear it.”

There’s not much you can say to dissuade him after that. The furrow of his brow lets you know he’s made up his mind; no ifs, ands, or buts. Besides, there’s a not-so-secret part of you that’s relieved that you don’t have to drive home in this weather. You’re an average driver on a good day. You don’t need your last moments before shuffling off this mortal coil to involve hydroplaning on the highway before ramming into the guardrail. 

John gives you a shirt of his to change into for after your shower, which you spend far too long in, scrubbing your body with his shower gel and quivering under the warm water. When you pull it on, you bring the collar up to your nose to smell. The same patent smoky scent, musky like ambergris and leather. Intoxicating. It makes the blood rush through your ear like a conch shell, the ocean swirling behind your eardrum. 

You hadn’t asked for underwear, content at first to keep on the same pair, but after your shower, you cringe at the thought of putting your day-old panties back on. Besides, his shirt is long enough to cover anything indecent. 

He sits on the edge of the bed when you come out, the concern on his brow melting away at the sight of you. 

“Practically a dress on you, isn’t it?” John says, voice a little wondrous. His eyes drag over you, tip to toe. 

You fiddle with the ends of it. “…Are you sure you want me to take the bed?” 

“Wouldn’t be fair. It’s yours for the night.” His lips quirk up at the corners when you frown. “Don’t worry about me—I’ve slept in worse places before.”

“Like where?” you ask dubiously.

“Tents. Abandoned buildings. Shacks. In the back of a moving van a few times. You wouldn’t believe half the places we used to make camp. Definitely no place for pretty girls like you.”

His condescending tone vaguely annoys you, but it’s hard to dig into your irritation when he thumbs the edge of the shirt you’re wearing and you realise that he’s just a few raised inches away from noticing that you don’t have any panties on. You should’ve just put your old ones back on, but it’s far too late now. 

You clear your throat instead. “We could…um…we could share.” 

You don’t know what possesses you to offer to share the bed, but the words are already gone, out of your mouth and in the air. John cocks an eyebrow.

“Unless you don’t want to,” you amend. 

“Don’t know about that, sweetheart,” he rasps. “…I snore like a bear.”

“That’s okay. I’m a pretty deep sleeper.”

John scrutinises you a bit longer, looking for any sign of hesitancy. You know he’d squash your offer in a second if he found any wariness in your gaze. 

“Alright,” he finally concedes, letting go of your shirt and slapping his thighs. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you wake up and can’t fall back asleep because of my snoring.”

After his shower, during which you lie on your side facing away from the bathroom door, stomach fraught with nerves as you consider the fact that he’s naked in the ensuite, you hear him come out and rummage around in the dresser for a change of clothes. You lie beside him with your stomach twisted in knots, your hands shoved under the pillow and staring resolutely at the wall. 

The appropriateness of sleeping in the same bed beside your boss isn't lost on you, but you're too far into this now.

The bed dips when he settles onto the other side, and the sudden absence of light when he switches the bedside lamp off nearly makes you cheep. 

He breathes heavily, you notice, particularly when he finally falls asleep. It’s a deep, rumbling sound—not entirely unlike a bear, though you can’t really confirm that for certain seeing as how you’ve never slept beside a bear before. 

Those are the thoughts that would signal the approach of sleep if you weren’t soon to be engulfed by it. 

Sometime in the middle of the night, you wake up to a rough hand stroking your back leisurely. There’s a hard chest under you, your cheek propped up on a pillowy pec that rises and falls with his breaths. Sleep bobs around in you like a toulouse decanter. You struggle to keep an eye open, certain that there’s something you need to tend to, but then his hand slides down your back again to curve over your rump and sleep drags you back down. 

You wake up again to your breath wafting back into your mouth, your face shoved into the crook of a man’s neck. Humid, hot. You’re lipping at the skin of his neck, little tongue darting out to lap up a bead of sweat, salty on your tongue. 

Your cunt pulses against his leg, toes curling when John drags his hand up your thigh and hitches it higher up around his waist. 

“Baby?” he groans, his voice still rusty from sleep. The sound is a rough burr up your spine. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. “Couldn’ get comfy.”

“You hot?” he asks.

The denial on the tip of your tongue slips back down your throat when he plants his foot on the bed and draws his leg up, pressing the meat of his thigh into your throbbing sex. 

“Here, lemme help you—” he groans, reaching down to ruck up your shirt, dragging it up over your breasts and helping manoeuvre your arms out of the holes. It gets tossed off the bed onto the floor. 

Now your breasts are flat on his chest, smushed against his ribcage. It registers somewhere in the back of your head as inappropriate, but sleep pushes that thought away, focusing instead on the discomfort of moving around when you just want to settle back down and go back to bed. 

It must be the heat making you act this way. 

“Shit—sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes, shifting under you. “M’hot too.”

He plants a hand on your ass and heaves you up his chest, giving him enough room to wiggle out of his boxers. It pushes your breasts right into his face, your nipples mere inches from his mouth. When his tongue pokes out to wet his upper lip, it nicks your pebbled nipple. 

A hard length presses against your butt when you’re slid back down, the tip wet when it catches against your skin. 

“Jus’ ignore it, sweetie,” John mumbles, petting a hand down your back. 

You lie like that for a while, splayed over his body. Want simmering just under your skin. Flustered and exhausted all at once, sleep-drained; not a drop of strength in your muscles. 

The heat is just—

Scorching. Dizzying. You feel featherbrained, slipping in and out of sleep, biting off the whimpers that threaten to crawl up your throat when John tucks his hands into the crevice of your thighs to wrench them apart, spreading them around his hips again. 

Distantly, you remember that the man under you is at least twenty years your senior. Your employer at that. A man now palming your butt, sinking his fingers into the flesh and rumbling low in his throat. 

It’s wrong—flagrantly wrong. You know that you should say something, that you should get up and tell him that you’re going to sleep on the couch instead. But your tongue is too thick for your mouth. And your thoughts are a sticky paste. The pulse between your thighs empties out all the common sense from your head. 

His palms are slick on your skin. 

Your breathing grows shallow when a hard length suddenly pushes between your thighs as well. 

When the mushroomed head nudges at your opening, you flinch, heart thumping ferociously against your chest. 

“John—John—” you breathe, panicked. As if to warn him. As if he weren’t planting both feet on the bed and lifting his hips. 

As if it wasn’t his hands, warm on your waist, dragging you down onto the shaft spearing into you. 

Your blood is molten hot in your veins. Sticky hands and sticky fingers curl into his chest hair. Your head thumps against his pecs, too weak to hold it up, lipping at the damp skin of his chest. 

“It hurts—” you bleat, tears pricking at the backs of your eyes. 

“I know, baby, I know,” John pants. He draws his hips back just to press forward again, deeper this time. Filling you up more than before. “I’m sorry, baby—I can’t, it’s just…too good. Shit.”

Resolve in tatters. Shattered like his willpower, like his determination not to fuck the girl twenty years his junior sleeping beside him in his bed. 

His hips pump up into yours, bouncing you in his lap. Each thrust plunging his cock deeper into your pussy. It’d be painful if you weren’t so wet, but you’re dripping, arousal making you leak around his shaft and slickening his way. 

Sleep still rattles around in your brain, but not even the fog of sleep can shake the ever intensifying realisation that you’re fucking your boss. No two ways around it—breasts naked against his hirsute chest; pussy wet and stuffed to the hilt with a big dick. Knocked senseless by it. 

The veins of his cock drag over the viscid walls of your cunt with every thrust. He must like the involuntary noises you make because he loses his rhythm when you cry out, growling out a string of unintelligible curses. His body feels bigger like this somehow, biceps and forearms bulging where they’re wrapped around your waist, hips forcing your legs to spread wide around him, the ache sinking deep into your muscle, into your bones.  

When you look up at him, his eyes are more hooded than usual, the blue of his irises so dark that they’re almost black. 

“Such a good girl,” he grunts, big arms like steel bands around your waist, holding you tight to his chest so you have nowhere to run. “Jus’ let…jus’ let daddy come and—oh Christ, fuck, fuck…—jus’ lemme come and we’ll go back to bed, okay, sweetie?”

“I’m gonna…” you pant, trailing off when he gets a little rough, pumping harder up into you. The sound of your pussy squelching around his length makes your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open. 

“Yeah, yeah, you—you come too, baby. Jus’ need to take the edge off, both of us.”

You squeal when he reaches a hand down to dig his fingers into your butt cheek and it makes you tense up, walls tightening around his dick. One well-placed swat hard enough to make the flesh of your ass jiggle and you come, clenching up so tight that his next few thrusts are slowed by your spasming walls, forcing him to really cram his cock into your hole. 

“Christ, that’s cute,” John growls, his pupils blown out. 

It hurts to come that hard; makes your belly cramp up and everything. Whatever gibberish spills from your mouth gets lost in the aftermath. 

That’s when the temperature goes from hot to blistering. The muscles of his thighs tense, straining with his impending release. Even his grip around your waist gets tighter, his self-control steamrolled under his approaching climax, oblivious to the way you squeal and squirm when it threads the delicate needle of being too much. 

“Sorry, baby,” he apologises, voice treading gravel. “M’gonna mess your pussy up a bit—”

“Wait—wait—” you gasp, trying fruitlessly to lift yourself up, his arms keeping you pinned tight to his chest. “You’re gonna—John, you’re gonna come inside me—”

His hips thrust up hard at your words, one last rough pump that has him digging his heels into the mattress and clenching his jaw, the veins in his neck protruding. You feel it flood inside you, hot spurts of cum right up against your womb. He curses when he comes, eyelids sliding shut, lost in the sensation of emptying himself into you. 

A few last, punishing thrusts that make your teeth clack together. More heat spurting into you. A murmured oh fuck before his legs slide back down the bed, spreading out over the mattress. 

The blanket is somewhere at the foot of the bed, all scrunched up and nearly dangling off the edge. You only start to shiver when the sweat on your back finally begins to cool. 

When he pulls you off his cock, you whimper, a hot flash snaking through you. Oh Christ did he plug you up good. Stringy, viscous cum leaks from your hole, leaving a little puddle on his thigh when you slide off his chest and to the side a bit. 

“Oh baby,” he tuts softly, reaching between your legs to feel where you’re wet and a little swollen. “Sorry, sweetheart…wanna get cleaned up?”

“No…” you rasp, so dazed that you can’t even lift your cheek off his chest. 

Exhaustion has never ridden you this hard before, but considering the circumstances…—perhaps you’re lucky to be conscious at all, is all you mean. There’s not a chance of you having enough energy to do anything as rigorous as showering though. 

“Okay, baby. Little kiss?” John asks in a murmur, lifting your head up by your chin and swooping down for a kiss. Not even giving you enough time to process his words before his mouth is on yours. 

His lips glide slick against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like he needs a good, deep kiss to ground him. A wet twisting of tongues; a thick finger stroking up your neck. He can’t stop touching you. Running a hand up your spine and curving it back down over your ass. Featherlight touches meant to calm you down. His kisses grow sticky, lingering; each one almost the last until he pulls you in for another. 

“Go back to sleep, okay?” John says, still speaking low enough to push you back under. He smooths his hand down your back again. 

You fall back asleep with a load in your belly and your head in a tizzy. The you of tomorrow is going to have a lot to contend with from the you of tonight.

[seungfl0wer]

*Our Toy*

Paring: OT8 x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut (literally just straight porn no real plot)

Warnings: Multiple orgasms, Multiple partners (basically Polly), Restraints, slight degrading, Lots of pet names, Creampie, unprotected sex, face fucking, Double Penetration, oral (both M/F receiving), tit smacks, overstimulation uhm?? I know I definitely probably missed some

Side note wrote this 2 days apart cause of work and I was half asleep for some of it so I hope it came out not jumbled around like it seems in my head.

Kink(s): Free Use + Sharing is caring lol

˚ ༘♡Master List (Here) for the 1K Event

(The highly requested part two is here!)

-🩵

You have basically just become the boys’s fuck toy. What started off as a thought with bangchan ended up with you being free use for the rest of the members. What a good leader right? Letting them have fun with you to ease their stress, i mean in his own words “how can i keep such a beautiful thing like you only for myself?” Is Chan your boyfriend? Yeah. And the others? They basically are too. Are you complaining though? 8 attractive men horning after you wanting all your attention and love?

——————

You were sprawled out on the couch staring blankly at the tv as Felix laid on the other side of you. He had his arms lazily draped around you half watching the tv half asleep. As his eyes flickered open and close you moved yourself feeling yourself falling off the couch. You pushed your body back into the half awake boy, ass pushing firmly against his pelvis. He left out a soft whimper at the feeling, you not meaning it in anyway besides trying to get situated. He kissed your neck sweetly his arms pulling you into him even more as he slowly started to hump you. “Ah- lix” you said voice almost a whisper.

“I’m sorry do you want me to stop?” He asks his voice hazy. You shook your head no making him sigh out of relief. He placed his hands on your hips pushing his ever growing bulge against your clothed ass. His kisses were becoming sloppier as he started to suck at small spots. Both of you letting out barely audible moans at the friction. “Lix” you whimpered becoming needy. He ran his hands over your body, they caressed your breast playing with your nipples. “How do you get me so horny so fast” he whined against your skin.

His words made you giggle a little moving your hips back to meet his movements “same reason you get me soaked so fast” your words made his head reel. He pushed down his pants sprinting his cock free as he pulled yours down just enough to push his cock In. It nestled between your folds as he kept rutting into you. Your slick lubing him up as he moved. “Shit- there’s- there’s no way I’m lasting long.” He whined out. He gripped you tightly as he moved between your soaked lips.

As he slid in bottoming out you heard a door open, jisung rubbing his eyes as he came out for a drink. Felix didn’t stop though he started to move slowly but deeply into you letting out Low groans. Jisung raised an eyebrow, sipping on his drink he made his way to the living room. His eyes lit up seeing the sight below him “shit- you two are hot as fuck.” He smirked. “Lixie you sound like you’re bout ready to bust” he teased the other boy.

“Agh well- yeah she’s so- fuck- fucking warm” he said rolling his head back to look at the boy “she cum yet?” He questioned coming around to the other side. Looking at you both for an answer. “We just- started” you said breathily. Jisung smirk grew “let me help then. I mean Felix is already so close beautiful let me help you cum”

Before he even had an answer from either of you he was pulling down your shorts more. Greeted by the sight of how soaked you were, his band mates cock fucking into you so nicely. Fuck. Fuck did you look so good. He attached his lips to your clit quickly like a hungry animal he started to suck. Your head flung back giving Felix a better angle to kiss your neck. As he pumped harshly into you, the man below you eating you like a feral animal your high was approaching fast. “Jisung she’s close- god her pretty pussy is clenching so tightly around me- fucking hell she’s gonna milk me good.”

Jisung groaned hearing this moving his hand down to pump his own member as he kept giving your clit all the attention it needed. Felix pounding sloppily now into you as his high was close too. The scene unfolding was straight out of some porno. “Cu- fuck I’m cuming!” You practically screamed out cuming all over Felix’s cock as Jisung lapped up as much of your juices as he could. Felix was quick behind you as he reached his high fast feeling your warmth coat his cock as your walls clenched tightly around him. He came deep inside of you his body stuttering.

Jisung continued to suck at your overly sensitive clit before moving himself “want to stay in with me lix?” He asked the boy who was breathing heavily behind you. “Fuck yeah” he panted. He moved you a bit trying to keep Felix buried deep in you. As he got you positioned he let his cock rub against you spiting on his tip before meeting it at your entrance. Your head was spinning with so much pleasure and of course you weren’t gonna protest. He pushed into you slowly all three of you moaning out.

The feeling of Felix still inside of you, him being limp now but the extra girth driving you insane. Jisungs movements were fast and deep pushing around Felix’s cum with every thrust. “You two are so fucked out it’s so cute” he said his voice a bit shaky. “Y/n fuck you feel so good” he whined out. Felix brought his hand up to play with your clit as jisung leaned down to kiss you sloppily. His tongue instantly darting into your mouth as he sucked your lip between his teeth. Biting it ever so gently. “Jisung!” You moaned into his mouth. Your hands flung around him nails digging into his back.

“Feel good?” He said between kissed. You nod yes as he continued “gon cum on my cock next beautiful? Please- let me feel it” he moaned out letting his body fall to yours as his thrust were becoming erratic. “Ji- close ah just like that. Felix don’t stop” you barked out at the feeling. Body shaking intensely as your high crashed over your walls now clenching around both of the men. Jisungs body stuttered at the feeling dumping all his cum deep inside of you. It mixing with Felix’s and your owns.

Felix went to grab a rag to help you get all cleaned up the 3 of you sitting there heads still reeling. “How about I order some food?” Felix offers. You nod slowly laying your head down on Jisungs shoulder. “Food sounds perfect.” You said eyes half awake.

——————

Sitting in the kitchen arguing back and forth with Minho you rolled your eyes at him. “Oh whatever” you say getting up to walk out before he’s pinning you against the wall. “Excuse me?” He said eyebrows furrowed looking at you. “Is that how you talk to me now hmm? Has it been that long since I’ve punished you?” He spat brining his hand up to your face to make you look at him. You choked out a small “I” before he was pulling you down to the guest room.

He pushed you to the bed back hitting the soft mattress as he rummaged for something. Your eyes widened as you saw him pulling out the restraints. “Minho- I’m sorry” you stutter out “to late kitten” he said with a smirk “gonna ruin you till you remember who you’re talking too” he said restraining your limbs. He pull down your pants, ripping your shirt off before getting on top of you. He had already pulled his pants down you not realizing it until his cock was staring right at you.

“Open that brat mouth!” He growled making you whimper but quickly doing as he said. He gave you no mercy pushing all his length into you. He roughly fucked your face, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gagged around his him making him chuckle “you can take it all I know you can kitten” he coo’d. He thrusted in and out of your mouth drool falling down your chin. “Fuck- there’s my kitten” he said in a low groan. His head fell back as he used your mouth mercilessly he could feel his high coming but he didn’t wanna cum just yet. Not before he could burry his cock deep into you.

He pulled out of your mouth with a popping sound, positioning himself at your entrance he looked up at you with hooded eyes. Seeing your face covered in drool made him smirk “such a messy kitten.” He said wiping it away. As he did so he slid his cock ever so slowly into you, hitting deep. He almost always could find the right angel to hit your G-spot. He started to fuck you sloppily knowing his high was already close. He slapped your breast slightly leaving a nice red print before he moved his hand to your throat.

You moaned at the pain, it feeling so pleasurable to you. Your walls clenched around him making him grunt in response “ah kitten gonna cum already?” He teased when you didn’t respond he let another smack to your breast. “I asked you a question” he growled out “uh fuck- yes m’sorry” you replied quickly this time. “Who says you’re allowed to?” He grinned that devilish bunny grin before drilling you hard. Your head was so empty at this point “p-lease” you cried out feeling yourself reaching your high.

He thrusted in a few more times before spilling his cum deep inside of you. His thrusts almost all but stopped making you whine. “Awe did kitten not get to cum? Maybe next time you’ll think twice about picking an argument with me.” He stated as he pulled out of you. The emptiness leaving you a whinny mess “no please-“ you cry out a pout plastering your face. “Don’t worry someone will come help you.” He said as he snapped a picture of you sending it to the group chat titled: Free Use.

“Maybe I’ll come get you when they’re done” he said as he shut the lights off closing the door behind him. You were so frustrated at this point pulling at the straps. A few minutes had passed before you heard someone enter the room it was hyunjin coming to see you. “Hey there my love” he hummed looking over your body. “Whatcha do to make Minho do this?” He said teasing you, he quickly leaned down to kiss your soft lips. “He said I was giving him attitude.”You pouted.

“He’s probably right you do, do that a lot” he chuckled kissing you again “he didn’t let you cum did he?” He asked now making his way to your heated core. You shook your head no looking as the man moved “ah want me to help you love?” He said his voice soft. You nod “please” your voice barely audible at this point. He smiled unzipping his pants he had on, discarding them somewhere in the room. “Gonna help me cum too?” He said softly as he ran the cock head up and down your still soaked folds. “Y-yes” you stuttered out.

“That’s my girl” he said getting his body underneath of you. He angled himself just right before pushing up into you. His arms wrapped around your body pulling you as close as possible before fucking you like som horny rabbit. “Ah hyune” you moaned out his body already twitching at the feeling. “Shit- the picture he sent out was so fucking hot-“ he said pulling you into a sloppy make out session. “I could- could have came just at the sight- fuck y/n you’re so fucking hot” he moaned out his words running together.

He moved his hands down to your chest playing with your nipples as he sucked one breast. Hyunjin was always so passionate and loving during sex. When situations were like this though? He was extra loving. His goals was always to just please you, make you cum first and then finish himself. Normally when you came is when he was letting himself go.

Hyunjin pulled away from the kiss pulling your bottom lip between his teeth with a soft bite. “God- y/n I can’t get over how perfect you are” he said through breaths. He ran a hand down to your clit now making perfect circles as he thrusted sloppily into you. He bottomed out hitting your g-spot swiftly. You both let out sinful moans, the sounds of you both filled the room in such harmony. “Gon cum on my cock pretty? Gon make a mess?”

You nod yes your mind completely and utterly (and literally) fucked. Your mind was so blank from the pleasure and over stimulation your body shook. “That’s it my love cum all over me, I’ll fill this cunt in return hm?” He rambled. He leaned back a bit as he watched you take his cock in and out so nicely. His high coming fast as he felt your walls clench around him. “That’s it- fuck yes- cum for me baby” he groaned.

Your head flung back finally getting the release you so desperately needed. Gushing around his cock he spilled deep into you filling you with all of his. He wrapped his arms around you kissing you lovingly. “You ok love?” He asked trying to still catch his breath. “Mhm” you nodded giving his cheek a soft peck. The door cracked open “she still in there?” A familiar voice asked “I don’t know dude go in and check.” Another voice said. Hyunjin chuckled a bit “I think you have some more hungry men coming for you.”

As moved away from you, your head still in the clouds from him he kissed your forehead. “I’ll tell them to go easy” he said sweetly chuckling as he opened the door “be gentle guys” he said patting the two younger boys. “I will I don’t know about this freak though” Jeongin laughed poking at Seungmin.

“Look at what that bratty little mouth gets you into” Seungmin laughed looking down at you. “Maybe this was her plan?” Jeongin added. The other boy shrugged at his words “probably she’s a little whore” he said leaning down to you. “Didn’t ask Minho about the restraints?” He added. Jeongin nodded “yeah, he said to let her off but to make sure she’s ruined first” he grinned.

Jeongin went to untie your legs Seungmin having other ideas first. He dropped his pants straddling your chest like Minho had before. “Open up pup I got you a bone” he chuckled at his words. Your mind was still in space your mouth opening out of reflex. “Good girl” he said pushing the tip into your mouth. “Don’t you wanna untie her hands first?” Jeongin asked looking up at the other man. He shook his head quickly “no she can keep her hands tied until I have my fun”

Seungmin was using your mouth, fucking into you not as rough as Minho but just about. He was hitting the back of your throat precum dripping from it. He took your head pushing it roughly as he fucked into you. Jeongin on the other hand was leaving sweet kisses to your thighs as he pulled his own pants down. He grinned his cock up and down your folds “you’re such a mess baby, you’ve taken what 2 loads already? You really are gonna be full.” He said his eyes half open.

“By the time we are done she’s gonna be gushing with all of our cum.” He hissed. You moaned against his cock eyes fluttering open and close. The three of you letting out soft moans and grunts. Jeongin started to play with your clit making your back arch and legs shake a bit. You were so overstimulated already you didn’t know if you could take it anymore. “Fuck you’re taking my cock so well such a good little pup hm?” He said sliding his hand down your neck and back up.

“I can’t hold out any longer dude” Jeongin said as he pushed himself into you. You let out a muffled moan around seungmins cock making the man’s head fall backwards in pleasure. “Fuck-“ he spat out. Jeongins movements were fast and sloppy. His thrusts spilling the others’s cum out of you. The sound of his ball slapping your wet cunt filled the air. You were getting used so well.

“Ah fuck baby you’re so fucking wet” jeongin moaned out. “Yeah she likes being out little fuck toy huh? Like us using all your holes like this? Filthy little mutt” Seungmin babble on. You could only reply with a moan in confirmation. When people say your mind goes blank from pleasure this is what they mean. Your head was so empty only thoughts of them. “Fuck dude I’m close, let’s switch” Seungmin asked pulling out of your mouth. Drool ran down your chin, lips swollen from all the abuse to your mouth.

Jeongin nodded switching spots with the other man. Jeongin wiped the drool from you kissing your forehead softly. He removed your hand restrains letting your them fall to your sides. “Wanna open for me baby?” He coo’d. You were about to nod but Seungmin had mercilessly pushed deep into you fast. Bottoming out quick as he hit the back of your walls. Hit cock head hitting your g-spot as he pushed in and out of you. You left out the most desperate whine making jeongin smirk. “Give me your hands baby I’ll keep you here.”

Jeongin interlocked your fingers together as he pushed the tip into your mouth. He let you take your time with him knowing you were already through the wringer today. “My sweet baby, you’re doing so well” he praised you letting go of one of your hands to wipe away a hair.

Seungmin was in his own little world right now as he fucked brain dead into you. He was going stupid, pounding deep into you. “Shit- you gonna cum? You’re clenching so much around me fuck- gonna- agh- not gonna-“ seungmins words ran together as his high was at its peak. “Your pussy is sucking me so good. My dirty little pup gonna take all my cum?” He said tongue hanging out. He started to leave circles on your throbbing clit making your body jolt. As it did you took all of jeongin into your mouth deep. “Ah- fuck-“ he groaned out.

“Y/n!” Seungmin almost screamed out as he dumped all his cum inside of you. You could feel his ball releasing all of him inside of you. “Shit- I’m close” Jeongin said as he listened to you moaning from the feeling of being stuffed again. “Dude I don’t think I can move” Seungmin said his chest heaving. Jeongin nodded pushing in and out of your mouth a bit rougher now chasing his own high. “Fuck- listen keep playing with that perfect clit.” Jeongin demanded which Seungmin happily obliged.

You could feel yourself coming undone and in a matter of seconds your high was crashing around you yet again. This time it was more intense. Your body shook eyes pricked with tears as Jeongin came half way in your mouth the other half on your chest. “Shi- I’m sorry” he mumbled out. All three of you were panting trying to catch your breath. Minho had come to knock on the door “alright guys let y/n have a break” he said softly standing in the doorway now. Jeongin went to grab you a towel as seungmin wrapped his arms around you.

He peppered small kisses to your shoulder “such a good girl, you’re such a good girl” he repeated trying to sooth you from your high. After getting cleaned up and everything the boys laid beside you curled up into their arms. Minho smiled at the scene pulling the covers over you all kissing your head softly. “Get some rest kitten”

——————

You had surprised Chan at the studio with some of his favorite food. You both sat and chatted while you devoured the delicious food. “Chan you still here?” A voice asked as the door opened. “Oh hey y/n! Wait! You brought food and didn’t ask me to come down” he whined. Chan and you both chuckled “don’t be silly Binnie I brought you some too!” You said pulling a bag from the side. “I figured you were here” you said smiling passing him the bag. The three of you sat and chatted before the two men went about their work.

You sat there on your phone just scrolling until you saw something pop up. You giggled a little sending it to Chan who looked at it right away. He turned around with a shit eating grin “first why is this popping up for you and two come take your place princess.” Chan moved his chair back placing one of the hoodies he has draped over the other chair on the floor. Changbin tilted his head “what are you doing?” He asked curiously. Chan doesn’t say anything just shows him the picture. It’s a picture of someone on their knees under the desk with a massive cock in their mouth as the man above does work. The caption reads: Two Kinds of work loads.

Changbin shook his head chuckling a bit. “Y/n sometimes I think your sex drive can out match all of us” he laughed harder. You roll your eyes “so you’re saying you don’t want me to do it to you too?” You said teasingly. He coughed his words getting stuck in his throat “I- that’s not what I said” Chan laughed this time pointing at the other man “you got him all flustered y/n”

You got into position under the desk Chan having his pants down just enough for you to get to his half harden cock. You gulped back saliva your moth watering at the sight. “All mine” you said giving his head soft kisses. “All yours princess” he coo’d back at you. You slowly started to take his length as he tried to focus on working. Changbin had moved his chair close to you looking down at you with hooded eyes. You smiled letting your free hand lay on his bulge that was growing in his pants.

A few minutes went by Bins aching cock tight in his pants. He moved your hand softly to the side before pulling his joggers down his thick cock sprung out dripping with precum already. You moved from sucking Chan to sucking Bin letting your hand play with Chans long veiny cock. Both of the sexy men above you let out small grunts and groans as you had your fun below the table. A bit into this switching back and forth you were back at Chan. His hands reached down pulling your head fully down his cock, making you gag.

He let out the most sinful noise, your already dripping core clenching around nothing at the sound of him. You looked up at him eyes glassed over. He smiled down at you “c’mere princess let me make you feel good.” He said bringing you up as he cupped your face “lay on the couch” he said fondly as he stripped you of your bottoms. He licked his lips as he started down at your core dripping with arousal. “Shit-“ he let out softly before diving into your dripping cunt. He sucked harshly at your clit pushing 2 fingers into you.

He pumped his arm into slowly but deeply, arching his fingers in you hitting all your sweet spots. You left out sweet moans gripping onto his head. You looked over at the other man who was sitting there mouth open as he jerked himself off. “Bin- c’mere” you said voice hot. It took him a moment to realize what you had said before quickly getting up. He kneeled beside you “yes bunny?” He asked sweetly. You open your mouth slightly looking up at him with puppy dog eyes “wanna make you feel good”

Bin was slowly fucking your mouth, he was so gentle and tender as he did so. While he was doing that Chan was getting pussy drunk. He was devouring every inch of your body trembling under him. You pulled away from bin for only a second “close” you groaned out. Chan picked up his pace fucking his hand into you more as he felt your walls clench around them. You gripped onto bins hands making him melt into you as you came undone.

Bin sat on the couch holding you up as he moved you on top of him. His cock poking at your entrance, Chan also positioned himself about you. “Princess if you can’t take us both you tell me ok?” Chan said softly looking down at you. You nodded yes in agreement, you’ve done this before but with a different smaller member. Bin was really girth and putting it together with Chan long cock was, well let’s just say an automatic orgasm.

Bin pushed into you first moving a bit before Chan joined in. Both cocked filled your pussy so full. So so full. “Fucking hell” you moaned out grabbing onto Chan quickly. After they gave you some time to settle that was it. All three of you were so desperate, searching for you won highs as you fucked. The sounds of you pussy being violated like this were hot but not hotter that the sounds of the two men. God. Was it hot. They fucked into you good and deep hitting your g-spot stretching your hole.

You felt your body getting tight again feeling those wires about to snap once more. Your pussy gripped around them so tightly making them moan in response. “Y/n ah fuck close” bin babbled “gonna fill you” he said holding onto you tightly. Chan wasn’t doing much better every movement brought him closer and closers. His body shaking as he pushed deep into you. “Y/n- fuck I love you augh princess I love you so much.” He said with a long groan.

Chan brought down his hand to play with your clit as changbin started to play with your breast. At the stimulation you gasped nails digging into Chans back. Your body shook hard as those wires broke one by one. “Cuming!” You almost screamed out creaming around both of their cocks. The feeling making changbin buck his hips one more time before spilling inside you. Chan road out your high as his crashed, his cock twitching as he dumped himself into.

Changbins muscles gave out as you all tumbled to the couch. You all sat there panting, you feeling all the cum drip down your leg. “Here- princess” Chan breathed out taking tissues to clean you up. “My pretty bunny” bin said kissing your neck. “She did so well hmm?” He asked looking at Chan “she did so very well” he said kissing you cheek.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[rafey-baby]

dealer!rafe knows just the right way to apologize after coming home late once again…

c/w: kinda free use, p-in-v, angsty undertones? 18+ mdni!

wc: 820

part two

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s past midnight when she stirs awake in their unlit bedroom to Rafe’s calloused hands roaming along the skin of her waist as he slumps down on top of her, groaning when he can feel her delicate presence underneath him, at last.  

It’s unbearably thermal, which is why she’s merely wearing a flimsy top as she lays on her stomach under the covers; softened bones feeling mellow under the weight of his heavy limbs profoundly pressing her into the mattress.  

She tries to move around some, albeit unsuccessfully as his much bigger body cages her between the rumpled sheets and his strong abdomen and she lets out a displeased huff because he was supposed to be back hours ago. 

“Rafe? Where were you? Waited for you…” she sounds almost upset with her mind hazy; dreamy sleep still lingering. 

“Just had to take care of some shit, m’sorry,” he murmurs, guilt weighing him down at the prospect of making her sad. It’s something he seems to be doing a lot these days. 

“Missed my girl all day,” he burrows his face in her hair, inhaling the dulcet coconut scent of her favorite conditioner still present in the damp strands.  

She sighs.  

“Thought you said you’d come home early tonight and we’d watch a movie…” she complains, voice still coated in the glimmer of the dreamland she’s been forced to wake up from.  

“I know, baby. But listen, you’ll get me all to yourself tomorrow, yeah?” His honeyed words soothe her some but she’s still discontented. He always does this. Promises something and then gets her hopes up thinking he’s finally going to keep his word but every time some shit comes up.  

“Was worried something happened,” she persists, a frown obscuring her face as he presses a sugary kiss on her cheek in apology. That’s the other thing, it’s not exactly the fact that he works too much that concerns her, but the nature of his business. It’s dangerous.  

After all, he doesn’t keep a gun tucked in the waistband of his pants whenever he leaves the house for nothing. And even if she knows he can take care of himself, she can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over her whenever he opens the front door unscathed. 

“Don’t have to worry about me, you know that,” he scolds, peeling the covers off her frame and tugging her closer by a grip on her hips.  

“But Rafe—” she whines. 

“But nothing," he interrupts her as he tugs down the zipper of his pants. "Look so sweet when you sleep, gets me so hard, you know?” He mumbles before she feels him poking at her entrance.  

“I’m still mad at you,” she complains with a pout. However, she doesn’t exactly do anything to stop him. Craves to feel close to him in any and every capacity he lets her, even if it can be exhausting to love him as much as she does. 

“Shh, let me say hi to my pussy, hm?” Love it when you’re not wearing any panties to bed, make it so easy for me to just…” he trails off, finishing the sentence with a nudge of his hips against her; tucking his cock into the warmth of her with his fingers sinking into the flesh of her ass.  

“Ray…” she whimpers; the odd intimacy they seem to share in the quietest hours of the day always comforting her in some peculiar way.

“Let me make it up to you, okay?” It’s more of a demand than a request and she has no choice but to let him do as he pleases when he pushes in deeper; prodding at the spongy spot inside her and making her cry out.  

“Yeah? That feel nice?” He pants in her ear; shoving her face more into the fluffy pillows with each thrust of his hips against her.  

“Promise, I’ll take the day off tomorrow and we can do whatever you want, can watch all the movies and make some food and could run you a bath, hm?” He rasps in her ear as her breathy moans get louder by every drag of his cock in and out of her gummy walls.  

His rough hands slide between the mattress and her body, groping at the flesh of her tits as he’s letting out guttural groans from the back of his throat; thrusts growing sloppy in their search for a release in the all too forgiving girl who wishes Rafe was always like this.  

The way he’s talking to her right now initiates false hope in her and she thinks that maybe one day she’ll be able to actually trust his empty promises.  

However, she knows that the minute he gets a call regarding a missing shipment or a late payment, he’s going to have to leave to make sure everything’s in order; returning after nightfall the following day because that’s what always happens. 

[misstycloud]

Isekai’d yandere x f.reader

We’ve all heard about reader getting isekai’d into another universe and bonding with the characters, but what if it was the opposite and the yandere was isekai’d while reader’s just a background character.

————-

You were the mere daughter of a baron. You were pretty, yes, but nothing to gape in awe at. To summarise, you were nothing special. Then how come the heir of a grand duchy followed you around like a puppy seeking its masters attention? Especially since it was only the day earlier that he smitten with another young miss, who he’d declared with his actions was to become his future fiancée.

Yandere! Noble who suddenly approached you out of nowhere one day. You weren’t friends and had hardly ever spoken; to ask directions or work in pairs, perhaps. He was way too cheery speaking to you. It was completely out of character for him. Where did the normally stoic and unphased young man go? He was certainly not to be found here. No, this man chatted your ear off and did not understand that you wished to be left alone. It didn’t feel very safe anymore when all his admirers glared daggers your way. There was one you were especially afraid of. He was head over heels in love with her before. What has changed? You always saw them together and she was the only one he’d smiled at genuinely. Now he didn’t even spare her a glance.

Yandere! Noble who sought you out whenever he had free time. He wanted to accompany you in breaks between your classes at the academy, he wished to escort you to town and he even showed up outside your estate. His change in behaviour was puzzling, but not as much as the shift in his speech. What were these ‘bruh’, ‘sigma’ and ‘I’m cooked’? You didn’t understand any of it, no matter how much he used it around you. You suppose you were thankful he did turn it down a notch when in others company. You already had a hard time with it, you didn’t think it was necessary for others to suffer as well.

Yandere! Noble who had been shocked when they died and woken up in the world of their favourite romance game. They had read a lot of isekai novels but never once thought the thing was actually real. Wait, if this was their favourite game, then wouldn’t that mean that you were there too? Yes! Maybe they should thank Truck-kun for hitting them on their way to work. This was much better than any ordinary life a citizen could have. At first they thought they’d be stuck in the body of a villain or a side character, but they were pleasantly surprised to find themselves being the male lead of the game. He was rich, noble, influential and devilishly handsome. He had everything.

Yandere! Noble who immediately went to the academy to find you. When playing the game, they never found themselves attracted to the female lead, despite the fact she was modelled after the general population’s preferences. It just didn’t work for them. No, they liked you. Loved you even! It didn’t matter that you were nothing more than a simple background character. You were way better and cuter than any other love interest! You kept to yourself and didn’t have many friends, however you were still very kind and modest. On top of that, you were also an animal lover- exactly like them! The two of you also shared one other interest. They wanted to know if you shared more, but unfortunately the information on you was limited(not created because you’re not important).

Yandere! Noble who wrote an email to the game developers about how they should make extra content that should only feature new information and updates on you. They insist it would sell well(no one except them would buy). Sadly they never got a reply back. Rude ass company. Maybe they should’ve claimed mental health damage because the love interests were bad, so they could sue.

Yandere! Noble who couldn’t care less about the female lead. Unfortunately they got isekaid to at the point of the game where you’d have to enter a relationship with the female lead, that you could break off eventually if you wanted to chase after someone else. And sadly for her, you were the only option. The look on her face was laughable as they told her they could give rats ass about her and how they’ve found someone much better than her in all ways.

Yandere! Noble who then realised they were not bound by any rules. In a lot of isekai the person would have to follow some original rules at least in the beginning, but there was no system or points you needed to collect. They could do whatever they wanted. They had the power, the looks, the wealth and what they wanted was you.

There is no way you’d ever say no to a future grand duke, right?

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, yandere, kidnapped reader, murder of nameless side characters

♡ fem reader

Thinking about that moment of violent change you’re forced to go through when your loving boyfriend becomes the terrifying man you don’t recognize—and how it completely eradicates the reality you’d grown so comfortable in, realizing it was all some perfectly orchestrated lie.

Rope burns on your wrists and ankles, tears streaking your chunky cheeks, and a poor soul’s blood on your pretty face belonging to some guy who’d gotten a little too close for comfort.

He’d cut him down like it was nothing.

The knife is held still by his side, a shining red murder weapon, dripping on the floor in the growing pond by his feet. He sighs heavily, casts his head back then looks behind him, beholding you through slim eyes, clicking his tongue, “Look what you made me do…”

He wouldn’t be the only one… several victims followed in his bloody path—witnesses who’d seen him struggle with you, kicking and screaming for all your worth, trying anything to get away. You were all too easily manhandled into the car, and could only watch behind the locked door, banging with bound fists on the glass while he gutted other passersby who’d threatened to call the police.

Driving off, he growls at you, first to shut up and then, “That was your fault—if only you’d been a good girl, none of those innocent people would have had to die.” His knuckles whiten on the wheel, wringing it in his stained grip—scarlet on ivory. “If you don’t want any more blood on your hands, you better sit pretty and not cause me any more trouble.”

You sob uncontrollably and inconsolably despite the threat—you can’t stop yourself—you can’t even comprehend his words. None of it makes any sense. You’d seen it all, and yet you can’t understand it—any of it. You’d watched the sweet guy you knew shed his skin and become a monster right before your eyes. It must be some bad dream, some terrible, awful, horrible nightmare.

But even if it is, you don’t want him touching you ever again. It makes you physically sick to your stomach to think you’d ever shared a bed with him—exchanged sweet nothings in the damp heat of each other. No, no, no, it’s not the same person—it can’t be. It can’t be true. What about the smiles you’d shared over breakfast, those times you’d surprised each other at lunch, all the dates, all the gifts, all the kisses, the future you’d talked about?

You’d fallen in love. But you’ve fallen in love with someone who doesn’t even exist.

He makes sure the door to the bedroom’s under lock and a key he stores somewhere you won’t find it. You squirm in your bonds on the bed when he approaches, shivering with whimpers under his hands, flinching at his touch while he unties you, then cringing as he angles your face to look at him—wanting to pry free, anything not to look into those changed eyes.

You hadn’t thought his build was imposing before, it hadn’t struck you as lethal. Naively, you’d thought him cozy—a big chest and a warm embrace he would scoop you up in, a safe place you could live. He’s cold now, menacing and filthy from his crimes—the body of a killer, a cold-blooded murderer. He’s so big it makes the room feel too small for the both of you. Claustrophobic.

He forces your gaze to him, and it’s all you see, those eyes, those unrecognizable eyes, with that look within you can’t understand, beholding you with burden.

“I still love you,” he states, though it angers him. “Even though you broke my heart. I still love you.”

You shake your head, or you try to, but it results in only tiny tremors caught in his hand where he keeps your chin, bloody fingers buried in your plump cheeks, squeezing so hard you wince.

“But it doesn’t come for free,” he seethes with an awful sneer. A type of grimace you’d never thought him capable of, overfilled with disdain. “My love is earned. And after all you did today, you’re in deep debt.”

He lets go of your face with a nasty shove, taking a mean grip on your shirt instead, using both fists to tear it down the middle. You yelp and cover yourself, but that only angers him further—causing him to grab your wrists and pin them to your side. You think you feel your joints popping.

“Test me, and I’ll hurt you,” he growls, his teeth bared at your ear where your face curls to hide itself in the pillow. “I don’t want to, but if that’s what it takes to make you sorry, then so be it. Be good, and I won’t have to take it that far.”

You lie as still as you can muster while he removes the rest—roughly as he goes—your bra, your skirt, your underwear. You only snivel and toil with the sheets in weak little fists, making your joints cramp up—feeling raw under him, at the mercy of those blood-dried hands.

You understand what he’s about to do, and yet it doesn’t really dawn on you before you hear the sharp ringing of his belt buckle being undone. You don’t look, but you don’t close your eyes either—the room is already dark enough that closing your eyes would make you feel too close to death. So, you keep your gaze fixed to the side, to the stale wall.

The bed bounces you as he shuffles. The urge to run bubbles within, but you know it wouldn’t be to your advantage. So your mind spins, thinking of other possibilities, growing ever more panicked when coming up empty.

He spits on your slit, then rears it with his spitefully erect shaft—pushing in without further prep. And you lose all sense of control.

Twisting at the attack, you scream again, “No! Stop—”

Your hands barely touch him before he’s answered the protest with a tightening grip on your neck. Unrelenting, your throat instantly snares, and you choke on any further outburst.

“I told you,” he chastises. “Why do you have to force my hand, huh?”

You gasp for any sliver worth of air, sipping through the cracks of his chokehold, but it’s very nearly sealed completely shut. You try lifting his grip with your own, both hands holding onto his wrist, wanting to pull loose but achieving nothing.

It’s so pitiful that he ignores the effort. Using his remaining hand to continue what he’d set out to do. Planting his tip at your unprepped entrance, he wasted no time before surging forward.

Your vision starts to spot, and your hands grow weak, barely hanging on.

“That’s good. Lie still and take it,” he groans—his lips on your cheek as he bullies through your dry walls, only aided by his spit. “And I might consider once’ enough.”  

You don’t have a choice, feeling your body go numb. He picks your thigh up over his hip and drives deeper—starting a steady pace without letting go of your throat, squeezing the life out of you. Your hands finally drop, lying limp, and still, you feel it deep within—the thrusting as he beats your sorry cunt into an aching mess, then fills you up with awful warmth.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Nanami, Geto, Naoya

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[yogurtkags]

❝ HUSH ❞ — sakusa kiyoomi

cw. f!reader, fluff, olympics au, athletic trainer!reader, timeskip characters, established relationship, secret marriage, language (omi swears like once), not beta read (sorry!) word count. ~ 1.6k

“japan’s outside hitter sakusa kiyoomi and newly revealed wife, athletic trainer y/n l/n, steals the spotlight in the city of love!”

@tetzoro's summer olympics collab

your eyes glance in his direction, letting it linger on his figure as the team settles down into their corner. he’s a little tense, understandably so– it’s his first time at the olympics, and with the pressure of the finals sitting on his shoulders, the nerves are showing, though carefully hidden behind his standard resting face that you can see through so well. the lights hanging along the ceilings of the south paris arena cast a tasteful warm glow along the contours of his face. despite the subconscious clenched jaw and slightly downturned lips that make you want to kiss the frown off so badly, there’s a shine in his eyes like no other.

the last few days have been pretty rough, of stiff beds, subpar food and sleeping without kiyoomi. you know he feels the same if the progressively increasing frequency of late night calls and texts are any indication. with the boys sharing rooms in twos amongst themselves and the rest of the team’s staff being housed in a separate wing of the building, falling asleep in his arms was a faraway thought since you arrived at the olympic village.

loml ♡ : miya snores so fuckin’ loudly i can’t handle this me : well it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve dealt with it baby loml ♡ : i still think we should’ve fought harder for us sharing a room

he drifts off into slumber easily after washing up and getting his fill of talking to you (never enough), the mental and physical fatigue of matches and practices in between taking a toll on his body, but for you, being wrapped in his warm embrace was the perfect recipe and vital to a good night's sleep. it’s safe to say that you haven’t been sleeping well for the past week.

it didn’t help that being sworn to secrecy about your relationship also meant that any interactions you had with him outside being the team’s athletic trainer was like treading on eggshells. it feels like you’re in high school again, sitting next to him in the dining hall during meal times with your clasped hands hidden under the table from watchful eyes, his thumb rubbing soft circles against the back of your hand or squeezing ever so often, as if to affirm his presence and silently reassure that i’m here.

it seems to be a trend lately for athletes to be active on their social media platforms, be it their team’s or just a personal account, recounting stories or even taking avid viewers through “a day in the life of an olympic athlete” — without looking too far, even miya jumped on the bandwagon, often seeing suna running around filming short clips of their shenanigans in free pockets of time during the day. you and kiyoomi talked about it before the season began, keeping any non-professional interactions to a minimum. there’s eyes everywhere and it’s better to be safe than sorry.

both of you are very private people, it was only natural that you preferred to keep your personal life and matters to yourselves behind closed doors. this ended up being a double-edged sword, because everyone wants to be all up in your business, especially kiyoomi who finds himself in the spotlight more often, being apart of the “young handsome eligible bachelors” of the MSBY 4 and now one of the most sought-after new additions to japan’s national team.

you on the other hand, were better known by twitter as “the pretty trainer” from the shweiden adlers and now the national team, standing next to another fan-favourite, iwaizumi hajime. thankfully your role is kept more so behind the scenes, checking on the players during games and making sure they remain in tip-top shape on and off the court.

being the quiet and brooding one amongst outgoing chatterboxes meant that the media would try to dig any information out of kiyoomi, but prying interviewers and prodding questions towards him and his love life were smoothly deflected and brushed aside, the boys even coming to his defense if anyone got too pushy with it, which you were beyond thankful for. not that they needed to most of the time, he’s known to be curt with his responses and quick to bring the topic back to the game, and no one likes a snappy sakusa anyway, many have learned this the hard way.

just months prior to the both of you getting called in to begin training for the olympics and before schedules start to pick up, you had a small private wedding in your hometown with just close friends and family, the ceremony kept under lock and key and tucked away from the public eye. it made it all the more intimate, more like a quiet gathering to celebrate your union than a grand spectacle, which suited you perfectly. the honeymoon hasn’t happened yet with the timing of everything, you’re saving it for post-season when you both can finally take a break and relax for a little while.

you won’t deny that there are some days where you wished that things were different, and that you could openly express your love for each other without scrutiny and attention being on you, but alas, that is to be expected as someone exposed to the public eye.

the olympics is your first public appearance as married individuals, not that anyone particularly cares about your status, their eyes instead zeroing in on kiyoomi and the chain around his neck carrying a shiny new silver band. it's safe to say that judging by the scowl on his face and the chatter buzzing around the front rows of stands as the team settles into their side of the court, his “mystery wife" is the new talk of the town.

when he comes over to you during timeout, his eyes meet yours bashfully as you hand him a bottle, fingers brushing against yours in an unspoken apology. you just smile and lightly pat his back as he turns to join the team huddle. there’s nothing to be sorry for, silly.

these little moments mean everything to you, even though it looks like nothing in the grand scheme of things. just being there with him and coming together with a shared passion even if it's in different fields of the broader spectrum of sport, fills you with a sense of happiness and content. watching him in his element and being able to support him on the sidelines through it all, you'd never trade that for the world.

and as you’re sitting at the edge of your seat with your bum hanging on for dear life, you lean forward with your hands pressed together, the top of your index fingers resting against the tip of your nose like a pseudo prayer. match point.

it feels like you’re watching the longest rally of your life and like a bad habit, your knee begins bouncing up and down in your nervousness and anticipation. iwaizumi too, is so engrossed in the play at hand that he doesn’t notice, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough in this moment to stop you with his usual slap to your thigh and a chiding comment, “stop it, even my grandma back in sendai can feel the tremours from your goddamn knees.”

with bated breath, you watch kageyama tosses one beautiful arc of a set to kiyoomi as he leaps into the air and makes contact with the ball.

with a powerful spike, he is a force to be reckoned with, sending the ball home as the opponents dive to save it, their arms hands and fingers stretching out in a last ditch attempt to connect and rescue the point, but to no avail. the ball lands with a harsh thud and as he stands tall above their groveling, the whistle blows and the crowds roar.

your arms instinctively raise in a cheer, and in the next moment they’re closed over your mouth, tears pricking your eyes as you stumble over your feet and scramble to get up. as the team rushes towards him with shouts of celebration, his eyes immediately dart in your direction, softening as he sees you dashing over. with knowing smirks and crescent moons for eyes, the boys follow his line of sight and give him firm slaps on the back, parting the hoard for you and giving just enough room for him to uncharacteristically swoop you up in his arms and crash his lips into yours, all caution thrown to the wind.

all the noise halts and time stands still, everything fades away and nothing else in the world matters in the moment, not the people, not the cameras, just the overwhelming rush of joy and pride, and love, oh love, swelling from the depths of your chest and your heart bursting at its seams.

your senses flood with everything kiyoomi, from the way the sweaty strands of his hair at the back of his neck feel on your fingertips, his cheeks dampening from your tears, the nudge of his nose against yours, and the press of his smile on your locked lips. he breathes out and you breathe him in, letting all of his being rest in the room in your heart saved specially for him, seeping into every corner of your soul.

when you inevitably pull apart for air, the current predicament doesn't exactly click in your mind just yet until he grabs your hand and pulls you into his side, shielding you from the onslaught of reporters and press looking to get a fresh scoop on the hottest piece of news. with blown out eyes, you look at him in a daze and disbelief, did that really just happen?

the smug smirk on his face says it all.

the matching silver bands on your finger and hanging around his neck, it was always there. for the longest time it was your little secret, and now a declaration of love and devotion — not even a shiny new gold medal could compare.

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[moonlightrafe]

Blood Lust

summary: With his ego inflated after Rook’s Rest, Aemond makes another move against the blacks — taking you.

pairing: Aemond x Niece!Reader

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: Explicit smut, dark!Aemond, incest, oral sex (f recieving), p in v sex, heavy dubcon, loss of virginity, mention of blood, knife play, angst!!! 18+ MDNI

Destiny was a fickle thing but Aemond Targaryen knew three things for certain: he was destined to lose an eye, destined to claim the largest dragon of the known world and destined to be with you.

For as long as Aemond could remember, he wanted you, dreamed of you. The mere thought of you made his cock ache at any moment.

It was not as if Aemond had no other options. There were plenty of Lord’s willing to send their daughters to King’s Landing to be married off to a prince.

As lovely as those girls might have been, they all shared the same detrimental flaw: they simply were not you. You were a member of House Targaryen — bastard born or not, the blood of Old Valyria ran deep within your veins. You were a skilled dragon rider, you carried yourself with grace, held a quick wit, spoke your mother tongue. Above all else, you had been there for Aemond when no one else was. You were perfect.

Aemond had no interest in being betrothed to a Baratheon or a Lannister, nor an Arryn or a Stark; even the most beautiful girl the Tyrell’s had to offer would simply never compare. After a denied proposal for a betrothal and you being taken away to Dragonstone Aemond felt powerless — until now.

Your entire body aches as you make out your surroundings. You had been taken in the middle of the night, forced onto dragon back with your hands and feet tied.

“Listen to me,” your uncle says as he crouches in front of you, “if you scream the guards will come and you’ll be thrown in the dungeons. You have no friends here except me. Do you understand?”

You nod your head in agreement, desperate to be free of the makeshift gag he had made for you.

“Aemond, this is treason,” you state plainly.

“Treason, would be betraying the crown, sweet niece,” he responds, “I am the crown.”

“Fuck you!” you grumble at him.

“Iksos bona skoros ao jaelagon?” Is that what you want?

Against your better judgment, you spit right in his face, observing him nervously as he wipes it away.

“Fiesty little thing you are.”

“What do you want with me, Aemond? Will you force me to kneel before you? Carve out my eye? Perhaps I’ll suffer the same fate as my brother?”

Ah, Lucerys. He was waiting for you to bring that up.

“While I’m sure that seeing you on your knees is a glorious sight, I have other plans for you.”

“I have no desire to bed you, Aemond. I am betrothed.”

The smirk on his face slightly drops at that. Betrothed.

“And where is Lord Stark now?” He questions casually.

“Preparing his army for war.”

“I wonder how it must feel?” he goes on, “to be whored out? Practically sold like a broodmare so that your pretender of a mother can build herself an army?”

“Better to be his whore than your war prize.”

The mask of cruelty on Aemond's face fades for a moment, and for a second, he almost looks hurt at your words.

“Is that what you think? That you’re merely a ‘prize’? You wound me, dear niece. Do you not remember that I love you?”

Ice fills your veins at his confession and your heart drops into your stomach. Things could’ve been different, they should’ve been.

“I don’t understand why things had to escalate in this way, Aemond,” you say as you start to cry, “you could’ve —“ you choke back a sob, “you could’ve had me.”

Aemond takes your chin in his hands as he lets out a laugh.

“I do have you, baby.”

Fear courses through you at his words. Aemond unsheathes a knife from his jacket pocket and holds it to your chest for a brief moment before pulling away.

“Hold still,” he demands as he cuts the rope that holds your ankles together.

You wince as Aemond forcefully spreads your legs apart, violently cutting a hole into your undergarments, exposing your cunt to him.

“Tell me, has Stark fucked this pretty little pussy yet?”

He knows he hasn’t, he knows you and Cregan still have yet to meet. He wants to hear you say it.

“N-no,” you stutter as you continue to cry. Gods, you look so pretty when you cry, Aemond thinks to himself. He only smirks in response.

“You are still a maiden, right, sweet one? You haven’t let little Lord Strong defile you, have you?”

“Gods, Aemond. No.”

“Hm,” Aemond frowns, “a shame for him, really. Now he’ll never have the chance being that you will never see him again.”

“They’ll come for you,” you tell him.

“If they wish to keep me away from you and your perfect cunt they’ll have to kill you,” he muses, “But even then…”

A darkness takes over your uncles face and you soon realize the Aemond you once knew is gone. You are dealing with a whole new monster. He is an animal, a beast — and you are merely prey.

“Do you touch yourself?” he asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“S-sometimes,” you whisper, feeling ashamed, but finding it difficult to lie to him.

“What do you think about when you do?”

“Not you,” you retort.

He runs two fingers through your soft folds, causing you to gasp, before bringing his fingers up to the light.

“Liar,” he states as his fingers glisten, coated in your slick. “You know you don’t have to lie to me, baby. I think about you, too…”

You can’t help but notice the evident bulge in your uncle's pants, his cock strains against the delicate fabric. You can tell how big he is. You try your best to divert your gaze elsewhere.

“Now, I’m going to untie your wrists. Might I remind you of what I said earlier: You are far better off in here, with me, than out there,” he says, pointing to the door with his dagger.

You’re not sure if you believe him. At this point, you might prefer to be thrown in the dungeon with the rats, left to starve. Instead of arguing, you simply nod your head as Aemond cuts you free.

You feel wobbly as you stand on your feet, Aemond holds your hands as you gain your composure. Your ankles and wrists feel sore, but Aemond rubs his thumb against your wrist soothingly.

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as that familiar ache between your legs begins to grow. You know you shouldn't be aroused by this behavior, but your body is betraying you.

Aemond picks you up swiftly and places you onto his bed. There was a time where you dreamed of this. If only your younger self could see you now.

Your thoughts are interrupted once again as Aemond’s large hand wraps around your throat. He squeezes lightly, trying to keep you in your place. You make a feeble attempt to push him away, but he is too strong and you can’t break free.

“Please, don’t be afraid of me,” he pleads, “I need you,” the timbre of his voice is so low that you aren’t sure if he meant for you to hear. His free hand moves to your breast, massaging it roughly through your chemise.

"You are so beautiful," he says, leaning over you. You feel him press himself against you, his cock rubbing against your leg, pre-cum leaks out of the tip and smears onto your thigh.

He pushes back and nestles himself comfortably between your thighs. His dexterous fingers part your folds ever so gently, exposing you to him completely.

“Gods, you’re perfect. The most perfect girl in the entire realm,” he groans before his face is buried between your thighs. His plump lips suck at your clit as he prods at it with his tongue before moving up and down your slit. You feel yourself getting wetter, arousal leaks from your core and Aemond laps it up eagerly. On instinct, you spread your legs even further apart, your body betraying you once again.

Aemond licks harder, and you feel the soft muscle of his tongue slip inside you. A loud moan erupts from your chest as a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach. Your hand shoots down to to tug at Aemond’s silver tresses.

You’re so close, you’ve never been touched like this before and one final glide of his tongue pushes you over the edge. You cry out loudly as you cum, your vision going blurry as your cunt contracts around him.

Aemond pulls himself from your core and stands up, grabbing your hips. He harshly pulls you to the edge of the bed and you feel his cock pressing against you. You eagerly push towards him this time. There is no point in fighting him. You gasp as he enters you fully, filling you completely. The stretch is overwhelming, a tight burning sensation. The fullness begins to feel good as your silky walls flutter around him.

“Just relax,” he coos, “I know you want me.”

You feel his cock twitch inside you slightly as he groans, leaning down to bite your shoulder.

“Fuuuck,” he drawls, “you’re so tight and wet, baby, so perfect; just like I dreamed you would be.”

Your cheeks bloom crimson at his praise and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tightly as he fucks into you. The sharp pain soon fades into pleasure. The fat tip of his cock relentlessly bullies that sweet spot inside you that you were never able to reach on your own.

Aemond reaches up to paw at your breast, pinching at your nipple roughly, and a wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your spine tingles and your toes curl, causing you to moan in response.

"You think Stark could fuck you like this? Make you feel the way I do? That anyone could?" He rasps as his thrusts become relentless. He slaps your face when you fail to give him an answer. A shameful whimper escapes you.

"Answer. Me." he demands between thrusts, his teeth gritted together, his thumb swiping over the rosy, delicate flesh where he hit you.

“N-no, Aemond! Only you, just you! I'm sorry!” you all but choke out to him.

“That’s right, my sweet. You were fuckin’ made for me,” he grunts before pausing his thrusts, his hips stuttering before he pulls his cock out of you almost entirely. Making note of the blood that coats his shaft, hoping you don’t notice.

“You know it, I know it, your mother knows it,” he grits out, “you’re mine.”

“Yes, Aemond, I’m — fuck! I’m yours,” you mewl.

“Do you love me?" he asks, your mind is hazy, and stars blur your vision as he continues to drill into you. Even while he is taking control, his insecurity still has a way of shining through his cruel demeanor.

You loved him once, long ago. Maybe you could love him again? You know the answer he is looking for is not ‘maybe.’

"Kessa, Avy jorrāelan." Yes, I love you.

Aemond grins at this, impressed with your knowledge of your shared mother tongue.

He slams his cock into you full force, stilling as he presses hard against your cervix, making you cry out again. His hand tangles in your hair as he places his forehead against yours.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he tells you.

You grip at his hips, pulling him into you.

“C-cum inside me,” you moan through bated breaths, “claim me as your own, once and for all.”

“You’ve always been mine,” he says as he complies, pushing into you deeply as he shoots his hot cum inside of you, warmth blooming in your chest as he does so; before collapsing on top of you.

“What happens now?” you ask, as he gently pulls himself out of your heat, allowing his seed to seep onto the bed sheets.

“This is just the beginning.”

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A change of living arrangements means you and the lieutenant are going to be sharing quarters for a bit. All would be fine, if you two could actually stand each other. Is that really it though? Neither of you will tell. But one night, an impromptu confrontation leads to something explosive.

Word Count: 7.9 k

Warnings:

“Fuckin’ hell,” the masked lieutenant says under his breath as he opens the door to his new room in the barracks to see just what fresh hell awaits him now.

As a slew of recent recruits just got added to the task forces numbers and so orders went out that temporary room assignments would be put in place until more permanent accommodations could be dealt with to fit the growing numbers. That meant everyone already here had to double up in the short term and Lt. Riley is no exception.

It’s already been a long day and he just wants to get this over with so he can get some sleep soon. The door widens just enough that he can see the figure of his new roommate on the other side of the room setting up their area and that is all it takes for him to stop dead in his tracks as his heart begins to pound heavy in his chest. 

No, no, no; this can’t be right.

Even from the back he already knows it’s you that will be sharing a space for God knows how long and suddenly he is unsure of how he is going to make it through the proximity. Why the fuck of all people did it have to be you that he was paired to board with? The one person that would make the stay that much harder?

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ jokin’,” he says aloud and as soon as those distinct bassy notes make it out of his mouth you immediately turn.

The color drains from your face. “No,” you say as you shake your head. “This has got to be a setup. What the hell are you doing here?”

The lieutenant adjusts his pack full of his clothes and personal items hanging off his shoulder. “What the fuck do ya think I’m doin’?” he asks, his tone harsh. “This is tha room I’ve been assigned.”

The universe has to be playing a cruel joke on him that it would force him into being near the one person he can’t stand above anyone else in this shithole. It has been hard enough having to work together, but now he would have no escape from you and he could already feel himself growing weary at the prospect. 

You shake your head. “That can’t be right. There’s no way they even thought to put us together.”

“Ya think I jus’ decided ta bunk with ya of my own free will?” he shoots back as he moves to his side and sets his gear down. “I’d rather be anywhere else, princess.”

Where this dislike came from neither of you even really knew. There was never any pinpointed incident, no explosive confrontations, no pushbacks to his authority from you or questions about your abilities from him; it seemed to be as simple as two personalities that just repelled each other.

At least that’s what Lt. Riley tells anyone that happens to ask about why you two can’t seem to really get along, but if someone were to really pay attention maybe it isn’t that at all. Maybe there is, in fact, another reason for his attitude, a secret reason that means his eyes will sometimes linger a little too long on the person he says he dislikes, but if…and that is a big fucking if…there is something, he would rather take it to an early grave than even give a hint of anything.

And you, well… Your eye rolls whenever he crosses your path are getting a bit too theatrical to be believed fully anymore, almost as if you are trying to not only convince others of your strong distaste for the officer, but that you are trying to convince yourself as well. You keep your lips sealed tight though and so face value is all anyone can take, even if they just so happen to catch a glimpse of the way your pupils seem to dilate when he is near.  

“Don’t think you’re going to be here long,” you say, your tone snide. “This will be sorted soon enough cause this” you point between him and yourself repeatedly “will not work.”

The lieutenant has already resigned himself to living in hell as he hunkers down in his bed. “Whateva’ ya fuckin’ say, princess, but ya know what Cap’n Price said about not bringin’ this bullshit ta him as he’s too fuckin’ busy dealin’ with everythin’.”

Fuck. You’d forgotten that little memo… mostly likely put in place to avoid having to deal with situations just like this. If it wasn’t for that you would have marched right down to the captain’s office at first light to demand a change, but you’re already on thin ice as it is right now and can’t afford to cause trouble. All you can do is suck it up and bear it. 

It’s just a few weeks, right? Just a couple of measly weeks and you can both go back to avoiding each other like the plague and all will return to the status quo. Right?

Well a couple of weeks feels a lot longer when it’s spent in company with someone you are actively trying to keep up appearances around. By the end of the second week, even being the highly trained military officer that Lt. Riley is, even he is starting to crack under the constant closeness. 

He used to have an outlet, time that he could spend away from you to deescalate the desperate need growing in his belly, but now… now he has to see you after hours moving about the room in your pajamas that leave very little to the imagination and fuck is it killing him to not have some form of relief. 

He needs something to take the edge off or he is going to start getting sloppy around you and there are still three more weeks that just got added on to this torture. He’s held on for as long as he can, done all the mental gymnastics to keep certain thoughts at bay, but being forced to have his nose filled with the scent of your soap after your shower and have to watch you lay about casually on your bed as you read before going to sleep, legs propped in just a way that he can almost look into your shorts, he can’t do it anymore.

Tonight he has to fix his problem or you’re going to be able to see it protruding from the crotch of his pants. 

Lt. Riley waits long after he’s heard the change in your breathing to be sure you’re sound asleep before he puts his plan into action. The sharp edge of his teeth grip into the rolled up bottom of his crew neck shirt, holding it up off his stomach as his large hand is wrapped tightly around the shaft of his cock sticking out the top of his grey sweats. He had stuffed the fabric into the cavity to keep himself quiet, not wanting the sound of his desperation to wake you until he can finish; he has to get through this somehow and keeping his balls empty is the only way he knows will work. 

Vigorously he strokes up and down his length, using the bit of precum dribbling out of the tip as lubrication to smooth his movements. Those coffee-colored eyes stare up into the dark ceiling as his fantasies play through his mind like a film: you being a vision of beauty naked, his large body wedged between your legs, your bare thighs crushing against his hips as he slams into you hard and rough enough to make your breasts bounce with each thrust. 

Fuck, he cannot draw his thoughts away tonight. 

He desperately aches as he always does to feel you, get lost in your curves, let his touch map the contours of your body as he pulls your pleasure from you himself. His hand around his cock strokes harder as he imagines the way your body would feel wrapped around him instead of his rough palm. Would you cry out as he stretched you out for the first time? How hard would your hips buck and writhe against his?

God dammit, why do you have to be just out of reach? Close, right on the other side of the room, but not close enough… not in his bed, not under his body, not filled with his cock. Instead, here he sits propped up against the wall in his bed just as he has so many times before in his old room, using his palm to fuck himself, wishing he could be worthy of a minute of your softness instead.

He nearly bites a hole through the bottom of his shirt imagining the way the sound of your whimpering voice would run like a drug through his veins, leaving him in an intoxicating haze of desire as you moaned his name into the silence.

And that’s when it happens. This one isn’t only imaginary though, like your voice in his head. Muffled, your name falls from his lips in a groan and he doesn’t realize what he has done.

The hardened military lieutenant is unraveling at the seams, forcefully stopping himself from grunting like an animal as his abdominals tense the more that pressure builds inside. He’s almost there, so close that just a bit more and he is going to spill over the edge and finally be able to sleep so that another day can pass, but before he can reach that sweet peak of pleasure his eyes flutter open…

And there you are silently standing near the edge of his bed.

He should have been paying more attention to his surroundings during such an intimate act, but the ecstasy was too strong and he missed that squeak of springs and the soft pitter of feet across the floor. The bunched up shirt slips out of his lips as he tries to shove his cock back inside his pants, praying that the dark has masked enough of his body that you can’t see him clearly.

“What tha hell are ya doin?” he asks as embarrassment floods his nervous system.

Reaching over to his bedside table and brushing your hand over the fabric of his mask, there is a click as you turn on the small lamp to give the room just a tiny bit of light. You try not to get distracted by having those sharp features that you so rarely get to gaze upon meet your sight and you swallow to regain composure to continue.

“Could ask the same thing of you,” you return as you nod your head, using it to point to where his hands are doing a poor job of hiding the massive hard-on he still has.

Now it’s his turn to be silent. What the fuck is he supposed to say? It’s obvious that you’ve seen everything so no lie is going to convince you otherwise.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” you ask, but still he says nothing. “You know, you’re not as quiet as you think you are.”

The thought is left to hang in the air a moment, the only sound filling the room is of his heavy breathing as you weigh your options on how to handle this. You know you could simply chide him for needing to have a wank while bunked with a roommate and leave it at that, but that’s not what you want. No; you know what you just heard and that you have to know if what he was just doing was out of need for you… a need that you secretly share.

If this is your chance to make something happen between you both, you cannot let that go.

The lieutenant’s breathing gets even harder as he watches you move forward without another word and slowly climb onto the bed with him. You move your body up over top of him, his back still propped against the wall behind him, crawling up over his legs until you are straddling over his lap. 

Your face is right before his and there is a glisten that shimmers through the irises of your eyes  as you stare back at him that catches the spare bit of light illuminating the room and it makes him unable to pull his sight away. You’ve been quiet this entire time, but he still expects you to say something, anything, break the silence because he isn’t going to do it. The lieutenant doesn’t say a word as he keeps his eyes plastered to your face. His gaze drifts down to your lips where they linger only a moment before finally he watches you open them to speak. 

“But, you know, it wasn’t the sound of you fucking stroking yourself that woke me up,” you say and his eyes drift back up to meet yours. “Been in the military long enough to know that when you gotta relieve pressure, no matter the situation, you just gotta fucking do it. No, that wasn’t it.”

You pause and he waits on baited breath for you to finish the thought. He needs you to finish the thought so he can do something about how you are over his lap, nearly rubbing up against the tip of his hard cock.

Reaching for the bundled up edge of his shirt still resting at the top of his stomach, you give it a tug to draw his attention to it, brushing your knuckles over the hair covering his abdomen and he fidgets trying to keep quiet as ecstasy-filled synapses spark over his skin from your touch. 

It isn’t hard to miss that the contact has a certain effect, but you don’t say anything and instead continue your thought. “Your muzzle really isn’t that effective at buffering the sound…when you absentmindedly said my name in a moan. Care to explain why I was in your head?”

The lieutenant bristles and your smirk is as sly as a foxes. “Have I been in there long, sir?”  

That strong jaw shifts back and forth as he breathes in deep through his nostrils to try and calm his pounding heart from beating out of his chest. You’ve barely touched him and it is already rendering him nearly incoherent, but he has to pull it together cause he won’t give you the satisfaction of making him fall apart, especially and until he figures out what the hell is going on.

“Why don’ ya just go on back ta fuckin’ sleep ‘stead a askin’ questions?” he pushes back. “I’s late.”

You shake your head. “Suddenly I’m not so tired anymore. Come on, I promise I won’t tell,” you lower your voice “How many times have you stroked it to the thought of me?”

“Bed,” he barks, but you aren’t having it.

“I’m already in one and I’m not moving until you tell me.” 

Fine, he’s already caught anyway. What’s the harm in the truth? You already have enough ammo to use this against him, what’s a little more? 

“Alright, ya really wanna know? Do ya ‘ave any fuckin’ idea what it’s like to want someone and feel like you’re unable ta do anything ‘bout it?” he growls. His intense gaze never waivers and yours doesn’t either. “I mean, we ain’t exactly chummy with each other, what the fuck was I ‘spose ta do other than rub one out ta get it outta my system? Do ya know how bad I’ve been fuckin’ achin’ to ‘ave my way with ya?”

You tilt your head. “Is that why you’re always in such a piss poor mood when I’m around? Cause you want to bury that cock of yours in me so fucking bad? Is that right, Simon?”  

He smirks in return, running the tip of his tongue slyly over his top lip to buy him enough time to calm his racing heart down from hearing you say his name before his hand juts up from his side to find its way onto the back of your head tangling in your hair. 

He gives the strands a rough tug that makes you grin instead of wince. “Who said ya could fuckin’ call me that?” he waits for your answer a moment, knowing you won’t give one before continuing “And what’s your fuckin’ excuse for the way ya act, hmm? Maybe ya want me ta bury my cock in ya, princess.”

You move your face in nearer despite his grip, your lips ghosting so close to his that he can feel the heat of your breath on them. “Are we going to keep sitting here exchanging insults…” the sentence gets interrupted by a hiss from him as you rock your hips so that your pajama clothed pussy brushes over top of his bulge, “...or are we going to do something about this? Cause maybe we just found a way we can stand each other and you’re letting it slip by.”

A chuckle emanates from deep in his chest. “Fuck you,” he grunts.

The tip of your nose bumps against the tip of his as again you move your hip and you can feel the sharp inhale he takes as it steals some of the air from your mouth. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to get you to do, Simon. So, you better make up your fucking mind fast. Am I going back to sleep or…?”

That dam of need he’s kept walled up inside himself for this long had never been tested like this before and as you roll your hips one last time it finally bursts open with such force that there is no stopping the flood. Simon is no longer in control of his actions, though he still has a bit of sense left that he lets out in a terse comment before he lets himself completely go.

“I can’t fuckin’ stand how much I need ya, but you ain’t goin’ anywhere, princess,” he says in a groan and before the last syllable is even uttered his hand at the back of your head pushes your head in towards him so rapidly that you can feel the last word die on your mouth before he mauls you in a kiss that overwhelms your entire face.

A kiss that you cannot get enough of and you meet his intensity and desperation with the same magnitude of your own.

All he needs from this point on is you, all he wants in this moment is you. Nothing else in the world matters or exists except the two of you tangling your limbs and lips together in a union he has obsessively fantasized over for so fucking long it makes him ravenous for each kiss, each, touch, trying to satisfy that burning desire he had suppressed. And by the way you meet his kisses with a ferocity, he knows that you will take it all, anything that he has to give. 

Suddenly, in a display of his sheer strength, he grabs you tightly in his arms and flips you both over so that your back is now pressed into the mattress and his body weight is crushing you into it, causing the kisses overwhelming your mouth to not be the only thing making it harder to breathe. His heart is racing, his blood feeling like fire in his veins as he briefly breaks his mouth away to look down at you beneath him, swallowed under the bulk of his body; the angle he’s dreamed of seeing you in. His lips lock back to your own, devouring every heated kiss that you give to him like a man starved.

You moan into his mouth as he thrusts his hand down the top of your short pajama bottoms and into your panties while he pins his lips tighter against yours to swallow the sound of your pleasure down like water and keep it from escaping into the room. He has needed this for so long that now that he has it, he can’t get enough and he won’t waste a single note of it.

The lieutenant is flying blind, but his desire won’t let him falter in his movements. He struggles to keep as much attention he can scrounge up to observe you, read your body, let your sounds guide him so that he can adjust his actions. He isn’t worried about the rush, he is going to be thorough in finding all the ways that can make you fall apart for him and have you completely addicted to him by the end.

Simon’s thick fingers spread apart the silky, warm lips of your pussy and he slides the middle one right up your slit to your clit where he presses the rough pad against it harshly and begins to draw tight circles over it. He is not hesitant at all, touching you like he owns that thing between your legs and you are rendered dumb within just a couple of minutes of him stroking his finger over that small bud.

You’d seen his hands before, meticulously cataloged each thick finger both in and out of his skeleton-patterned gloves and mused about what they would feel like against you, on you, in you. So you know exactly how big they are, but having them between your thighs is an entirely different thing. They are strong, precise, everything a trained professional should be and you know you don’t stand a chance against how he decides to use them. 

The more he plays, the more that other hand of his he wants to put to good use and so he slips it up under the hem of your shirt to roughly push it up revealing your soft torso until it reaches the point that he will have to pull from your mouth to rip it off over your head. 

Simon tears the fabric off your body, flings it away, and lets his dark eyes linger on your naked curves to take you in as if seeing you for the first time all over again. He’s seen you almost every day that you’ve been a part of this team, but he has never been able to see you like this: naked, breasts on full display with their hardening nipples, the muscles along your torso clenching as his hand in your bottoms is quickly making a mess. 

But all this newly revealed bare skin calls to him and he pulls his fingers out of your cunt to cross his arms over his abdomen while grabbing the bottom of the shirt he still has covering his chest so that he can quickly pull it up and off in one fluid motion. He tosses the piece of clothing to the ground atop yours and immediately dives in to press tight to you while letting his touch glide over the contours of your exposed skin until his fingertips tremble with ecstasy. 

There is an electrical pulse that bursts over his flesh as your bodies connect skin to skin for the very first time, an attraction that is magnetic in its design, and he groans deeply as he nips at your bottom lip lightly. “God dammit, why tha fuck do ya feel so fuckin’ good?” he huffs in a desperate strain of his gruff voice as his fingers slip up into the short pant leg of your pajamas so that they can go right back to servicing your now damp pussy.

A shuddered breath escapes his lips, the corners upturning into a sinister grin as an idea strikes him and suddenly he is bringing his head in towards your chest, moving to one side and opening his mouth so that he can graze the tip of your nipple with the edge of his teeth before he circles it with the tip of his tongue. 

God damn, where the fuck did he learn something like that?

You let out a whimper as the feeling he elicits from your breast when he does it again can be felt in your clit, making the stroke of his finger even more potent. “F-fuuck…” you say in a shaky breath and you swear you can feel that bastard smile into your tit as he hums with satisfaction that his maneuver worked just like he had hoped as he switches sides to do the same to the other. 

Satisfied with how your nipples are nice and hard, his lips press into your breast so he can suck them into his mouth and now he has you right where he wants you- whimpering and bucking your hips into his hand to grind harder on his fingers. He knows right now he can do anything he likes and your body will force you to comply just to get him to keep going…and he is still feeling raw from being the only one to have to confess the extent of his need earlier.  

That hot mouth unsuctions from your breast with a pop.“Admit it,” he demands abruptly as he pulls his mouth away from your skin. “Admit ya have been achin’ for me just as bad as I’ve been achin’ for you.”

Caught up in the pleasure, you close your eyes and ignore his order to talk, wanting to only focus on the sensations causing your mind to get more hazy by the second. “Don’t stop,” you moan instead. “We’ll talk later.”

Without a word he drags his finger down through the gathering wetness in your slit away from your clit and lifts it out to settle it on the crease between the lips of your cunt and your leg, forcing you to open your eyes to him as you whine in protest. “Ya heard me tha first time,” he says.

You desperately try to wriggle your hips to maybe somehow get him to slip back in, but his free hand keeps your body restrained in place. He’s strong, strong enough that you aren’t going to get anywhere trying to push back against him. The only way you’re gonna get him to keep going is to speak…and you better do it fast because you cannot take this torture.

“Okay, okay,” you give in with a frustrated sigh; you made him admit, it’s only fair you do the same. “There is just something about you, I can’t explain it. This…desire… came out of nowhere and it’s been torturing me for a long time now. And then all this happened and I thought I wasn’t going to make it; I need you so bad sometimes it feels like I’m going to fucking combust. Then I heard you say my name tonight and the only thing I could think as I walked over is that I hope he will want to act on whatever he’s fantasizing about. Is that good enough?”  

Simon’s hand moves back to inside your lips, but it isn’t back up towards your clit. His finger gathers a friend and he moves them both down to your entrance where he aligns them quickly before slamming them up into you until the lips of your pussy hit his palm.

“That’ll do,” he praises in a low growl that gets quickly drowned out by your moan from the stretch of your walls to accommodate his large digits.

God you’re so fucking tight around his fingers it’s enough to drive him insane and his cock throbs as his excitement grows to thrust it inside, but not yet; it’ll do for now just to hump the back of his hand against your pussy until he’s finished prepping your body for what’s to come. 

Over and over he heatedly ruts against you and the bulge in the crotch of his pants hardens again into a stiff peak that tents his clothes. There are only a few measly pieces of fabric that separate your bodies and that only makes him grind harder and harder, scrambling for a tiny bit more friction. You match his energy by wrapping your thighs around his hips so you can roll your body into him and ride his fingers curling up inside until you feel the drip of your honey down his hand to gather into the crotch of your panties.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans.

You nod. “I’m ready,” you say desperately. “Fuck me; I need you inside me.”

Your plea goes unanswered for a moment as his fingers continue until you hear him chuckle; it’s anything but cheerful.“No.” The statement is short, but powerful.

“What?” you gasp, your breathing heavy.

That familiar tension is starting to build inside that causes your limbs to tingle and you know that if he keeps the rhythm steady that it won’t be long and he will make you cum. A part of you wants him to stop and fuck you, but the other part, the part that is surprised at his skill with his hands, wants him to keep going. You don’t have to struggle with the weight of deciding too long as your decision is made for you.  

“You’re not getting a god damn thing more till ya cum for me right now, princess,” he demands, “all over my fuckin’ fingers. Wanna feel it. Ya don’t know what you’re gettin’ yourself into; you’re gonna ‘ave ta be nice and wet ‘fore ya take me.”

That pressure is welling up inside you, ready to burst at any second as long as he keeps his strokes steady. Your mouth falls open and hangs slack so you can simply breathe as each minute that passes brings you to that edge until that heated knot in your core finally becomes so pressurized that it bursts open and sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body like a river of fire.

You cry out as your body lurches and your hips buck against his hand and he groans in ecstasy to feel your body clench around his fingers. “There ya go princess, let it out,” he coaxes as he curls his fingers over and over inside you through your orgasm until you finally relax as the ecstasy subsides.

You lay there breathing heavily as you try to contemplate how hard you just came, but your thoughts are wrangled back into the present as you feel heated lips against your neck trailing down to your collarbone.

Simon pauses and pulls his face back up to meet yours for only a moment; he is on a mission and can’t be stopped for long. “I am gonna fuckin’ ruin ya,” he snarls his deadly promise into your face before flashing a smirk and diving back into his work. 

Your body is burning under his fingertips as if everywhere he touches he sets ablaze and he can feel it as his lips follow closely behind. Down the line of your abdomen he places his kisses: over your ribcage, across your waist, over your belly button, and coming to a stop right above your shorts. 

His fingers hook into the fabric. “Lift your hips,” he urges and you follow his request as he grips into the material to pull them over the curve of your backside and down your thighs, tugging them the last bit off your feet and tossing them out of the way.

Only the skimpy bit of fabric that is your soaked panties remains, but his feral brain will only let him remove them one way and it isn’t with his hands. He moves in by lowering his head to your pelvis, his warm breath traveling over the sensitive skin just below your belly button until he raises goosebumps across the surface in response. The scent of your arousal fills his nostrils and it only fuels his urges with fervor.

“Christ, Simon,” you moan at delicious feeling of the damp heat from his mouth warming your skin, followed immediately by a louder one as the stubble on his jaw pricks you as the touch of his lips meets your body so that his teeth can sink into the top of your panties. 

Your head pops up over the line of your body at the strange sensation just in time to watch him slink down over your legs with shoulders arched and muscles rippling across his back while dragging the cloth of your panties stuck securely between his teeth. He looks up so his eyes can lock onto yours as he goes and you swear you can see them darken with the untamed desire that is floating in their depths, desire to give in to all that he has denied himself for so long and unleash it on you in the most depraved ways.   

He makes it to the end of your legs and harshly pulls the fabric off, holding the garment in his mouth like an animal as his chest heaves strenuously up and down with each labored breath. God, he can’t stop the way your body holds his gaze hostage. He is drowning in the beauty of you as he stares with baited breath, admiring how all this gorgeous flesh that he has pinned to get just a glimpse of time and again is right in his grasp and all he has to do now is reach out and take it.

Taking your damp panties out of his mouth and setting them onto the bed, he pops his gaze back up to your eyes. “Open your legs,” he says, inhaling sharply as you follow his direction and he sees your naked pussy presented to him. 

He tries to be as coherent as he can through the heavy panting he cannot settle, mix that with the visceral reaction he has to seeing you bare and dripping before him and his temperature begins to skyrocket so that the overwhelming desire he feels for you in that moment is strangling him like a straightjacket of heat.

Suddenly he is overwhelmed with an insatiable hunger to get at you with his tongue, wanting to feel you squirm across his face as his mouth makes contact and he begins to lap at you like a hungry dog. He needs you to make an absolute mess of cum across his stark features as he uses his tongue to draw out your pleasure until your scent has fused with his skin and your nectar has awakened the taste buds in his mouth.

Crawling on all fours he stalks back in close and in the haze of his desire, he grabs your thighs harshly to spread them even wider as he drops down onto his stomach. “Was jus’ gonna fuck ya, but not yet,” he growls. “You’re gonna cum again and I’m gonna eat ya out till ya do.”

No more words, he ignores your pleas to give you a moment as he moves his face in and places his lips to the petals of your pussy in delicate kisses that send shivers up the length of your spine from the stimulation and makes your head strike back into the mattress as you cry out.

You shut your eyes tight as you are immediately overwhelmed with the sensation of his lips pressed between your legs as he uses his tongue to push through them so he can suction around that sweet little bud and sucks it into his mouth. 

The sensation from your still tender cunt makes you buck your hips and slam them against his nose, but that doesn’t deter him one bit. The thrill of the struggle to eat you out while you’re still so sensitive is what makes him want more; Simon wants those whining cries and moans, wants to feel trapped against you as your muscles flex and make you lock your legs around his ears.

It takes a bit, but soon the slight discomfort subsides and all that’s left is the ecstasy of his agile tongue. Your hand finds the back of his blonde head and pushes down so that he is pressed tighter against you. Simon hums his pleasure deep inside his chest at the act of being forced to suffocate against you and the grip wrapped around your thighs tightens as if he is physically trying to hold on to his sanity.

The moisture rolls down Simon’s strong chin, through the stubble on his jaw, and drips down his face onto the sheets beneath him so that a noticeable dark stain begins to form on the fabric. Good, get him filthy, wreck his sheets, he doesn’t care. He isn’t going to stop licking and sucking no matter how bad it gets.  

How does he do it? How does he keep up the stamina to keep going at your clit with his tongue with just as much vigor as when he started minutes and minutes ago? You whine and it seems to make him go in harder, you buck and he is not deterred; you’ve never been treated like it was a fucking pleasure to get the opportunity to eat you out before.

Just the insatiable way Simon uses his mouth to pleasure you is enough of an aphrodisiac to kickstart the second gathering of warmth in your belly.

You want to cum again for him and so you leave him to his work and focus on letting him go wild. Giving up that control is what it takes and within minutes, you can feel that tautness inside about to give way to your ecstasy. You go completely silent and with a few more strokes of his tongue your orgasm comes on strong so that your legs draw together out of reflex to the overwhelming euphoria. 

Your thighs are wrapped around him so tight that if you don’t let up he is going to die between your legs from lack of oxygen, but still he doesn’t give up; if he dies, he dies. The air is slowly slipping away and just before he goes to pry you open so that he can escape, your body relaxes and you release your hostage as you sink into the mattress.

Simon rolls onto his side and rests his head against the shaking muscle of your thigh to catch his breath, lifting his eyes to gaze at the mess shimmering as it leaks from between the lips of your pussy, the mess that is entirely his doing. He smiles to himself as he wipes away the spit and cum that’s accumulated on his chin before he sits up and moves back over top of you. 

“God damn, ya never sounded better than when you’re cummin’ for me,” he breathes the words against your raw mouth as he steals it again, trying to drink your whimpers as you come back down that second time.  

There is a bit of fidgeting between your bodies that you can feel as he keeps your face at his mercy, but soon it becomes clear that he is wrestling down his sweats off his hips and kicking them off his legs. 

Through a panting breath you beg him. “Please.”

That’s all you have to say to make your intention clear, that one word is all he needs to understand what you’re imploring him to do; you need to feel him, even though you aren’t even sure you can stand another orgasm. It doesn’t matter, you need his cock inside you - now.

The tip of his free cock throbs against the skin on your thigh and he grabs your hand to wrap around it so you can get your bearings on what he has to work with; it’s definitely got some girth.  “Tha’s all for you,” he grunts as your hand tightens around the shaft. “Ya want it, princess?”

Staying silent, your hand still wrapped around it, you move it to align the head with your sopping entrance. You can taste the distinct musk of yourself in his kiss that he steals as he pushes his hips forward and presses the tip against the membrane. 

“I’ll go slow,” he reassures in a whisper on your mouth, “jus’ breathe for me.” 

Those strong hands hold your hips steady as he clenches his abdominals and drives the tip of his cock carefully up into you until your body gives way to his girth. The stretch causes your walls to expand quickly and you cry out at the delicious feeling of suddenly being so completely full of him. 

Christ, you’re so tight that he has to pause and pant heavily to gain control of his sanity before he attempts to continue or else he risks coming too soon. And nothing, absolutely nothing, is going to make this moment you’ve both waited agonizingly long for be over before it’s begun.  

“Tha’s it, sweetheart, tha’s it,” he struggles to get the words out coherently. 

His thrusts start slow, hips rocking back and forth easy until he is sure he can pick up the pace without losing it. As the speed increases so does the strength, each new thrust hitting harder and harder as he holds onto your hips to keep your body from being shoved away from the intensity.  

“Fuck…ya drive me insane,” he grunts, his fingertips digging into the meat of your hips so hard you can already feel the skin begin to bruise. “And I can’t fuckin’ get enough a it.”

His breaths are now ragged, each one more of a struggle to draw in than the last and his thrusts become more sloppy with each pass as he fights himself to gain back control.

“Your mine,” he groans with a fierceness that sets your soul on fire to hear. “All mine, no one else can fuckin’ have ya. Understand? You belong ta me. Say it, say ‘I’m yours, Simon’.”

There isn’t a moment of hesitation as the words fall effortlessly from your lips. “I’m yours, Simon,” you repeat his words and he slams into your hard.

He drills his fingertips into your soft thighs to hold on to them like handlebars. “Say it again,” he commands.

“I’m yours, Simon.”

He frees one of his hands from your thighs to find the back of your neck and closing his eyes, he leans forward while pulling your head towards him to rest against you with foreheads touching. “Again.” The needy word is barely audible.

You steady your voice by taking a deep breath. “Simon, I am only yours,” you reassure and again he slams his cock into you more vigorously in response.

He could ask you to repeat the phrase ad nauseam until you are hoarse and he would still want to hear it again; he can’t get enough of the way it makes his heart pound faster and faster to hear you say it with such conviction as his cock is buried inside you. It’s the only thing he wants, the only thing he craves, and he cannot help the way he wants to hear it again so he can commit it to memory in case this is all some big dream he will soon wake up from. 

Your bodies slip against each other more now as the perspiration created from your copulation coats over all that exposed skin until you both sparkle in the soft light of the room. His hips roll into you with a sense of urgency; he’s close, but he has to be sure you come first. Reaching between your bodies into the gap created from this position, he guides his hand down the warm, glistening skin of your pelvis to slip his fingers back between your damp petals and up against your swollen clit. 

You mewl pitifully into his face with your mouth hung open as the pleasure radiates out from that tiny bead that his fingers rub over down into your core and you can’t help but try and push against his hand that is keeping your head locked to his as you desperately try to arch your back. “Gonna cum again,” you struggle to say. 

Simon nods his head against yours. “Finish for me, sweetheart,” he groans against your bottom lip as his fingers slip through all that natural lubrication that begins to dribble down over the back of his hand towards his knuckles the longer he strokes. “I need ya ta cum one more fuckin’ time for me.”

Your walls are fluttering around him, the pressure in the pit of your stomach almost painful as your body strains to bring you to orgasm for the last time. But it can’t be stopped even if you wanted it to, you are at the point of no return and there is no turning back. You whimper into his face, loud and pitiful, seeing stars in the darkness behind your closed eyes. 

He adjusts his head and opens his eyes so his sight can watch the movement of your bodies, watching to make sure that he is keeping steady. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he grunts, about to cum himself, “come on my cock. Show me how I’m tha only one that knows how ta make ya come.”

A few hesitant groans and your body clenches as you reach climax once again, only this time the wave of pleasure is more intense as his cock is buried inside you. And Simon feels it, the way you core squeezes him and he can’t hold off from cumming any longer. At the last possible second he pulls out of you and up between your thighs as his warm cum shoots out the tip of his cock to cover your stomach. 

Through the mind-numbing ecstasy flooding your body to make your limbs tingle, you quickly reach for him and wrap your hand around his shaft firmly, stroking it to milk his orgasm for as long as possible as he grunts deep and guttural while writhing in your touch. His fingers sink into your thighs as he sits back and lets you finish him off until he slows his movements and places his large hand atop yours, causing you to immediately slow to a stop.  

Your hand releases him and falls heavily onto the mattress beside you as you lay there and try to calm your breathing. The sweat along your curves starts to cool your burning skin the longer you stay still and it isn’t much longer before you start to get a chill. The hulking officer still kneeling between your legs is able to gain control of himself after a few minutes and moves to lay beside you on the bed, but not before stretching himself to the floor to grab his shirt.

Simon moves in closer and using the top he wipes up his cum off your stomach carefully, making sure to get it all before tossing the garment back to the ground. You turn your head to look up into his face as he props himself up on his elbow and meets your gaze.

“You going soft on me?” you ask, your tone light and playful as you are too tired to even try and pretend your usual attitude towards him is going to be kept up now.

Grabbing your hand he laces his fingers through the spaces in between your own, his thumb stroking over your knuckles gently. “Just keep quiet and fuckin’ enjoy it, yeah?” he returns, pulling your arm to roll you over so you are against his chest. 

He leans down and captures your lips so you can’t say anything else. Suddenly these new room assignments don’t seem so bad. In fact, you may just become a permanent bunk mate in his room no matter what comes in the next few weeks if this keeps up…and he is going to be sure it keeps up.

[superswet]

🌪️ whirlwind.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: the bar has always been a safe haven after a long week of storm-chasing, but when tyler owens decides you’re his lucky charm for the night, you find that scott’s control has its limits. Word Count: 6.4k (pls don't look at me) Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, mentions of near-death experiences, tornadoes (obviously), brief insinuations to cheating, tyler is a pot-stirrer, public sex, dry humping, fingering (f!receiving), degradation, nipple play (f!receiving), orgasm delay, biting?, scott miller has a whore mouth, minor choking, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart), lots of dirty talk, no use of y/n A/N: my first time posting fic & writing for scott so pls go easy on me 🥺 sometimes you just have to let a smug little asshole take over ur entire life, am i right? if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

It’s been a grueling week, one tornado after another hammering Oklahoma into a state of disarray.

You’re still shaken from the last one, the anxiety of being alone in a motel with your thoughts almost unbearable. You’ve tried to avoid being alone since then, afraid that something worse is always on the horizon, and the thought of being isolated in a room while the rest of the team is out doesn’t sit well.

The bar, though, is a familiar sanctuary. A small comfort amidst the chaos. Even though you’re drained and the idea of socializing feels monumental, tradition is tradition. Javi’s sad puppy eyes and the inevitable guilt trip on the drive back to HQ tomorrow is enough to push you out of bed and into the shower.

And, as much as you don’t want to go, it feels wrong when even Scott makes an effort to go.

By the time you step into the dimly lit bar, clinking glasses and the hum of chatter soothe your worries quickly away. Whirlwind may have seen more than its fair share of fights and other throes of debauchery, but it was a frequent, favorite stop.

And it’s already packed. Between the locals and the other storm-chasers crowding the space, you can’t find Storm Par anywhere. A roar of laughter strikes from the pool tables, and you quickly pocket your phone, realizing you’ll have no luck calling or texting when it won’t even be heard over the noise.

Oh, well. You’ll find them soon enough. Making your way to the bar to greet Jack, the burly bartender who’s been running the place for years and has grown more familiar to you the more you frequent, you hear — rather than see — one of the storm-chasers you were hoping to avoid tonight.

Tyler. God damn. Owens.

You weren’t struck by his Southern charm — your days of easy flattery were past you — but he was hard to ignore. Then again, you should’ve known better by now. Tyler always seemed to be at his best when he had a crowd buzzing around him.

“I thought tonight couldn’t get any better, and then you walked in,” he drawls, finding a space alongside you as he sets his empty beer bottle down, his voice smooth. “Can I buy you a drink, darlin’?”

You consider turning him down, not sure if you’re up for his ego tonight, but you also know Tyler. He wasn't swayed easily, especially if he saw a challenge. Besides, a free drink was well, free, and as grating as he could get, you supposed one couldn't hurt. So you nod. “Sure, why not.”

Jack, who’d wordlessly gotten your drink as Tyler approached, sets a bottle of your favorite down in front of you, his brow raising to get your attention. You hesitate before taking it and catch his gaze shift slightly past you.

Before you get a chance to follow, Tyler steals your focus with a grin, the ever-present pain in your ass. You can’t fight your instincts to be polite. “So tell me. What’s a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

You meet his gaze, all swirling hues and open attraction. Maybe if you were that kind of girl, his smooth, clichéd lines would work on you. But you weren’t that girl. You preferred sensible. Practical. Safe. It was why you’d joined Storm Par in the first place, rather than one of the many other crews. This tornado wrangler just wasn’t for you.

Unfortunately for Tyler, he always seemed to miss that memo.

“Same as everyone else, I guess.” You laugh half-heartedly. Maybe if the conversation is light enough, you can slip away without it turning into a spectacle. “Just looking to unwind.”

If Tyler notices your lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he makes a show of settling into his spot next to you, grin stretching wide. The beer in his hands is fresh and cold, same as yours, though unlike yourself he’s already taken a few drinks while you start to pick at the label. Javi would've poked fun by now, but your friend is nowhere near. Typical.

Tyler takes another drink, resting his arm on the bar, your eyes drifting to his tanned bicep. His grin stretches when he catches you looking, and you try not to scowl at falling for his display.

He continues with a well-used, “Well, you sure do brighten up the place.”

Thank god. Playing along, you don’t waste a second as your gaze wanders eagerly around the bar. From your new position you spot a cluster of tables on the other side of the room, Storm Par filling out the seats.

Scott sits alone at one of them, as he always did, but his posture is rigid, and even from a distance you can tell his focus is far from the game of darts Javi tries to include him in. Unsurprising. But rather than being distracted by his phone, worrying about the next job the team would have to take, his eyes are locked in on you.

The intensity makes you shiver. A few bottles sit empty next to him, and you only know they’re his by the unmistakable Guinness label adorning the side. A half-empty glass rests in his hand like he’d meant to take a sip before catching sight of Tyler.

Since joining Storm Par, the number of things you knew about Scott could be counted on your fingers. And in that time, you’d never seen him unwind. Not truly, anyway. As frustrating as it could be, you'd come to respect Scott's unwavering demeanor.

Amidst the chaos, no matter how intense it got, Scott was the stoic anchor of the team. There was a reason for his lectures and regulations. He was as dependable as the code he lived by, but most of the team often dismissed it as rigid and unnecessary. You knew it took strength and reliability to remain true to your values.

Much like you were forgoing now, your polite smile tight on your lips.

Beyond Javi, the rest of the team is scattered around Whirlwind, some dancing with reckless abandon on the makeshift dance floor while others clink shots over a job well done with the other storm-chasing crews. Scott is still firmly planted on the barstool, setting his glass down with a white-knuckled grip.

Tyler, of course, pays no attention. He leans in, casually inching closer to you, wrapping up some story of an exaggerated Wrangler exploit. Close enough to brush against you. When you glance down at the contact, Tyler notices where you’ve grown distracted, that easygoing grin slipping as he takes in your view.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tyler says with a sigh, head shaking in disbelief. “Just admit it — I’m a hell of a lot more fun than Storm Cloud over there.”

You disagree, but keep it to yourself. Tyler and his crew were reckless, and, sure, while there was some level of risk that came with what you all did, there was a clear difference between you and them. 

It was part of what had drawn you to Scott in the first place. He was meticulous and no-nonsense, quick to call out mistakes whether you were out in the field or back in the office. But even Scott wasn't immune to a lecture or two — something he'd gone to great lengths to keep under lock and key.

And you only knew by accident.

Another sleepless night had driven you out of your room in search of coffee, leading you to a diner where you’d stumbled across him and Riggs in a heated discussion. Your Mama had taught you manners about eavesdropping, but you were frozen in place, listening to Riggs furiously drill into Scott over another fuck up (not his fault) and whether he was serious or not about the work they were doing. Before you could slip away unnoticed, not wanting to be lectured too, Scott’s eyes met yours, giving you a small, subtle shake of his head.

You’d run straight back to your room after, hoping that maybe it'd been a weird nightmare and you’d wake up to business as usual. But after another hour of tossing and turning, Scott’s familiar knock sounded at your door, and when you’d gathered the courage to meet him face to face, he’d looked just as conflicted as you felt. After what you’d heard, the way Scott took responsibility for every mistake and didn't throw anyone under the bus, keeping it between you two was the least you could do.

Something changed after that night. When a particularly nasty tornado touched ground a few weeks later and nearly swept you up in it, nobody questioned Scott’s decision to reassign you to Scarecrow. Nobody questioned why your partner had quit shortly after, either.

Scott still hadn’t asked why you’d been awake that night, just the same as you didn’t ask about Riggs.

You glance over at Scott again now, the memory fresh in your mind. His knuckles are just as white as when you’d found him in the diner, expression still shadowed, like he’s torn between intervening and letting it play out. But even with a crowd between you and the two men, the tension is thick, crackling in the air.

Tyler leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper as glances over at Scott. “He’s got that brooding thing down to an art, doesn’t he? Don’t you ever crave a little spontaneity?”

You shift away from Tyler, the weight of Scott’s gaze growing heavy. From the corner of your eye you can just barely make out the hard set to his jaw, no longer working the cinnamon gum he obsessively kept on him. You manage a tight smile, distracted, as Javi’s voice rises briefly above the noise — your attention divided between the brewing storm on the other end of the bar and the eye of the one you were currently stuck in.

“I… I think we all have our reasons for sticking around.” You say, just as Javi finally notices you, his smile dimming as his gaze slides to Tyler.

Shit.

“Oh, I’m sure you do.” Tyler’s drawl is playful, almost teasing, and if he sees that you’re not even looking at him anymore, he doesn’t seem to care. “I’m just saying. If you ever want to get away from Clipboard over there...”

This time you do look with a flash of agitation. “If I wanted that, I’d be part of your team, Tyler. Not his.”

“Now, hold on, just hear me out for a second.” Tyler takes another pull from his drink, but when he sets it back down, he’s too close yet again. Fingers brush unwarranted against you, his touch lingering in a way that immediately makes your skin crawl. “How about we make a deal? Let me show you a good time tonight, and I promise you won’t even remember his name by the end of it.”

The suggestion hangs heavy in the air. You're only just barely aware of the way your features shift as background noise fades and you’re left with a high-pitched ringing in your ears, each emotion rolling through you longer to process than the last. By the time disgust sets in, flinching away from his wandering hands, you see past the red just enough to catch his grin widening in amusement.

And you realize, with terrifying clarity, that he’s been toying with you the whole night, just to start something with your team. You try not to tremble, swallowing your rage, and remind yourself that you'll be kicked out if dump your drink on him.

A stool scrapes loudly from the other side of the room. Whatever semblance of peace snaps.

“Uh oh.” Tyler notices Scott’s approach, and has the audacity to flash you a smile. “Looks like we’ve got company. He sure knows how to kill a mood, doesn’t he?”

You don't have a chance to respond, Scott stopping beside you, barely restrained anger coming off him in waves. You instinctively step closer to him, your drink forgotten and unwanted on the bar. His eyes flash with anger as he regards Tyler, that muscle working overtime in his jaw — and you know he's seen everything, from Tyler whispering into your ear to the look of repulse that you'd tried to hide.

“We need to talk.” Scott’s gaze shifts to you. You recognize the silent message he sends, the urgency in his voice as he fights to control his composure for your sake. “Now.”

“Ouch, Scotty. Not even a hello? And here I thought manners came with that fancy degree.” Tyler whistles low, appraising Scott like he’s not seconds away from getting his nose broken. “I was just getting acquainted with your friend over here. Giving her the whole Wrangler pitch. You know how it goes.” His smirk growing, he takes your silence as a cue to continue. “Come to think of it, wasn’t that how Gabby left? Told me she was over all the huffin' and puffin', especially after—”

“Enough.” Scott's interjection is loud and clear, your heart stuttering at the icy tone. When he slides an arm around your waist, the weight unfamiliar, you can’t tell if it’s to keep you from lunging at Tyler, or himself. You glance between Tyler's satisfied grin and the glare Scott sends him, confused. Who was Gabby? “Shut the fuck up for once, Owens. Seriously. Do us all a fucking favor.”

You still swim with questions as Scott pulls you close, no longer waiting for Tyler’s approval or response — not that he needed it in the first place. Lights cast long shadows as he navigates you between tables, the ringing in your ears lessening the further away from Tyler you get. Scott ushers you out the nearest exit, his palm warm against the small of your back.

The back door slams shut with a final click as you spill out into the alley together. It’s as dimly lit as the inside is, a singular dying bulb flickering just a few steps away. The sounds of the bar are muffled here now that your hearing has returned to normal, leaving only the distant hum of traffic and your ragged breathing.

The chilled air immediately hits you as Scott pulls away, and you watch, lost, as he paces angrily while you try to sort your thoughts out.

“What the hell was that? I thought you said you weren’t coming tonight.” Scott’s voice is sharp, cutting through the night like a knife. He turns to face you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his scowl reflecting the look he gets when he's about to unleash on someone. “You said you needed space, time to clear your head… So why are you here? With him?”

“I know. Plans change,” you reply, caught off-guard, hoping to sound casual even as you hook your finger nervously under the strap of your dress. You’ve never seen Scott this worked up before, and it’s unsettling.

“Plans change?” Scott scoffs, his voice rising with every word. “That’s your excuse? You say one thing, and then do the complete opposite? What was your plan, then? To drink with Tyler and maybe let him drive you home? Was that the idea?”

You’re taken aback by the sharpness of his words. “It was just a drink, Scott. I needed to get out and clear my head.”

“Just a drink?” Scott’s eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer, his frustration barely contained. “Do you really think I’m that naive? Tyler doesn’t just do ‘just a drink.’ He’s always looking for something more. And you—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “He makes a mess of everything he touches. You know what he’s like. Hell, you’re smart enough to see through his bullshit. So why are you letting him get close to you?”

“Scott, it’s not like that,” you protest, your voice wavering slightly under his scrutiny. “I needed to get out. It had nothing to do with him.”

“And you couldn’t find another way to clear your head? Without him? Without the guy who’s known for causing chaos?” His voice is thick with emotion, the carefully controlled mask he usually wears slipping away to reveal the raw frustration and fear beneath. “You think I don’t see what’s happening here? I’ve been through this before, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you make the same mistakes.”

“What are you implying?” You ask, confused and angry.

“I’m saying I think you’re using Tyler as a distraction,” Scott says, his voice sharp, “A way to escape from everything you’ve been dealing with.”

Frustration prickles at his words, and even though you try not to, it’s hard to keep the edge from your voice. “Escape? That’s not— I’m not running away from anything.”

“We’ve had a rough week. I know it’s been hard on you,” Scott says, his tone softening slightly, though he still looks on edge. His jaw ticks again, and your gaze immediately darts to the pack of gum you know he keeps in his right back pocket. “But if you’re letting someone like Tyler pull you away from what really matters, it’ll only make things worse. I’ve seen too many people get hurt by him.”

Your anger flares at his scolding, hating that you found yourself in one storm, only to be led willingly into the next. “And what, Scott? You think you know me so well that you can just decide what’s best for me?”

“No, I’m just—” Scott shakes his head, taking a step toward you, then rethinking it. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” You try to suppress a laugh, but it comes out bitter. “Safe doesn’t really exist in our line of work, and you know that.”

Scott’s eyes flash with a mix of frustration and something else you can’t quite place. He takes a deep breath, struggling to steady himself. “You think I don’t know that? When things go wrong, I need to know that I can count on the people around me to handle their shit.”

You raise an eyebrow, uncertain where this is going. “And what exactly does that have to do with Tyler or me?”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his tone almost pleading. “When you’re involved, everything gets complicated. I can’t think straight when you’re involved. I can’t focus. Hell, I can’t even sleep at night.”

Scott runs a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping tightly as if trying to ground himself. “That tornado— When the equipment malfunctioned because Dale failed to follow the calibration protocols I specifically fucking outlined— I was frozen, just paralyzed with fear. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I knew we couldn’t make it to you in time.”

You still, remembering how quickly Scott had cornered Dale when you got back. You’d thought it was because of the readings and the instructions he’d ignored that had nearly cost you both your lives.

Scott’s breath hitches as he continues. “It would’ve been my fault. My responsibility. My orders. I was convinced I’d lost you. And I thought if I could just keep you safe, try to control the chaos, that it might make things better. But seeing you with Tyler tonight... It’s like I’m back in that moment, feeling helpless, and I—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Look, I’m not going through that again. I can’t.”

His voice cracks, and you see the depth of his internal struggle. “I’m just… trying to protect you,” he admits quietly, “but I don’t know if you even see it that way.”

His words weigh heavy, the shock of it ripping right through you. Scott Miller didn't go out of his way to be kind.

You're pulled back through the last few months: the coffee, just the way you liked it, that Scott always had waiting for you after a chase; his lack of scorn when you fell asleep on him in the van the next morning, when exhaustion wins and his silence becomes safety; the lingering, unasked question on his lips every time you were tasked to go out onto the field again and you agreed, over and over, despite the very real fear of the very thing you chased.

For a moment, everything else fades away — Tyler, the bar, the noise.

“Scott.” Your voice breaks through the quiet in a whisper, drawing close to him. Your hands glide gently along the black fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. “I’m here,” you say, your voice steady but soft. “I’m with you.”

For a moment, that vulnerability continues to swim in his eyes. And then he steps closer, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. You think, for a split second of panic, that he means to push you away and close himself off the way he usually does; instead, his thumbs rub tenderly at your palms, the action so gentle and unlike him that it makes your breath stall.

Instinctively your gaze meets his, forgetting (as you often did) just how big he actually was. Tall, broad, and deliciously toned; when you thought of Scott, you thought of him behind a desk, not running laps around his neighborhood and clocking in hours at the gym. Your uniforms did an amazing job of hiding his physique, but it’s impossible to ignore now. His black undershirt clings to him like a second skin and reveals the hard, taut muscles of his body, further evidence of the control he wielded so effortlessly.

His eyes search yours, the intoxicating scent of his cologne enveloping you. You’ve never seen him so open before, and as his hands smooth down your arms to the curve of your waist, there’s a sense of urgency in his touch that he doesn’t vocalize.

Fear. Longing. Desire. His jaw sets again as his gaze drops to your mouth, and you think, for one terrifying moment, that he won’t do it. Would he regain his composure, push you away, then act like nothing had happened the next morning? His brows furrow, as if reading your thoughts. Maybe you’d be reassigned just to avoid the awkwardness of it all. Scott could send you packing with just a phone call.

Your heart pounds, frozen in place, each second lasting an eternity. His fingers flex on your waist, the electrifying touch causing your lips to part and your lashes to flutter. The sight makes his throat bob.

“God damn it,” he groans, his voice guttural.

It’s the only warning you get before his mouth descends onto yours. Though his lips are smooth, there’s nothing gentle about the way Scott kisses you. His mouth moves hungrily against yours, devouring and demanding and all-consuming, like you’re the very air he needs to breathe. You sigh, aching for more, that dull fire inside you growing hotter at the groan that escapes him. As he fists a hand in your hair, he wraps a strong arm around your middle to pull you closer, deepening the kiss.

“Scott…” Bunching his shirt in your hands, you’re helpless when he nips at your bottom lip, pulling desperate, needy sounds from you. As he trails hot open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, finding every spot with ease, his fingers wrap gently around your throat, your pulse racing against his thumb.

“God, I’ve wanted you like this for months,” Scott murmurs against your skin, his voice a low growl that makes your thighs clench. A soft moan escapes as you tilt your head to give him better access, his noise of approval rumbling deep in his throat. “I’ve dreamt of this.”

He presses you into the wall behind you as he ravages your neck, all teeth and tongue and the kind of marks that you’ll have to find excuses for in the morning. A shiver sends you arching up into him, fingers slipping into his hair as he palms your breast, lowering his mouth to suck a greedy mark there. You whine at the friction you’re missing, hips circling the air, desperately hooking your fingers into his belt loops to drag him closer.

“Shhh,” Scott pauses to hitch your leg up, slotting his knee between your thighs. Dark blue eyes drink in the sight of you as he squeezes your ass, a cocky smile spreading on his pink and swollen lips. “I know, sweetheart. That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You mewl when his knee brushes against your heat, enough to have you rolling helplessly against him but not enough to satisfy your desires. “So pretty, so desperate.”

“Yes,” You grip him harder for some semblance of a tether, that condescending, degrading voice only adding fuel to the fire. Did he know what you fantasized about late at night? The shower running to muffle your moans while you touched yourself to his deep voice, lecturing you over a simple mistake? Open desire swirls in your eyes, pleading now, every want laid bare for him. “Please, I want it.”

Scott’s low noise of approval sounds in his throat, pressing closer to give you what you need. You’d be half-ashamed at the way you eagerly grind against him if his own arousal wasn’t hard against your hip, straining, large and throbbing with every roll of your hips. The material of your panties do nothing to stop the delicious ache of his worn jeans against your clit, too many pieces of fabric between you, trying to quiet pretty sounds as you bite your lip.

“Look at you,” Scott growls, your dress inching higher as he seizes your hips, helping you find a rhythm. Hooking the lace of your panties under his fingers, he tugs the material up tight enough together to elicit a hiss, a dimple playing at the corner of his mouth as he smirks, “Is this all for me, baby?”

Barely managing a nod, you meet his eyes through thick lashes and whimper at the expression on his face. That intense gaze drinks in every inch of you like you’re a piece of art and the last thing he wants to remember, his usually stormy eyes hazy with desire.

“God damn... You just can’t get enough, can you, baby? When you touch yourself at night, do you think about me? Rubbing that needy little pussy on your pillow ‘cause you just can’t help it?” You press harder into him in response, his answering laugh dark against your ear. “But it’s never enough, is it? You always crave more, something thicker, something stronger.”

You whine against the loss of contact as he drops his knee, the sting of your panties snapping against your skin quickly forgotten when he trails his digits along the swell of your mouth. You open up greedily, the salty taste of his skin on your tongue intoxicating as you wrap your lips around him. 

“I bet you look so pretty,” he continues, his voice ragged, “Spread out like a top dollar whore with your cunt in the air, gagging on your fingers and wishing it were me. Wondering how many you need to suck on to fill you up just right. How many do you think, baby? Two? More?”

Scott pulls his fingers out with a pop, nuzzling against you as you try to remember to breathe. “Would you even be able to use that brain of yours, baby? Or would you be so fucking desperate to fill your hole that you’d use however many fit?”

He hikes up your dress while he pushes his hand in your panties, fingers slipping through your soaked folds. Fuck. He slowly circles your clit, stealing the breath from your lungs as you arch up into him. “Oh, I know, sweetheart. It doesn’t feel like this, does it?”

Not even close. Worst of all, you weren’t even sure if Scott knew just how true it was. Other men may have excited you, but nothing compared to this — not you, not the others you took to your bed, not even the fantasy Scott you envisioned. You buck helplessly against him, eager for more, whimpering out some sort of half-reply as you grip his wrist in a pathetic effort to keep him there.

Scott just grins. “What’s wrong, baby? Am I going too slow for you?” When he softens his touch, your nails dig into his skin, leaving little crescent moon marks. Lips desperately search for his, your eyes half-lidded and hazy. “I knew you’d be greedy,” he hums, gripping you roughly by the chin, his thumb swiping over your parted lips. “Letting me play with your pussy like this, where anyone could walk out and see how much of a slut you’re being.”

You bite back a moan as you remember where you are, glancing frantically at the door like it might open any second. Your pulse skyrockets when he resumes teasing, circling your clit then dipping down to press at your entrance. Fingers close around the fabric of his shirt, meaning to push him away and only pulling him closer with another desperate whine. “Scott, please…”

“Fuck.” There’s a dark look that flashes across his face, voice rough and ragged, and you watch, with nothing to shield his gaze, as his control snaps.

Sliding his hand over your mouth, it’s the only warning you get before he sinks a thick digit into your weeping cunt. The growl that escapes him when you automatically clench around it only makes you wetter, paralyzed with lust as he works you into pliancy. You pant, chest heaving, as he finds a steady rhythm that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head, every moan muffled against the palm of his hand as you arch into his touch.

You cry out when he adds a second finger, rocking your hips desperately as he angles his hand just right to rub against your clit. “Harder— Please, more—” The words are strangled, spilling out of you mindlessly now, unable to think beyond the way Scott stretches you out. You grab a fistful of his hair as he groans against your neck, dragging teeth and tongue along your skin, freeing your breasts from your dress before covering your mouth again.

“So god damned sexy,” he growls, quick to lap at your hardened nipples, the flat of his tongue spilling another pretty sound from your throat. He curls his digits deeper inside you, the wet schlick of your heat loud in your ears as he sets a brutal pace, switching his attention to your other neglected nipple.

Breath hot against your skin, Scott relishes how you become putty in his hands, holding onto him for support as he strokes that burning fire in you.

“Perfect fucking tits. Perfect fucking pussy. Jesus, sweetheart,” he nips at your skin, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Is this what you like? Being used like my own personal fucktoy? What would the others think if they saw you right now, fucking yourself stupid on me like a bitch in heat?”

He slips his fingers out long enough for you to beg, his smile dark against your skin while you whimper in desperation — and then he’s pushing back into you, stretching your hole with every rough thrust of his fingers. “Hear that, sweetheart? Even your body knows it’s meant to be mine.”

Scott kisses you hungrily as he drops his free hand to your breast, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you scream. His fingers slick harder into you, his cock thick and grinding into your hip while you try to breathe against his storm, your own control slipping as you fist his dark curls in your hands, looking for leverage.

“That’s it,” he growls, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “This is my fucking pussy, isn’t it, baby? You wanna cum for me? Let the whole bar know you’re my toy to play with?”

“Please, please, please—” You can’t think beyond the brutal pace he’s set, not even sure that your voice sounds human as you babble, eyes big and watering. “Wanna cum for you, please, I need it—”

“You need it?” You gasp as the pain on your nipple subsides only for him to pinch the other, something dark and destructive swirling heavy in his blue eyes. You shiver at the expression, the carnal desire written so clearly over his face, every word out of his mouth deep, commanding, leaving no room for debate. “I’ll tell you when you get to cum. This is mine.” Pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit, he watches with glee as you clamp down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming, obeying his command even as your body fights.

Your knees nearly buckle at the growl in his voice. Every thrust of his fingers brings you closer to the edge, the heat overwhelming. How many nights had you spent with your fingers in your cunt, picturing scenario after scenario of him taking you in the van, in the bathroom, on his desk after hours? 

“Say it,” Scott insists. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You meet his gaze, the intensity of it nearly sending you over the edge. “I’m yours,” you say, caught between a moan and something stronger, your words choking off.

“Again.” His expression tightens, picking up speed. “Louder.”

“I’m yours!” Your body trembles with the effort to stay upright, writhing against him. The words feel like a vow, your grip on Scott tight as you sob them into him. “My pussy is yours, my body is yours— Just a pathetic, dirty, worthless hole for you to fuck— Fuck, Scott, please—”

Scott growls in response, fisting his hand in your hair as finds the spongey spot inside of you. His digits work you hard, the veins in his arms on display as you bite back a scream, waiting, begging, needing. “Cum,” he grunts, the sound of his fingers driving into you loud and damning, “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me.”

You fall over the edge hard and fast, crying out as all the tension from the night finally snaps. It feels like an eternity as he continues fucking you through it, every filthy promise spelled out clearly with his lips at your ear.

By the time you come crashing back down, you’re shaking and empty, blinking back stars as Scott steps back. “Oh my god,” you gasp, fighting to catch your breath, mind still a mess as you try to piece together everything that happened. “That was…”

You watch, mesmerized, as Scott sucks his fingers into his mouth, a groan of approval sounding deep in his throat. And when he squeezes at his bulge straining against his zipper, your core clenches tight at the thought of his weight on top of yours, fucking you into submission again and again until he gets his fill.

“Just the beginning,” Scott promises, stepping toward you to tilt your chin up, his free hand coming down to tighten around your soaked panties and pull. They rip easily in his strong grasp, his grin triumphant as he stuffs them into his back pocket. “You won’t be needing these anymore.”

“Why?” Your body tenses with anticipation, noting the defined dimple in his cheek, the kind of grin he only wore when he was about to be incredibly, infuriatingly smug.

“Because,” he hums, full of condescension, “I didn’t hear a thank you.”

Before you can fix your mistake, Scott silences you with a kiss, his mouth patronizingly gentle as a wicked laugh sounds in the back of his throat. “Don’t worry,” he says, dropping another chaste kiss to your mouth, your nose, the space between your creased brows. “It won’t happen again. I’ll teach you, sweetheart.”

Goosebumps rise on your flesh as Scott adjusts your dress to cover your exposed body, the act so gentle and unbecoming that you freeze enough to let him. The moment only lasts a minute, your eyes meeting as he squeezes the curve of your ass when he’s done, all that vulnerability you had seen locked away again, like he’s guarding himself as reality comes back to life.

A muscle feathers in his jaw as his gaze shifts from you to the back door you’d spilled from. You’ve known Scott long enough by now to know he won’t be the one to say what’s hanging in the air. It would be easier, safer, to walk back in like nothing had happened and return to the motel alone, hitching a ride with anyone other than Scott the next morning.

But if you turn away now, you’ll never see that side of him again: the side that stayed up with you when he could be sleeping, the kind that comforted you without words, the kind that lit your world on fire with every bruising mark he’d left on you. The chance of knowing the man behind the mask.

You don’t miss the way his muscles tense under your touch as you reach for him or the flash of relief that flickers through him. “You think I’m teachable?” You ask, turning big eyes up at him, begging him to see the way you lay yourself bare for him — hoping, praying, that he doesn’t turn you down even still.

“I’m not an easy teacher.” He says, low, still guarded. Still giving you one last out.

You shake your head, a laugh tumbling out. His throat bobs at the sound. “I don’t want easy.” The truth of that hangs heavy in the air, zipping between the two of you as recognition passes through his eyes. “Now are you driving, or am I?”

A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth before he presses his tongue into his cheek and takes a step back. “My van, my rules,” he says, his voice softer now but still firm, and you hear the familiar rumble of the Storm Par van coming to life. His keys jingle in his hand as he adds, “You should know that by now.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a smile, and follow him out of the alleyway.

You did know. And as you settle into the passenger seat, the scent of the van enveloping you — a mix of old leather and Scott’s cologne — anticipation crackles in the air. The night stretches ahead, full of unspoken possibilities.

You couldn’t wait to test how far those rules went... and just how much you both were willing to bend them.

[hanahaki270]

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ “You Belong to Me” ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

・❥・ Synopsis ・❥・ Having an Uchiha as an ex doesn’t mean anything. Once you’ve managed to make them fall for you, you’re basically stuck with them for eternity.

・❥・ Pairing ・❥・ Sasuke x Fem!reader

・❥・ A/N ・❥・ I finally decided to continue watching shippuden after having it on pause for 5 years.. yeahhh so I’m having a huge obsession with it rn. Also please feel free to send prompt requests for me to write! And I feel like I definitely could have written this out better but I was in a rush and stressed out about Job interviews so mb

♥︎

You finally gathered the courage within you to end your relationship with Sasuke. This wasn’t an easy decision. In fact it was tearing you apart. You still loved him. But the differences between your priorities and his were far too different to the point where they were conflicting with each other.

You might as well have been talking to a wall that day with how blank his expression was after you just announced how you were breaking up with him. The loud silence was killing you inside, does he not care at all?

♥︎

-You wanting to break up with him was like a jab at his ego. The Sasuke Uchiha. The last prodigy of his clan and you wanted to leave him? Though this enraged him, he refused to let you know it. He couldn’t let you have the satisfaction of knowing that this actually affected him.

-After you left the apartment he started to completely trash the place. Everything in it was obliterated into nothingness. But as soon as he went out in public he acted completely fine as if nothing happened.

-Anytime you were around he would make sure you saw him with other girls. He wanted to show you that he could be with anybody he desired without a problem, at any given second. Show you that you weren’t nothing special to him.

-He was lying. Because as soon as you left his vision he treated the girls like shit and pushed them aside after they served their purpose in making you jealous.

-He tried to sleep with random women in the village to further prove that he didn’t need you. (He was really just trying to convince himself) but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. None of them even compared to your beauty. Even the thought of another person lying on the bed you two once shared disgusted him.

-After weeks of this even Sasuke couldn’t believe his own facade. He craved you. He craved your smile, your laughter, Your touch. And is willing to do whatever it takes to remind you that you belong with him.

-He sucked up his pride and begged Naruto to send you two on missions together. So you’d be basically forced to talk to each other . (Naruto uses this against him every now and then)

-During one of the missions, one of your comrades decide to get a little touchy with you. You pay this no mind since you have no interest in the guy, but Sasuke definitely notices it. What’s a worthless ninja doing talking to what’s his?

-A couple of days after that mission, the scenario of another man getting that close to you haunted Sasuke day and night. There’s no way in hell you’d ever willingly decide to be with any other man but him. Right? He needed the reassurance and he needed it now.

-It was 4 am when you opened the door to your apartment after you were awoken by loud desperate banging on the door just to be faced with your ex. He invited himself in, closing the door behind him as he slowly crept towards you.

“Sasuke?”

-He reached for your hand and held it in his, as he focused on you as if there was nothing else in this world. You could tell he developed dark circles since the last time you saw him.

“The day we got together was the day I chose you to be the one I repopulate my clan with. The only one worthy of the surname Uchiha. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

-He noticed how you were at a loss of words so he took this moment to do what he’s been yearning to. He grabbed the back of your head pulling you into a kiss. The kiss was messy and desperate. He kissed you as if you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. And to him, you were.

-Needless to say you were vulnerable to his request and took him back. How could you not?

♥︎