#i really don’t fw him … | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aliyahwritings · 5 months ago

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ARE YOU JEALOUS?

Summary: Sassy!Kook!Reader gets jealous when she sees Rafe Cameron close with another girl...

Content: neck sucking (?), childhood friends to lovers, kind of mean!rafe in one scene, bullying lol, suggestive towards the end but just a tiny bit.

Words Count: 5.5k ... i don't know what the fuck happened...

Aliyah's talking: IDK if i fw this or not but i hope yall will lolz <3 Thank you so much for the love on Protective Instincts btw!!!! I am so grateful and surprised that many of you all enjoyed it. Hope u'll enjoy this one too 🩷

Sunlight streamed into Sarah’s room, casting a soft, golden glow over the space as you lounged on her bed, idly flipping through a magazine. You both were sprawled across the plush, yellow covers, surrounded by half-empty bags of chips and scattered makeup palettes—evidence of an afternoon well spent. Sarah was perched by the vanity, trying on different lip glosses, all of which looked beautiful on her, but she insisted on which one was the best.

“So, tell me again,” she started, holding up a tube of shimmery pink gloss and squinting at it thoughtfully. “Why don’t you go for Jake? I mean, he’s cute, he’s smart—”

“And boring. He is boring,” you interjected, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “Come on, Sarah, you know how I am. I need someone with a little more… edge…? Someone that could handle me but also play the game, you know?”

Sarah smirked, setting the lip gloss down and turning to face you. “Edge… Handling your attitude… I’m afraid that weirdly sounds like someone we both know.”

“You think you’re so funny, huh?” you said, shooting her a mock glare.

She laughed, completely unbothered. "What? I’m just stating the facts!" She shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "As much as I hate to admit it, my brother definitely fits both criteria, so…”

You were listening to her but stopped when your phone buzzed. Out of habit, you unlocked it and opened the notification from Instagram; Topper posted a new story and you watched it. The screen was filled with a shaky video of the beach, the late afternoon sun casting golden light over everything. You recognized some people, but your attention zeroed in on Rafe, right in the center of it all. He was grinning, his arm slung around a girl who was laughing and pulling him closer, like they were the only two people on the beach.

You felt a quick, unwelcome pang in your chest.

“Hey, what’s got you so interested?” Sarah’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you glanced back at her, masking any hint of emotion with a casual smirk.

You locked the screen and tossed the phone aside. “Nothing. Just Topper’s beach parties and Instagram stories.”

She gave you a skeptical look, folding her arms. “Don’t lie to me. I know you better than yourself, what did you see in that story, Y/N?”

You hesitated, but then shrugged, trying to play it off. “Rafe was at the party with some girl. A new girl. It’s not a big deal.”

“Ah, I see,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “You know he’s always messing around with someone new. But… I thought you didn’t care about what he was up to.”

“I don’t,” you said, a bit too quickly, crossing your arms. “He can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“Right. So, you don’t care at all?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Look, I just don’t get what’s so special about him that girls keep falling over themselves to be around him. That’s all.”

She nodded with a giggle. “Yeah, no, I definitely—”

“And doesn’t it bother anyone that he’s got a new girl every week? I mean, if I were one of those girls who actually liked him, I’d be furious. Wouldn’t you, Sar?” You barely paused before continuing, not even waiting for her answer. “It’s honestly just sad because Rafe really isn’t even all that. Sure, he can be fun and nice sometimes, but he’s also a huge asshole with a big fucking ego. Is it just me, or is everyone blind to that?”

Sarah was quiet for a moment, studying you with a thoughtful expression before she finally spoke up. “You know what? I think we could both use a break from overthinking anything about the opposite sex. How about we get out of here and grab some smoothies? I heard there’s a new spot by the marina.”

You nodded, grateful that she didn’t talk about your little moment. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Sarah grabbed her bag, giving you one last teasing smile. “Smoothies and maybe some retail therapy afterward?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you replied, letting the idea of a carefree afternoon replace the lingering thoughts of Rafe. Whatever he was up to, it was his business. You weren’t about to let it ruin your day.

The soft hum of the fridge and the rhythmic clinking of silverware filled the kitchen as you, Sarah, and Rafe gathered around the island, your weekly routine as ingrained as the family photos lining the walls. The night was settling in, casting a cozy stillness over the room. You were only half-listening as Sarah rambled on about her weekend plans, your attention instead focused on pushing pasta around on your plate, not particularly hungry.

Rafe sat across the counter, leaning back in his chair with an ease that always seemed to irritate you. He had been quiet, too but you knew he wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, he broke the silence.

“Alright,” he began, raising an eyebrow at you, “what’s up with you tonight? You’re awfully quiet.”

You didn’t look up, keeping your tone purposefully casual. “Nothing’s up,” you replied, hoping he’d let it go. But you knew better.

“Come on,” he pressed, tilting his head in that infuriatingly smug way. “Where’s that feisty attitude you always have? Usually, by now, you’d have already made at least five smartass comments about my shirt or something.”

You let out a short, unimpressed laugh, finally meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe I just ran out of things to say about you, Rafael. Ever think of that?”

He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Nah. You’ve got an endless supply of attitude, Y/N. I’d be shocked if you were ever actually out of material.” He took a sip from his glass, watching you over the rim with that familiar, infuriating smirk.

Sarah shot you a look, her mouth twisted in a tired smile as she mouthed, here we go. She had seen this routine a thousand times before.

“You really think I spend that much time thinking about you?” you fired back, folding your arms over your chest and fixing him with an unimpressed stare.

“Oh, I don’t think,” he replied smoothly, leaning in a little closer, “I know. Admit it. I’m in your head, aren’t I?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back in your chair as you tossed him an indifferent look. “Right. You’re the center of my world, Rafe. Can’t you tell?”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “You know, when you’re this quiet, it’s like a fucking flashing neon sign saying, ‘Something’s up’. Might as well tell me now.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew that engaging with him like this was a slippery slope—once you started, he never let up. But for some reason, tonight, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Honestly, I don’t have the energy for your little mind games tonight,” you said, trying to sound as bored as possible. “So, if you’re expecting me to entertain you, you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t believe that for a second,” he shot back, leaning back casually in his chair as if he had all the time in the world to wear you down. “You love this. Sparring with me? It’s basically your favorite hobby.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Didn’t realize my silence was such a tragedy for you.”

“Oh, it is. I mean, where else am I supposed to get my daily dose of attitude?” He leaned back, feigning a pout. “Come on, you’re no fun like this. Did something happen?”

You rolled your eyes, twirling your fork in the pasta as if it held your entire focus. “Why would you care? I’m sure you have more important things to worry about. Maybe more girl—”

Sarah let out a sigh, interrupting before Rafe could respond. “Honestly, do you two ever get tired of this? We’re supposed to be having dinner, and it feels like I’m watching some sort of weird rom-com.”

You shot Sarah an exasperated look. “There’s nothing romantic about this, Sar. It’s called surviving.”

“Right,” Sarah said, clearly unconvinced. “But could you maybe survive without the constant bickering? Just once?”

Rafe smirked, clearly unfazed by Sarah’s comment as he turned back to you. “I don’t know. I think she secretly enjoys it. You should see how she lights up when she gets going.”

“Fuck off,” you muttered, taking a long sip from your glass and hoping it would mask the heat you could feel rising in your cheeks.

He watched you with an amused glint in his eye, clearly picking up on your discomfort. “A little defensive, aren’t we? I mean, I’m just stating the obvious here. You’ve been on edge all night. Care to share with the class what’s really bothering you?”

You set your glass down with a little more force than necessary, fixing him with a glare. “You really think everything’s about you, don’t you?”

“Not everything,” he replied, shrugging casually. “Just the things that involve you. Because, for some reason, every time you’re in a mood, it usually has something to do with me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then closed it again, unsure of how to respond without giving anything away. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hit a nerve, even if he had.

“What’s the matter, princess?” he continued, pushing his plate aside as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did something happen between you and Jake, huh? I thought you two were casually talk—”

You groaned, frustrated that he’d brought Jake into it. “There’s nothing to say about Jake. I’m just tired, okay? Not everything has to be about some guy.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Rafe replied, his tone laced with a hint of smugness. “But I’d say you’re a little more…on edge than usual. So, it has to be about that guy, right…”

“Jake’s got nothing to do with this,” you said, your tone steady. “Unlike you, he actually knows how to mind his own business.”

Well, you’re just lying because you’ve never taken the time to actually learn about Jake and what type of person he was. As bitchy as it sounded, you were using him as a distraction.

You stared at him, hoping your silence would be enough to make him drop it. But, of course, he didn’t.

Rafe crossed his arms as he studied you, his gaze never wavering. “So, you’re saying you prefer a guy who lets you get away with whatever you want, then?”

You scoffed. “No, Rafe. I am saying I prefer a guy who doesn’t feel the need to stick his nose into everything I do. You know, a guy who’s secure enough to let me be without constantly needing to provoke me.”

“Yeah, I see,” he replied, nodding softly. “So, basically, you’re looking for someone boring. Someone who doesn’t challenge you, who just lets you coast by. Am I right?”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “You think you know me so well, don’t you? Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron. I can find someone else to annoy me if I really wanted to.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, but that infuriating smirk stayed in place, like he thrived on every bit of tension between you. He cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward, his voice a low, taunting whisper. “Oh yeah? Who, exactly? Jake? He’s perfect for you—goody-two-shoes, never steps out of the fucking line. Because, let’s be honest, you’d crush him. He’d never call you out, never push you.” He paused, and there was a bitterness beneath his words, hidden but unmistakable. “He’d be safe.”

A bitter smile twisted your lips, the pain creeping into your voice despite your best efforts. “At least Jake knows how to be respectful. He wouldn’t stoop to tearing me down just to get a rise. He wouldn’t need to.”

Rafe scoffed, his amusement tinged with a hint of anger. “Respectful? Fuck that. You want someone to play nice and tell you what you want to hear, go right ahead. But I think we both know that’s not what you really want.” He took a step closer, his gaze fierce, challenging. “You think I’m the bad guy because I’m not afraid to tell you the truth. I don’t play pretend. I’m not here to tell you sweet lies—I’d rather see who you really are, even if that means pissing you off.”

You narrowed your eyes, fury blazing in your chest. He was looking right at you, like he could see through every layer you tried so hard to put up. But there was something deeper in his gaze, a flicker of something that made your heart race even as anger burned within you. And you hated that he could do that—make you feel so exposed, so raw, yet so alive all at once.

But to him, this was just another game. He thrived on your frustration, on the way he could get under your skin with just a few well-placed words. It was a twisted power play, a battle neither of you were willing to lose. And for a moment, the air between you was charged, almost electrifying, the tension so thick it was nearly suffocating.

You wanted to hate him, but a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right—if he really did see through to the parts of you that no one else dared to touch.

But that only made you angrier, and you felt a surge of resentment rise within you, pushing you over the edge. With a sudden flash of fury, you slammed your fists onto the table, the sound echoing through the room, your voice sharp and cutting. “You know what? Fuck you, Rafe Cameron.”

Without another word, you turned and stormed out.

The sound reverberated through the Cameron household, leaving a heavy silence. Rafe stood there, fists clenched, trying to swallow down the mix of anger and something else—something that felt dangerously close to longing.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at her brother. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe shot her a look, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “You don’t get it, Sarah. She’s… She’s infuriating.”

But then he hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the door you had just stormed out of. The edge of his lips twitched in a way that was all too vulnerable, too honest. “But there’s something about her,” he admitted, his voice softening. “She’s fierce and passionate. When she’s angry, it’s like she’s alive in a way I can’t help but be drawn to. It’s frustrating, but… but she’s not afraid to challenge me, to call me out.” He paused, searching for the right words, his heart racing.

“And so that makes it right for you to annoy her to that point?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t help it. I want her to see the real me, too. It’s like I can’t breathe when she’s around and then—when she leaves? It’s like the air just… disappears.” He ran a hand through his hair, a mix of confusion and desire etched across his features. “She challenges me in ways I never expected, and it drives me insane, but I can’t help but want more of her.”

“Wow,” Sarah said softly, her voice full of surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see the day Rafe Cameron talked about someone like this—but mess around with her like that one more time, and I’ll hurt you.”

The sun spilled into your bedroom, casting a warm glow that felt inviting. But you stirred, still brimming with the tumult of emotions from last night. Rafe’s words echoed in your mind—his teasing, the way he pushed your buttons, and the way your heart raced despite your annoyance. You groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over your head, hoping to drown out the memories.

But then laughter broke through the haze of your thoughts. It was bright and carefree, drifting in through the open window. Intrigued, you tossed off the blanket and slid out of bed, your curiosity piqued. A quick glance outside revealed the source of the joyful sounds: Sarah, Wheezie, and Rafe were out by the pool, splashing water and playfully throwing each other around.

Rafe, wearing nothing but swim trunks that hung low on his hips, was the centerpiece of the scene, effortlessly drawing your gaze. His tanned skin glimmered, accentuating the muscles that rippled as he dove and surfaced in the water, laughter spilling from his lips, infectious and buoyant.

You caught yourself ogling him, eyes roaming over the way the water dripped from his hair, the way his body moved with ease and confidence. It wasn’t fair, really—how could someone be so effortlessly captivating? The sun caught the edges of his grin as he tossed Wheezie playfully into the pool, the sound of her laughter ringing out like music.

You were lost in the moment, so caught up in the heat of his gaze that you didn’t even notice the way your thighs clenched together, craving the contact that felt just out of reach. All you could think about was the overwhelming desire to touch him—everywhere. You imagined your hands gliding over his toned chest, feeling the hard flex of his biceps beneath your fingertips, tracing the lines of his powerful arms as they wrapped around your body, waist, and ass pulling you closer.

You wanted him. God, did you want him.

Why did he have this effect on you? Why was he constantly invading your thoughts, even now?

A sudden buzz from your phone pulled you from your reverie. You grabbed it from the bedside table and saw a message from Sarah: “Get your ass out here! We’re in the pool, it’s fun! You’ll want to join us!”

A smile tugged at your lips at Sarah's enthusiasm, but a moment of hesitation passed as you remembered the tension of last night. Still, you didn’t want to be the odd one out. With a determined sigh, you pulled yourself away from the window and began to get ready.

You rummaged through your drawers, searching for that one bikini that made you look stunning and earned you a handful of compliments every time you wore it. Finally, you found it: a deep emerald green that contrasted perfectly against your skin tone. It was cut high, accentuating your legs, the top was daring, showing just enough to leave to the imagination. You paired it with a pair of denim shorts.

You headed towards the back door, nerves swirling in your stomach. As you stepped outside, the head of the sun hit you like a wave, and the sounds of laughter grew louder.

“You’re awake!” Sarah exclaimed, her voice bright and cheerful. “I thought we’d have to drag you out here!”

You laughed lightly, feeling a playful energy surge within you. “I’m here, aren’t I?” You shot back, trying to keep your tone light as you made your way toward the pool.

Wheezie exclaimed, eyes wide of admiration. ��Wow, Y/N! Look at you!”

“Thanks!” you replied, trying to play it cool but secretly loving the attention. You glanced at Rafe, who had turned to face you, and your heart raced at the sight of him leaning against the pool’s edge, water cascading down his toned body.

His gaze lingered on you, a mix of surprise and appreciation playing across his features. “Well, well, if it isn’t the queen herself,” he teased, that infuriating smirk stretching across his face. “Nice of you to join us.”

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, feigning indifference as you busied yourself with anything but him. The events of last night were still fresh in your mind, a heated clash that left you reeling and more than a little irritated. You were determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Oh, so I get the silent treatment?” he drawled, his voice dripping with playful disbelief. “I’m devastated,” he added, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly irresistible smirk that always made your heart flutter.

Instead, you focused on Sarah and Wheezie, who were gleefully splashing water at each other. You couldn’t help but feel the pull of their energy.

Hours rolled by and you settled onto a lounge chair, you could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, the heat of his gaze igniting your skin in a way that both thrilled and annoyed you. He was still in the pool, looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive. You didn’t know but you were driving him crazy with that attitude of yours, this whole ignoring thing and your fucking bikini.

Sarah and Wheezie went inside the house to prepare some snacks and drinks for us because we were getting hungry and thirsty, leaving only Rafe and you.

You pulled your phone, pretending to scroll through social media, anything to distract yourself from the way your heart raced at his presence. A notification lit up your phone, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Jake’s name flash across the screen. The excitement surged through you as you opened the message:

"Hey, gorgeous. I really like you, and I’d love to take you out sometime. You in?"

He was cute—way too cute.

A grin crept onto your lips, and for once, you allowed yourself to enjoy the attention from someone who wasn’t toying with your emotions. Someone who actually seemed genuine. No games, no mixed signals. Just interest. The kind that felt refreshing after dealing with someone who never seemed to know what he wanted.

You barely had time to revel in it before Rafe’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and demanding. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

Your grip tightened on your phone instinctively, and you flicked your gaze up to him, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, nothing. Just a friend,” you said, slipping your phone screen down against your thigh.

Rafe wasn’t buying it. His eyes narrowed, skepticism written all over his face. “Just a friend, huh?” His voice had that dangerous edge to it, the one you knew too well. “Funny, you don’t usually smile like that over friends.”

You felt his eyes burning into you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. “Really? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” you teased, biting back the smirk threatening to break free.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Who was it?”

“Like I said, just a friend,” you repeated, your voice smooth, but now you were teasing on purpose. You could feel his irritation rising, and part of you enjoyed it. “What, are you jealous or something?”

He scoffed, though you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened. “Why the hell would I be jealous?” he snapped, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. “I’m just asking a question.”

“Uh-huh.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning back and tilting your head, watching him closely. “Right. Just a casual question, huh? Totally doesn’t sound like someone’s jealous.”

His hands were now resting on the edge of the pool, gripping it just a little too tightly. “I’m not jealous,” he repeated, but the way his gaze darted to your phone said otherwise. “But if it’s someone trying to get at you, then yeah, I wanna know. Who is it?”

“Someone,” you said vaguely, enjoying the fact that Rafe was teetering on the edge of losing it. “Someone who’s interested, clearly.”

Rafe’s eyes flared, and the jealousy in his voice became impossible to miss. “Interested in what? You?” His lips curled into a scowl, his muscles tense. “What, you think some random guy’s gonna—”

“Maybe,” you cut in, your smile growing. “Maybe he’s actually straightforward, you know? No mind games, no drama. Just a guy who knows what he wants.”

His brows shot up, the implication stinging. “And you think I don’t know what I want?”

You shrugged, not backing down an inch. “Well, you never seem to make it that clear. Maybe someone else is going to take your place as my—”

The possessiveness in his eyes flared. He pushed himself up out of the pool, water dripping from his shoulders as he moved closer, his presence looming over you. “No one’s stepping up, got it? No one’s taking my place.”

You met his gaze, unflinching, even as your heart raced a little faster. “Oh? And what exactly is your place, Rafe?”

He leaned in, the heat between you practically crackling. “You know damn well where my place is,” he murmured, his voice low, daring, yet with a hint of uncertainty creeping in. “And I’m not about to let some bitch ass slide in because you think I don’t care.”

You smiled, tilting your head, savoring the tension. “Seems like you do care. Maybe more than you want to admit.”

“Because I do care, Y/N,” he murmured softly, swiping his wet thumb across your cheek. “I told you already that I cared way too damn much.”

Rafe’s thumb lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through your body despite the heat of the day. His eyes held yours, dark and intense, as if he were trying to convey all the words he couldn’t quite say aloud. The air between you was thick, charged with a tension that had been building for far too long.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was a losing battle. “Your way of showing it is fucked, Rafe.”

Your words were meant to cut, but they came out softer than you intended, almost like a challenge. His jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back with some cocky retort, he stepped even closer. The scent of chlorine and his skin invaded your senses, and you couldn’t help but notice how his muscles tensed as he towered over you, dripping with water, his presence commanding.

“I care,” he repeated, his voice lower now, almost a growl. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back to your eyes, like he was making a decision in real time. “I care more than you know.”

Before you could muster a reply, his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, your breath hitching as his lips hovered near your ear. “I think you know exactly what my place is,” he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken desire. “And you’re not running from it.”

His breath was hot against your skin, sending a wave of heat cascading down your spine. He didn’t move right away, as if savoring the tension that crackled between you, the nearness, the inevitability of it all. Your heart pounded in your chest, your pulse quickening as his lips brushed, ever so lightly, against the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping the fabric of your shorts as your body reacted to him, heat pooling low in your belly. “Rafe…” you whispered, not quite a protest, but not quite giving in either.

But he wasn’t about to back down now. He shifted closer, his mouth grazing the curve of your neck, soft at first, then firmer, the scrape of his teeth making your pulse race. Your skin ignited under his touch, and a low moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his lips trailing lower, his voice husky and thick with need. “That’s not some game. That’s real.”

Your body arched toward him of its own accord, your resistance melting as his hands slid down to your waist, fingers pressing firmly into your skin, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck, his lips teasing, torturing, as they brushed along your collarbone. Every touch, every whisper was setting your nerves alight, and you were dizzy with the intensity of it.

“You’re such an ass,” you muttered, trying to keep a shred of control, but your voice lacked conviction.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Maybe,” he agreed, his lips brushing the spot just beneath your ear again, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. “But you can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”

You hated how right he was. You hated how easily he could unravel you, how even now, you were leaning into his touch, craving more of it. But there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of hearing it.

“Stop being so cocky,” you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered with the desire that coursed through you.

But Rafe wasn’t in the mood to stop. His hand slid to your lower back, pulling your body flush against his, the coolness of his skin mingling with your own heat. You could feel the hard lines of his body pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling as his lips grazed your shoulder, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin, just enough to make you shudder.

“Admit it,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a deep, rough command. “You want this.”

You closed your eyes, fighting to hold onto your last thread of self-control, but the tension between you was overwhelming, suffocating. His lips moved lower, placing slow, deliberate kisses along your collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Your breath came in ragged gasps as your body betrayed you, leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze, the way he made you feel like the only person in the world.

“Rafe…” you breathed, your voice barely audible, as his hand slid down to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. You could feel his breath on your neck, his lips hovering just above the place where your pulse raced beneath the surface.

“I want you, Y/N,” he whispered against your skin, his voice raw, filled with the desire that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever. “And I’m not letting anyone else have you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think better of it, your hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, your body aching for the contact you’d been denying yourself for so long.

Your lips collided with his in a heated rush, all the pent-up tension and desire finally unraveling between you. Rafe’s hands immediately gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. His lips were demanding, rough and hungry, but there was a softness to the way he held you, like he wanted to savor every second. You melted into him, fingers tangling in his wet hair, feeling the slickness of the pool water on his skin as his body pressed against yours.

The taste of him, mixed with the faint tang of chlorine, was intoxicating. It was all-consuming, drowning out every rational thought. He kissed you like he was staking his claim, like he wanted to erase any trace of doubt from your mind, and for a moment, you let him. Your body responded instinctively, arching against his as his hands roamed down your back, gripping you tighter.

When you finally broke apart, both of you gasping for air, Rafe’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper—something more vulnerable. His chest heaved as he looked at you, his breath coming in ragged bursts. “I like you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I like you so much it drives me crazy. No more pretending.”

You stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of the cocky facade he usually wore, but it was gone. This was Rafe stripped bare, no teasing, no arrogance—just raw honesty. It made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the kiss.

Your breath caught in your throat as you considered what he was saying. Could you trust him? Could you really let your guard down and give in to this, knowing how easily he could hurt you?

But before you could overthink it, he kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache, and all your doubts melted away. At that moment, it didn’t matter what had happened before, or what might happen after. All that mattered was how he made you feel right now—wanted, desired, seen.

Rafe pulled back, his thumb brushing gently against your bottom lip, his eyes flicking between yours. “Tell me you feel it too,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Tell me I’m not the only one. Tell me, princess.”

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. There was no point in pretending anymore. “You’re not,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “You drive me crazy, Rafe, too—I don’t want to feel this way, but I do.”

His lips curved into a small, triumphant smile, but there was relief in his eyes too, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for you to say it. “Good,” he murmured, his hand cupping your face as his thumb stroked your cheek. “Because I don’t think I can let you go.”

3K notes · View notes

awrkive · 28 days ago

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summary: where you and jungkook are in a situationship and you kind of hate each other but the sex is great

wc: 2.8k

warnings/misc: idol!jk x producer!(fem)reader, they are mean to each other 😬, just.. weird dynamics tbh. explicit sexual content: unprotected s*x, multiple positions, cre*mpie, brief c*nnilingus

note: this is entitled "something" in my docs. i genuinely dk what this is but i read this and i was like. oh! okay! i think i had a vision so i want to share!! ik im not the #1 fan of mean jk or idol aus for that matter but the oc is equally just as mean so i kind of fw this tbh aishdixh. not proofread. sorry!

The surface of the leather couch is cold against your back when Jungkook pushes you to it – quite roughly, as if he has something to prove.

And it definitely feels like it when he shoves your panties to the side once he’s situated on top of you – two of his fingers inserting themselves in your pussy without any warning.

“Fuck, what’s gotten you so wet?” Jungkook hisses on the side of your head, pushing his slender fingers in your heat until he’s knuckles deep, buried to the hilt.

“I– oh fuuck,” your words get cut off with a moan when Jungkook starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, fast and erratic.

“Yeah?” Jungkook says, a little mocking, squeezing your waist with his free hand, noting the way your heavy breathing fills the space of your studio. It’s dimly lit, just like you like it, and Jungkook knows there could be someone anytime that could walk by – the staff, his juniors, seniors, whoever – but it’s not your first time fooling around in your studio and it sure as hell isn’t going to be the last.

“J-jeon—”

“I’m just Jeon now?” Jungkook picks up his pace in your pussy, sliding his fingers in and out until you’re a panting mess under him, moans influencing his blood to travel to his dick that’s considerably getting bigger every second that passes by. “Come on, not even Jungkook? Kook? And there you were a while ago back at practice studio calling Mingyu oppa when he’s fucking barely older than you.”

“Oh my god, shit— J-jung– it’s–”

Jungkook doesn’t know exactly what comes over him, but he begins fingering you so fast he felt your wrist wrap around his own, and he could see a hint of tear drop from the side of your eye before Jungkook notices the way your thighs shake, a telltale sign of your orgasm.

And he’s usually a giver. Always is, to be frank. Especially when it comes to you. Because as much as you infuriate him, you also look really fucking pretty when you cum – but this time, Jungkook feels a little petty.

So when you say you’re about to cum just like Jungkook predicted, he abruptly slides his fingers out of your pussy, leaving you empty.

“What the fuck—” he doesn’t let you finish, just uses his strength to flip you over the couch with his hands on your waist, and in swift motion gets you in all fours.

“You don’t deserve to come before I put my dick in you.”

Jungkook kneels behind you, takes his engorged cock out of his sweats, and enters your sweet, wet hole suddenly in an almost abrupt motion, hearing the way your breath hitch when the first inch comes into contact.

“Oh god…” you moan at the delicious stretch, burying your face deeper in the couch as Jungkook begins entering you slowly.

It certainly isn’t the first time you’ve fucked without much prep. Jungkook always insists on an orgasm first before he pushes his cock deep into you while you say otherwise – but perhaps he’s most especially pissed at you tonight that he’s even breaking his own rules.

You don’t really care, though. The burn feels delicious. It’s slow and it’s steady and you can just feel Jungkook holding out from slamming into you right away, his dick getting even bigger in you, every ridge crossing your inner walls.

His deep grunts and heavy breathing paired with your whimpers and moans bounce off the walls, and you’re beginning to think it’s one of the benefits of getting a studio soundproofed so you can fuck someone in peace in it.

“S-so fucking tight—” Jungkook groans, sliding out slowly. The loss doesn’t last long when he enters you again, grabbing your hips tighter as he goes. “Is me fucking you almost everyday not enough, huh?”

“You don’t fuck me everyday– ah,”

A hard thrust, one that feels a little punishing. It makes your legs shake, almost making you give out on your position.

“Whose fault is that?” Jungkook hisses. Then, he speeds up again, and soon the sounds of skin slapping against skin filtrates the room. Jungkook jackhammers into you, and this time you’re more than sure he’s trying to prove something.

“I’m not the– the– busier one–oh— between us.” You reaching out for something behind you – nothing in particular, but Jungkook takes your hand anyway, placing it on the small of your back and keeping it there is he slams into you again, repeating the motion over and over again until you’re near tears.

It’s so good, and you’re so wet and you want to cum so bad.

You’re just about to whine for it when Jungkook suddenly changes your position again, splaying his hand around your stomach until all you know is that he’s manhandling you over the couch and he’s seated on the leather while you end up on his lap.

Jungkook slides your top upwards until they’re halfway on your chest, expertly creeping up your back to unhook your bra, the flimsy garment falling down your lap. He doesn’t waste more time and maneuvers you a little to suck on your nipples, hands coming to your waist to start bounching you on his cock.

You whimper at the simulation, hands grabbing his hair at the shock. There’s a mirror across from you that lets you see everything that’s happening, and you can’t help but let out a loud moan when you see the way his engorged head disappears in your pussy every time he pushes you down his lap, with his messy hair buried deep on your chest.

You look a mess, with your skirt on the floor and portions of your ponytail breaking away from your elastic tie. But you help Jungkook anyway, holding onto his arm as you bounce up and down on him, pushing your shirt way up your chest until your breasts are free from the constraint of the fabric.

“You’re always so pliant when you’re on my cock like this,” Jungkook says as he bites your nipple. And it felt petty, together with his words.

“Shut up. M-make me cum.” You hiss, grabbing his hair a little tight to make him look up at you.

He does, but there's a smug smirk on his face. “You think you deserve it?”

You arch a brow, despite feeling the tight coil in your stomach. “When do I not?”

“Wrong answer.” Jungkook tsks, shaking his head. Your eyebrows meet, but you find it incredibly hot when he does that thing with his tongue in his cheek. “Wrong answers mean I get to come before you. So sit back and be a good girl for me, hm?”

“Fuck off—” You’re interrupted by Jungkook giving a forceful thrust from down under, so powerful that it almsot knocks you off his lap.

“Look at you, such a fucking slut. A gorgeous slut,” Jungkook says, cupping the side of your head and directing you to look in the mirror you were looking at just a second ago. Your breathing is heavy, and your boobs bounce the same time you go up and down on Jungkook’s cock at a quick, abnormal pace you’re literally running out of breath. “Pussy so fucking tight and tiny but you can always take my dick, huh? No matter how big it gets for you? Right, princess?”

You whimper. “Don’t call me that.”

Jungkook only smirks. “Oh, but you are a princess. Always whines when you don’t get what you want.”

“I d-don’t– fuuckkk – I don’t whine.” you hiss directly to his face, glaring at him.

He chuckles, dark and deep. His fingers begin to creep over your pussy, and soon he’s rubbing fast circles over it, and you want to bite back with an answer to get the last word – but the words die on your tongue when Jungkook changes the position again, roughly placing you on the couch, turning you to your side.

Jungkook grabs your leg and hook it on his shoulder, finds leverage on one of your ass cheeks and enters you from that position, jackhammering thrusts making you almost scream.

It felt so deep, so close, and the stretch is almost godly. Delicious. The way Jungkook’s dick fills you up so good makes the tears form in your eyes, and you keep your eye on him as he pumps in and out of you, sweat already forming on his brows, abs clenching, veins popping out of his arms.

“S-shit–” Jungkook hisses, breathing heavily, a telltale sign of his impending orgasm. “I’m gonna cum. Shit, can I– can I cum inside?”

You nod your head vehemently, grabbing your own chest at the sight of him to give yourself some form of relief.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans before he slams into you in and out, repeating the motion over and over again until his thighs shake. Pauses. Then, he takes his cock out slowly from you, and you look down to see the way Jungkook’s abdomen clench when he starts pumping his cock to shoot his seed into your hole.

It’s warm on your pussy, a little cold when it begins trickling down.

“J-jungkook, I want to—”

“Shh, princess. You’ll come. Just wait a little.” he squeezes his cock for more, spurts of cum shooting into and onto you, and you feel like you could cry at this point.

“Jungkook—”

“Easy.”

He puts your leg down and you thought he was going to enter you again but he adjusts you on the couch, kneels down on the floor, and pokes his tongue out to taste you.

“Oh god!” you gasp when Jungkook suddenly dives in, hungry and impatient, tongue eager to get everywhere all at once.

It happened so fast you don’t exactly know when you released. But when you do, you’re lax on the couch afterwards with Jungkook sitting beside you, massaging your breasts.

“Kook… that’s enough.” you say, holding his wrist.

Jungkook arches a brow. But he lets go.

The post-coital momentum hits you the same.

It’s always like this when you’re doing fucking. You pick up your clothes, and Jungkook starts dressing himself properly too.

You comb your hair through your fingers, putting it back into a decent ponytail in the mirror. You see the reflection of Jungkook behind you seating himself on the couch.

“You’re working tonight?” He takes out something in his pocket, a familiar small, pink electronic device.

Your expression sours immediately. “Keep that shit away from my studio, Jeon.” Jungkook halts, arching his brow your way. You roll your eyes. “If you’re gonna smoke, do it with a real cigarette. Don’t be a pussy.”

Jungkook snorts a scoff, but he tucks away the vape in his pocket back again, anyway.

“You’re getting real creative with being hateful about my smoking. Careful, princess. I’m starting to think you wanna be my girlfriend.”

You walk towards your swivel chair in front of the keyboard. On the screen is a song you’ve been working on for the past month, unfinished, with way too many versions of the melody. You can’t seem to figure out what fits best.

You look back at Jungkook with a disgusted face. “You keep on mentioning that word. I think you want me to be your girlfriend.”

He laughs, relaxed against the sofa, watching you from across the room.

“I would’ve already asked you way before if I wanted that.”

You pause.

Huh.

What a fucking asshole.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But you’re the one getting all worked up just ‘cause I called your bestfriend oppa when he's barely fucking older than me.” You quote him as a retort, throwing his words back at him, going back to your computer.

“Did it flatter you?”

You tried some notes on the keyboard, and again, it doesn’t feel right. Something's missing. Something's too much.

“No. Why would it? You’re a good fuck, I’ll give you that. But you’re not more than that to me.”

A few keys again. It felt way too… bright. The lyrics don't fit. Yoongi would know what to do with this track. But you can’t come to him again, especially after what happened a week ago. A drunk confession and a sober rejection, with the confession coming from you and the rejecting coming from Yoongi.

Now you have to act as if that didn't faze you. Hell is going to freeze over way before you show everyone you give a fuck about anything.

You don’t even notice that Jungkook hadn’t said anything to the last thing you said because it was just that quick for you to get holed in at work.

Until you hear footsteps coming your way.

“What are you working on?” Jungkook asks, gesturing to the whole equipment before you.

“Songs.” you say, not really interested in getting into more conversation with him tonight.

The sex was good, and you won't tell Jungkook this – it's unspoken anyway – but sex with him has always lessened your stress. Made you feel free, even just for a moment. Jungkook likes sex, and he makes sure to prove it to you everytime you do it.

“Wasn’t really obvious.” Jungkook sarcastically says.

You sigh at that, eyes focused on your screen. Clicking away at the software, trying out some keys again. The sound of the keyboard almost rings to your ears at this point.

“Jungkook, I’m working.”

“I know. What? I can’t watch you? Yoongi always tells me it’s better if I watch how you guys work so I can learn a thing or two.” He shrugs, sitting in the available chair next to you.

The mention of Yoongi makes you jump a little, something you hope Jungkook doesn't notice. When he doesn't say anything, you arch your brow at him.

“Why? Thinking of producing your own shit from now on?”

You didn't really think that through. Just wanted to... say something. Retort. But you see that flicker of something unknown flash his face, and you know to yourself instantly that was a… low blow.

Jungkook had always felt… you don’t know, really. He’s just close off when it comes to his… own works. He almost doesn’t really mention them to you, even though that could be something you can talk about when you’re not trying to get in each other's pants.

“None of your business.” Jungkok says after awhile.

You bite your lip. “Okay.”

The room feels quiet until Jungkook breaks it.

“He’s planning to ask you out, by the way.”

Without looking away from your computer, you ask, “Who?”

“Mingyu.”

“Oh.”

“What are you going to say?”

Your brows furrow. “Not sure. You’re his friend right? Is he a nice guy?”

“You like nice guys now?”

“Who doesn't?” you roll your eyes. “Maybe I’ll say yes.”

Jungkook suddenly stands up, the chair scraping against the floorboards.

“Okay, well. Just tell me when you two start fucking, just so I know my health isn’t at risk here.”

You look up at him incredulously.

“You know you’re such a fucking asshole sometimes, right?” He doesn’t say anything. You scoff. “As if you haven’t fucked anybody else since we started doing this.”

“Who the hell else have I fucked, quickly?” Jungkoon furrows his brows.

Shit. You’re confused now. The software is dancing in your eyes. Maybe it was wrong to get right into it after having sex; your brain's mush. And Jungkook's picking up a fight with you as fucking usual. You genuinely don't want to get into it right now.

“I don’t fucking know, Jeon. A random idol at some music show backstage? Maybe one of your fans? I really don’t care. As long as you tell me. ‘Cause I’m as concerned about my health as you are yours.” You say the words with a particular bite to it, making sure to look at him when you use your words against him.

“I haven’t been in any pussy other than your own uptight one for a long time, so good luck on that beef you have with an imaginary woman.” Jungkook spits out before he takes his keys out. “I’ll have dinner delivered to you ‘cause I know you haven’t eaten shit. Until then, I’m heading off. Just text me if you’re staying over at my place or not. I don't care. You have a keycard.”

One you never used. Jungkook's aware of that.

You avoid looking at him. “I'm not.”

“... Okay.”

He leaves just like that.

You slump in your seat and shut your eyes close.

#jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x you #p; drabbles

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zevrra · 4 months ago

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𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

synop: (this is the final part to this series) ; you somehow manage to take on both viktor and jayce inside the lab.

wc: 2k

includes: smüt(ns//fw), fem!reader, threësome, fïngering, ëdging, v peneträtion, double v peneträtion, semi-public sëx, dirty talk

extra: make sure to read part 1 & 2 as well!! thank you all for the love and support on this <33

“shit.” jayce groans at the sight of you. neither he nor viktor could argue against your wishes when you looked so damn good like that, begging for them both. you watch as both of them blush a soft red before both nodded in agreement. “it’ll take some…time.” jayce adds with a slight gesture to his own twitching cöck; pride and worry in his tone.

but none of that mattered. you said what you said and you’d live up to it. “don’t care. i want you both.”

and he wasn’t kidding when he said it would take some time.

after what feels like an eternity of jayce fingering you, stretching you out, drawing you closer and closer to a second orgasm only to rip his fingers away from you, you’re beginning to fear you might lose your mind. you sit in his lap, as he’s returned to sitting on top of the desk, with your legs spread open wide for all to see. and if you were in any other state of mind, you might have been a little embarrassed about being so exposed. but not now, now you were simply dumbed down with pleasure as jayce’s hand sneaks its way back to your aching pussy.

“no more.” you weep, tensing up as his fingers press back into your core. he easily slides three fingers clean up until the second knuckle inside of you.

“sorry pretty, gotta make sure you can take us both.” jayce mumbles softly into your hair, almost apologetically but he’s not really that sorry. he’s not sorry at all, especially when his fingers slip oh-so-easily inside of you and the noises he forces out of you and your soaking cunt. listening to you moan while your core makes the most embarrassing, wet noises; oh no it turned him and viktor on extremely.

viktor stands between your thighs then, kissing the top of your head as he presses two of his own fingers inside you, sliding right up against jayce’s fingers and stretching you even further. “you were the one who begged for both of us, weren’t you?” vik hums in a teasing tone, a smile on his face. he flexes his fingers inside of you, just about the same time jayce does and it would have pissed you off how in sync they were but the mind numbing pleasure shut you up far too quickly.

“just a little more.” jayce encourages sweetly, placing a kiss against your head.

you whine in response to both of them, panting heavily as their fingers begin to work faster inside of you. they both finger you in turn, matching each other’s pace effortlessly, as they stretch you more and more. jayce’s fingers push deep, viktor’s pulls out, jayce slips his fingers out, viktor pushes his right back in. back and forth they work on your cunt until you’re growing hotter. lava burns in your lower abdomen and in your thighs and it makes you fidget against jayce’s lap. you whine at the tight feeling at your core, begging for any kind of release. and as the tightness grows closer and closer, you get louder and louder with each press of the fingers inside of you. the threat of coming again makes your toes curl, back arching, fingers gripping into the closest arm you can grab onto as your orgasm burns in your lower half.

but just like the several times before, the two men remove their fingers just at the last second. your orgasm threatens to break open the floodgates but is quickly retreating at the loss of stimulation and the edging leaves you gasping while tears cling to your eyelashes. “‘ts enough! i can’t take it anymore!” you plead.

jayce returns to placing soft kisses wherever he can reach while his hands smooth along your arms and the rest of your body. “you did amazing.” he praises, adjusting your body as he speaks, so now you can fully lean your weight back against him. hands sliding under your thighs and keeping your legs open for the next part to come. “viktor, give her what she wants.“

you could almost weep at his words but instead you nod as quickly as you can. “please.”

“mhm darling.” viktor softly hums in response to your begging. one of his hands presses against jayce’s knee as he angles himself right up against your core. his other hand wraps around his overly aching cock, giving it a swift tug with a low groan, before he’s pressing forward. the tip of his pink head slides easily against your wet cunt; and he slides even easier inside of your waiting body.

you tighten at the intrusion but quickly welcome it as viktor bottoms out. his hips press against your own as he slips his cock all the way inside you, reaching deeper than their fingers could have and it makes you cry with relief. “yes! god, yes.” you groan as you take all of viktor with ease.

who in turn mimics your groan at the warmth wrapped around him. he braces himself completely down onto jayce’s thighs now, forcing himself to still for a moment. “shit...” viktor comments with a whine before he slowly pulls out, his pretty eyes never leaving where the two of you connect, staring as he disappears once again inside of you. and he whimpers when he bottoms out for the second time.

you can’t help but chuckle a little at his fixation on your bodies meshing together. you reach with a gentle hand and caress the side of his face and he melts into your touch, glancing up at you while his hips begin to move ever so slightly. “you ok?” you ask sweetly, thumb rubbing across the high of his cheekbone.

“i am better than okay.” viktor replies with a small smile. the pupils of his eyes are wide upon looking up at your mutually red face and you manage a weak smile right back at him.

“c’mere. you’re making me feel so good.” you hum and your words make his hips stutter. he moves just a little faster, leaning forward with your guiding hand to allow both of you to kiss. and you kiss him oh so sweetly. your tongue running across his bottom lip and he gladly matches your movement while he keeps his pace thrusting inside of you.

jayce bites down on your shoulder, not to hurt you or anything, just to get your attention as you and viktor share a heated kiss. “don’t forget about me…” he mutters, pouting as he shifts his hips to press his own angry red head against your body.

you gasp softly at the thick of his tip pressing into your skin, causing you to briefly break the kiss with viktor to glance over your shoulder at the pouting man. “well, come on then. make me feel good too.” you tell jayce and it’s all he needs to hear before his hand slips from the back of your thigh to wrap around his thick cock, pressing the head right up against where viktor steadily fucks into you. you return to kissing viktor, eating up every whimper and groan the other man lets loose into your mouth.

jayce times everything else perfectly. as viktor pulls out, jayce rushes inside. his thick cock spears you deeper than vik’s had and you hate to say it but thank fuck for all the prepping jayce had insisted on. he slips deep inside and before you can fully adjust to his size alone, viktor is slipping himself right back inside of you; right next to jayce.

to say you’re stuffed full is an understatement. they both sit deep inside of you, moving just enough to continue to stretch you further now that they’ve managed to fit inside. you can’t help but cry into vik’s mouth, and it’s his turn to eat up every noise you make. and just like with their fingers before, the two fall into a perfect rhythm. viktor dives in, jayce slips out, viktor presses back inside; the combo leaves you breathless.

jayce’s hands return to your thighs as he ruts inside of you, messy but he makes up for it with his girth while viktor places perfectly angled thrusts into every sensitive bit inside your throbbing pussy. you break the kiss with a sharp cry as the two continue, hearing vik whimper at how much tighter you must feel now. meanwhile jay is in your ear grunting harshly with each thrust. “fuck.” he groans, hips never faltering as pleasure takes hold of him while he slips and slides right up against viktor. his nose digs into the crook of your neck and he practically pants against you, fingers tightening on your thighs.

you can’t even respond. words are nonexistent to you anymore as you’re split in half with both men fucking you; and all you can do is weep with pleasure. your orgasm is quick to build up again, it doesn’t take much now anyway, as the burn returns inside of your lower half. viktor presses his head against your other shoulder and somehow the two know to turn and place kisses against your throat. you were definitely going to be sore tomorrow but would need a damn turtleneck at this point too…you can’t complain though.

“going to…” viktor whispers against your neck and you nod in agreement. you were also getting closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm too.

doesn’t help when jayce suddenly ups his speed and deepens his thrusts, throwing both you and viktor into a spiraling mess. “j-jayce!” you cry, his fingers tightening again against your thighs as he practically piledrives inside of you, wildly thrusting against viktor as well.

“can’t last.” jayce grunts, burying his nose as deep as he can into your neck once more. “finish together.” he adds with a deep groan.

viktor is the first to lose himself. he slips out, whimpering, thrusting into his hand to finish himself off across your hip. you, mere seconds after vik, finish with jayce still pounding into you. he fucks you through your orgasm as it crashes down on you like a wave. you try to form any semblance of words but nothing slips past your lips besides pathetic whines. and with you squeezing tight around jayce through your much needed orgasm, it brings him into his own. his hips stutter harshly a few more times inside your spent pussy before he’s slipping out of you, quickly fucking the rest of his climax out against his hand, roping every last drop out onto your thigh and hip.

after his finish, all three of you return to mostly silence then, the lab being filled with nothing but your shared heavy breaths in the wake of your orgasms. you slump against jayce as viktor leans against you, running a hand to smooth through viktor’s hair as you all try and collect yourselves. and to think this all happened because you were too impatient to wait for nightfall. the thought put a small smile on your lips.

“gods. i need a shower.” you cut through the silence, smiling fondly as both jayce and viktor manage weak laughs. “but i don’t think i’ll be walking for a little while.” you add as you semi stretch out along jayce’s strong lap, soreness already settling into your hips.

as if sudden dots are connected, both men realize that they’ve completely—for lack of better words—soiled you; covered in their sticky mess during the midst of their highs. viktor scrambles to find something to clean you up with as jayce shifts and adjusts you onto the desk he previously had been sitting on to help in the search with viktor. shamefully, they come up with nothing besides jayce’s large shirt and he tries cleaning you up the best he can with it.

meanwhile, you try your best not to laugh as he forfeits up his clothes, staining his shirt with the mess he and viktor shared. you watch with soft eyes as jayce cleans you up while vik dresses himself, handing you jayce’s jacket to semi cover yourself with. “next time…let’s use a bed. and be closer to a proper bath.” you hum ’innocently’.

with both men staring at you with shocked faces, you’re unable to hold back anymore; you break out into laughter as viktor and jayce both chirp a surprise; “next time?“

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sweetshuga · 4 months ago

Text

CS ✧ Simple solution ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

Contains⚠︎ Smut!, threesome!, strong language!, polyamory, suggestive remarks, pet names (ma, pretty), degrading words (whore, slut) + lowkey degradation kink, oral (m! & f! receiving), handjob, p in v (unprotected, do not), some kinda kink with looking alike? No incest! (don't fw that shit), etc. ⚠︎

wc. 827

i/n. I don't mind writing y/n as reader's referred term but like... I've bad, bad, bad memories of the term y/n, like i cringe every time I see it and it's all because of wattpad. Therefore, i'll forever use ma and pretty, thank you<3

psa. English is not my first language! Initial idea! (turned out kinda different.)

Loud moans echoed throughout the room, only to get muffled a few seconds later. "Fuck—stop squirming, ma." Chris grunted as he surged forward, "can’t, fuck... fully go in," he muttered, holding your hips tightly. A second pair of hands gripped your waist and helped to keep you still.

The sensation of Chris filling you up from behind and Matt from the front made you feel overwhelmed. Matt chuckled breathlessly, sensing your difficulty breathing, as he took his length out of your mouth—making you gasp for air. 𓆩♡𓆪

"Y’think we look alike right now?" You looked up from your phone, seeing them in very similar outfits and hats on backwards. "Holy fuck, you actually kinda do," you laughed as you stood up from Matt’s bed, walking closer to them.

"Matt’s hair has grown out a lot, kid needs a new haircut," Chris commented, "but that’s what makes you two look more similar." Your added comment made them momentarily freeze. "Y’think so?" Matt chuckled, fixing his hat, earning a nudge from Chris. "C’mon, don’t steal my haircut."

"Your haircut?" Chris laughed slightly, "yeah, mine," he said grinning, purposely trying to annoy him. "You really do need a haircut though, I like yours shorter," you said, making Matt grin, "yeah? y’like mine shorter, pretty?" His voice dropped into a lower tone, stepping closer to you.

𓆩♡𓆪

You found yourself, somehow, kissing Matt passionately. Your clothes discarded on his bedroom floor and Chris kissing down your body. You’ve no idea what triggered them to suddenly do what they were doing, but it’s not like you were complaining.

Matt groaned in annoyance as his hair kept getting all up in his face, running a frustrated hand through it as he broke the kiss. He saw Chris still keeping his cap on despite his – otherwise – naked state. An idea popped up in Matt’s head as he reached for his own discarded hat, putting it on backwards just like Chris.

You didn’t even realize Matt’s hat as Chris started to eat you out with such sudden force that you couldn’t control your moans. Matt chuckled as he saw the scene, guiding your hand towards his aching dick. You barely kept yourself from squirming as Chris went on, your hand pumping Matt’s length while your other hand clutched onto Chris’ hair.

Chris’ left hand held your right leg down onto the bed while his right hand pumped himself—all while eating you out like he was starving, slurping and sucking loudly. Matt helped Chris by holding down your other leg, making you moan louder as they held you down, unable to move away from the intense pleasure.

Your gaze wandered over to Matt from Chris, seeing them looking so similar made your pussy throb for some reason. Chris smirked against your folds when he gazed up and saw that Matt had worn his own hat in a similar way as him.

"Fuck, you’ve a thing for lookalikes or sum’, ma?" Chris chuckled as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why? s’she getting wetter?" Chris’ gaze left yours and onto Matt’s as he nodded with that shit-eating grin, "yeah, so wet." Matt chuckled, making your face flush in embarrassment.

They exchanged a knowing look, already planning on doing this again as they adjusted their hats.

𓆩♡𓆪 Your gasps eventually turned into moans as Chris fucked you relentlessly, "so fucking good," he groaned, planting a sharp slap on your ass. You jolted and whimpered, unable to move away as Matt held your shoulders tightly. You didn’t even notice when his hands moved up to your shoulders from your waist.

Matt shifted his position, holding your shoulder with one hand while the other gripped his own length, giving it a few pumps, "open up, pretty." Despite your fucked up state, you found yourself complying.

"Damn, ma... y’take us so well— such a slut." Chris slammed his hips hard against your backside, emphasizing his words. "Mm... c’mon, pretty." Matt hissed through clenched teeth, holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail, "show us what a whore you are."

Encouraged by their words, you met Chris’ thrusts as your mouth worked Matt, making both of them groan and moan in pleasure. You could tell they were both close, their cocks pulsing in your holes. You felt a rush of pleasure and satisfaction knowing you were giving them such intense pleasure that they could’t stop groaning and moaning.

Their hands clutched onto any part of you that they could hold on as they used your holes for their own pleasure, chasing the delicious pleasure you were providing them. You couldn’t stop the knot from forming in your stomach, threatening to consume your mind, almost too much, almost.

Your mind blanked when they went balls deep in both your holes, filling you up to the brim. The sensation bordered on too much and your body responded immediately, convulsing as you orgasmed hard. Your world blurred as you felt yourself get consumed by the pleasure.

Masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 Taglist

Chratt taglist: @bells-sturn @h3arts4nat @zombiesturniolo @urfavnickgirl @cwistofurr @l0s3rhaha @goingtojohnkramershouse @blahblahblahm @lilyyliloo @shoo-00 @ariana2saucyy

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velvetures · 2 years ago

Text

Got Me Snoring

A/N: One of my favorite things inspired by all the Ghost/König cosplayer TikToks using that one, song audio. Summary: Ghost admits getting head is boring. Reader isn't happy with that idea and goes about changing his mind. T/W: NS/FW 18+ Only, blowjobs, deepthroating, size kink if you squint, spit?, cursing, aggressive tension?, taunting, not proofread, and it's been a long ass time since I've written full-on smut.

“All I’m sayin’ is that if she calls again, I’m not about to answer.” Soap’s voice carried from the living space of the hotel room to the kitchenette where you stood microwaving some rice from a convenience store down the street.

After-mission talk always leads to the most strange conversations. Maybe the adrenaline or the high of getting almost killed got everyone in a talking mood. However as the Captain slid behind you to go grab more ice outside in the hallway, you couldn’t help but shoot him a questioning look. They’d been talking about their previous accomplishments and failures in the bedroom for nearly twenty minutes, and thankfully they’d not roped you into the ridiculous conversation but with the Captain leaving out of the room, it drew their eyesight right to you standing patiently for your instant rice to finish cooking.

“What about you, huh?” Gaz was the one to poke a little. “Have any horror stories from the bedroom?” His eyebrows raised in mischievous curiosity as all three men sat staring at you with great intent.

“I’ve faked it plenty of times.” You reply offhandedly, waving a hand at them and going back to staring at the small plastic cup rotating around in the microwave.

You overheard the men pass through the moment of silence with low laughs, most noticeably, Ghost. Who’d apparently found something very funny and decided to grace everyone with the sound of deep and resounding chuckles. With a gloved hand, you take out your food and rejoin them in the room, finding a spot on the corner of one of the beds and crossing your legs to hold the bowl while you watch and listen to more of their recounted stories.

Soap complained more about the one night he’d met up with one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, and drank himself into oblivion to try and ease his nerves. The only problem was, that when he finally had enough liquid courage to make a move, he couldn’t get it up. Even watching him recount the tale now, you could see his embarrassment. You couldn’t imagine just how beautiful that woman had to be for Soap to give himself whiskey-dick so bad that to this day he regretted the memory and undoubtedly wished he could take it back. Gaz got pressured into retelling the story of the woman he met in Russia just for you since you’d never heard it; Detailing just how she’d been absolutely obsessed with him right from the get-go.

She couldn’t stop fawning over his accent and just how downright good-looking he was. Gaz on the other hand felt very embarrassed and never really tried to take things further on that trip. Fortunately for him, on a trip back a few months later for pleasure, he ran into the woman again and this time around she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Soap and Ghost laughed, poking fun at how utterly exhausted Garrick was when he met up with them in London. His shit-eating grin was more than enough for them to surmise that his little Russian vixen had taken him for a hell of a ride.

Then there was Ghost.

He didn’t have much to say in the way of his own successes, but did share one or two small comparisons with the other two as they kept pulling out detail after detail about the many people they’d met over the years and how they either felt they’d left their mark… or totally fucking missed it. All of it came to a very interesting topic that you suddenly became very interested in when Ghost uttered one single statement that left your mouth hanging open and staring at him almost in disbelief.

“I don’t like someone blowin’ my cock,” his voice sounded flat. Totally unbothered and nearly sleeping at the idea. “Never cared much for it when half doesn’t fit.”

You couldn’t help but insert yourself into the conversation after a long hour or so of sitting like a viewer at a movie. “Wait a second… You mean to tell me you don’t like getting head because you're too big?” The gasp in your tone was obvious, and even Soap and Gaz looked at him a little strangely as if they didn’t truly believe the idea either. It gave you a bit more reassurance in your belief that almost all men enjoyed it. Sure, there was the odd chance that Ghost just didn’t like it at all, but you really wanted to hear his explanation if he’d give you one.

The Lieutenant turned to look at you and nodded stiffly. “Yeah, ‘bout always puts me to sleep.”

It was at this point you felt the slightest urge to tell him he’d never had someone give him a legitimately good blowjob before. But before you could even say something to the contrary, a thought crossed your mind. Ghost didn’t seem like the kind of man who attracted ill-experienced women. Especially when he had already proven throughout the evening that his previous encounters were much more interesting and expansive than even that of yourself. Something a bit… jealous rose inside of you at the thought.

Imagining your Lieutenant laying on his back and hardly making any sort of sound while someone pulls out every single trick in their arsenal to make a blowjob somewhat entertaining or arousing. You didn’t necessarily profess yourself to have a crush on Ghost, due to just how grey the line between operators and anything felt when you spent so much time together under high-stress environments. There was bound to be some level of emotional attachment that devolved past… professional. And for whatever it was, knowing that Ghost had such a bad opinion on the receiving end of pleasure became a challenge you wanted to overcome.

About that time, Price returned with half-melted ice and a half-smoked cigar hanging between his lips.

“Finished talking about chasin’ tail yet?” He grumbled, walking past the group of you still sitting around each other like a bunch of kids getting caught staying up late by Dad at a sleepover. “Wanna go to fuckin’ sleep.”

He dropped the ice bucket down on the dresser with a little thud before settling himself down on the pull-out couch with his hat covering his eyes and both arms resting behind his head with that cigar still puffing smoke rings into the air. Ghost was the first to stand up, making his way out of the hotel room without as much as a comment about when he’d be back or where he was going. Your eyes trailed over his shoulders tapering into a slim waist before giving way again to thick and muscular thighs enhanced by all of gear still strapped to his body. His kit did leave a lot to the imagination. And god did your mind start to wander as both Soap and Gaz began winding down, settling themselves down to sleep for the night or at least lay somewhere quietly so the Captain didn’t lose any more of his patience and kick someone out or force them to pay for their own room. Not nearly tired enough with all of the questions and thoughts about Ghost now floating through your mind, you didn’t care the least bit about laying down or pretending not to care about the fact of the matter and headed out of the hotel room after the Lieutenant as Soap turned out the final lamp in the corner of the room.

The air was a bit cold outside without your jacket, breath materializing in front of you in light wisps of fog with every exhale as you looked down both ends of the hallway hoping to see some sign of where Ghost might’ve gone to. Down on the far left side, a larger cloud of smoke blew past the breezeway entrance and you knew right away that Ghost would be at the end of it. And when your eyes peeked around the corner, you weren’t the least bit surprised to see him with a shoulder resting up against the wall; his back to you with enough of his mask pulled up so that he could smoke a cigarette. The sweet vanilla and cherry smell hit you like a wall, reminding you that Ghost preferred rolling his own cigarettes and used pipe tobacco instead of buying packs of anything else.

Leaves no trace behind… He’d explained without prompting one night after noticing that you’d been watching him.

“Followin’ me now?” His voice heavy with smoke and unhindered by his mask landed directly on you, not even needing to turn around to know you were the one tailing after him.

“Couldn’t let you freeze to death alone.” You reply with a little smile, taking it as your chance to go ahead and walk -slowly- over to him giving him the privacy to smoke without needing to fuss with keeping his face covered.

By standing just at his back leaning against the wall, he knew right where you were, and it put the weight of conversation on him for the moment. He gave you a gruff sort of sound and took another drag off his cigarette before turning just far enough to offer it to you. You take it from his gloved fingers carefully, licking your lips a little in slight nervousness. This wasn’t the first time he’d offered you a hit, but it was the first time you’d ever actually taken him up on it. Seeing the damp rolling paper on the end made you shiver a little; Hopefully, the cold weather would be a good enough excuse to keep him from recognizing your sudden anxiety around him. Wrapping your lips around it and inhaling, you’re a little more than guilty for noticing the taste of Ghost instead of the vanilla and cherry. With a quick glance to your side, you saw his mask was pulled back down over his mouth and his dark eyes were focused right on you as you blew the smoke out of your mouth and back in through your nose. Attempting to hand it back, he just shakes his head.

“You didn’t come out here to be cold,” He finally broke the silence. “What’d you really want from me?”

No matter how long you spent around Ghost, you never got used to just how miserably direct Ghost could be. Like nothing was truly surprising to him or worth being the least bit delicate over. Even if it concerned someone -like yourself- at least attempting to be a little more discretionary. Yet you sighed and took another drag before tossing the rest of it down on the concrete, putting out the ember with the toe of your boot.

“Were you lying earlier?” Your question falls a little short of confident, giving Ghost the impression right away that you were nervous. For a split second, you thought you saw the phantom of a smile under the cover of his mask before it was quickly hidden back under late-night shadow and white paint. Ghost put his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt and gave a sigh, making more fog swirl around and through the woven material around his mouth. Another thought of what his mouth looked like flashed through your failing mind.

“Why would it matter?”

You licked at your bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to word this without sounding desperate or downright shameless in front of your commanding officer… you shouldn't be thinking about doing this in the first place. So many more bad outcomes could come of this than the one good one. Even then, it was risky. Leaving you a bit dazed and staring at Ghost.

“Asked you a question. I’m expectin’ an answer.” He pressed forward, a slight swagger in his hips as he got closer to you, resting a hand on the wall and tilting his head a little to the side. Damn near mocking you for being so much smaller and easily intimidated. You look down at your boots for a moment, deciding to just put your money where your mouth is and take the hit no matter the outcome.

“If you weren’t lying…” You look up, internally screaming at how heavy his eyes look down on you. “I’d like to try and change your mind.”

A deep chuckle comes from the Lieutenant in response followed by his heavy hand resting on your shoulder, almost totally engulfing it.

“You’re jokin’,” His voice lowered with humor that made you almost shrivel up and die inside. “Why would I let you do that?” You give a frustrated sigh and take a step back away from Ghost. Mentally and physically distancing yourself from the slight Ghost had given you by accident or otherwise.

“Never mind.” You give a short nod and turn on your heel to head back to the hotel room and find somewhere to curl up on the floor or in a bed with someone and try to sleep off your damaged ego.

Yet five steps away from Ghost, you’re stopped short with his arm snaked around your waist tightly and his mouth resting against your ear with a heavy and hot breath fanning against your neck. His palm spreads over your stomach and squeezes almost aggressively at the soft flesh under your shirt. Tall and wide, Ghost yanks your back flush to his chest as a silent threat.

“Don’t fuckin’ walk away from me,” His low growl makes you shiver. “I’m not finished with ya.”

In an instant, you’re spun around and hauled aggressively with your back against the nearest wall with Ghost’s chest holding you from fighting back. His legs limit your ability to try and escape out from under his arms, and while one hand is flat against your chest, the other restricts both your wrists above your head. Breath evacuates your lungs with the sudden shock of your back against the wall, but your eyes are locked on Ghost’s as he glares at you harshly through the wavering mist of his breath in the cold air.

“Now I’ve got you pacified…” His smirk was clear in tone, outright mocking you by pressing those massive thighs tighter against yours. “Let’s continue shall we?” The gloved hand pressed against your heaving chest slides up to grasp firmly at your chin and jerk it up to look him in the eyes.

“Why don’t you be a good little thing and tell me why you think you could change my mind, and maybe… I won’t punish you for talkin’ shit to your superior officer.” He spat loudly, his face less than an inch from yours, eyes flaming with aggression.

“Sorry Lieutenant…” You mutter stiffly through the struggle of his hand against your jaw. “Thought I could do better.” You add a lot weaker, averting your eyes as far from Ghost as you can.

“What was that?” He made dark fun of you, terribly obvious, and downright happy with himself. “Say it again.”

You squirm in his grasp, only to get your wrists slid up higher on the wall and a thigh shoved between your own to lift your feet almost totally off the ground. Toes tapping the ground, Ghost holds you totally of his own power without the slightest effort needed to keep you held right where he wanted you to be.

“Thought I could do better.” You repeat yourself louder, and more clearly, feeling utterly stupid for enduring such pathetic treatment. Only you knew it was your fault for letting such a pipe dream of an idea come to reality by prodding Ghost about his sex life so confidently. The masked man hummed lowly, tilting his head as he inspected your face lighted only by a small sliver of moonlight creeping around the corner of the hallway.

“Better, huh?” Ghost chuckles darkly, this thumb tracing over the bottom curve of your lip carefully. “That’s a lot of confidence for someone so small.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Size has nothing to do with it.”

Ghost barks laughter, grumbling something under his breath before dropping his hand away from your jaw and releasing one of your hands to press against his groin. You can’t miss his meaning from the massive erection pressing back against your hand and twitching impatiently when your Lieutenant squeezes your hand around it tighter. A growl escapes his throat and he looks up at you with almost evil eyes.

“Still think size doesn’t matter, little one?” He questions, one eyebrow raising above the hemline of his mask.

Your mouth falls open in shock. Not only because of the sheer girth of Ghost’s cock pulsing in your hand but realizing that he was actually taking your proposal seriously no matter how aggressive his mockery of you was. It shouldn’t have been so damn surprising when taking into account just how large of a man Ghost is. Surely everything would be proportionate, and his erection was proof of it.

Your face is enough to make Ghost chuckle. “That’s what I thought…”

It’s enough of a dismissal that thaws your speechlessness and throws you right back into the present with enough of the guts to speak up for your own desires.

“I can do it,” You blurt breathlessly, fingers tracing along the curve of Ghost’s dick and earning a lusty growl from him. “I can make it good. I’ll make it fit.” You nod your head feverishly in an attempt to keep your chance open. Ghost’s eyes widen at your desperation and his cock twitches hard in your palm with the sound of your shallow breaths and pleading eyes.

“You want it, huh?” He questions, mask moving like he’s grinning under it.

“Then get on your fuckin’ knees.”

The moment his hands release you, you feel yourself sliding down the wall until your knees make a bruising thud against the concrete floor in front of Ghost. Your hands holding on his thighs without the slightest care that you were standing in the middle of a hotel breezeway where anyone could see you. A weight settled in your lower stomach with the idea of anyone coming out of their room and witnessing such a sight.

“My belt.” Ghost instructs a bit pinched, looking down at you with his chin almost touching his chest.

You’re frantic yet shaking as your hands slide up his thighs and begin pulling his belt loose, hearing that metallic clink as you pull the two sides apart with a watering mouth. No instruction is necessary for you to know where to go next, and as you unbutton his cargo pants, your free hand palms his cock as you pull down just enough of his waistband to expose him but not make him cold. Ghost’s hands help just a little, settling extra material where he prefers it, almost patiently holding up his own hoodie and t-shirt out of your way as you slid your hands under his boxers.

“Fuck…” Ghost mutters quietly, tensing when your fingers wrap around his base and free him from his underwear.

Your thumb smears over his swollen head soft enough to not make him jerk away with sensitivity, and you lick your lips at just how wet his cock already is from sheer anticipation. Hell, you were turned on too, practically dripping in your underwear at the sight of Ghost with nothing but a perfect dick exposed and ready for your mouth. The first lick is a teasing one. Flattening it over his head just because you couldn’t wait to taste him, gathering up his arousal, and making it a point to swallow with your eyes locked right on Ghost’s. You're certain it’s enough to affect him just by the way he grunts and rests both of his hands against the wall behind you to steady himself.

When your lips wrap around his tip and slide down towards his base slowly, you hollow your lips and suck hard. Almost mimicking drinking through a straw with both hands wrapped around his thick base to restrict blood flow, adding to his sensitivity. You feel his feet flex in his boots next to your thighs and another low grunt. It spurs you forward, sinking down further and massaging your tongue on the underside before raising back up to lick at his frenulum and repeating the process with quiet whines each time he’s unable to hold back some sound.

“Shit-” He hisses after no more than a couple of minutes, jerking his hips back away from you and moving your hands out of the way so he could tighten his own fist around his cock with a heaving chest.

He stays like that for a few moments, undoubtedly trying to stave off the pleasure you’d been giving before his eyes meet yours again and they’re downright hungry and raging with fury that you’d brought him so close without any extra fancy moves or those fake moans that porn always showed. With one quick movement, he stepped closer and tilted your head back until it gently rested against the wall behind you, his cock smearing your own spit and his arousal over your open and awaiting mouth.

“You look pretty like this…” He muttered, rubbing his length over your face and tapping it teasingly against your mouth. “You hungry for more?” You’re sticking out your tongue and nodding right away, earning you a tense chuckle and the feeling of Ghost’s dick sliding into your mouth while his hand cushions the back of your head from the wall.

“Let me feed it to ya,” He grunts. “Shove my fat cock in your mouth and fuck your throat..” He adds with a feral sort of sound mixing with an ever-thickening accent.

You moan around his length, feeling your jaw muscles begin to start aching when your nose just barely grazes his pubic bone and his tip touches the back of your throat. He’s thick enough to qualify as the largest you’ve ever experienced, but you’re not the slightest bit concerned about whether he’ll be able to fit. You know he’ll make it fit if nothing else.

And him utterly pounding your throat sounded so hot that you tried pushing further down on his shaft yourself. Eager to feel Ghost as deep in you as possible. Ghost obliges you, and rocks his hips forward slowly, easing his thick head past that ring of pressure at the back of your throat and cursing under his breath when a wet, gurgling sound vibrates around his shaft as you begin swallowing around him.

“Bloody, fuucckk yes…” His groans punch through the quiet air, far louder than he should be risking in such a public space. But he’s only getting started with this experience as your nose presses against his pubic bone, and his hand flattens against the wall.

“So tight… doggin’ me right where anyone can see.”

It’s the thought that had you so eager, and right away you felt just how much it turned Ghost on too. Because the second he said it, he pulled back just a fraction and pushed himself back down your throat, beginning tight and quick thrusts that made your eyes roll back. He kept a furious pace, growling and holding tight to the back of your head until you tapped at the back of his thigh a few times, and he pulled out with a loud grunt, giving you a moment to breathe. You panted, seeing a thick web of spit connecting your mouth and his tip before watching it break and drip down your shirt.

You’re about to tell Ghost… something. But you instantly lose thought of it when he’s bent down with his mask rucked up just far enough to smash his mouth to yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth and practically eating you from the inside out. You can still taste the salty edge of his skin, and it’s almost heady to have his mouth mingling with yours and sharing his arousal between soft moans and heavy breaths. The kiss is long and feverish, but not near long enough before he’s standing back up and stroking his fist up and down his cock right in front of you like an unreal kind of dream somehow coming to life.

“Please.” You mutter a bit hoarse from the rough treatment of your throat, totally unsure of what you really want most. Between his mouth, words, and dick there’s so much more than just one you desired, but at least one of them needed to be delivered to you to attempt satisfaction.

“Open up, little one…” Ghost whispers face re-masked already, and it makes you whine pathetically, having naively believed he’d allow you just one glimpse at the mouth you’d just tasted. “Need to have more of you.” You’re totally happy to resign by leaning your head back against the wall with your tongue wetting your lips in the cold air.

Ghost starts painfully slow, holding your head on both sides of your jaw and teasing his head against your tongue and the textured roof of your mouth; indiscernible words falling from his mouth and his eyes squeezed tightly shut. You would’ve thought it was nothing more than your Lieutenant just taking his pleasure as offered. But the way his thumbs brushed over your cheeks and his fingers would occasionally rub over the stretched muscles in your jaw gave you the feeling that he was well aware of what you were surrendering to him. As well as how thankful he was to have you on your knees, and looking so fucking angelic swallowing and spitting on his dick like a dirty little whore.

“Let me - Wanna…” His rising breaths and steady strokes begin to falter the longer he thrusts inside your mouth, meticulously avoiding forcing himself deeper in disappointment; resulting in your whining and muffled complaints and pleasure. Had his hands not been purposefully holding you back to prolong the session, Ghost probably wouldn’t have lasted this long.

“P-patience…” His stammer made your chest clench in satisfaction. “Don’t - don’t wanna finish in your mouth…”. That breathy comment nearly struck you stiff as concrete.

You couldn’t believe that after this entire ordeal, Ghost was actually trying to end a blowjob without you finishing it the way you honestly believed it should always end. With you swallowing every last fucking drop that the Lieutenant gave you; wearing a goddamn smile bigger than anyone has ever seen. If he hadn’t been lying and head never impressed him, there wasn’t a chance in Hell you were going to let him finish anywhere that wasn’t down your throat. In a split second, you were shaking your head no and pulling back off his cock with a slight gasp.

“No, finish.” It’s the most demanding and certain you’ve sounded all night. “Finish in my mouth, Ghost.”

His eyes say it all.

They’re wide with his pupils blown at impressive dimensions and his thick eyelashes flutter as his shocked expression forces him to blink over and over again to make sense of you. Mouth and chin covered in spit, on your knees, and literally begging him to come in your mouth.

“Goddamn, you’re so fucking filthy…” He mutters aloud, watching intently as you slide back down over him one more time and begin doing what you wanted to from the very beginning.

Bring Ghost to his knees.

It’s a moment before you have him cursing and holding onto the wall with both hands again as you push deeper and deeper until you're teasing the tip of your nose against him yet again. Unwilling to let him pull you off this time or prolong this. Deserving this release was the bare minimum. Not only did you want to provide him ultimate pleasure where no one else had, but you enjoyed every single bit of it. You needed this as much -if not more- than Ghost.

Heavy and twitching in your mouth, Ghost was teetering on the edge of his orgasm with stuttering hips and one hand sliding down to rest on your head. Not pushing this time, just laying at the crown like your movements were too much to feel with only one part of his body. Short pants were cut short by unintelligible words and strained attempts to say what you already knew.

As if giving your final approval of the idea Ghost had found unacceptable, you push him as deep as you could one final time; Hearing his loud shout echo down the breezeway as both of his hands grabbed harshly onto the sides of your head. Pumping stream after stream of his hot release down your throat you moaned deeply, feeling him gently rock his hips against your face as he rode down his high on shaky legs. You gagged a little as he pulled out, feeling your throat begin to burn in an unfamiliar way that had never followed you sharing a moment like this with another man. Only one look at Ghost’s cock right in front of your face was more than enough to reassure you he’d just been the one who gave you enough of a delicious stretch to feel for days to come.

Your eyes met his and a small little shy smile crossed your sore lips, contrasting the absolutely deplorable -and punishable- act you’d ever committed with a superior officer. Wordlessly Ghost tucked himself back into his underwear and neglected to button his pants back up before dropping to a knee right in front of you and pulling up his mask again to brush his lips against yours.

“Want to taste,” He whispered ever-so-softly, hands holding your head gently.

“Need to taste me inside your mouth.” He added, licking your lips before closing the distance between you for a second time. This kiss was still intense. Ghost controlling the pace and just how much dominance you had, which nearly came to zero when he licked into your mouth, groaning shamelessly. He could taste his release coating your mouth as he utterly overwhelmed you with kisses, licks, bites, and more moans that fell like honey on your ears.

You were the first to pull back for a gasp of air you’d gone full minutes without, feeling your own mouth and body beginning to feel a little weak with exhaustion not typical of a well-conditioned soldier like yourself. Your Lieutenant took note right away and rested his head against yours reassuringly, his nose touching yours.

“You’re too cold to be out here like this.” He whispered, pulling your cheek affectionately and wrapping the other arm around you. “Not gonna let you freeze after that.” He chuckled a bit sluggishly, kissing you again long and chaste.

He pulled his mask back down and gave very little effort to pick you up off your knees and into his arms without question or hesitation. Leaving you feeling like a treasured prize he’d won and refused to let out of his sight for more than a moment. Safe and protected, you couldn’t care one bit about the cold nipping through your thin clothes and resting your head against Ghost’s shoulder as he carried you back to the hotel room the 141 had already retired for the night in.

Expertly avoiding Soap and Gaz laying on couch cushions on the floor and covered with extra bedsheets, sliding around Price’s bed without bumping it, all while carrying you Ghost sat you down on the edge of the bed he’d been keen to claim as his own right when you’d arrived. You were nearly asleep just sitting there when he unlaced your boots enough to tug them off, pulled your shirt off over your head, and replaced it with one of his hoodies. Finally, he takes off your pants and nods for you to move up to the top of the bed, acting just as he would normally. But as he climbed into the bed next to you and tugged you back against him tightly, you realized you’d gotten a lot more than you bargained for.

Sure you might’ve changed Ghost’s mind about getting head… but you weren’t finished yet. Because Ghost was curling his arm around your waist and burying his masked face in between your shoulder blades like cuddling with you at night was the usual way of things. His fingers innocently traced the waistband of your underwear, and he radiated body heat that melted away the fringe sensations of cold on your body easily.

“I’ve made a decision,” He whispers very quietly so as not to wake the others. And you wiggle back a little closer to him, nodding your head as a silent acknowledgment for him to go on. Expecting him to say that you did -in fact- change his mind about getting blown.

“You’re mine now.”

Comments & Reblogs are Appreciated

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #cod #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #velvetures writes #velvetures

12K notes · View notes

archive4pervs · 6 months ago

Text

FILL HER UP AND LEAVE HER DUMB!

SIREN IS TYPING! | FINALLY! PISS FIC IS OUT! i wanted to apologize for taking sosososo long for putting it out, ive been juggling college and writer’s block HORRIBLY >< i’ve written this like 101380203 times and i guess this one is the least mediocre one.. thank you to my babe pillsy & pups for proof reading this and dealing with the fact ive written this like a million times now.. 6.5k words!

WARNINGS! | NSFW! PISS! URINE! PEE! leon will be pissing while he’s balls deep so if you don’t fw piss do not read! don’t! torture! yourself! age gaps, leon isn’t like? the best person? gross, sleazy, i guess! damnation leon is in his mid thirties, reader is in her early twenties, dumbification, semi-public sex? bar bathroom drunk sex, sloppy fucking, creampie, mediocre orgasm cuz leon is gross and only really cared about himself, clit playing, etc etc idk

SYNOPSIS! | damnation! leon kennedy x bimbo! reader — bar hook ups are rare when you’re in your thirties and go to sport bars filled with men, but when a pretty face comes in wearing the sluttiest outfit and doesn’t have a thought in her brain, leon knew he needed to get in a quick fuck. but after a full night of nursing whiskey, he can’t help his bladder filling up mid fuck!

dim lights, chatter, and old men — that’s what this bar was.

so why were you here?

leon was surprised, pretty girls like you don’t come around to places like these often.

look at you! dressed in the sluttiest crop top and skirt you could find. were you stupid? coming to a bar filled with gross middle aged men dressed like that? it was like you were asking for trouble.

leon had been seated at the bar, staring down at his glass blankly, mind fuzzy and blurry while his face stayed void of emotion. he had been on autopilot, maybe if he was at another bar he would be doing something else— but that was empty wishful thinking, once a sip of alcohol enters his system his mind blanks. a way to cope, simply. that was the intention tonight. but that’s when you came in — practically skipping to the bar and taking the empty seat next to him.

he had glanced over at you, a thoughtless action, but when he saw you, he was pleasantly surprised by what he saw.

you were cute, sitting up with perfect posture, your tits practically spilling out of your shirt while you stared at the bartender with sparkling eyes, and you were sitting next to him? god must’ve heard his prayers and thrown him a bone.

he kept a sly gaze on you while you ordered, watching you bat your eyelashes at the bartender while you ordered, biting your glossy lips in thought while you leaned against the counter. leon felt envious of the bartender, as he stood on the other side of the bar, he must be getting a nice look down your low-cut shirt. asshole.

as you ordered, leon expected to hear you order something fruity, a frozen piña colada or whatever younger girls like you liked, but leon’s eyebrows raised in amusement once he heard your order. “uhh, can i have a cola? thank you!” you said, sounding so eager, leon’s brain reeled, did you really just ask for a soda? at a bar? are you stupid? the bartender simply nodded and turned away from you. you smiled dumbly and shifted in your seat, pulling your denim skirt down to cover your thighs. barely. you pulled out your phone, a cute iphone 4s with a hot pink cover, it suited you.

moving to grip his glass, leon pulled it to his lips before he took a long swig of the drink, a small breath leaving his lips as he put the glass back.

“if you wanted a soda you could’ve gone to circle-k, you know?” leon said, turning his head to face you, a lazy smirk curling at his lips.

your head perked up, and looking over at him, you smiled dumbly. “yeah! but, like, i wanted an excuse to go out! but alcohol is so gross.” you replied, a small laugh leaving your lips as you turned your body to face him fully, leon let out a low hum. “so, you decided to get all dressed up and go to a bar.. just to get a soda? c’mon, at least get a drink.” leon pressed, glancing over at the bartender before looking back at you. “it’s part of the bar experience, sweetheart.” he said, waving his hand in a swift moment as he spoke, you squirmed in your seat, biting your bottom lip, “mmm, i don’t know.. what do you think i’d like?”

leaning back against his stool, leon let out a small laugh, “i don’t know, sweetheart. a strawberry margarita? you like strawberries, yeah? it’s a nice fruity drink, something you can handle.” he nodded, watching as the bartender slid over a glass of soda.

taking the glass, you moved it over to your lips, popping the red straw into your mouth before taking a sip. “are you gonna buy it for me?” you teased, batting your eyelashes up at him before you crossed your legs. huffing, leon let out a small laugh, “what’s in it for me?” did you really think you could drain his wallet and not give him anything in return? c’mon.

“uhm.. you’d make me, like, super happy,” you said, a smile curling on your lips as he stared at him.

“as pretty as your smile is i’m gonna need something more.” he said, you’re already smiling, why would he pay ten bucks to see you smile more? sure, he had the money, but did he want to give it? nah.

“aww,” you whined, “okay, you can get anything you want, mister!” you caved, voice high pitched and cheery. “but, like, as long as it’s not like, i don’t know..wanting my organs or something, i can totally give it to you!” you said, giving him a playful wink. were you being serious? anything? c’mon, that was just too easy, a small smirk curled on his lips at your words, anything?

letting out a breath through his nose, leon crossed his arms over his chest, his leather jacket squeaking at the movement.

“you’re way too eager, sweetheart. you’ll end up in the wrong hands if you continue like that.” he said, moving his head to the side and shifting in his seat, pushing his hips forward, his thighs spreading slightly. manspreading like any other guy at the bar, but your eager eyes flickered down to his pants, watching as the denim fabric curled on his lap.

a spark of thought hit you, your thighs clenched together as a small laugh left your lips, your head moved to the side and you waved his words off.

“c’mon, mister, i’m a big girl— i can toootally handle myself!” you giggled, moving your finger to curl around your hair.

leon let out a hum, not believing a word you said.

“yeah? you can?” he mused, he knew you didn’t.

you nodded though, perking up on your chair, arching your back slightly to keep your posture upright and your tits pushed out. leon took a glance, leopard print shirt that barely fit and a push up bra, your tits were squeezed together in a full display. were you good at tit jobs? with a rack like that, he sure hoped you were.

“well, duh! i’m like, super good at handling myself, mister!” you rebutted, putting your hands on your hips as you hit the power pose, trying to prove your point.

“leon,” he said, your head tilted to the side, “leon?” you asked stupidly.

“that’s my name.”

“ohh.”

you were real cute, but damn, you were real stupid too.

it didn’t take a scientist to figure it out, fuck, look at you.

you stared at leon like a puppy— a stupid puppy look. not a single worry behind your dumb little eyes, you believed the world was at the palm of your hand, and it probably was. from the stories you told him you were nothing more than daddy’s princess, one pout, and dear old dad was pulling out his checkbook and writing off a fat check with how much money you asked for. he was even paying for your apartment, you had it nice, no need to study or learn, daddy’s inheritance would cover any of your worries.

you reminded him of ashley, like a far memory, but ashley was a sweetheart. a smart girl, but you? you were just spoiled and stupid, he didn’t mind though, he could easily deal with you if he wanted to.

leon noticed how you stared at him when he spoke, wide doe eyes focused on him intently like he was the messiah while you were nothing more than an apostle, like the words that slipped from his tongue were the route to salvation. it was silly, he was just some guy in his thirties, buzzed, and in a bar— were you one of those girls that were into that? the cute bimbos that wanted nothing more than a taste of cock from guys over half their age? probably, he’s already caught you sneaking glances at his pants, each shift and adjustment had your eyes glued to his crotch, thinking you were being slick.

god, what a cock hungry whore.

he had noted that as he spoke, you would nod along to his words with such eagerness, it made him wonder if you were even listening to him.

c’mon, his mundane stories weren’t that interesting, maybe if he was honest about his job then he could understand why you seemed so interested, but he was sure if he uttered a single word about the undead the government would have his head. a red little glow dot resting against his forehead and that would be the end of leon scott kennedy.

the government blew up an entire city with the infected and innocents without care to preserve their image. after all, one more life wouldn’t worry them. well, maybe his, leon’s the president’s lap dog after all—

nonetheless, those were secrets he wasn’t going to share with a nice pair of tits. you probably wouldn’t even understand.

you spoke a lot, with a cute little valley girl accent, the words like and totally were practically engraved into your vocabulary. If leon took a shot everytime you said any of the words he would’ve died of alcohol poisoning.

the more you spoke, the more leon realized you didn’t have a sense of safety, it was almost funny. why did he know what high school you went to? what state were you born in? what your favorite doll growing up was? you had just met him and you were letting him in on all your secrets, like that one time you ran over the neighbor's mailbox and fled the scene immediately after, then playing the innocent angel card. or when you cheated on all your trigonometry tests in high school by writing the answers on your upper thigh and then wearing a skirt to have easy access to the answers. in your words, you never got caught because if the teacher asked you to lift your skirt he would be a sick perv!

he wasn’t complaining, your stories were entertaining at the very least, a nice distraction from his own world.

by now, leon had given in and gotten you that margarita, only one, sure he wasn’t a saint— he was a guy in his mid-thirties wanting to fuck a girl almost a decade younger than him— but he wasn’t horrible.

you, on the other hand, had no sense of how to drink alcohol, sipping down the juice like it was juice and the effects were beginning to become apparent by your tittering and giggling.

you were having a great time, getting looser and sloppier as you continued.

“y’know, leon? you’re like, totally hot! likeee, i haven’t met a guy your age that looks this good!” you babbled, giggling at your own words.

nodding, leon raised an eyebrow, “yeah?” he replied, he was getting force fed compliments by you, it was starting to get annoying, but he wouldn’t say that.

you were like a puppy, he already made that connection,

but you were definitely one of those overly clingy puppies, the ones that whimpered and whined when their owner wasn’t in the same room they were in. you’d probably do anything to please your hypothetical owner, you already offered to do anything for a margarita, god knows the skies the limit with bimbos like you.

he wondered if you would follow him out of the bar, like a puppy. where are we going? can i come with you? can you take me in?— okay, maybe not that last part, but he couldn’t be too sure.

you’d have some cute floppy ears as a pup, leon thinks, but that was enough of the puppy metaphors, you were still giggling and babbling stupidities.

after a bit of buttering up, leon decided that if he wanted to make a move on you, it was now more than ever.

you would be more than willing, that’s for sure.

taking out his wallet and calling over the bartender, leon fished out his black american express— sure, it was a silent brag, but he didn’t care.

“i’ll pay for the lady’s drinks too,” leon explained as he signaled over to his side, the man nodded and took his card before stepping away to finish the transaction. you stared at the older man with stars behind your eyes, sparkling under the dim yellow light, “you’re so sweet,” you began, leaning in against his arm, batting your eyelashes up at him.

your arms wrapped around him, hugging it, squeezing and feeling the muscle under the jacket that just so did a good job at hiding his build.

your brain was starting to melt as you squeezed his biceps, “can i make it up for you? i can pay you back,” you cooed, words slurred slightly as you nuzzled your head against his jacket. it smelled nice, he smelled nice. his cologne was almost sweet, and masculine, but not musky and gross, it was so nice, he was just so nice.

leon glanced down at you, taking back his credit card as he did so.

you were so fucking desperate to get fucked it was almost laughable.

“you can make it up to me,” he hummed, his arm slipping around your smaller waist, his hand coming to rest against your hip, squeezing the flesh.

“c’mon,” he nudged, patting your hip before he stood up from the stool and took hold of your hand, leading you away from the bar. it almost seemed like he was taking you to the back exit, was his car back there? you followed behind him, clinging onto his arm, you were nothing more than arm candy for him.

as the music got softer and the chatter died down, leon lead you down the small hallway in the back of the bar, by where the bathrooms were.

you assumed you would just walk past them and slip out through the back door, but instead, leon’s arm moved to rest behind your back, letting you walk in front of him before he pushed you into the men’s bathroom.

stumbling, your gaze moved around the new setting. “leon! you didn’t need to push!” you whined, fixing your skirt as you looked back at the older man. leon was by the door, his hand holding the door knob as he shut the door behind him and locked it. “sorry, sweetheart, couldn’t have anyone see you. you’re not supposed to be in here.” he said, a small huff of amusement leaving his lips as he moved to face you. “men’s,” he reminded, pointing over at the singular urinal by the toilet.

“oh, yeah,” you said, suddenly not seeing an issue with his actions.

“why are we here?” you asked curiously, leaning against the sink, the bathroom was small, just a single-person layout. “you said you wanted to make it up for me, right?” leon reminded, you nodded, your head tilting to the side. “well, you’re gonna make it up to me here, that’s not a problem, right? there’s no harm in a bit of thrill.” he waved off.

“wait, we’re gonna fuck here? but that’s like, totally gross!” you whined, your lips curling into a small pout, leon stepped closer, “it’s not that bad, it’s just a bathroom.” he shrugged, he’s been in worse situations. he’s ran through sewers, lived off scraps in spain, and didn’t have access to showers, he’s been covered in blood and zombie guts before— safe to say, a meek little bathroom at a bar was the least of his worries.

“but like, the floor is gross and sticky!” you whined, why couldn’t he take you back to his place? that’s so not cool!

leon hummed, moving to press your body against the porcelain sink of the bathroom, he stood behind you, his hands resting on your hips nicely. “i’m not gonna throw you against the floor, sweetheart, relax,” he said, a small breath leaving his lips as he moved one of his hands against your upper back, applying pressure and bending you over the sink. your manicured hands moved and gripped the sides of the sink as your head leaned up.

you locked eyes with leon through the mirror, he had the same brooding expression he’s been holding for most of the evening.

leon’s gaze moved from your back to your pretty face as he gazed at you through the mirror, icy blue eyes meeting your warmer ones. “i’m gonna keep you here, yeah? bent over and pretty, so relax.” he explained, his hands moving back down to your hips, sliding down to grip your ass. he squeezed the flesh of your ass before his hands slipped your denim skirt up.

“cute,” he complimented, tone coming out more monotone than he intended. you were wearing these cute literally lace panties, they were a cutesy little pastel pink.

did you always wear these out or were you wearing these just so any guy that wanted to fuck you saw?

your face heated up, your eyebrows furrowing up slightly at his words as you glanced at him. a small whine left your lips, “do you like them?” you asked softly, arching your back nicely, popping your ass out, the curve of it showing off the cute little panties like it was a lingerie ad. or screenshot of a porn video. “yeah,” leon replied, “who are you trying to impress, sweetheart?” he asked, rubbing the curve of your ass idly.

you bit your bottom lip and swayed your hips twice to side in a slow motion, “you?” cheeky. leon let out a scoffing laugh as his hand moved away from your ass before it came back down, smacking your flesh, your body jolted in surprise. “leon!” ouch! what the fuck! “sorry, i couldn’t help it.” leon said from behind you, looking at the mirror, you noticed the lazy smirk on his lips.

“you’re mean, at least give me a warning.” you whined, “that would take away the fun, don’t be a baby.” leon grumbled.

pursing your lips, you let out a small huff, asshole!

leon’s hands moved to your panties, hooking his fingers around the waistband before he tugged them down unceremoniously. he was sloppy and drunk, besides, this was a quick bathroom fuck, he wasn’t going to play like the man of your dreams.

chewing on the inside of your cheek, you felt the bathroom breeze caress your exposed skin.

leon didn’t care enough to push your panties down to your ankles, deciding to just leave them by your mid-thigh.

his hands reached back up to your ass before he angled your hips up slightly and slipped down to his knees. “leon—?” you were just about to ask what he was doing before you were cut off by a gasp being ripped out of your lungs, feeling his warm tongue press against your puffy pussy.

leon’s lips were pressed against your cunt, one hand holding your thigh up as your weight rested on the porcelain sink, the edge of the sink still digging against your pelvis uncomfortably— but the attention to your pussy was making the discomfort a forgotten thought.

“leon!” you squeaked, your hand squeezing the sink as he sloppily licked and sucked on your cunt.

was it the best head you’ve ever gotten? no, but you didn’t care— given that it was an older man and hotter than any grimy guy your age, you didn’t really care!

huffing against your cunt, leon slipped his tongue between your folds, he wasn’t doing this to get you off either, but he didn’t have lube, so spit was the second-best option. with his eyes shut, his nails dug into your thighs, savoring the taste of your cunt.

you kept your back arched and your ass stuck out as small mewls and whines left your glossy lips, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as your breathing got shaky.

his licks were quick and sloppy, his own spit rolling down his chin, making his skin glossy before she pulled away from your cunt— a line of drool connecting his tongue and your cunt.

you let out a noise of displeasure, that was so quick and anti-climactic!

standing back up, leon huffed as he stared down at you, catching the pout on your lips. “what? did you want me to go in without prep?” he asked, letting out a small breathy laugh, “should’ve just told me.” he shrugged, his hands slipping down to his pants as he sloppily undid his belt, fumbling with the leather.

“what? no!” without prep? that would hurt!

“then stop pouting.” leon bit back.

slipping his cock out of his pants, he let out a shaky breath as his hand wrapped around it. beating his fist around his dick, leon huffed, feeling his cock come to life slowly— the whiskey was making it hard to keep his cock up, but eventually, he managed a semi.

good enough.

moving his cock against your slick cunt, leon nudged the tip against your warm pussy, teasing your folds. letting out a small breath through parted lips, your eyes shut, focusing on the feeling.

tilting his head to the side as his gaze stayed focused on your cunt, watching your spit covered folds spread as he rubbed his tip up and down your slit, slipping it under before he slapped his shaft against your puffy clit, watching your shoulders tense at the feeling:

“g’nna put it in,” leon mumbled, slurring his words slightly.

“o-okay.”

slipping his tip back against your slit, leon nudged his cock forward, his tip pushing apart your walls, they eagerly spread— warm and wet, welcoming his cock nicely.

sucking in a sharp breath, leon clenched his jaw as his lips pursed, fuck, was the only thought in his mind.

feeling his cock push past your pussy walls in a slow, savoring pace, your eyes fluttered as they rolled back, your lips parting as a shallow gasp left your lips. gripping the porcelain sink, you whined. “leon..” you mumbled, biting your bottom lip as you raised your gaze to look at him through the mirror.

“yeah?” he mused, his hips and thighs resting flat against your ass as he held your hips. meeting his gaze, his own eyes were lidded, face flushed pink, “i haven’t even started n’you’re already whimpered like a puppy.” he huffed, moving one hand to your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair as he yanked it back— making your back arch almost painfully.

a sharp yelp left your lips at the movement, “..leave me alone,” you replied to his tease, your eyes shutting.

leon said nothing in reply, instead, he pulled his hips back, feeling your walls hug him snugly, a shuddering breath leaving his lips as he did so. you might be a fucking idiot, but your pussy was making his brain numb.

gasping out a moan, you felt his cock pull back before it slipped back inside your cunt, his cock nuzzling against your cervix. your pussy was practically a fleshlight if leon thought about it.

drunk bathroom sex wasn’t something out of a dream or a porno, it wasn’t meant to be meticulous and romantic, it was gross and sloppy— that’s what this was. leon’s cock stuffing in and out of your pretty pussy at an uneven pace, hard, fast, and sloppy.

“f—fuck—“ you choked out, your hand moving to rest against the mirror as you clung desperately onto something. your eyes were shut, lips parted into an ‘o’ shape as his cock bullied your pussy, “s-slow down!” you squeaked. leon groaned, “you can take it, relax.“ he muttered, hips snapping against yours, heavy balls slapping against your puffy clit.

letting out a drawn-out moan, you shook your head dumbly, your brain mushy, “no..” you mumbled. yes, you could take it, if anything, you wanted it, but what happened to having fun? leon let out a small grunt, gripping your hair and making you arch more— he leaned over slightly and pressed a small kiss on your forehead, “your pussy is telling me otherwise, sweetheart.” he cooed, letting go of your hair before he gripped your forearms and brought them to your back, keeping them flush against your back before using them as leverage to continue fucking your cunt.

your eyes rolled back as your body rested against the porcelain, fuck! you were so turned on it was hard to place it into words—! you couldn’t even speak.

guttural moans were leaving your lips, your walls fluttering around his cock, squeezing and gripping, sucking his cock back inside you greedily.

while leon fucked you, he realized how increasingly louder you were getting. your pretty moans were nothing but an ego boost, but he shouldn’t be fucking a twenty-something-year-old girl in a public bathroom, he doubts the shitty country music that played through the bar speakers was going to be able to drown out your noise if you continue, so he moved to grip your wrists in one hand before he reached out from behind you and clasped over your mouth.

your cunt squeezed, “shhh,” leon cooed, “can’t let people hear you, remember?” he reminded, making sure you kept quiet. nodding, you moaned into his hand and squirmed, cheek pressed against the porcelain.

mid-fuck, leon’s drunken mind realized something—

he needed to fucking piss.

he hasn’t realized it before, but now, his lower belly was aching, his full bladder making sure it’s known.

he tried to ignore it, he just wanted to cum, honestly— but as he continued to slip his cock in and out of your cunt, the more his bladder ached. the organ crying out at him, all that whiskey from earlier was now aching to come out.. how many drinks did he have before? he doesn’t even remember.

the pressure in his belly was increasing, he could feel his bladder tossle as he moved, if he pressed on his lower belly right now— right above his pubic bone— it would probably be hard. it was like a balloon, jesus.

letting out a small hiss, leon muttered an “oh, fuck,” moving his hand from your mouth back to your hip, gripping the fat of your hip tightly. his brow furrowing and jaw clenching as he shut his eyes.

he could pull out, sure, but he was already do fucking close— “..what happened?” you babbled after hearing the mutter coming from the older man after his hips stilled.

leon glanced over at your face through the mirror, you looked fucked out and faced, face of a fucking pornstar.

“i gotta take a piss.” he mumbled, his hips stilling, but his cock still nuzzled inside you. “huh?” you mumbled, peeking your head up to meet his gaze through the mirror. “i have to piss.” he repeated, his face was flushed, was it because was embarrassed? because he was in the middle of fucking? or because he was drunk? he didn’t know.

your mind wasn’t going— too stupid and fucked out to even think straight.

“then go pee—“ you mumbled, assuming he needed to pull out and take a piss before coming back.

leon stared down at your cunt, feeling your gummy walls squeeze him real nice, “how about i piss inside you?” he breathed, finding his words humorous, this seemed to bring you back to reality as your head perked up. “w-what?!” you squealed, “ew! don’t do that!” you argued, pee was gross already! and inside you? that’s worse!

leon let out an amused breath, “it’s just pee, sweetheart, why the fuzz?” he mumbled, sucking in a breath and feeling his bladder squeeze, making him shudder.

he already made up his mind.

leaning over you, leon pressed his body weight on your back, keeping you sandwiched over the sink. “everyone pees, don’t get all shy on me now.” he mumbled, pressing a kiss on your shoulder as you whimpered, your cunt squeezing him nicely. “no.. it’s so icky..” you mumbled, letting out a small breath.

“then why are you squeezing me so tight?” his lips pressed against your skin, one of his hands slipping under your body and moving to press against your own lower belly, right above your pubic bone, he kept a firm pressure against your tummy.

“why lie to me?” he mused, “you’re practically choking my dick, if anything it’s like you want me to piss inside you.” he laughed, the alcohol in his system was staining his conscience in his moment. if he was sober, he wouldn’t have even thought about taking a piss inside of someone, but he wasn’t sober, and alcohol makes you do things you normally wouldn’t. so here he was.

you shook your head slightly, but your cunt stayed tight, fluttering around him, were you really getting turned on by the idea of this man pissing inside you? what happened to you? what would your best friends say if they found out you were letting an older guy fuck you in a gross bathroom and finding it hot he wants to piss inside you?

leon shuddered, okay— wait, it was getting harder to hold it in. becoming borderline painful. sucking in a breath, he shut his eyes, pressing his nose against your skin, he took in a deep breath— taking in the smell of your sickly sweet strawberry perfume, “i’m gonna piss.” he grunted out, a final warning for simple generosity.

he might be a creep for fucking a dumb girl in a bar bathroom, but he wasn’t fucking evil.

at least that’s what he tells himself.

keeping his body pressed against your own, his belly pressing against your curved back, keeping you trapped against the porcelain.

letting out a shaky breath, leon let himself go, a type of bliss he hadn’t felt in a while enveloped him as the pressure in his bladder released.

your eyes widened at the feeling, it was so weird! it was an icky full feeling, you could feel it slip out of you, staining your pretty pussy, thighs, panties, and floor. you winced, your eyes shutting, a small frown on your lips as you imagined who was going to clean this mess up. leon’s stream was long and hot, your shoulders were tense, feeling your pussy get filled with his warm piss— ew!

“s’gross..” you gasped, squirming.

“shh,” leon mumbled, keeping his hand firm against your lower tummy.

once he finished, leon let out a deep moan, pissing with a hard-on was fucking hard! but finally, his bladder didn’t feel like it was going to explode, he pressed his face against your shoulder, his body shivering as he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you. he let out a panting breath, his hips resting flush against your ass, you let out a small breath, with his body pressing against you and forcing you against the sink it was making it hard to breathe.

“i can’t breathe—“ you gasped, clawing at the sink.

a small grunt left leon’s lips as he heard you, “shit, sorry.” he mumbled, pulling his body away from yours. moving your head up, you arched your back and took in a deep breath, feeling your pussy squelch, you swear there’s still some piss clogged up inside your cunt.

your face felt hot, you were about to ask what he was planning to do now, but he beat you to it, moving his hips tentatively, feeling your cunt squeeze and squelch. his hands moved to your hips, squeezing your ass, his dull nails digging into your skin as his thrusts picked up the speed— finding the same sloppy pace from before.

your brain was fuzzy, your head tilting to the side as a high pitched moan left her lips.

leon’s cock rubbed against your gummy walls, rubbing against the spongy little spot right by your tummy that had you gasping. you bit your bottom lip and then whined, you had to keep quiet, remember?

his balls kept slapping against your clit, kissing that bundle of nerves whenever his hips pressed against your ass. leon groaned— another sensation filling his lower belly, blossoming like a pretty flower as his balls swelled up. shutting his eyes, his pace started to get erratic, fucking into you like you were some sex doll, mumbling curses, he leaned his head back, his lips parting as he panted.

squealing as he bullied your cunt, you whimpered, your words getting caught in your throat. you couldn’t think, you could barely even breathe, your pussy hugging his cock.

“are you on the pill?” leon asked through gritted teeth as he fucked you— you couldn’t even process what he said, so you only moaned pathetically, “sweetheart,” he said, a little louder to bring you out of your brain fog, his hand moving to rest against the back of your head, “w—wha?” you babbled, “are you on the pill?” he repeated against, tugging at your hair, you whimpered and shook your head, birth control gave you ache! you quit it immediately!

letting out a small groan, leon nodded, mumbling a small, “okay.” before he let go of your hair.

your head fell downwards as his thrusts stayed rhythmless and sloppy, his balls felt like they were going to explode, but he didn’t want to pull out, fuck.

“cumming—“ he gasped, his cock twitching eagerly before his cum spurted out of his tip. moaning, he gave you a final thrust, nuzzling his cock inside your pretty pussy before his cum came out in small drools, filling you up nicely.

your lips quivered as your walls pulsed around his cock, leon stayed still for a few moments, enjoying the last bits of his orgasm before he pulled out of your pussy— watching as his cum leaked out of your cunt before he shuddered. he stepped back, giving the puddle of piss on the floor a glace as he scowled— post nut clarity hitting him.

oops.

he pulled his jeans back up and shoved his cock back inside his pants before letting out a small breath.

whining, you moved your hand to your pussy, nimble fingers finding your clit as you rubbed it, “m’leon..” you mumbled, sticking your ass up as your back arched. leon looked back at you, “mhm?” he hummed, “help me.” you whined, still toying with your clit.

oh yeah, you haven’t cum yet.

he typically wasn’t the type to stick around after a hookup, the magic dies after cumming, but he did piss inside you, the least he could do was get you off.

“yeah, yeah, gimme a sec.” he mumbled as he zipped his pants up and fumbled with his belt before he stepped closer.

he reached out, pulling you away from the sink, “c’mere,” he said as you finally got to stand up straight before he stumbled back and plopped down onto the toilet, sitting you on his lap before he spread your legs. he pulled you flush again his body, resting his head on your shoulder as his hands slipped down your tummy before finding your puffy clit.

once his fingertips pressed against the nub, you shuddered, biting your bottom lip while you grasped his other hand as it was wrapped around your waist.

leon was quiet as he rubbed your clit, feeling your squirm and twitch in his arms.

whimpering, your eyebrows furrowed upward as your head leaned back, your orgasm wasn’t too far at least, after a few minutes of moans and gasps, your body tensed. your pussy felt hot, full, and soppy, “leon,” you gasped, wishing his fingers worked faster!

he let out a small hum in reply, not really bothering to put effort — he was too drunk for that.

as the tight coil in your lower belly tightened and tightened, a sharp gasp left your lips as it snapped, your hips shuddered as you came.

your thighs clamped together, trapping leon’s hand between your plush thighs as you rode out your orgasm. your grip on his arm was still tight, your manicured nails digging into his leather jacket while you rolled your hips against his arm, practically humping his hand as you savored the friction against your cunt.

“there you go,” leon cooed, pressing a small kiss on the side of your neck before he fished out his hand from between your thighs, watching his fingers glisten from your slick.

your legs trembled as you took in a deep breath, leon pushed you up, making you stand. he fixed your skirt and glanced down at your piss-stained panties, “uh,” he began, “you can throw those away.” he said, feeling guilty for ruining such a cute pair. you frowned, “but they’re my favorite..” you whined, they were so cute! and sure, you could take them home and wash them, but you didn’t want to parade around town with pissy panties, getting pissed in was enough for tonight.

sighing heavily, leon scratched his chin, feeling his stubble scratch his skin before he dug into his jacket pocket and dug out his wallet, “here,” he said as he finished out some cash, “get yourself a new pair, sweetheart.” he said, see he wasn’t so bad. “get yourself a plan b while you’re at it.” he said, handing you the cash.

blinking dumbly at him, you took the money, “huh?”

leon stared back at you, god. fucking idiot.

“get yourself a new pair of those cute panties, yeah?” he began, you nodded, “and get a plan b too.” he repeated. the clueless look on your face was both making him want to bash his head against a wall while also wanting to shove his cock in your mouth. “do you wanna get pregnant?” he asked, his tone having a hint of frustration in it.

you shook your head, “exactly.” he sighed.

“a plan b will help you not do that.” he explained, finally, a look of realization hit your fucked out face, “ohhh.” you said softly as you fisted the cash.

“well—“ what the fuck does he say now? ‘thanks for letting me fuck you!’ no! that’s sounded stupid, fuck.

letting out an exhale, he took your arm and nudged you forward. “come on,” he said before he guided you out of the bathroom, his steps were sped up since he didn’t want to be seen leaving the bathroom with a fucked out girl.

once outside, leon noticed you were still following him like a lost puppy.

“what are you doing?” he asked, did you not have better things to do? you were practically attached to his hip, “what?” you asked as you blinked slowly, “why are you following me?” he asked, a bit perturbed by your clinginess.

you paused, “i don’t know.. i wanna go with you.”

leon chewed on the inside of his cheek. he should’ve known you would’ve wanted to stick around— he had that thought before, but he didn’t think you would actually want to stay at his side.

moving to rub his forehead, leon let out a breath.

c’mon, don’t pull on his heart strings like that. he couldn’t just leave you on the side of the road after a fuck like that. besides, you stared at him with those doe eyes of yours, you really looked like a lost puppy.

“fine, okay, c’mon.” he sighed as he lead you to his motorcycle.

what the fuck did he get himself into?

TAGS! @nilpill @rigorwhoring @dollivication @gor3-hound @v0lturiaq @withonly-sweetheart @pupsmoke @flutterylust @angelstargel @ghosty-the-doll @mydarlingclaudia @lolachannel @t1nyb0nes @mj_el2709 @kerredgraveblog @tr3nzit444s @lilbunnyelle @cigarett3wif3

#U・x・U | SIRENHUB!#tw.piss #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #damnation leon #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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c0llisiion · 7 months ago

Text

— dilf!bangchan

★ breeding,pregnancy,unprotected sex ; W/C: 628

This is strictly fiction. Any scenario or situation should not be taken seriously. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable.

sex with dilf!chan would be so heavenly. His pudgy fingers rubbing slow circles on your clothed pussy, preparing you for taking his fat, girthy cock. His hand under your body, massaging your tender tits and tongue, worked diligently on your shoulders and neck as you lay on your stomach, squirming and whimpering at his touches.

“Shhh… You gotta keep quiet, baby… don’t wanna wake up the brats, do we?” You tightly bit your lip and shook your head, trying to contain the whines. He smiled against your neck and placed a small hickey on the same spot as a reward for your obedience. He knew you would break at some point, but he didn’t really have to worry much since his kids were heavy sleepers (like him). Your slick coated your panties and it was sticking to his fingers. He hummed and chuckled at how wet you were. “So wet and warm… You want me to fuck you braindead, don’t you?” You squirmed and nodded, wanting his cock in you as soon as possible. “Beg for it doll… Tell me how much you need my cock…” You let out a muffled whine before speaking up. “Need your cock sb chan…. I want you to fill me up… i want to be full of your cum… full of your babies…” Chan shifted his position as you spoke, straddling your thighs. His hands run up and down your spine before gently lifting your hips. You arched your back immediately and waited for him to enter you. He chuckled darkly at the sight before pulling your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening wet pussy. You were so ready for him. “Impatient are we today?” You whined in response. “It’s okay baby i got you…” he leaned forward and kissed your temple. “Just keep quiet for me… or else you’re gonna have big consequences…” he said sternly. You nodded and bit down on the soft pillow to muffle your moans.

You shivered as you felt a glob of his spit on your hole. His large tip slapped against your wet core, spreading his spit on your lips. He rubbed his cock up and down on your slit, teasing you. You whined and reached from behind to maneuver his cock into your hole. Chan chuckled and slapped your hand away before shoving his cock in your sopping wet pussy, making you gasp and moan at the sudden action. Your eyes rolled back, and you bit down on the pillow harder as he wasted no time in moving. His cock slipped in and out of your pussy. Your walls clenched around his hard length. Chan groaned as he felt your warmth around him. He absolutely loved the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his thick dick. His pace was slow, but the thrusts were harsh. He leaned down and pulled your body close to his, whispering dirty nothings into your ear. “God you feel so good… so warm.. so tight…” “this pussy is just for me right? Tight little pussy belongs to me?” You nod incoherently at his words. “Look at you all dumb on my cock… want me to fill you up don't you? Don’t worry baby… i will fill you up real good… make you my pregnant mama…” he groaned and thrusted in harder. The idea of you being pregnant with his child was driving him crazy. “Gonna have you swollen and full of my kids… yeah? Would you like that?” You nodded and pulled him closer, moaning into the pillow like a bitch in heat. Chan grunted and moaned in your ears as he continued drilling your pussy. Sending you to cloud nine. You felt your orgasm approach, but then- “daddy…? Are you in there…?”

A/N: thank yew for reading!!! I decided to write a chan fic after what i saw at the dominate tour in seoul (i was there.) and i needed to write something to quench that urge 😞😞😞 anyways i hope you liked it!!!

Also lmk if yall are fw the new look or should i go back to the old one? Please lmk!!

Masterlistttt!

#౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ yun’s silly fics #straykids smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x y/n #bang chan smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids #bang chan x you #bang chan x reader #chan x female reader #chan smut #bang chan #christopher bang

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delusionalwh6re · 2 months ago

Note

IVE BEEN WAITINGG FOR SIWAN SMUT 🥳🥳 what about sub myunggi?? i have yet to see anyone talk about this i feel like im going crazy

OUUU I SEE THE VISION AND I FW IT!!! 😍😍 i hope you like this bby <3 so sorry it wasn’t sooner 😞 (i hope this juicyness makes up for it)

࿐࿔ ⋆ ｡˚ if only you were a good boy

࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ lee myung-gi x fem!reader

summary: myung-gi finally lets you take control and you have the time of your life with him

warnings: 🔞smut, male receiving!oral, riding, unprotected p in v, cursing, overstimulation, sexy sub!myung-gi, and dirty talk

authore’s note: sub myung-gi is so yummyyyy… and i’m having sm fun with these lil requests 😭 i have a couple more to write after this one! SEND MORE GUYS

this took longer than i wanted.. ended up being busy 😒😒

The room was hot and heavy. Almost pornagraphic to anyone who walked past. There was moans, grunts, whimpers and cries… but they weren’t coming from you.

“Yesss, just like that baby” Myung-gi threw his head back as you took his dick down your throat.

A hum left your mouth in satisfaction once his mushroom like tip hit the back of your throat. Groans left his mouth as you extracted your throat to give him the best pleasure — were you trying to kill him?

“Don’t stop” his eyes squeezed shut as he gripped onto the cushions beside you.

You laughed on the inside as the man above you fought for his life. He wouldn’t even be in this situation if it’s wasn’t for his mouth.

You got off of him with a loud ‘pop’. Slurping him all the way on your way up just to give a feel — before essentially getting away from him.

He was left completely dumbfounded as he looked down at you with tears in his eyes. This was the fifth time you had done this. Sucking him off just to bring him to the very edge and not even have the courtesy to let him cum.

“Because you haven’t been good” you mocked with a pout before grabbing his overstimulated cock — giving him slow short strokes.

“I-I’m sorry beautiful, I’ll be good. I’ll be good for you okay?” he whimpered while nodding his head in agreement with him.

But you weren’t buying shit that left his mouth.

“Maybe” you looked down at his leaking tip with a non sympathetic face.

He stared at you with pure love as if you were a physically sent angel that was given straight to him. Although you were torturing him.

“So…” you started, flicking your wrist with each stroke

His hips stuttered as he chased after your hand — trying to consume as much pleasure as you would let him. Suddenly, you stood up. His attempts at getting off the edge failing.

You looked down at him with a flat expression as thoughts flooded through your mind. This wasn’t new for you. Myung-gi taking control wasn’t really common — you usually dominated you, not that he minded. So you wanted to take full advantage.

“Suck” you demanded putting two of your fingers in front of his face. An expression on it that you could easily read, he was thrilled with your actions.

While making eye contact, he slowly brought his mouth to the tip of your fingers — licking them before placing gentle kisses against each one, not wanting to let you go.

You smiled at him before bringing the fingers he just kissed to the band of your underwear. Slowly, while still standing in front of him, you went to go touch yourself.

A gasp escaped his mouth at your actions, completely caught off guard with how you’ve been acting tonight. But would be a liar if he said he wasn’t enjoying it.

He gulped as you started to twirl your fingers around while lowly chatting his name “You can’t do that”

You noticed him shifting as he quickly got hard again. A look of uncomfort and greediness written all over his face. You stopped and walked towards him slowly.

“And why can’t I?” you tilted your head looking down at him — fluffy hair a mess all over his face, plump lips glistening with spit, abs flexing while he tensed… he was so damn gorgeous.

“B-because” he struggled to get the words out but you cut him off “Let me tell you something, you don’t own me”

You suddenly sat on his lap before getting comfortable and hovering over him “I can do whatever I want”

You whispered in his ear, tracing you finger across the back of his neck which sent him chills. Suddenly, you took his throbbing dick into your hand and slid onto it in one swift motion.

The two of you moaned in unison before catching each other’s eye. You needed a little time to adjust. After a couple seconds of catching your breath and getting comfortable, you started to form a rhythm with your hips.

A choked out moan left Myung-gi’s throat. The feeling in his stomach rising up again as you rode him. He was so in love with the feeling and really grasped it in.

You began bouncing up and down on him in smooth motions. Your knees were propped beside his quivering thighs, steadying you with dominance.

“Shiit” Myung-gi groaned whenever you slammed back onto him with force. You pelvis’s smacking against each other with intensity as both of began meeting each other half way.

“You spat all that hot shit earlier” you whispered in his ear, causing him to whimper in yours

“I’m sorry” he let out throwing his head back. His hips twitching from the overstimulation you were torturing him with

“No need to be sorry baby, but I’m not letting up until I’M ready” you mocked him with a smirk

He moaned gripping your ass as you picked up your pace again. Slamming up and down on him like you had somewhere to be.

“This dick is so good, all mine” you put your arms over his shoulders to steady yourself

“Yes, yes my love, all yours” he bit his lip. His eyes slightly rolling back signaling he was almost there

You loved having control over Myung-gi like this. So many would assume he dominated you. Well to be fair he did in an emotional way— but nights like this you made him your bitch.

And he loved it.

“You gonna cum?” you squealed once his tip smacked against your cervix — yeah he was that deep.

And Myung-gi being the natural asshole that he was decided to tease you.

“Looks like you are too” he took notice of your face. All bunched up and bothered. It was almost like you were torturing him while also torturing yourself. Not letting yourself cum until he did

“You can let go for me baby” he whispered rubbing his thumb along your backside

“Shut up, let me do this” you clenched around him on purpose to shut him up which worked

“Mhm” he hummed with his head thrown back again not really caring for your words — he just didn’t want you to stop.

Your back was arched — he was so deep inside of you. Making sure not to back down from him so you took all his inches without hesitation.

Your hips began faltering as the thrusts lost its rhythm — both of you approaching an orgasm. “Oh my” you looked down to see your privates connected with slick.

“I love you” Myung-gi whimpered looking up at you with tears in his eyes

“Yeah yeah, and I hate you” you bounced fast in attempt to finally come undone. Rocking your hips back and forth with purpose — you knew it only felt good for you but you didn’t care.

“Just like that, c’mon” he helped you rock your hips back and forth — sneaking his finger between the two of you to rub your clit.

“Oh!” a cry left your mouth as you threw your head back in pleasure. Your bouncing slowly coming to an end as your orgasm raced to you faster.

Your vision blurred as you saw stars — creaming all over him with a gasp. You didn’t even think about if he finished or not. Heavy breaths leaving you as your senses slowly started coming back.

Myung-gi however took his time to try to get his rocks off with lame attempts at thrusting up into you. “Baby” he looked up at you with desperate eyes signaling what he wanted.

You bit your lip at him seductively positioning yourself as if you were gonna let him use you — until you sat up in one fast motion. Walking to pick up your undergarments and clothes that were scattered messily on the floor.

He was completely speechless and was about to approach you until you suddenly stood in front of him. You looked down at him as he made pathetic pleas.

“Please baby, I’ll be good for you” , “I’ll fuck you however you want” “I can do whatever you want me to”

Tears streamed down his face in frustration — were you seriously gonna do him like that?

You opened your mouth and he immediately shut up, waiting for what you had to say. You leaned down to his ear slowly. Placing kisses along his ear and jaw. His body tensed with anticipation until you said

“If only you were a good boy”

And with that, you got your shit and dipped. Leaving him high and dry with no traces of you.

CITY GURLS UP!! fuck he thought 😂😂😂

this was neastyy… i gotta write another one

#myung gi #lee myung gi #squid game fic #squid game smut #player 333 #myung gi x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x reader #squid game x you #yim siwan

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lemonsdietcoke · 2 months ago

Text

A Pearl - Player!230

Dark!Choi Su-bong/Thanos x Fem!Reader

Warnings: emotional and physical abuse, NONCON/DUBCON,substance abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, toxic relationships, childhood trauma

Summary: “I fell in love with a war, and nobody told me it ended.” You thought love was supposed to hurt. That it meant holding on when everything burned. Inspired by ‘A Pearl’-Mitski

MINORS DNI

A/n: this story is super heavy so just be prepared going into this. This is probably the darkest thing I’ve written. Also the bold means it’s a flashback. Lmk if yall fw. I love feedback. Lmk what you think!!

……………..

The house is too quiet.

Not the quiet that lulls you to sleep, the kind that hums with the soft rhythm of peace. No. This quiet is suffocating. It weighs down on your chest, fills your throat until you can’t swallow properly, and presses against your ears until every little sound feels magnified. The ticking of the clock is too loud. The hum of the refrigerator rattles through the walls like a warning. And the silence, that awful silence, screams louder than anything else.

You sit on the edge of the bed, the springs groaning under your weight as though the house itself is protesting your stillness. Your fingers move without thinking, the chain of your necklace twisted between them. You tug it forward, letting the locket fall into your palm. The cool metal feels heavier tonight, like it knows something you don’t. You trace the shape of the rose etched into the surface—a small, intricate carving, its petals curling toward the center where the gold is worn smooth from years of touch.

When you were a child, you’d thought the rose was magic. Your parents had given it to you for your twelfth birthday, saving for months to afford something so fine. Your father had clasped it around your neck with careful fingers, your mother watching with teary eyes, saying it was for the little lady you were becoming. You’d carried it with you everywhere, opening the locket a dozen times a day just to see the tiny, faded photo inside—a family portrait taken before everything went wrong. The three of you, smiling despite the faded edges of your clothes, despite the peeling wallpaper behind you. Your father’s arm was wrapped tightly around your mother, and she was holding you on her lap, her hand tucked over yours. You remember the way her hair smelled like rosemary, the way your father’s laugh used to make your chest flutter.

You hadn’t worn the locket in years, not until him. Not until Su-bong had found it in your drawer, tucked away like a secret. “What’s this?” he’d asked, holding it up in the air between two fingers, his expression teasing but curious. When you’d hesitated, he’d snapped the clasp open before you could stop him, his brows raising slightly at the photo.

“Wow,” he’d said with a lopsided grin, tossing it back into your lap like it didn’t matter. “Didn’t know you were the sentimental type.”

You’d put it on that night, your chest burning with embarrassment. You’ve worn it every day since, the metal resting against your skin like armor.

Now, it feels like a lifeline. You wrap your hand around it tightly, letting the edges dig into your palm. The chain pulls against your neck, but you don’t loosen your grip. It’s the only thing keeping you grounded as your thoughts spiral. He left hours ago—another night, another excuse. He hadn’t even stopped to look at you when you asked him to stay.

“Do you really need to go? It’s already late.”

He’d barely paused to shove his shoes on, his hair falling into his face as he fumbled with the laces. His jacket had hung off one shoulder, sloppily thrown on in his hurry to leave. “Don’t start,” he’d muttered, voice low and clipped.

“I just—Su-bong, please.” Your voice had cracked, small and unsure, the way it always did when you tried to hold him back.

That was when he’d stopped. Just for a moment. He’d looked up at you then, a flash of irritation cutting through the haze in his eyes. “I won’t be long,” he’d said, his tone sharp enough to make you flinch. Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the picture frames rattle against the walls.

He hasn’t come back. You’re not sure if he will.

You glance at the clock on the nightstand. 2:47 AM. The seconds tick by, loud and relentless. You press the locket against your lips, as though the cool metal might soothe the heat rising in your throat. The ache in your chest twists tighter, suffocating and raw, and you force yourself to stand.

The bedroom is dark, lit only by the faint yellow glow of the streetlamp outside. The shadow of the blinds cuts across the walls like a cage. You make your way to the window, each step slow and deliberate. Your legs feel heavy, your bare feet brushing against the cold floor. The night outside is still, the air thick with fog. You half expect to see him stumbling down the street, his head tilted to one side, his steps uneven. But there’s nothing. Just the empty road stretching out into the dark, a void that swallows everything in its path.

Your stomach churns. You don’t even know why you bother looking for him anymore. He never answers your texts when he’s out. He never picks up his phone. He always comes back when he wants to, not a moment before, and when he does, it’s like you’re supposed to forget he ever left. “What are you so worried about?” he always says, brushing you off like you’re a child. “I’m fine. Just let it go, babe.”

He never understands why you can’t let it go.

Your fingers shake as you unlock your phone, scrolling through your empty messages. The last text you’d sent hours ago—“Let me know when you’re on your way home.”—sits unread, untouched. You’d stared at the screen for so long that your eyes had blurred, waiting for the little dots to appear. They never did.

You close the app and toss the phone onto the bed, breathing out shakily. Your chest tightens as you imagine him laughing somewhere, his hand wrapped around a bottle, surrounded by people who don’t care that he’s tearing you apart piece by piece. He’ll come home eventually, his breath hot and sour against your skin, his hands rough and insistent. You’ll let him touch you, because it’s easier than saying no. Because it hurts too much to fight him when he’s like that. Because at least when he’s touching you, you know where he is.

The thought makes your stomach turn. You press your hand to your mouth, your breath shaking against your palm. The metal of the locket digs into your skin again, grounding you, keeping you here, when all you want to do is disappear.

The house is too quiet. The clock ticks louder.

And he’s still not here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The light in the hallway buzzes faintly, flickering every so often. You’re leaning against the bathroom door, your back pressed flat against the wood, knees curled up tight to your chest. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, too fast, too loud, until it feels like your whole body is vibrating with it. You can hear him on the other side—his voice rising, slurring, vibrating with that sharp, manic edge that always makes your stomach churn.

“Open the door!” His fist collides with the wood, hard enough to make the frame rattle. “Don’t fucking ignore me!”

The sound sends a jolt through your body. Your hands grip the locket around your neck so tightly the edges press into your palm, the thin gold chain pulling taut against your skin. You don’t even notice the sting. You’re not thinking about anything except how close he sounds. How loud. How angry.

You squeeze your eyes shut, your breathing shallow, uneven. You tell yourself to be quiet—don’t make a sound, don’t move—but your body isn’t listening. Your knees are shaking so badly they knock against the door, the vibration rattling the hinges.

“I’m not gonna fucking ask again!” The next hit is harder, a sharp, jarring kick that makes the whole door shudder. You gasp before you can stop yourself, slapping a hand over your mouth, but it’s too late.

“Oh, so now you’re scared?” he sneers, his voice dropping low and venomous. You can picture the way his lips curl when he says it, that smug, mocking smile that always makes your stomach turn. “What, you think this door is gonna save you? You think I won’t fucking break it down?”

The door shudders again—another kick, harder this time, and you flinch so violently that your head knocks back against the wood. A crack splinters through the frame, faint but audible, and you can feel the panic crawling up your throat.

You press the locket tighter against your chest, the rose etched into its surface digging into your skin. You focus on the weight of it, the coldness of the gold, the soft click of the clasp when it used to open. Anything to keep your mind from spiraling too far. But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Earlier That Night~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night had started quietly, the house dimly lit as you waited for him to come home. He’d promised you that morning, “I’m staying in tonight, alright? No bullshit.” You hadn’t believed him—not really—but some part of you had wanted to. Some part of you had clung to that tiny, fragile hope like it meant something.

When the door slammed open hours later, you knew.

You’d smelled the whiskey first. It clung to him like a second skin, sharp and sour, mixing with the faint scent of cigarettes that always seemed to follow him. His steps were uneven, his hand gripping the doorframe for balance before he stumbled further inside. He didn’t look at you, didn’t say anything. He just went straight for the kitchen.

You’d stood in the doorway, your chest tightening as you watched him dig through the drawers, muttering under his breath. When he pulled out the pill bottle, your heart dropped.

“Seriously, Su-bong?” you said, your voice sharp before you could stop yourself. “You’re already drunk.”

He didn’t even look at you. He popped the cap off with a flick of his thumb, dumping two pills into his palm and swallowing them dry. “Relax,” he muttered, like you were the one being unreasonable. “I’m fine.”

Something in you snapped. You crossed the room, grabbing the bottle from his hand and slamming it onto the counter. The sound was loud, jarring, but it didn’t make him flinch. If anything, he looked bored.

“Fine?” you snapped. “You can barely fucking stand, and you think you’re fine?”

That got his attention. He turned to you, his gaze narrowing, sharp and calculating even through the haze. A slow, bitter grin spread across his face.

“Oh, so now you’re the expert, huh?” he said, his voice low and mocking. He stepped closer, the smell of alcohol making your stomach churn. “Since when do you give a shit what I do?”

The casual cruelty of it made your throat tighten, your anger dissolving into something smaller, something more fragile. You tried again, softer this time.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, your voice quiet, careful. “Just… stay home tonight. Please.”

For a second, you thought he might listen. His gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw tightening. He looked tired. Worn out. You could almost see the man you used to know beneath the haze.

But then he shook his head, huffing out a bitter laugh. “I can’t stay here all night listening to your shit.”

You stepped in front of the door before you could stop yourself, your chest tight with something between panic and determination.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said, your hands trembling as you tried to sound steady.

His head snapped up, his gaze locking on yours. His face twisted into something colder, sharper, and for the first time that night, you felt the first flicker of fear.

“Move,” he said, his voice low and clipped.

You shook your head. “No. I’m serious, Su-bong—”

It happened too fast. One second he was standing there, and the next his hand was wrapped around your arm, gripping so tightly you gasped.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he snarled, dragging you to the side like you weighed nothing.

Your other hand shot out instinctively, pushing against his chest as hard as you could. He barely stumbled, but the movement seemed to snap something in him. His hand jerked, his grip tightening until you felt the sharp pinch of his nails digging into your skin.

“You fucking bitch,” he spat, and that’s when you ran.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your breath is coming too fast, too shallow, making your head spin. The pounding on the door has stopped, but you don’t feel any relief. Not yet.

“You’re so fucking pathetic,” he says, his voice quieter now but no less venomous. “Hiding in there like a fucking child. You think I need this shit? You think anyone else would put up with you?”

The words hit harder than his fists ever could. Your hands tighten around the locket until the rose leaves an imprint in your palm, the edges sharp and unforgiving.

You don’t respond. You don’t move. You just sit there, shaking, waiting for him to leave.

Eventually, he does. The front door slams behind him, and the silence that follows is heavier than the noise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The clock’s ticking feels slower now, like it’s dragging time with it. The minutes stretch and warp until they don’t feel like minutes anymore. Just this endless, dragging ache that lives in the pit of your stomach and refuses to leave.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table now, your phone lying in front of you, facedown like it’s mocking you. There’s a mug of tea in your hands, untouched. It’s lukewarm now, the steam long gone, but you don’t put it down. You hold it tightly, your fingers wrapped around the ceramic, because at least it’s something to hold. At least it gives your hands something to do besides tremble.

The house is dark except for the faint glow of the light over the stove. It casts long shadows across the counters, over the piles of unopened mail and empty bottles that have been gathering there for weeks. You keep meaning to clean, but every time you think about it, your body refuses to move. It’s hard enough to get out of bed most days, let alone scrub the smell of him out of the walls.

You glance at your phone again, your chest tightening as though it might vibrate, might light up with his name. It doesn’t. It never does, not when you’re waiting like this. You should be used to it by now, but the sting of it never dulls.

The worst part is, you don’t know if you want him to come home.

You close your eyes, letting your head drop forward, the heel of your hand pressing against the locket that hangs around your neck. The edges of the rose dig into your skin, sharp enough to leave marks. It grounds you, keeps your thoughts from spinning too far out of control.

But the memories are harder to stop. They come rushing in like they always do, filling the silence with the sound of his voice, his laugh, the way he used to look at you like you were something soft, something beautiful, something breakable. He doesn’t look at you like that anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can still see the first time he smiled at you—really smiled, that kind of stupid grin that made your chest feel too full. You’d been sitting across from him at some shitty little diner, your fork pushing around a plate of cold fries while he talked about some dream he’d had, something ridiculous about a casino and a dog wearing sunglasses. It wasn’t even funny, but the way he told it made you laugh so hard your face hurt. You’d leaned forward, your elbows on the table, and he’d just stopped. Mid-sentence, he’d stopped, like he couldn’t believe you were there.

“You’re cute,” he’d said, simple and easy, like it wasn’t the kind of thing that would stick with you for years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You open your eyes and the memory dissolves, slipping away into the dark like it never happened. You feel stupid for thinking about it, for still holding onto those pieces of him like they mean something. Like they haven’t been buried under all the yelling and the slammed doors and the nights you spent wondering if he’d ever come home.

You set the mug down on the table, your hands shaking slightly as you fold them in your lap. The quiet feels heavier now, pressing down on your chest until it’s hard to breathe.

What if he doesn’t come back this time? The thought creeps in before you can stop it, wrapping itself around your throat like a noose. It’s not the first time you’ve wondered, but it’s the first time it’s felt real. Like a possibility instead of a threat.

You try to tell yourself that you’d be fine if he didn’t. You’d figure it out. You’d get up tomorrow, make coffee, go to work, clean the house, move on. But the thought of it—of him not being here, of him leaving without even a word—makes your chest feel like it’s caving in. You clutch the necklace tighter, the chain pulling taut against the back of your neck.

He always comes back. He always does.

But what if this time is different?

The clock ticks louder. The house is too quiet.

And you’re still waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The door slams hard enough to shake the walls. You feel it in your chest, a dull, rattling thud that echoes through the quiet house. Your stomach twists, the dread rising so fast it feels like a sickness. You already know how this night is going to end.

You’re still sitting at the kitchen table, the cold mug of tea in front of you. It’s been hours since he left, and you’d given up hope of him coming home sober somewhere around midnight. But now that he’s here, a part of you wishes he’d stayed gone.

You hear his footsteps before you see him, the uneven shuffle of his boots dragging against the floor. When he stumbles into view, it’s like you’ve summoned him with your thoughts. His hair is messy, sticking to his forehead with sweat, and his jacket is hanging off one shoulder. He looks at you, his eyes glassy, his mouth curling into a sloppy grin that makes your chest ache.

“There you are,” he says, his voice low and hoarse. He sounds almost affectionate, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it, the kind that makes your throat tighten.

You don’t say anything. You can’t. Your hands are clenched in your lap, your nails digging into your palms. You’re trying to stay calm, trying to keep your breathing even, but your heart is already pounding.

He doesn’t seem to notice. He walks toward you, his movements slow and unsteady, and leans against the table with one hand. The other hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“Why are you sitting here all alone?” he murmurs, his tone soft now, almost sweet. The contrast makes you want to scream.

You pull back slightly, your jaw tightening. “Where were you?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You hate how small you sound, but it’s all you can manage.

His grin falters, and for a second, something colder flickers across his face. “Don’t start,” he mutters, standing up straight. “I don’t want to hear it right now.”

“I’ve been waiting for hours, Su-bong.” You can hear the edge creeping into your voice now, but you can’t stop it. The anger is bubbling up, sharp and bitter, mixing with the fear in your chest. “You said you’d be home—”

“I said, don’t start,” he snaps, cutting you off. His voice is louder now, the sharpness in it making you flinch. He takes a step closer, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, heavy and sour. “What’s your problem, huh? Why do you always have to make a big fucking deal out of everything?”

Your throat tightens, the words you want to say choking on the way up. You look away, your gaze dropping to the table. You can’t do this tonight. You can’t fight him when he’s like this.

But he doesn’t let it go.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice quieter now but no less demanding. He reaches for your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “Why are you so mad, huh? You missed me?”

You don’t answer. You don’t move. You just stare at him, your chest tight with a mix of anger and something that feels too much like fear.

His thumb brushes against your cheek, and his mouth curls into that lopsided grin again. “Come on, baby,” he murmurs, leaning down until his face is inches from yours. “Don’t be like that.”

The kiss is sudden, his lips pressing against yours hard enough to make you pull back instinctively. You turn your head, breaking the contact, but his hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you in place.

“Su-bong, stop,” you say, your voice shaking. You try to push him back, but he doesn’t budge. His grip tightens, his other hand sliding down to your waist.

“You’re so tense,” he mutters, his lips brushing against your ear. “Relax.”

You push harder this time, your hands pressing against his chest, but it only seems to annoy him. His movements become rougher, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you to your feet.

“Stop it!” you cry, your voice rising in panic. “I don’t want to—”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he snaps, his voice low and sharp. He spins you around, pressing you against the edge of the table, his body trapping yours in place.

Your heart is pounding now, the fear clawing its way up your throat. You keep trying to push him away, but he’s stronger, and he’s not listening.

The locket around your neck catches on the edge of the table, the chain pulling tight against your skin. Your hand shoots up instinctively, clutching it, your fingers trembling as you press it against your chest.

“Su-bong, please,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

He doesn’t answer. His hands are on your hips now, his grip bruising as he pulls you closer. The tears sting at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t let them fall. You don’t move. You don’t fight. You just stare at the wall, your breathing shallow, your fingers clutching the locket like it’s the only thing holding you together.

You can hear him murmuring something under his breath—something about how good you feel, how much he missed you—but the words blur together, lost in the haze of your thoughts. You’re not here anymore. You’re somewhere else. Somewhere quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house is still. The only sound is his breathing, slow and heavy as he lies beside you, one arm draped carelessly over your waist. You don’t move. You don’t even blink.

The locket is still in your hand, the imprint of the rose etched into your palm. You stare at the ceiling, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and try to ignore the ache between your legs.

The tears come later, after he’s asleep. You press your face into the pillow, your shoulders shaking as you cry silently into the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car engine rumbles beneath you, a low, uneven growl that vibrates through the seat and into your chest. Su-bong’s hand is loose on the wheel, his other arm resting on the open window as the wind whips through the car. He’s not driving fast, but the way he keeps drifting too close to the curb, jerking the wheel at the last second, makes your stomach twist.

You press your hand against your thigh, trying to keep it from shaking, and force your gaze to stay on the road. You don’t want to look at him. You don’t want to see the glassy, unfocused look in his eyes or the faint grin that keeps twitching at the corner of his mouth. He hasn’t said much since you left the bar—just a few muttered curses under his breath, his jaw tight and his grip on the wheel tightening every time he takes a turn too sharply.

You want to tell him to stop. To pull over. To let you drive. But the words stick in your throat, thick and heavy, like a stone weighing you down. You know how that conversation will end. He’ll snap at you, tell you to relax, accuse you of trying to control him. And you’re too tired to argue. Too tired to do anything except sit there and hope the car doesn’t drift too far into the wrong lane.

The silence feels heavier than the rumble of the engine.

“You embarrassed me,” he mutters suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet like a crack of thunder.

You flinch, your hands tightening in your lap. “I wasn’t trying to,” you say quietly, your gaze still fixed on the road ahead.

He snorts, shaking his head. “Really? Because, You had to make a fucking scene, didn’t you? In front of everyone.”

The heat rises in your chest, sharp and stifling, but you press it down. You’ve gotten good at that—at swallowing your anger, letting it fester somewhere deep inside where it can’t escape. “I wasn’t trying to make a scene,” you say again, your voice quieter this time. “I just… I didn’t want you to drink anymore.”

“Why do you care?” he snaps, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His grin is gone now, replaced by that sharp, mocking sneer that makes your stomach churn. “What’s it to you?”

You don’t answer. You don’t trust yourself to.

The car jerks suddenly as he swerves to avoid a parked car, and your heart leaps into your throat. He laughs—a short, bitter sound that makes your skin crawl—and slams his palm against the steering wheel. “Relax,” he mutters, his voice dripping with irritation. “Jesus, you’re so fucking tense all the time. It’s not that serious.”

It feels serious. Everything about this feels serious—the car, the road, the weight of his anger pressing down on you like a hand around your throat.

You don’t say anything else for the rest of the drive. You just stare out the window, watching the dark streets blur together, and press your hand against the locket around your neck, the edges of the rose digging into your skin.

~~~~~~~~~

The house looks worse than the last time you saw it, though you’re not sure how that’s even possible. It’s his friend’s place. The place they all went to drink themselves into oblivion, and share drugs.

The porch sags under its own weight, the roof dotted with holes that make it look like it’s caving in. The windows are either boarded up or covered with newspaper, and the light above the door flickers weakly, casting the entire place in a sickly yellow glow.

Su-bong doesn’t wait for you to follow. He slams the car door shut behind him and walks up the steps, his boots heavy against the rotting wood. You hesitate for a moment, your hand still resting on the car door, and try to swallow the lump in your throat. You don’t want to go in there. You don’t want to see his friends, to feel their eyes on you, to sit in that awful, stifling air and pretend you’re okay.

But you don’t have a choice. Not really.

The inside of the house smells worse than you remember—like sweat, beer, and something sharp and chemical that makes your nose burn. The walls are yellowed with smoke, the carpet littered with cigarette butts and broken glass. There’s a coffee table in the middle of the room, its surface covered in ashtrays, empty pill bottles, and the faint glitter of crushed powder.

Su-bong’s friends are sprawled across the couches and chairs, their laughter filling the room like static. One of them glances up as you walk in, his bloodshot eyes narrowing slightly. He doesn’t say anything. Neither do you.

Su-bong shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto the back of a chair, and grabs a beer off the table without a word.

“You’re late,” one of the guys Nam-gyu mutters, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He’d been friends with Su-bong for a long time. Before you even met him.

“Yeah, well,” Su-bong mutters, twisting the cap off the bottle with his teeth. “Got caught up.”

Nam-gyu glances at you, his gaze lingering a little too long, and something tightens in your chest. Su-bong notices, too. He sets the beer down and shoots the guy a look, his voice sharp as he says, “What the fuck are you staring at?”

Nam-gyu laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender. His sweaty hair falling around his face, framing it.“Nothing, man. Relax.”

Su-bong doesn’t say anything else. He just takes another sip of his beer, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before turning back to the table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hallway feels narrower than it should. The light from the main room barely reaches back here, leaving everything steeped in shadow, the air growing thicker and harder to breathe the farther you go. You can hear the faint hum of the television from the living room, the muffled sound of laughter and the clinking of bottles. The floor beneath you creaks with every step, the uneven boards sticky against your shoes.

The door to the back room is half-open, the dim yellow light spilling into the hallway. Su-bong pulls you inside without a word, his grip firm around your wrist. The door shuts behind you with a soft thud, sealing the two of you into the suffocating darkness.

Your first instinct is to stop breathing. The smell hits you like a wall—stale sweat, mildew, and the sour, chemical tang of old beer. There’s a mattress on the floor, sagging in the middle, its surface stained with patches of something dark and unrecognizable. The fabric is dotted with cigarette burns, the edges curling up like it’s been sitting here for years.

A single roach skitters across the corner of the mattress, vanishing into a crack in the wall before you can even process what you’ve seen.

Your stomach churns, your body screaming at you to leave, leave, leave, but Su-bong is already pulling you toward the mattress, his hands clumsy and insistent as they find your waist.

“Su-bong,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Stop.”

He doesn’t listen.

His breath is hot and sour against your neck, reeking of alcohol and something sharp and metallic. His hands slide up your sides, rough and impatient, tugging at the fabric of your shirt. You push against him weakly, your palms flat against his chest, but he’s too strong, too stubborn, and you’re too tired to fight.

“Relax,” he mutters, his voice low and hoarse. His fingers grip your shirt harder, pulling it up over your head before you can stop him. “You’re always so fucking tense.”

The room feels smaller now, the walls pressing in on you as the smell of sweat and mildew grows thicker, coating the back of your throat. You tilt your head away from him, your gaze darting to the ceiling, to the cracks in the plaster and the faint shimmer of cobwebs in the corner.

The locket presses against your chest, its familiar weight grounding you in a way that feels almost cruel. Your fingers brush against it, trembling as you press it harder into your skin.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper, barely audible.

He pauses for a second, his head tilting slightly, and you think—for just a moment—that he might stop. That he might actually hear you. But then he sighs, annoyed, and grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from your chest.

“Don’t start,” he mutters, his grip tightening as he pushes you down onto the mattress. The fabric feels damp beneath you, sticky and rough against your skin, and you can feel something small and hard digging into your back—a piece of broken glass, maybe, or a shard of plastic.

You want to cry. You want to scream. But the lump in your throat won’t let you make a sound.

His hands are on you again, rougher this time, tugging at your waistband and pulling you closer. The mattress groans under his weight, the springs creaking loudly enough to drown out the sound of your shaky breathing.

You stop fighting. It’s always easier that way.

The smell of him overwhelms you—sweat, cigarettes, whiskey—and the sound of his voice blurs into static as your mind starts to drift. You stare at the wall, at the faint shadows moving across its surface, and try to focus on anything else.

Your fingers close around the locket again, the edges of the rose pressing into your palm. You focus on the feel of it, the coolness of the metal, the way it feels against your skin. You roll it between your fingers, clutching it tightly, and let your mind go quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room is silent except for the sound of his breathing—heavy and uneven as he collapses beside you, his arm draped carelessly over your waist. The mattress shifts under his weight, the springs creaking one last time before the quiet settles over you like a blanket.

You don’t move. You don’t speak. You just lie there, staring at the ceiling, your fingers still curled around the locket.

There’s a roach on the wall above you, its legs moving slowly as it crawls toward the corner of the room. You watch it for a moment, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, before closing your eyes.

The smell lingers—on your skin, in your hair, in the back of your throat. You know you won’t be able to wash it off, not entirely. It’ll stay with you, just like everything else.

You don’t realize you’re crying until the tears start to slip down your temples, soaking into the filthy mattress beneath you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The car ride home is silent.

Not the kind of silence that settles naturally, soft and comfortable. This silence is jagged, sharp enough to cut, stretching tight between the two of you like a rubber band about to snap. The sound of the engine hums beneath you, broken only by the occasional crunch of gravel as Su-bong drifts too close to the shoulder.

His hands grip the wheel loosely, his knuckles brushing against the cracked leather as he leans back in the seat. His head tilts slightly to the side, his eyes half-lidded and glassy, and you can smell the whiskey on him even from here.

You press your hand against the locket around your neck, your fingers curling around the metal as your chest tightens. You don’t dare look at him.

The tension in the car is suffocating, pressing against your chest like a weight. Your throat feels tight, your pulse thudding in your ears. You want to say something, anything, to break the silence—but the words stick in your throat, thick and heavy, refusing to come out.

When the house finally comes into view, you feel a flicker of relief. But it’s fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the hollow ache that’s been sitting in your chest all night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door slams behind you as Su-bong stumbles into the living room, tossing his jacket onto the couch without a second glance. You linger near the doorway, your hand still gripping the locket tightly, as though it might anchor you to something real.

The house is dark except for the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. Shadows stretch across the walls, long and jagged, and the air feels heavy, stagnant, like it’s holding its breath.

Su-bong doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even look at you. He just collapses onto the couch, his head tilting back against the cushion, his eyes closed.

For a moment, you think he might pass out.

But then he sighs—a long, low sound that seems to echo in the silence—and drags a hand down his face. His fingers rub against his temples, slow and deliberate, and his leg bounces restlessly against the floor.

“You’re mad,” he mutters, his voice slurred but steady.

You don’t respond.

He opens his eyes, tilting his head to look at you. There’s something in his gaze—something searching, something almost vulnerable—that makes your stomach twist.

“Say something,” he says, his voice quieter now.

You stare at him, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you like a physical force. Your chest aches, the words you want to say bubbling up inside you, but you swallow them down. You don’t trust yourself to speak.

His leg stops bouncing. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together as he looks at the floor.

“I know I fucked up,” he says quietly. “I know that.”

The words hang in the air, brittle and heavy, and you feel your fingers tighten around the locket.

“I shouldn’t have taken you there,” he continues, his voice breaking slightly. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done any of it.”

He looks up at you then, his eyes glassy and rimmed with exhaustion. “I don’t even know why you put up with me,” he says, his voice cracking. “I’m such a fucking mess.”

He stands up slowly, unsteady on his feet, and takes a step toward you. His hands reach for yours, warm and trembling slightly as they close around your wrists.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says, his voice low and desperate. “You’re all I have. You’re the only thing that keeps me together.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your chest tightening as you stare at him. You want to pull away, to put distance between you, but his grip is firm, almost pleading.

“I’ll do better,” he says, his words spilling out in a rush. “I’ll stop drinking, I’ll stop everything. I’ll get clean. I swear to God, I’ll do it for you.”

You close your eyes, the tears stinging at the corners as you shake your head. “You’ve said that before,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“I mean it this time,” he insists, his grip tightening slightly. His voice cracks on the last word, and you can feel the tremor in his hands. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… please don’t give up on me. Please.”

He steps closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You think anyone else is gonna love you like I do?” he asks, his tone soft but cutting. “You think anyone else is gonna put up with you?”

Your breath hitches, the words cutting deeper than they should.

“Your family doesn’t want you,” he says, his voice cracking slightly, like he’s holding back tears. “They’ve never wanted you. But me? I love you. I need you. You’re the only good thing I’ve got.”

The locket feels heavy in your hand, the edges of the rose digging into your palm. You want to scream, to push him away, to tell him to stop—but the lump in your throat won’t let you speak.

“What if you can’t?” you whisper, your voice breaking. “What if you don’t stop? What if it’s always going to be like this?”

He shakes his head, his expression tightening with something that almost looks like panic. “It won’t be,” he says quickly. “I swear, baby. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything.”

The tears slip down your cheeks, hot and relentless, and you press your free hand to your face, trying to stifle the quiet sob that escapes your lips.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice breaking. He pulls you into his arms, his grip almost crushing as he presses his face against your hair. “Just give me another chance. That’s all I need. One more chance.”

You don’t hug him back.

But you don’t pull away, either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He falls asleep hours later, curled up beside you on the bed, his breathing slow and even. You sit there in the dark, staring at the wall, the locket clutched tightly in your hand.

You want to believe him. You want to believe him so badly it hurts.

But deep down, you already know this isn’t the last time he’ll make this promise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first sign is the smell.

It hits you when you walk into the living room one evening, faint at first, like a memory trying to claw its way to the surface. You pause in the doorway, your hand tightening around the frame as you try to place it. It’s familiar. Sharp and acrid, clinging to the air like a ghost.

Cigarettes.

He’d thrown out the pack weeks ago. You’d watched him do it—watched the way his jaw tightened as he flicked the lighter one last time, muttering under his breath about how he didn’t need it, how it was “just a habit” and “no big deal.”

“I’m serious this time, baby,” he’d said, his voice almost convincing. “No more of this shit. I’m done.”

But now, the smell is here again, seeping into the walls, curling in the back of your throat like smoke.

You don’t see him at first. The room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of the TV, the sound muted to a soft hum. The curtains are drawn tight, blocking out the fading daylight, and the air feels heavier than it should.

He’s on the couch, slouched low with one leg thrown over the armrest, the other foot flat on the floor. A cigarette dangles from his fingers, the ash building up dangerously close to the filter, and there’s a bottle of something dark and half-empty on the coffee table.

Your stomach twists.

“Su-bong?”

He doesn’t look up. His eyes are fixed on the TV, the flickering images reflecting in his glassy gaze. The smoke curls up from the cigarette, disappearing into the stale air, and you can see the faint rise and fall of his chest as he exhales slowly.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

He blinks, slow and deliberate, like it takes effort to process the sound of your voice. When he finally turns to you, his lips curl into a lazy, lopsided grin that makes your chest ache.

“What’s it look like?” he mutters, holding up the cigarette like it’s some kind of joke.

You take a step closer, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “I thought you quit.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the couch with a sigh. “Yeah, well.” He takes a drag from the cigarette, the ember flaring bright in the dim room, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “Didn’t stick, I guess.”

Your chest tightens. You can feel the anger bubbling up inside you, sharp and hot, but it’s tangled with something else—something smaller, something that feels too much like disappointment.

“You said you’d stop,” you say, your voice breaking slightly.

He laughs—low and bitter—and takes another drag, the smoke curling around his lips as he exhales. “Yeah, and you said you’d stop nagging me. Guess we’re both full of shit, huh?”

The words hit harder than they should, knocking the air out of your lungs. For a moment, all you can do is stand there, staring at him, the lump in your throat growing tighter with every second that passes.

It doesn’t stop with the cigarettes.

The next day, it’s the pills. You find the bottle on the kitchen counter, the cap loose, a few of the tablets scattered across the surface like they’d been spilled in a rush.

Your heart sinks as you pick it up, the plastic cool against your palm. You stare at the label, your chest tightening as you recognize the name—one you haven’t seen in weeks, not since the last time he swore he was done.

You don’t even notice him standing behind you until his voice cuts through the silence.

“You going through my shit now?”

You spin around, the bottle clutched tightly in your hand. “I found it on the counter,” you say, your voice sharp. “You’re not even trying to hide it anymore?”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing slightly, and you can smell the faint tang of alcohol on his breath. “What’s your problem?” he mutters, snatching the bottle from your hand. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Your voice rises, trembling with anger and something closer to panic. “You promised me, Su-bong. You said you were done with this.”

He laughs again—that same bitter, careless sound that makes your chest ache—and shoves the bottle into his pocket. “Yeah, well, promises can be broken.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It all comes to a head one night when he stumbles in late, his steps uneven and his voice loud enough to wake the neighbors.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, the locket clutched tightly in your hand, when you hear the front door slam. The sound reverberates through the house, rattling the picture frames on the walls, and you feel your chest tighten as the familiar dread settles over you like a weight.

The footsteps are uneven, shuffling, and you can hear the faint clink of glass as he moves through the house. By the time he reaches the bedroom, your hands are trembling, the metal of the locket cool and sharp against your skin.

The door swings open, and he’s there, leaning heavily against the frame. His hair is a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat, and his jacket is hanging off one shoulder. There’s a bottle in his hand, nearly empty, and his grin is wide and lopsided, his eyes glassy.

“Hey, baby,” he slurs, his voice low and hoarse.

You don’t say anything. You don’t move. You just sit there, staring at him, your chest tight with a mix of anger, sadness, and something that feels too much like fear.

He stumbles into the room, dropping the bottle onto the floor with a dull thud. The smell of whiskey clings to him, heavy and sour, and when he sits down beside you, the mattress dips under his weight.

“Why’re you sitting in here all alone?” he murmurs, his voice soft now, almost affectionate. The contrast makes your stomach turn.

You pull back slightly, your jaw tightening. “Where were you?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, leaning back on his hands. “Out.”

“You were supposed to be getting clean,” you say, your voice trembling.

He laughs—soft and breathy—and shakes his head. “Clean’s overrated.”

It’s different this time, though. The relapse isn’t just about him anymore. It’s about you—how much you can take, how much you can survive before the cracks in your foundation become too wide to repair.

You sit there in the dark, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, the weight of his relapse pressing down on you like a hand around your throat. The locket is still in your hand, the rose etched into its surface digging into your palm, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

It never feels like enough.

He’s laughing softly now, his voice slurring as he mutters something you can’t quite hear. His head tilts back, his eyes fluttering shut, and you know he won’t remember any of this in the morning.

But you will.

You always do.

The next day, he’ll act like nothing happened. He’ll grin at you over a mug of coffee, his hair still messy from sleep, and he’ll say something stupid, something that would’ve made you laugh once. And you’ll smile back, the same way you always do, because it’s easier than saying what you’re really thinking.

But deep down, you’ll know: this is how it always goes.

This is how it always ends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house is too quiet.

Not the quiet that lulls you to sleep, the kind that hums with the soft rhythm of peace. No. This quiet is suffocating. It’s the kind of quiet that makes you feel like you’re the only person left in the world.

You’re lying in bed when you notice it. The sun is just starting to rise, the pale light slipping through the blinds and stretching across the room in thin, fractured lines. You’ve been awake for hours, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, the locket clutched tightly in your hand.

It takes you a moment to realize what’s different. The absence is subtle at first, just a nagging thought at the back of your mind that you can’t quite place. The blankets beside you are crumpled but empty, the faint imprint of his body still visible in the mattress.

You sit up slowly, the ache in your chest twisting tighter as your gaze darts around the room. His boots aren’t by the door. His jacket isn’t hanging on the chair.

Your stomach drops.

No. He wouldn’t. Not like this.

You stand quickly, the blood rushing to your head as you make your way to the living room. The floor creaks beneath your feet, the sound echoing in the stillness, and you feel your chest tighten with every step.

The living room is empty.

The couch is still rumpled from the night before, the faint smell of cigarettes lingering in the air. The ashtray on the coffee table is full, the edges of the glass stained yellow from use. But he’s not here.

You check the kitchen next, your hands shaking as you push open the door. The counters are cluttered with empty bottles and crumpled receipts, the remnants of another night that you’ve already lost track of. His mug is still on the table, the coffee inside gone cold, but there’s no sign of him.

The panic starts to set in now, creeping up your throat like a sickness. You check the bathroom, the hallway, the spare room that neither of you use, but it’s all the same.

Empty.

You make your way back to the bedroom, your chest heaving with shallow breaths, and grab your phone from the nightstand. Your fingers tremble as you unlock the screen, scrolling through your messages with a growing sense of dread.

Nothing.

No missed calls. No texts. No explanations.

You press the phone to your chest, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break through your ribs.

He always comes back.

You tell yourself this over and over, like a mantra. Like a prayer. He always comes back. No matter how far he goes, no matter how bad the fight, he always comes back.

But deep down, you know this time is different.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You find the letter hours later, tucked underneath the ashtray on the coffee table.

It’s written on the back of an old receipt, the ink smudged in places where he’d pressed too hard. The handwriting is rushed, uneven, but you’d recognize it anywhere.

“Sorry.”

That’s all it says.

Just one word, scrawled across the paper in shaky, uneven letters. No explanation. No apology. No promise to come back.

You read it over and over again, your fingers gripping the edge of the receipt so tightly that it crumples under your touch. The word blurs as the tears spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless, but you don’t stop reading it.

It’s the only thing he left behind.

The house feels bigger now, emptier. You wander through the rooms like a ghost, your feet dragging against the floor, your hands brushing against the walls as though you’re trying to anchor yourself to something.

His things are gone. Not everything—just the essentials. His jacket, his boots, the backpack he keeps in the closet. The rest is still here, scattered across the house like he’s planning to come back for it.

But you know he won’t.

You sit on the edge of the bed, the letter still clutched in your hand, and stare at the locket around your neck. The rose etched into its surface feels sharper today, the edges digging into your palm like a warning.

You think about the last time he smiled at you—the kind of smile that made your chest ache, that made you forget, just for a moment, how much he hurt you. You think about the way his hands felt on your skin, the way his voice sounded when he said your name, the way he used to make you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

But that man is gone. Or maybe he was never real to begin with.

You don’t cry at first.

The tears come later, in the middle of the night, when the weight of the silence becomes too much to bear. You lie on the floor of the living room, the receipt still clutched in your hand, and sob into the empty space where he used to be.

The locket feels heavy against your chest, the chain pulling tight against the back of your neck as you curl into yourself.

You think about calling him. About texting him. About driving to every shitty bar and trap house in the city just to find him. But you don’t.

Because deep down, you know it won’t change anything.

He’s gone.

And he’s not coming back this time.

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