#if you didn’t know what I was talking about

[markrosewater]

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

[tariah23]

@taashyvashedan

Noticed this right away!!! It’s weird but not surprising at all! Antiblackness and a general lack of respect for black ppl, our culture, and our messages goes hand in hand. The performer had nothing to do with Kendrick’s performance but it didn’t make the things that Kendrick was speaking on any LESS important, especially considering the history revolving around black Americans, our plight, and continued fighting. You can tell that these losers couldn’t wait to use this as an opportunity to make him out to be a Zionist or some shit. It’s nasty. Ppl do stuff like this whenever they feel like black folks (black Americans in particular) are getting too “uppity,” whenever we talk about our experiences in any shape or form. Regardless, I am so proud of that performer for using such a major platform to stand in solidarity with Sudan and Gaza. That was amazing!!! I pray so much for his safety, especially since the government will now have eyes on him…

The performer who waved the Sudan/Palestine flag was released without charges apparently!

[lovelivision]

‎‎‎‎THE PRACTICE OF KISSING .𖥔 ݁ ˖

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎𐔌.pairing — geto suguru / reader

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎── word count: 10k

✿ summary... after getting asked on a date you feel insecure over your inexperience regarding kissing someone. telling your bestfriend geto about your concerns results in an offer from him you didn't expect

warnings.ᐟ ── 18+ only, smut, pwp, swearing, making out, dry humping, dirty talk, hickeys, biting, (light) nipple play, praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, orgasm denial (once), bsf!geto, virgin!reader, return of tease!geto, afab!reader, no use of pronouns !!

The state of your mind is currently a mess, feeling overwhelmed and staring off into space as you think about how a guy asked you on a date earlier today. You'd turned him down but only because you have a particular hang up you can't get over, hence the feeling overwhelmed. You’ve never gone out on a date before and you feel like you’re missing out, so you definitely would’ve said yes if you weren’t so unsure of yourself.

Geto's hand waves in front of your face, breaking you from your trance, "Are you even listening to me?"

Has he been talking? Damn, you really spaced out, "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"Not even a little bit," his gaze unamused.

You look away from him and to the poster behind his head on the wall, feeling sheepish, "Then no... sorry."

His frown deepens, legs uncrossing and scooting closer to the edge of his bed, "What are you thinking about so hard?"

"Not telling," you answer, spinning around in his office chair so that you’re facing away from him.

His desk is neat, everything organised and probably put exactly where it should be. Beside his monitor sits a little black cat figurine, one you had bought him not too long ago because it reminded you of him. Seeing it displayed makes you smile; he must like it.

Geto’s voice cuts through your small reverie, "So, you're not only going to ignore me, you're also not going to tell me what's wrong?"

Not even glancing back, you hum at him, "That would be a correct assessment... yes."

"Have I told you that you're annoying yet today?" He exasperates.

Shrugging, "I don't think so?"

"Oh? In that case, you're annoying."

"You're so mean to me; this is why I don't want to tell you what's wrong," you’re being dramatic but so is he.

A sigh leaves him, "If I promise to be nice will you tell me what's wrong?"

Your head flops onto the chairs headrest, jabbing at him jokingly, "I don't know if you're capable of kindness, Suguru."

"Now who's being mean? I'm nice all the time."

"Maybe to strangers..." You mumble out.

There’s no reply from him and for a second you think he’s going to leave the issue alone… that is until you’re suddenly spinning. His footsteps are always so light, you didn’t even hear him come up behind you. You’re facing him now, his hands holding himself up by the arm rests of his office chair. He’d spun you around just to lean down into your space and pointedly look at you.

Geto squints, “I’m nice to you all the time.”

“I don’t think this constitutes as ‘nice’.”

He groans your name, “Come on, you always talk to me when something’s wrong.”

“Maybe this is awkward for me to talk to you about,” you pout back at him.

His tongue clicks in realisation, “So, it’s about your love life?”

The immediate correct guess stumps you, causing you to sputter out, “What!? You have no way of–”

“–You never talk to me about your dates and you also got defensive so I’m guessing I’m right,” his gaze is even, unconcerned.

You huff at him and echo his earlier question, “Have I told you that you’re annoying yet today?”

“Yes, earlier when you almost fell over and I smiled,” he reminds.

Your response is a grimace and a matter-of-fact tone when saying, “I don’t tell you about my dates because I don’t go on them.”

“Ever?” Geto’s eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised by your confession.

Cementing back, “Ever.”

“People have definitely asked you out though.”

“Yeah but not that often because they always think we’re together,” you glare back at him.

A hand reaches for your face and squishes your cheeks between his fingers, “Don’t look at me like that, that’s not my fault.”

Your voice comes out all mumbled and difficult to understand, “It so is.” He rolls his eyes at you and you slap his hand away, “Stop squishing my face!”

Letting go, he sighs and takes a step back, sitting on the edge of the bed again, “Something about your love life is bothering you.”

Crossing your arms over your chest and looking to the side, you complain, “You’re so nosy.”

“Am not.”

What a liar, he’s always in your business. Though, now that you’re thinking about it, you don’t think he’s usually in other people’s business this bad. He does like hearing about the gossip you collect though, always ready to hear it while acting as though he doesn’t care.

There’s no reply you can think to give, so you give him the silent treatment. Still looking away from him and silently pouting, you can feel his eyes watching you, waiting for you to break. It’s a frequent game you start that he finishes, silently ignoring him while he watches and waits until you can’t take it anymore and tell him what’s on your mind.

A few more moments pass by and you already feel ready to give in, you hate how much more effective his silence is. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, your gazes meet and you feel yourself folding all at once.

Large and exasperated groan leaving you as your shoulders slump back into the chair, “Fine!”

He perks up at your concession, a self-satisfied look on his face that irks you.

Looking at him properly to say, “I was asked on a date earlier today.”

The expression on his face changes to one of annoyance, like he’s not happy to hear that, “Who?”

“Some guy, you don’t know him,” you wave off, not really understanding why it matters to him.

Geto prods for more information, “…And what did you say?”

“…I said no.”

“Oh?” His reaction is indecipherable to you, “Why?”

This question is exactly why you didn’t want to talk about this, “I don’t know…” You’re lying, trying to avoid talking about this in more depth.

“Did you like him?”

“I didn’t not like him,” you shrug, “I would’ve liked to go out with him at least once but…”

“But…” He pushes.

“I don’t know, Suguru,” you scowl at your own reasoning, “I’ve never been on a proper date before, I don’t know what to expect or what’s expected of me. What if he wanted to kiss me or something?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, making you antsy while you wait for him to talk, “…Would you want to kiss him back?”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t think I’m understanding the issue,” his brows are pinched with his confusion.

You’re exhausted with him, like you aren’t the one being purposefully cryptic, “Am I gonna have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh!” You kick your legs in a mini tantrum, “I’ve never properly kissed someone… it’s always been like… a peck, I don’t know? But what if he expected more of me?”

You can see the way he’s actively fighting against the smile threatening to break out on his face, “Is that–” he bites down an amused sound, “Is that why you always say no to dates?”

“I don’t like you very much right now,” you were already feeling silly and embarrassed and his clear joy from this is not helping that.

He pouts at you mockingly, “Don’t be like that, I can help.”

“How could you possibly help me with this?”

A smile comfortable on his face when he states, “I could teach you.”

“You want to teach me how to kiss?” You scrutinise him, “Have you gone insane?”

“You’re the one all hung up on this and I’m offering to help you,” he puts his hands up, “But if you’d rather be a dateless loser for the rest of your life–”

“–Hey!” You point at him, “Uncalled for… and rude!”

A very signature and very annoying, polite smile sits on his pretty features. Unbothered by your outburst at his very clear bait. He simply raises his arm and grabs the hand you had pointed at him, tugging you from the chair and into him on the bed. You’re taken aback by his bold move, so close to him so quickly. Falling into his lap less than gracefully, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady as you sit sideways between his legs.

You stutter out at him, “Wha– what are you doing?”

Letting go of your hand; he reaches for your face. His thumb stroking softly against your cheekbone, “Do you want my help or not?”

“What you’re basically asking me is if I want to kiss you,” you correct… because that is what he’s asking right now.

Geto’s head drops back slightly as he fights the urge to roll his eyes at you dramatically, hand resting on your outer thigh now, “Don’t be so pedantic. You have a problem and I’m offering to help fix it.”

A sound of disapproval slips from you at his wording, “I know the theory behind kissing someone, Suguru. What you’re offering is making out with me.”

“So?”

Your expression is dumbfounded, you know he’s not this dense, “You want to stick your tongue in my mouth and then go back to the usual?”

He leans in again, dodging your question with his own, “Do you want me to stick my tongue in your mouth?”

“Geto–”

“–Ouch–”

“–Shut up.” You cut him off, “If! We did this and I do mean if. Would you be able to look at me the same?”

“The same as I always have? Sure,” there’s no hesitation from him.

He seems so sure, like he’s not worried about what this might mean for your friendship at all. The easy-going look on his face is both pissing you off and relaxing you, emotions he’s always been able to pull from you.

His hand is large on your thigh and the way it makes you feel is not how you should feel for him. Mumbling out a small, “You’re annoying.”

An amused breath leaves him, “You’ve already told me that today.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you look up at him through your lashes.

“That’s kind of the point of this.”

“Right…” You can’t help but find yourself feeling nervous, embarrassed that you won’t be good enough. For some reason… you really want him to think you’re a good kisser.

He must take your silence as rejection because his tone is gentle when he says, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I know, I just…” You frown while looking at him, trying to figure out exactly what steps to take next, “I don’t know what to do now…” Geto’s face relaxes and a smile replaces his concern causing you to chastise him, “Don’t smile, it’s not funny!”

“No,” he agrees, “But it is a little cute.”

“Whatever, can we just kiss now?”

“Desperate?” He asks teasingly.

You deny it, “I just want you to stop talking.”

“Sure.” It’s all dragged out and has a teasing lilt to it. Damn him and his need to have the last word. You don’t reply to that and instead try to shuffle off him, thinking sitting like this would be awkward. His hold becomes firmer on you, “What are you doing?”

You’re confused, “Isn’t this position weird?”

“Makes it easier,” is all he says in reply.

Being sat between his spread legs, your own draping over one of them while he holds you doesn’t seem ideal. To you, this couldn’t be a more awkward position to be in for this. Instead of telling him that though, you settle back, “Alright…”

When you look back up at him properly, he’s already looking at you. There’s a funny feeling that runs through you at the look in his eyes. The hand on your thigh moves to your face again, cradling you as he leans in. Murmuring a soft, “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

Just as he’s about to move all the way in, your hand covers his mouth, “Wait.” You stop him, your nerves getting the better of you, “What if… what if you don’t like kissing me?” He looks a little frustrated so you pull your hand away, giving him a chance to speak.

“Do you want me to like kissing you?”

You feel flustered by his question, “Why do you always answer my questions with a question?”

“Because your questions are interesting…” he pauses, “…And also, I like teasing you.”

“If you answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

“Fine,” he indulges you, “I’m not gonna dislike kissing you so your question is dumb.”

“But you can’t know–”

He tuts you, interrupting what you were saying, “–You gotta answer my question now.”

You groan at him, “Well… yeah.”

“‘Yeah’ what?”

He’s such a smug bastard, “Yeah! Yeah I want you to like kissing me, Suguru.”

You’re huffy but he seems so pleased by your response. A serene and happy look on his face despite the tone you used. You find yourself waiting for him to say something more, something to tease you further but he doesn’t. He simply leans in again, taking you by surprise when his lips are softly pressing to yours. It’s short and sweet, more akin to a peck than anything else. Continuing to plant gentle kisses to your lips until you return them and then he lets them linger.

The feelings that run through you have you all tingly and hot, kissing your best friend for practice probably shouldn’t feel this good… right? You still don’t really know what you’re doing though, more just letting him kiss you than anything. When you part again, you murmur, “Suguru, I still don’t know what I’m meant to be doing.”

“Just follow my lead,” his eyes stay on your lips, now shiny from the shared kisses, “That’s all you gotta do.”

“But–”

His eyes roll when you go to argue more, “–Stop thinking so hard about it and let me kiss you.”

You can’t help but squirm slightly at that, “Okay.”

Satisfaction rolls off him in waves but thankfully for you he doesn’t comment any further, choosing to kiss you again. Instinctually, your hand reaches for his chest and grips onto his shirt, you need something to ground you.

Geto is taking this slow, he’s trying his best to be patient to savour this moment with you. He doesn’t want to push you too far too soon and have you stop whatever this is. If he were more sure of himself and where he stands with you, he’d have just asked you out like a sane person but he’s not sure and he didn’t want to pass on this opportunity.

He can feel this becoming something he covets, your soft lips on his, uncertain in your movements but so ready to be kissed by him. His heart pulls with a kind of possessiveness that’s not completely unfamiliar to him regarding you. The desire to not want anyone else to ever have this side of you overwhelming him.

It’s addictive, his kisses, his hold on you… him. You can feel yourself falling into him more, the longer you do this dance. You want more, you want him to kiss you more but you have no idea how to ask for that. Following his lead is good, it’s helpful but it’s starting to feel like he’s depriving you.

Pulling back, you force yourself to voice, “I want more…”

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” He sounds strained.

“You said you would teach me,” you remind. “So, teach me.”

His thumb presses into your jaw, “Open your mouth more then.”

Doing as he asks; he angles you just slightly before pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss fuller, his tongue licking into your mouth. It has a shiver running down your spine, the sensation new and mind numbing. It’s messier than before and so much more dizzying, you can’t even really keep up with his movements. Just letting him kiss you to his hearts content, feeling yourself getting drunk on his lips in the process.

You can’t even be sure if you’re doing this right but it doesn’t really feel like it matters, not when you’re this lost in it. Lips gliding against his, a small involuntary sound pulling from your chest at how he grips you tighter. Feeling like he gets impossibly closer, his kisses growing desperate the moment you whine into him.

Geto’s restraint is wearing thin, his desire for you growing tenfold at how you moan for him. He wants to touch you so much more, to put his hands on every part of you. The fear of ruining this moment keeps his hands planted firmly to your hip and cheek though and it’s killing him to not touch you more, more, more.

When you tentatively lick against his tongue he almost all but folds in that single moment, he feels so pathetically weak for you. So unsure of yourself and still trying to kiss him just as deeply as he is you. A guttural groan leaves him, a sound he’d be almost ashamed of if he didn’t notice the way you squirm at it.

You pull back from him and he can’t help but chase your lips, he doesn’t want to stop. An amused breath leaves you, “Hold on.”

He doesn’t understand what you need a moment for until you’re pulling his hands from you and moving to straddle him.  Your thighs resting beside him, he feels dizzy with need, the need to touch you, to undress you. To have you naked and straddling his lap just like this could make his whole year. His hands are on your hips, tugging you up his lap just slightly further, encouraging.

Going to sit on him, you notice his erection and gasp. Heat rising to your face, suddenly so conscious of how heated this exchange has gotten, “Maybe we should stop…”

It’s almost like it hurts him to hear those words, “Do you want to stop?”

You wish you weren’t so certain, so quick to immediately know that, “… No, I don’t.”

“That’s good…” he smiles, “Cause I’m not done teaching yet.”

And then you’re kissing again, wet and sloppy. He’s holding back less, depraved in how he sucks your tongue into his mouth, bolder now. Revelling in every twitch you make against him, every mumbled whine you let out.

Mindlessly, your hips lightly roll downwards and his resulting grip holds you so still against him. A debauched moan leaving him at your unexpected movements, parting his mouth from yours with it. Geto’s head tucks into your chest, controlling his breathing, like he might snap at any moment.

You feel a little frantic, like you might’ve hurt him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“–Don’t– fuck– don’t apologise,” he can feel how warm you are through your pants and it’s making him feel feral.

Your fingers run through his hair, to comfort him, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” He huffs an unamused sound, “The only thing hurting me is how badly I wanna stuff you full.”

“Sugu–”

“–I know you can feel just how hard I am,” he pulls his head back to look at you, eyes blown wide and dark, “I’m practically aching for you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, “Suguru… are you some kind of closeted perv?”

The question makes him laugh, “Wanna find out?”

“You were only supposed to teach me how to kiss…”

“Mhm, and you’re doing great,” his nose traces along your neck, inhaling you, “I still have so much more knowledge to give though.”

“Don’t be so– hah!” He licks at your skin before latching his mouth to the side of your throat, the pressure making you fidget in his lap. You feel so sensitive, so much more than what you thought you would.

When Geto pulls back from the mark he’s made, he blows softly on it, enjoying the way you shudder on top of him. “‘Don’t be so’ what?”

That’s right you were going to say something, he looks really nice right now though… eyes lidded and cheeks just slightly pink, lips slick. What were you going to say to him? His grin only grows, taking satisfaction in your glazed eyes and struggle to think. Averting your gaze, you try to remember what you wanted to say. The break in eye contact short lived since he grabs your chin and pulls you back.

“Come on, pretty, what were you gonna say?”

The effect he’s having on you is becoming too much, “I was gonna tell you to not be so depraved!”

“Hmm…” His head quirks at you, “You seem to like it though?”

How presumptuous of him, “You can’t know that!”

“You know… the human body is really interesting, for example…” he looks down to where you’re sitting over his prominent erection, “You’re so incredibly hot against me that I feel like I’m going insane,” smiling back up at you evilly, “Just how wet are you?”

The possibility of fainting is very real all of a sudden, his question has you hot everywhere. “I jus– I just told you to not be so depraved.”

“Yeah and I ignored you,” he deadpans, ignoring your indignant sounds. “Do you want me to stop?”

Again, you hate how badly you don’t want to stop. Right now, you think you’d let him do just about whatever he wanted to you. “Promise not to tease me later?”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

You pout back at him, “Then I’m not gonna say what I was thinking.”

His curiosity is sufficiently piqued, “Fine, I promise to try not to tease you later.”

“That’s not good enough.”

He tries again, “I promise.” You both stay looking at one another for a moment before he adds, “That’s as good as you’re getting.” And you know it to be true.

How to say this without embarrassing yourself, “You can… you can touch me… however you want, Suguru…”

He feels like he’s gone into shock, “What?”

“Did you not hear me?”

“No… I heard you,” he can’t help the way his cock jumps in excitement, “I’m just double checking I heard you right.” He leans in to taunt, “You’re gonna let me touch you however I want?”

“You said you had more knowledge to share,” It’s a dangerous game that you’re both playing.

He breathes out, “And if I wanna touch you in a depraved manner?”

So certain in yourself when you reply, “I want to be touched in a depraved manner… by you.”

Ah, so you’re trying to kill him, is the conclusion that Geto has come to. A breathless laugh leaves him, “For practice?”

“Sure,” you give him the answer you think he wants, in reality you just want to desperately be touched by him. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life and it’s all his fault.

An amused sound leaves him, “Hah– Don’t know if I believe your answer there…” his hands are on your hips, slowly dragging you over his dick. Biting his lip at the feeling, cock jumping when your breath stutters.

“Wait– wait,” your hands hold onto his and he stops moving you. Realising now that he might’ve gotten carried away, that he should’ve double checked again.

When you get off his lap and onto shaky legs Geto feels his heart drop, only for it to suddenly pick up speed when you’re shuffling your pants down and off. Crawling back onto him in your panties, he – shamefully – has to put so much focus into keeping calm, so worked up he could cum from this alone.

“Yeah…” you murmur back at him, placing yourself right over his erection again, gasping at how hard he is, at how much more you can feel even through the layers left on, “I lied just now.”

He wants to ask more; he wants to know what you lied about but if he thought you were hot before then he’s melting now. You’re sitting on his dick in the cutest little panties, already so drenched from making out with him that the affection he feels for you fills up his chest. He’s way too distracted right now to ask what he wants.

“Be honest,” it feels like a chore to rip his gaze away from your pussy, “Are you trying to kill me?”

Geto’s eyes are all glassy and blown, cheeks flushed as he implores you, like he’s worried you’re actually trying to kill him. He’s making you feel shy, “It’s your fault I’m acting like this.”

That has him feeling a little prideful, “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you confirm.

“In that case,” he’s slowly dragging your heated core over his erection again, “Should I fix it?”

You nod your head at him, “…Yeah”

The shivers that run through you make you gasp, the drag over Geto’s dick feeling so much better without your pants on. And yet you can’t help but feel so greedy, a kind of need in your bones that you’ve not experienced before.

He takes his hands away from your hips and you stop moving, whining pathetically at him, “Why–”

“–Keep doing it yourself,” he encourages.

“But–”

“Just do it how it feels good, use me for a bit,” he grins, “I wanna watch you pleasure yourself on me.”

“You really are a perv,” you mutter back at him.

His retort is quick, “Say that to me when your pussy’s not drooling all over my pants.”

Your cunt jumps at his words, “Are you gonna be this crude the whole time?”

“I can be worse if you want?”

“I can’t stand you.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he looks pointedly down to where your cunt is pulsing hot against him. “Now do us both a favour and move,” he hisses out through clenched teeth, apparently nearing his limit.

“You’re so bossy,” you frown, “I’ve never…” You’re at a loss for how to phrase it.

“Dry humped someone before?” He finishes for you, “Though with how wet you are–”

“Shh!” You cover his mouth with your palm, “Stop… talking about how wet I am.”

He pulls your hand away, “You know, I’m not surprised you’ve never–”

“–You don’t have to say it again,” you cut him off.

He rolls his eyes, “You hadn’t even made out with someone, I’m just saying that I didn’t ask you to use me without knowing.” He holds the side of your face gently, “Stop worrying about it so much, I know already… that you’re a huge virgin.”

His gentle touch greatly contrasts his teasing words. He’s so evil to you, “This is why I say you’re not nice.”

“Do you want me to be nice? To tell you how pretty you are and how good of a job you’re doing?” The reaction you have is almost visceral, skin heating and looking away from him. Even more embarrassed when he chuckles at you, “Got a bit of a praise kink, hmm?”

“You’re making this difficult for me.”

“You should’ve just done what I asked then,” he shrugs easily.

If you thought holding out would punish him more than you, then maybe you’d just get off him and go home to get yourself off but you want him to make you feel good. So instead, you’ll just give in and hope he shows you mercy, though by how this is going, he doesn’t seem to be the type.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down into Geto and he huffs out a breath like he wasn’t expecting it. Your hands move to his shoulders for purchase, using the leverage you have there to grind down into him harder.

He holds onto your waist. Not moving you, just resting his hands there, “Oh fuck– no– hah– no warning?”

You shake your head at him, brows pinched as you focus on seeking your own pleasure, “You– hnn– wanted me to– hah– to do as you asked.”

His head falls back slightly at the pleasure, a lazy smile on his face, “That’s true.”

The longer you do this, the slicker his pants get, you’re so unbelievably wet that it’s coating the material obscenely. Geto is in awe of it, eyes fixed on where you’re rutting down into him, marvelling at the damp spot on his pants, at how drenched your panties are. So soaked that they’re practically a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination with how it’s sticking to you.

He holds you still suddenly and the whine you let out is endearing, “Wait for a second,” he huffs.

Moving his hands to his belt to undo it, shuffling his pants down his legs. You lean up on your knees for a moment for him to drop them to his feet but before you can sit back down, his hand is holding you there. He runs the fingers of his other hand through your covered folds, a groan coming from the back of Geto’s throat.

“Seriously, you’re so fucking wet,” he reminds you.

“Sorry…”

He almost chokes, “‘Sorry?’” His fingers draw up to your clit, pressing into it, “Don’t be fucking sorry… I’m nearly salivating because of how drenched you are.”

That catches you off guard, “Sugu–”

He doesn’t let you speak, “–This wet because of me? It’s my fault you said?”

You bite your lip, his fingers circling your clit deliciously, “Mhm.”

His eyes brighten, “Perfect. Aren’t you just perfect for me?”

Your legs start shaking and he lets you drop back to his lap, one less layer between the two of you now. He’s so warm and hard and if you weren’t straddling him, you’d be clenching your thighs together for relief.  

“You are doing such a good job for me,” he whispers low against your ear, “Having the most perfect reactions.”

You whine at his praise, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Yeah,” he licks against your ear, “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

His size is honestly daunting, large and thick as you sit on it, throbbing underneath you. “Suguru?”

He noses at your cheekbone, “Mmm?”

“I’m worried…”

“About?”

“What if you don’t fit…” you look down to his lap, “I just mean, you feel…big.”

“I don’t have to put it in you,” he comforts but he can’t help the way he twitches at your genuine concern over taking him.

“But you want to?”

“What sort of a question is that?” he holds you down while he grind up into you, “Does it feel like I want to?”

“I was jus– ah!– I was just checking,” you sulk back.

Your mind melts, getting away from you. He’s rutting up into you in a way that has you shaking and your breaths stuttering. On edge for so long while sat in his lap, you want to meet his grinds, you want to move your hips into him but his grip is firm and steady.

It’s honestly a little pitiful how quickly he’s building you up, your insides clenching with the pleasure. The drag back and forth on his clothed cock driving you slowly to insanity. His boxers almost as ruined as your panties, your slick coating his covered dick. The glide much smoother than what you’d expect. It’s like you can feel him throbbing for you and it makes you want to fully take him even more.

Your own thoughts riling you up, the idea of him sitting so heavily inside you makes you huff out a whine. A sound that Geto relishes in, in fact, he’s relishing in all of this. You’re so malleable to his will, he thinks in this state, you’d let him do whatever he pleases. The thought alone nearly has his eyes rolling.

He needs you to cum like this, he needs to see it. How you shake and writhe on top of him, the expression you make. He wants to make you cum in so many different ways just to see how your expressions might differ each time.

It’s relentless, how he humps up into you, how he pulls you down into him. Your clit catching on the tip of his dick making you jump each time, shocks of pleasure running through you. You never thought something like this would feel so damn good.

Fingers grappling at the material of his shirt, pleasure wracking your body as he draws you closer and closer, “Stop– ah!– if you keep going I’ll– hnn–”

“–So soon?” he hums, “I don’t know if– hah– I believe you… you’re gonna have to prove it,” he leers back at you.

His eyes on you feel so consuming, calm and watching but so hungry that it’s driving you to the edge. It feels like you’re melting, so warm and unbelievably close. Body twitching on top of him with your impending orgasm. You don’t even get to try and warn him again, sounds you’ve never heard yourself make falling from your mouth before you can think to stop them. Trembling with the force of your orgasm, feeling so weak as you slump into him, eyes wet and bleary.

Geto feels like he’s vibrating, watching you come undone on top of him making him feel too much at once. His arms wrap around you and hold you close, hands smoothing up and down your back. Lips close to your ear when he speaks, “You know… you make some really cute noises when you cum.”

Lazily, you look up at him through your lashes. Feeling a stupid kind of pleasure running through your body, still jolting slightly with the come down. “Stop trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m only being honest,” his hands slip under your shirt, groping your waist, “You getting embarrassed is just a bonus.”

“Have you always been this sadistic?”

He leans in and presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Who knows?” He smiles.

Turning, you catch his mouth with yours. Kissing him properly, hands tickling the back of his neck as you try to kiss him like he did you earlier. His hands on your waist grip you, lips imploring. So needy in how he returns your kiss, all but whining when you part. A string of saliva connects your mouths and he wipes your lower lip with his thumb, pressing it to your lips like he might push it inside.

Eyes lost as he dances his digit over your plush lips, “You’re beautiful,” is all he says, gazing at you with so much affection.

Opening your mouth, you gently take his thumb between your teeth. Biting so very lightly before flicking your tongue over the tip of it. Geto looks like he blushes at the action, pulling his hand back.

“Seems as though I’m not the only tease,” he accuses.

You mutter back at him, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His compliment had made you feel so soft and tingly that you didn’t know what to say or how to react. It’s not like he’s never complimented you before, you just weren’t expecting him to call you beautiful so earnestly. Being given compliments by someone has never made your insides flutter as much as they did just now.

He hums at you, redirecting his attention. Pulling at the hem of your shirt to show what he wants; you lift your arms up so he can remove it from you properly. Feeling so bare on top of him but not really minding, still too blissed on your orgasm to care.

Geto doesn’t waste any time, groping your tits in his large hands. Rolling your nipples experimentally and grinning wide at how you twitch and bite back moans at it. “My, you’re sensitive.”

Teeth digging into your lower lip to stop the pitiful noises he’s threatening to pull from you, “Try not to sound so pleased about that.” Your blood is still thumping through your ears, pleasure fresh in your bones.

“Would you rather I be upset?”

“I’d rather you not make– ah!–”

His wet mouth wrapping around your nipple has your words cutting off suddenly, back arching into him. Huffing out breaths at how he flicks his tongue over your sensitive skin, dizzy from the heat he’s making you feel. Pulling back with an obscene pop, licking at you a final time while keeping eye contact before swapping to your neglected tit.

He’s playing with you, or he’s waiting for you to say you’re ready for more… no he’s definitely just playing with you. Taking his time leaving marks all over your tits, even biting some places. Neglecting himself in favour of teasing you to insanity, though it can’t be that painful for him considering how he’s enjoying this immensely.

Whining at him, “You– hah!– You’re gonna leave too many marks,” he ignores you in favour of making a new mark to the top of your breast, “Suguru!”

Threading your fingers through his hair, you pull him back with a tug. You’re frowning at him but your eyes are so wet and dazed and you’re nearly completely naked on top of him. Covered in hickeys and his saliva, despite your pulled brows you look so euphoric.

Feigning ignorance, he simpers, “What’s wrong with that?” A finger trails over the marks he’s left, grazing a sensitive nipple in his journey, “You seemed to liked it.”

Swallowing your pride, you tell him directly, “I want more.”

“You want to cum again?” He muses, “Greedy.”

Taking offence at his accurate guess, you add, “I want… you to as well.”

Geto ignores the thumping of his heart, “Take off your panties then.”

“But…”

A brow raises at you, “‘But’ what?”

You don’t really want to tell him about how shaky your legs are, you’re a little concerned they’ll give out as soon as you try to stand. He really doesn’t need the ego boost right now, “Nothing.”

Moving off him so so carefully, you keep your hands on his shoulders as you stand between his spread legs. With the way your knees are wobbling and fingers gripping to him so harshly, it doesn’t take him long to figure out that you’ve not really got a great sense of balance right now. A smug smile gracing his lips when he sees you fight to figure out how you’re going to take off your panties with your hands on him.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” You quickly answer.

“Then take them off,” a finger pulls at the waistline of your underwear only to let it snap back to you. At your continued struggle he adds, “Or do you want me to take them off for you?”

You look to him, eyes hopeful for mercy, “Please?”

“Sure,” his tone polite but you’re not sure you’re that trusting of him.

Thankfully, his hands slide them delicately down your legs, brushing against your thighs. Though, he’s an opportunist and he uses this chance to grip at your thighs, pulling at your skin further and further up your legs. Humming low to himself at the slick coating your inner thighs, unable to help himself when he drags his fingers through your folds, touching your pussy directly.

“Fuck, alright–” He bites out, pulling you to his lap suddenly, “I’ve reached my limit.”

“Wait,” he stops his frantic movements and you pull at his shirt, “Take it off.”

He doesn’t even tease, just immediately does as you asked, hastily tugging his shirt off. It’s dropped less than gracefully onto the floor. Your fingers dance along his shoulders, down his chest. You want to take it all in a bit more but he’s flopping onto his back and shucking his boxers down enough to pull his cock free.

The size of him almost has your eyes bulging, you wonder how he’s been so patient when he’s this hard and achy looking. Tip flushed deep pink and already smothered in his own leaky precum, your cunt throbs while looking at him. Caught between concern over his size and a desperate need to be full of him.

“You don’t have to take it but please just–” He grabs and moves you until you’re hovering over it, “Sit on it at least.”

Lowering yourself cautiously, you sit on him lightly. He can feel your heat and it makes him shiver, “I don’t need you to be gentle with me,” he snickers, “Split your pussy open on my dick.”

Geto doesn’t even give you the chance to do it yourself, hands tugging you down onto him with more force. A gasp ripping from you when he immediately starts dragging you back and forth on his whole length. Stifled groans leave him from under you, his chest vibrating under your palm.

“Sugu–”

“–Sorry,” his brows are knitted together, “I got– nnh– impatient.”

It’s so wet, slipping over him repeatedly, the head of his cock nudging your clit over every pass. Your teeth dig into your lower lip to fight the whines bubbling inside you but eventually you give up and just let yourself moan. He seems to like it anyways, cock jerking at the soft breaths and whimpers leaving you.

He’s on the brink of stupidity, you’re so soft and unbelievably warm and his tip keeps catching on your hole and it makes him shudder each time. Looking down, he watches the way you’re coating his cock in more of your slick, cock shiny with how wet you are. Lewd sounds of your pussy grinding over him fill the room and now he’s thinking about you creaming around him. He’s never wanted something so bad in his life.

“Sugu,” you call out to him and he dopily pulls his eyes to yours, “Do you think I could just…” when his cockhead catches on your hole again, you press down, not even taking him in any real way and yet still stretching slightly for it.

His grip hardens on you, holding you completely still, “There’s no ‘just’ anything.” He struggles to breath out evenly, “Not with how tight you are.”

“I wanna feel full though,” you try wiggling down into him but he’s truly got you in a vice like hold.

His cock twitches as excitement rushes through him, “You asking me to take your virginity, pretty?”

Shy when you ask, “Would you?”

He’s not passing on the chance to pick on you a little bit, “How bad do you want it?”

He can feel the way your hole flutters when you think about his question, your answer seemingly downplaying how you feel, “Pretty bad.”

“Hmm,” He pretends to think about his answer.

You’re taking issue with his faux deep thought, “Sugu, stop acting like you’re not…”

“Go on,” he encourages, “‘Like I’m not’ what?”

“Like you’re not…” you look away from him, mumbling out, “Aching for it…”

“Oh? You aching for it?” The smile he’s wearing can be heard in his words.

He sounds way too gleeful over this and it’s ticking you off, “Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ as you lift yourself off him.

“Don’t be like that,” he sits up, “I’m not letting you go anywhere… not when I know you’re aching for my cock.”

“I did not say that.”

“That’s what I heard you say,” he shrugs.

Geto’s arms wrap around you only to throw you down onto the bed, gone from you for a second while he shoves his boxers off quickly. And then he’s crawling over you, hands tracing up your body, relishing in your reactions to him.

“You really are so sensitive,” he mutters, trailing a finger up your thigh and watching your skin break out in goosebumps.

He’s being so unbearable, the need you feel is so loud and he’s here taunting you, “You’re so frustrating.”

“You’re just a needy little thing,” he returns, “So desperate to be filled even though you’re not prepared in the slightest.”

“Then prepare me,” you whine back.

He finds this about you cute, your insatiable greed, your back and forth between shy and so horny that you’re getting pissy at him. “I should teach you some manners,” he grumbles.

You spread your legs for him obscenely, growing even more impatient. “Please, touch me,” you pull his hand towards your pussy, “please.”

If he ever gets the chance to touch you like this again he’s going to torture you because right now you’re playing so completely unfairly that he can’t even think to deny you. His brows pull up as he flushes, finding himself doing exactly what you wanted, fingers gliding through your folds.

The way you keen at his touch almost makes it worth it. “You don’t play fair,” he complains.

“Someone lead by– hah!– po– poor example, I guess,” you shudder when he slips a single finger inside you.

Geto groans at the snug heat of your cunt, closing his eyes to take a quick breath at just how you feel wrapped around his digit. The fear or cumming the minute he gets inside you is real; he’s going to have to develop an insane amount of self-restraint between then and now.

“You’re hilarious,” he leans down to whisper in your hear, “Now shhh…” He draws his finger back before fucking it back in, lewd wet sounds of your pussy filling the silence, “Hear that?” He keeps repeating his movements, taking immense joy in how you writhe under him, “I think… pretty things that are this wet and begging to get fucked… don’t get to mock me.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, eyes glassy when you look up at him, “Don’t– nnh– be sooo mean.”

“You haven’t seen me be mean,” he pulls his finger back just to stuff another inside you, grinning when you arch your back at it, “I’ve only been nice to you today.”

“Be nicer,” you pout.

“Don’t wanna be,” he smiles graciously back at you.

The fingers he has in you scissor to spread you open, pleased hums leaving him at your responses. Your mouth drops open and legs shake, fighting to close but unable to with how he’s in-between them. He’s hitting all the perfect spots inside you, crooking his digits to rub against your inner walls in a way you’re never able to reach.

He’s getting you so close to cumming that you want to hide from him, somehow feeling so much more vulnerable like this than when you were sitting in his lap earlier. Slowly, he works you to the point of taking another of his fingers, fucked open on three of them now. Your toes curl and your thighs hoist themselves on either side of his waist. Hips grinding into his hand, meeting his movements.

Geto finds the frenzied and desperate grinds into his hand adorable, satisfied with just how much more greedy you get when you’re this turned on. He already knows you must be close, your sudden drive to fuck down onto his fingers a dead giveaway to him.

He adds his thumb, rubbing circles into your clit. You jerk at it, tits bouncing in a way that has him drooling. To be honest, if you weren’t practically begging to get dicked down earlier he would’ve put his mouth on you. Maybe if he weren’t also desperate to put his cock in you he’d do it anyways but for now, he’ll settle for fingerfucking you to insanity and then shoving you full of his dick.

Your voice comes out smaller than you want, “Sugu, I think–”

“–I know,” his eyes are bright, fully aware of how close you are.

He can feel the way you twitch and clench down on him, back arching off the bed. Speeding up his movements just to get you there that much quicker and when you’re about to cum all over his fingers… he pulls them from you. Leaving you without your orgasm but so high that he could blow on your clit and you might cum.

You whine at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Expression dopey and angry, sexually frustrated from the cruel and unexpected edging he just put you through. “What the hell, Suguru?!”

His grin is wolfish, merciless expression painted over with faux pity, “I’m so sorry, pretty. Were you close?” A hand cradles your face, soothing you for something that is completely his fault.

“Why would you do that?” All he’s succeeded in is making you needier than before, squirming under him with no way to find relief.

His answer is simple, “Just to see how you’d react.”

“I shouldn’t have hung out with you today.”

“Don’t be like that,” he guides his dick to your cunt, “I’m ‘bout to treat you so good.”

“If you don’t let me cum we’re not friends anymore,” you warn.

He snickers at how genuine you’re being, “Alright.”

“I mean it, Suguru.”

“I know you do,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “That’s why it’s a little tempting.”

You whine at him, “Can you stop being so cruel for a moment?”

He blinks at you, “What do I get if I do?”

“What do you want?”

“I want to be the first person you go on a date with.”

His request confuses you, “What? Why?”

He doesn’t answer you, “Those are my terms,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Okay! Fine, yes, whatever you want,” you nod at him.

He smiles and starts pushing into you, the stretch is a lot and it aches more than his fingers. You’re trying to breathe through it but it seems like he is too. His thumb is on your clit, trying to get you to relax for him. “St– stop– hah– fuck!– stop clenching so tight,” he hisses through his teeth.

“I can’t– nnh– help it,” your nails dig into his skin.

His lashes flutter when he gets his tip inside you, groan leaving him. “Wh– when I s–say date I mean– hnnn– a real date. A ‘I take you out and then try kissing you at the end of it’ date.”

For some reason, that makes your insides twist and you squirm. “Wh– whatever you– nnh– want, Sugu.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna– hah– dress up and let me take you out for your first ever date?” His fingers grip at his blanket below.

Your eyes roll as he slips further inside you, babbling out, “If you– hnn– let me cum? I’ll date only you.”

Geto sputters at that, hips driving forwards on their own making you both moan. His upper body drops down to you, lips ghosting over your neck and cheek before taking yours in a sweet kiss. He knows you’re out of your mind horny and probably not even sure of what you just said but he’s going to live in this moment while he fucks you.

He’s kissing your breath away while he slowly fills you to the hilt, trying so hard to be careful with you. His lips successfully distract you from the ache you were feeling, melting into him as he licks at your tongue.

Parting from you only when he’s balls deep inside you, head flopping to your shoulder as he moans. Struggling to keep it together, you’re wrapped so snug and hot around him, pulsing so tightly around his aching cock that he feels like he might cum at any second.

“Sugu?” When he hums, you continue, “Move please?”

You wiggle your hips into him but he’s quick to stop you with a firm hand, “If you don’t want this ending right now then you need to give me a moment.”

“Hmm, that’s awfully cute of you, Suguru,” you tease him.

“That’s bold,” he licks at the shell of your ear, “I’m going to ruin you.”

“More than you already have?”

He agrees, “So much more.”

It feels like an eternity before he’s finally dragging his hips back, that alone has your breath stuttering. He wants to set a punishing pace so bad; he wants to fuck you until you’re mad but he starts slow. Thrusting back into you at a languid pace, still carefully opening you up on his fat dick. It’s your first time and as much as he loves torturing you, he also loves pleasing you.

You’re scrabbling for purchase at his leisurely pace anyways, not expecting the heavy drag of his cock to feel this mind numbing. He chuckles lowly at the way you’re already weak for him, though it’s completely his fault considering all he’s put you through up until now.

“I think you may be the awfully cute one,” he smirks at you.

Your insides tug at his tone, “You can– hnn– be quiet.”

Leaning up, he rest on his knees, pushing your leg back and up. He has a great view of you taking him like this, able to see all your reactions. “I can but your pussy really likes when I talk.”

He’s so smug and he gets to be too because he’s right, his lightly mocking tone and that polite smile he wears is a deadly combo that has your cunt seizing around him. “I like it– hah– better when you’re nice to me.”

“You’re taking me all so well, pretty,” he praises, “Pussy sucking me right back in, so greedily.”

Your eyes roll back at how he thrusts into you, new angle hitting deeper than before, “That’s not– hnn– being nice!”

“Really?” He watches the way your hole clenches and feels how much wetter you get around him, “‘Cause you seemed to like it a lot.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, silently asking for him to fuck you.

He looks down his nose at you, “What are you asking for?”

Sulking, “I want you to– hah– move more.”

“You should’ve just said that then,” he crooks his head to the side at you.

The slow drag out is the same as always until he’s fucking himself back into you sharply, a gasped moan stumbling from you as your hands seek stability in the mattress below. Your whine is dragged out when he repeats it over and over, brows knitted together in your pleasure.

“That’s a nice reaction,” he comments smugly.

You only hum at him, too consumed by the feeling of him shoving his dick in and out over and over in such a relentless pace that you’re seeing stars. Either you’ve closed your eyes or they’ve rolled to the back of your head because you’re not seeing much of anything right now.

Your eyes are welling with tears, chest heaving with your breaths. The stretch in your leg increasing when Geto pushes down into you further, pushing back on your leg with it. He’s basically folded it over his shoulder, you had no idea you were capable of bending this much. You’re so dazed and fucked stupid when you look to him lazily, he looks so pretty like this. Hunched over you and driving his cock in and out of your tight heat, his hair hanging messily over his shoulders and face as his expression twists in bliss.

Reaching a hand up, you tuck a strand of his hair behind his hair, “You’re pretty.”

You say it so dopily that he wonders if you know what you’ve just said, “I’m fucking you to the point you’re cock drunk and you think I’m pretty?”

A shudder runs through you at his voice, “Mhm, and– ah!– you have– hnn– have a pretty voice.”

God help him, he’s about to cum from you calling him pretty. “St– stop– hnn– talking.”

“Sugu, you feel so–”

He cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, he has a feeling that whatever you were about to say would have him cumming inside you. “You’re so cute but I need you to shut up before I cum.”

From behind his hand, you look ruined. Tears slipping from your eyes, he can feel the way you’re drooling against his skin. The only sounds in the room his grunts, your muffled moans and the slick squelching of you swallowing his cock.

You want to keep telling him how pretty he is and how good he’s making you feel but even without him hindering you, you feel as though you may be beyond words now. Brain not able to form very cohesive thoughts as of this moment let alone speak them. He has you feeling so full, his cock throbbing against your walls in a way that has your skin thrumming.

Geto’s eyes lock down on where he’s stuffing himself into your little cunt, he feels himself short circuiting at the sight. Pussy bulging around him, struggling to take him all, dick so shiny with your slick. White creamy ring at the base of himself, it’s messy and lewd and it has him feeling so unbelievably obsessed with your cunt.

Thinking distantly that he’s going to do his best to impress you on your date so he can have you again, next time he’s definitely licking your pussy. Debauched groans vibrate in his chest at the thought, he’s going to make this so unforgettable for you, he needs you to be as obsessed with him as he is you. He’s going to be so much worse after this and he was already down pretty bad.

Your hand grabs at his wrist, trying to tug it away so you can speak. He pulls back out of curiosity, “I– hnn– I’m– ah!–” Giving up trying to warn him after a particular thrust has you crying out, there’s no real point in warning him anyways.

He grins at your inability to say anything meaningful, “I’ve gotcha, go ahead and cum for me.”

Of course he knew exactly what you were trying to say, how does he already know your body so perfectly. He leans down to you, impossibly close, just to kiss your cheek and say, “Come on, pretty, I wanna feel you squeeze me tight before I cum in you.”

Crude and obscene and effective because his words make you shudder as you suddenly cum around him. A little frantic in how you squirm under him, eyes rolling as your hips fight to fuck yourself onto his thrusts. Pitiful whimpers of his name leaving you repeatedly, the only really comprehensive thing you’re able to utter out.

Geto’s orgasm is immediately triggered by yours, he was hoping he’d get to play with you a little more but as soon as he felt the sinful way you gripped him while you came, he was done for. Your cunt pulsating around him milking him for all he’s worth, he’s cumming so much so deeply. His hips flush to yours as he only grinds into you to ride out both your highs.

He doesn’t think he’s ever cum that much in his life and he’s unsure if it’s because it’s you or because he held back for so long. His weight drops to you as he catches his breath, feeling spent and so drunk on your pussy that if he thought too hard about you he’d get hard again.

Your hand taps lightly at his shoulder, words all garbled when you speak, “Sugu, too heavy.”

Shoving his arms under you, he rolls until you’re on top of him. Cock slipping from you in the process and it has you letting out a cute whine.

“It’s leaking out of me,” you warn him.

He groans, “Don’t say that.”

You rest your check to his collarbone, “Why not?”

“I’ll get turned on again.”

Rolling your eyes at him, “You’re an insatiable pervert.”

“You’re not much better.”

His hands tickle up your sides, repeating the motion over, it’s making you feel sleepy. “You’re still worse.”

He just hums at you, apparently not caring to argue back. “You gonna be okay to shower?”

“In a bit… and only if you carry me the whole time.”

He laughs at that, “Sure.”

You draw mindless patterns on his chest with your finger, “So… where are you taking me on my first date?”

𝒂.𝒏. this was actually a request that i got carried away with,, my requests aren't even open i just fucked with the idea that hard hehe.... i hope you all enjoyed and thank you very much for reading !!!

(i recently made a discord for my followers so if you guys are interested in that please check out the pinned page on my blog :3)

[⚠︎] — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.ᐟ do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[greengoblinswifey]

Valentine’s Plans

Rafe had been patient. Too patient. He knew exactly why you’d been acting like this, short replies, annoyed sighs, that little scoff whenever he so much as touched you. Valentine’s Day was in a few days, and he hadn’t asked you to be his Valentine yet.

He had a plan. A good one. But you didn’t know that.

So when he walked past the other Kooks and overheard you saying, “He’s such a pussy. I swear, if he doesn’t ask me, I’m done.”—Rafe saw red.

He bit his tongue, shoving his hands into his pockets. He wanted to call you out right then and there, but he wouldn’t. He’d make sure you felt stupid for ever doubting him.

Dinner was at the nicest restaurant on the island. Private booth, dim lighting, a box waiting on the table before you even sat down. A Vivienne Westwood necklace, because he knew you liked that shit. The cake came out after, white frosting with Be My Valentine? scrawled in red.

Rafe leaned back, watching you take it all in. Now he could be smug.

“Still think I’m a pussy?” he asked.

Your face burned, but you rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“That’s what I thought.” He smirked, nudging the box toward you. “Say yes, or I’m taking that back.”

You huffed but reached for the necklace, letting your fingers run over the silver chain. “Obviously, yes.”

He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to your cheek. “Good girl.”

You thought everything was fine until you got home.

The second you stepped inside, Rafe kicked the door shut behind you, gripping your jaw to tilt your face up.

“Gonna talk shit about me to my friends again?” he murmured, voice low.

You swallowed, pulse spiking. “Rafe—”

He smirked. “No, go ahead. Tell me more about how I’m a pussy.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

That night, you learned never to doubt Rafe Cameron. He made sure of it.

You were beneath him, writhing, your body burning under his touch as his thick cock fucked you deeper into the sheets. His breath was hot against your ear, his voice low and taunting.

“What was it you said?” he murmured, dragging his lips along your jaw, making you shiver. “I’m a pussy, huh?”

You whimpered, your fingers twisting in the fabric beneath you as you felt him pound into your sweet spot. “Rafe—”

His teeth scraped against your skin as he chuckled darkly. “No, no, sweetheart. Say it again.”

You shook your head, your body arching against him. “I didn’t mean it.”

He tsked, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you roughly onto his cock. “Didn’t mean it?” His voice was mocking, teasing. “You sounded pretty fucking sure earlier.”

You whimpered as rolled his hips to meet yours, his hands gripping your body like he owned it. He did.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured. His lips brushed your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “You talk a lot of shit, but look at you now—squirming, whining, completely at my mercy.”

You gasped, your fingers clutching his shoulders as he fucked you even harder.

He smirked against your skin. “Bet you won’t doubt me again, huh?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, sir.”

“Good fucking girl,” he muttered, nipping at your collarbone. “Now, let this be a reminder of who you belong to.”

A hand remained on your hip, gripping you while another went into your hair, pulling your head down to watch as his cock disappeared inside you. He wasn’t going easy, he was fucking the doubt right out of you.

“You wanna fucking doubt me? Huh? Call me a pussy? You can’t even fucking talk. Fucked you dumb, who’s the pussy now?”

You cried out in pain and pleasure, his thrusts unrelenting and hard.

For a moment you thought the lesson was over but you thought wrong. He flipped you onto your stomach, slapping your ass making you wince and pulling it up to him.

He wasted no time burying himself to the hilt inside your wet pussy, the new position making him feel like he was deeper. You cried out, reaching around to put your hand on his chest but he just grabbed it.

He chuckled darkly, pinning your hand behind your back. “Take this fucking dick, you’re gonna learn your fucking lesson tonight.”

He fucked you like he hated you, cock dragging along your walls, stretching you so much you thought he would tear you apart. You could feel him so deep, the tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. All you could do was bury your face into the sheets and moan, unable to form a single coherent word or thought.

“This is exactly how you should be all the time. Fucked out and keeping your mouth fucking shut,” he growled.

He grabbed you by the neck so you were arching off him.

“Do what I say for once and rub that clit so you can cum on my dick. You don’t fucking deserve it but I’m such a good boyfriend, I’ll let you cum.”

Your body jolted in his arms as you rubbed your clit and he gripped your neck even tighter. “Fuck, cum on my cock. Cum on my cock so I can fill this ungrateful pussy up.”

With a loud cry, your body went limp in his arms. Your walls clamped around him, squirting on his dick and your orgasm triggered his own. He moaned in your ear, his load filling you to the brim and your pussy milking him of every drop.

“Good fucking girl. Now you’ll know never to doubt me or call me a fucking pussy again.”

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-three —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 4.5k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. harm to a child. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: clearly I am bad at estimating how long this story will take lol

Alexandre is not as susceptible to pain.

The guard outside his home didn’t register his death, not with Ghost as a shadow at his back. One wrench to his neck, and Kyle plucked the key off his corpse, gently opening the planked door. As the three of them swept the inside, you and Ari hoisted the body in. A sudden crash of breaking glass and the sounds of a struggle made it clear—they got Alexandre. He must have woken up.

But restrained to a dining chair by chains from the slaughterhouse, all he offers up is a bloody tooth on the floor—nothing about Blue or the weapons.

"Brûlez en enfer, pécheurs!"

Ghost snarls and tears a fistful of hair from his scalp. Alexandre only spits more blood, teeth clenched.

"He's wasting our time," you mutter, dread curling in your chest. A glance at the window—the sky could turn deep purple any second. You touch Ghost's elbow. "We should just look for—"

"He'll talk."

Ghost draws the knife. He drives his knuckles into Alexandre’s mouth, smothering the scream as the blade severs his pinky. Blood spills over raw bone. Finally, he writhes—eyes rolling back, knees violently shaking.

"Tell us where everything is, or these go next," Ghost snaps, holding up his middle and ring fingers.

He pulls his fist from his mouth. Alexandre sputters, lips twitching from the pain. Under his breath, he groans, "Sal... Mon enfant."

"What is he saying?" Kyle presses.

Ghost positions the knife at the next digit. "Speak up. English."

Alexandre's eyes threaten to close. He whispers something quieter—

"Salome?" you speak up.

His eyes snap open at the name.

You lower beside Ghost, leaning closer, your eyes darting over his swollen face. "Salome. Your 'enfant.' The child is yours, isn’t it?" A flicker of rage flares in his nostrils, and you quietly press on, "You must be worried about her. She was tending to us, you know. Don’t you want to know if she lives? It'd be a shame if she doesn’t. She was so excited for the baby, especially after losing the first one in the winter. I’m guessing that one was yours, too." You let the words hang, then wet your lips, feigning consideration. "The thing is, it’s been a long night. My memory’s hazy. Can’t recall if I slit her throat or not, but I do remember her begging me to spare her—for the child’s sake."

At this, he jolts. "Tu fais chier—"

Ghost covers his mouth.

You keep your voice smooth. "Maybe if you tell us where the girl and the weapons are, I’ll remember. Otherwise, he’ll kill you, and you’ll die not knowing."

The silence breaks as Ghost drives the knife into the base of his finger. Alexandre grits out, "The girl... I don’t know where my mother kept her. But if sunrise is near... She could be at the chapel now, to prepare."

The one you saw? "How many chapels are there here?" you ask.

"Only one for... offerings."

You glance at Ghost and whisper, "If we can find the road, I could get us back to it."

He nods, not looking away from Alexandre. "The guns," he says. "Where are they?"

"I can... show you."

"You're not showing us shit. Tell us exactly where to find them."

Alexandre holds his gaze. "I could tell you wrong, yes? Waste your time. Or I can show you, and you can kill me if they’re not there."

"Don’t let him play games, Simon," Price calls from behind.

Ghost exhales roughly.

Alexandre looks at you. "But you must tell me of Salome first."

"She's alive," you tell him. "But if you don’t show us where the guns are, it’s not just you who will die."

The chains bite into his wrists as Ghost yanks him up by his soiled lapel. A pistol pressed to his temple, Alexandre stumbles forward, his feet dragging over the corpse at the door before leading you outside. The moonlight feels sharper, casting shadows over the pitted ground as you step carefully beside him, scanning the area. No more alarms yet. But when the guards change shifts, that won’t last.

No one speaks as he leads you around the pasture and barn, toward the back, where the silhouette of a small shed takes shape in the darkness. As you near, a three-tuned call cuts through the air, beckoning Alexandre's gaze to the sky, a soft murmur escaping his lips: "La tourterelle chante pour toi."

"Shut up."

Ghost strikes the back of his head with the gun to silence him.

You stop in front of the shed. It is only just bigger than the one you used to sleep in.

"Is this it?"

"Yes," Alexandre nods. "Inside."

Kyle is the one to kick open the door. As expected, the smell of rusty metal hits your nose as you take in the clutter of rakes, shovels, and scythes. There is a wheelbarrow against the wall with nothing inside but residual soil. No weapons in sight.

Ghost cocks the pistol. "You're fucking around with your kid's life—"

"Under the floor," Alexandre flinches, then juts his chin at the planks of wood, "The extra guns, ammo. It is under there."

Ghost shoves the gun into Kyle’s hand. Without hesitation, Kyle takes over, keeping it steady as Ghost drops to his knees, running his fingers over the floorboards. A sharp knock—hollow. He drives his knife between the slats and pries them open.

The unmistakable glint of metal catches your eye. Rifles. Green and gold cartridges, too. Ghost inhales sharply, tearing up more of the floor. Price moves in, yanking out boxes, sorting through the ammo they need to load up. You linger by the door, glancing back over your shoulder. The guns are yours. Now, you'll need to find the chapel. Maybe Blue isn’t there yet. Maybe you can get there first.

Lost in thought, you almost miss it—that softly cooing dove, the kind you used to wake up to in England. Again, Alexandre mutters in French beside you where Kyle quiets him with a shove at his shoulder. Then you detect a shift in the air—no, you squint and realize it is movement in the grass by the barn.

Alexandre suddenly shouts, "La tourterelle chante pour toi!"

The echo of his words is followed by the crack of a pistol. Kyle’s shot strikes his head, and his body crumples at your feet.

You whip around, panic flaring in your chest as you look at Ghost. "Someone was there. He said something to warn them. They're going to wake up the others!"

Ghost's glare snaps towards Kyle. "The gunshot probably already did."

Kyle releases a growl. "Fuck, I didn't think—"

"Take this," Price interrupts, throwing a loaded rifle at Kyle. 

For you, Nereida, and Ari, a small handgun.

But by the time your finger seeks out the trigger, you hear a myriad of voices shout from the barn.

B

Blue sits at a small table. Across from her is that old woman, eating silently. Only the sound of metal on ceramic, and gentle chewing, fills the dining room. Blue's teeth mechanically grind a tart, red berry into pulp, then let it slide down her throat, her eyes never leaving the white plate. On the faintly reflective surface, a years-old memory blurs into focus.

She sits in the back of her dad’s truck, her small hands folded in her lap. The air is thick with the smell of cigarette smoke. Her eyes are fixed on the passing buildings and people, the streets beginning to feel unfamiliar. Then, her dad mutters something low under his breath, the tires screeching as he sharply veers into a petrol station.

He unbuckles and slams the front door, moving quickly around the truck to help her out. "Come on, kid," he says quietly, lifting her up gently before setting her on the ground. Her hand slips instinctively into his.

"Don’t look at anyone," he mutters as he tugs her toward the small food mart.

"Why, daddy?" she whispers up at him.

"Because I said so."

"Why are we here?"

"I need to get something."

"What for?"

The silence stretches between them, and a cold knot of fear tightens in her stomach. He doesn’t answer, and she can’t remember how they got here. She had been in her bedroom, where her mother had told her to stay. There was shouting through the door before it flung open, then her father grabbed her, and suddenly, her mom’s voice faded behind them.

Her father guides her through the aisles, pulling items off shelves. She tries not to look at the old man nearby, her eyes fixed on the hem of his jacket, her fingers nervously tugging at it.

"Why isn’t my mum coming with us?" she asks.

He doesn't answer. They move to the cash register, and after he pays, they head back to the truck. Her eyes sting. She rips her hand from his and shakes her head, her voice breaking.

"I want to go back, daddy."

"You're not going back."

"I want to!"

He kneels in front of her, gripping her chin as her tears spill. A woman filling her car glances over, and he lowers his voice so only she can hear. "I know you're scared, but listen to me, Amelia. Remember that game we play? The one where the bad guys are after us, and we have to get away from them?"

She nods weakly, tears streaking down her face.

"What do we call each other when we play that game, baby?"

"Blue and Ghost," she answers, her voice small.

"Right. We’re playing it again, okay? But this time, it’s not a game. Right now, you’re Blue, and I’m Ghost. You listen to everything I say so I can keep you safe. Do you understand, Blue?"

She struggles to breathe.

"Tell me, do you understand?"

"Daddy, I—"

"No. Not daddy. Ghost."

"Ghost... please, I want to go home."

His voice repeats her new name, over and over, as he shakes her chin, and she cries harder. She looks over at the woman filling her car as she fades into something strange—milky eyes and grey skin—and when Blue looks back to her father, he’s gone. All that remains is the white plate, stained with red raspberry juice.

"Blue."

Blue lifts her gaze, her eyes locking on the old woman across from her. The woman's leathery skin shifts to grey in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. She chews a berry slowly, takes a sip of milk, then speaks. "Tell me. Why do you call yourself this?"

She struggles to pull her voice to the present, looking back at the plate and quietly answering after a moment, "It is... it is the name I've used to survive."

"You are a strong girl, that much is clear," Maman compliments idly. "But sometimes, God does not want us to fight. There is strength in acceptance."

When breakfast is finished, Eloise brushes her hair until it’s buttery soft down her back. Then, they leave. Blue smells the dew on the grass, her toes curling in her shoes to endure the pain of keeping up with them. No matter how lightly she spreads her weight, the wounds split wider, blood silently squishing beneath her soles. Any blood she left behind would be invisible in the dark, but Ghost always noticed things she never could. She picks at her fingernails as they reach a road, which reminds her of when they were walking through, seeing a few abandoned cars left at the sides.

They walk for some time until she smells the Greys. The rot is pungent in the brisk air. Then, she hears the low hum of hymns coming from a small building—a church. She only knows this because of a deep memory with the old woman she called grandmother who used to take her to one. The stained glass glows faintly with dim golden light inside. They approach the large door, and Blue stands outside it, her knees trembling, but her shoulders managing to stay upright.

Maman glances down at her, hand resting on the door. "In God's presence, Amelia, there is no need to survive anymore. You will accept his punishment—and his forgiveness. Tell me, do you understand?"

Blue grits her teeth.

The voice edges softer. "Do you understand, Amelia?"

"I understand."

Behind her, Eloise takes hold of her wrists and ties them together with what feels like prickly twine.

The door creaks open under Maman’s push, revealing rows of pews and cold stone walls. Blue swallows hard, tasting her own heartbeat in her throat as she takes in everything she can before stepping inside. The narrow aisle spills out into an altar, where the same two Greys they muzzled the other day are chained to the floor, their snarls and moans adding a discordant layer to the throaty hymns echoing from the right side of the church. There, the veiled women sit, their heads bowed. On the left, the men. A bony hand presses at her back, urging her forward. Through the fog of fear, she counts them: just three men, plus Pierre—the one from before—standing beside the leashed Greys.

The lingering scent of old blood mixes with the fresh, sharp tang of melting candlewax. Her footsteps are small, barely making a sound against the stone, and the pain seems to fade into nothingness, until she misteps around a scurrying rat. A sharp pang burns through her foot, forcing her teeth to grind. Tears well in her eyes, but she doesn’t let a single one fall, her focus locked on her surroundings. The flickering candles on the altar, the glint of Maman's knife as she unsheathes it, the flicker of hunger in the endless moans—each step draws her closer to the Greys.

When she finally stops, she stands between them, the chains and muzzles the only thing keeping their mouths from finding her flesh.

As Maman begins to murmur in French, a fleeting thought crosses her mind: Can her mother see her now, dressed in a beautiful gown, having grown into her features, even though the shape of her face still carries the strength of her father's? Can she see the fear she can no longer contain, spilling into violent breaths that tear through her chest?

"Venez vous nourrir de sa chair pure, et en retour, bénissez-nous avec plus de nourriture pour l'hiver et des bébés en bonne santé pour vos nouveaux peuples."

Beneath Maman's words, Blue hears something. A distant, piercing sound that reminds her of a gunshot.

Dad?

She glances at the door, then at the faces around her, but no one else seems to have heard it.

A cold hand snatches her arm, the unwounded one, and Blue whimpers. Then she is turned around to face the pews.

"Une coupure pour les faire festoyer!"

The knife draws a matching cut, the release of blood making the Greys jerk within their restraints.

A man stands and unlocks one Grey's chains, while Pierre handles the other. The screech of metal cuts through the air, and with a shout, the creatures are freed. Blue’s heart slams in her chest. Maman's low, cruel laugh reaches Blue's ears just as she drops to the ground and scrambles backward, bumping into the altar and making it rattle. She screams when rotten hands clamp around her ankles—instinct taking over. She wriggles free of her blood-soaked shoes and kicks them as far as possible toward the people in front of her.

The shoes hit the ground with a quiet squelch, and the Greys snap toward them, momentarily confused by their scent of blood. A veiled woman screams, her dress now stained with a red footprint, and the other women scramble for the door as the Greys hurl through the aisle. In that fleeting moment of distraction, Blue pushes herself up, hands shaking as she clutches the twine binding her wrists. She holds it over the candle, praying the small flame will burn through it.

"Come on, come on."

Just before the twine can snap, a hand yanks at her shoulder to spin her around.

"Stupid girl!"

Blue growls like a cornered animal and spits into Maman’s eyes. Sneering, Maman slashes the knife across Blue’s cheek, sending fresh blood down to her lips. The Greys, no longer distracted, screech as they again zero in on the scent of her bleeding wounds.

Through the pain, Blue strains with all her strength, forcing her wrists apart until the charred twine snaps, freeing her hands. Maman grabs her by the dress, but Blue blindly reaches for the only thing within reach—the candle—and jams the burning wick into the old woman's face.

"Fuck you!"

It is enough to make her writhe in pain, giving Blue the opening to snatch the knife from her hand. With a wrecked cry, she stabs the old woman’s throat, then kicks her in the stomach just as the Greys reach them. Maman’s mouth lets out a final gurgling, blood-soaked cry, and Blue watches, panting hard, as the Greys grab her and tear their teeth into her torn neck. 

"Maman!"

Pierre shouts, rushing over. 

Blue bolts away from them, her soaked feet nearly slipping. She shoves a screaming woman out of her way near the door and bursts outside into the breaking dawn. That's when she hears more gunshots, clearer in the open air, and spots a distant plume of smoke. Without hesitation, she runs in that direction.

T

The first round of gunfire kicks up dirt at your heels before you can even react. Ghost yanks you into a sprint, pulling you away from the shed. Men pour through the barn’s back door, giving chase. Somewhere in the chaos, you hear Price’s voice barking orders, his gunfire answering theirs—but there’s no time to look over your shoulder. Ghost grips your elbow and drags you behind an old tractor, shoving you into cover as bullets whizz through the air.

The others tumble beside you, Price forcing Nereida's head low behind the large tire. 

"There’s nowhere else to take cover," Kyle curses. He and Ghost peek over the tractor, firing off shots, but the sound of pounding boots grows closer. There are too many of them, and not enough time to stop their advance.

You swallow hard, heart pounding, and risk a quick glance around the tractor’s hood. The haystacks are right there, and you remember how dry they felt around your ankles when you covered the corpses. You grab Ghost by the wrist and pull your mouth to his ear so he can hear you.

"The hay is flammable—can you light it somehow?"

His jaw sets in understanding when your words register. He closes an eye and redirects his aim, instead firing rapidly at the base of one of the stacks. Stray sparks leap into the air, and for a moment, your stomach sinks when nothing happens. Then, the straw catches—one spark, then another, and the flames grow fast, swallowing vegetation along the ground. Thick, black smoke whips into the air.

"Il y a putain de feu!"

"Let's move!" Ghost shouts.

You're running again, using the distraction to your advantage, the veiled hood flying off your hair. The sudden silence in the gunfire gives you a moment to look around, and with a rush of terror, you realize that a sliver of sunlight has crept over the horizon. The sky above is no longer the pure black of night. 

"Simon, we have to get to her!"

"Where's the chapel?"

"I don't know! I-I need to see the road to find it."

The farm stretches out in every direction, the lack of light making it hard to see anything far off. You stop for a moment, trying to orient yourself. Maybe if you could just—

Another shot hits the ground, close enough to feel the heat on your toes. You barely catch a glimpse of the men still chasing you before a cloud of smoke bursts from the ground. It’s not from the fire he started—it’s a smoke bomb, just like the one they used to disorient you the first time.

The smoke stings your eyes and lungs. You clamp your mouth shut to avoid breathing it in.

"Drop to the ground!" Ghost growls in your ear, loud enough to hear over the gunfire you can only hope is coming from Kyle and Price. 

You obey, hitting the ground hard with his arm firm around your waist. He grips your dress, guiding you as you crawl through the smoke’s underbelly, where the air is clearer. Down here, you can see just enough to navigate forward, the blind gunfire whizzing harmlessly overhead. But as Ghost hauls you to your feet, a new panic grips you—you can no longer see the others.

"Where are they?" 

Through the tears in your eyes, you can't make out anything past the smoke at your backs. 

"Price can handle it. Come on."

For a brief second, you hesitate, torn between ensuring they’re alright and following him—but the encroaching sunrise makes the decision for you. There is nothing else you can do but keep running, hoping something will look familiar as you weave between nothing but stalks of wheat and the small homes. You’ve gained enough distance to escape their line of fire, and when you look back, the flames by the barn seem to have stopped swelling, but that is all you make out before something rams into your side.

"Femme pécheresse, regarde ce que tu as fait!"

The stray guard wrestles your body to the grass, a blade at your throat slicing a shallow welt into the skin, but he is ripped off you within seconds. Ghost breaks the man's neck, steals the pistol from his belt, then tosses it to you. He takes your free hand to help you up, and only as your finger smoothes over the trigger do you realize your other gun is gone.

He turns to keep moving, and part of you wants to sob in rage that you still don't know if you're even headed the right way. Then you see it—something in the grass. You grab his hand. "Look there. What is that?"

His gaze follows yours to the distinctive red stain embedded into the ground. Faint, but there. He leans down to touch it. "It's fresh."

"It could be hers, Simon," you urge.

He stalks forward, fingers hovering before pressing into a faint footprint. "It's her size. This way."

Blood smears lead you to the main road, and your chest tightens at the sight of the cars. This was the route through Fleurbaix. You recognize it. You scan both directions, spotting a white BMW in the distance—a flash of memory.

"I peed by that car. The chapel’s over there," you say, pointing to the stone roof barely visible ahead.

The sudden pierce of a scream confirms it.

B

Blue barely manages to get far before the sound of booted steps echoes behind her. She flits her head around in panic, ducking beneath the first car she sees and holding her breath. The distinct rustle of chains, accompanied by a snarl, unfurls her eyes. She glances up into the warped side mirror of another vehicle, catching sight of a cloaked figure. That man who'd helped Maman—Pierre—is looking around, one of the Greys in tow, its muzzle back on.

"Come out, petite fille. You cannot hide from a démon. Not when your smell is so strong."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she uses the sleeve of her dress to soundlessly wipe her bloody cheek as if that might help but pitifully realizes her feet and arm are even worse. The movement causes her bare foot to dig into a sharp rock, and she bites her tongue hard to keep from crying out. The footsteps halt, then switch directions.

When the Grey lunges toward the car, Blue leaps out and runs blindly, adrenaline pushing past the dizziness. Pierre shouts and follows, the Grey leading him, its draw to flesh tracking her even as she tries to weave behind the rose bushes. Spotting a tree, she glances over her shoulder one last time before hugging the narrow trunk and using all her strength to climb. What’s usually easy becomes a struggle as pain shoots up her legs when her feet try to find purchase on the bark. Her grip slips, and she falls hard onto her back.

Before she can lift to her elbows, a frothy mouth leaps in front of her face. She screams, writhing beneath the muzzled Grey, as Pierre hovers over her. "You could have earned God's grace, but instead, you killed her." Bitterness laces his voice. "Maman would want you dead, no matter what form the offering takes."

Blue tries scrambling backward, but a boot steps on her freshly cut wrist, twisting around and effectively pinning her. She chokes on a sob, fingers trembling in the dirt below her. The man reaches down to unscrew the muzzle, and in this moment she prays to whatever stupid god there might be, that Ari was right, that being eaten fully is better than the infection from a mere bite. 

She screws her eyes shut, bracing for the pain, but instead, her ears ring from a sharp sound. A weight crashes down on top of her, and when she opens her eyes, she wonders if she’s been drugged again. There, in her vision, is her father—his bare torso covered in blood and grime, his face contorted with rage as he shoves Pierre into the tree.

"Blue!"

It’s Twix. She shoves the Grey’s corpse off of Blue and scoops her into her arms. Blue freezes, unable to return the hug, her gaze fixed on her father as he rips a knife from his belt and stabs it into Pierre's hands, pinning them above his head to the bark. 

When Pierre tries to kick him, Ghost shoots both his knees. 

"Seigneur, s'il vous plaît, épargne-moi dans l'au-delà!"

The plea is choked off as Ghost rips the lower mandible free, the jagged bone tearing through flesh, leaving the tongue to flop uselessly, twitching and gasping for air. Twix's arms tighten around her, urging her to hide her eyes within her neck, but Blue keeps watching as Ghost snarls rabidly, finishing the kill by slamming the butt of his rifle into Pierre's skull, caving it in with a loud crack.

Only when he turns around, shoulders heaving, does she realize it’s truly him—and not a dream. He kneels on the ground, and Twix releases her into his chest, the solid feel of it absorbing the tremors that wrack through her limbs as she cries. Ghost cups the back of her hair, and despite the pained breath in his chest, he lifts her up, clutching her close. Her nose presses into his neck, struggling to breathe as she inhales the scent of him. 

"D-daddy," she croaks.

"It's me, it's me."

"I-I'm alive."

Something raw pushes through his teeth. "Fuck—you're okay, baby girl. I'm here. I've got you. I've got you." His fingers tighten against her scalp. "Hold tight to me. I won't let you go this time."

"Sal... My child." "You're a pain in the ass—" "The turtle dove sings for you." "The turtle dove sings for you!" "Come feed on her pure flesh, and in return, bless us with more food for the winter and healthy babies for your new people." "A cut to make them feast!" "There's a fucking fire!" "Sinful woman, look what you've done!" "Come out, little girl. You cannot hide from a demon. Not when your smell is so strong." "Lord, please spare me in the afterlife!"

[maskedbyghost]

Hallucinated Simon giving reader an orgasm would be something

anon is talking about this SMUT, MDNI, +18

You know what? Hell yeah.

Simon was MIA. They never found a body. Just his tags and some blood, enough to tell a story no one wanted to hear. You buried an empty casket, let the folded flag sit heavy in your arms, and listened to the eulogies spoken by people who didn’t know him like you did. And then you tried to move on.

Tried.

But his absence could be felt deep into your bones. Some nights, you swore you heard his footsteps in the hall. Other nights, you turned in bed, half asleep, expecting warmth beside you. Your hands found only cold sheets. Always cold sheets.

Until tonight.

A sharp pull in your stomach dragged you from sleep, your breath catching in your throat before you even knew why. The room was dark, but there was something—someone—between your legs, broad hands gripping your thighs, keeping you open.

The first stroke of a tongue had you gasping.

It felt real. Too real. The slow way he worked you open and that deep groan vibrating against your skin like he was savoring every second. Your fingers curled into the sheets, heart hammering. This wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t be.

But it had to be.

Because Simon was dead.

Your head spun, pleasure crashing into disbelief. “This isn’t real,” you whispered, voice shaky. “I’m hallucinating again.”

A rough chuckle. Lips dragged up your inner thigh, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “Tha' so?”

That voice. His voice.

Your breath hitched, fingers moving on instinct to bury themselves in his short, unruly hair. He was warm; the scrape of stubble against your skin sent a shudder right through you.

“I—” The words turned into a whimper as he sucked bruises into your skin, his tongue pressing deep, working you over like he had all the time in the world.

It felt too good.

And right now, you didn’t care if it was real or not.

Your thighs trembled as pleasure was overwhelming, pulling you under until you shattered with a cry of his name. He didn’t stop, didn’t let go until you were boneless beneath him.

Then, slowly, he climbed up your body, pressing soft kisses along your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone. By the time his lips met yours, your hands were already gripping his face, desperate to keep him there.

And he let you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your face. His eyes, dark and endless, held you in place.

“I’m home, love,” he murmured. “Finally home.”

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

i'm just gonna tag all of you that wanted me dead after part 1 <333

@daydreamerwoah @nightunite @dahighqueen @dao-shay @lay-z @grendolin @anythingneverythingnstuffs @massivescissorsthingperson @armycaratlover @fruitymoonbeams-blog @ghostslollipop @canyonmooncreations @sadl1lsunshine @maskfiend @holycowboytiger @postm0rt3m @goochfiddler99 @m33pl0v3 @lemonfreak97-blog @jasontoddsgirl81 @prettygirlwhoreadsatnite @acosmisted @fey-rouse @stillinracooncity @iwyzz @lialucis @skeletonsucker @kylies-love-letter @star-buck-barnes @lets-turn-and-burn

[luvs4matt]

“𝐃- 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘” 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄 didn’t slow down the pace his fingers were moving at “shh, just focus on my lips, yeah?” his lips were everywhere on you, your neck, your lips, your collarbones, your cheeks, and more.

he didn’t want to stop, he loved hearing all of your noise, your noises letting him know how good he makes you feel.

you squirmed, so overstimulated “p- please..! daddy!” he hushes you again, covering your mouth with his hand “don’t focus on it baby, just focus on me, yeah?” you whined, lewd sounds coming from between your legs “kissing it all away, making you feel so good”

he kissed both of your nipples before moving back to your cheeks “all better, right?” you were so noisy, he loved it. the overstimulation slowly turned back to pleasure, allowing your orgasm to build once again.

“clenching ‘round my fingers so tight baby” your gummy walls were fluttering around his fingers “gon- wanna..”

“wanna what pretty girl? wanna cum?” you nod “ask me, use your words just like we talked about” you struggled to speak anything but moans “c’mon, you can do it”

“w- wanna.. cum f- f’you daddy!” you were absolutely dumb on his fingers, and his lips kissing all over your body didn’t help. “cum honey, wanna see that pretty face while you cum”

it only took a few more pumps of his fingers before you came around them. you were so loud as the pleasure washed over you “you’re so loud baby, so responsive. i wonder how noisy you would be if my fingers were my cock, oh you’d be so fucking loud”

your eyes rolled back as he kept going, wanting at least one more out of you “such a dumb little baby..”

© luvs4matt

this was requested by @sturnschris, and the idea was originally by @blahbel668 HERE

— kissing it all away , dilf!matthew sturniolo

[wandasaura]

IVE GOT PLANS FOR YOU

summary — natasha has plans for you, and they involve a window, fake blood, and a earth-shattering orgasm before a valentine’s day party

warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, fingering, hair pulling, mentioning of spanking, strap-on use, strap-on receiving (r), clit stimulation, window sex, one instance of name calling, praise kink, brief/semi orgasm control, begging, dirty talk, mention of possessiveness, hickies, biting, natasha in a suit, costume party so obviously she’s ghostface, 18+ minors dni

The lights were low as you paced the lavish ballroom, sleek kitten heels that contributed to your rather scandalous outfit thumping against the tile flooring that was sticky from spilled mixers and cheap beer despite the party not even beginning yet. The guests that you and Natasha had invited weeks ago were set to be arriving within the next hour – a few of Natasha’s friends and their respective plus ones; all people whom you’d met on prior occasions and more-or-less liked – however a twinge of uncertainty gripped you viciously as the evening drew later and the haunting uncertainty of drunken mingling hung above your head tauntingly. Things were still new with Natasha; fragile. Even if you’d been friends for nearly a decade, even if you’d been welcomed into her group of chosen family years ago when she’d found out you spend the winter holidays alone and had insisted that you join her and Maria on an undisclosed farm in Iowa, this was the first time she’d be introducing you as her girlfriend, and the thought of her friends, namely Laura and Maria, not agreeing with her decision to lean into the love she held for you, rattled your typically reserved exterior fiercely. It had been a long drawn out love affair, but the end of your passionate avoidance had been sweet and more than earned if you were allowed to offer your biased opinion. You’d break into a million pieces if the friends that she cherished didn’t agree with your romantic endeavors. Natasha wouldn’t care if they spoke out of turn and criticized her decision to finally give genuine romantic love a chance, but you would. You’d promised yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t come between her and the happiness she more than deserved, but if her friends didn’t think that you met her standards, or if they simply didn’t approve of her dating somebody that undoubtedly would drown before they learned to match the pace of the current that life as a superhero created, you’d walk away without any hesitation. Natasha Romanoff has endured enough pain and injustice in her life, you wouldn’t further contribute to the harrowing pain that kept her up in the middle of the night, even if that meant sacrificing the one thing you’d ever been fully sure that you wanted.

“If you think any harder, you’re going to pop a vessel in that pretty little brain I love so much.” In the years that you’d known each other, Natasha had learned not to sneak up on you, but even as she assured that the heavy soles of her leather loafers made soft thudding noises as they padded against the tile flooring in the ballroom that was attentively decorated in sleek purple and orange decorations, you’d been entirely unaware of how she’d slipped in through the main entrance and set her eyes on you fondly. You’d nearly jumped out of your skin when her velvety voice interrupted the spiraling thoughts that had consumed you for the better half of an hour now, but as you settled with the realization that it was only your girlfriend coming up behind you, the comfort of her gravelly voice washed away some of the uncertainty that brought a clammy sheen to your palms. “Stop worrying so much about what they’re going to say, they already love you and you know that.” Natasha didn’t have to ask what had you so far gone in your head that you hadn’t even heard her come inside, she’d known from the first glimpse of your rigid frame across the room. Even if your romantic relationship was new, your platonic relationship had withstood fallen government agencies, aliens on Earth, and near death encounters that had both of you grasping for straws trying to keep any sliver of normalcy intact however you could. It had been Thanos that finally brought the two of you together, even if twinges of romantic possibility had existed for years before she impulsively swan-dove off a cliff on an alien planet with only the hope that Clint would find a way to get her back to you. She knows everything about you, but more than that, you know everything about her. You know that when she smiles with her teeth, it’s because she’s uncomfortable, as odd as that had initially been to wrap your head around. You know that when she seeks you out in the middle of the night in an oversized hoodie, she’d been woken up by paralyzing fear. You know that she likes cinnamon in her hot chocolate, and that when she looks at you the way she is now, with her chin tilted downward and her eyes set firmly on yours, she’s trying her hardest not to stare down at your chest where your nipples pebble beneath thin material.

“They love me as your friend, they could hate me as your girlfriend. I mean, I know nothing about how to survive in your world, Natasha. I’m a liability. What if another alien – like Loki! – comes to Earth and you have to get out, but you’re held back because I don’t know what’s important to bring to a safe-house. I mean, really, just caring about me at all could be the reason you don’t make it if something-” The second you’d started vocalizing the worries that plagued you, it had been practically impossible to cut yourself off, your eyes become glassy with that far away gleam Natasha hated. That had always been where you differed. Where Natasha was calculated, you were spontaneous. Where she had a plan for everything, even the miniscule things like grocery shopping in a crowded stripmall, you flew by the seat of your pants. You’d never needed to have a plan before you allowed her world to become intertwined with yours, but Natasha’s entire life had revolved around having multiple at a time. She’d come to know how to silence your anxieties in the years that had led up to this current moment, and without a moment of hesitation, her lips crashed into yours, and she allowed her blood splattered palms to frame your face as her teeth sank into your lower lip, nibbling on the pink-hued skin in a way that had your eyes fluttering closed and your fingers digging into the lapels of her blazer yearning for more. She’d wanted to be Ghostface for the Valentines Day costume party Pepper scammed her into hosting, but Natasha was nothing if not elaborate, and somehow, she’d constructed the costume from an old suit that had been abandoned in the back of her closet for years, the plastic mask that laid around somewhere displaced for the time being the only authentic element of her attire. You didn’t care for how she most definitely clashed with the existing image of the movie’s villain, thinking the fitted suit and the cuffed sleeves fit her exterior perfectly.

When she pulled away, only because you’d stopped breathing to instead attempt to match the weight conveyed in her kiss, her eyebrows furrowed in contemplation as she cradled your face sweetly. You frowned curiously, head tilting to the side as you tried to figure out where her thoughts had drifted to in such a short span of time. “What’s my name?” The words fell off her lips just as heavily as your anxious rambling had slipped into the air between the both of you, only Natasha’s eyes hadn’t glazed over like she was trapped in a memory and couldn’t decipher where she was. The enchanting green color that you’d spent so many nights gazing into were dark now, twisted with something wicked that was yet to be discovered by you. It never failed to amaze you how even after years of truly knowing each other, you could still be thrown off by her simplest of expressions.

You pulled away from her lips regretfully, your palm on her cheek framing the expression clouding her sparkling features. Shades of red and pink were thrown around the room, but nothing looked as sweet as her red hair falling over her shoulder in waves, catching rays of light that refracted off of skyscrapers in the distance. “Natasha.” You breathed dreamily, dazed by her gentle love that gripped you tight.

“No, what’s my name when it’s just us?” Natasha backed you up against the window forcefully, the air slipping from your lungs as your shoulder blades thumped against frigid glass before your spine met the same fate, her hands on your hips now keeping you still. A low moan slipped off of your lips, eyes that were once ablaze with anxiety now sparkling with lust as you understood what she was getting at.

When you didn’t answer, too drunk on the passion behind her glimmering jewel eyes, a hand left your hip to cradle your face, but in seconds that grip became steeled on your jaw and your eyes watered as you trembled beneath her touch. “Daddy.” The plea fell off of your tongue pathetically, your head lulling to the side when she loosened her grip.

“You gonna be a good girl for me? Let Daddy play with you before her friends get here?” She traced the side of your face, drawing her nail down your warm skin until goosebumps collected on your arms. You preened beneath her attention, trying to follow the path of her fingers but in a second that delicate brush against your cheek turned into a tight grip on your hair, spinning you around like a ragdoll until your chest was flush against the windows, your shaky breath fogging the glass as you gazed down beneath you. A gasp fell off of your lips when cold hands that were splattered in fake blood because Natasha Romanoff could never do anything casually despite trying to portray indifference at all times snuck up your thighs, creeping beneath the hem of your dress until they found damp fabric to taunt. “Gonna let me clear that pretty head? Make it all fuzzy and sweet the way I like? Oh, I’ve got plans for you, baby girl.” You could’ve rolled your eyes at the cocky reiteration of ghostface’s line, but you were otherwise focused on something else.

“Nat–” You breathed, a sweet groan falling off of your lips when she pulled at your hair again, the rest of her name falling off your tongue as you tried to dig your nails into slick glass.

“That’s not my name, Princess.” She teased, grinding her hips into yours. Your surprised gasp fogged the window up more, your view of the street below obstructed now. But you weren’t. Your body wasn’t. Natasha wasn’t. If anyone looked up, glanced toward the windows for even a second, they’d see your intoxicating frame flush against the glass. They’d see your knuckles bent, practically white, desperate for a grip on something. They’d notice the fog on the windows, but also the way your chin was lifted away from the surface, held taught by pale hands. They’d see the way your dress rises every time Natasha grounds her hips into your core. They’d see her pulling this reaction from your willing body. “Do you feel that, baby? Can you feel Daddy’s cock?”

“Mhm.” You hummed desperately, your eyes pinched shut tightly as your body became putty beneath her touch. Your knees threatened to buckle beneath the pleasure of Natasha’s touch when she pulled your sodden panties to the side, hiking your dress up beyond your hips until nothing kept your core from her touch or the eyes of strangers below you. A strangled cry slipped off of your lips when her fingers, two of them, plunged into your sopping core. Your walls strained to accept the squeeze, fluttering around her second knuckle as she worked them deeper into you. “P-Please. Just fuck me, Nat.”

“When are you going to learn, sweetheart? It’s Daddy to you.” A hand slapped against the globe of your ass before her fingers slipped out from your tempting heat. She smeared the stringy evidence of your arousal against the insides of your thighs, her nails leaving trails of red as she marks her claim on your body. If her friends look closely tonight, then they’ll all see the evidence of her on your body. It’s what she wants though. You’ve known it since the moment she tangled her fingers into your hair.

You don’t know when she unzipped her pants, but between the second clap to your ass and her teeth sinking into the side of your neck, the strap that was once hidden beneath the confines of her slacks pressed firmly to your weeping entrance. A tilt of her hips had you weak against the window, a loud whine tearing through your chest as she set a brutal pace without warning. “Daddy!” You called out to her, a pleasure-filled twinge to your breathy plea as one hand reached back to slap against her ribs, reaching for a hand to hold as every nerve in your body sparked to life.

Her hips slapped against yours every time she thrusted into you, the grooves along the strap creating friction against that sweet spot inside of you. You gasped when her fingers joined the mix between your legs, playing with your clit like she knew your every tell and she did. The relationship might be new, but the sex wasn’t, and she knew your every tell and twitch without even thinking about them anymore. “Oh, you’re getting close for me pretty girl? Squeezing me so tight.”

“Please! Please, Daddy!” You begged mindlessly, not a single thought in your head besides how good it felt to have her slamming into you without restraint. When she hit a particular spot, you saw stars, and your head lulled back onto her shoulder. Her hand came up to frame your throat, pulling you flush against her chest as she demanded you hold it. “I can’t! Daddy, I can’t.”

“You’re going to.” She seethed, snapping her hips up into you harder. Her pace was punishing, and the hand between your legs didn’t quit despite her warning. Right as you considered giving into the pleasure and breaking her rules, her thumb hooked onto your jaw, pulling your lips to meet hers in a needy embrace. “Cum for me, baby. Make a mess on my cock. Such a fucking slut. Getting fucked in front of a window, right before all of our friends come over. God, I love you.”

You moaned into her mouth as you came undone around her strap, bucking into her chest before you collapsed entirely, but Natasha wasn’t done with you yet. Her pace only quickened, her arms the only thing holding you upright as she chased her own high. It felt euphoric, every snap of her hips, every point of sharp pressure along your hips as her nails dug into you. To be used by her was to be loved so fully you didn’t even know how to process the sensation.

“Good girl. Good girl.” She choked out between raged moans, her grip on you softening as she finally wavered. She leaned up against your body, trapping you against the window as she laughed breathlessly, kissing you sweetly as she calmed down. “I love you.”

“I kinda figured as much when you asked me to be your valentine.” You teased, cheeks flush and eyes glassy as you gazed up at her dreamily. “I love you.”

[urmum-lovesme]

Toxic!Rafe when he gets jealous. . .

The night had been a blur of music and laughter, a house party filled with people she didn't really know. Y/N was just being polite, talking to the new guy in town- someone whose family her parents had mentioned working with- and she felt like she had to. Her parents had spoken about how nice the guy’s parents were, so Y/N did her part, listening to him babble about things that didn’t matter, keeping the conversation going.

She wasn’t flirting, just being nice.

“So, have you lived here your whole life?” Logan asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Yeah,” Y/N said with a small smile. “Not much changes around here, but I guess you’ll find that out soon enough.”

Logan chuckled, “Good to know. So, what do people even do for fun?”

Y/N opened her mouth to answer, but something in the air shifted- like the atmosphere had thickened, weighed down by a force she couldn’t ignore. She knew before even turning her head.

Rafe.

Her eyes flickered across the room, and there he was- leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring at her. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was tight, his fingers flexing at his sides.

He was pissed.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, and she quickly looked away, refocusing on Logan. “Uh, well, the beach is a big deal here,” she said, trying to push past the way her pulse had suddenly started to race.

“Boating, parties, stuff like that.”

But even as she spoke, she felt Rafe’s eyes burning into her. She glanced back and he was still staring, but now his expression had darkened- his jaw clenched so tight she could see the muscle twitch. She knew that look. Her breath hitched as he suddenly turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

Shit.

She excused herself quickly, barely even hearing Logan’s response as she pushed through the crowd, her heart hammering. She knew better than to let him leave like that.

She called out to him, but he was already halfway to his car. Her heart started to pound, a cold knot of dread forming in her stomach.

“Rafe!”

She called, jogging after him. He didn’t look back. By the time she reached the car, he was slamming the door shut with a force that echoed through the quiet street. Without thinking, Y/N grabbed the handle and yanked the door open just as he was starting the engine. She could hear the engine rev, and the headlights cut into the darkness as his hands gripped the wheel. “Rafe, please wait,” she said, her voice shaky,

“I- I was just being polite.”

“Get in the fucking car.”

He didn’t even look at her, his voice flat and laced with venom. Her heart pounded harder, her hands trembling as she slid into the seat, buckling her seatbelt as quickly as she could. She could feel his anger radiating off of him, thick and suffocating. He wasn’t going to let this go easily. As he slammed his foot on the gas, the car jolted forward, tires screeching against the pavement. Y/N’s grip tightened on the handle of the door, the fear mounting inside her. The street passed in a blur as they drove down the road, and Y/n couldn't stop herself from gazing over at the speedometer,

“Rafe… slow down,”

She said, her voice shaky but firm. She could hear his heavy breathing beside her, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. “You think that shit was funny?” His voice was low, seething.

“You think you're funny, huh? Talking to him like that?”

Her stomach twisted as she realized what was happening- he was high. She could see the haze in his eyes, the way his pupils were dilated. The anger was consuming him, and she was at the center of it. “Rafe, please,” she said softly, trying to calm him down.

“I was just talking to him. I didn’t do anything wrong, you know I’d never-”

“-no,” he interrupted, his voice cold and sharp.

“You were being a cheating fucking whore.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, the sting of his words cutting deep, but she wasn’t surprised anymore. He’d said things like this before. He always did when he was angry or high. Still, hearing it from him again hurt like hell. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

“I wasn’t—”

“The way you smiled at him? The way you touched his arm?”

“I didn’t touch him, Rafe”

She responded, voice rising. She bit the inside of her lip, she’d never touched the boy, she knew she didn’t. She cautiously looked at him, he looked enraged, that almost psychotic look in his eye, she knew exactly why he was imagining her actions, exactly why his pupils were so blown.

“Bullshit,” he growled.

“I saw it.”

His laughter cut through the car like a blade, dark and humorless.

“I do everything for you, and this is what I get?”

His voice was shaking now, not with sadness, but rage. His knee bounced restlessly, fingers drumming against the wheel in a twitchy, coked-up rhythm. He was spiraling, completely lost in his own head.

“You’re so fucking ungrateful, Y/N. Do you even realize what I do for you? Huh? DO YOU!?”

Her throat was tight, hands trembling in her lap.

“I keep you safe, I give you everything I have.”

He let out another sharp laugh, shaking his head.

“And you just—what? Smile at some random guy like I don’t fucking exist?”

He sniffed sharply, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. His pupils were still blown wide, making his normally piercing blue eyes look dark and dangerous. He was wired, running too hot, unable to slow down.

“You like the attention, huh? That’s it, makes you feel good? You like making me look like a fucking idiot?”

Y/N opened her mouth, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak and he angrily spat out.

“Because that’s what you did, Y/N. You made me look fucking stupid.”

His voice was shaking now, but not from hurt. From rage. From pure, untamed fury.

The speedometer climbed and the road outside the window blurred. The car shot forward, and her heart slammed in her chest. She could see a deer in the distance, its eyes glowing in the headlights.

Her stomach dropped.

“Rafe, slow down, you're gonna hit it,” she pleaded, voice rising in panic.

“Yeah? So what?”

He didn’t slow down. She could feel the terror creeping into her chest as she began to beg.

“Stop, Rafe, please- what are you doing?”

But instead of slowing down, he pushed the pedal harder. The car sped towards the deer, and Y/N’s heart raced, her breath catching in her throat.

“Stop! Please—”

At the last second, she reached out and grabbed the wheel, swerving the car to avoid the deer. The tires screeched in protest, the car veering off course. She could feel the panic and adrenaline coursing through her veins as Rafe’s hand jerked the wheel back into control; the range rover came back onto the road, but the air was thick with fear. She was crying now, her hands trembling, and her voice was barely a whisper.

“Please, Rafe. . . you're scaring me.”

He didn’t answer at first, the tension in the car suffocating, until he suddenly slammed on the brakes. The car jerked to a sudden stop, throwing Y/N forward so hard that her seatbelt snapped tight across her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her hands flew to the dashboard, bracing herself against the impact. Her ears were ringing. Her heart was racing. The silence that followed was suffocating. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she turned, terrified, to look at Rafe.

He sat completely still, hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were bone white. His chest heaved, his nostrils flaring with every sharp inhale and his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. She could feel the rage rolling off him in waves. She whispered, voice barely there.

“You’re scaring me.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose.

And then- he moved the action so sudden it made her breath hitch. His hand shot out so fast she didn’t have time to react. Fingers wrapped around her jaw, hard. Y/N gasped, her head snapping toward him as he forced her to look at him. His grip was bruising, his fingers digging into her skin.

“Don’t ever- ever -fucking do that again, d’you understand me?”

He growled, his breath heavy and uneven. Her heart thudded in her chest, fear and adrenaline mixing with the sting of his touch. She couldn’t stop herself from trembling, the tears streaming down her face now. She nodded frantically, the words caught in her throat.

“I said” he repeated, his voice cold and booming in the silence of the car

“D’YOU FUCKING HEAR ME!?”

“Yes- yes! I hear you”

Y/N barely managed a nod, the words caught in her throat as she whimpered out. He let go of her face with a sharp shove, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, her head snapped back against the seat, leaving her gasping for air. Her hands trembled in her lap, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her dress as she tried to steady her breathing.

And then—

BANG

His fist slammed against the steering wheel.

Y/N flinched.The sound echoed through the car, raw and violent.

“You fucking embarrass me like that again, I swear to God—”

He cut himself off, breathing heavily, Y/N sat frozen, her heart hammering, her body still trembling. He exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair before a small sound rang out in the thick air of the car.

The click of his seatbelt.

He leaned over towards her causing her to stiffen and soon the slow creak of the glove compartment opening was heard. A rush of nausea hit Y/N’s stomach, her body locking up as the air turned suffocatingly thick around her. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She didn’t want to look- she knew she shouldn’t look but she did and that was when she saw it.

The gleam of cold metal in the dim light.

Her breath hitched so sharply it felt like a blade to her lungs. A noise- small, fragile- escaped the back of her throat, but it barely filled the silence. The fear was instant.

Crippling.

Her fingers dug into the seat, her nails pressing so hard into the leather she thought they might tear through. She knew she should move, open the door of the car and just get out, but her throat had closed up, her body locked in place by something deeper than terror- helplessness.

Rafe didn’t even look at her at first.

He sat there, fingers running over the handle of the gun like it was something precious, something sacred. The weight of it in his palm seemed to calm him, his chest rising and falling in an almost steady rhythm. His expression was unreadable and then- he turned his head, eyes met hers with that cold, calculated look. The kind that made her stomach drop, the kind that told her he wasn’t just trying to scare her. The gun was heavy in his grip, the black steel gleaming under the glow of the dashboard lights. It looked too big, too real, like something that shouldn’t belong in a moment like this.

Then- he clicked the safety off.

The sound sent a jolt through her body and a small, broken sob tore from her throat, her entire frame shaking as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. But Rafe? He barely blinked, his movements were slow.

Deliberate.

She hoped that he was just trying to intimidate her, scare her so she would shut up, but when he raised the gun her prayers stopped. Her stomach plummeted and a desperate, breathless noise pushed from her lips, her body tensing so hard it hurt, but she still couldn’t move.

The barrel of the gun was cold when it pressed against her forehead.

Her breath stopped. The pressure was light, almost teasing, but it was enough to make her entire world stop spinning.

Rafe studied her.

Watched the way her body locked up, how her chest barely rose, how her lips parted just slightly- like she was afraid even breathing too hard would set him off, it was as though he enjoyed it. Some sick and twisted part of him liked having control over her, having her so powerless.

His thumb brushed lazily over the trigger.

“I do everything for you”

He murmured, voice low. Soft. Almost gentle. It was like he wasn’t holding a loaded gun against her forehead, like he wasn’t watching her fall apart right in front of him.

“And this is what I get?”

Her bottom lip trembled, but she didn’t dare move, didn’t dare blink, she was so terrified.Tears slipped down her cheeks, her vision blurring, her breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps. She wanted to beg him, to scream in his face, to move and run.

But she couldn’t.

Rafe tilted his head, still watching her, eyes following the tears that slid steadily down her cheeks, some dripping off of her chin, others rolling down her neck. Studying her, he pressed the cold metal against her skin slightly harder.

“Tell me who owns you.”

Her stomach twisted violently as he opened his mouth. The words sent a deep, horrible kind of dread crawling down her spine, settling in her bones like lead. She tried to breathe past it, but her lungs weren’t working. Her hands clawed at the seat, desperate for something- anything- to ground her, but there was nothing. Rafe’s thumb brushed over the trigger again and her breath hitched sharply.

“Say it”

He ordered, yet his voice was ironically calm. Cold. Y/N’s lip quivered, but her mouth wouldn’t move. Her throat was so tight she could barely choke out the words.

“You do”

She finally whispered her voice shaking. Rafe’s lips twitched. A slow, satisfied smirk curled at the corners as her wide pleasing eyes looked at him.

“That’s right.”

And just like that—

The gun disappeared.

Like it was never there in the first place.

is it bad I lowkey have a thing for psycho season 2 Rafe...

[xo2dee]

NOW LOADING. .

JJK MASTERLIST

ROCKET SKATES

PAIRING: Nanami Kento x (Fem)Reader WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Degradation, dirty talk, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, edging, orgasm delay/denial, finger sucking, some spanking, slight panty kink, public sex, vaginal sex, rough sex, breeding kink, creampie, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of blood and violence (it's not done to either reader or nanami). WORD COUNT: 10,469 SUMMARY: It’s not often you get nice, cutesy dates with Kento, but it’s also not often they get ruined... Yet in your favor.

A/N: i wrote this back in 2021 when i was chronically horny and before my frontal lobe developed and taken the liberty to edit the fuck out of it bc i hated the original LMAO. but pls enjoy this filth <3

Eyelashes coated in your favorite mascara swept over your eyes in a languid blink as you watched him, his movements nearly too fast for you to comprehend if you didn't already know what to expect.

Him in all his muscled glory hiding underneath that regular, suit get-up he donned nearly every minute he was awake in the day, showcasing the raw, brutal strength he held shadowed within himself as his arm lifted and he all but sent but a mere flick of his wrist and decapitated a curse. Afterwards, he pushed his goggles up, veins in his hand protruding and fingers tight with frustration as he eyed his surroundings in pursuit of any other curses, while you remained rooted to your spot for brief moments being too enamored with his behavior. 

You were too caught on him to pay attention to yourself, a singular thought brimming along your frontal lobe to your fascination and worry over him. 

Something was… off about him.

Nanami Kento was probably one of the best Jujutsu Sorcerers you had ever met (and no, you weren’t being biased and saying that just because he was your lover). He was poised with his abilities, a reserved and perfected angle to how he swung his blade through curses with such deadly precision you wondered if it was his curse technique or just him being him half the time. He finished the job quickly any time he had one, knowing exactly what needed to be done whenever he saw the first curse in his vision and studying their movements for any possible drawbacks. He was an extremely exceptional fighter all on his own anyway, being able to backhand curses (and people) if he so wanted to out of his space and all-in-all having his own advanced knowledge on combat that better helped him get the job done and get it done efficiently.

“Behind you!”

All of that was normal Kento behavior. What you were experiencing at the moment was the very reason you believed something was off about him. Your little dance with curses at that moment was not normal Kento behavior, and that was causing you to drift off and let your brain follow in on him to see if you could pick up what was so odd about him. He was tense, jerking movements of his arm swinging his blade through curses looking choppy and harsh, while the grunts leaving him he normally kept quiet and concealed were loud and groaning as he was heavier on his feet and pouncing around like some hungry predator. He was…

He was aggressive.

“Focus!”

The deep sound of his voice shouting at you after having him dive down and splitting a curse rightly in two for getting too close to you when you had been keeping your eyes on him made you grip up on your weapon more, yet it didn’t stop the shiver curling down each jut of bone along your spine when you nearly could feel the vibration of it and could taste the huskiness of it. He had not been that way all day, only recently whenever you two had been rudely interrupted on your date and had to make room for exorcising curses. Alas – you sighed and watched him run a harsh hand through his hair, him tussling it up even more – you should’ve known something like that would’ve happened.

You always could say it: dates with Nanami Kento were hard to come by, but they were always relaxing and left you feeling wholeheartedly complete afterwards whenever you both got to go on one. Though, you weren’t too sure the ‘date’ you two were on would really be worth it in the end.

Yet, color you wrong once more, it certainly was worth it in the end.

It wasn’t like you had planned for it to even happen. Who the Hell would hope in the middle of a Farmer’s Market date that you two would get attacked by curses and have to clear out the goddamn area and lead them to a more secluded and adept area to exorcise them better? Certainly not you since you rarely got to go on cutesy dates with him and just enjoy his ‘I’m not at work so I can be less strict and less professional with you’ attitude.

That last part wasn’t seeming to be happening at that moment anyway with him huffing out orders and yells at you whenever you slipped up a bit and nearly costed yourself.

You rolled your shoulders back as another lowly curse approached you, twirling your cursed weapon in your hands as you sent a substantial amount of cursed energy through it before you were dashing forward and poising yourself for a strike. You faked to the right whenever the curse provoked, a swift, brutal swing as you heard the wind whizzing through the air in your ear and felt the vibration of when the impact hit it from how hard you had swung. The payoff was worth it in the end, the curse’s head fully unlatching from its body after you pulled through your entire hit with the faint buzzing of adrenaline bubbling up through your veins whenever you felt that thrill from fighting. You stood fully afterwards, lips parted slightly from your breaths and heart loud in your ears as you laid eyes back on Kento who had cleanly cut another curse again in two.

And by your own foolish accord, you were losing focus thinking back to perhaps why he was acting so aggressive.

The day had been fine and so had the date; locked arms with Kento walking around the vicinity amicably with him holding the basket full of all fruits, veggies, greens and ingredients he wanted to use in cooking recipes you liked to listen to him prattle on about because his interest in cooking and food was as adorable as it was sexy. Kento cooked like a dream and you had a reason to tease him to say he could be a professional chef if he wasn’t a professional Jujutsu Sorcerer, to which he’d go on his humble monologue about how his cooking wasn’t all that amazing and he did it to get by and appetize himself. Yeah okay, that’s why whenever you ate his cooking he always would subtly look for your approval and let a sigh of relief when you liked it.

Adorable man.

Nevertheless it was a stark contrast to his fierce attitude with the curses. You had vocally whined and expressively pouted whenever that basket full of ingredients and edibles had been slung away by him rather harshly whenever a curse had gotten too close to you and he straight-up knocked it feet away from you two with a poorly concealed, pissed off grunt by smacking it in the face with the basket. Kento, understandably, was exasperated you had been more worried about dinner more than your own safety, but in the end you sighed while getting serious and listening to him whenever he told you plans were changing and that you two needed lure the curses away from civilians and exorcise them elsewhere.

After all, Kento held up above the safety of civilians, innocents and children more than his own self. And that included you, even though you were perfectly capable of fighting alongside of him easily and he needed to stop jumping in front of you like he had just done beforehand trying to shield you from another curse and then backhanding it away again with tensed muscles and a tensed jaw with a pants-pissing glare.

You liked fighting with Kento (even if it ended up ruining dates, and he sometimes was a bit overbearing trying to keep you safe) as it was energizing and downright adrenalizing whenever you got to fluidly moving around him and along with him. Yet at that moment, despite all the adrenaline and the pent-up aggression you could feel fluctuating off the both of you, there were no words to describe the regret you were feeling for your fashion choice. After flipping through the air and landing on the cracked pavement at one point, your ankle had twisted causing you to stumble and a curse to come flying right at you, but Kento being nearby was already steadying you with one hand first before twirling you both out of the way and then shooting another exasperated look towards you before swiftly slashing the legs off the curse.

“Watch your step.”

Honestly yeah, you got it, wearing high-heeled boots for combat was stupid, but you weren’t dressing for combat. You had dressed for a cute Farmer’s Market date that got fucking ruined, and you were then flipping around in a skirt and heels fighting curses. If you weren’t so annoyed, you’d tease him and say that he probably liked watching your skirt ride up on your thighs and letting him get a peek at your panties, but the man looked like he was about to bust a blood vessel for whatever reason.

Still… you weren’t too used to being rescued like he had been doing for your carelessness, but watching Kento rip off his jacket and completely abandon it on top of a vacant car letting you feast eyes on the harness fitting snugly against his back before rolling up his sleeves showing his forearms that were already firmly coiled up with his veins bulging outwards and him harshly grabbing his tie and unraveling it free of its confines so that he could wrap it around a tight fist…

Or maybe you’d get yourself into more trouble so that he’d come save you and give you that little glare that wrinkled his forehead and made his lips twitch.

No way you were horny just looking at him (then again… look at him). You chalked it up to all that adrenaline and cursed energy you were emitting outwards, while it also pumped through your veins and rushed through your blood as you finally sprinted off after him when he began to shake the blood clinging to his weapon off, your solid heels making quite a lot of noise on the pavement as you went.

You had dodged, flipped, slashed, spun, and hit your way around the curses, coming up to stand next to Kento after he sent another clean cut that split a curse into two. You took notice of the white-knuckled grip on the handle of his weapon, the grunts he had been letting out rather loudly compared to how he usually stayed rather quiet and reserved whenever fighting, the vein nearly pulsing on his temple, some blood smeared on his jawline you wanted to drag a finger across to clean, and you took notice of his body stiffening and jaw clenching harder whenever you leaned up to brush your chin across his tense shoulder.

Something was… off about him.

Unconsciously, you let your breath blow across his neck as you opened your mouth to speak, “You’re being awfully violent today,” you remarked, your chest heavy from all the stamina you had been using that made it come out more sounding like a pant.

Kento’s head only angled towards you minimally, the glare on the lenses of his glasses allowing you but a brief look into a steely glower, and the tilt letting you see his mouth twitch down further into a frown. “This is annoying,” he finally spoke, gravelly voice thick with a hard edge that was but growled out. He shifted again and slightly turned towards you, the thick cord of his bicep brushing against your breasts before he was looming over you, nearly shadowing your entire body, “And I’m being distracted.”

His cologne was strong sifting up through your nose and into your brain, the nerves already alive in your body from the adrenaline buzzing harder as you wiggled those words around in your brain. “Distracted by what?” you asked as you glanced off towards the side to see if you two were truly alone. Something in his slightly heaving chest was twisting the atmosphere between you two (as well as twisting your lower gut in an all-too familiar feeling).

He didn’t answer you right away, instead moving into your personal space to capture your full attention. Your face ended up nearly buried into his sculpted pectorals and you could hear, as well as feel, the raspy grunt leave his body whenever he jerked his arm up rather harshly and swung through another curse that had been creeping up behind you. The gurgling noise of the curse reached your ears and you peeped around your shoulder to see he had slashed another one in half again. Normally he was one of just going for the limb decapitation, but… he had been absolutely demolishing them left and right in outstanding speed and ferocity you had been having trouble keeping up with him.

The hair on your body rose whenever his hand snaked its way onto the middle of your back, easing you forward into him as you trained your eyes onto his face. You let him guide you, his hand suddenly seeming to be the only thing keeping you upright and keeping your feet planted firmly on the ground.

Kento was quiet for a brief moment until you felt him slightly leaning over to brush mouth against your ear, warm breath tickling as you felt his palm lay flat against your back, “Am I going to have to keep saving you?” His breath was suddenly hot on your skin then, your toes curling into your boots as your adrenaline-fueled body and mind was moving before you could even recognize what you were doing or inspect if he was feeling the same.

A hand of yours shot up out of nowhere as you tangled your fingers into the hair of his undercut and you pulled him harshly down into your face for a kiss. It was messy and it slightly hurt whenever you knocked your chin against his, but you were so pent up and moved by just your nerves literally being lit on fire from the thrill of a fight and your loins spiraling from how he was just being so aggressive and just so different, you couldn’t stop yourself from just getting a taste of his lips. However, even in your stupor you worried that the kiss wasn’t returned and that perhaps you misread and were being unbearably horny, but that quickly flew out the window when the hand on your back slid downwards to rest lower and pull on the fabric of your shirt.

“You said – you’re distracted –” you spoke hotly and breathily in-between smacks of fierce kisses, biting down onto his lower lip in the process, “Distracted by what – Kento?"

Kento didn’t necessarily respond at first, busy devouring your lips as much as he could in kisses consisting of saliva and smacks, a far cry from your usual chaste ones, before he was using the arm holding his weapon to cage you into him around your waist. You could feel the sword angled upright against your spine, your hip knocking into his thigh as he slid a leg forward and kicked one of your feet away so that he could slot his thigh in-between your own. It was hard, and it was tensed, the appendage already jerking up into your clothed cunt that was embarrassingly wet you noticed whenever you rolled your hips in response to his movement.

He swallowed the small moan you gave from the stimulation, jerking you harder into his stone-like abdomen and farther up on his thigh, before his mouth left yours and he trailed his saliva-covered lips across your cheek and down into the junction of your neck. He started kissing and biting there, all the while letting his arm slip down to let a hand curl fingers on your hip and guide you to grind on his thigh as the blade of his sword sat dangerously close to your ribcage.

“You want to know?” he asked in that octave that whispered sinfully deep into your ears when he had your legs thrown up over his shoulders with his cock diving into you. It was utterly nefarious, wisping across your skin and letting you know he felt the same way you did, and only burned that arousal brewing within you hotter. He continued on when your eyelashes fluttered at the tone of his voice and your spine arched into him, "Something tells me you already do."

"Mm," you started off, pressing into his hard body like you wanted to melt within the hard planes of his being, as you played with him more since he already had you figured out. You could already feel your cunt getting more soaked and the cloth of your panties growing uncomfortable the more you shamelessly grinded on his thigh in the middle of the street, the soft sighing pants leaving your mouth blowing his locks curling down onto his forehead and your fingers tangling more into his hair for retribution. You rolled harder, feeling his thigh press up more into you in retaliation before huffing out against his forehead, “Tell me and I’ll tell you why I’m so wet for you –”

You cut yourself off with a high-pitched gasp, however it was not by your own doing. Kento had taken that moment after your little breathy whisper to flex his thigh. You couldn’t help your own straining to tighten around the movement, trying to unsuccessfully meet that rhythm when he held you at bay instead.

“You,” he groaned out in desperation against your neck, a sweet kiss placed there that shattered the front he was putting. He was lifting his face back away from you after that, the furrowed brow and tensed jaw on his expression sending a hot course of pleasure into your clit as you continued a slow pursuit on his thigh and letting you leisurely drown in ecstasy the more you moved.   

“Me?” you asked in a teasing tone, craning your head back further exposing the soft skin of your throat he had been fixated on beforehand. You slightly tugged his head back away from your own to expose his neck, watching his nostrils flare and face pinch up before you could feel the stare from underneath his glasses; a plea perhaps. You paid it no mind, arching your back further and pushing your heaving chest outwards for his gaze while you tried not to take notice when his eyes that were barely discernible through his glasses fell to your breasts when you did so that made you all the more excited. Instead you were kicking your foot against his like he had done before to you to bring his eyes back as you smirked that you had caught him staring, “How could I make you distracted?”

Kento tugged you back closer, your chest slanting against him as his new attitude and breathy words altered the ambiance from fighting in the air between you two to something he used whenever he was prowling after you in the bedroom. The adrenaline was still coursing through you whenever you watched his glasses slightly slide down to give you view to his dilated pupils, his hold on your back nearly startling as he leaned down closer to you, “Your carelessness, the way you’ve been steadily losing control, the way you’ve been watching me the entire time… that damn skirt I can’t stand to look at right now…” he all but groaned out that last part, eyebrows twitching and teeth gritting as his chest heaved in tune with yours and urged your hips rougher onto his thigh.

You sighed whenever your clit began to tingle from all the pleasure and the mere fact you two were doing all of that in public, the adrenaline morphing and combining your eagerness for sex to follow in on his movement, but instead to keep him at bay as the hand still holding your weapon crept along his belt and skimmed across the front of his pants that were already bulging out.

You grinned.

“You’re already hard? Have you been hard this entire time watching me? Did you like seeing every peek of my panties you could get? Did you think about just what you could do with them whenever you could get the chance? Did you think about taking them off of me and wrapping them around your cock –”

You didn’t get very far finishing the sentence, his patience and desperation clouding his actions as he leaned into your body. Perhaps chasing after what you sought, his temple pressing into yours and his lips slightly trembling as they found their way onto your ear.

“You’re distracting me,” he sighed, mouth coming closer as he heatedly spoke those words, “and it’s best we don’t do this here unless…” he trailed off for a moment, dark eyes momentarily leaving your face to glance around the area with an inquisitive look as though seeming something else caught his attention.

You, however, were intrigued, the new side of Kento something you had never really seen. Yes you had seen him somewhat agitated whenever he fought curses, but those times were nothing compared to what you had seen earlier with his ferocious movements and near unrecognizable harsh burst of cursed energy he had been emitting. You liked that look in his eyes, an icy anger and adrenaline-hazed in his pupils that grew which each passing moments and only widened the more he looked at you, but also the desperation he like displayed whenever you turned around and prowled after him. You liked the way his body seemed to be coiled up a predator about to strike down its prey for the kill.

Something was off about him… and you began to know exactly what it was.

Whether it was just him getting worked up watching you or perhaps he felt the same way you did that your date was ruined, it was clear that he was pent up with frustration.

You didn’t give him a chance to finish whatever he was going to say, tilting your head closer to him as you skimmed your lips across his in a mock tease to let his eyes return back to your face with an indescribable glint. You untangled your fingers from those blonde locks, trailing a nail down his neck as you smiled against his mouth and gave a long, slow roll onto his thigh and letting him feel the pulsing of your cunt as you did so.

“So what are you gonna do, Kento? What are you gonna do about me distracting you?”

It was a split second and your eyes widened, the sudden burst of cursed energy from him in front of you and another creature behind you raising your hackles and nearly diminishing the arousal you felt within you if it hadn’t been for Kento’s actions.

It was another hard swing of his arm, the grunt and hot breath leaving him pushed out against your mouth in a near kiss as he swung through yet another curse that had snuck up behind you in your fascination with him. You could hear the flesh split and blood splatter, slightly turning your head to peek once more as you noticed that time he had cut off the head of the curse for getting too close you. You watched dazedly as he flicked his weapon free of blood again, the hand on your back cradling you into his body smoothing down your skin in a slow caress of comfort.

You could barely stop the moan leaving you after he did it too, grinding farther up on his thigh to wet his pants and brushing your knuckles against his hard cock as you placed a kiss on his bottom lip. He didn’t grant it to you for too long however, letting his hand fall off your back before he was stepping away from you altogether but a few inches, untangling all his limbs from you and removing his glasses to place them in his pocket in the process. His tie remained wrapped tight around his fist as he rolled up his sleeves better, the thick corded muscles of his forearms bulging with the movement before he deftly unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.

His hair was still messed up, and the blood was still smeared underneath his jaw.

God, fuck, he looked good.

Kento regarded you for a few moments as you both stared at each other with clear ravenous desire electrifying the air between you two. You nearly wanted to take a step forward to initiate it with that kiss you still wanted, but Kento was once again beating you to the punch with a long sigh that sounded so deliciously sinful and bordering on a groan it stopped you in your pursuit and dampened your panties more.

“I suppose I’ll just have to make do there since anything and everything will interrupt us out here.”

You rose a brow, “Meaning…?”

He fixed you with another leveled stare, cheeks flushing from agitation, arousal, embarrassment, you weren’t sure, but something told you it was something perhaps darker and that you were wound tight in the trap set by him. He took another breath, heavy and oh-so loud, then took one step forward and tensing up as he grew nearer once more. His lips parted as he stalked you, the words coming out shocking your nerves and burning that fire behind your naval brighter.

“Meaning… I am going to finish what you started in that alleyway behind us and fuck you."

Then without further ado, and with another remarkable show of his speed he had thrown you over his shoulder, a squeal leaving your mouth as you found yourself staring at the blue fabric of his shirt covering his back and his broad shoulder digging into your abdomen. He had picked you up with one arm, the feat of the strength he possessed always surprising you and shooting white-hot pleasure straight down into your core. A small, giggling snort left you, pressing your boobs as much as you could into his back as you felt him stiffen from the feeling and your hand ghosting down to swat at his ass in further attempts to set him off.

The eye you were able to see from his side profile made a slow shift towards you for a desperate look, the vein in his temple near throbbing and his cheeks a very bright red from all your teasing. You would’ve felt wounding him up after being pissed off from your date getting ruined, but Kento had made zero complaints that he had wanted you to stop at all. Besides, it wasn’t like it would be the first time you two did anything similar.

You spent your time staring the blue hue of his shirt and subtly slipping a finger underneath his harness to ever-so often to slap it against his taut back as he finally made way to the alley, letting you down gently and taking your weapon away from your hand to slip it onto his back along with his own. Your pussy was throbbing by then in anticipation to what he had planned, and you didn’t have to wait long when you made eye contact with him again.

And from the look in his eyes, he was going to have his way with you and fuck you in a gritty, secluded alleyway that no regular person would dare to walk down in fear of what was in the darkness.

God, it shouldn’t have been as hot as it seemed.

“Good?” he asked, nervousness painting along his features for what you had to say – or if you were to decline that time. And it didn’t take a genius to know what he was asking of you.

“Good. And you?”

“Perfect.”

It was fast as Kento’s mouth descended onto yours, his hands cradling your face in desperate kiss as you walked backwards for him to press yourself against the wall. Your shoulder blades dug into the brick of the alleyway before you felt him close in on you and curl an arm underneath your knee to lift your leg up and pin your thigh up against the wall. His hips were already digging into either side of your inner thighs, his pelvis nearly inches away from your own as your skirt finally rode up to let him feast eyes on what he wanted most in that moment. You curled your fingers into the fabric of his shirt on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you bit your lip watching him already get to work and fluttering your eyes when you realized what he was doing.

Kento wasted no time dragging a knuckle down the front of your panties, a desperate noise leaving him whenever he pressed down onto the wet material before ultimately deciding he wasn’t going to have to waste any time with you. A finger coiled underneath the lace covering your pussy, pulling it to the side, and then he was sinking a lone, thick middle finger into you and cursing under his breath whenever you moaned unabashedly loud and clenched around the appendage while shallowly rocking your hips forward onto him.

He didn’t spare you any glance, face downwards as his fingers tightened on your thigh pinning it harder into the wall it nearly left indentions while he only watched the movement of his finger leaving you and returning you and coming out more coated with your juices each time he did so. You watched his dark eyebrows angle down more, a muscle bulging out in his jaw whenever the sounds of your soaked pussy began to fill quiet alleyway before he was speaking in a condescending tone, “Why are you so wet?”

You tried to tug him closer, a ‘Mmm’ leaving you whenever he picked up the pace and added another finger that slid in way too easy and leaving him to grunt again when you enthusiastically returned that with a higher-pitched moan. However Kento stayed steady, keeping his eyes down watching himself finger you and pinning your thigh higher up on the wall as you indulged him, “You mean why am I wet after watching you act like that and when you let me ride on your thigh? God Kento, you should know how wet you get me…”

His face twisted again, a slight look up towards your face underneath his eyelashes that nearly made you shiver from how blown his pupils were before he gently pulled his fingers out of you. His fingers were absolutely drenched with you, and he was examining them for a brief moment until he returned his hand and let it skim gently across your slit with a finger tickling at your clit and slowly using the pad of his finger to begin circling it. You let out a quiet whine, fingers twisting into his shirt more as you tilted your head against wall and slowly rolled your hips in tune to his ministrations.

Suddenly his finger was gone, taking all the pleasure he had been giving you for the brief moment and he lifted his head back up to look at you with a scowl and his voice deathly calm in a murmur, “You can do better than this.”

You squirmed whenever his finger brushed by your opening again, teasing you with putting a finger in to one knuckle before pulling it away and returning to soft touches to your clit. “Just touch me please.”

Kento regarded you with a sigh, pinching your clit for the whine and giving you what you wanted. He wasn’t finished with the teasing though, spending a few more rounds alternating from curling his fingers against your walls and pulling them free whenever he felt like it, and rubbing your clit in circles as you started to turn into a moaning, drooling mess biting into his shoulder from all the stimulation. Yet every time you sighed and your eyes nearly rolled back when you felt your cunt begin to loosen with an impending orgasm, he was pulling away and leaving you hanging that had you shaking in his hold and biting harder into his shirt.

You gained another bit of clarity from your swirling haze when you felt his fingers drag excruciatingly slow in circles along your thigh he had pinned against the wall, a vibrating hum leaving his throat whenever he felt your legs begin to shake. That hand trailed up and moved to lie palm up on the wall next to your head, the other pulling away from your pussy and letting it slide in a smooth, tantalizing graze until he glided up in-between your breasts before he laid his palm flat there. You could feel the wetness of your pussy juice coating his fingers through your shirt as he gently pushed your body back off of his to lean you against the wall. He took a moment to access your conditions, and when seeing no signs of backing out he continued onwards.

Your half-lidded eyes fell on his face, watching him grow closer until he was mouthing his next words around your lips and knocking his pelvis into yours.

“Tell me what you want,” Kento huffed so heatedly into your mouth, a barely there bite to your bottom lip and a small squeeze to one of your breasts.

Your whole body was trembling, fingers twisting into his shirt and mind drunk for him as your cunt all drenched along your inner thighs and pleading to be filled by him fluttered from his sinful tone. “Please, just let me cum – touch me, Kento,” you all but begged, bratty demeanor from before all but gone.

“And why should I do that?” His voice was low, eyelashes dipping more over his dark eyes that seemed to grow brighter the more you lost your composure. His hand left your chest after that, gliding back down as he pinched at your soaked panties.

“Because… just please, I understand what I did,” you whined out, trying to kiss at his lips again but to no avail. You nearly felt like thrashing around, the want to cum and need have him inside too strong and making you lose some of your sense.

A ‘Hmm’ was breathed out around you, two pads of his fingers rubbing the fabric of your lace panties together, “You did show you could do better letting your pussy get more wet for me, but…” he slid your panties down an inch, “you need to learn to be patient,” he finally hissed out, his tone losing that calm form and coiling into that barely restrained one you heard earlier whenever you had been teasing him.

You weren’t giving up, desperate for his entire being as one hand of yours slid back into his hair and massaged the back of his skull, “I am patient! I’ll do what you want me to do, just – please.”

Kento didn’t reply to you for a moment, only a sigh leaving his mouth that sounded just as condescending as it felt before he pulled your panties down another inch with the cool air tickling your soaked lower half. “You’ll do what I want? You’ll listen and only cum when I say you can?”

You wiggled up against his chest, arching your back away from the wall and trying to get closer to him and his clothed hard cock pressing against your abdomen, “Yesyesyesyesyes, anything.”

He was getting better at it. And hadn’t broke character once.

You’d definitely reward him for it a later time.

Kento only pulled away far enough to lean down and tear your horribly drenched panties off of you with a powerful sweep on his hand, pocketing them away in his pants for safekeeping. He closed in on you faster than before, and in one easy maneuver he yanked you up into his front harder with a steel arm wrapped around your back before instructing you further with orders.

“Up.”

You jumped up rather wobbly, his hands falling to settle on your thighs in a squeeze as you wrapped them around his waist. He pushed you back against the wall to lean in and plunge another harsh kiss onto your mouth as he grounded his cock up against your naked cunt, biting at your lower lip again when you whined and pulling away to mouth at your jawline before making his way to your ear and whispering his next command against your earlobe with a biting tease.

“Undo my pants.”

You weren’t able to wait any longer, hurriedly releasing your hands from where they were holding onto him and you miraculously were able to loosen his belt free and pull him out with a teasing squeeze. You barely held in a moan when you felt him so vulnerable in your hand, a shudder leaving you when you realized he was about to put himself inside of you and from his reaction to you touching him so heavy.

Kento’s lips and teeth detached themselves from your jawline frighteningly quick, his handsome, chiseled features twisting into pleasure as he threw his head back a brief angle and let out a groan from your touch. You nearly wanted to bite down onto his Adam’s apple exposed so nicely to you, and you would’ve if he hadn’t tilted his head back down with a wild glint in his eyes and used one hand to push yours away from his cock and hold them together against your breasts. The other left your thigh as well, leaving you suspended in the air by just his strength and weight as he rose his hand palm up right under your mouth.

“Spit.”

His curt, clipped tones only served to continue and turn you on, eagerly complying to him as you rolled your tongue around in your mouth to produce more saliva until the inside was completely full of your spit. You puckered your lips afterwards and drooled a decent amount of spit into his palm as his fingers teased at the edge of your lips while you did so, your drool getting caught in the corners of your mouth and wetting your chin once you were finished. A harsh tingle found its way into your clit once more when you watched his nostrils flare at your willingness and the way you were complying to his orders so quickly, a quirk to the corner of his own lips as he pulled his hand away from your face tickling your chin and freed your wrists.

“Good girl,” he praised you once, and in a quick display of reflexes and experience he had learned with you, he reached down with one hand and coated his cock with your spit and mixed it in with his precum, letting a long grunt leave him as he threw his head back once more when he began stroking himself to completely cover his dick with the makeshift lube. His other hand curled around your nape once more, squeezing the area as he shuffled closer to you suddenly, and you felt the recognizable feeling of his hot cock rubbing up against your entire cunt.

You squirmed again, locking your arms around his neck as you lifted yourself up a bit by arching your back waiting for the inevitable. Kento grunted at your eagerness, eyes squeezing shut along with yours whenever you wiggled down more onto his bare cock as your moans mingled together with your mouths so close together whenever you felt his tip brush against your opening. Kento let out a heated huff as he guided himself more into you, his cockhead breaching inside of you while his expression twisted into one of concentration.

“Kento,” you breathe, all breathy and pleading around his lips, “Please.”

His patience had worn thin then you understood, his cock finally pushing further inside of you somewhat slowly and even with how wet you had gotten from the fingering and pussy slapping, it still was quite the fit given Kento was someone who had girth. He was so thick, so searing, it was nearly too much for you to handle even though you had taken his cock countless times before. Though he continued into you as you arched and squirmed from the stretch of him pulling your pussy walls taut, your fingers twisted at the collar of his shirt when you suddenly heard him grunt in frustration then grip your hip in a near bruising hold before shoving the rest of him inside of you in one harsh thrust.

You couldn’t help the loud moan escaping you, the red-hot heat of his cock inside of you and the nerve-tingling pleasure of your cunt squeezing him impossibly tight and shocking your body nearly unbearable for you to even handle as you finally got him inside of you.

Kento seemed to be fairing somewhat better, a hot kiss planted on your mouth when jerked himself as far as he could inside of you, and his voice so low and sinful in your face it was a wonder you weren’t gushing all over him then. “How perfect,” his breath mingled with yours once more, your noses skimming across one and another’s as you began to find it too hard to kiss him back from the coil of pleasure burning behind your naval. “It’s like you were made for me, weren’t you? You’re my girl, aren’t you?” his fingers tightened on your nape, teeth scraping against your bottom lip as he pulled a choked gasp from you with one shallow push of his hips into you.

“Only yours,” you managed in your near drunken stupor, legs shaking around his waist as he started up a slow round of thrust in a mouthwatering angle. A high-pitched moan left you when his free hand teasingly brushed across your clit once more and you rolled your hips downwards to further impale yourself onto his cock, testing his patience in the meanwhile when you heard another long exhale leave him when you bit his lip in tune to clenching up around his dick. “Only you can get me this wet and fuck me like this.”

Perhaps… you should’ve backed off with the tempting words.

Kento was still for a moment before he shifted your higher up against the wall to where his mouth had access to your neck, his breath hot in puffs against it once he got there and with one bite into the junction between your shoulder and neck, he spoke his last command for the time being.

“Lock your ankles.”

Oh, God.

You fluttered your eyelashes at his request, a squirm of excitement tingling down into your pussy as the words nearly made you cum and you unabashedly whimpered in his ear after he growled them out into your throat, your booted feet accompanied with heels locking around his body and letting the dull edge of your heels press into the delicious dip of his lower back.

Better hold on tight.

He pulled out of you slowly one last time and let his tip glide up across your slit and clit before he was burying himself into your cunt with a quick, snap of his hips. The press of him against your sweet spot was harsher that time and the stretch better as it ended up letting you give out a breathless moan, your chest beginning to heave with pants and whines when he set an unforgiving and powerful pace. A pace that sent you spiraling back down into the path of a release that did as much for you as it did for him, the pulsing and fire inside of you raging as he continued to pound away at you.

Your gasps and whines began to line up to the rhythm of his harsh thrusts, your chin coming down to fall onto his shoulder once more as you bit and mouthed away at this shirt to try keep yourself grounded. You rocked your hips as best as you could, trying to incite him into fucking you harder and faster all the while chasing that pressure behind your naval that grew heavier and bigger the more he rapidly entered and left you. You wanted to hear more of his noises, the slight low grunts he was giving not enough as your fingers twisted harder and you let your nails dig into his nape. You wanted him to lose himself in the fitted wetness that was your cunt.

Kento busied himself to kissing and biting along the column of your throat, bouncing you harder as your back began to slide up and down the brick wall behind you and rub your skin through your shirt. You paid it no mind (he’d probably curse himself later as he tended to skin of your back in a bath), too caught up in the rough thrusting as you instead took notice of the steel cold of his belt buckle rubbing into your thigh on one side and the leather of it rubbing onto your other. His groan was muffled into your neck when you squeezed your thighs tighter.

You parted off from sucking on his shoulder with another hair-raising moan, angling your head far back enough so that the back of your skull was knocking against the brick, “Fuck –” your eyes nearly rolled back when his grip on you turned bruising and your tightened at the thought bruises being left behind. Your words came out in the rhythm of each hard thrust, the breath of you getting knocked out each time he quickly entered you and slammed up into your cunt. “I – love – it – when you – get – rough – it feels – so fucking – good!”

Your breathy little admission and the louder and filthier your mouth got earned you the noisy groan you had been wanting, that one hand releasing your hip to slam into the wall beyond you, that you swore nearly shattered the brick, and the other one leaving your nape to trail two fingers along your jawline until he was diving them into the hot expanse of your mouth. Kento pressed his two fingers down onto your tongue, an unspoken word for you to suck on them, and you did so greedily. You could feel your pussy tightening up along with that coil in your abdomen, the warning from earlier not to cum until he told blaring out in your mind before you shoved it away and fell towards your own pleasure.

The smacks you were hearing was both of your skin damp with sweat slapping against each other with every thrust he made and straining you were able to hear the slippery sounds of your cunt getting horribly wrecked. You moaned around his fingers when he grunted harshly into your neck, your head lulling to right and –

You nearly froze, the hair rising on your neck as you took notice of the curse hobbling along towards the both of you with a curious tilt to its head and another slight step of a sound caused you to move your head around to stare at the one approaching Kento from behind. Fear struck you for short moments, your eyes widening and body tensing up as you made a noise complaint around his fingers trying to get his attention that you two were not alone anymore. Though as Kento said before with you distracting him, he almost didn’t take notice and you almost reached around to grab your weapon to swing at one if Kento hadn’t already beat you to the punch.

“Ken –"

The curse to right of you took one step too close and you watched oh-so fascinatingly and so goddamn aroused when Kento’s fingers in your mouth left abruptly with drool stuck to them and caught the curse by its neck, his hand and forearm corded with thick veins bulging outwards in a display of raw strength before he twisted the neck of the curse around and smashed its head into the wall until it exploded in a smog of purple. He was quick again when you heard another annoyed grunt leave him and the hand on the wall disappeared and he reached behind for his blade, and with one clean sweep behind his back without even looking, dislodging the head of the curse with a harsh thrust up into your sopping cunt.

He had done all of that… without looking… with his face buried in your neck… and with him still fucking you…

You couldn’t help it, you came right then and there, so unbelievably turned on that he had done that so aggressively and without even stopping his momentum.

Your nails had made their way scratching down his back through his shirt as you rode out the entirety of your intense orgasm. You were glad Kento had returned his hand from where he had beat that curse against the wall to wrap back around your waist because you were sure you would’ve fallen apart onto the ground with how you finally came down from the euphoria and your limbs all but felt useless to you. He had continued to fuck you through the rushing release, your mind content to allow him to do so since you were all caught up with trying to calm your racing heart down along with your erratic breathing.

For that you heard him grunt and pull his hand away from your back as did his thrusting coming to a stop once he felt your thighs jerking around his waist. You wondered why he stopped as you blinked yourself out of the drunken-like haze that was your paradise; you may have been a little muddled from the way he made you cum but you knew he hadn’t cummed then. You got your answer when he pulled back from you and let you lie your back more against the wall, his dark eyes briefly watching your chest move with your fast breathing before rising back to your lusted-out expression. He waited until you weren’t breathing as hard and then his hands were falling back to grasp both your hips after returning his weapon to his back, his voice deadly calm as he regarded you.

“Did you just cum?”

You rolled your shoulders, sighing whenever he rose a dark eyebrow and waited for you to explain yourself, “Mmm, yes, just – keep going –”

He cut you off, a dumbfounded expression on his face as his eyes darted around your face, “Are you sure…?”

You wanted to sigh. So much for not breaking character. You indulged him with a breathy noise, tightening your thighs around his waist and flexing your cunt around his cock, “Yes, now – keep going… Be mean and… y’know. Unless I have to do all the work again…” you trailed off, a mischievous ploy in your words you hoped spurred him on.

His fingers tightened up on your hips, feeling your cunt flutter around him once more as his jaw clenched. And somehow, you found yourself on your feet confused for a moment… Like he’d moved too fast for you to actually follow…

“Um…” And it was a brief few seconds before your mind caught up with your body.

Kento had pulled himself out of you and gently dropped you to stand level on the ground. You let out an indignant noise in response before trying to find your way back onto his cock, but in another display of his strength he had turned you around, your chest and cheek pressed against the brick and your hands lying flat against it as well. Your back ended up bent in that position as he pulled your hips back into and you were bouncing on his awaiting cock once more. The new position had you moaning louder, his own hissing exhale from how deep he went in and slid in so easily from how wet you were following right behind you as he started up a pace.

There was no chance to gather your thoughts, Kento’s behavior was bordering on losing control as he pressed his weight onto you and pinned you hard to the wall. His mouth found its way to your ear again, breath hot in your ear as he started off his depraved words for you and you alone to hear.

“It was your loud mouth that attracted their attention,” he gravelly started, one hand on your hip leaving as two fingers found your swollen and sensitive clit, “What is it? Can’t even keep yourself quiet even when you got something in your mouth? Or was it you couldn’t find the words to tell me you wanted to cum?”

You couldn’t form an answer to that, too engrossed with the pleasure he was giving you into your still sensitive and gushing cunt while simultaneously rubbing away at your clit in a fast pace. What you managed was a whining noise, fucking back onto his cock as his fingers slowed down on your clit and held off your new rapidly approaching orgasm. You nearly wanted to cry out in frustration from his ridiculous self-control, yet you were branching out on another cry whenever his fingers molded themselves into your hips with a quick pull backwards onto his cock.

You squealed, pressing your breasts harder into the wall as he started back up into your ear again. "Focus. Tell me what you want.”

“I want – mmm God, I want –”

He squeezed your hips, his own smacking loudly against your ass before a thumb found its way into your mouth and his teeth latched onto your earlobe before repeating himself again, “Say it. Tell me how much you want me to cum inside of you. Tell me how much you want me to cum and how you’ll barely be able to hold it inside of you. Tell me you want me to fuck my cum into you. Tell me how much you want to be a good girl for me.”

He was commanding you then, your eyes squeezing shut in tune to how your pussy clenched around him to his sinful words. The cutting edge to them told you that he was leaving you no room to even try and escape from answering him, your toes curling inside of your boots when he picked up his thrusts and huffed heatedly against your cheek.

Your whines were airy, face feeling flustered as you heeded his order, “Please, Kento, I’ll do anything – I want you to cum inside of me so bad –”

You cut yourself off when his fingers left your clit, thinking perhaps he was giving you what you wanted until that hand came down onto your ass in a resounding slap. You lurched forward from it, biting your lip trying to muffle a load moan as your pussy gushed more around his cock and the slippery sounds of your two’s debauchery grew louder in the alleyway. Your body felt like mush then, legs shaking under his form as he pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

“More.”

You could nearly feel the exasperated tears well up in your eyes, nails scratching at the brick and legs spreading wider for him as he bent your body down further and his fingers found your clit once more. Kento started up his teasing circles, chest heaving into your back as you tried once more in a shaky voice to appease his commands, “I want you to ruin me, fuck me dumb like a slut and can only think of you.”

You could feel his brow furrow against the side of your face, sweat lining in with yours as his hips picked up in a dangerous smacking with his balls following in pursuit to slapping into your pussy and clit as his fingers picked up the speed on your clit. Your eyes nearly rolled when you felt yourself falling back into your second release, gasping moans leaving your parched mouth as he grew desperate and started groan into your cheek. It spurned you on, you wanted to push him further to get him to act out more.

“I want you to fuck me so hard and cum in me so much there’s no way that I’m not pregnant. Come on, Kento –” you broke off in a heated moan, sweaty forehead grinding into the brick as you continued to babble whatever he possibly wanted to hear to get him and yourself to cum. "Fuck me till I'm pregnant – please – cum in me as much as you want until your baby's in me –"

His fingers pushed harder onto your clit, a white-hot burst behind your eyelids as you felt him teeter into a breakneck speed into your cunt. It nearly stopped you from getting the rest of your sentence out, but you managed to gasp it out you finally entered the throes of your second orgasm.

You couldn’t take it.

His fingers felt too good on your swollen clit, his cock so fucking hot and thick inside of you as it jutted into your deepest region, everything just fucking smelling like him, your brain churning into pure depravity as you listened to him groan and grunt as he increased his pace, your lower abdomen pulling and stretching out so far, and holy fucking shit –

You were sure what you garbled out was a variation of his name, but you weren’t too sure considering you were preoccupied trying not to pass out.

You were definitely sure then if he hadn’t kept a firm hold of your hips you would’ve collapsed and slid down the wall and onto the ground from how bad your legs were shaking. You didn’t necessarily care either when you felt a small dab drool escape your mouth around his thumb as you were too busy fighting off the aftershocks of your orgasm. That one was the most intense; your world – and your cunt – bursting like a champagne bottle when struck your entire body like a lightning strike. If you weren’t so needy to hear him cum you would’ve let your mind fall deep into the endorphins being given to you and tickling your body all the way down to your toes, your muscles and bones feeling like they had been liquefied and going numb.

The way he was still fucking you was on the frontlines of your thoughts, your body bouncing back and forth from the tenacity of his thrusts as your insides constricted and throbbed around him to help meet his own end. You didn’t have to wait long though as the mere feeling of you cumming around his cock pushed him over the edge, both hands on your hips tugging you backwards for one fierce thrust to let himself find your deepest point in the hot, mind-blowing pleasure that was your cunt and meet his end.

“Fuck!”

His body twitched behind you as his hands dug deeper into your flesh before he started to erratically jerk inside of you in slower strokes as his cum spurted out of him. Your eyes spun back and you moaned again when you felt the warm spurts of his cum shoot inside of your awaiting cunt and literally stuff you full to point you were sure you wouldn’t be able hold all of his cum within you. It nearly felt as if he never was going to stop, the new heat in your pussy sliding down throughout the inside of you. You could feel from the thick girth of the liquid passing through your cervix and into your wombs as Kento’s hips rocked slowly with each new spray into you until finally he came to a full stop with his cock sitting snugly inside of you to hold all of his cum in your cunt for the time being.

It was a few moments more longer as you both gathered your breath and bearings before he was slowly sliding out of you, his hands releasing you after one final squeeze and gliding across your ass, then completely leaving your body. After that he was spinning you around, hands finding your cheeks to angle your face towards him as he let his eyes roll over inch of your face and body.

“Are you alright?” Kento finally asked, voice still slightly breathy and face still flushed. His hair was even more messed up than before, his shirt wrinkled and you noticed his tie was still wrapped around his fist. He had tucked himself back into his pants and in those few moments you had been shaking against the wall, and you wiggled whenever you blinked into more clarity and he was pulling your skirt back down to shield your modesty.

You grinned dopily up at him, leaning further into him as you stuck your nose into his collarbone, “I’ve never felt better.”

“I didn’t hurt you?” he questioned again, a tilt of concern in his voice whenever you nearly stumbled into him.

“Absolutely not,” you mumbled and wrapping your arms around his waist for a hug, “I would’ve told you if you did.”

He sighed wrapping an arm around your waist and checking his watch whenever he noticed the sun beginning to set, “The Farmer’s Market is probably over by now.” Why did he sound somewhat melancholic?

(Of course, leave it to Nanami Kento to be upset he couldn't go to the Farmer's Market anymore after getting some pussy.)

You rolled your head upwards to study his face, an eyebrow cocking as he looked devilishly handsome in the oncoming sunset, “Are you still worried about that?”

Kento looked back to you, eyebrows knitting together as he started to walk you both of out the alley, “I’m only saying that because you were the one whining whenever I dropped the basket.”

“You didn’t drop it, you slapped a curse with it and then threw it at another one. Besides… not too worried about it since I got something else in the end.”

“Hmm.”

“C’mon, you know you liked it too. Especially when I told you to put –”

“Don’t finish that sentence. Especially since I’m not done with you yet.”

“What. I can barely feel my legs.”

“I know, and after I find my jacket and we report what happened to the school we’re going home where I’m, as you said, ‘putting another baby in you’.”

“Ugh, whatever, but since you get your jacket can I have my panties back, you freak.”

“No. They’re mine.”

“No way you’re gonna make me walk around with no panties on…”

“I am and –”

He slapped your ass again, causing you to jolt and squeal as he leant down and whispered in your ear again as you laughed.

“A single drop of me better not come out of you until we get home.”

[stellamarielu]

handsy

joel miller x female reader

summary: joel is hopelessly touch starved and you just can't seem to keep your hands to yourself.

content: nsfw, 18+, age gap, cursing, mutual pining, mentions of male masturbation, hand job, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, good girl, breeding kink [if you squint]

author's note: hey guys, long story short i’m rewatching tlou and i needed to write some joel miller smut. i mean, aren't we all horny for that old man?

—

To put it quite plainly, Joel was touch starved. 

It had been a long time since he’d felt the hands of a woman on his body. Of course, given the current state of the world, he didn’t have much time to think about it.

But then he was all settled down in Jackson and his days were filled with mundane jobs, casual conversations, cozy living conditions, and you. 

You lived in the little house across the street from him and although your relationship began with awkward smiles and shy waves, Joel found himself getting closer to you over time. 

Now he was lingering on your front porch after you offered him coffee in the mornings and walking you into town when he had absolutely no business there, all to spend a little extra time with you.

From the beginning Joel somehow found himself not entirely annoyed by your persistence in breaking down his walls, and instead indulged in your constant questions and continuous attempts at bad jokes. Maybe it was because he felt bad ignoring your endless efforts to strike up friendly conversation; or perhaps he enjoyed your company because he was lonely, and you were an undeniably gorgeous young woman seeking out his attention. Even he was confused as to why someone like you would be putting so much energy into getting to know him. You were probably lonely too, Joel convinced himself that your friendly advances must’ve come from a place of hunger for basic human interaction. 

He would’ve had no issue fulfilling your need for friendship and community if it weren’t for how handsy you were. Of course, Joel knew your touch was never sexual. It always came from a place of innocence, just a welcoming nudge on the shoulder or a casual hand grazing his bicep. You were just someone who showed your appreciation through simple acts of physical touch, but to Joel those little gestures might as well have been you dropping to your knees in front of him. 

In fact, those thoughtless touches frequently made their way into Joel’s mind late at night when he couldn’t sleep.

He would think about the way your hands felt on his body; how soft and gentle they were. He would think about the way they brushed against his arms or his back, imagining what they’d feel like on his bare skin. He would fight against his own morality as his hand slipped into his pants touching himself at the thought of you. His fingers wrapping around his dick, holding back moans as he pictured it was your tender grip on him instead. 

He was disgusting

That’s what he told himself now, standing in your kitchen with your delicate little hand caressing his forearm as you laughed about something he said that most certainly wasn’t that funny.

You had convinced him to come over for dinner, and who was he to deny a warm meal? But now you were inches away from him at the kitchen sink after you had argued over who would do the dishes. Both of you working together to wash up, and Joel couldn’t keep himself from thinking about the warmth of your body and how soft it felt against his. 

It was all so domestic. You washing the plates then handing them over to him so he could dry and put them away. You were talking and laughing with full bellies and smiles on your faces. It was impossible not to soak in the simplicities of moments like this. And it was definitely impossible to ignore the way his skin was burning under your touch.

You knew you had a way of getting in other people’s personal space; touching others as you spoke to them. It was something you had always done, extending a hand in an effort to show you were listening or engaged. It was just a way of showing your appreciation and attention. Only, it was more than that when it came to Joel. Your relationship with him was strictly platonic, which was a real shame because you desperately wanted to touch him in more inappropriate ways.

You knew it was bad to think about him like that. He was a friend, yet you were constantly picturing what it would feel like to kiss him– to have your hands on him.

In an effort to fulfill these little fantasies, you were always finding ways to touch Joel. Obviously, it was only ever friendly, just softly grabbing his arm when you needed his attention or leaning your body into his when you walked side by side; such small moments of feeling the weight of his body beneath your hands, but it only ever made your secret obsession with him more intense. 

Like right now, your fingers were curling into his forearm as you laughed and you knew you needed to pull your hand away before you trailed it all the way up his arm tracing every inch of muscle as you went. Joel was just so big, and strong, and rough– it drove you fucking insane. You had never felt like this before, so pent up with sexual frustration for someone. It was almost embarrassing how badly you wanted Joel to bend you over the kitchen counter and have his way with you. 

You were ready to loosen your grip on his arm and pull away when you felt something coarse underneath your fingertips.

A scar. One of the many that littered his body.

You had noticed them before, but you had never felt them. Joel was wearing a short-sleeve shirt tonight, something he rarely did. He was always clad in long sleeves or jackets, which made you realize this was the first time you had ever touched the bare skin of his arm. 

Your hand lingered on his forearm and your eyes were fixed on the scar underneath your fingers, and Joel just watched. He watched the way you stared as you felt his skin. And then you were moving your fingertips against him, tracing the mark there, and he had to keep himself from shuddering under your touch.

“There are so many.” Your voice was hushed as you studied him, looking at the scars painted all over his skin.

“Yeah well…” He was trailing off with each stroke of your finger against him, losing his train of thought.

“I’m sorry.” 

The simple apology was all you said, but when your eyes met his, he could see the sympathy swimming in your gaze. You understood. That was one thing Joel appreciated about you more than anything– you understood each other. You respected his boundaries, never pushing him on the things he wasn’t willing to talk about.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” 

His smile was back, so gentle and kind as he looked down at you.

“Can I have my arm back now?” His voice was playful, and you realized you were still holding onto his forearm.

“Oh god, sorry.”

You let go abruptly.

“Sorry, I’m not the best at keeping my hands to myself.” You were joking about your bad habit of touching others too much. 

“I’ve noticed.”

Joel was going back to work, drying a dish and putting it away in an overhead cabinet, avoiding your stare. 

“Oh shit Joel. Sorry does it bother you? I’ll be more mindful from now on.” 

Oh, you were humiliated. All this time Joel was annoyed by your friendly affection and you were just constantly touching him.

“No. no, doesn’t bother me. Just-“ He was speaking as he continued doing dishes, still avoiding eye contact with you.

“Just what?” You were prying, but you didn’t care. That’s how things often went with you and Joel– you asking too many questions and him putting up with it. 

“Nothin’. Just doesn’t bother me that’s all. Don’t worry about it.” 

He was sidestepping the conversation entirely now. But if it didn’t bother him, then what? 

“Joel c’mon what were you gonna say?” 

You were reaching for him again, this time grabbing his bicep. The feeling of his thick, muscular arm in your grasp nearly had your breath hitching in your throat. 

He stopped what he was doing, giving in to your touch and turning to face you completely. His eyes were peering down on you, his expression unreadable. 

“Just distracting. That’s what I was gonna say. Distracting.” He was just staring as he spoke, his voice stoic.

Distracting? Joel was distracted by your touch? 

“But not… in a bad way?” You had to clarify before your mind started going down a rabbit trail.

“No. Not in a bad way.” 

You felt a fluttering sensation fill your chest at his confession.

Was Joel saying he liked when you touched him? That he liked it so much it made him lose focus? There was sudden surge of confidence bursting through you as you ran your hand further up his arm. You found the hem of his sleeve, toying with it between your fingertips.

“How do I distract you?”

Doing your best to make your voice sound innocent you stared at the material of his shirt in your hands, too nervous to actually look him in the eyes. 

“Just don’t know how you’re always so kind and sweet. Your hands are so gentle.” He was speaking quietly.

You allowed your eyes to find his after he complimented you, but you wished you hadn’t.

His gaze was fixed on you, searching your face in a desperate attempt to read the situation. You were inches away from each other, your bodies nearly pressed against one another with your hand still on his arm. 

“Do you think about me in a way friends shouldn’t think about each other?”

The question was trickling from your lips and into the silent room. You were testing the waters, dipping a toe in the potential pool of shared desire. 

“Because I do. I think about you all of the time.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you looked up at Joel. 

“What it’d be like to kiss you, to feel your hands all over my body.”

You let your touch travel up to his shoulder and over to explore the broad expanse of his clothed chest underneath your fingertips. 

“We shouldn’t.” His words were hesitant but his body didn’t move in the slightest.  

“Why not?”

Joel could think of a million reasons why not. Starting with you being half his age and ending with the fact that sex could ruin the perfectly good relationship that had taken months to form between you.

But as he looked down at you, your lips all pouted and your eyes full of hope, he threw all caution to the wind.

Fuck it.

He placed both of his hands on either side of your face, bringing his head down and crashing his lips into yours.

His kiss was hungry and rushed but still somehow tender. Your mind was reeling at the taste of his mouth against yours. Your hands found solace at the nape of his neck, arms slinging up to rest on his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

Your kitchen suddenly felt so hot as the sweltering tension between you and Joel had finally reached it’s peak. 

“Fuck sweetheart if you only knew half the things I thought about you.” His voice was breathless as he broke your kiss.

Joel’s mouth trailed down your jaw placing impatient kisses on your skin. 

“Tell me.” You were practically begging as you moaned at the feeling of his warm lips on your neck.

“Think about those sweet little hands of yours on me.” 

He was nipping and sucking behind your ear. You weren’t sure if it was the way his mouth was caressing your skin or the words he was speaking between kisses, but it had a whine slipping from your lips. 

“Where Joel?” The words were a whimper coming deep within your throat as he continued his assault on your neck. 

“Jesus Christ sweetheart you’re gonna kill me.” He was muttering into the curve of your shoulder and the hum of his words against you had you losing your mind. 

“Do you think about them here?” Gaining just an ounce of composure, your voice was calm and collected as you slid your hands down his torso. 

You were careful to feel every little detail of his body as you let your touch wander lower. The tense muscles of his abdomen were hard to ignore as your hands found the button of his jeans. 

“All the time sweetheart.” He was admitting to his dirty thoughts. Bringing his hands to thread through your hair and pulling your gaze to meet his so you could see the seriousness in his eyes as he spoke. 

“Think about how soft they’d feel wrapped around me.”

Oh. It was prevalent now more than ever that Joel had entered an entirely new headspace. The way he was talking to you, the way he was looking at you; It was all fueled by complete and utter sexual desire, and you couldn’t get enough. You wanted to hear more filthy words come out of his mouth, you needed it. 

“Joel..” You were all but moaning out as you unzipped his pants, eager to get your hands on him.

He was pulling you in for another hungry kiss as you shoved his jeans down just enough to get your hands into the waistband of his underwear. Here you were in the middle of your kitchen with your hands down Joel’s pants– something you didn’t foresee happening when you invited him over earlier that day. But the two of you were so fucking pathetic and needy, having finally given into your feelings for one another. There was no time to waste, you needed to feel every single inch of him right here next to your kitchen sink.

The groan that left his lips when you finally had his cock enveloped in your gentle touch was enough to send a rush through your entire body. You pumped him up and down making sure to maintain a slow pace to purposefully draw another sinful noise from his mouth.

Just as you thought, your mild movements had the man in front of you sighing out in pleasure. It was a sigh of true relief; you wondered about the last time Joel had been with someone like this. The thought spurred you on, making your hand move faster from the excitement of being the first person in a long time to make him feel this way.

Joel’s jaw tensed and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head when your eyes flickered down to his dick. You were watching your own hand as it worked to bring him closer to completion. He wasn’t accustomed to this– having a pretty young thing handling him like this. There was no way he was gonna last long, not with your delicate hands sliding on his cock and your innocent gaze peering down between your bodies. 

In seconds his hand was on your wrist halting your movements. 

“Joel-“

You were ready to protest but your words were caught in your throat as he lifted you onto the kitchen counter. His lips were back on yours in a messy kiss while his hands fumbled with your jeans, practically ripping them from your body. 

“Need to feel ya darlin’.” He was panting out against you when his hand came in contact with your core, the thin material of your panties stopping him from touching your bare center. 

You didn’t have to feel them to know how wet your panties were. They were drenched the second your hand was on Joel’s arm earlier. All you had to do was think about the man and a pool of arousal would appear between your legs.

“Fuck you’re soaked.”

The words were laced with pride as he felt the ruined cloth with his fingertips. You wanted to moan at the feeling of his hand putting even the tiniest bit of pressure against that needy spot between your legs. You wanted some sort of relief– needed to feel him touch you.

As if he could read your mind, Joel was pushing your panties to the side and gliding a finger over the wetness pooling at your opening.

“If I knew you were this needy for me, would have done this a long time ago.”

As the words left his lips he was slipping a single finger into you at an agonizing pace. Slowly moving it in and out while you gripped at his arms for some sort of stability.

Fuck– even just the one finger moving in and out of you insanely slow was enough to have you seeing stars. So when he added a second you nearly dug your nails into Joel’s arm hard enough to leave marks.

His fingers were working into you, each stroke more mind numbing than the last. He was pushing and curling them and the little noises leaving your mouth were absolutely pathetic.

“Your little whimpers are so pretty baby.” 

Baby. All these endearing pet names he was calling you had you falling apart. You were preening underneath Joel’s touch and every time he called you sweetheart, or darlin, or baby, you were further subdued into a state of surrender for him. 

“So pretty’n sweet just for me.” He was mumbling with his fingers knuckles deep inside you.

You could feel the pressure building in your core with each deliberate movement of his fingers. Your gaze found his and the look of need consuming him pushed you closer to the edge. Your eyes were locked on one another, your forehead pressed against his as you gripped his arms tighter. 

“C’mon sweet girl, let me hear it.” Joel’s words were a low growl as he coaxed your orgasm from you.

“Wanna hear the pretty little sounds you make when you come undone.” 

His whisper was the final blow that had you spiraling toward release. You were chanting his name as you clenched around his fingers.

Your chest was heaving, and you could hardly think straight but you didn’t hesitate to pull Joel closer to you.

He was standing between your legs as you sat on your kitchen counter, your chests almost touching and his hard cock inches away from meeting your entrance. 

“Joel please.” You were out of breath and nearly speechless, still shaking from your climax, but you needed the satisfaction of Joel filling you. You wanted more than his fingers.

In an instant, he was lining himself up with you and pushing his tip in just enough to make you groan in pleasure. Hearing you beg for him like that– his name dripping from your sweet lips, Jesus he’d do anything you asked. 

You were moaning out satisfied little hums with each inch of him that filled you. He was pushing into you slowly savoring every pulse of your walls around his cock.

“So tight sweetheart.” His voice was low as he watched between your bodies. His eyes were staring at your sweet little cunt as you sucked him in deeper and deeper, so needy to be filled– so greedy for him.

You could only moan in response. The feeling of him stretching you out had the coil in your abdomen already tightening again.

He was pushing into you to the hilt and you instinctively grabbed at his shoulders, gripping and pulling at him in pleasure. You just needed to feel more of him– all of him. Your hands ached to feel every square inch of his body.

With your fingers splayed out on his back, Joel pulled out only to thrust back into you fully. Doing this over and over again until you were nearly screaming out underneath him. He could feel your fingertips digging into his shoulder blades which only made him drive into you deeper.

He was thrusting and you were a moaning, writhing mess against him, your bodies meshing together on the tile of your kitchen counter. The lewd sounds of whimpers and skin slapping filled the room and all you could think about is how close you were to coming apart again. Your legs clenched around Joel’s waist as your core strained.

Without warning, he brought his hand between you, letting his thumb fall to your clit. He was rubbing lazy circles into your bundle of nerves while his dick repeatedly hit the perfect spot inside you and your body nearly went limp.

“Got another one for me?” His words were broken by grunts.

“Wanna feel you squeeze around me while you cum sweet girl.”

His dirty words were going to shove you right over the edge. With each word he spoke, you pushed yourself closer to the finish line wanting nothing more than to please him.

You felt your body begin to shudder and your second orgasm of the night set in.

“Atta girl. There she is. Good girl.”

That was it. The words of encouragement you needed to completely let go. You were whimpering and gripping onto Joel as your release rushed over you.

The way you were clenching and squeezing around his cock made Joel’s head spin. You were nearly pushing him out, it was so tight and warm and Fuck- he was losing it.

You were barely tethered to earth as he continued sliding in and out of you. His pace was ruthless as he chased his own high. He was fucking you straight through your orgasm, the feeling of it too much for the both of you.

His hands were pawing at your waist, holding onto you as he thrusted relentlessly. The breathy moans and inaudible profanities coming from his mouth signaled his impending release.

You were pulling him in closer with your hands on his back, pushing him into you deeper.

“I want you to cum inside.” You were whining out.

You weren’t sure how you were even forming coherent sentences at this point but the only thing more important than regaining your sanity was the idea of Joel spilling into you when he finished.

“Please Joel, wanna feel it.”

There you were begging for him again. He had absolutely no self control when you spoke to him like that. And when he pulled back to get a good look at you, he almost lost himself entirely. Your gaze was glossed over and your eyelids heavy, you were completely fucked-out on his cock. It was enough to finish him off.

The look in your eyes and the feeling of your walls so tight and inviting around him, had Joel coming undone. He was leaning forward and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let out a long drawn out moan.

His load was shooting into you all wet and warm. It was coating your insides and making you hold on tighter to the man doubled over on top of you.

You sat there, your bodies molding together, breath catching and hearts beating. Both of you in shock over how you ended up in this position after a harmless meal shared at your kitchen table.

“So…” You were still breathless as you spoke, trying to gage how Joel was feeling about your current situation.

“Should probably finish those dishes huh?”

He was picking his head up from the comfort of your shoulder and tilting his neck to motion over to the sink next to you.

He was wearing the goofiest smile all sex drunk and proud.

If Joel’s expression told you anything; that wouldn’t be the last time the two of you end up fucking on your kitchen counter.

my masterlist

[moonlightwritingf1]

Safe with Me | LN4

^ྀི summary ━━━━━━━ Lando has a nightmare and Y/N comforts him.

^ྀི pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

^ྀི word count ━━━━━━━ 1.3k

^ྀི warnings ━━━━━━━ dying in dream?

Based on this request.

"Y/N… Y/N…" 

Lando’s voice was strained, laced with desperation as he thrashed beside her. His fingers clutched the sheets, breath coming in rapid, uneven gasps, sweat dampening his brow.

Y/N jolted awake, heart hammering as she turned toward him. Moonlight filtered through the curtains, illuminating his panicked expression, his eyes still shut—trapped in the grip of whatever nightmare had seized him.

"Lando," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep yet steady. Gently, she placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "Wake up. It’s just a dream. You’re okay."

His eyes snapped open, wide and disoriented, darting around the room before settling on her. His chest heaved, breath ragged, and she instinctively pressed a hand over his heart, feeling its frantic rhythm beneath her palm.

"You’re safe," she reassured him softly. "It was just a dream."

Lando said nothing. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. His face burrowed into the crook of her neck, his body tense, muscles coiled like he was bracing for something terrible. She wrapped her arms around him, one hand tracing slow, soothing circles on his back.

What had shaken him so badly? He was always the one who laughed things off, who masked pressure with humor and a shrug. But here, in the quiet of his Monaco apartment, he seemed... unraveling.

"I’m sorry," he murmured against her skin, breath warm as his lips ghosted her neck. "I didn’t mean to wake you."

"Don’t apologize." She pulled back slightly, brushing damp curls from his forehead. "Talk to me. What happened?"

He hesitated, gaze dropping to the tangled sheets. For a moment, she thought he’d retreat into the familiar armor of indifference, but then he exhaled, shoulders slumping.

"I was in the car," he said, voice low, strained. "Something went wrong. I lost control. I felt the impact, the heat… and then…" He swallowed hard. "I thought I lost everything. I thought I lost you."

Her breath caught. She’d never seen him this vulnerable, his usual bravado stripped away. It terrified her—and made her ache for him in a way she hadn’t expected.

"I’m here," she whispered, cupping his face. "You’re not going to lose me, Lando. Not like that. Not ever."

His eyes searched hers, looking for something—reassurance, an anchor in the storm of his thoughts. Slowly, he nodded, hands gripping her waist as if afraid she might disappear. Foreheads pressed together, their breaths mingled in the quiet.

"I just…" His voice faltered. "Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you. Like I’m not good enough."

The confession hit her like a punch to the gut. She’d spent so long wondering if he truly wanted her, but hearing him voice his own doubts… it shattered something inside her.

"Lando," she breathed, fingers tracing his cheek. "You’re more than enough. You’re incredible. I’m the one who doesn’t feel worthy of you."

His brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

She hesitated, her insecurities bubbling to the surface. "I’m not like the girls you’re used to. I don’t have the confidence, the—"

"Stop." His grip on her shoulders tightened. "You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I need. And I don’t care about anyone else. I never have."

Silence stretched between them, their breaths shallow, uneven. Lando’s hands trembled against her skin, his hold almost desperate.

"You’re going to choke me if you keep squeezing like that," she teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He didn’t laugh, didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, his fingers dug deeper. "Don’t joke," he muttered. "Don’t…"

She sighed, cupping the back of his head, fingers threading through his curls. "I’m not going anywhere, Lando. Ever."

"You don’t know that," he whispered, voice cracking. "I can’t lose you. I can’t."

"You won’t," she promised, her tone leaving no room for argument. She tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Look at me."

He hesitated, then obeyed. The fear in his eyes made her chest ache.

"I love you," she said, firm and unwavering. "Do you hear me? I love you. And whatever nightmare you’re fighting—you’re not fighting it alone."

His breath hitched, throat working as he swallowed hard.

"I thought… I thought I was dead," he admitted. "And then I thought of you. Of not seeing you again. Not holding you. I couldn’t—"

"You’re alive," she interrupted, hands steady on his face. "I’m alive. We’re here. Focus on that. Focus on me."

Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones, wiping away the dampness she hadn’t realized was there. His eyes searched hers, as if trying to ground himself in the reality of her presence.

"You’re real," he whispered.

"Yes," she murmured, pressing her forehead against his. "And I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Lando. Whether you like it or not."

A shaky laugh escaped him—weak, fragile, but real. "I like it," he admitted. "I’ve never liked anything more."

She smiled, trailing her hand down to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her palm. "Good. Because I’m not letting go. Not now, not ever."

He exhaled slowly, the tension in his body easing. His arms tightened around her, but the desperation softened into something deeper, more secure.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice muffled but sincere. "More than anything."

She traced slow circles on his back, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips. "I love you too," she whispered, a vow sealed in the quiet of the room. "You’re it for me, Lando. My forever."

Her words anchored him. The weight he carried seemed to lift as his body gradually relaxed against hers. He didn’t let go, and she didn’t expect him to. She held him, letting the silence speak louder than any reassurance she could give.

Minutes passed, his breathing evening out, his body growing heavy in her arms. Her lips brushed his ear, soft and steady as she whispered, "You're safe with me. Always safe with me." Her voice was a low hum, soothing, like a lullaby for the trembling parts of him. "I’m not going to let anything happen to us, Lando. You’re my everything."

He didn’t speak. His silence was thick, heavy, but his arms around her waist tightened as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded. His breath fanned across her neck, warm and ragged still, but slower now. More controlled. He buried his face deeper into the crook of her shoulder, inhaling her in gulps like a man starved for air.

"That’s it," she murmured, her hand tracing slow, deliberate patterns up and down his back. "Just breathe. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere."

His fingers twitched slightly against her hip, a silent acknowledgment. She pressed her lips to his temple—gentle, lingering. "You’re not alone in this, Lando. Never alone."

Still, he stayed quiet, but his hold on her didn’t falter. It was as if words had abandoned him entirely, leaving him only with the need to feel her close, to remind himself she was real, tangible, his. The weight of his trust pressed into her, wordless but unshakable.

She kept whispering, her voice a steady anchor as his breathing finally slowed and deepened. "I love you," she breathed, soft and fierce all at once. "More than anything. My heart, my life... you’re stuck with me."

Her cheek rested against his head, fingers threading through his damp curls. The night wrapped around them, silent but for the rhythm of their breaths. She didn’t sleep yet—couldn’t. Instead, she stayed like that, holding him as he held her, their quiet unease giving way to something deeper. Something unbreakable.

Pressing a soft kiss to his temple, she whispered, "Sleep. I’m here. I’m not leaving."

His face lifted slightly, eyes searching hers once more. The panic had faded, but its shadow lingered. "Promise?"

She didn’t hesitate. "Promise."

A quiet nod, then his eyes closed as he settled against her, his grip still firm but no longer desperate. His trust in her, in this moment, was unwavering.

She stayed awake, her cheek resting against his head, fingers combing through his hair. And as his breathing deepened into sleep, she realized the full weight of being needed—not as a burden, but as a promise she would never break.

[clockwayswrites]

Danny in Metropolis, ch3 p3

Masterpost bad bad day, so have a bitty bit of feels goo. please no back seat editing, I am in pain and tired ty <3

Danny held out the box with the pie in it towards Kon’s parents. “Um, for desert, as a thank you.”

“Well isn’t that swell of you,” Clark said. He was obviously charmed by Danny, which Kon guessed was good.

“Course, thank you for inviting me for dinner and the night, that’s really nice of you all,” Danny said as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I hope it’s not any bother.”

“Of course not, we’re glad to have you,” Clark said cheerily. He would have looked entirely innocent to the untrained eye, but Kon could see the glimmer in his eyes and was dreaded whatever would come next. “Conner has been talking about you a lot so it’s great to finally meet you.”

Danny ducked his head as if that could hide his faint blush. “Hopefully nothing bad.”

“Dude, of course nothing bad,” Kon said, really hating that Danny blushing made him want to blush. “There’s nothing bad about you to tell. Just talked about school and our project and stuff, you know?”

“And speaking of that project,” Lois said, “I’d love to hear what you all have down about it so far, but also you tell me to shove off if I get too annoying about it.”

“Oh I co—”

“No, Danny, don’t say that,” Kon interrupted Danny and what was inevitably going to be him saying that he couldn’t do that. “You don’t know how intense Lois can get about words.”

Lois shrugged, unrepentant. “I didn’t get my Pulitzers for nothing.”

Danny glanced at Kon and then Lois. He didn’t look shell-shocked, thankfully, but was still being uncharacteristically bashful. Or just uncharacteristic for what Kon knew of Danny?

There really was a not he didn’t know, wasn’t there?

Like why Danny was sick.

“The help will be nice, really Mrs. Lane. English isn’t exactly my best subject these days.”

“Mrs. Lane’,” Lois repeated with a fond (if teasing) grin. “Please, you’re in my house, Lois is fine.”

“I—um, would Miss Lois do?”

Lois tried to cover her laugh with a cough. “Sure, Danny, we can compromise to that for now.”

Kon wondered if Danny could even hold out for the night.

[1d1195]

Pucking Rookie IV

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~8k words

From me: slow burning!!!

Warnings: ANGST violence. CW: Signs of abuse.

Summary: Harry is very hot. Very sweet. VERY protective.

“Hey everyone,” she greeted brightly. “How’s everyone today?” She asked while setting down a tray of eight glasses and two pitchers of water on the table.

“Wonderful, baby, so excited to have you.”

She nearly knocked the glasses over (fortunately, since they were water glasses, they were only plastic). She made eye contact with him and felt her heart completely stop for a few beats. Kael smiled wickedly in return.

Fuck.

She kept her smile in place. “What can I get you to drink?” She asked. After eight years, she already knew what he wanted so she focused on his teammates.

“We were hoping to see The Chargers tonight,” Kael told her. “Do they come here often?”

She didn’t respond. “We have a few specials tonight, so if you have any questions, please let me know,” then she sauntered away to place the drink order.

“Already know what I want, baby?” He called. “That’s so sweet!”

She ignored him. Taking deep breaths she headed to the kitchen. Louis wasn’t in yet. Harry didn’t know she was working. Which meant the rest of the team thought she wasn’t working too. Marc and Michael probably had their suspicions that she was with Harry. So, no one knew she was there. Not really.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was probably just going to be an hour. He had his team with him. It wasn’t like they could have a private conversation in the middle of a restaurant. Yeah, he would probably tease and torture her for the better part of that hour, but she could be civil. She could pretend. She had for ages. He didn’t know she was working for The Chargers—she was sure he had an idea that she might be. But the afternoon set it in stone.

He was such a dick. It was the first time she had seen him face to face since she moved out. Everything about him made her skin crawl and she hated it. Every touch and kiss between them seemed tainted now. All those good memories, dates, hockey games, everything felt ruined. Each interaction was colored now with the hindsight that he didn’t love her. Not the way she did. Not the way she expected him to love her for ever and ever. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve that. She knew she didn’t deserve that.

So why did he make her feel undeserving of it ever again?

*

Kael and his teammates came and went fortunately. Just as she predicted. Only a little over an hour. She refrained from speaking directly to Kael and focused on the group as a whole.

When Kael left, she was well past the feeling of relief. There should have been a stronger word for how liberated she felt. She used the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, and took a moment to process everything. It was just like Kael to come in and make her feel like shit without even trying. Louis was supposed to be in, so at least she had that going for her.

“Hey love,” Louis called. “Everything good?” She probably looked a little shaken, so she wasn’t surprised he asked. She felt shaken.

“Good,” she smiled assuredly. She flitted around the room, ducked behind the bar, and went about her day. It was a busy night, and she wasn’t going to let Kael sour her shift that he had next to nothing to do with. So she didn’t. The next hour ticked on quickly and she was feeling more herself as the time stretched between Kael’s departure and the present.

“Hi baby,” he cooed.

Her arms felt numb almost instantly, she was lucky she didn’t drop her tray. Her fight or flight swept her and just made her freeze. She turned as she had earlier in the day and looked at him. “Hi,” she said curtly. He was alone, which made her nervous.

“I figured you must get a break soon. I’d like to talk.”

“Not for a while. And it’s busy,” at least that wasn’t a lie. “So I might not take one tonight.”

Louis was hurrying about from kitchen to back room, to front of house. It was busy as it could be, but she wanted to keep an eye on him. If Kael got her alone, she wasn’t sure she would be able to control her emotions as well as if she had someone that knew she was not in a situation she wanted to be in just by looking at her. Louis wasn’t Harry, but he would know all the same that she was uncomfortable.

Kael smiled brightly.

Well, at least someone that cared ifshe was uncomfortable.

“I’ll wait,” he offered.

“Great,” she deadpanned.

She went to the back room and wished that there was a group of Chargers there. If she called any of them, she knew they would break curfew and be there for her in a heartbeat. The thought of Kael anywhere near her would make Callie incensed for ruining her day. Niall would be protective in his own way and focused on her. Asher and Lang would get her away from The Locker Room and make sure Kael never set foot there again.

She could hardly imagine what Harry would do to him.

But she lied. She told Harry that she wasn’t working. The routines the boys had had in place prior to her arrival with the team had been disrupted more than she ever anticipated. It was nice they cared but it wasn’t fair to them to upheave their lives for her. She was just the photographer for the team. Their coach’s niece. They didn’t ask to have someone they needed to babysit.

She was an independent, self-sufficient person.

“You okay, love?” Louis asked.

She nodded and flitted around the room taking order and tried not to think about the feeling of Kael’s stare on the back of her head.

*

It was perhaps another hour, and Kael was true to his word in staying put. Fortunately, The Locker Room remained steadily busy. She didn’t have to lie about not taking her break. She foisted him off on another waiter who grew a little tired of him asking for her each time he went over. “Baby,” he snatched her hand as she went by.

She pulled away. “Kael, I’m busy,” she marched away before he could reach for her again.

Without warning a multitude of memories where he snagged her hand over the years filtered through her mind. His grip tight on her arm or hand. Never in a way that any outsider would notice. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered to herself. She was going to call Harry. His wrath would be well worth it. At least Kael was scared of Harry and the team. Especially if he was outnumbered. She was shaking a little as she headed for the kitchen hoping to catch Louis at least.

“Hey,” Kael said grabbing her again as she passed too close to his table. This time he caught a real hold of her arm and pinned it to the table. To any other onlooker it would look like he was just keeping her in place holding onto her hand in almost a romantic kind of way. No one would see how his fingers dug into her skin, how she was feeling the ache of the hard wood against her knuckles and wrist bone like she just lost an arm-wrestling contest. “I just want to talk.”

She wanted nothing less. “Hey, Louis!” She called quickly and loudly enough so that he would be able to hear her over the din of the whole place regardless of where he had gone off too.

Within seconds Louis was there from the back room.

Harry was right beside him. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her arm on the table. Her mouth popped open in shock. She had no clue he was there. Most obviously, she didn’t want him to see this. “Oh fuck,” she whispered and tried to pry her hand away from Kael’s. She squirmed slightly as he refused to release her. He cupped his other hand gently on top of her arm trying to get her to stop.

Harry wasn’t supposed to be here. He was only supposed to come to her rescue because she couldn’t figure out what else she was to do. She was going to hide in the kitchen and wait.

Harry wasn’t supposed to be around Kael.

“Styles,” Kael practically sang. He didn’t release her arm. “Didn’t know you were here. Tough loss today. I hope it’s the same tomorrow, to be honest.”

He didn’t take the bait. His nostrils flared. “Let go of her hand Crowe,” Harry snarled stepping closer to him.

“We were just talking, right baby?” Kael smiled and took his free hand to cup the side of her face. She turned her face away and brushed it away from her skin.

Harry continued to approach him—up close and personal. If they were on the ice the cages of their helmets would have been touching. “Let her go, right fucking now,” his shoulders were heaving.

“It’s fine,” she croaked. Harry didn’t even acknowledge her.

Was he trying to keep it together? Not make a scene, maybe? Harry was quick to anger—like most hockey players. He probably would have torn Kael limb from limb by now if this wasn’t a local place where fans and the rest of the team went.

“Let go of her,” her he repeated, his voice was so deep. His body shaking.

“Harry, I’m fine—”

He ignored her still and Kael continued keeping her in place despite her squirming. She wanted to whimper as he squeezed her tighter and pressed her hand harder into the table. To the untrained eye, you wouldn’t know. But Harry was watching like this was his favorite movie and they were at the climax of the plot. He saw the way she winced and her body bend slightly as he pressed harder. “Mind your fucking business, Styles,” Kael shook his head. “This doesn’t involve—”

“She is m’business. Especially when you’re fucking hurting her,” the whole bar area went silent as they realized one of their favorite celebrities was about to punch the lights out of one of the best names in hockey. “If y’don’t let her go, m’gonna rip your hand off, Crowe. And m’gonna enjoy it,” he promised shaking his head. “Let go of her.”

She wanted to move more but was utterly terrified. Harry could get in serious trouble. Kael wasn’t particularly dangerous, but his grip was making her whole arm ache. Harry’s threat made her stomach swoop; he was so ready to protect her. Of course that was nice, but she wanted to cry. Hurting one of the top professionals in the league (even if Harry was also at the top) was a great way to get a hefty suspension and fine if he was caught.

Just another way she was going to upend his perfectly normal, happy life.

“Harry, stop,” she begged.

“Yeah, Harry, stop,” Kael mimicked. But she inhaled sharply, pulling and moving again uselessly to try and get away from the grip he had on her wrist. She whimpered despite herself as the pain continued. “Mind your business Harry,” he snarled. “M’talking to my girlfriend.”

Harry didn’t acknowledge the comment. “Stop fucking touching her, Crowe.”

“She’s mine. I’ll do whatever I want to her.”

Harry stared at him, his gaze flicking to her wrist still pinned to the table. She was still squirming, looking to get away. Louis reached for her and Harry put his hand on his chest and pushed him away. He walked to the bar, grabbed a shot of whatever the bartender was pouring. His head tipped back as he sucked the liquid down. The quiet clink of his glass hitting the bar was the only sound in the room. Silently, Harry plucked the rings he wore when he wasn’t playing hockey off his fingers. He tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket. It felt like the seconds were ticking by in slow motion. Not even the pain from Kael’s tight grip on her hand was enough to draw her attention away from Harry’s movements.

She swallowed, her eyes pleading with Harry not to do it. It wasn’t that bad. She could take it. The pain she was feeling now was hardly anything in comparison to what he could do. This was nothing.

“One more time, Crowe... Let go. Of her,” Harry’s voice was even. Measured. It had the tone of I’m not asking again.

“She’s mine, Styles. Find someone else to stalk.”

Harry smirked, shook his head, and his eyes flickered to hers for only a second. Then they were back on Kael. “Oh. No. No she’s very much not yours.”

As slow as the seconds had ticked by, they all came rushing back at full speed; maybe time even sped up. Harry delivered a lightning-fast punch to Kael’s nose causing him to gasp and drop her hand as he instinctively reached for his face. With the toe of his boot, Harry tipped his chair before Kael could get his bearings, and he fell flat to his back. The chair broke into pieces with his weight. He gasped, trying to right himself and protect his nose from bleeding everywhere. Harry reached down before Kael could get a grip. He yanked him up by the collar and front of his shirt. A stupid, ugly orange and blue sweatshirt that Harry was delighted to wrinkle hard in his hands. Before Kael was barely on his feet, Harry hauled him backward. Shoved him hard into the bar so the edge dug into his spine, no doubt. Without pause, Harry delivered a solid punch to his cheek, a heel stomp to his foot, and knee to his stomach.    

Kael bent forward, gasping for air and Harry’s breathing was as even as if he was sleeping.

Her hand went to her mouth and the other to her stomach as she tried to hold herself together. Everyone looked in pure shock. Surely someone was supposed to try and stop Harry. Even if he was a hockey player for the town that everyone loved. But given he incapacitated Kael in a matter of thirty seconds it wasn’t like anyone wanted to try and stop him. Even Louis was speechless and looked in horror. “Are y’gonna touch her again?” He didn’t say anything, which was the wrong answer as Harry twisted him in an instant, pressing his face down into the bar, pulling his arm back behind his body. “I said, are y’gonna touch her again?”

“No,” he rasped.

“M’letting y’keep your hand. Don’t make me regret it,” he snapped and shoved him a final time into the bar. He dropped a few hundreds on the bar for the damage and his drink. “Louis, keep the change,” he muttered over his shoulder without sparing another glance at Kael. “S’time t’go, Bunny,” he murmured lowly for no one else to hear but her. He placed an arm around her waist, and tugged her toward the exit. Every pair of eyes followed them.

“B-but m-my shift—”

Without missing a beat, he grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and stuffed it in the front pocket of her apron. “Let’s go,” he repeated and ushered her outside.

Harry opened his passenger door and gestured for her to get in.

She looked nervous, which made Harry uneasy. This strong, brave woman who bantered with unruly hockey players and dealt with fans and drunk patrons looked a bit lost. “What about my car— I mean... your other—”

“Get in the car, Rookie,” he ordered.

She followed his direction. Harry waited until she was safely buckled inside before closing her in. He locked the door for the short walk around his car, only unlocking it so he could slip inside. Once seated and buckled, he turned the car on and immediately exited the parking lot. After driving in silence for several moments Harry dropped his hand on her thigh like it was an instinct.

He didn’t ask if she was okay. Which was kind of him, because how could she be? Her heart was thudding in her chest, her wrist hurt, and her brain was a mess. Harry’s hand on her leg should have made her uncomfortable given he didn’t ask. But it was almost too comforting, and she dreaded the idea that he would have to let go of her eventually.

“Don’t y’dare cry over him, bunny,” his voice was tight.

She sniffled, not realizing she was, in fact, crying. She swiped her hands across her cheeks. “Sorry,” she whispered looking toward the window.

Harry shook his head and sighed. His hand squeezed her leg while he pressed his head back into the seat hard—if the head rest wasn’t there and he didn’t have to watch the road, she was certain his eyes would be facing the ceiling of his car, searching for strength somewhere above him. His jawline seemed sharper than ever as he clenched his teeth. “Y’don’t have t’apologize.”

“Thank you,” she croaked quietly. “For doing that, I...” she swallowed hard. “I don’t really know what I would have done,” she admitted. The scenario didn’t seem to play out in full if Harry wasn’t there. Yeah, Louis would have helped, but this was different. Harry didn’t say anything. She pulled his wallet out of her apron and placed it in one of the cup holders between them. “I don’t want—”

“It’s yours.”

 “Harry, it’s not that—”

“Bunny, I haven’t stopped thinking ‘bout you all afternoon. Since I met you, really. I can’t stop. I used t’think ‘bout nothing but hockey. But s’like you’re the only thing on m’mind now. M’happy when I see you around the rink taking pictures. M’happy when y’try t’skate on m’pond. I love our lessons, and I want t’have y’in my house all the time. M’happy when you’re around. Happier than I’ve been in years, and I didn’t even know I wasn’t completely happy. I can’t have one-night stands anymore. I tried, I did. You’re a long shot. I know that. Someone who deserves a guy so much better than a hot-tempered hockey player as evident by the piece of shit that hurt you in so many ways,” His voice is quiet. “S’not a secret I like you. A lot. If we can only be friends and roommates—because m’sure as hell not bringing y’back to that sorry excuse of an apartment—then s'what I’ll do.”

There was only a brief beat of silence while she contemplated all he said. “I worked really hard on my apartment,” she whispered.

This seemed to soften him a little. He sighed. “It’s adorable, Bunny. It is. But m’constantly worried you’re going t’be kidnapped, robbed, or worse. You can move in this week,” he insisted. “I have the day off after tomorrow and I was going t’spend it at the gym t’lift with the guys so we can pack and move your shit all the same instead.”

“Harry, I don’t think that will work... I have to pay out the rest of my lease if I move out early.”

“That’s bullshit,” he scoffed. She didn’t say anything. Because she kind of agreed that it was bullshit. But she couldn’t move in with Harry. Not when he just admitted he liked her the way she did. It set her heart into a dramatic flutter. Being legally bound would hopefully be enough of a reason for Harry to agree to let her stay until her lease ran out. Then she could figure out her next steps. “Fine,” he decided after a moment. “The black debit card in m’wallet will take care of it.”

She snorted unable to hide her shock. “Harry, you can’t—”

“M’done arguing with you ‘bout this, Bunny.” She frowned and looked at her hand, turning her wrist and wincing ever so slightly. “Is your wrist okay?” He asked.

She shrugged and answered instinctively. “It hurts; but I’ve had worse,” she gasped at her own mistake almost instantly. “Oh fuck, I mean—” she stopped speaking. It didn’t matter. It was too late. Harry saw through it and understood exactly what she meant. He clenched the steering wheel tighter and he swallowed. The bob in his throat looked like he was drinking a glass of nails.

“Did he ever hurt you like this before?” Harry’s voice was an octave lower than she ever heard it. His eyes narrowed as he stared forward.

She didn’t want to make matters any worse, so she didn’t speak. Didn’t move. For several seconds, the car seemed so silent it was as if the tires weren’t even on the ground anymore or if she was breathing.

“Harry,” she whispered eventually.

Harry took a deep breath not liking the tone of her voice and pulled off to the side of the road.

“What are we— Harry!”

Before she could understand what was happening, Harry was outside and opening his trunk and the car doors locked her inside. Instantly, he pulled out one of the back-up sticks he had in case his two in the locker room broke in the middle of a game (or if he wanted to practice while he was home on the pond out back). He slammed it hard on the pavement multiple times grunting as he did until the stick snapped. Then he grabbed a second and repeated this process again, swearing and cursing like he was imagining Kael was under the stick.

Once satisfied with his destruction, he collected the broken pieces and dropped them in the back before sitting in the driver’s seat again, his breathing only slightly elevated.

She stared at him wildly. Her eyes were wide and beautiful. “If he touches you again, m’killing him,” he said simply. It was a promise. His breath was heavy from the exertion.

She nodded; Harry put the car in drive and continued back toward his place. His hand went right back on her thigh, which she still found comforting and warm, even though she had only had the luxury of his hand on her for no more than a few minutes. “Okay,” she whispered hoping there wouldn’t be an again to speak of.

Harry let the silence linger again. “My apartment is the other way,” she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. “I just told you, Rookie, y’not living there anymore.”

“Oh my God, Harry. You can’t be serious.”

He snorted. “No. I am. As a heart attack.”

“Harry I can’t move in—”

“Of course, y’can. I have like five bedrooms. Pick one. Pick three for all I care.”

She swallowed. “What if I pick your bedroom?” She was attempting to lighten the mood, maybe. Harry wasn’t sure. Or maybe she was trying (and failing) to be annoying. But Harry was never annoyed by her. He was amused at worst. She was adorable. Every little thing she did was adorable.

“Then it’s yours,” he shrugged. He was hardly home during the season anyway. With his niece, Mum, and Gem out of town, he wasn’t home much in the off-season either. He could easily move into another room if she wanted his. In fact, he probably would give her his room. It wasn’t the only one with a bathroom, but it had a nice tub that he knew was being wasted without proper use and it felt like she deserved a relaxing night to soak in the tub until she got pruney and everything else that stressed her in her life disappeared.

“I thought you didn’t bring women home to stay,” she reminded him.

“Never had one that I wanted t’bring home,” he shrugged.

She pressed her head to the window. He was quick. Didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll stay tonight, but I’m not moving in. My uncle is going to kill you.”

He shrugged. “S’a long line of Glacier Wolves who’ll want t’kill me before him.” She giggled softly under her breath. Harry glanced at her peripherally and smirked at the little smile that graced her lips. “M’niece is over a lot in the off season,” he told her. “Gem and Mum come by too. So s’had women there before.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Then, yeah. Never had a woman I wanted to bring home,” he repeated. Harry parked in his driveway, turned to her, his hand still on her thigh and honestly, she never wanted it to move.

“Are we still friends?” She blurted. He just admitted he liked her. It was no secret she liked him too. It could make things very awkward going forward so she wouldn’t blame him if he really didn’t want to be friends any longer.

“What a weird fucking question, Rookie,” he shook his head.

“Can you just tell me?”

“Yes, we’re still fucking friends. Despite the fact I would love t’be more.”

She closed her eyes. “He really fucked me up, Harry,” she whispered. “He... he wanted some trophy girlfriend that doted on him and worshipped him for being a good hockey player. He didn’t want me to be my own person. He didn’t want me to have my own hobbies or interests. Like I was nothing, a nobody—”

“Rookie,” he whispered.

“—and I just let him treat me that way. Because it was easier than confronting it—”

“Rookie.”

“—So I don’t want to keep falling for you because you... you’re so talented and you will overshadow me and you should. But it’s so fucking cold living in the shadow of someone else and I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

He winced. “Bunny,” he wanted her to stop.

“I don’t love that nickname either,” she sighed. “I want to. It’s cute and it’s even cuter when you say it. But the connotation of being a puck bunny is just more of what Kael insinuated and I don’t—”

“I don’t think you are a puck bunny. S’not why I call you that. Y’wrinkle your nose like a bunny when y’concentrate. S’the first thing I noticed when I met y’taking pictures rink-side. And you’re always going and going like the little Energizer bunny. But mostly, s’because you’re so fucking cute like a bunny. S’honestly nearly nauseating sometimes.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She swallowed trying to keep all the feelings of falling for another hockey player at bay. “So, I make you sick?”

He smiled. “Excessively.”

“And you want me anyway?”

“Excessively,” he whispered cupping her face. She leaned into the touch, closed her eyes, and sank into the way his hand caressed her cheek for a moment.

Sighing, she opened her eyes and looked at him shyly. “You probably know that he cheated on me,” she reminded him. “And the worst of it, I don’t know if it was the first time, and I don’t want to know. Because I already felt stupid for letting him belittle me and letting me forget parts of myself.”

Harry tilted his head back fully staring at the ceiling for a moment. “Yeah...” And now Harry knew this wasn’t the first time he had hurt her either. Whether it was intentional or not.

“And...” she swallowed. “I don’t think you’re like him... if you take anything away from this conversation, please know that I think you’re nothing like him. You’re up front about most of everything. He kept things from me. But... you’re you and you could have any woman you want in any city you want. I don’t fault you for that—I really hope you know that... but I don’t want to be a number anymore, Harry. I don’t want to feel like an idiot, and I don’t think you would intentionally make me feel like an idiot but—”

“Bunny,” he interrupted, turning back to gaze into her eyes so intensely it felt like everything around them disappeared except for the space between them. The seriousness in his green eyes made her stomach flip. They seemed darker. Like the color was changing to a darker shade to explain how serious he was and how he meant every word that spilled from his mouth. “I think you’re brilliant,” he whispered. “In every facet of your life. I’ve thought about nothing but hockey m’whole life. It has been eat, sleep, and breathe ice, pucks, and sticks. The second I met you, every thought has been ‘bout you,” he reminded her. “If I never played another game of hockey, I really think I would be okay s’long as y’were around.”

Her heart felt like it was broken and whole all at the same time. It was too sweet. She bit the inside of her lip. “Well, I don’t want that,” she whispered. “You’re quite good,” she reminded him.

He chuckled. “The point remains, Rookie... I want you t’have everything y’could possibly want. I want t’do anything I can t’help y’achieve anything y’want t’do.”

She looked at her lap. “I can’t believe you went to get a drink.”

“I really didn’t think y’would be there... was hoping I’d run into Louis and maybe he would know if y’were okay. Y’never answered my texts. Didn’t tell me y’made it home.” he frowned. “Why did y’lie t’me, Bunny?”

She took a deep breath. “The whole team has been so nice to me,” she whispered. “I’m not really used to that...” she trailed off. “Callie got so many penalties, you had to interrupt your post-game cool down to walk me to your car, everyone wants to take shifts to watch me... you have to drive me home, give me one of your car... I’ve seriously disrupted your lives... and it was all just too much today. I don’t want to bother you guys. You didn’t sign up to have a kid or a pet you need to watch. Uncle Charlie didn’t have to give me a job with a hockey team. I feel like I didn’t earn anything. It’s so sweet that all of you care, but it’s weird for me...”

God, she was cute. Even sad she was cute. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Y’haven’t disrupted our lives,” he promised. “We’d do this for anyone.”

“That’s comforting I suppose.”

“C’mon, s’late... we have a game tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Harry,” she whispered.

“Course, Rookie,” he squeezed her leg one more time and then got out of the car. (As she predicted, she hated the feeling of Harry’s hand anywhere else but her thigh.)

Entering his house, Harry kicked off his shoes and headed down the hall toward the bedrooms. She texted her group chat with Michael and Marc as she flopped onto the couch until she got more direction from Harry.

I’m at someone’s house for the night so don’t worry about me.

Michael reacted to her message with a thumbs up.

It better be a HOT hockey player.

Michael reacted to Marc’s message with a thumbs down.

Good night, Marc!

I want every INCH of detail

That earned a vomiting emoji from Michael. I do NOT want any details.

GOOD NIGHT MARC

*

Harry hated that he had a big house. If they were at her apartment, they could have been squished in her bed right then. She wouldn’t be down the hall and half of Harry’s mattress wouldn’t have felt so cold. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. Fortunately, his phone vibrated almost immediately. Like she somehow knew he was awake.

Are you awake?

M-hmm

Can we get breakfast, please?

Harry would throw himself down a set of stairs for her if she asked. “You could jus’ come in here t’ask,” he called.

“I’m creating boundaries!” She answered from a guest room. “Besides this bed is comfy and I don’t want to get up,” she giggled.

“Well, I don’t want boundaries,” he grumbled to himself. He wondered if she slept without pants on. Not that it mattered. He was turned on by the thought of her naked in his bed or if she was in a full snow suit.

“What did you say?” She called.

“Nothing,” he grumbled and pressed the palm of his hand over the front of his shorts willing the blood to rush anywhere but his dick at the thought of her in a goddamn snow suit. “I just have t’shower,” he mumbled.

“Okay, I’ll be here,” she sighed, and Harry could picture her snuggling herself further into the mattress. Maybe it was for the best she was in another room. If she was there looking all cute and cuddly on his bed, he would have to quit hockey. He would probably spend the rest of his life worshipping her on his mattress in every possible way.

Plus, his dick would never be anything but hard.

“Jesus, fuck,” he sighed to himself under the spray of the warm shower. He tried to think about anything but her pretty self in the other room. In his house. In his bed. In his clothes. She was probably changing into her uniform from the night before, so at least he wouldn’t see her in the shirt and shorts he gave her to wear for bed.

He shook his head and focused on shower and not what it would feel like to press her against the tile or—

“Fuuuuck,” he touched his forehead against the tile. Hockey. Defense. Goals. Niall. That’s good. Niall, gross. Callie—FUCK Callie. Asher owes me ten dollars for betting Lang wouldn’t say “good effort” in their pool game the other day.

His shower took twice as long to shower because he had to actively think about something other than his pretty friend. Once he was out, he slipped into a pair of sweats and one of his long sleeve practice shirts. As he put on his deodorant, he realized it took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize what she was doing as he got dressed. “Rookie, you are not,” he called as he hurried down the hall.

“Not what?” She asked innocently.

“Doing my dish—Rookie, what the hell!”

“They were just there! And I was bored, Harry. Plus, you didn’t say I couldn’t!”

“I told you last time.”

“Well yeah, but that was last time.”

“Please stop,” he begged and rubbed a hand over his face. “We’re supposed t’be going t’breakfast.”

“Well, I figured while you took two years to get ready,” it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes max but maybe his effort to not think about her in his shower took longer than he thought, “I would make myself useful,” she shrugged and set the final dish on the drying rack beside his sink. She turned the water off and ran the dishtowel over the counter and edge surrounding the sink. She turned, leaning against the counter. Her black and silver uniform top for The Locker Room was on her again. Her leggings from the night before clung to her legs like a second skin.

He wondered how she could look so cute after working a hectic, busy shift, then slept all night and it barely looked like she had a hair out of place. “What?” She asked looking down at her shirt. “Do I have something on this? We’ll have to stop at my apartment first if I do. I’m not going out with you to breakfast when you look hot and I look like trash,” she frowned.

He snorted. “Y’don’t look like trash, Rookie.”

“Well, do I smell or something?”

“No,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You’re beautiful. Stunning really,” he shrugged one shoulder and reached out to touch her face. He skimmed his thumb along her cheek wishing he could lean in and kiss her until they were both breathless. He smiled softly enjoying the way her cheek warmed under his touch. For someone so snarky, she was awfully shy. “Let’s go,” he tilted his head toward the main hallway. He made his way before she could read into it as he was sure she was wont to do.

Harry opened her passenger door and smiled wickedly at her as she got in. “What?” She asked, her eyebrows pinching together.

“You think I’m hot,” he sang.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Harry chuckled, closing her inside.

*

Kael didn’t play because he was injured. The report sustained it happened at practice the day before but everyone on The Chargers bench knew. Kael kept his gear on but moved to the end of the bench for the starters and lines of his teammates that would be playing. He hardly cheered, hardly moved.

The rest of The Wolves sent death glares to everyone on the team. Harry was checked into the boards more times than he could count. But every time he caught sight of the pretty photographer twirling her wrist in between photos, he felt grateful for each hit. She continued to take pictures, placing her camera into the cutouts of the glass around the ice.

Kael hid from pictures from his own media specialist, the news outlets, and even the fans during the game and in between periods.

“Coward,” Asher growled as they left the ice and headed to the locker room at the end of the game. The group that typically resided in the back of The Locker Room was livid when they found out from Harry that Kael hurt her. They too must have seen the way she twisted her wrist around between pictures. Harry wondered if she noticed she was doing it. It ate at him that it wasn’t the first time that piece of garbage hurt her. There was nothing Harry could do—well, maybe if he ever did figure out time travel, he could. But for now, he could take the hits from Kael’s stupid team and make sure the pretty photographer was okay.

Besides.

He may have had a tough game physically, but Harry was truly on cloud nine.

“Sweetheart, you good?” Lang called from the front of the line heading back toward the locker room.

“I’m good!” She answered.

Harry didn’t even care that Niall was walking alongside her and not him. Or that Callie gave her arm a squeeze when he walked by. It didn’t bother him that Asher was as irate as him either.

Because the word Styles was on her body. It was purposeful. If Kael paid attention, he would see it. He would know she supported Harry, regardless of how outlandish it was (or wasn’t) that he defended her last night. Harry knew the second he saw it, that Kael was going to look at the pretty girl with his number on her and start fuming in his seat. Maybe that’s why his team aimed for him so vehemently throughout the game as well.

Whatever, Harry could take it.

It was well worth it to see his name on her jersey.

Harry realized it was his time to shine after they went out for breakfast. He drove her to get her car at Louis’. He followed her home to the shady apartment building. He wasn’t in the mindset to leave her for any bit of time given the night before. Maybe not for a good few days either if he had it his way. They had away games coming up so they would be all but trapped together on a plane, a bus, and in a hotel so that was in his favor.

He really hoped she would be in a nearby room at the hotel. Or better yet, there wouldn’t be enough rooms, and he could share his with her.

“Why’d you choose eleven?” She asked when she came out of her room after getting ready. She was fluffing her pretty hair and tugging at the hem of the jersey that she had put on. It took a moment to register in Harry’s mind that she was talking to him and was anticipating a response. In her mind, it was no big deal that she was nonchalantly wearing his name and number. That she was by far the prettiest thing he had ever seen. The sweetest person he knew.

He swore his heart skipped a beat as his vision refocused on the lovely girl wearing his name on her back.

He cleared his throat. “S’the first number I ever got,” he shrugged. “But now I say m’so good, m’number twice.”

She grinned and laughed quietly under her breath as she put earrings on with The Chargers logo. “I like that. You are very good. I’ve seen a lot of hockey myself. I like to think I’m a good judge of ability.”

When Harry was younger, he thought if he could have a superpower, he would want to time travel. As he got older it changed a bit, he wanted super strength so he could be the strongest hockey player. Read minds so he could predict the movements of opponents on the ice. Since he met her, he returned to the tried and true: if he could time travel, he could figure out twenty seconds after he kissed her if she hated him or kiss him back, he would have done it right then.

He smirked. “So m’the lucky one today?” He asked pulling on the sleeve.

“I don’t know, does wearing someone’s jerseys constitute as lucky for the day?”

He nodded. “Yeah, very much so, Rookie.”

“Then sure; you’re very lucky, Harry,” she rolled her eyes.

Harry had to bite the inside of his lip to keep his smile from splitting his face in half. He turned away slightly and caught sight of a string of pictures on her little kitchen bar. “What’s all this?” He asked, picking up a photo and inspecting it. It was one of the ones she took while Harry was practicing before the rest of the team showed up. Another photo she got laying down on the ice of Callie’s skates when Harry wanted to rip his teammate’s arm off for holding her so close that day. One from Niall’s empty net. Another of Asher’s locker, his jersey on display. A close up of the C on Lang’s jersey. One of just the empty rink—no fans, no players, nothing.

“Oh... I don’t know,” she looked away shyly piling them together. “I was playing with the idea of making a series of photos,” she flipped one over to indicate the back showed the number three in the line. “You guys are attractive and stuff, but I thought there was a lot of beauty in the little things behind the bench, you know? It’s not just fights and points. The rink is so pretty,” she shrugged.

Harry grabbed her hand before she could stack any more of them away. He looked at each of the pictures painstakingly selected from the hundreds of photos she took each day. The way the light shone off a helmet, the way a shadow fell on the bench. “They’re beautiful, Bunny. Why don’t y’do it?”

“Do what?”

“Make it a series?”

She shook her head. “No... I don’t know. Not many people care about sports photography,” she shrugged. “Not like this anyway.”

“Rookie, I think every team owner and manager in the league would pay t’have this set in their arena.”

“No way, there’s not a single headshot of a star player. In sports, the only thing that really sells by far is you guys and your pretty faces,” she patted his cheek. “It’s tragic, I have some incredible photos of a few baseball diamonds at sunset. But there’s no fans and no players so it just wouldn’t sell well.”

“Show me,” he urged.

She sighed and put her jacket over “We’re going to be late, Harry. Uncle Charlie is already going to be annoyed with me that I’m wearing your jersey. And so will the rest of the team.”

“They all had their turn, Rookie, y’made me wait forever,” he grumbled. They didn’t have to be annoyed. They didn’t have a crush on her the way Harry did. They all knew that. His teammates were his family, but they made him cranky no less; teasing him about how smitten he was about their photographer.

She smiled sadly. “Harry,” she sighed. “I’ll show you another time.”

“Promise?” He pleaded.

“Promise?” She repeated in disbelief. Harry was nearly thirty years old and sounded like he was in kindergarten.

“Promise you’ll show me,” he said pointedly.

“Alright, yeah," She shook her head, sighed with a smile still on her lips. "I promise.”

--

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If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[fleshengine]

Genuinely though. Not every cis woman wants tits, some want facial hair, some want a dick, they don’t have to be trans but they could transition. Look at butch lesbians! Men too! Some guys want tits, or don’t like their facial hair, or don’t want their dicks! I don’t care! Do what you want! I want to live in a world where people customize themselves with little to no effort or consequence and no judgment from others.

There was a throwaway line in Ancillary Justice that mentioned how people in Radchaai society could get their reproductive organs swapped out whenever they wanted and that Breq didn’t know or care what anyone had. It was a relief to her, to not have to care about the physical gender of whoever she was talking to. (The Radchaai are a monogender society, the only arguable gender binary is between human and AI.)

I want that, the ability to relax into a society that sees gender the way I do.

"you don't have to transition to be trans": overdone, dull, runs cover for taking away medical care from those who need it

"you don't have to be trans to transition": exciting, poignant, radical perspective on the right to bodily autonomy

[explicit-tae]

Family Matters

The only way Yoongi, your brother-in-law, would agree to be your sperm donor is if he could be the one to fuck said sperm into you.

Word Count: 8.686

Warning: affair/cheating, kissing, light alcohol intake, dirty talking, impregnation kink, oral sex (f/m) nipple sucking, unprotected sex, creampie, missionary, cowgirl, overstimulation, fingering, doggystyle, orgasms,

Valentine's Day Masterlist

 “Y/N…?”  

The last person he was expecting to see at his door was you, his brother’s wife. The same brother he is currently estranged from thanks to his parents, who had pinned them against one another the entirety of their lives. 

Yo-han, Yoongi’s older brother, wasn’t the prodigal son in their parents' eyes. Yoongi was. Yo-han did exactly what was expected of him. He had high grades in school while Yoongi didn’t, though it didn’t mean he didn’t pass. Yo-han went above and beyond with his studies while Yoongi did enough to pass. His B’s didn’t compare to his brothers A’s.

Yo-han went to college and was on the dean’s list. He worked his way up from the bottom just as his parents desired. He had a high paying job right outside of college and was able to give back to the parents that gave everything they could to their two sons.

Yoongi, however, went down an unforgivable path. How dare their son have his own dreams and aspirations. How dare he not want to go to college like his elder brother and work his way up the corporate ladder? Why would he spend nearly a decade of his life pursuing a career in music when obviously that wasn’t going to take him anywhere in life?

Even now, after his music did take off and touring the world, there was a loneliness in him. He felt that even now that he’s proven himself worthy, his parent’s didn’t think so.

“Yoongi.” you flash him a smile, holding onto your purse a bit tighter. You’re unsure if you being here was appropriate. You’ve only ever seen Yoongi a handful of times, all in which was left with the man leaving far too early. He wasn’t even present on your wedding day. “Are you busy?”

Yoongi blinks a few times and proceeds to open the door to his home a bit wider. “Did you want to come in?” he asks, uncertain if that’s what you wanted.

“Yes, thank you!” you nod. “I wanted to talk to you about something if that was okay with you?”

Yoongi steps out of the way as you enter, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor as you enter the foyer of his home. You take them off, turning towards Yoongi with a small grin.

“I don’t mean to seem rude, Y/N,” Yoongi begins, closing the front door to his home. It’s lavish, you’d admit, high ceilings and furnished quite modernly. “but why are you here? Is Yo-han okay?”

Yoongi allows you to come deeper into his home. The living space is large and homely. He offers you a seat on his leather chair and he rounds the corner to a bar area where there’s an array of wine aligning the wall.

“Wine?” Yoongi questions. “I have…harder liquor, too.” he’s a bit awkward when speaking with you. You were his brother’s wife for nearly five years now and he has no relationship with you.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Whiskey it is then.”

Wasn’t expecting that, especially at this time, but you aren’t going to complain. Yoongi places two clear cups onto the coffee table in front of each of you as he sits across from you. He pours the whiskey in two clear glasses and slides you one. 

“What do I owe the visit, Y/N?” Yoongi asks, taking a sip of his drink.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” you murmur, manicured hands grasping the glass and shaking it around a bit. “Yo-han doesn’t know I’m here. He’s on a business trip.”

Yoongi furrows a brow. He watches you for a moment, pondering why you are telling him all of this and what was the real reason you were here.

“You…are a very amazing artist.”

Yoongi blinks. 

“Did you come all this way to tell me that?” Yoongi questions with a scoff.

“No, I’m sorry.” you murmur. You drink the whiskey in whole. It hits your throat and burns immediately, but you need all the liquid courage available. “Can I have more?”

Nodding slowly, Yoongi watches as you pour yourself more and down half of it. Your chest heaves a bit.

“Is everything okay, Y/N? You look nervous?” Yoongi notes. “Is everything alright with you and Yo-han?”

You nod hastily with a wave. “Yes, everything is fine. Promise.” you laugh, but even you sound unsure of yourself. 

Yoongi doesn’t pry any further.

“You don’t come around often, Yoongi.” you state. “I feel as if I don’t truly know you personally. I see you as Suga. Or Agust D.”

Yoongi furrows his brows. Was that why you’re here? To get to know him better? Even after all these years he finds it unbelievable, but possible.

“I’m aware. I’m sure you know I’m not the favorite.” Yoongi responds, almost bitterly. “Even after the home I bought my parents.”

The last line was uncalled for. By social media posts, Yoongi’s sure you have a good relationship with his parents, but everything that glitter isn’t exactly gold, right?

“Yo-han speaks of you fondly.”

“Does he?” Yoongi snickers. He drinks the whiskey and decides that he should probably follow your lead. “That’s nice to know, right? My older brother finally sees me as worthy enough to speak about after my success.”

Your foot taps lightly against the floor in nervousness. You bite your lip. Was this the right thing to ask without your husband's approval? You knew Yo-han loved his brother, but at times he would joke about how long it took for Yoongi’s music to take off, no matter how good said music was.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

Yoongi is silent on your question. It comes randomly after a few moments of silent drinking. 

“I apologize if that’s too personal-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Yoongi shakes his head. “No, I do not. I often shut myself into my craft too long. I’m a perfectionist and I don’t really have time to settle down.”

You nod in agreement. You noticed in Yoongi’s music how serious he took it - the touring, as well. Having a family wasn’t something he desired now and you could respect it fully.

“What about you and Yo-han?” Yoongi speaks up. “Are you trying for a baby? My mother always said she wanted to be a grandmother.” he chuckles a bit at how hard his mother can be.

You inhale deeply, placing the cup onto the coffee table. Exhaling, you nod your head.

“That’s what I wanted to speak with you about, actually.”

“Oh?” Yoongi furrows a single brow. He leans back into his seat. “I take it as you aren’t pregnant now for obvious reason.” he says, motioning to the liquor on the coffee table and your empty glass.

“You’re right, not yet.” you chuckle humorlessly. You needed to do this. No going back. After all, the worst thing Yoongi could say was “no” and that would be perfectly fine with you. “Yo-han works a lot.”

Yoongi nods a bit. “I understand. Our family can be workaholics.” he says. “He couldn’t take Valentine’s Day off?” he jokes a bit. Valentine’s day didn’t matter to people like him. He was single.

“He never does.” you admit, crossing your legs. Yoongi tilts his head, observing the look in your eyes. “We tend to celebrate it the first week of February then he’s out of town for work the following week.”

“You can’t go with him?” Yoongi questions with a shrug. He knows you don’t work. Yo-han had always stated that he wanted a stay at home wife. Life could be boring for you, he’s sure. You were alone often and didn’t have anything to do if you weren’t one that was big on hobbies.

“Yo-han prefers for me to stay home.”

“You say his name a lot.” Yoongi hums. He pours himself another shot. “You say what he wants a lot, too, Y/N. You haven’t said anything you wanted yet.”

You bite your bottom lip as Yoongi states the obvious. He drinks his whiskey as he watches you, awaiting for you to respond.

“I want a baby.”

Yoongi licks his lips of the whiskey. It’s beginning to fall down his throat like water now. 

“That’s nice. Are you two trying for one?”

Speaking with you was becoming more relaxing. He wished he would have more of a brother/sister-in-law relationship with you prior to now, but maybe you coming here was an attempt in doing just that.

“Yo-han-”

“Doesn’t want kids? Doesn’t want kids now?” Yoongi finishes your sentence with a furrow of his brows. His lips turn into a smirk. “Am I right?”

“You are.” you sigh, body warm with embarrassment. “He…he’s very cautious. He doesn’t even…” Should you be discussing your husband with his brother like this? “...allow himself to not wear condoms.”

Yoongi doesn’t want to appear rude when he laughs, but it sounds exactly like the Yo-han he knows. The same Yo-han that doesn’t want to have anyone stop him from climbing to the top - not even if it’s what his own wife wants. The same wife he forces to stay home alone half of the time. You couldn’t make any of this up.

“I was correct when I said everything that glitter isn’t gold.” Yoongi murmurs to himself, deciding to pour himself another shot. This time, he pours you one. Seemed like you needed it. “Do you have friends?”

You scoff at his question, taking the glass and downing the shot alongside him. “Are you calling me a lonely bitch?”

Yoongi laughs aloud while shaking his head. “Of course not!” he exclaims. “You being here…is not what I expected. It’s nice, though. Not everyone can keep up with drinking with me.”

You notice how much Yoongi and Yo-han looked alike. The dark hair that frames their face with eyes to match. Pale, smooth skin that appears like glass as it’s clear of blemishes. Yoongi was much more youthful, allowing himself to  joke with you in a way your husband doesn’t.

“My friends are all busy with their own lives and children.” you state with a shrug. “I’m sorry I’ve come unannounced.”

“You’re always welcomed, Y/N. You’re family.” Yoongi waves off. “You’re the only family that comes.”

The pair of you both sound bitter for your own reasonings. Wishing to ask him something makes your heart jolt in betrayal as you hadn’t bothered to gain a relationship with your brother-in-law prior to now. It made you appear selfish as this was your only goal.

“Why the long face?”

Yoongi’s voice brings you out of your thoughts.

“I feel selfish for being here.” you admit. ‘’I came…to ask you something.”

Yoongi blinks. “That’s okay.” he says, placing his glass down onto the coffee table. “What do you need?”

Your palms grow sweaty as Yoongi appears genuinely willing to help. The years you’ve sat and listened to your husband bash his younger brother for not having the same aspirations of him makes you wish you spoke up on his behalf more often. 

“Y/N…?”

“I wanted your sperm so I can have a baby.” you blurt out, embarrassment flowing throughout your entire body. He possibly thinks you’re in need of money and here you are asking for his sperm. “But now I know I sound like a fucking lunatic asking you-”

“Y/N,”

“-and I should just go now, right?” you laugh nervously with a shake of your head. “Yo-han doesn’t want kids and me pretending that this child is his isn’t fair to him or you-”

“Y/N.”

“-and I’m such a bitch for-”

“Y/N!”

You stop your rambling with Yoongi’s voice echoing off of his walls and high ceiling.

“I’m sorry for raising my voice. You weren’t listening to me.” Yoongi apologizes.

“You’re not the asshole they make you out to be.” you blurt out. Maybe this was the alcohol talking now, allowing you not to hold in anything any longer. “I’m sorry-”

“None taken.” Yoongi snickers. He knows how he is spoken about in his family and it doesn’t bother him as it once did, even if it does still sting a bit. 

“Please forget I said anything, Yoongi.”

“Why?”

You freeze at Yoongi’s question. Slowly, your eyes lift to his, to find that he’s already looking your way.

“You want a baby, right?” Yoongi asks. “You’ve come to me for help.”

“I do…” you trail off. “But coming to you was selfish-”

“I’ll do it.”

You stare at Yoongi in disbelief. Maybe he was just drunk and agreeing to it because it sounds like the right thing to do at the moment.

“Do you know what you’re saying?” you queried. 

“Do you know what you’re asking of me?” he shots back. “I agreed.”

“I…I wasn’t expecting to get this far, Yoongi.” you murmur. You lean up a bit, eyes cloudy. 

Yoongi chuckles at your reaction. It’s sad that he was going to make his own proposition to this.

“How did you expect to go about this exactly?”

“Well,” you lift yourself up to round the coffee table to sit beside Yoongi on his loveseat. “we can go to a clinic, right? You can…ejaculate-”

“Cum.”

Your body warms once more, but you nod your head with a little laugh. “Yes. Cum.” you say. “In a cup and I suppose the doctor can-”

“I don’t want to do that.”

Yoongi thinks for a moment that it isn’t fair to you with what he’s about to say next. It isn’t your fault that you were married into this family of his, nor should he take the frustration of his brother out on you. But he wouldn’t force anything onto you, and once he sobered up more, he would do as you asked and go to a clinic.

But as for now, Yoongi was being selfish.

“I want to do it naturally.”

The silence that comes afterwards is telling. You could hear a pin drop in the living area. Your eyes slowly wide towards Yoongi as he watches you as relaxed as ever.

“You want to fuck me?’

Maybe your response is crude, but his proposal was, as well. You were married to his brother and this would obviously be inappropriate.

However, so were you coming here behind your husband's back. It was a lose-lose situation either way.

“I know it’s wrong to want.” Yoongi admits, leaning into the leather couch. “But…”

Yoongi doesn’t finish his statement but you’re positive you understand what he’s attempting to say. You admitted to the things said about him and now it’s a form of revenge. You couldn’t be upset about it, truly.

“You…you won’t tell anyone?” you whisper, so low that it barely catches Yoongi’s ears. “It’ll be a secret you and I die on, right?”

Yoongi himself is astonished that you’re even considering it. He leans forward a bit with a lick of his lips.

“I won’t tell a soul.” Yoongi murmurs. “I’m not forcing you into doing this, Y/N. I’m a little drunk, I’m not going to lie.” he advises. Looking into your eyes, he doesn’t want to be that person. You’re already taken advantage of  enough by your husband. “You can come back in a few hours when I sober up and we can set up a meeting-”

“I want to.” you place a hand onto Yoongi’s cheek to silence him. “I want you to fuck a baby into me.”

Yoongi is but a man, and the words alone cause him to grow hard. He doesn’t act first, you do. You place your lips onto his, deepening the kiss needily. Maybe it was because you wanted to feel a man's hands on you, as selfish as it was. You missed your husband and only sleeping with him once a month before he eventually goes on another work trip causes you to be lonely.

Yoongi himself cannot remember when he’s been with a woman. He has random hookups that always signed with an NDA before anything happens, but that’s during tour, not as he’s recording an album. The liquor flowing through him adds the courage to wrap both arms around you and bring you into his lap. 

Yoongi’s hands are large as they rub along your body, causing moans to bubble up your throat but fall silent at your lips. This was wrong in so many ways. You are his sister-in-law, and beyond popular belief, he held a lot of respect for you. Only a strong woman could deal with Min Yo-han and his parents. However, the dirty words that you spoke to him were so tempting. He believes every man - even if they want a child or not - has a certain kink to them that is excited to impregnate a woman.

Yoongi isn’t alone with the same thoughts. Yo-han and Yoongi favored each other so much, but were so different. Yo-han is often straight to the point, sometimes not even kissing you. Yoongi is different, he takes this slow. He allows his hands to roam your body with such greed, as if it belongs to him - and for tonight, it does. He kisses your lips needily, but he savors the taste of them. He allows his lips to fall onto your chin to leave wet little pecks that lower to your neck.

“There’s no going back, Y/N.”

Yoongi’s voice is so deep against your neck. He’s fighting against his morals now, wanting nothing more than to fuck you like you want him to. Yet, he understands that this is wrong to take advantage of you in a vulnerable position. You didn’t come here for this.

“I know.” you moan back, your hips buckling. “Do you want to stop?”

Yoongi swallows. His hands settle onto your waist. “We…should…” he murmurs. As painful as it was for him to say. His hands grip onto your waist, his body going against what his mouth is speaking. “...we should stop this but…” he groans, his lips kissing against your neck. 

“No one has to know.” you respond, your own hands tugging at Yoongi’s dark tresses a bit. 

Yoongi will know, and so will you. When you fall pregnant and grow round with his child, he would know that it was him who did it for you. When you hold the child and raise it, it would be dark eyes that belonged to Yoongi, not Yo-han.

Was that something both of you could fathom?

“If this is truly what you want.” Yoongi mumbles. “We don’t have to do it here.”

Yoongi leans his head back to study your expression.

“We can go to my room.” Yoongi continued, unsure if that was too much. Yet, all of this was too much to begin with. 

“Okay.” you nod your head.

“How do you want to do this?”

Yoongi’s room is large, even bigger than your room at your home. It’s simple and screams Yoongi with a dark aesthetic. The bed is large for one man and is neatly made, as if he doesn’t sleep in here often. Maybe he didn’t as even if Yoongi and Yo-han were different, they were both Min’s and they worked their asses off.

“What do you mean?” you ask, sitting on his bed. 

“We can just…have sex for the sake of me cumming in you.” Yoongi does the same as you. “Or we can do more…”

Your thighs clench together a bit, body warming. 

“What do you want to do?” you ask him with a tilt of your head. 

“I want to eat you out.” Yoongi responds bluntly that it causes you to laugh at how straightforward he was. “But I understand if that’s too much to ask.”

You remove your shirt and throw it aside and go to do the same for your pants. Yoongi watches with low eyes as you begin to undress.

“Yo-han is too straight-forward.” you say to Yoongi, inching your way towards him. You place a hand onto his shoulders, placing your lips on his in a short, but needy kiss. “He doesn’t tend to do…a lot.”

Keyword for he tends to just worry about his own needs; Yoongi understands. He acts in a way he interprets you want him to. He pushes you onto his bed, the silk sheets cool at the touch, but otherwise comfortable. He wraps your smooth legs around his waist, his bulge pressed firmly against you.

You groan at how hard Yoongi was, arms wrapped around his neck.

Yoongi is a man starved, his hands going to remove your bra and throw it aside. 

“I’d fuck you every night if you were my wife.” Yoongi gruffs, his tongue trailing down to your chest. Your nipples are hard for him and he wastes no time in suckling on the first one he finds. 

There’s adrenaline flowing through the both of you at this forbidden act. The way you moan so loudly for Yoongi to continue to suckle on breasts that didn’t belong to him. The way he does so effortlessly, appearing as starved for this as you were. 

Yoongi can suckle onto your breast all night until they’re swollen, but there’s another place he wants to put his lips on.

The feeling of Yoongi’s wet lips against your skin causes you to groan. It’s all entirely too surreal to fully grasp, especially on how willing Yoongi is to do this with you. How sudden it happened, without much thought. You could blame this on a drunken night, but that would only be a lie. You both were coherent enough to know what you were doing - and how much the both of you truly wanted to do this.

“W-What?”

Yoongi blinks his eyes a few times as your voice reaches his ears.

Your head lifted a bit from his bed when you noticed Yoongi had stopped between your legs and hadn’t done anything.

“Sorry,” Yoongi murmurs, placing his lips onto your inner thighs and gently pressing a kiss. “You’re very….pretty.”

Yoongi’s cheeks dusted a soft pink color at his own words and before you can react and possibly make this entire situation more awkward, his tongue licks between your folds. Your back arches a bit at the warmth of his tongue, but you don’t have time to process it.

Yoongi suckles onto your clit with such determination, large hands grasping both of your thighs so you aren’t able to move from him. 

Yoongi misses hearing a woman move for him. He was prone to lock himself away when he was busy working for months at a time. He was dedicated to his craft and while he was in the midst of recording an album, he didn’t need to be distracted. You, however, were the perfect distraction. 

Yoongi focuses solely on the way your thighs quiver as his tongue toys with your clit. His eyes flicker upward a bit, catching a glimpse of the way your mouth falls open to let out such melodic moans.

“I want you to cum on my tongue before I fuck mine in you.”

Your body shudders at such dirty words coming from your brother-in-law. Yoongi wasn’t a man of many words, especially not the times you’ve met him. Yet, here he was now. So confident and cool, a side so different from the mysterious demeanor he always held.

Dare you say you liked this Yoongi.

“Your tongue feels so good.” you gasp out, your stomach churning. Were you making it obvious that you weren’t used to this?

Yoongi already knows, of course. Even if you didn’t tell him, he notices just by the way you continue to act. Your hands are unsure where to go - one moment they’re clenching the bedsheets to yanking at his scalp; acts he doesn’t mind.

Yoongi leans back a bit, licking his lips of your juices. “Yeah?” he says smug, thumb pressing against your swollen clit. He rubs it gently just to tease you, tilting his head. “You wanna sit on it?”

The seriousness of Yoongi's tone stops you from giggling at what sounds like it could be a joke. You blink your eyes open.

“On your…” you’re confused on what exactly he wants you to sit on. 

“My face.” Yoongi deadpans. His dark eyes reach yours and he offers a low smirk. “Mind as well make the most of it.”

“Oh…okay.”

You don’t want to sound too eager, but it’s not a position you’ve ever been in. After all, Yoongi was right. The both of you mind as well make the most of this fucked up situation.

“Good.” Yoongi hums, lying beside you. “Face me.”

You’re far too conscious to actually sit on Yoongi’s face as he wants you to as the position itself is awkward. Your thighs quiver slightly and before you can ask if this was right, Yoongi’s hands - large and veiny - grasp onto your hips to press you down against his tongue. His eyes watch for your reaction, especially when you gasp out at his actions.

Yoongi’s willingness to eat you out is beyond the alcohol now - he actually wants to do this. He licks onto your clit as if he’s starved, his large hands gripping your hips to roaming down to your thighs. 

It’s deeper than that, of course. It’s deeper than Yoongi just wanting to pleasure you. He does, of course. But down within his core that he doesn’t want to admit, even to himself, Yoongi knows it’s about his brother. Even if Yo-han was the preferred son with a high paying job that his parents preferred, it was him you chose to go to. Min Yoongi, the younger Min son who decided that his love for music outweighed what he felt for his own family that dubbed him an outcast. 

It was Yoongi who was pleasuring you now, his tongue flat against your clit, his head bobbing from side to side as his large hands grip at your naked skin. 

It was Yoongi who you were moaning so lovingly for, your delicate hands gripping his hair in your grasp, fluttering eyes watching him. 

It was him - Yoongi. The one who his family deemed unworthy and yet, here you are. You sought him out to impregnate you - something his brother couldn’t (or refused) to do. And he was going to enjoy every fucked up minute of it. In the end when it was time for him to meet his maker, he would pay for this sin he willingly partaken in.

Yoongi is painfully hard, his cock tight in his sweatpants. It twitches to be released - but he had all night with you. His brother wasn’t home and there wasn’t a rush, right?

“Yoon…Yoongi…” you moan his name so sweet that Yoongi groans against your clit, his hands roaming towards your ass. When he grips it do you moan his name once more, your eyes clenching shut.

Your hips begin to buckle a bit against his tongue, and Yoongi further encourages you by slapping your ass a bit teasingly. Your head hangs back a bit, soft “fuck” and “shit” coming from your gasping lips. You don’t realize just how loud you were becoming after each buckle of your hips, no longer feeling as self-conscious as you were originally - nor did Yoongi mind, either.

“Feels so good…” you hum, your hanging head now falling forward to look down at the man who’s causing you such great pleasure. Your eyes lock with his dark ones and you bite your lip a bit. “...we shouldn't be doing this.”

It was a statement. Neither of you stop and Yoongi’s hands only glide upwards to grasp your breast in his hands, squeezing them with such need. Your free hand places itself on top of his larger one, your walls clenching around nothing in general and you’re positive that you were going to cum soon.

You never cum from oral before and the thought just causes you  to squeal.

You were hot, Yoongi thinks. Utterly gorgeous that it upsets him that this was going to be the only time he was going to have you on his tongue. His tongue laps between your folds with such haste and need, determined to make you cum so he can taste what his brother doesn’t deserve. To think that his brother once flaunted you around with his arm around you just for you to be here with him.

You’re cumming entirely too fast for your liking, your toes curling. You stopped grinding against his tongue and instead allowed Yoongi to regain control, his free hand gripping your outer thigh and slightly lifting himself forward. He suckles roughly onto your sensitive bud until your thighs are shaking with overstimulation. Your breathing is hitched, your stomach clenching.

Yoongi is satisfied when you cum, spewing a line of curse words that a woman like you surely would never use. His entire lips and chin is coated with your juices when he finally allows a moment to rest, your body falling onto his bed.

Licking his lips, Yoongi glances your way.

“My brother must not make you cum enough.” he murmurs, dark eyes watching with satisfaction.

You don’t respond to Yoongi. You understand the bitterness in his tone. You don’t blame Yoongi for speaking of his brother the way he does. Your husband, in shorter words, can be an asshole. Especially to those he feels as though he is better than.

Or jealous of.

“I love him.” you say. It’s been a full five minutes before you respond to him. You managed to stop your thighs from quivering enough for your body to sit up. “I don’t doubt it.” Yoongi says. He watches you with hooded eyes as you crawl towards him until you’re hovering above him. 

“He’s jealous of you.”

You’re unsure why you’re telling Yoongi this. It’s going to do nothing but feed his ego more in knowing this along with fucking his wife. 

“He…would say he never knew you would be this successful.” you tell him, leaning down to press a deep kiss against his lips. You can taste yourself, and the act turned you on even further. 

Instantly, Yoongi wraps his arms around you. His hands rub along your smooth skin.

“I always knew you’d be successful.”

Your words cause Yoongi’s breath to hitch when you lean yourself away from him. Your lips kiss along his own jaw. 

“The way you speak makes me feel like you wanted this longer than you make out.”

Your tongue slowly trails along his chin before dipping down to his neck. 

“And if I did?”

Your tongue proceeds to trace the outline of his ear. Goosebumps erupt on his skin.

“I’ll fuck you right now, Y/N.” Yoongi grumbles, his fingernails digging into your hips and he thrusts his clothed cock towards your naked clit.

“I want to suck your cock first.”

You move faster than Yoongi can process. You’re already sliding down his body and hooking your hands beneath his pants to tug them down. 

You should be expecting Yoongi to be aroused, but not this erect. His cock looks like it hurts with how fast it springs out of his underwear. The tip is leaking pre-cum and it twitches when you wrap a hand around the base.

Yoongi hisses when your warm tongue wraps around his tip, suckling it like a lolipop. His eyes instantly roll, not remembering the last time he felt a woman’s mouth. He always was told that he worked too hard and he couldn’t help it - especially since he was a Min. You came  to Yoongi during a vulnerable time of need and it was no wonder he didn’t deny you.

“Shit, Y/N…”

You take his cock deeper into your mouth, bobbing your head sloppily as you suckle on his cock. The sounds of your gurgling mixed with Yoongi’s moans and curse words has you dripping down your thighs. You couldn’t recall the last time you were this wet for your own husband.  

Your eyes flicker upwards to watch Yoongi’s face. So handsome and reminiscent of Yo-han. His dark hair falls into his eyes, pink lips falling open to let out lustful moans. 

Your sucking and slurping erupted throughout the room, sounding just as sloppy as it looks. 

You don’t usually do this yourself - not because you don’t like it. You enjoy the lewd act immensely. You just refused to do it if your husband wouldn’t do the same. Yoongi so willing to go down on you caused you to want to do the same for him, the tip of his cock deep in your throat now. Your eyes are glossy with tears and determination, wanting to please the man just as he was determined to pleasure you.

“I’m not…” Yoongi hisses, a veiny hand going to grasp your hair to stop you. “...not cumming in your mouth, baby.”

Yoongi forces his cock - as much as he didn’t want to - out from your greedy lips. Saliva draws down the corner of your mouth, connecting it to his tip. Yoongi pants and shakes his head.

The pet name Yoongi calls you wants you to bring the cock right back into your mouth. It sounds so good coming from Yoongi, so natural. As if it’s a pet name he called you often.

“I’m gonna cum in you.”

“Please.” you beg, licking your lips. “Want you to fill me.”

Yoongi groans, his cock twitching. His hand is still tangled in your hair and he grips it a bit tighter. He takes a deep breath.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” Yoongi questions. “I’ll follow your lead.”

Yoongi and his need to assure that you were comfortable was heartwarming. It nearly causes you to smile.

“Are you the vanilla type?” you joke.

“I’m whatever you’d want me to be.” Yoongi chuckles. His mind flashes with different ways he could have you - both passionately and disrespectfully.

Your hands, that lay on his thigh, slide forward. Past his torso to grip his shoulders.

“Follow my lead.” you say, getting to your feet just to sit onto his lap. Your clit is directly against his cock and you want nothing more than to grind against him, but this wasn’t the moment. You needed to feel him inside of you.

Yoongi does as you say, going to push off his pants so he can maneuver better. His hands lay upon your hips as you sit upon him, bringing his cock inside of you slowly. Yoongi lets out a low and deep groan, your pussy gripping around him so tightly.

Yoongi didn’t have a wife and that meant the sex he did have was just casual sex with women who signed NDA’s and wore condoms.

Now, however, it was different. This might be a one time thing, but to get to feel your pussy, so wet and warm wrapped around his cock was amazing. How could his brother not want to be inside of you at any given moment? How could he restrain himself from feeling you raw? Surely there had to be other forms of birth control besides a condom.

You’re needy to feel him deep inside of you, your arms wrapping around his neck as you begin to pounce. Your pussy clenches with each thrust, rising and falling sloppily. 

“Your pussy’s so wet.” Yoongi quips, voice deeper. His breathing is deep and his arms only tighten around your frame. His palms roam your naked skin greedily. 

You lean forward to place your lips against his, your tongue forcing your way through his lips. Your bare chest presses against his clothed one.

“Your cock feels so good.” you say between hushed kisses. You begin to shift yourself, your feet planted on the bed either side of him. 

This was bad.

You shouldn’t be here or agreed to this. 

You shouldn’t have allowed Yoongi to eat you out and you shouldn’t have sucked his cock.

It was far too late now, of course. There was no going back; especially with his cock plunging so deep inside of you.

Yoongi’s eyes roll with pleasure with each rise and fall of your hips. Skin slapping erupts throughout the room, followed by your squeals and his grunts. 

“My brother doesn’t deserve this.”

It’s difficult for Yoongi not to mention your husband, and maybe the sick side of you that knew this was wrong acknowledged that deep down, you enjoyed Yoongi’s praises. It was something you didn’t experience at home.

“You do?” you ask with a curt, smug snort and soon a soft moan. 

Yoongi’s cock was stretching you out in a way you needed, even if it had been just a few short weeks. Sex with Yoongi, though a one time thing, was something you didn’t know you needed until now. You rise and fall against his cock, pussy squeezing with such pleasure and desire that Yoongi’s nails dig into the skin of your hips. It was evident that neither of you wanted to stop.

“I do.” Yoongi hisses, this time meeting you halfway. The added thrusts coming from the man has his cock digging even deeper, hitting a spot that you weren’t sure was possible until now. “Isn’t this what you’re here for?”

You don’t respond to him, and it causes Yoongi to become even more smugged. You never took  Yoongi as the dominant type - yet again, you never thought about sex with Yoongi until the possibility presented itself to you.

Yoongi hooks both arms underneath your thighs and flips you and him. You’re on your back now and him hovering right above you. You gasp at the sudden change of position. However, having Min Yoongi hovering above you was well worth it. He enters you without a second thought, the feeling intensifying when he begins to thrust in you.

“Fuck,” Yoongi growls, his head hanging as his eyes watch the way the both of you connect to one another. His cock springs in and out of you needily, your cunt so wet and gushing with juices. “your pussy is so wet and ready to be bred.”

Yoongi feels the way you clench around him at his words - such filthy words that turn the both of you on. You didn’t know just how much you enjoyed the dirty talk and it causes you to think vaguely of how your sex life with your husband always appeared so rushed. He was tired as he worked himself hard and at the end of it all, sex was more about him than you.

“You want that, huh?” 

Yoongi wouldn’t say that he’s waited for this moment. He wasn’t aware a moment like this would ever present itself to him. However, he finds that he enjoys the closeness that you and him share. How open you and he are, even after not fully accustomed to the other prior to now. 

Yoongi finds that he enjoys littering your naked skin with kisses and soft bites that don’t linger. When his hands wander around your skin, goosebump litter his own at how soft and warm it is. 

“I do.” you quip when Yoongi pounds deeper into you, so deliciously that it causes your eyes to roll a bit. “Want you to cum in me.”

Yoongi groans with a shake of his head. Not because he doesn’t want to cum in you, he does. He has a deep desire to fuck his seed into you so deep until there’s nothing left, but that meant that it would all be over. His high (and yours) would die down and you would go home. 

There wouldn’t be a next time as you weren’t his wife. And even if he talked down to his brother, at the end of the day, his brother was who you belonged to.

Something gold touches your face and causes you to flutter your eyes open. Yoongi hovers so close above you that his chain, a diamond chair that was once tucked underneath his shirt, slides across your warm face.

“K-Kiss me.” you say - more like demand - to Yoongi. Your shaky hands place themselves onto his cheeks so he’s looking right at you.

Yoongi connects his lips onto yours, his hips snapping forward. He groans against your soft lips, your velvet walls drawing him deeper and deeper into you.

“You’re so beautiful.” Yoongi grunts against your lips. “You take my cock so well.”

You press your lips deeper against his, arms wrapping around his neck. Your body intensifies, quivering right beneath the man. Your back arches a bit and you hold onto Yoongi a bit tighter.

“You’re…fuuuck,” your words drag out, stomach churning. “you’re beautiful, too.”

Yoongi, against his body’s best judgment, pushes you back against his bed. He leans back to admire your naked body, breast bouncing erratically as he fucks you. He licks his lips, dark eyes boring right into you. His right hand places onto your stomach, cock grinding. 

“Yeah?” Yoongi tilts his head a bit. “Our baby would be beautiful, too, then.”

“You can’t say things like that.”

Your pussy clenches harder, however, despite your words. 

“Your pussy says differently, baby.” Yoongi chuckles. “You like that, wouldn’t you? Fucking a baby into this sweet pussy.”

The hand that presses against your stomach to keep you in place trails down to your clit. His thumb places firmly against your wet clit, swirling the sensitive bud that has your back arching against. When you’re about to shut your legs - because fuck was the pleasure overwhelming - Yoongi’s free hand slaps against your thigh to keep you from doing so.

“You’re going to be so beautiful round with my baby.” Yoongi’s thumb twirls your clit roughly. The way you’re taking him now he knows you’re going to cum soon. “You think the baby would look like me?”

Yoongi grunts once more, thrust becoming sloppy. He was going to cum himself at just the thought of witnessing you swollen with his seed. Just the thought of you holding a baby with the same eyes as him was enough for him to want to breed you right here and now. 

“It doesn’t matter who you’re married to, baby,” Yoongi says, marveling at the sight of your juices leaking onto his sheets as you were cumming. The filthy and demanding words mixed with the overstimulation he forces upon you was too much. “I’ll always be the one that got you pregnant.”

Your hand reaches out for Yoongi’s shirt for support. His words were too much and would be added to the list of fucked up things you were doing now - that you enjoy. 

“I want your baby, Yoongi.” you cry, squirming beneath him. “Want your cum in me.”

“Fuck, baby.” Yoongi shakes his head, his entire body shuddering as he cums not even a minute later. Milky ropes of warm cum coat your walls fully.

Hanging his head back, Yoongi pants. He doesn’t move and neither do you. There’s sweat lining his forehead and he’s trying to calm himself down before he does anything more.

Your chest rises and falls when you feel Yoongi lay beside you. You feel his cum ooze out of you - but still feel so full of him. You shut your legs, the selfish part of you not wanting to waste not a drop of it.

“Are you okay?”

Yoongi’s hand is soft, even if it was a bit callosed, against your cheek. He gently turns your head to look at him. 

“I’m sorry if I was a bit…much.” Yoongi’s cheeks reddened and he chuckled a bit.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” you murmur to him, moving a bit closer without much thought. “Thank you…?” you’re unsure what to say and thanking him sounds a bit foolish, however when Yoongi laughs, so do you. 

“You don’t need to thank me, Y/N.”

You bite your lip and once more, without much thought, you kiss him. You inhale into the kiss, your hand holding onto his cheek before you disconnect your lips from his.

Yoongi licks his lips as if to savor your taste. He hums. “You can stay the night…if you want.” Yoongi adds the last part. “Or you can go home…but I’m not forcing you to.”

You allow yourself to smile at Yoongi. 

“I can show you my studio. You can see why the world doesn’t see me for months at a time.” Yoongi jokes. Did he sound desperate for you to stay with him? Was he that lonely and pathetic?

“Okay.” you say a bit too quickly. You hoped you didn’t sound desperate yourself.

“Okay.” Yoongi repeats, his thumb trailing the outline of your lips.

Yoongi’s fingers are going to bruise your skin with how tight he holds them. His hips are snapping once more, drilling into you at an alarming speed. From the outside looking in, the sight could be seen as alarming with how rough Yoongi is. Your skin is flushed with hand marks by the man, yet neither of you could be bothered to care right now.

Your back arches and your arms struggle to keep yourself in the position as yoongi pounds into you. You’re squealing with each powerful thrust his hips send your way. 

You are unsure how many times you allowed Yoongi to fuck you - you lost count since the following night. You didn’t need to go home because there wouldn’t be anyone waiting for you anyways. Yoongi had done what he promised and showed you his studio. It’s dimly lit with several computer screens. He showed you how he mixed and produced different sounds together and played snippets of music that he had yet to release.

How you and Yoongi became entangled after that - and for the first time - is beyond you. In a short amount of time, the chemistry was there. Obviously.

Now, the following morning, you and Yoongi were yet again doing the forbidden act that should’ve never happened in the first place. Now, you and he were further disrespecting your marriage, but you cannot bring yourself to care now.

“Your cock is so deep in me.” you squeal, your face burying into the soft bed sheets.

 Your fingers dig into them as Yoongi forces your legs apart further. Both of his hands allow you grace and slams against his bed. That meant that now Yoongi could go even deeper.

“I’ve fucked you all night, baby, and you keep coming for more.”

Your ass is amazing, Yoongi thinks, the way it bounces off of his abdomen. He cannot count himself how many times he held it in his hands as he fucked you, finding that it fits perfectly in his hands just like the rest of your body did.

“I can’t help it…feels so good.” 

In the short amount of time you stopped the bashful act and fully allowed Yoongi’s dirty words to get to you. You entertained him fully, finding that it made the entire situation better.

“You’re such a whore, Y/N, allowing me to fuck a baby in you over and over again.”

As many times as Yoongi’s fucked you, he hasn’t kept his lips off of you for long. He had eaten you out right in his studio, his fingers plunging so deep in you that you made a mess all over his chair - and he’d have it no other way.

“It’s going to be sad when you go back to your husband, right? You’re gonna fuck my brother but think of me the entire time.”

Your hair is being yanked this time and you are forced against Yoongi’s chest. His cock plunges deeper in you so heavenly that you’re seeing stars. While one hand is entangled into your hair, the other one roughly tugs at your breast.

“And when he doesn’t fuck you good enough, baby, just come back to me.” Yoongi’s voice is so deep and full of lust that it shivers down your spine and juices erupt down your thighs and leak into his sheets.

You don’t intend to stay another day. Yoongi had allowed you to borrow clothing and you had showered in his master bathroom before meeting him for breakfast. The aroma greeted you upon entering and Yoongi spares you a single glance.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” you admit, seating yourself on the island chair and watching as he plates your food. “Smells nice…” you trail off.

You and Yoongi eat mainly in silence when you’re unsure if it’s a comfortable one or not. Your mind races with questions that you’re unsure how to ask.

“There’s no doubt that you’ll have a positive pregnancy test.”

Yoongi breaks the silence first once he finishes his food, drinking a dark liquid that you’re sure isn’t juice like you had. 

You snicker a bit, body flushing. “Yeah. No doubt.”

Yoongi is quiet for another moment, his eyes roaming your facial expression.

“Do you regret it?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, glancing away for a moment.

“It’s…I feel terrible.”

Yoongi inhales, his leg shaking a bit at your words.

“I…I feel terrible because I enjoyed it too much and…” you meet his eyes now. It was an eventful two days away from the reality that was your life. Yoongi was more than what his family made him out to be - even outside the sex. He was an amazing person to speak with. When you spoke, it’s as if he cared about what you had to say; no matter the topic. He gives you undivided attention that you never got from your husband. “...now I have to just forget it didn’t happen.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath. His heart jolted a bit at your confession.

“You know I’m never too far.” Yoongi murmurs. He feels foolish for stating it. It would be weird that you and he are suddenly so close that it would obviously draw attention.

“I know.” your voice is meek and small. 

“I want to give you something.”

Yoongi doesn’t meet your eye when he lifts himself from the island table beside you and takes your plates and his. He washes them to further leave you in agonizing suspense.

Once Yoongi is done, he dries his hands and goes through his pockets. He’s wearing baggy sweatpants with deep pockets. He pulls out a rectangular pad and opens it, ripping a piece of paper out of it.

“Here.” Yoongi holds the paper out for you to take. You notice instantly that it’s a…check.

Your eyes scan the check, slowly widening at just how much money is on it.

“What is this?” you say hastily, squinting your eyes at Yoongi.

“A check.” Yoongi responds matter-of-factly. “For…the baby.” he nods his head a bit.

You drop the check onto the table and swallow. “I’m…not even sure if you got me pregnant.” you say, but then again it was no doubt Yoongi had. The amount of times he milked your walls in 2 days, there was no doubt that a month from now you would surely receive positive news. “I can’t accept that, Yoongi.” you shake your head.

“Why not?”

You scoff. “Why not? Why would I?” you quip. “I…I…the agreement wasn’t this.” you continue as you’re pointing at the check. “I…we didn’t really think any of this through.”

“Of course we didn’t,” Yoongi snickers but agrees nonetheless. “We acted out of lust and attraction. However…I want to help you.”

You’re silent as Yoongi continues on.

“I…it’s going to be hard, Y/N. Watching you raise a kid that’s mine but…I understand. You’re married to my brother and that’s not going to change. You came to me for help and I intend on doing just that. Deposit the check into a savings account. Over time it’ll accumulate interest and more money for the baby…”

Yoongi’s tone is serious. Your eyes glance down at the check.

“Yoongi…” you trail off. 

Yoongi stands a bit straighter. 

“Think about the baby, Y/N.” Yoongi murmurs. “You trusted me enough to come to me. Trust me enough to know that I’ll always help you if you need it.” he states. “I’ll be the best uncle there can be.”

Yoongi’s tone doesn’t match his words, and you aren’t sure if your own feelings would match the reality that you’re about to put yourself through.

@whipwhoops @seokjinkismet @bloodline1632 @darkuni63 @babycandy111 @investedreader