#it also looks like his right hand got ripped off entirely? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

screampied · 2 months ago

Text

#TRYNA FUCK ME I'M LIKE OKAY! g. suguru

☆ sum. suguru geto wasn’t used to losing a race, especially to a fucking rookie—but you’ve got him confused, intrigued, and… hard? long story short, ever since he hit it he’s never been the same.

wc. 6.8k

warnings. fem! reader, street racer! geto, pwp, unprotected, 2 fast 2 furious references, bratty reader, rivals to lovers ( ? ), geto has a dīck piercing, big size kink, riding, he fucks you on the hood of your car, cunnīlingus, sore loser geto gets humbled lel, overstim, squīrting, dirty talk, praise, petnames.

an. chase atlantic inspired me again </3 same au as this one.

second fucking place. he got second place and he lost to you, a newbie—the newest racer with the prettiest trendy wheels, flashy rims, and a hot pink 2001 honda s2000. stupid, stupid, the reality of losing left a sour taste in geto’s mouth. he can’t remember the last time he’s lost, ever. .

the moment he saw your car bolt in front of him at those last few milliseconds of the race with fiery pink smoke coughing from your steel pipes dusting near his front window, he just knew he lost to you. geto scoffs. “tch,” he’d mumble, slamming his car door shut, and releasing the straps of his custom-made helmet. you leaned against your slick hood, innocently fanning yourself with a pamphlet of the track’s course layout that was given to every racer before glancing at geto. he was quite tall and he looked down at you with a look of intrigue and bitter annoyance. “cheater.”

“excuse me?” you raise a brow. you knew damn well who he was, suguru geto—one of the if not the best street racer in tokyo. notorious for his wins and extremly cocky ego - except this time, your win against him bruised that little detail a bit. a small grin spreads across your glossed lips before your eyes rove up and down his dark leather ripped clothes. “you said somethin’?”

“you heard me, sweetheart,” he utters, bringing a gloved hand up to his face. doing so, geto tucks his sticky black tresses back inside his helmet. he’s so close, that he practically has you cornered against the hot hood of your car and his eyes stare at the medal that’s pinned near the left side of your chest. that gold medal that was supposed to be his. “besides,” and you nearly gasped once you felt your rear tap against the front of your vehicle. “your ‘riding’ could use a ‘lil work, rookie.”

you saw the look in his eyes. he’s challenging you, geto sees you as a potential threat and he wasn’t fond of losing.. ever.

it just wasn’t in his vocabulary.

you don’t know why but beating one of tokyo’s top street racers made cocky pride swell right up in your chest. the same kind of cocky pride that he was used to, and damn were you a force to be reckoned with. he just had to learn that the hard way.

“do i?” you reply, reaching an arm inside of your car to twist the keys out of the ignition. with a roaring sputtering growl, your engine gradually turns off and the sounds of whirring wind fill the air.

geto’s got his hands buried in his pockets as his tall lean body stands still. he’s checking you out.

his head slightly tilts to the side with his helmet cracked open and you can feel his eyes trailing up your entire physique.

he’s studying you - trying to figure out just who this pretty girl that just dusted him in a race.

you’d be lying through your teeth if you didn’t idolize him just a little bit. he was well known not just in tokyo but worldwide. the fangirls loved him, and the racers despised him with envy.

beating the suguru geto was a rare fever dream of itself.

“or are you just upset you’re not in the spotlight for once?” brat.. though your comment made him scoff with a sly smile curling against his thin lips.

“mm. for a new racer you sure have a smart mouth,” and his eyes quickly dash toward your car.

hot pink, it even looked freshly new and painted. and just to put the icing on the cake, it also has a pretty character design painted near the sides with the addition of a cheetah print wheel.

he lost to . . that?

geto’s quietly admiring your ride though—it looked like it was straight out of a movie. once he looks down at you again, he speaks in a gruff intimidated tone, finishing his sentence. “it’s only your first win, don’t be cocky.”

“i’ll be cocky if i want,” you murmur, and there’s a loud competitive tension between you both.

people started to leave the car meeting spot until it was just the two of you. your car’s parked near one of the garages where geto’s car was coincidentally parked also. you’re still leaning against the pink hood of your car before walking up to him. you close the awkward distance between you both, being just a few inches apart.

you’re bold, and he liked your spunk although he’d never flat-out admit it.

just . . . who were you?

geto didn’t like losing—that’s already been established. but now, he’s starting to realize he probably has to deal with you in future races, and oh- he knew you were gonna be a problem.

and he was right, because perhaps he’d finally met his match.

“besides, even if i did cheat,” you retaliate, your tone sounding more and more coy and foxy. playfully, your arms wrap around his shoulders and you tap against his sheer black helmet that had ‘s. geto’ autographed in bold purple near the other shell. vexed, mousy eyes glare at you through the protective gear and you lean up all the way close. “what are you gonna do about it, suguru?”

famous last words,

because one moment you’re being nothing but a mere brat and the next, you found yourself bent over the hood of your pretty blush-colored honda.

well, fuck.

suguru geto didn’t take disrespect lightly . . although, he liked the brat in you. a nice change of pace, even though it pissed him off a bit - a lot.

“s- shit,” you gasp, feeling your thighs squeeze together. geto’s domineering aura sends you chills, the kind of chills where it runs through your entire soul.

he’s so close that you could almost taste his loud cologne on your tongue. it’s a manly scent, you’d probably guess one of the main ingredients was oak moss. as you’re pondering deep in thought, still trying to get over his loud smell—a hand gingerly starts to brush down your skimpy lace-up chaps.

his touch felt good. . and sure, maybe you’ve fantasized about this exact moment once or twice while watching his races broadcasted on live television. geto’s pressed up against you as you’re idly hunched over, biting your lip. with a huff, you’re so close to your tinted window that you were practically having a staring contest with your rosy windshield wipers. “aw. you planned to spank me over my car?”

“not exactly, pretty girl,” he tsks with a clicked tongue, and that’s when you feel it. something poking against your rear — oh, he was hard.

it was something hard and you don’t quite think it was his helmet..

that couldn’t have been anything else other than a raging boner, and it makes you smugly hum. geto groans once he feels your ass wriggling against his skin-tight leather jeans. “think you’re funny, yeah girl?”

“a bit,” you utter in a breathy tone, feeling his fingers zig-zag down the exposed straps of clothing that reveal a bit of skin. you didn’t mind his touch - in fact, you only wanted more.

the inside of the garage was widely spacious—big enough to fit your car and geto’s iconic skyline gtr. it’s a gorgeous midnight dark purple that glimmers in the dead of night, akin to a raven’s wings.

with the garage lot being empty, it was just the two of you, the witching hour steadily approaching. all that could be heard was the occasional squawks and chirps of squaking birds and loud cars honking near the far distance by the freeway. as he’s still got you pinned over, you bite your pointer finger with a cheeky hum. “hilarious even.”

but, you don’t find anything funny moments later when the street racer’s tongue is shoved right between your splayed, plush thighs.

not at all, in fact- the only ‘words’ that came from your mouth were babbling inaudible whimpers, and he made sure you’d eat your sentences… just like he’s eating out your first place cunt like the starved man he was.

with widened eyes and a stretched jaw hanging open, you stare back with a hand on your ass, giving your skin a soft squeeze. geto grunts, on his knees as you’re hauled right over your pretty decorated hood.

hell! you figured he’d ask to rematch but this..

it seemed like all he wanted to do was take out his loss on your pussy… with his second-place tongue.

and that’s just what he does too.

not that you were even complaining—suguru geto was a nasty man to no one’s surprise. he’s nasty on the road and he’s even nastier with his tongue recklessly driving up and down your slobbering twitching cunt.

you feel a crooked nose sloooowly drag its way like a trail against your entrance. geto starts near the bottom and then makes his way up, making sure to have his button nose dripping with your mess. letting off a sweet whimper, it doesn’t take long before he’s starting sucking against your swollen clit.

“hng,” a needy whine dashes from your throat, and you can already feel a shaking judder spasm between your legs. geto’s unapologetically sloppy with his mouth too. as he’s repeatedly flicking the pointed pink tip of his tongue in crazed different directions, a throaty hiccup leaves from your glued lips. “fuuck, do you usually mhm--do this to your opponents who hah, beat you?”

“only the ones with the smart fuckin’ mouths,” he replies with a quickness, taking a moment to spit right on your sticky cunt. it’s a loud ‘ptui’ and it’s a filthy slimy trail that dribbles past his lips, polishing near the creasing crevices of his mouth.

a rubber-gloved hand snakes toward the crack of your pried open thighs and he spanks your pussy, causing a cute shrieking squeal to leave out your strained cords. “also, a reminder again. you didn’t beat me. i let you win. big difference.”

“s- sure,” you sheepishly moan, feeling vapid air circle around you both.

the night was eerily and silently dead—you swallowed thickly, praying no one would see you bent over your flashy pink hood getting eaten out by one of the most famous street racers in the world. although, the thought of getting caught made you throb in a way you didn’t think it would.

he’s mean with his tongue.

geto was competitive in everything he did, including with how he ate it.

your strapped pants were pulled down along with your panties lazily sticking toward the side of your feeble quaking thighs.

within minutes his jaw would angrily ache, growing slack and locking from how it was reaching soreness - but he didn’t care.

if he didn’t win his race, the least he could do was win by eating you out…right?

geto’s designer mauve-colored helmet probably costed thousands and rests near the side of him. he took it off before he started to feast himself between your sprawled legs.

through hazed doe-like peripherals, you stare at it and admire the designs that paint across his visor.

everywhere, there’s writing and designs—and again, you spot his famous autograph that’s nearly written near the side. typical, of course, he’d autograph his helmet.

he’s suguru fuckin’ geto.

regardless though, you’re still nothin’ but a whining mess though, and as he continues to eat you out, you let off a sweet ‘ooh!’ as soon as he bites near your pearly clit.

it’s soft and tender, but it still makes you babble out a sobbing moan. his teeth gently nibbled against your pussy . . . leisurely slithering his tongue between your flooding flaps.

so good, each time you hear the wet smacks from his lips, you can hear geto huskily groaning out satisfying ‘mmmh’ ‘s.

it’s a feeling that makes your legs stagger within the firm hold of his hands. geto’s still wearing his gloves and each time the stretchy rubber rubs onto your skin, you moan. “fuck, fuckk,” you whine, and he’s groaning right against your sobbing cunt. his hair’s pinned back into a high messy ponytail - a few ravened strands running down the sides of his face. pretty long lashes of his were closed as he was slurping you clean.

so damn sweet . . . he wonders why he’s never seen you on the track until now. well- you were new. maybe he has seen you, but geto’s never been one to pay attention.

either way, you were a meal he didn’t wanna stop tasting, ever.

and despite the bitter taste of defeat continuously lingering on his flat tongue even still . . your cunt sprinkled a bit of flavor to it, an aftertaste of vying rivalry . .

“mmph,” he grunts, feeling you push him further into your cunt with one hand. with a twist, you turn your torso just a bit to look down at him, bringing his face further. geto’s slick wet tongue slides across your nub before he’s sloppily thrusting it in and out of your weeping flowery entrance.

you whimper once he reaches that spot, feeling a sudden heave of a breath snatch its way out from your puffed lungs. geto’s dark brows amusingly knit together and he’s already nose deep—the hooking bridge that smears against your pussy makes you nearly wail out a needy weep.

he’s smearing his face everywhere, and wet splotches of your juices started to coat his clear face.

but he doesn’t mind - geto’s always been one to get a ‘lil dirty during a match.

two slack lips munch against your clit wholly before his lengthy tongue reaches toward your winking hole. “pff,” he clicks his tongue, letting off another husky groan once he feels the tint in his pants arises.

fuck, you made him hard—even more, now that he was eating you out.

the louder you were, the more his dick twitched underneath the rough fabric of his jeans. it’s almost painful- the way his hardened bulge prods its way against the leathery fabric makes him suck his teeth. he needs you.

geto’s lips remain glued against your cunt before he uses a gloved thumb to peel your pudgy sweltering folds apart just a biiiit more.

his tongue creates a downward slope that trickles its way below your clitoral hood that’s frantically throbbing right in his mouth.

ba dum, ba dum, ba dum. . .

pulse pulse pulse after fucking pulse,

a smoky chuckle echoed from his lips as his shoulders slightly shake and fuck- it vibrates against your pussy. “god, she’s a ‘lil crybaby isn’t she,” he breathlessly mumbles as his thumb peels your soaked flaps all the way down. he’s intently staring inside, studying all the pretty nerves and your twitching nub before spitting right inside yet again.

airy cold breath fans over your nude slit and you whimper, feeling his tongue douse itself back inside. “were you drivin’ around this wet the entire time, princess?” and you moan, feeling the rubber of his palm smear a few circles around your clit. “drivin’ around, tryin’ to beat me with a pretty pussy this fuckin’ soaked?”

with a shivering whimper ghosting past your splintered lips, you snivel out a soft mewl.

“sugu—fuuuck, ‘m gonna cum,” and as your breath gets caught in your throat, you feel him grab a nice chunk of your ass.

at his very grip, he gives your rear a rude spank and the recoil makes him hum in amusement. so soft, the way it bounced just from his palm alone.

oh, and spanking you became his favorite thing to do, especially since you were so fucking noisy.

as a shrilling whine prepares to race out your strained esophagus, you nearly yank his head forward again, hearing him groan against your clit. “d- did you hear me? ‘m close, gonna cu—”

“yeah yeah girl, i heard you,” he swats your hand away, and the low grit that rumbles from underneath his tone makes you throb for the nth time.

geto brings a few digits up toward your cunt to rub against your runny folds, and he starts making out with your pussy - with tongue.

sloppy smacks slosh out from your crying folds and you gasp, feeling him impishly nip your clit with his teeth once more. “mmf,” and his eyes start to become low and hooded.

he’s pussy drunk, very much so.

geto eats you out until you’re abruptly coming undone on his tongue, letting off a sweet euphoric battle cry with your toes curling in your knee-high boots. fuck, and even as he’s savoring the syrupy taste that pours on his flat flushed tongue, he’s still eating you out.

with brief circular maneuvers of his tongue, he’s got you whimpering from the sensitivity. as a staticky twinge pulses through your pussy, your hand grabs at his hair hard, tugging near his roots, having to literally pry him apart.

your cunt was so sensitive, throbbing a plethora of pulses as your mouth fatally goes dry. “f- fuck,” you moan, and you can feel your legs stick together once they instinctively close shut.

“tsk. drama queen,” he soils his lips together that were now perfectly glossed from top to bottom with your juices.

oh, his chiseled chin was just shimmering with such sparkling sap that it even poured a stream down the lower part of his face. his tongue slides near the cracked corner of his right lip, and he’s just luxuriating at the treacly taste of you. if you tasted this good, maybe the second place wasn’t so bad after all. .

as he’s still lapping up his lips with a wolffish grin, geto notices you openly gawking at his bulge and he snickers, patting his fly with a gloved hand. “it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

“it’s rude to walk around with a bulge that big.”

“oh yeah? how ‘bout you fix that problem for me then, rookie?”

a brat, almost as much of a brat as you.

geto gets silenced once you slam your lips onto his, not even batting an eyelash that you’re tasting yourself on his tongue that’s swirling around yours.

it’s intense, you could feel your heartbeat start to match the exact pulsing pace from between your legs. his lips were icy, and you moaned—tasting a bit of mint that resides on his tongue.

his breath is freezing cold, it’s an almost sweet candied taste and you whine in his mouth once his hands start to roam up and down your body.

geto’s feeling you up- feeling up the pretty girl who just beat him in a race.

rough protected hands drag down your frame, taking in your curves before toying with the leather straps that droop against your pink lace-up chaps.

it’s as if even the kiss was far more competitive than the actual street race.

both desperately fought to win, swerving through each tongue like swerving lanes.

geto grunts, lightly pushing your ass back against the hood of your car. as tongues twist and tango in lewd unison, he seductively sucks on your pointed tip.

as geto’s eyes open halfway, you open yours, and he’s just staring at you with a look of feral - a carnal smug grin tweaking on each side of his lips.

“turn around again, pretty. hands on y’r hood like…this,” and once he spreads you apart, you moan once he rubs his bulge against the middle fabric of your pants. “good hah- messy girl.” his bulge was so damn hard, it felt like a brick.

the more he rubbed himself against you, the more your body ached and yearned for more.

oh..

his hands, geto kept his racing gloves on the entire time. as the stretchy rubber sensually crawls down your waist, you hear the jangling of his studded skull belt. with a few shuffles, he leans up close, pinning your hands behind your back like you were under arrest.

“just for the record again, you didn’t ‘beat’ me, you cheated,” and you scoff, feeling frigid air waft between your inner thighs. oh- here he goes again. talk about a sore fuckin’ loser.

“sur— mmph,” and he cuts you off, placing a gloved palm over your mouth.

“quiiiiet, you’ll get your turn to talk,” he cuts you off, and you let off a moan once you feel his bulbous tip smack against your sopping cunt.

it’s loud..

dozens of paps and squelches leave it right away and he plants a wet kiss near your exposed neck.

the rubs from his blushing reddened cockhead make loud noises that constantly replay through your empty mind.

“see? let her talk,” and you swallow thickly, feeling him use an extra hand to pry your legs apart further. clammy, big hands glue against the pink hood of your car before your tongue tastes the metallic fibers of his glove. “so eager. poor baby,” he coos against your ear, feeling you trying to swallow and gulp him down right away. your twitching pussy’s aching, and you can’t help the pathetic whimpers that hiccup from your lips. you even try to wriggle your ass but he rubs a hand underneath your clit. “aw, impatient are we? what’s the sayin’, princess? slow ‘n steady wins the race?”

‘okay…but i beat you,’ was what you were saying in your head… but you sort of forgot his hand was covering your mouth. duh girl.

“mmph—” you let off a muffled moan against the palm of his hand, trying to wriggle your ass against him harder.

geto lowly groans and then you groan, feeling what was a piercing that attaches toward his pre-creamed dewy frenulum. geto strokes himself a bit, fisting his cock. with hooded, jaded eyes, he watches his loose skin peel back before arising up again and he hisses. the frenulum perfectly hooks itself over his tip, and oh- how you wished you could have seen it.

you couldn’t see but, fuck did you feel it.

you’re so wet, your swollen pussy lips resemble a blossoming flower as he spreads you apart with two scissoring rubber fingers.

his dick piercing almost tickles once it starts to rub against you some more. he swipes it all against your clit, teasing it near your opening before pulling it right back out. “fuck,” you whine once he finally removes his palm from your mouth, glossy strands of your saliva coating the entirety of your hand. “h.. hurry up, suguru. ‘m gonna fall asleep at this rate.”

geto rolls his eyes, and that’s when with a semi-loud thud, your chest lands against your hood.

“oh please..” he murmurs, a brow twisting upward in annoyance. one of his hands still has its grip on your wrists and you bite your lip in anticipation.

geto’s tip leaked with creamy coating pre, and you felt remnants of it sprinkle against your entrance. with a raspy grunt, he drags his angered pierced crownhead down your drooling folds before roughly smacking it against your cunt.

more sloppy wet splats! of squelches spurt out from your folds as if it’s saying its own kind of lewd language and he grunts.

geto makes sure you’re arched over the hood of your car before whistling at your presented frame. “so damn…pretty,” and within seconds, he’s easing his way inside.

immediately, your eyes widen with your jaw collapsing down like earlier—fuck, he’s big.

from the countless times, you stared at his bulge, you figured as much. geto’s vast head had a rosy-pink tint of vermillion with how close it mirrored to being a pinkish red.

sucking in a greedy breath, he watches as he’s gradually disappearing inside of your cunt. his pierced dick made things even more sensitive, and you moan once you feel the piercing softly graze its way inside of your fluttering orifice.

pasty gummy walls welcome him, and now it’s his turn to bite his lip.

“hng, f- fuckin’ big,” you try to inhale a single breath, and he raises your leg just a bit. it now sits over your hood- and damn it, the angle he has was just brutal.

you just knew you were gonna feel him everywhere.

geto’s obelisk-like girth was wide ‘n fuckin’ tall, you felt him fully and the shaft ring that’s on top of his top continues to kiss against your sensitive throbbing nub.

prince albert to be specific!

it decorates his tip perfectly, making sure to tickle inside of you as he’s feeling you clamp down. “shiiiit,” you slur out your words in a mere whiny syllable, gasping at the curved column of his fat dick search through your walls like a maze. he’s expanding through you and you can’t help but part your lips, squealing before letting off a cute, ‘ooohh!’

your hand prints stick against the pink-stained hood of your car due to the insane amounts of perspiration and you whine once he gives you one biiiig thrust.

just one- and ah!

it rocks your world - literally.

you let off a cute squealing shriek, your legs shimmying a bit from his pressed-up weight.

“atta girl, bare ‘round me, good girl—fuck,” and the warmth you envelop his dick with makes him groan. your pussy was clingy, already so eager to devour him whole.

within a few punctuated thrusts to start, geto’s finally fucking you and each vigorous piston of his honed snatched hips makes your crossed eyes roll back in needy rapture.

his hands now stick toward your sides and you’re just whimpering from his size over and over again.

weighty inches pound into you at full speed, giving you whiplash every time as he impales your sweet greedy cunt. “fuck, mhm,” you bawl a fist against your car, gritting your teeth. riiiight there, the moment his tip smooches its way against that pretty bullseye spot, it’s over. there, he locates a spongy texture with the mushroomy pierced crown of his cock and it earns out a sobbing whimper from you. “ahng! right there, fuck. faster, there sugu.”

“right there, fuuuuck. faster there, sugu,” he mocks your whiny babbles, fully exaggerating.

to hell with him, you didn’t even sound like that but oh, did he enjoy getting on your nerves. just like you did- cute.

geto’s hefty sack smacks back against you from each nudging thrust he creates with his hips. every time, it makes him groan at how your body cutely slams back against him. with how sharp your ass pounds on his dick, those pretty wet sounds singing straight from your cunt- a sound way better than screeching tire wheels. “god, so fuckin’ warm. hah, squeezin’ all around me,” and as his irregular breathing patterns pick up, he leans in to kiss a slope down your neck. “bend over just a bit more- hah. there we go, m- my good girl.”

as your chest continued to lie flat down against your car’s hood now—he’s got you at such an angle to where you feel his cock expand everywhere.

it reaches every depth and rummages through every open orifice or just about near it. “oh my god!” you whimper out, hearing the sloppy sounds of your cunt whistle through the silent night. geto’s hitting you deep, slamming his keen hips into you with such rhythm, and each time he does, your brain short circuits.

tiny invisible stars circle and float over your head as you’re completely dumbfounded, thinking about nothing but how big his cock is and the way his pierced tip just plummets its way in and out of your drooling cunt.

speaking of drooling—you were starting to drool from the slit cracks of your mouth. you couldn’t help it- his dick was out of this world, and maybe you were exaggerating but fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. ever.

geto’s hastily rearranging your insides with just a few inches and it felt oh so good.

it was so good that you forgot the two of you raced together. you forgot about street racing as a whole, and instead, he had you dumb from his dick. “biiiiig fuckin’ stretch baby,” he’d grunt, starting to witness viscid stringy strands glue against each slapping thighs. geto’s dick slips out for a minute and he groans, gradually sliding himself back in.

it’s a sloppy ‘pop’ that rings between your cunt and it’s cute. you were wringing him dry, and with how wet you were, it wasn’t exactly helping things.

geto’s hot breath brushes against the open part of your neck before he gives your ass another playful swat. “fuck, that’s it. fuck back against me, don’t get lazy, uh huh. work those hips baby, f- fuck.”

as you weakly try to sway your ass into him to coordinate in sync with his crazed hips, he holds you in place—pumping inch after inch into you.

his cock sheaths inside between your syrupy-coated pussy almost effortlessly, and you let off a melodic moan the second his tip starts making out with your g-spot.

the pierced bulbous head dared to french kiss against there—making you writhe around him, on the verge of losing composure. you don’t think you’ve felt more sensitive than ever.

geto’s silvery dick piercing probes up and down your pearly clit every few seconds and he grunts at the gripping friction. “suguru…..fuuuck!” and as your words start to get bouncy, more sweet whimpers rose out of your sore throat. “more, more.”

“ungh,” he purses his lips together as he feels your cunt hungrily swallow his cock from top to bottom. with a rough pound, your ass smacks against his base—right near his tender plump testes and he groans.

such power-

even geto’s stunned for a moment, and his head throws itself back. the air surrounding you both starts to feel thick as smoke, and his eyes glance at your exposed backside that’s oh-so-pretty while arched.

all for him, and him only.

geto’s hips were simply maddened, and even he didn’t care about the race anymore.

well actually, maybe he did a little..

your pussy was brimmed with cock — sooo full, and you felt yourself starting to pant quicker and quicker. it’s as if you were having a literal street race with your breathing. geto’s getting lost inside of you, and it’s only a matter of time before his hips turn wildly sloppy.

gloved hands still reel you back into him as he’s breaking sweats within each long millisecond that passes. “pheww,” he’d wipe a sheet of sweat off his forehead, veins bulging in his beefy tatted arms. the drenching grip you had on his dick had him craving more…more of you.

the stoutness of his shaft jackhammers inside of your walls repeatedly until you’re on the verge of breaking yet again. geto grunts, the loud quick snap of his hips bringing him back to reality every time he’s about to go into another fantasm.

“fuuuck, ‘m gonna cum,” his words come out in a quiet rasp, and he claws a hand near the back crown of your head. “god,” his jaw tightens, and geto leans right up close to your neck, panting heavily against the outer shell of your ear. as long tangled tresses of hair freely cascade past his shoulders - all ruffled and messy from his helmet, he groans. “where do ya want it, sweetheart. tell m—”

“insideee,” you whine, barely giving him time to finish his husky words. your legs slightly raise against your headlight as it’s still stretched up and over.

geto’s still hitting you deep - so deeply good, swollen tip massaging every part of your clit and all. dozens of your toes curl up in erotic excitement as your tongue lolls out. you probably looked a sight. “inside, sugu, in- fuckin’- side.”

sassily smacking his lips together, he spanks you. “tch, dumb girl,” and the racer brings a hand to wrap around your neck. with a firm safe grip, his gloved thumb caresses a trail up your neck before he drills into you much quicker.

each snap of his hips draws out harmonic whines from you, gargled moans following out of your throat shortly afterward. the burn that’s twinging near the undersides of his thighs grows more and more intense before he geto lets out a guttural growl.

so……damn….. wet..

your flooding cunt’s slathering all over him, dripping near his base and he can’t help but snicker. “hah, fine. better hold still though.”

“fuck,” you whimper in response, feeling his sharp hips pound into you at such a pace. his rhythm was insane and there was no way in hell you could match his pace.

when it came to geto’s speed- yeah, you’d always lose. sure, you may have won today but when it came to his cock- you were losing with the hasty speed of his hips drilling into you at such miles per fuckin’ hour. .

as his turgid fat tip gives its final thrusting pumps inside of your cunt, geto’s body starts to violently shudder.

oh.. you were about to wring him dry. with a mewling slosh sound leaving the front your folds, you gush out yet again.

but at the same time…. so does he.

geto’s head remained tossed back with his round adam’s apple bobbing out of his throat. gnawing in the inside of his squishy cheek, he lets off a low grunt. his abs cockily flex through the white tee that tucks underneath his half-on leather jacket.

geto pulls out though, and it’s quick like the flash. he doesn’t finish inside to your devastated surprise, and a downturned pout forms on your lips. he huffs, watching such creamy-white amounts gush ‘n goo out in ropes and he sprays it on the outside of your pussy.

“damn,” he murmurs, feeling the awkward needy fidget of your hips. cute. darkened eyes remain on you the entire time and he grabs ahold of his veiny cock, aligning hit pierced tip against your pearled throbbing clit. “heh.. ain’t that a pretty sight,” and he smears it all against your pasty-creamed entrance.

now . . it’s painted with his color, white.

and geto came a lot because it’s still trickling out in ribbony globs, filthily oozing from the thick girthy sides and all like an erupted volcano. his teeth get caught by his quivering bottom lip as he watches such immoderate ropes of cum leave out of him. “such a- hah, messy girl,” and as he’s still lathering his sloppy seed that’s pouring out, sticking wads of splotches between the heat of your thighs, geto squeezes your ass. “awww,” he huffs breathily, noticing a few ivory stains splattered near the pink bumper of your car. “oops. might wanna clean that, sweetheart.”

hours passed . . many hours, and to say that you got fucked stupid was merely an understatement.

suguru geto had the stamina equivalent to a toyota supra MK4. his horsepower was his hips- with the added addition of his cock driving in and out of you.

but oh- you knew he wouldn’t be running out of gas soon.

or would he?

so. . many rounds, geto had you questioning your insanity the entire time, all because of his dick. if it was one thing he knew how to do, it was to fuck.

whether it involved his tongue or not, he knew how to make you feel good. it was one of the many things he excelled at, truly.

the only thing that got in the way was his cocky smug ego. every few seconds, he’d boast and remind you for the umpteenth time that your win was an unruly cheat, a hoax, or that he just couldn’t see the finish line because of your pink fucking smoke.

of course, geto didn’t say that part, that would have been him admitting that he lost the race and his pride couldn’t let him admit that he lost fair in square—

but your pussy could.

“hngh,” he falls back against your front cottony plus seat. geto grunts with a scowl entrapped in his thoughts. you pushed him - the audacity.

both of you were still sensitive but you had a tiny trick up your sleeve. “got some.. nerve,” and with low-dropped eyes, he watches you align yourself on his swollen pierced tip yet again.

he’s soft-flaccid, and he was pretty ran down. maybe now, geto was finally starting to run out of gas. with sweltering reddened lips smearing together, he watches you pick back up his expensive helmet, putting it over your head. “oh, gonna ride me while wearing my helmet, yeah? do your wors— oh.. fuck.”

his priggish words come to a not-so comedic halt the moment your cunt slams down on his cock. geto was still sensitive and he slouches back against your programming warming seat, dark eyes rolling back.

“goddamnnn,” and as your hips swerve around in circles identical to 360 car donuts, he sees you touching yourself while wearing his helmet. “fuckin’ brat—god.”

“aw,” you mock the exact faux caring tone he did to you earlier, making him touch you by bringing his shaky rubber hands toward your chest. geto’s fingers feel against the cropped top you wore, squeezing at your jiggling neglected breasts. “c’mon, sugu. i gotta guide your hands now too?”

“tch, shut up,” he groans, his heavy-sunken base sticking near your skin. dried splotches of cum glue against your sheeny ass as your hips continue to whirl ‘n rotate. you were unpredictable—you moved and jerked while he sat there with the most pussy drunken expression. geto lowly grunts, already feeling his balls starting to tighten up. he was trying to stop a sleazy grin from forming and oh.. was your cunt just making it impossible. “shit, ‘m not gonna last. s- still fuckin’ sensitive…. fuuuckk.”

the pink honda’s loud grumbling engine resounds through the echoey walls of the isolated garage with only the sounds of sheer skin slapping and a mixture of grunts following afterward. without thinking, you lift his helmet off of you, leaning in to kiss him and he returns the gesture almost right away.

geto’s lips were a tad bit delayed once they pressed onto yours. its a small yet cute detail- how he’s so pussy drink that he could barely crash his lips onto yours. as he’s moaning from your hands feeling on his burly tatted arms, his tongue sloppily delves into your mouth with no rhythm whatsoever.

maybe you were crazy, but you think you heard a whimper leave from his lips as he tried to nibble on your tongue. geto grunts, feeling that same pressure from earlier build up and fuck.. you were about to make a mess out of him . . . again!

his dick stills itself inside of you and his hands continue to roam down your body, further and further away from your jostling bouncy tits. “fuck ‘m cumminggg,” he’d moan between sultry kisses as stringy strands of saliva entangle with one another.

wetly, they form a web of sheeny lustrous cobwebs. geto’s foot rests against your bedazzled hard brake pedal before within seconds, he cums again.

this time, inside.

but it’s different this time- so so different.

it feels tenderly warm..

such hot gooey amounts dribble inside of you, spraying further inside your precious womb and you hum at the feeling.

his pierced cock fitting real nice and snug inside and you moan into his mouth, cocking your head in different directions as you trap his lips with another steamy kiss. “mmph.” a muffled whimper gets caught against your lips and you can already start to feel the whiteish searing ropes of fresh cum trail down the insides of your thighs. geto feels you slowing down on his lap—still buried balls deep, and he grunts in defeat..

soon, embarrassment overtakes him once he realizes how early he finished.

it’s a lot, again.

a thick load splatters heavily inside and past the inner lining of your cunt and he’s shivering underneath you. once you finally break away from his lips, your eyes meet his.

geto’s staring back at you, and you don’t see that cocky sly look in his eyes that everyone else sees.

right now, he looks…needy, and you think you broke him.

“what . . ?” he grouses, his hands still attached to your waist. his grip- it was gentle and tender a rubber thumb softly caressing down your curve. geto wasn’t ready for you to leave the garage, at least not yet.

“say it, pretty boy,” you whisper, pressing a kiss near his chin. your touch - it drove him mad.

never in a million years would he, suguru geto- have thought he’d get humbled by a rookie . .

humbled by you.

geto’s shooting straight daggers at you, but you can tell how flustered he is because he breaks eye contact a second later. you’re making him nervous, the same feeling he was making you at first when you had your first encounter with him.

as geto’s still warmly buried inside, he grunts once you take it upon yourself to softly wrap a hand around his throat.

oh- you were a mere tease, mimicking his exact movements from earlier. slightly wide-eyed and all, geto stares at you. and as he does—there’s that familiar glimpse of brattiness glimmering in his irises again.

you fucking turned him on..

“heh, f- fine then,” he stammers, heaving every few seconds to catch his irregular breaths. his body felt like it was on empty. no more gas left in him and that same cunning grin that plastered on his lips slowly started to fade.

geto’s not so cocky now, and in fact— he lets off a soft quiet whimper once you start to grind against his lap.

shakily, his hand squeezes your ass before finishing his sentence in a shaky defeated rasp.

“you . . fuckin’ win, sweetheart,” and you let off a sweet gasp once a loud smack! interrupts the moment, his hand swatting against your ass. “mhm,” geto grunts, “didn’t s- say stop. finish ridin’ me, sweetheart,” and his gloved finger swirls itself inside of your stuffed full cunt before pulling it right back out.

again, he’s filthy.

and even while being in such a state, geto brings his fingers up to his lips, slowly poppin’ them into his mouth before tasting the concoction mixture of both bittersweet messes. your syrupy cum and his.

quickly, he presses the tips of his rubber fingers toward his uvula, before staring at you with a greedy smug expression. he’s panting harshly, still trying to get over how you just outrode him literally, and he laps up his fingers right in front of you.

geto reclines your seat back a bit as you still straddled him, and he gives your ass its final spank before tiredly huffing,

“best- two out of three, what do ya say, r- rookie?heh..”

#★vegasbaby.#geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #female reader #geto suguru #geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk #anime smut

10K notes · View notes

soaps-mohawk · 7 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 23: Regrets

Summary: Depression: a common mental health condition characterized by a low mood or loss of pleasure or interest in activities for long periods of time.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,940

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, mental illness, depression, very heavy emotionally, angst, Johnny gets his feelings hurt (but only for a moment), angst, everyone is having big emotions, Bella Swan-esque sad montage, angst, kissing, slight suggestive content, angst

A/N: Did I completely rewrite part of this during the editing process? Yes. Are you going to thank me for that? Also yes. I'm trying something a bit different with this chapter, so let me know what you think. It probably won't be a regular thing, but I just thought I'd give it a test and this chapter was the perfect time to do that.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

They’re right. There’s a hole in your chest, an empty void. The squeaking of your shoes on the tiles sounds far away as you numbly walk back towards your room.

“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks cautiously as you pause in front of your door long enough to turn the handle.

You turn to look up at him, his brows pinched and his eyes shining with concern. “He's gone.” Your voice cracks and shakes, breaking over the words like you're speaking the finality of the situation.

You are.

“I know.” Johnny reaches out, his fingers wrapping around your arm. “I wish there had been more warning, but this is usually how his solo assignments go.”

You swallow thickly. “He'll come back, right?”

Johnny grimaces. “Ye know I can't promise that. But, there's no one quite as capable in the field as him, except maybe Price.” Johnny squeezes your arm gently. “He’s been doing this for a long time, kitten. Have faith in that, and his skills.”

Johnny’s words do nothing to help the turmoil inside you, the fear and anxiety. One split second mistake, one wrong decision and you know it could be over. Everything could be over before it even started. Why didn’t you confront him sooner? Why didn’t you pick up on his true feelings, his emotions as quickly as he seemed to decipher yours? It’s not fair that they can be taken from you so easily and so quickly. There’s no room for argument, no room for any begging or pleading for them to stay. They have a job, and they’ll always choose that job over you.

“Ye gonna be alright?” Johnny asks, letting his hand fall from your arm as you push open your door, entering your room before closing it in immediately, clicking the lock into place. You lean against the door for a moment, biting your lip to try and stop the tears as you begin to shiver from the dampness of your clothes.

You leave your shoes in a pile next to the door before you pad silently to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes once you hit the tile. You’re shivering, a cold chill starting to seep into your very bones as you start the tub, letting it fill with water. The tears blur your vision, dripping into the steaming water as you sink into the bath. You can’t stop the tears as you sit there, not caring how hot the water is, not caring how it makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. You’ll take the pain, the discomfort. Anything to ease the pain that’s ripping your chest wide open.

It hurts, he won’t lie, when you close the door in his face. Well, it wasn’t entirely in his face. He was a foot away from the door, but it still causes a little ache in his chest, a little upset in his mind that you just cut him off like that. The click of the lock is like a finality, the gavel falling on your decision to distance yourself for now.

The rejection of his offer for comfort has his beta stirring uncomfortably in his mind. Tears fill his own eyes as he stares at the handle of your door, wishing he could reach out and grab it, fling it open and take you into his arms and hold you until you stop crying, until the pain of Simon’s sudden absence goes away.

“Come on.” John says quietly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Give her some time.”

He lets John lead him away from your door and back towards the rec room. He shouldn’t be so hurt by your abrupt dismissal. You were quite obviously upset, upset enough to run out into the rain after Simon. He saw you race out the door, his stomach clenching in worry, but thankfully the rain had forced most inside. There was little threat to you, not with Simon there, but he had been worried you might not be able to catch him, that you might run blindly into the rain to try and find him.

He had spotted the tears trailing down your cheeks as you walked back to the barracks, mixing with the rain that soaked straight through you. He’s used to his alpha having to leave suddenly, the distance and the worry are second nature now thanks to their jobs, their lifestyles. You’ve never been through this before with him, though, and so soon after the two of you were finally beginning to give in. It’s like a curse. They begin to get close to you, and then suddenly they’re ripped away.

He almost feels guilty, like he’s responsible for your pain. If he hadn’t forced it, if he hadn’t put you both in that position, maybe you wouldn’t be so upset. He couldn’t have known, though, that Simon would be called away like that. It could happen at any time, they all know that. They always have to be ready, always have to be prepared to be called out. Even on leave they can’t guarantee there won’t be an emergency. It’s just the nature of their job.

It wouldn’t have bothered any of them before you.

“She didn't take it well, did she?” Kyle says as John guides Johnny to sit on the couch next to him.

“Christ, she's so upset.” Johnny says, leaning his head in his hands. “If I hadnae pushed them, then this wouldn't have happened.”

“You couldn't have known this was going to happen.” Kyle says, squishing Johnny between him and John to try and comfort the upset beta.

“We didn't even know until a couple of hours ago.” John says, draping his arm across the back of the couch.

“If she's this upset at one of us leaving...how upset was she when we all left?” Johnny says, his stomach churning at the thought. No wonder you were so shaken when they came back.

“The best thing we can do right now is leave her alone and let her do what she needs to do.” John says, pulling Johnny so he's resting against his chest. “She'll come out when she's ready.”

The afternoon comes and goes, the rain slowing to a light drizzle. You still haven’t left your room, sealed inside, secluded from them. Johnny casts the closed door a wistful look every time he walks down the hallway, half tempted to try the knob and see if it’s been unlocked, but he stops himself. The last thing you need is to be scared by someone trying to get in. John is right. You’ll come out when you’re ready.

John knocks on your door as they get ready to head to dinner, waiting a moment for some type of response. “We’re going to dinner, sweetheart.” He says through the door when there’s no answer to his knock. “Do you want us to bring you something?”

There’s a quiet noise from your room, some muffled response to John’s question.

“We’ll be back soon.” John says, somehow able to make out what it is you said. Or maybe his plan was to bring you something regardless of whether you agreed or not.

It feels strange, just the three of them walking to the mess. It’s not the first time they’ve gone just the three of them, but it feels different this time. It’s not Simon’s missing presence that weighs so heavily, it’s yours.

There’s a tenseness that’s settled over them as they sit at the table, avoiding eye contact with each other. Simon’s empty space at the table wouldn’t have felt so much like an empty chasm if you had been there to fill some of it.

They’re not sure what to do, the feeling similar to what they felt upon their return. They knew it would be bad, but they hadn’t expected you to be in shambles like you were. Their pack mate is hurting, their omega is hurting, and there’s nothing they can do. They don’t know what to do. Johnny wants to kick in your door, rush into your room and envelop you in a hug so tight you’ll complain that you can't breathe. He just wants to help you, but that’s not what you want, what you need right now.

He knows it’s his beta instincts, his need to comfort and soothe and support. If Kyle is feeling the same way, which Johnny knows he has to be, he’s hiding it well. Though, perhaps that’s just for his sake and John’s. He can’t even imagine what John is going through, knowing his omega is suffering in such a way.

All because Simon is gone.

How easily one missing piece could tear the pack apart. If something happened to one of them, or god forbid something happened to you, they might not be able to recover. They had always assumed their training would win out, that they could move past it in the way they would had there been nothing but the bonds of camaraderie between them.

How silly that idea had been.

It’s no secret death disrupts pack stability, shakes the bonds that tie a pack together. He remembers how his Grannie’s death had shaken his family for weeks and it had taken months to return to what could be considered normal after a partially expected death of a member of the pack. What kind of damage would an unexpected and sudden death do to a pack?

Johnny shakes the thought from his head. There was always a risk. They all knew that, they all agreed to that when they signed up. He knows Simon is highly skilled, well accustomed to working alone, to completing solo assignments successfully. The risk of something happening was always high, but he trusts Simon and puts faith in his skills.

John goes back through the line once they finish, making a tray for you and piling it high as usual. It always makes him happy to see how well cared for you really are. Despite the circumstances of you being added to their pack, he knows it could have been so much worse. There’s worse packs, worse alphas out there. At least with them, you’re an equal. You’re their precious omega, and they’d make anyone who threatened you regret that decision.

John is surprised the handle turns when he tries it. You’ve gotten up at least, but he’s not surprised to find you back in the same place you’ve likely been all day. He closes the door behind him before moving to your bed, setting the tray of food down on your nightstand. You squint as he flicks the lamp on, reaching up to rub your eyes. The bed dips as he sits on the edge, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.

“I know this is hard for you.” He says softly, brushing his fingers across your bare arm. Your skin is warm, likely from being burrowed under the blankets. “I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now.”

“He's gone.” You say quietly, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Just for a while.” He says. “He’ll be back.”

“But you can’t promise that.” You argue, pushing yourself up to sit. Your cheeks are still damp with tears, eyes red and lips still trembling.

“There’s always a risk,” He says softly. “But you have to trust Simon. He’s not going down without a fight.” He sighs quietly as your gaze drops to your hands, your fingers picking at the skin around your fingers. He slips his hand into yours, stopping you from continuing. “What’s eating you?”

“I should have told him.” You sniffle, your eyes on his hand as your fingers close around it. .

“Told him what?” He prods gently, curiously.

“That I love him.” You say, lifting your gaze to look at him. “I should have said it but I didn’t and now what if he doesn’t come back? I love all of you, and I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” The words end in a sob, tears sliding down your cheeks again.

Your words take him by surprise. It’s no secret how they feel about you, how their feelings have grown from curiosity to companionship to attraction and now to love. All of them have come to love you in their own ways, even Simon in his resistance wasn’t immune to his feelings, to their shared feelings towards you.

“Look at me.” He cups your face gently, his thumbs wiping the falling tears. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, I wish they hadn't picked us to be first for this. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to put you through this. I wouldn't change having you as my omega, but forcing you to live like this, to be left behind with the worry over something none of us can control.” He shakes his head. “It was a selfish decision by those who created the initiative.”

“What...what happens if the initiative fails?” You ask softly.

“We’re not giving you up.” He says, holding your gaze. “We wouldn’t want to, and we wouldn’t let it happen. You’ve been part of this pack since the day you stepped foot on this base. We wouldn’t have let you go then, and we sure as hell won’t now.”

Your breathing is shaky as you stare at him, and he can see the wheels turning in your head, the hesitation as you debate whether you want to speak. He hates that you still feel this way, that you have to hide your thoughts from them out of fear or worry that they might be angered by them. He’s not sure there’s anything you could say that would anger him.

“Would you ever leave for me?” You speak the words slowly, hesitantly, like they might bite you if you're not careful.

He's not expecting it, though he has wondered if you'd ever ask it of them. If it might come to be too much and it leaves you no choice but to ask, to give them the ultimatum. He lets out a breath, all the answers he'd thought up in response gone as he sits face to face with you, as he faces this question out in the open for the first time. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you stare at him, taking his silence as second thoughts, as possible rejection.

“Please be honest with me.” You whisper shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek.

He watches its path as it slides down your cheek, pausing at the line of your jaw before it drips down onto your shirt. He lifts his gaze back to yours, the pain in them stabbing straight into his heart. He wants to say yes, that he'd leave in a heartbeat, give up what he'd worked his whole life to achieve, all for an omega. His omega.

He wouldn't be able to sleep at night, knowing the kind of evils that exist in the world, the kinds of threats that linger in the dark. The evils that may pose a threat to you and his pack. You’ll never be truly safe, not so long as there’s others who know of your existence. Very few of them he’d truly trust with the knowledge that you pose a threat to their efficiency as a team, a weakness that could be exploited.

What bloody fucking fools they were, leaving you alone like that.

“Part of me wants to say no,” He admits honestly, ignoring the flash of pain in your eyes. “But it would depend on the situation. If your life was ever in danger because of us, then without question. If the initiative fails, if we can't adjust, then we may have no other choice.”

“The job comes first.” You say quietly, sounding defeated.

“But there may come a time when it doesn't.” He says, trying to reassure you. “Don't worry about that too much right now.” He brushes a hand over your hair. “If a situation arises, then we'll talk about it further.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You lean into him, letting out a quiet breath. He pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I love you too.” He says, his lips brushing the top of your head. “And Simon knows how you feel.”

You shift in his arms, pulling back just slightly to stare up at him. Your brows are pinched as you stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Simon is very good at reading people. Their scents, their emotions, their body language. Years of training paired with his own natural abilities.” He smiles softly at you. “He knows how you feel.”

“Oh,” You say, shrinking into yourself.

“He'll likely convince himself it's not true, knowing him and how he thinks. You'll have to tell him to make him believe it.” He pats your leg under the blankets. “Don't worry too much about him. He'll be back before you know it.” He pushes himself up to stand. “Eat your dinner. We'll be around if you need anything.”

“John?” You ask, stopping him before he can leave.

He turns back around to face you. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” You say. “For everything.”

A small smile pulls at his lips. “Of course.”

You're just stepping out of the bathroom when the knock sounds on your door. You had gotten up to rinse your face with cold water, your skin starting to feel tight and itchy after nearly an entire day of uncontrollable tears. You freeze at the sound of knuckles tapping on the wood, your heart leaping into your chest. Is it one of the guys coming to tell you bad news? Has something happened to Simon?

Or is he coming back already?

You’re half scared, half hopeful as you make the short journey across your room to the door. You feel like you’re moving in slow motion as your fingers close around the handle, slowly pulling it open.

Johnny is standing on the other side, his face a mix of worry and sadness. It doesn’t help the despair already starting to manifest in you. Something must have happened to Simon. Something’s gone wrong. He’s not coming back, or they’ll have to leave to help him.

“Ye doin’ alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, his brows furrowing as he stares at you.

“Yeah.” You can’t help but wince at the way your voice cracks around the word. You sniffle, wiping at your nose with your sleeve.

“I have somethin’ for ye.” He says, his hands fiddling with the fabric he’s holding. You hadn't noticed it before now. “I was gonnae do Simon’s laundry, but I thought ye might want this.”

It’s one of Simon’s shirts he’s holding out to you, one of the black standard cotton t-shirts he often sports. Your fingers tremble as you take it, bringing the fabric to your nose. You don’t care that it’s dirty, having likely been soaked in sweat at one point. You inhale deeply, nose pressed into the fabric. It smells of soap and deodorant and him. Tears well in your eyes as you take in the scent, almost as if you’re getting it directly from the source.

You’re moving before you realize it, your arms wrapping around Johnny’s middle. He seems almost surprised by your action, his body tensing for a second before it relaxes, his arms wrapping around you.

“Thank you.” You murmur against his chest, a couple tears slipping from your eyes. You’re so tired of crying, but you can’t stop.

“Yer welcome, kitten.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Ye need anythin’...”

He leaves the other half unsaid, but you know what he means. You’re hesitant to pull away from him, wanting to just stand there and cling to him until Simon returns, but you know he’s busy. Eventually he’ll have to leave you too. You’re not sure you could handle watching him leave your nest, close your door behind him as he’s forced away to do his job.

Your door clicks as you shut it, holding Simon’s shirt to your chest. You’re tempted to wear it, to slip it over your head and bathe yourself in your scent, but you know if you do that, his scent will just fade faster and become overwhelmed by your own. The desire to bury yourself in it is strong, let his scent sink into your body and overwhelm your own.

Your eyes pass over the giant bear sitting in your desk chair before snapping back to look at it. An idea begins to form in your head as you set the shirt on your bed.

You grab the bear, hauling it to your bed and sitting it on the edge. You pull the shirt over its head, stretching the neckline slightly. The shirt is slightly baggy on the bear, but you don’t care as you maneuver it so it’s laying on the bed, trying to picture Simon in its place. It would be a tight squeeze, but then again it always is with any member of your pack. Their bodies don’t leave much space on the narrow mattresses by themselves, much less with you curled up with them. You can’t help the stirring in your chest, the yearning for more space, for a bed big enough to fit all of you at the same time. Big enough for Johnny to starfish himself comfortably, for you to escape the inescapable suffocating heat of their bodies that will build up inevitably.

Tears burn behind your eyes as you crawl onto the mattress, draping yourself across the giant bear. Simon’s scent wafts up around you as you press your face into the shirt, pretending it’s Simon you’re laying against. You can almost feel his arms wrap around you, holding onto you like you might disappear if he lets go. You squeeze your arms tighter around the bear, letting Simon’s scent seep into your mind and take away your fear and your worry and your pain for a little while.

It’s two days later when you finally leave your room. You’ve managed to stop the onslaught of tears, calming down enough to exist without being a weepy mess. There’s still an ache in your chest, though, the gaping hole that won’t close. A piece of you is missing, a piece you hadn’t even noticed was there until it was ripped out of you suddenly and violently. Your hug with Johnny had been the first time it had felt less intense, the aching abating just slightly.

They’ve just returned from their afternoon training, earlier than usual meaning they have some downtime before dinner. You can almost tell where he is before you leave your room, following the sounds of the TV. Your steps are slow and quiet, the cold tile biting into your bare feet as you approach the rec room.

He’s seated on the couch, spread out as usual. His eyes flicker to you as you hesitate in the doorway, tugging at the hem of the baggy shirt you’re wearing. You’ve long forgotten whose it is, the name on the tag worn off and all hints of scent erased by the many times you’ve worn and washed it. The thought tugs at the hole in your chest. Eventually Simon’s shirt won’t smell like him anymore, faded and rubbed away by time and your own scent.

“Hi kitten,” He says, breaking the silence between you.

You let out a shaky breath before entering the rec room, approaching him. You can tell he’s expecting you to sit next to him, to curl up against his side by the way he moves his arm, but instead you straddle his lap, all but throwing yourself against his chest. He grunts quietly in surprise, his arm instinctively wrapping around your back. You lay your head on his shoulder, going limp in his hold.

It doesn’t fix the hole, doesn’t remove the ache entirely, but you can feel it start to lessen as you sit there, getting as close to Simon as you possibly can through his beta. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt. He wraps his other arm around you, holding you tightly as his scent begins to project around you. Nothing is said, but nothing has to be. He knows what you need, and he doesn’t even have to use his instincts to figure it out.

A week goes by without a word from Simon or even about him and how he’s doing. You return to your normal routine in a numb, almost dazed state. You follow the rest of your pack around like a lost puppy, going to meals and following them to training when John allows, withdrawing back to your room like a recluse when you can’t. You sit in the rec room with them in the evenings, but you feel far away, distant from them and reality. You stare at the TV, but all you can see are blurry moving shapes. You can’t even read, often finding yourself staring at the cover until the words mesh and blur into something else.

You never thought the distance could feel like this. You almost miss the fear of them all being gone. At least that had made you feel something.

You see Dr. Keller twice as usual, both appointments unproductive as you fight to force some kind of life into yourself to drown out the numbness that’s settled. You’re far away, distracted from everything. Even food tastes different, more mushy and flavorless than usual.

They’re worried about you. Even in your numb state you can tell that. John hovers closer, allowing you to follow them more than he probably should. It’s not like you’re paying much attention to what they’re doing, seated far away from anything that might put you at risk as you stare up at the sky, or off at the trees in the distance. Even when you’re inside, your gaze is far away, never quite focusing on anything.

Johnny and Kyle keep you close as much as they can, squishing you between them on the couch or when you walk to meals. They’re always touching you, holding your hands, brushing your skin, wrapping their arms around you. They’re trying to comfort you, and it works for a little bit, not even your numbness impervious to a beta’s soothing presence. They hold onto you like they’re trying to keep you grounded to the earth, like you might float off and disappear into space if they don’t.

You don’t sleep well, electing to sleep in your room every night. It’s a vast difference to what you had been doing, avoiding your room as much as possible. You’re seeking out the safety of your nest, a comfort only it can provide despite everything that’s happened. You feel bad for pushing them away, keeping them at a distance, but at the same time, you don’t care.

You just want Simon back.

“I’m worried.”

“I know. I’m surprised you didn’t come here sooner.”

He feels strange, sitting in Dr. Keller’s office alone. It’s not the first time he’s been here, spoken to her about you. After their return from their first assignment, he had sat with Dr. Keller and gone over everything that had happened during their absence, or at least as much as she could tell him. Anything you talked about was considered confidential, but at least she could tell him if there were any issues or incidents.

“She’s depressed.” Dr. Keller answers before he can even ask. “It’s not uncommon for omegas to become depressed after separation. Even when there’s necessary splitting of a pack into a satellite, there’s a risk for all omegas to develop depression because of it.”

He should have known. He’s seen it happen to soldiers, when the blood staining their hands grows to be too much and they begin to recluse in their own bodies, becoming empty shells of who they were before. You’ve become a shell, a body simply existing out of necessity.

“What can we do?” He asks, unable to keep the mask up, to hide his concern and fear.

“Not much more than you have been.” She says. “Keep supporting her, reminding her that you’re there. There’s an adjustment when a bond begins to weaken. Omegas are especially susceptible to it, and with how strongly connected and aware of her instincts and emotions she is, it’s going to affect her more.” Dr. Keller sighs, leaning her arms on her desk. “I don’t think anyone has ever taught her how to balance or even use those purebred instincts. Institutes are supposed to, but from what we know, they teach subservience over anything.”

John shifts in his seat. Of course no one would have cultivated those abilities. It would have made you too aware, made the risk of you being able to manipulate them too high. Your job was to serve them above all else, so why would those teaching you want to give you that ability? Those instincts would have made you a perfect omega, able to pick up on the slightest changes, the needs of your pack. Yet, if you became too aware of your own abilities, it would give you too much power over them. That’s the one thing institutes don’t want...an omega that knows how powerful they are.

“How do we teach her?” He asks.

“I can help her with balancing those instincts and emotions, but only someone who knows can really teach her how to be successful at using them.”

“Simon.” He says, the pieces beginning to come together.

“If he didn’t know how before, his military training would have cultivated those instincts. That’s why purebreds are so sought after by militaries. Of course, it’s a bit different for alphas and omegas, but you are two sides of the same coin.” Dr. Keller smiles. “She’s smart. She’ll begin to figure it out on her own once she’s aware she can do it. In the meantime, just keep doing what you’re doing. If there’s some way she can talk to him or get in contact with him, that may help alleviate some of the depression.”

He knows it won’t be likely, but if it will help you, he’s willing to take that risk. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He stands outside your door, staring at the knob. It’s late, his eyes burning from exhaustion. He’s stressed, not just from the day to day stressors of his job, but your obvious pain and discomfort has been affecting him. It’s affecting all of them. Kyle and Johnny’s times on the course have slowed, their aim is off, and he knows they’re not sleeping well either.

Even with you beginning to return to your normal routine, your distance from them has proven to affect them more than your presence. Even with you around them, your numbed, absent state has disrupted their abilities to function, to exist as a normal pack. He’s relayed the sudden change to Kate in an attempt to prove his decision not to leave you alone is the right one, and it will help his case should they decide to try and separate you from the pack.

He can’t think of a reason why they would now. The bonds are too strong. The separation of just one of them has proven to disrupt the bonds between all five of you. He can only imagine how Simon is feeling, being apart from everyone. It’s never bothered him before, but that had been before your presence. If Simon was incapable of fulfilling his duties and performing the task he had been assigned, they would have forced him out of the field and sent him back by now.

Perhaps your fears were right and Simon isn’t as in love as John thought he was.

He shakes the thought from his head. He’s seen the way Simon looks at you, the obvious change in his demeanor since your trip to town, the changes that have happened in your demeanor around him. Simon cares for you deeply, more than just as an alpha in your pack.

He tries the handle of your door, surprised again when it opens. He might have thought you’d start locking it at night again with how much you’ve regressed. Maybe this was your silent plea for help, for comfort, for something other than the emptiness inside you. He slips into the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light of your nightlight in the corner. He can’t see you except for your arm tossed around the giant bear. It’s wearing a black shirt, likely the one Johnny had given you. It was a good decision, offering you at least an extension of the missing alpha.

He approaches the bed quietly, not wanting to startle you. He doesn’t want to climb over you either, but he knows moving the bear will wake you. Perhaps you’re exhausted and sleeping hard enough he won’t disturb you.

He picks the lesser of two evils, lifting the bear. He curses silently when your body shoots up as soon as the bear slips from your grasp.

“No!” You shout, almost like an angry child having their toy taken away. It’s a desperate sound, a shocking one, ringing loud in the silence. You’re reaching for the bear, trying to tug it from his hands.

“Easy, easy.” He says, putting his hand on your arm, your movements slowing to a stop as his touch brings back to reality. “I’m just moving him.” He shifts the bear to your other side, your body rolling to follow it.

He climbs into the bed, barely managing to fit on the mattress. It’s a tight squeeze with the two of you and the bear, but he’ll manage it. He’s slept in tighter places. He slips an arm under you, the other reaching across you to settle on the bear.

“Tight squeeze with the three of us.” He says quietly, trying to ease some of the tension.

“Need bigger beds.” You murmur, voice slightly muffled from where your face is pressed against the bear.

He chuckles quietly. “I won’t argue with that. Perhaps someday.”

You shift slightly at his words, obviously not expecting him to continue your conversation from earlier this week. He normally tried to avoid thinking too far into the future. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up for something he might never get to have. Or, at least he used to feel that way.

Things have changed.

“I used to think this job would be all I did.” He continues, speaking almost to himself. “I’d never grow old enough to retire. Someday I’d die in the field and that was good enough for me. Then, of course, things changed. Had those three other muppets to worry about.” He slips his arm from the bear to wrap around your stomach. “Then another little muppet got added. Now I’m thinking about a nice little cottage by the sea, big enough for five, with a nice flower garden in the front. Just a short walk to the beach, where we can sit and watch the sun set.”

“White picket fence dreams.” You say quietly.

“Or at least the British equivalent of that.” He says, a smile tugging at his lips.

You shift slightly in his arms, pressing back against his chest as you turn as far as you can. “You mean it?”

“Of course.” He says, his thumb gently rubbing your stomach through your shirt. “Things have changed. Priorities have shifted, and not just for me.”

He presses his forehead against the side of your head, breathing in the soft scent of your strawberry body wash and the new vanilla scented shampoo Johnny had gotten you. There’s a faint hint of leather beneath your scent, the smell rubbing off from Simon’s shirt you dressed the bear in. He can almost imagine Simon in place of the bear, both of their arms tangling around you as they surround you and keep you safe from the outside world. Just a moment of peace in the hectic violence and chaos of their lives.

“John?” You say quietly, pulling him from the edge of sleep that had settled in his mind.

He hums quietly in response, forcing himself back to consciousness again.

There’s a moment’s pause, a second of silence, and for a moment he wonders if you’re going to speak at all. “Don’t let go.” You finally say, your voice quiet and broken in the silence.

“Never.” He says, tightening his hold around you.

John's phone ringing drags you from the light sleep you had managed to slip into. It hasn't been long since you drifted off you think, but then again, it's hard to tell. It's still dark out, and you're still in the same position. John lets go of you to reach for his phone on your nightstand barely managing to grab it at the awkward angle he’s at.

His voice is rough with sleep as he answers. “Hello?”

It's quiet for a moment. You can't hear much aside from a male voice on the other side. You can't tell who it is or what they're saying.

“Good to hear.” He says, slipping into the Captain again.

Something stirs in your stomach as you try to listen, try to catch who it is. Just one word, just one hint.

“I'm sure.” There’s another pause, this one feeling like a lifetime. “I have someone here next to me that would like to talk to you too.”

You nearly elbow John in the stomach in your frantic attempt to turn over. You yank the offered phone from his hand as you lean the top half of your body on his stomach. “Hello?” Your voice wavers as you say it, the emotions beginning to stir within you again.

There's a second delay before you hear it. “Hello, love.”

You nearly cry at finally hearing his voice again, the pet name causing a fluttering in your stomach. You've never heard him call you that before. “I missed you.” You finally say, managing to get the words out.

“That's what I'm hearing.” He says, and you can imagine the lifting of his cheeks under the mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes as he smiles.

“When will you be back?” You ask.

“Soon. Won't be much longer.” He says.

“Be careful.” You say, your breathing shaky. “You better not come back hurt.” You're not sure you could handle it if he came back on a stretcher, or even with a single bandaid.

“Yes ma'am.” He says seriously, but you can hear the humor in his tone. “I'll try my best.”

“Good.” You say, wanting to lay there, to listen to him breathing for a while, just so that you know he’s really there, he’s really alright. You know you can’t though, your fingers shaking as you pass the phone back to John.

He speaks to Simon for a couple more minutes while you lay across his stomach, listening to the rumble of his voice in your ear. Relief is flooding through you after hearing Simon's voice. He's really alright, he's fine, he's coming home.

“You alright, sweetheart?” John asks after hanging up, his hand coming to rest on your back.

A thousand words want to come out of your mouth, but you can't get them up past the lump in your throat. “He called me love.” You finally say, replaying the pet name over and over in your head.

“Did he?” John asks, and you can picture the way his lips turn up in a smile.

“He's never called me that before.” You say.

“Well then I'm sure he meant it.” John says.

You sure hope so.

It's a week later when you get to stand on the tarmac again, waiting for a plane to land. It's early, the sky clear and the sun just starting to rise over the trees, casting everything in a golden light. It’s so vastly different from how the world had looked when he left, the weather seeming to convey your inner feelings. The rain and darkness a perfect symbol of the dread and pain of him leaving. Now that he’s returning the sun is out and the sky is clear, conveying your relief. You’re beginning to feel again, the ache in your chest beginning to lessen. It’s the most alive you’ve felt since he left.

You're in a dress today, the yellow sundress that Johnny had bought you. You wonder if he’d done it on purpose, perhaps knowing something you don’t. Despite the sun rising, there’s still a chill in the air, and you had quickly stolen his sweatshirt to cover your bare shoulders.

You squeeze John's hand as the plane comes in to land, watching it approach in eager anticipation. You're going to hug him tightly, throw your arms around him and refuse to let go until you have no choice. You're going to give him the greeting he deserved weeks ago when they all came back.

He's like a magnet, halfway down the ramp when you start approaching, moving without even thinking. He's in his full mask, the one with the half skull sewed to it. He looks dangerous and deadly, the true visage of a Ghost, but you approach without fear, without hesitation. Underneath all of it you know there’s Simon, the man you’ve quickly fallen in love with.

You're ready to hug him, to feel him again, to wrap yourself around him like you could sink right into his body.

You're not prepared for what he does next.

One of his hands reaches up, the fabric of his gloves rough on your skin as he grips your chin, his thumb on one side, digging into your jaw, the other four fingers on the other side holding your head still. His other hand pulls his mask up over his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his stubble and chapped lips.

You don't get to look long as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours.

It's like time freezes as he kisses you, your skin erupting in goosebumps, and it's not from the cold air. You weren't expecting this, your brain trying to catch up, to process that this is really happening, that this is real.

He tilts your head to the side, deepening the kiss as he leans closer into you. Your hands reach up, closing around the sleeves of his jacket. He's real, he's really here, and he's kissing you.

The moment likely doesn't last more than 30 seconds, but it feels like forever as his lips move against yours. It might be cliche to say fireworks are going off, but that may have just been the engines of the plane shutting down.

He finally pulls away from you, his hand still gripping your jaw. You could melt into a puddle right there, his eyes speaking volumes of what's going on in his head. He's done a lot of thinking in his time away. You wonder how many thoughts you've shared over the last two weeks.

“Should have done that before I left.” He says, his voice rough, but just as you remember.

Tears prick behind your eyes as you stare up at him. His fingers are digging into your jaw, but you don’t care. He’s here, he’s back, he’s safe, and he just kissed you like you’d wanted to before he left.

“I wish you had.” You say, as he slowly releases your jaw, his hand brushing your throat before it drops to his side. You let out a shaky breath before throwing your arms around him, holding onto him tightly.

“What are you doing?” He says, taking you back all those weeks ago to when you hugged him the first time. There’s no confusion in his tone now though, instead there’s an amused lilt to it.

“Giving you the hug you deserve so you don't get mad at me.” You say, your voice slightly muffled from your face being squished against his chest.

“You think I'd get mad about not getting a hug after kissing you?” He asks, patting your back.

“Just making sure.” You say, his chuckle reverberating in your ear.

You don’t release him as he begins to walk to where the others are, keeping your arms wrapped around him tightly. He greets the others, Johnny squishing you between them as he hugs his alpha. You don't care as Ghost's armor digs into your body, it's just a reminder that this is real. He's really here. This isn’t a dream.

He's really back.

You sit between Simon and Johnny in the back seat of the car. It's a tight squeeze between the two, but you don't care one bit. Johnny's hand rests on your thigh as John drives back to the barracks. Perhaps you’re still reeling a bit from the kiss, or perhaps it’s Simon’s scent, but you want to push Johnny’s hand higher, hike up your dress and hope Simon gets a peek at what's waiting underneath. You won’t though. You want him to be comfortable. You want your first moments of intimacy to be just the two of you, something special.

Dread begins to fill you again as the car rolls to a stop outside the barracks. You know what to expect now, having gone through it once before. He’s not truly back, he still has to leave you again. At least this time, you have the others.

“I'll see you soon.” Simon says, squeezing your arm.

“Hurry back?” You stare up at him.

“As fast as I can.” He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You're tempted to kiss him again, but you don't want to push his boundaries. Sure, he had kissed you, but it could have been a fluke, a one time thing born out of desire and time spent apart.

You won't care if he never kisses you again. At least you know what it feels like.

Thankfully he makes the decision for you as he turns his body slightly towards you, as much as he can in the tight space. He lifts the bottom of his mask, leaning down to kiss you again. You purr against his lips, your scent exploding in the car like a smoke bomb.

Johnny lets out an extensive curse as he fumbles for the door handle, forcing it open in an attempt to escape the sudden onslaught. Kyle is quick to follow, allowing more air in to disperse the intensity of your scent in the confined space. John rolls his window down, lighting a cigar, trying to do anything to keep your scent from going straight to his head.

You feel giddy and almost proud as Simon places one last soft peck against your lips. You don’t want to let him go, but you know you have to. He’s not quite yours yet. He still has more of his job to do before then.

Always the job first.

Your lips are still tingling as you walk into the barracks, your heart still fluttering in your chest. Johnny is staring at you, almost walking sideways. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, your face warming.

“What?” You ask, finally looking at him. He’s wearing that stupid, smug grin on his face again.

“Been a long time since I've seen him like that” He says, squeezing your arm gently. “Not since his first romp with Kyle.”

You turn to look at the other beta behind you who simply shrugs. “What can I say? No one's immune to my charm.” He gives you a dazzling smile. He’s not wrong, his smile causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“Cannae wait to see him glowin’ after his first taste of our sweet omega.” Johnny says, backing you against the wall.

“Yeah, well, you might be waiting forever for that.” You say, stopping his approach with a hand on his chest.

He tilts his head at you, his brows furrowing. “What do ye mean, kitten?”

“I'm not even sure he's going to want that, much less if he'll do it.” You shrug. The thought has been going through your mind despite the kiss in the car. Though he’s kissed you twice, that’s a big leap to make, a leap you might never make.

Johnny snorts at your response. “Kitten, he's been holdin’ himself back for weeks. He's just worried he may...be too much for ye.”

You give Johnny a look. “I can handle you, can't I?”

Johnny grins. “Aye, but this is...different. He's not gonnae make the first move. If ye want it,” He leans in closer. “Yer gonnae have to do it yourself.”

“Well,” You slip under his arm, nearly making him faceplant on the wall. “Then I best save my stamina for him, then.”

Kyle laughs, patting Johnny's back. “Set yourself up for that one, mate.”

You peel off Johnny's sweatshirt, adjusting the top of your dress before tossing his sweatshirt to him. “I'll see you both later.” You give them a smirk before turning on your toes, heading back to your room.

Johnny curses quietly behind you, and you just know his eyes are glued to your ass.

Johnny’s words replay over and over in your head as you go through your day as usual. Simon had returned to the barracks, going straight to his room to shower. You had been tempted to step into the hallway, to wait for him, but you know he’s not free yet. He still has paperwork to do, which you know from experience that could take a long time.

Thankfully, that gives you plenty of time to think about what you’re going to do. You're going to have to make the first move, but what if you move too fast? How do you even broach the subject?

“Hey Simon, welcome back. Would you like to rearrange my guts?”

“I cried the whole time you were gone, would you like to make me cry for a different reason?”

“Bend me over and fuck me like a real alpha.”

You facepalm at your own thoughts. You could just slowly initiate it. Start with touches, getting closer, more kisses. Leave yourself open to him in hopes he gets the message, that he pushes past that boundary and finally fucks you like he wants to.

Heat blooms in your stomach, sinking between your legs. You're all worked up and he’s only kissed you twice. Johnny’s words don’t help the fantasies in your mind. He’s scared you won’t be able to handle him. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought. He’s a big man. You know, you’ve felt it before. It’s hard not to, with some of the positions he’s put you in during your training, nothing but those grey sweatpants and his underwear as a barrier.

You wonder how he'll do it. Bend you over so you won't see his face? Keep the mask on and put you on your back so you can hold eye contact with him? Or will he finally take the mask off, finally let you see his face?

You assume the others have seen it, so when will it be your turn?

It’s not until after dinner when you hear footsteps down the hall. Johnny had gotten food for Simon who was still deep in his paperwork when you left for the mess. Despite his absence at the table still, it had felt less gaping, less like a black hole threatening to suck you all in. He’s back, he’s here. Soon he’ll fill that empty space again.

You try to stop yourself from running out of your room when the steps get closer. You’re not even sure it’s him. You don’t want to disappoint the others if you leave your room so excitedly in the hopes that they’re Simon. So instead, you stay seated on the edge of your bed, staring at your unlocked door. You want him to open it, to step into your room, but you know he won’t. He’s never been in your room. The furthest he’s entered is your doorway.

You’ll have to make the first move.

Your stomach nearly leaps out of your body as the boots stop in front of your door. You hold your breath in anticipation, too scared to move, too scared to throw open the door and risk your excitement being too much. You might push him away in your eagerness, but you’re not sure you can hide it much longer. You’d let him bend you over with the door open, hell, you’d let him take you in the hallway.

One step at a time. One step at a time.

You repeat it over and over in your head as you push yourself off your bed, moving to the door. He’s not going to knock, he’s going to wait for you to open it, for you to remove that barrier between you. He’s giving you the chance to change your mind, to go back, to call the two kisses enough and draw the line where you want it.

The doorknob is cold in your sweaty hand as you grasp it, turning it slowly. The gavel is falling, the slow opening of the door marks the finality, the crumbling of the final barrier. There’s no going back. The bond is too strong, the line has been removed completely.

You stare up at Simon as the door swings as far as it will open. His eye black is gone, washed off in the shower revealing the pale skin underneath. He smells good, cleaner than he had on the tarmac. You can smell it despite the space between you. Under the smell of his generic soap you can pick up his natural scent. Leather and eucalyptus and the musk of alpha. You want to drown yourself in it, rub it all over your skin until your own scent is gone.

“Hi.” You say, goosebumps forming across your skin from the intensity of his gaze. You’d forgotten how sharp it is, how easily he can peel away your layers as he stares at you.

“Hi.” He says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. You’d forgotten how deep it really is, the roughness around the edges harsher than usual, but you expected that. They had all been a bit hoarse after returning from their group deployment.

You continue to stare at him, lost in his earthy gaze. The hole in your chest has lessened to almost nothing, slowly the bond repairing itself just from the knowledge he's here, he’s standing in front of you. He’s real.

You clear your throat, smoothing your hands over your dress. His eyes drop, following the movement. “I thought you'd want to rest.” It's the first thing you can think of to say, speechless in his presence. He must be tired.

“I slept on the plane.” He shrugs.

“Yeah, but surely a real bed is a relief.” You say. You’d half expected him to retreat to his room, seeking out a comfortable bed. They’re not all that comfortable, but compared to what he probably was sleeping on these last couple weeks, it must feel like heaven.

“Probably is.” He says, his gaze shifting back to your face.

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stare up at him. You’re testing the waters, pushing into new territory as the last walls of the barrier crumble around you. “You could go rest.” You say, shifting on your feet, giving him the option to turn away, to change his mind. “I’m sure you missed your bed.”

He’s still as a statue as he looms in your doorway, his frame filling it easily, making you feel small. “I'd rather relax in yours.”

Your face warms at his words, not expecting him to say that. The warmth pooling in your stomach intensifies, your heart fluttering in your chest. You’re not sure what happened during his assignment, what caused such a drastic change. You want to know what went through his head, what he was thinking about. Did he picture you at night when he got a moment to rest? Was he imagining you there with him, curled up against him? Or was he picturing you in other positions?

You might never know, just another secret hidden between you.

A shudder runs through him. You can see it, the slight twitch in his body, his hands closing into fists. He’s responding to you, to your scent. Such power you could hold over him if you were brave enough to try.

Such power he could hold over you, if he wanted to.

“You could come in.” You say, taking half a step back in invitation.

He doesn’t move, still frozen there like a statue. You wonder how he stays so still, but that was probably part of his training. Be as steady as possible while shooting, how to be invisible even in broad daylight. “You're sure?” He finally rumbles out, his foot shifting just a centimeter, but you catch it.

You shrug. “Why not? You are part of this pack. You could have entered sooner, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t have minded.”

He hesitates for just a second before moving his foot from the tile and into your room. He pauses there for a moment, watching you, waiting for a reaction. It’s your turn to stay still, staring up at him as he makes the slow transition into your room, venturing into your sacred space, a place he’s never been in before.

He moves the other foot, taking the first step over that line, pushing himself past that barrier, leaving it crumbling behind him.

There’s no going back.

Something shifts inside you as he enters your room, a weight you hadn’t even realized was there lifting off your shoulders. The hole in your chest is gone, the missing piece back in place. All the tumultuous emotions, all the stress and the fear and the anguish is gone. Your room is safe again, complete again with him in it. Tears prick at your eyes as relief floods through you. No one is getting in, no one can get in now, not with him here. You want to hug him, to kiss him again, drag him onto the bed and make him hold you for a while.

You don’t. You stay still as he takes in your space, his eyes scanning your belongings and your decorations. He’s never truly seen it in the light. The only time he’d stared into it was that morning when you thought maybe someone had broken in, when your fear had fucked with your emotions enough to think they’d truly let someone enter without their knowledge.

How silly that thought had been.

His eyes move to your bed, landing on the giant bear wearing his black shirt. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at it as well, suddenly thinking you should have removed the shirt, shoving it into your laundry and moving the bear back to your desk. Yet, you want him to see it, want him to see that you tried to comfort yourself in his absence, tried to make a placeholder for him. You won’t need it now, though. Not with the real thing standing in your space.

He shakes his head as he stares at it, rolling his eyes as he lets out a sigh. “Fucking hell.”

NEXT ->

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @protokosmonaut

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites

@kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos

@konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13

@anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry

@red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving

@slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01

@heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

@sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164

@mirzamsaiph @xlxnq @chickennn-soupp

#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

2K notes · View notes

barbieaemond · 1 year ago

Text

Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), handjob, we ride him bitches, dom/sub tones if you squint

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

Author's note: an early Christmas gift for those who celebrate!! For those who don't, just a regular smutty piece. This was based on a request where wife!reader rides Aemond. Merry Aemondmas :)

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee

"You are to marry the King's second son. Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Those were your father's words. Your sister had looked at you almost with pity and a hint of relief since that fate had befallen you and not her. You had simply nodded, accepting the fate decided by your father, just as thousands of other daughters before and after you would have done.

Your mother had come to comb your hair before going to bed, and without much ado, she had told you what would happen after the wedding, after the banquet.

"All you have to do is try to relax your nerves, and I promise it will be less painful.”

The thought had stuck in your brain until the wedding day. And the aura emanating from the prince didn't help. He was stoic to the point of looking like a statue, his posture rigid as a spindle, and there was something unsettling about him that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he took your hand to recite the wedding vows. Fear, but also a foreign giddiness prickling your skin upon feeling his calloused fingers around yours.

The banquet had not helped either. Prince Aegon had behaved like a court jester, drinking to the point of wondering how he could stand upright, poking his brother with cruel jokes about his eye and a whore who had made Aemond a man many years before.

You didn’t know what kind of unpleasant memories your good-brother had just summoned in his brother’s mind. That woman and her cheap perfume, that way it had clung to his skin, to his thoughts for days after his only ever trip to Flea Bottom.

Then the elder Prince had approached you with his breath stinking of Dornish and it was then that Prince Aemond broke his icy silence, standing up abruptly and looking down at you. "Come, wife. It is time for us to retire."

Prince Aegon had clapped his hands as if in front of a hilarious show, saying "Finally some fun! The bedding!"

The entire crowd present at the banquet had escorted you to the prince's chambers. The servants had removed your dress, leaving you in your underskirts; you had unconsciously covered your chest, crossing your arms to hide from the greedy eyes of the men peering in the doorway, Prince Aegon in the front row with yet another cup of wine clutched between his fingers.

Master Mellos invited you to lie down on the bed, and you obeyed, swallowing, while a host of servants shielded you from view as the Maester made his humiliating inspection.

"All is in order, your Graces," the Master informed the Prince and Queen. And that was enough for Aemond to completely slip the iron mask off his face and go straight to the door. "The show is over. Get out."

"Oh, come on, little brother. Let me watch, at least. I could give you some tips."

Aemond had towered over his brother, and from your seat on the bed, you were able to see the eldest brother shrinking by the moment. "This is not some common whore you're speaking of.” Aemond seethed “She is my wife, and you will owe her the respect she deserves. One more lewd word from your mouth, and I will rip your tongue with my bare hands. Am I being clear?”

"Gods, brother, are you already so cunt-struck?"

He never got an answer, only the door being slammed right into his face.

You stood in the middle of the room, torturing your hands as he looked at you from the door. He seemed unsure of what to do, until he cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps in the room.

“You could have some wine, if you wish. It may…help you.” He said, but as he said this, he seemed to regret his own words, given how his mouth twitched as if he had just tasted something sour. Memories could come just like that, sudden and sour.

“You must relax, my prince. Have some wine, maybe? No need to worry, I will take care of you just as a prince deserves to.”

“I’d like to keep my mind clear, my Prince.” You said, keeping your gaze down, hearing his fast and deep sigh. “Fine.” he said, straightening his back as a soldier. After all, wasn’t this just another duty?

It wasn’t just that though. You were his wife now, the future mother of his children. It was his duty and his right to claim you as his own.

“Lay on the bed.”

With your heart pounding in your ears, you did as you were told but when the mattress dipped under his weight, you did not expect to see him with his clothes still on, the eyepatch firmly in its place. More so, you did not expect the harshness of his gestures as he held your waist to turn you around. The air hitched in your throat as your face met the mattress and a strange sorrow gripped your heart. Did he not want to look at you? Did he not like you?

“Try to stay still and it’ll be over shortly.” he said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but his voice came out cold and flat. His fingers latched on your underskirts, hiking them up, filling you with embarrassment as you grow completely exposed beneath him.

Aemond knew what to do. He may not have been as depraved as his brother, but he was still a man. And once in a while, when his hands would not suffice, some maid or servant girl would’ve had to bear, quite keenly on their part, his intimate attentions.

As his hands began to glide on your thighs, you shivered and said “Wait…”

Slowly your head turned to look at him, cheeks red and breath slow and anxious. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Your words seemed to stun him for a moment. The mere thought of you wanting to look at him made him realize how wrong he was behaving. You were his wife, not a common whore to bend over and have his moment of bliss. He had even told Aegon. That was not his intention, but there was a gap between how he felt and how he acted, a limb severed by years of pity looks and feelings trapped in his mouth and swallowed.

Almost gently, he made you turn but once you were facing him, he pinned your wrists on the mattress, unable to touch him even if you had gathered enough courage to do it. You tried to brace yourself for what your mother had told you. But she had not told you that he would touch you there, that all your senses would go numb except for that one brand new feeling between your legs. But he seemed enthralled by it just as you, his mouth parting to let out slow puffs of air as you grow wet and swollen against his fingers.

Your breath was labored, coming out in soft pants that made your cheeks purple. More so because he kept circling his deft fingers on your core while looking straight into your eyes, reveling in the way you were answering to his call, in the way he was shaping your need, your desire.

“You never touched yourself, did you?” he asked in a husky voice.

You barely shook your head and his eye glinted with something dark as he brought his face close to yours “Good. I shall be the only one inside you.”

He swallowed your shaky breath with this mouth, kissing you for the very first time, apart from the shy, almost prude peck exchanged after the wedding vows. Your lips moved shyly, trembling with the coiling pressure between your legs. And just when you thought this heat, this delicious aching couldn’t grow more unbearable, he sticked a finger inside you, spilling a loud moan right against his mouth.

One of your wrists twisted in his harsh hold, willing to touch him, to grip on something, but he didn’t let you. “Easy…” he blew on your lips “Relax. It’ll feel good, I promise…”

It surely felt good to him, to feel the tightness of your cunt squeezing his finger. He curled it and you squinted your eyes, choking a gasp that made him smirk proudly against your jaw. “Gods, you’re so tight…” he breathed as he kept rubbing slowly against your walls.

“It’s—it’s too much—“ you cried out with pain and pleasure running together, breathing his scent of ash, leather and a hint of something minty.

“How will you take my cock if you can’t even take my finger?” He whispered with benevolent cruelty, moving his finger faster and deeper.

Certainly your mother had not told you of the obscene wet sounds you would hear, of the uncontrollable moans coming out of your mouth, of his soft growling next to your ear when his breeches became too tight.

He had lined the tip of his hard manhood to your entrance, catching your breath away as tried to still your nerves, but the pain came altogether. You felt like he was cutting you from the inside. Tears filled your eyes, squinting for the painful stretching. You knew he was restraining himself; he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already was. And you almost felt affection for him, most men would not have bothered.

Then he had started to move, you felt that stranger body rubbing over and over against your walls, and finally the pain soothed, but not completely. You could tell he was enjoying it, his ragged breath and faint moans told you so, as well as the curses hissed through his teeth in a language you guessed was Valyrian. And then he had stilled completely, gripping your hips hard and firm while you felt a hot wave pulsing through your core.

The next morning, you could barely sit down for breakfast, and your aunt had looked at you with concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She was a veteran at court, a long-time widow, and quite happy to be so. It was her who suggested your betrothal to the Prince.

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

"Awful." you said promptly, shifting your weight on the seat.

"Well, this is the kind of anguish all women must go through."

"I thought that was giving birth to another human being."

"Oh Gods, no. That is the ugly part. This is the good one," she said with a sly smile "I suggest you enjoy it as much as you can."

At the time, you didn't really understand what she meant. The first night with the prince had gone...well, you thought. But he certainly enjoyed it more than you.

The second time was better. Your muscles were still sore, but the pain was but a faint discomfort compared to the pleasure you felt for the very first time in your life.

The third time he went down on you, bringing you so close to the edge only to deny your release, with cruel enjoyment on his part, making you whine with shame at the loss of his mouth and tongue on your folds.

The fourth time he bent you down on the breakfast table, all things falling in a mess of cutlery. He had pulled up your skirts and lowered his breeches just enough to thrust in, unraveling a special spot deep inside of you that had you mewling like some primitive beast.

The fifth time he had you writhing in bed, hair stuck to your head with sweat and hands clenching the sheets while he had you peak three times in a row.

It was then that you started to think your aunt was right.

That was indeed the good part.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, with a soft taunt on the tip of his tongue. You drag your eyes away from the gigantic beast before you and almost scoff. That is enough for him to laugh, quietly, but still not quietly enough for you to not notice and wonder at the view.

It’s been merely one moon since you’ve been married to Prince Aemond, and you could count on the fingers of your hand the times you have seen him laugh. It was eerie at first, you feared all the things you heard about the One Eyed Prince were true. That he was cold as stone and just as hard. And he was. But the more you spent time together, the more you were able to make cracks, and let light through.

“I’m equally afraid as any little mortal of right mind would be in front of the largest dragon in the known world, my dear husband.”

His lips stay quirked up, but his eye widens, as it always does when you call him that. He steps close to you, a few of his long strides are enough for him to tower over you, and the ground below your feet shifts.

“Come.” He says, taking your hand, “I promise she won’t eat you.” This time you deliberately glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need some other kind of persuasion to trust me? Perhaps like the one I used this morning?”

The early afternoon sun makes his face almost hurting to watch, or maybe it's just his bold gloating that makes his appearance so exhausting.

“That was not persuasion.” you remark, hiding the tinge of red on your cheeks “It was coercion.”

“Hmm. You didn’t seem so hostile when I made you come twice before breakfast.”

"I was hostile to the chance of the maid assisting with what we were doing."

"The maid should know better than to enter while my wife is undressing."

His eye roams over you just as he had done that morning, hunger clouding it, making your insides shrink. "Perhaps it's best if she knew. Someone must be aware of how cruel my husband is." there's a soft tease in your tone—something you are still learning, but true nonetheless.

He had ripped your nightgown with his bare hands when the maid entered to help you dress. She fled hastily, but you barely spared a glance at her, already lost to the fierce claim of his hand between your legs. He had taken you, twice, and then ordered you to dress, forcing you to have breakfast with the Queen and the Princess with your thighs still sticky with sex, sticky with him.

And he had been there, sitting just in front of you, with a piercing and delighted gaze.

He pulls your hand, and you follow, getting closer to that living relic that is Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons. She raises her monstrous head and looks straight at you with her amber eyes.

It is the first time you step so close to her, and even if you thought about it a lot, your heart is pounding fast, and your breath comes out slow and labored. She's a dreadful wonder.

She flares her nostrils and smells you, making a low rumble which results in a gust of hot wind that ruffles your hair and skirts.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond says quietly “Issa ñuha ābrazȳrys. Kostā pāsagon zirȳla.”

You look at him questioningly, and he answers. “I told her you are my wife. And she can trust you.”

You cast a curious look at the dragon and then back at him “Is that all it takes? You tell dragons to trust you, and they resist the urge to turn you into their meal?”

Aemond curves his lips and makes you step closer, standing behind you and guiding your hand on the old green scales. “It takes much more than that.” he whispers in your ear “You have to surrender to them, completely. A dragon is no slave.”

You feel the heat beneath your palm, but it’s not that that makes you swallow; it’s the heat of his breath on your neck, right into your ear, scorching his way into your brain and inflaming every thought.

“What does Lykirī mean?” you ask, and you hate how your voice cracks on the edges.

He smirks because he knows, he always does. But he does not answer. Instead, he pulls your hand again, and you follow, circling the beast until stopping before the intricate ropes that lead to the saddle.

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

“You are my wife and you will ride with me on dragon back.” He said, commanding.

Truthfully, you gladly want to obey; there is just a slight difference between picturing riding a dragon and doing it.

Even the climbing to get in the saddle is a challenge on its own, but he helps you until you firmly seat yourself in it. Aemond sits behind you, and you look around with widened eyes, as if you are looking down from the highest tower ever built, except this is a living one, made of fire and breathing fire.

He leans over you to grab the reins, and you tense, waiting with bathed breath.

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

She lets out a loud screech that makes your ears hurt, but you have no time to even register it because she's already moving. You grip Aemond’s arms and brace yourself against his chest when Vhagar lurches onward and opens her huge wings to take flight.

She goes up and up, above the clouds, and your head is dizzy, with fear, with euphoria, until you are laughing like a child, like you never did in your entire life. Aemond lets go of the reins and laces his arms around you, angling his head to look at you, his silver hair violently ruffled by the wind. “How does it feel, my sweet wife?”

There are no common words to describe it. Now you know why they say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. No man could claim a dragon or rule the skies.

“I feel like I’m close to the Gods.” you say, and he tightens the hold on you “Dragons do not answer to Gods.” he says, burying his nose in your hair “Where does this leave us?”

You turn your head to look at him, and you feel like you are looking at one of them. And yet he looks like he’s beyond any God.

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

“Hmm.” He croons, breathing your scent through his nose, and then his right hand grabs your skirt and dips underneath, until you feel his cold fingers grazing your skin. “I will make you feel like one.”

He cups your core through your small clothes, and you whimper, gripping his arm harder. He feels your heat through his palm, hotter than Vhagar’s own fire, and he sets the fabric aside to properly touch you. “My sweet wife.” he whispers, sliding a finger between your folds “Always so ready for me.”

“Aemond.” You say, holding your breath, trying to oppose but your voice cracks, and your body with it, already answering to his call. You see clouds before your eyes, but it’s all a blur, all your senses are enslaved by his touch, rubbing lazy circles on your bud. Too slow for your liking, for your need. Your hips arch and buck, chasing his hand for more friction, and he laughs, darkly. “What is it? What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me.”

He takes your chin with his free hand and forces you to turn your head and look at him. His hold is ruthless, but his tone is almost pleading. “Tell me.” he orders and you feel like he’s smothering you, sweeping away all the air from your lungs. “I-I need more…”

“More of what?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Show me.”

You look him in the eye and swallow, heat inflaming your cheeks, but there’s no place for shame, not here. It is just a faint ghost passing through you, and then it’s gone. Your hand pulls the gown up, and you place it on his, like a feather. “Here.” You breathe on his mouth “Inside.”

The howling wind does nothing to muffle his growl, and then he’s kissing you, harshly, teeth clashing and biting your lips as he accepts your plea, sliding a finger inside of you.

A strangled moan escapes you, and he swallows it, darting his tongue in every corner of your mouth. He releases your chin only to grab your leg to further open them and then he adds a second finger, moving them deftly until reaching that special spot. Your head falls back on his shoulder, gasping loudly, digging your nails into his hand.

Your breath is ragged and fast, and you uselessly try to stifle moan after moan even if there are only the skies to hear.

“Don’t.” he says grazing your lobe with his teeth “I want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.”

Your mind goes blank, as does all your restraint. You feel the tide coming to crash you, hips moving on their own accord, chasing and chasing. And then you’re drowning in it, mouth falling open and flesh and bones clenching and trembling.

He grunts softly when your nails scratch his skin and his fingers slip out, glistening; he raises them to his lips and tastes every drop of you. Still panting, he takes your chin once more with his sticky fingers and licks your lips, so you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your head is still dizzy when Vhagar lands in a clearing in the King’s Wood, but this has nothing to do with altitude. Your limbs are heavy when he helps you dismount, your legs buckle. There is a tautness knotting your bones, itching your fingertips.

You wish to touch him, because you have never, not as a wife would touch her husband, not as he has done with you.

It is only a moon and yet he has taken you almost every night and every day. He has touched you everywhere, he has molded you to his liking, and you let him do it with giddiness, undoing yourself like clay in his hands. He had put his mouth on you, and you have discovered he particularly enjoyed it, because he has done that at the most inopportune times, even in some dark corner of the corridors.

And you wondered if you could do the same with him—not because you have to, but because you want to. You want to claim him just as he claims you, relentlessly.

And he really is. He is relentless, he doesn't give you the time to wander with your hands, to discover, to touch. Fire burns him quickly and you are ashes before you realise you are burning with him.

“I didn’t know my wife had claws.” He says at one point, while you are going back to the Keep.

You wake from your thoughts and turn, watching him raise his hand to show the red marks on the back of his hand, and the sight makes you almost proud—proud to have left a mark of you on him. But you want more, and he wants more. You know it; it takes a brief look at his breeches to know that he wants more.

You dart your eyes around, but there's no one. So, you stop. Trying to gather all the boldness you never had, you step closer to him and take his hand in yours. Your eyes look up slowly, glinting with uncertainty and bravery. "Then let me soothe your pain, husband."

Aemond’s eye widens, and the air around you turn heavy, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. You take one more step and bring the back of his hand to your lips, kissing it gently while your eyes stay fixed on his face. The other hand goes tentatively to his chest and then slides down, and for once, just once, he’s the one answering your call. His eye darkens and his lips part when your hands bashfully grab the laces of his breeches.

But you should have known better. Targaryens and their desires. Doomed to take whatever they want, whenever they want, answering neither Gods nor men.

You barely blink and he grabs you by the wrists and forces you to the ground. Cold grass and bushes stinging your back make you gasp, but Aemond is already on you, watching you like a century-long thirsted man who takes a glimpse of a water spring, as if you could evaporate from his sight at any moment.

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

But his tongue is in your mouth, hot and scorching you alive. Your eyes flutter shut, and he hikes your skirts up, taking hold of your hips. You feel his bulge against you, hard and ready, and you can do nothing else than wait, pinned down like prey, all bravery a distant memory.

Suddenly he lowers himself down, lifting your skirts with haste until you’re completely bare half down. “No—Aemond, please I want to—”

“You want what?” he asks with a wolfish grin “Deny me your sweet taste? Iksā ñuhon, ābrazȳrys.” He said that already, you know what it means. You are mine.

“You belong to me. And this…” he swears placing your legs on his shoulders while looking at your aching core as a man who found the greatest treasure in the world. “This belongs to me as well.”

He runs his tongue up and down your wet folds, humming with delight as he tastes you and sees you squirm, arching your back on the stingy bushes. You moan loudly when he slowly swirls his tongue, not able to keep track of your hips starting to move on their own, thrusting into his mouth and the sight of you like this, makes him even wilder, pushing him to open his mouth and put it entirely on your cunt, sucking harshly until anything before your eyes becomes blurred.

Your legs on his shoulders begin to shake and curl, caging him further against you, but just when you are about to come straight into his mouth, he pulls back. A weak sob leaves your mouth as your hips keep bucking against nothing and he smirks at that, untangling your legs from his shoulders, running his tongue over his lips, to taste what's left of you on him. You look at him through dazed eyes and a tinge of annoyance for the denied release. “What?” he has the boldness to ask with a sly smirk “Did you not enjoy it?” he runs his thumb on his glistening chin and swiftly licks it. "Hmm. I most certainly did."

“Aemond, please.” you claw desperately at his shoulders and forearms, forcing him to lie on you, feel something that could soothe the aching between your legs. He seems keen to grant you this mercy, molding his crotch against you so you can feel how hard and desperate he is.

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

“Speak it plainly, my love. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

You look at him straight in the eye and what you say next is not a request nor a plea. Your mother would be ashamed of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You are not begging. You are demanding. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need more than a few moments to get his cock out of his breeches, and not a moment later he’s pushing inside of you, your back arching on the bushes and your throat fighting for breath. He groans and starts a relentless pace, lifting his weight from you just enough for him to look at his cock going in and out, the sight only pushing him to thrust harder and harder. “Look at you.” he croons, sweet and rough “You were born to take me, to be mine.”

Your face twists with pleasure, teeth biting your lower lip while he takes you higher and higher, higher than any sky a dragon could ever take you.

He soon becomes messy and sloppy, cursing under his breath, but you can barely hear him. Your mind is sluggish and everything comes muffled: him, the birds chirping on some tree, your wet flesh slapping against his in the lewdest and most blessed way.

He curses some more, and then he’s spilling inside you, his arched mouth opening and his eye closing like a man absolved.

And yet, he does not stop. He has not claimed enough.

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

Your hand clutches something on the ground, something with thorns that pierces your skin with pain, but you can’t even feel that, because you are falling, legs trembling around him, and heart stopping for an endless moment of pure breathtaking bliss.

“Gevie.” he coos with his lips on yours, falling with his body on you, still clenching and pulsing around him. He stays right where he is, nesting inside of you, and now it is the only chance you have been granted to touch him. You put an arm around his shoulders, catching your breath, and look at the skies above, thinking you are indeed above them.

It was easy to explain the dirt and grass stains on your dress. It was a little less easy to explain the twigs in your ruffled hair when you and Aemond returned to the Keep only to meet the Queen Mother along one of the corridors. Alicent merely smiled at you with a tight smile and did not spare from giving a look full of daggers to her son.

"Seven Hells" you mutter when you go back to your rooms and catch a glimpse of the mess you are in the mirror.

Aemond stays on the threshold to close the door and grins, or rather, gloats.

You step out of your muddy shoes and start to pull the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and you playfully glare at him. "Am I allowed to take a bath now? Or do you want me to go around all sullied? I fear there are no believable excuses for the state I’m in."

"You can tell them the truth." he says, walking to you and replacing your hands with his to help you pull the intricate laces.

You smile softly with your back turned before raising an eyebrow, asking "Which is?"

He keeps his eye focused on the dress, a slight furrow in his brow, and stoically serious, he says "That your husband fucked you in the King's Wood."

"I could tell the maid. I'm sure she won't be stunned after what she saw this morning."

He makes you turn so you can look at him, and the sight before you makes your heart sing. His eye roams on your face softly, a rare sight on him, always stoic, always sharp, like all the angles composing this beautiful sculpture of black glass.

You always thought of marriage as a strategic deal for men, and a way for women to prove their value to the world, giving those same men sons and daughters. But you care for him. And he cares for you. That look on his face is enough for you to know that he cares for you, not merely as a brood mare.

“Gevie.” he says, quietly, and he touches your cheek, softly, making you wonder how those same hands can be so delicate and yet so merciless at the same time.

“What does it mean?” you ask, even if you are sure he will not answer. You observed that when he speaks in High Valyrian he does it almost to himself, as if to protect something he does not wish the others to know.

But this time, he meets your eyes and lowers his hand. “Beautiful.”

You look at him with your heart pounding in your throat, and then you stand up on your toes, crashing your mouth against his, almost catching him by surprise. But he is all too deft at turning the game on his side, and a few seconds later, his hands are gripping your hips and his tongue is licking the roof of your mouth.

When the door suddenly opens, you pull back, spotting the same maid from that morning who, this time, can do nothing but suffer the Prince's wrath.

"Can't you just fuck off for once?!"

You hold back a laugh against his chest and the poor maid flees in a hurry. But when he pulls you to him, tilting his head to pick up where he left off, you step back and say, "I'm afraid the Queen has requested your presence. You should go, my dear husband. I promise that by tonight I will be completely clean."

"Tonight?" he asks, raising his eyebrow. "What is happening tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders and hold back a smile. "Innocence doesn't suit you, my Prince."

"Neither does you."

"I'm afraid this is your fault. You are sullying my soul as well as...everything else."

"You won't be of the same mind when you have my child growing in your womb," and he smirks, looking at you as if he's taking a sacred oath, and then walks away.

You finally manage to take a bath and change clothes, and then you go to visit your aunt. She spends most of her time alone, sipping tea in the gardens, partly because she can't stand the other court ladies, partly because the court ladies can't stand her. Truthfully, you cannot blame them, your aunt speaks plainly—too plainly at times.

You sit down with her for tea, which you end up swallowing like salt, because your aunt takes it with a whole squeezed lemon, and no sugar.

"I saw you with your husband earlier. I may be too old for new fashion but mud on your skirt and twigs in your hair seem a bit too brazen, even for me."

You stifle a smile, recalling what happened. If only she knew he was brazen enough to have you utterly undone on dragon back, thousands of feet up.

Your eyes go distant while you fumble with some tablecloth threads, but your Aunt stares at you piercely, and grabbing her cup of tea she says "I love that look on you."

"What?"

She sips the sour liquid and puts the cup down. "That look. The I'm in love look."

"I am not!" you counter, cheeks going red.

"Of course you are. I've watched you two. I dare say he's falling way faster than you."

You look at her puzzled. Many things have changed in a moon. And you are sure you are utterly infatuated with him. But you did not know what to think of what he actually feels for you, if he even feels something. You know he cares for you, you know he loves spending time with you. You know he's passionate, possessive, almost soft at rare times. But in love? That seems too soon to consider, or to hope for.

"It is too soon to talk about love."

"In fact, I did not, my sweet niece. Falling in love and love are beasts of different species. Why do you think we say "falling"? You can't stop from falling. To love a person is an entirely different matter. Love is a choice."

You let those words sink but you prefer not to question your heart right now. There is a reason you have come here to talk to your aunt, even if you don't know how to address the matter without melting from embarrassment.

But in the end, who could you ask for advice? Your squeamish maids? The Queen Mother? Definitely not.

"Listen, I...I wanted to ask you something..." you start "It is uhm...a matter of somewhat intimate nature."

"Ah, my favourites." your aunt says, beaming "I am all ears."

You shift uncomfortably in your chair and swallow another sip of that dreadful tea "My mother...she explained to me what would happen between husband and wife to...consummate the marriage. But she didn't tell me...well, everything else."

Your Aunt is quick to raise her eyebrow "I gathered that your marriage had been consummated by now. Thoroughly."

"Y-yes, of course. But I...discovered...that there are other ways for a husband to please his wife...and I was wondering if...if I could…do those same things to please him."

Your aunt looks utterly puzzled for a long moment, and then, almost stunned, she says "Oh Seven Hells, child. You are telling me you never sucked your husband off?"

A few court ladies walking near turned their heads, going white as sheets, while you, on the contrary, take a nice purple shade.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, prissies. We all did it eventually." she dismisses them, waving a lazy hand, and looks back at you. "You should do it, if you wish. Men love it. Your uncle used to ask—"

"I don't want to hear that, auntie, I'm begging you." you say squinting your eyes.

"Listen to me, child. Men love to think they rule everything, everywhere. But it is not always like that. And if you want to rule your husband's heart, you must rule in his bed first."

That evening, Aemond wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room with his wife and forget all the hateful political talk he had had to endure at dinner.

You had not attended, and that had bothered him. Never would he have thought of marriage as anything more than a duty, yet there he was, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you weren't in his rooms when he set foot in there.

"Where is my wife?" he asks the maid, and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor, saying "The princess spent the evening in the library, your Grace. She told me that she would be—"

"I am here," you say, appearing behind the young maid.

You see his chest sag as if a weight is leaving him, and he casts an icy glance at the poor maid "Out."

He is rarely kind to servants, but you can tell by his tense shoulders that something is wrong.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" you ask as soon as the door closes, walking up to him with a hand behind your back.

"Where were you? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

He grabs your arm, gripping hour wrist harshly, and you flinch. "Aemond, I swear to you.” you say watching his eye on fire and a sneer twisting his mouth “You can ask Maester Mellos."

Suddenly he lets you go, and looks down, closing his eye for a moment. But he doesn't apologize, he never does, and not because he is a Prince. It's just the way he is. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say thank you, he doesn't say please.

"Aemond, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. In fact, never. Not here."

You watch him carefully, and you nod as he moves to pour wine into a cup. You watch him gobble it up greedily, which is unlike him. So, you get close and move your hand from behind your back and say, "Anyway, I wasn't lying. I really spent four hours in the library...trying to decipher this."

You show him an old book, and the title catches his eye, cup held in midair. "Tales of the Dragonlords?" he asks frowning. "This is in High Valyrian."

"It is." you confirm as you move closer, and you steal his cup before saying, "Would you read it to me?" and you take a sip, of wine and courage.

He watches the liquid flow down your throat and then accepts the invitation, taking the book—the one he has read so many times he can recite it by heart. He opens it to the first page, but you say "No. Page 72."

There is a slight imperative tone in your tone of voice, and it thrills him, given how his eye glints under the candlelight. He drops it on the table, looking at you from head to toe, and says, "I'll read it to you later, sweet wife."

He steps closer but you back away saying, "Fine, then. I'll tell you what I understood so you can correct me or not." and at the same moment your own hands go up on your corset and you start pulling on the laces.

The gesture catches his eye like a moth to a flame and he stays silent as you pull all the laces and then slip off your dress, remaining in your underskirt. His gaze roams over you slowly, and with a soft smirk, he decides to play the game.

“Page 72, you said. How Dragonlords claimed Dragons.”

“Yes.”

"And why did it capture your interest? Do you wish to do it? Do you wish to claim a dragon?"

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

He comes closer and looks at you, breathing through his nose, restraining, always restraining, and then he's raising his hand to reach a lock of your hair falling on your shoulder, but you stop him, air as heavy as moss.

"The Valyrian sages say a dragonlord must surrender himself completely to the dragon. But it works both ways. The dragon must submit his will to their rider."

He looks at you without blinking, and you take his arms, guiding him closer until you turn and push him lightly on the bed. He sits and you slowly climb on his lap, knees caging his hips, heart is pounding in your throat like a hammer. You hear him taking a swift breath and pride pools in your bones because for once you have caught him off guard.

You can feel his crotch hardening by the moment, but the look on his face is not one of hunger or lust. It is pure and blessed devotion.

You wonder at the view, and your eyes roam on his face until...

"Can I take it off?"

There's no need to say what. His face goes hard as stone, eye looking away with discomfort, with shame.

"Please, Aemond." you whisper. "I want to see all of you. I want you to bare yourself to me as I did to you."

"It is not pleasant."

"I don't want pleasantness. I want you."

He stares at you for an eternal moment and then he caves.

A flash of sparkling blue catches you completely and you can do nothing but watch with lips parted, while he keeps his eye down.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head against his to breathe one single word in his ear. "Gevie."

His arms are all around you, holding you so tight you might gasp for air. Instead you are smiling, breathing through his long silver hair. You are not sure if you aunt is right, if love is indeed a choice. You can't bring yourself to care because you are doing it already.

And then he's kissing you, seizing your tongue with his in a fierce consuming way. He slightly hikes up your hips, and his hand tries to slide between your legs, but you lace your fingers around his wrist, breaking the kiss with panted breath.

"No." you whisper, and he looks at you almost questioningly, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Lykirī."

His eye widens and you smile, secretly. "I know what it means now."

He smirks at this and does not miss the chance to be the ever diligent scholar. "But you said it wrong. The R is hard."

“Lykirī.” You say again, following his lesson, and in the same moment your hand leaves his wrist and goes down to his breeches. He dips his chin to look at it, at your hands unsure, and he too looks unsure.

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.” You say, and your voice comes out firm and clear. “Please, Aemond. Let me…let me touch you.”

He realizes now that in all the times you have been lying together, you never managed to lay a hand on him. He likes to keep people at distance. Too many wrong hands have been on him. The Maesters’, inspecting, debating, healing without healing. That whore, taking what it was not hers to take, not yet.

But he wants you to touch him. He has dreamed of it, in any way a man could dream of a woman’s touch.

He looks at you for a moment, chest rising slowly, and then, without taking his eye off you, he pulls the laces of his breeches and guides your hand around his cock. You look down, exhaling a long breath at feeling his hard and hot flesh already pulsing.

He knows you don’t know how to do it, so his hands guide you at first, going slowly up and down, and the air comes out of his mouth slowly and labored. You look up at him, his eye is pitch black, lid growing heavy with pleasure, and your core clenches, desire pools in your belly and flows down.

He must hear the call of your body, because he releases your hand, still stroking him, and goes right between your legs. You gasp loudly, and he hums, delight dripping from his voice just as you are dripping on his fingers. He starts to pump his fingers and you can do nothing but moan, clutching his shoulders with your free hand, the other still around his cock, but the act is growing lazy, your mind can’t focus properly on what you are supposed to do.

“Listen.” he orders you, fingers moving faster and faster, and you do listen. Your soaked flesh coming undone at his scorching touch. “Who else has you like this?”

But this is a question he’s asking himself. Because no one else will ever have him bare like this.

“You. Just you.” you say hoarsely, eyes closing and hips rocking on their own accord.

“And who am I?” he whispers just as hoarsely, and yet his voice is like a whip on all your senses.

“My husband.” you cry, feeling the wave ready to drown you “Ñuha zaldrīzes.” My dragon.

You cannot care less about how you said it, because then your mouth falls open, nails digging into his shoulder while your trembling hips keep riding his fingers, clenching them like a vice.

Your head falls onward, leaning against his forehead, and you try to catch your breath. You watch his wet fingers go straight into his mouth while he looks at you, humming with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.” he says with the ghost of a smile on his lips “I should fuck you in Throne Room with the whole court watching, so they know how pretty you are when you come for me.”

You laugh with your cheeks flushing, and he slides an arm around you, and you know he wants to pin you down on the bed and fuck you until you are muffling nonsense in the pillow. But this is not his game. This is yours, and even if you don’t know how to play, you will win.

“No.” you say, climbing down from his lap, and he looks at you with hunger and a tinge of thrilling curiosity. “It is my turn to claim.” You say with all the bravery you possess.

Not a moment later, you are going down on your knees.

Another small victory, because his eye widens as he had never done before, and you can see that this, the sight of you on your knees before him, is something he has been craving for, even dreamed of it.

His breathing is slow, and you are not even touching him.

You place yourself between his knees and you lean closer and closer, anxiety twisting your insides, but you want to do this. “Lykirī, nuha zaldrīzes. Surrender.” you take him into your hand, tugging slowly, and your lips linger on the tip, heart pounding in your ears and eyes fixed on him. “Lykirī.” You say one last time and then you are swallowing him.

He hisses loudly and his lips part, hands clutching the covers until his knuckles go white. He’s like burning metal inside your mouth—hot and hard. At first, you just taste him, running your tongue over the head, and he’s cursing under his breath. His hands twitch on the covers, restraining and restraining, but there’s no need. You take his hand while looking at him and you release it from your mouth to say “Teach me.”

It’s like you have just poured fire on more fire. His eye goes wild, he takes hold of your head and starts to guide you again, making your mouth engulf him once more and deep down to the base and then up to the tip again, filling the room with a wet gagging sound. You get the gist of what you’re supposed to do, so your head starts going up and down and up and down, and he actually moans for you, head falling back for just a moment before looking back, he can’t help but watch as you fiercely claim him.

You watch his chest heaving fast and your jaw is starting to hurt but you don't care, you are too absorbed by the view before you. You are too thrilled by the fact that, for once, you have made him speechless.

He's always so bold in the bedroom, so cruel in deciding when and how to give pleasure, and now he's utterly speechless. He can only curse without breath, and gasp and groan.

“Kelītīs.” he manages to say at one point, voice all husky and cracking. You don’t know that word, and you have no time to ask because in a blink, he’s slamming you onto the bed and he’s hiking up your skirt, but you get on your elbows pushing him on his back and climbing on him.

“I’m not done, valzȳrys.” you say feeling his hard length inflaming your core, so you lay your hips on it as firmly as possible. “I claimed, but I did not conquer.”

“You are fucking torturing me.” he points out, bucking against you.

“Conquests could last for centuries, dear husband. You above all should know that.”

“All I know now is that I need to fuck you.” he says placing both hands on the sheets to pull himself up.

“No, I will.” you promise, rocking your hips once more “This is my conquest, not yours.”

You keep rubbing your drenched core on his length until a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he's so hard he's leaking from the tip. "You are twisted, wife." he says with a dazed tone and you smile even if you can't take it anymore, but you rock some more, saying "I'm a quick study. And I'm learning from the best."

Finally, when you are so wet you are dripping on him, you raise just enough to slide his cock inside of you.

You gasp together and you brace on his shoulders to start moving. You both know you are not going to last long, so you start rocking your hips slowly, taking him to the hilt until you struggle for air.

“Move…” he orders but you just take the opposite road, slowing your hips in a delicious torturing way. “Do you know what else the Sages said? A rider must know their mount, feel their heat below them.”

But Aemond does not have a single drop of blood in his head right now to give you an answer, let alone play your game; he's just fire that burns and burns and burns and just like the Sages said, you can feel his heat, burning below and inside you. He grips your hips and starts to thrust inside you like the wild beast you are supposedly claiming, until you are moaning so loud your throat hurts.

“Yes—” he growls as you bounce on him “Just like that—you’re gripping me so well—fuck"

You both turn sloppy, a mess of sweaty limbs and teeth biting, clutching at each other with bruising grips, pulling at the roots of his hair when you’re about to fall from the highest sky.

"Come on, my sweet girl. Let go for me." he breathes into your mouth, forcing you to move even faster "Let go fro your dragon. Seal your conquest." And you do.

He follows right after, spilling inside while digging his teeth into your neck like fangs on a prey, muffling his loud groaning.

And you are smiling like a fool, a lovestruck fool, but most of all, a conqueror.

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞

#likiri #liv(in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond x wife reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x wife reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond fic #aemond smut #hotd fic

7K notes · View notes

bloodibambiidoll · 2 months ago

Text

What would happen if weird!girl was there during the scene with Hollis instead of Sophia?

(This is based off two asks I got. One about weird!girl finally clapping back & one about her being there during this scene. Also thank you for being so patient with me ik it’s been a while since I posted about them !!) Jealously/possessiveness, choking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, mentions of weird!girl & another man in the past, breeding kink 18+

You know it’s absolutely irrational to be as pissed off as you are right now. But watching Hollis bat her spider leg eyelashes and pucker her years full of filler smudged red lips at your fiancé while she leans over the table with her tits pushed out is making you want to rip her head off. At the beginning of you and Rafe’s relationship you probably would’ve ran in the bathroom and cried because you didn’t feel like you were right for him. You’re not that girl anymore. Rafe has given you so much confidence and security that now you’re walking toward them with a smug smile painted on your face. Everyone on the island knows you and Rafe are engaged and if she thinks you’re going to let her walk all over you like some scared little girl she can think the fuck again.

Your platform boots click against the stone floor as you march across the outdoor seating area with a purpose. Rafe’s scotch is clutched tightly in your ringed hand and the cold condensation on the glass is a welcome cool in comparison to the fire in your veins. Your tiny black dress whooshes as you walk, the slight breeze kicking it up just enough to almost show your ass that’s covered in Gucci fishnets. You’re sick and tired of everyone walking all over you. Men scoff at you and look down on Rafe for being with you. Women constantly flirt with him in front of you like you’re not even there and you’re at your limit. You slide your way under your fiancé’s arm and tuck yourself into his side before holding his drink to him.

“Here’s your drink, baby.” You look up at him with a devilish little smirk and he sends you one of those signature Rafe Cameron smirks right back. His eyes flash from your own to your lips to your tits before he grabs the glass from your hand and places a kiss on your temple.

“Aww, who’s this?” Hollis breaks you and Rafe out of your bubble, making you snap your head toward her with a look that could kill.

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff, and push past Rafe so you can get right up in her face. You paint a condescendingly sweet smile on your lips as your eyes roam over her form. It’s obvious her days as resident cougar are numbered, the build up of Botox is starting to make her face look puffy and that lipstick looks awful with her skin tone. She even has a little bit smeared on her teeth and you can tell she’s slightly tipsy.

“Not only have I lived on this island my entire fucking life, I used to fucking take care of your dogs when you and your husband - oops I mean, ex husband used to go on your little vacations.” You cup your hand onto the side of your cheek and lean in even closer to her so you can whisper-yell in her ear. “You know, before you cheated on him so much he couldn’t take it anymore. Such a waste really, he’s such a sweet, handsome man…”

“Excuse me?” Hollis quickly leans back and scoffs, her hand flying to her chest as if you hit her. Her eyes show a flash of hurt before hardening. “You really ought to learn some respect, young lady. I don’t think you realize what kind of pull I have around here. I could ruin you.” Her lips wear a sinister smile that you assume she thinks is threatening but it just makes you laugh.

“No, I think you need to learn some respect, actually.” You return her smile, but yours is far more sinister than anything she could ever muster up because the minute that Stanley Kubrick esc grin stretches across your lips the one on her own drops and she takes a step back. But you just take a step forward, staying inches away from her face while you tilt your head to the side. “Everyone on this goddamn island already can’t stand me. And they all know Rafe Cameron is mine. But only you and I know that Mr. Robison sought comfort in a young, tight, pussy when you first started stepping out on him.”

“You really are and always have been such a vile little girl.” She sneers down at you and you know you hit the exact nerve you were aiming for. “Jealousy really isn’t a cute look, by the way, dear.”

“It’s not jealousy. It’s possession.” Hollis has gradually been taking steps back from you as the conversation has gone on but you close the distance between the two of you so you can lean up and whisper directly in your ear. “Now get the fuck away from my man before I choke you so hard your eyes pop out of your skull.”

“Ugh! You are a psychotic little bitch!” Hollis stomps her red bottom heeled foot onto the ground with a low growl before turning and stomping off.

“Whose acting like a little girl now!” You yell after her with a laugh and it earns you a glare over her shoulder that you return with laughter. You’re still practically cracking up when you turn to face Rafe who is staring down at you like a deer caught in the headlights. “You good baby? Thought you’d be proud of me.” You pout and your boyfriend's expression hardens as he grabs your wrist and pulls your body flush against his own.

“Oh, bats. I’m proud of you for standing on business, but…” Rafe's large hand grabs onto the back of your neck as leans down so he can practically growl into your ear. “You have some serious fuckin’ explaining to do. Mr. Robinson, huh? You fuck him?”

“And if I did? That was literally years ago before you ever thought twice about me, I think you’ll live.” Your voice holds a hint of defiance that you know for a fact is going to get your ass handed to you very shortly but if you’re being honest, that’s exactly what you want. It’s been a minute since you got Rafe riled up enough to fuck you until you can’t walk.

“You are so fucked. Car. Now. Start walking.”

“Tell me whose fuckin’ pussy this is.” Rafe has you bent over the arm of your expensive leather couch while his cock pounds deep into your dripping walls and his large palm shoves your face into the cushion below you. He ripped your dress over your head and tore your brand new gucci tights open at the crotch the minute he got you through the door. Your ass is beat red and decorated with welts the shape of his designer belt, your drool is dripping down your chin and your vision is blurry from your mascara running down your eyes. He fucking loves you like this.

“It’s yours! My whole body belongs to you, daddy!” The attitude you had earlier on in the night is starting to slip and you’re getting to the point that all you want is to come on Rafe’s cock as many times as he will allow you to. And so far? He’s been edging you for the last forty minutes.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ right. You’re my little whore.” Rafe’s fingers lace through your hair, his nails scratching your scalp as he gathers the strands between his digits and pulls them tight so he can yank your head back. He uses his grip for leverage as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. “Don’t wanna think about any other man touching you. Especially not some old fuck. As far as I’m fuckin’ concerned you were a virgin when we met.”

“Well, I wasn’t even close… Does that make you mad, daddy?” You let out a borderline evil chuckle as you let your tongue lull from your mouth while you look over your shoulder at him. His blue eyes are practically black from how dilated his pupils are, his nostrils are flared, and his lips are set into a snarl. You can’t help it that you love him like this. “Does it just drive you crazy that you’re not the only dick that’s been in this tight little pussy?”

“Shut your bratty little mouth, did I not beat that ass hard enough yet, huh? Do I need to pull out and make you watch me jerk off while I nut all over your dumb little face and leave you with nothing but a mess to clean up?” Rafe’s nails dig deeper into your scalp when his grip on your hair tightens. He pulls your back flush against his chest while his hips plow into yours, his thick cock stretching you out over and over with each thrust.

“What about you, huh?” You lace your arm around Rafe’s neck so you can drag your pointed nails down his skin. “Resident man slut? This all started because you were letting that dumb old bag fawn all over you with her tits in your face.”

Rafe pulls out of you and uses your hips to flip you onto your back. Your legs are dangling over the arm of the couch and your top half is bent flat against the cushion, propping your hips up so your pussy is on display to him. He lands a smack on your sopping wet cunt that verberates through the room and you barely have time to process before he’s dealing you with another one. His broad frame looms over you when he leans down to grip onto your throat and pin you to the plush leather.

“I was just appeasing her cause’ she was offering me a way I could make us more money.” He hits your pussy again before landing harsh smacks on your clit in succession. Rafe’s palm cups your cunt and he uses the heel of it to rub your clit roughly while he squeezes your throat so tight you see stars. He toys with your entrance with his thick fingers and then spreads your juices on his shaft. He pumps himself a few times before slamming back inside of you in one thrust. “You really think I’d ever trade this perfect fuckin’ cunt for anything in the world? You think you can go around talking about fucking men old enough to be your dad in front of me and not expect me to mark my territory? I’m gonna cover you in my fuckin’ cum.”

“Sounds like somebody is jealous.” You lick your lips and smile widely up at him while the hand on your throat makes your vision go fuzzy. The sound that leaves Rafe is near animalistic, he grips onto your thigh with his free hand and pins it to the arm of the couch. It spreads you wide and gives him the perfect view of his thick cock covered in your creamy juices as it slams inside you over and over again.

“It’s not jealousy, it’s possession.” Rafe mocks your words from earlier, his hand nearly cutting off your air supply before letting go and grabbing onto the back of your hair. He uses his grip to yank you up off the cushion and force your head down until you can see where you’re connected. His thrusts never falter as he manhandles you like a ragdoll.

“You see that shit? See your greedy little pussy swallowing my dick like it was made for her? Tell daddy again who owns that shit. Drop the attitude and tell me you’re my fuckin’ whore if you wanna come.”

“I’m your whore! Please let me come!” You whine as you writhe beneath him, your final resolve leaving you when he grabs onto both your wrists, suspending your back off the couch as he uses his grip on you to pull you back to meet his rapid thrusts.

“Yeah, that’s right, you’re my perfect little fuck doll. Mine to use, as I please, when I please.” You wrap your legs around his hips to pull him impossibly deeper and it has him growling and twitching inside you. “You gonna be a good girl and take my fuckin’ cum? Let me put a baby in you so all these bitches really know who you belong to?”

“Yes, fuck! Please give me your cum, wanna make you a daddy!” Rafe lets your body fall back down onto the couch so he can lean over you with his hands on either side of your head as he pumps his hips deep and hard into you. The angle has him hitting deeper than ever and each glide of his hips has his skin rubbing against your throbbing clit.

“Come on my cock, milk that shit, baby.” It’s like your body is programmed to listen to his words because that’s all it takes to have your walls pulsing around him as you gush around his thick shaft. You lean up and bite his chest before sucking hard on his skin, marking your territory. A few more rough thrusts of his hips and Rafe is coming right along with you. “Such a good girl, such a perfect, tight, pussy. Gonna give you a fuckin’ baby.” He babbles as his cock twitches inside of you and fills you with ropes of his cum. When he comes down from his high his body slumps against yours, his huge frame pining you awkwardly to the couch.

“Fuck.” You giggle as you wrap your arms around his neck and run your nails along his buzzed head. “That was so hot. But, you’re crushing me with your giant fucking body.”

“Yeah? I think you deserve it. I don’t think that was punishment enough for fucking Mr. Robinson before we ever got together.” Rafe groans dramatically as he lets more of his weight crush you.

“Well. I think you’ll be delighted to know that I never fucked him.” You say it in a sing-song tone that has Rafe’s head shooting up and his blue eyes locking with yours. “We just sexted. She found the pics on his phone and lost her shit.”

“Oh! You are such a little shit!” He pushes himself up off the couch and points down at you in mock accusation. “You let me think you fucked him so I would beat your lil’ ass, didn’t you?” Rafe chuckles and your hand flies to your chest while you look up at him with your mouth agape.

“What?!” You gasp. “I would never push your buttons for sexual gain. That would be insane.”

“You are such a fuckin’ brat, ya know that?” Rafe smiles as he pulls you off the couch and against his chest. “I ought to bend you over again, over my knee this time.”

“What was all that about giving me a baby?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he glares down at you. “Was that just horny talk or does somebody have baby fever?”

“You know what?” He grabs you and tosses you over his shoulder despite your protests. “I’m gonna spank you till you cry and then fuck you full of my cum until you’re begging me to put a baby in you.”

Tagging mooties & weird!girl lovers: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @starkeysprincess @nemesyaaa @oceandriveab @munson-mjstan @cameronsprincess @rafeinterlude @sturnioloshacker @traceymbcm

Divider by @anitalenia

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

#weird!girl #weird!girl reader #dolly writes #rafe Cameron #Rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #rafe blurb #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron blurb #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks

542 notes · View notes

ajellybee · 1 month ago

Text

Tamed: Sukuna x Fem!Reader

⟢ CW!!: NSFW MDNI, 3.8k words, not proofread, excuse typos.. Freak frat boy Sukuna, virgin fem reader, college au, attempts of plot, no protection WRAP IT UP CHAT!!!, first time, cunnilingus, girl idk if thats all. You get the idea!! Virgin pussy so good you domesticated your whore of a best friend.

⟢🐝notes: this is my first time trying to do like, a full-fleshed fic so it might be a little rough…hope you enjoy tho!!!

The HC that this was based off of here!

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Hey, girl. You’re Sukuna’s friend right”. Not only has this girl been your lab partner all semester, but you guys also shared classes freshman year. You rolled your eyes because you know what’s coming next. Sukuna and you have been friends since junior year of high school. You got stuck with him for a project and you guys kind of just stuck. Sukuna also has a reputation for himself, being the class whore, even in high school, but since you guys started college it's gotten..so much worse. Even when he was a freshman the senior girls wanted a piece of him.

You on the other hand were not as familiar in his field of expertise. Sure there were boyfriends here and there but you never went ALL the way, they were too eager to get their dicks wet and didn't care anything about your pleasure, so the virginity is still intact!!

“Yes I know him, no he doesn’t want you, he’s with someone” It wasn't an entire lie. He was always down for a good fuck and he changes girls like clockwork, but he mentioned “scoring a hottie” earlier. The girl’s smile and friendly attitude towards you disappeared as if it was never there. Really it was annoying, dealing with your best friend’s shit. At this point, he needs to make announcements when he’s ready for the next girl.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“Sukuna I swear to every god out there, if one more girl approaches me trying to get in your pants, I'm killing you and them myself” He’s lying across your dorm bed scrolling through his phone. When he is not on his freak nasty agenda, he could be found in your room. You were able to score a single and he isn’t all too fond of his roommate. Seemingly not really listening to you he continues to scroll, causing you to kick his side. He thought it was funny, cute almost, how upset you got over this. It was the same argument every other week. He just wishes it came from a place of jealousy not inconvenience.

“Woman I have no control over that. Not my fault this dick makes them crazy” he smirks at you making you scoff.

“God you're disgusting...get off my covers you’re dirty” you playfully(kind of) try and kick him off the foot of your bed. He quickly grabs your feet and pins them under his body, not budging despite your attempts to pull them free.

“Don't be grouchy cuz you haven't gotten laid yet, brat”

“Girl you fuck enough for the both of us, and like five more people. I’m good, trust.” You put emphasis on the last bit as you finally tug your feet free. “freak…”

“Anyways, look this was the girl I was telling you about” He shows you an Instagram page on his phone. Sukuna looked for any flash of jealousy in your face, but you gave him nothing. You used to like him back in High school, but liking him hurt too much. With every new girl and every story he’d tell you of said girl ripped away at you. To protect yourself you buried that feeling way way WAY deep down and you're fine with your relationship as it is now. Now you were indifferent, it's his life. Whatever.

“Oh she’s pretty, how long is this one gonna last tho”

“Don't know. She’s fine as fuck so maybe two weeks?” Again, no reaction to his statement, at least not the one he wanted. Sukuna? oh sukuna wanted you bad, but you never showed interest, if anything it felt like the opposite, and he didn't want to mess up what he did have with you, so he never pushed.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

For the next couple of days you've been, unwillingly, thinking about sex. Blame ovulation or blame the overwhelming talk of sex in your friend group ever since your best friend lost her virginity. But you really saw no point in trying again, with how disappointing and unwilling all your past intimate (if you can even call it that) experiences have been. The talk you had with Gojo didn’t help either. You made a small comment and he poked and prodded until you spilled everything, even the part that you’ve been craving that experience.

“Well, you could ask Toji, You know that one senior. I heard he loves virgins!” That’s what the idiot told you, sure was a joke, but it could work. Toji, much like sukuna, has a reputation for being a campus whore, but his favorite go-to-girls, were virgins. He always boasted about all the V-cards he took, and how good he was at it, ruining them for their future partners. But what has also been running through your mind was what Shoko told you.

“It would be better if you had sex with someone you trust?”

“You’ve been friends with Sukuna for a long time, no? Why not him?” suguru added. You sat on that for a long time too. Sukuna was your best friend, and you do trust him. From the stories he’s told you himself you wouldn’t be left disappointed. The thing is, Sukuna never showed interest in you, strictly platonic. Sure he never gave up the chance of a good fuck, but with you being a virgin or him not seeing you in that light because of your friendship, the “what ifs” drove you insane, but after much deliberation, you came up with a conclusion, and hey, the worst he could do is say no. You got to your dorm and built up the courage to call him.

“Oh?? I thought you were avoiding me. You miss me now?” you could hear the annoying smirk on his face.

“You know what never mind” you were ready to hang up, deciding on plan B, but as you pulled your phone away he interrupted.

“Okay okay, what's up?” Sukuna always dropped whatever he was doing for you, even if that meant not hooking up with the girl he was telling you about. He quickly pushed her out ignoring all her protests and angry huffs. Maybe you saved him cuz her whining was pissing him off.

“Can you come over?” Your face burned knowing what you were going to ask once he got there. You were determined to get it over with, and you had a plan B if he said no. no biggy no biggy… you just need to ask your best friend to fuck you.

Sukuna arrived at your door quicker than you expected (he was already on his way to your dorm before you even asked him to go over). Opening the door, you let him in and he immediately got comfortable sitting on the edge of your bed.

“Okay, so what's up?” He’s pretending to be normal about it. But with the way you sounded over the phone he was thinking a million things and expecting nothing at the same time, but what you would say next will stop his heart.

“Let me speak, no interruptions.” You waited for confirmation, catching on Sukuna nodded and waited for you to continue. It was like floodgates opened the way you confessed “Okay good. So… I want to lose my virginity. And, and I trust you the most out of everyone I know. It's okay if you say no, I won't take it to heart and besides, I have a plan B so it’s totally, totally fine.” it didn't feel as bad once you finished, although you didn't mean to add that last part. What happens, happens. You're comfortable with your relationship with sukuna so this should mean nothing to him, so you thought. Sukuna on the other hand, was not feeling the same relief, well he was until you mentioned a plan B.

“Plan B? And who the fuck is that” he stood up towering over you, eyebrow arched.

“Oh well, gojo told me about Toji..you know him” The way he looked down on you was doing something, you felt something you hadn’t felt from another person in a while, Arousal.

“Gojo is an idiot don't ever take advice from him” Sukuna regained a little of his composure after recalling your words. So he was plan A? “So you want me to fuck you, baby?” his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you to his chest. He liked the way you looked up at him.

“Yes..” it came out barely a whisper, but sukuna wasn't having that.

“Sorry? What was that?” he leaned his ear down towards you. Oh so he’s gonna tease? You should have known.

“damn it.. Fuck, Yes, Sukuna. I want you” The words came out so breathy and desperate it surprised you. Sukuna noticed it as well and that fueled him even more as he slid his hands under your shirt and up your back. His warm hands felt like fire across your skin. He pushed you flush against his chest as his lips brushed against yours, breath fanning your face.

“You gonna undress or do you want me to do it for you” a snicker left his lips as he watched you pout.

“Kuna be nice…” but nonetheless you stepped back and slowly peeled off each article of clothing, revealing more and more to sukuna. The tightening in his pants became more apparent once he saw you completely bare. He knew you'd be beautiful, but this level of imperfection felt illegal. Every peak and curve of yours looked so plush and soft, he wanted to kiss every inch of you. He wanted to caress your hips and feel as the goosebumps rose on your skin. But it wasn’t like him to voice all of that. Approaching you again, he leaned down and brushed his lips on yours again, but this time he kisses you.

“Nice rack” Ignoring the sarcastic response you gave him in return, he reaches up to cup one of your breasts feeling the weight of it. His thumb brushed over your pebbling nipple, and the soft sigh you left out was better than he ever imagined. Sukuna pulled you towards your bed, making you lay back on your pillows. He pulled your thighs apart, but you quickly snapped them shut. “Well, how will you lose your V-card like that, let me see baby?” he slapped your thigh lightly urging you to open up again. Once you do he groans as you spread your lips for him, already so wet there were strings of arousal connecting. The two of you stayed like that for a while, you spreading yourself for him and Sukuna watching every twitch and clench. “Have any of them made you cum before?” you shake your head. He wanted to hunt them all down, but that’s for another time. “Have you ever made yourself cum?” you nod. “Then show me, sweetness.” he leans back on his heels. Sukuna had dreamed of being in this situation for so long, he’s going to make the most of it.

“Kuna…I-” he raises his eyebrow at you again waiting for you to follow instructions. As instructed you brought one hand to circle around your clit. The way his eyes focused on the way you circled your bundle of nerves made even more slick drip from your pussy. You brought your other hand up to pinch and pull on one of your hardened nipples. Sukuna couldn't help but palm at his bulge, the ache too much to ignore as you sped up.

“Put your fingers inside” he urged nearly drooling

“But that's never felt good when they did it” you whine moving your fingers faster. You were already close like this. Between the feeling of your own fingers and the way he watched, was enough to send you over the edge, but that was cut short. Sukuna huffed and slapped your hand away. The feeling of your orgasm depleting ripped a sob from your throat, but you were quickly shut up by one of his fingers prodding at your hole.

“I'm not them” and with that he ducked his head between your thighs and watched the way your cunt sucked his finger in, just begging for another. He grew dizzy with the sweet musk that was coming from you. Sukuna could not believe he was face to face with what he dreamed about. His lips made their way to your pulsating bulb, giving it gentle kisses before enveloping it completely and giving you a harsh suck. You've never been touched like this before and this new sensation sent electricity throughout your whole body. Why didn’t you ask Sukuna to do this sooner? The rumors about him were true.

“K-Kunaa, moree. M-more” your back arched so prettily for him when he added another finger, saying something about “yer greedy cunt” but the pleasure he was giving you was so overwhelming you couldn’t really focus on anything. He moved away from your clit down to get a taste of you, thumbing at your bundle of nerves while finally getting a taste of your honey pot. The groans he let out went straight to your cunt making you ooze more, earning more groans of approval.

“Mm, you taste so sweet~. Can't believe it took so long for me to get a taste” he watched your face contort into that of pleasure and he wanted so badly to sink inside you, but he was enjoying being between your thighs too much to quit now. As soon as he started to fuck his tongue inside of your hole he couldn’t help but rut his hips against your sheets. The taste of you was making sukuna absolutely drunk. Never in his life has some pussy made him so desperate to nearly cream in his own boxers. He made mental notes of every reaction you had, recording every twitch and shiver you had to memory.

You heard stories but you didn’t know just how messy of an eater he was. The sounds of him devouring you were so sinful and embarrassing, but the sound of him slurping and lapping at your cunt brought you closer and closer to cloud nine. If it wasn't for the vice grip you had on Sukuna’s pink locks or the way he pinned you down by your thighs you fear you’d simply float away. And oh when he locked eyes with you as he pinched your clit you saw a glimpse of the pearly gates. Your thighs clamped around his head as he drank everything you gave him. He continued to lap at your twitching pussy pushing you towards overstimulation. If sukuna had it his way he would have spent another three hours with his face buried in your cunt, but you were desperately trying to push his head away with soft moans of “kuna please”. Reluctantly he parted away from you with a kiss to your clenching hole and sat back on his knees admiring his handy work. Your pussy was a wet mess of your slik and his spit and oh did it make his dick jump with the way you lazily palmed at your breast, pupils completely blown as you wait for what you wanted, what you needed from him.

“S-sukuna that was ssoo good” You watched as he whipped your remaining juices off his mouth and chin smirking wildly.

“Told you I wasn’t like those little boys you fucked around with” he leaned down capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that took no time to develop into a clash of tongue and teeth. The taste of yourself on his tongue made you moan into his mouth. The throbbing you felt started to become more and more unbearable as he kissed down your neck biting and nibbling here and there.

“Fuck… hurry I wanna feel you” You spread your legs making more room for him, bucking your hips up in desperate attempts to feel him. Sukuna groaned at the sight, wasting no time to discard his clothes, freeing his aching erection from the confines of his sweats. The size of him made you drip even more. How could you crave something so much when you've never had it? You don’t know but the need for him is burning through you. You wanna taste him, taste the pretty pearlescent pre that leaks from his tip in fat globs, lick the vein running on the underside of his cock, suck on the tip, feel the weight of him in your mouth, and see if he lets out pretty moans of your name. But you’ll save that for next time, hopefully, there will be a next time. Without realizing it you began to rub your clit as you watched him, his voice snapped you out of the trance.

“Cock drunk already? Playing with that pretty pussy just from the sight of my cock, oh I'm flattered” he cooed as he crawled back between your legs, heavy cock bobbing with his movements. His arrogance always got to you, but in this setting it made you crave him more. His cockieness made your cunt throb with anticipation. All you did in response was whine, something sukuna wasn't used to. No snarky sarcastic comeback, no punches, just whines and your hands desperately trying to pull him closer and it was driving him absolutely insane. He grabbed the base of his cock and lined it up with your entrance, dragging the tip up and down your slit and circled around your swollen clit a couple more times. The warmth radiating off of you felt soo good on him, but you guided his face to look back up at you causing him to stop his movements.

“ ‘Kuna...w-wait. Please, could you be gentle?” the question came out barely audible, the vulnerability made your cheeks burn. He smiled in return, not his normal shit-eating grin, but one of sincerity.

“ ‘Couse pretty baby. Need you to enjoy your first time, cant ruin my rep now can I?” he leaves a kiss on your forehead, and then goes down to capture your lips, not the clash of teeth and tongue as before. This one felt like more. In truth sukuna cared nothing for his reputation, as of right now he wanted to make you feel as good as possible. The newfound gentleness was new territory for him, but for you it felt like he needed to take his time and do things right. After giving you reassurance and promises of taking care of you, you gave sukuna the “okay” he needed to finally push into you. He felt the way you tensed up at the intrusion, but he was quick to shush you, kissing the tears away as he played with you clit to distract you from the stretch with each inch he sank into you.

“Oh f-*hic*-uck, it’s...you’re so much I-. more please more” The feeling of him pressed all the way in you was nothing like you’ve felt. The stretch melted from uncomfort to unfathomable pleasure and you needed more. The twitch you felt from him inside you let you know that he felt just as good. In one swift motion, he pulled out just to the tip and pushed back in, the drag of him against your walls making you clench.

“Fuck your so t-ight even after all that work. You gotta relax… baby, f-fuck” his brows knitted together. The vice grip you had on him is going to make him cum prematurely, and he can’t have that. You tried your best to relax some but the way he fucked into you was way too good, and when he angled his hips up it was over. Your breath hitched, you've never reached that spot yourself and now you were seeing stars with the way he abused it. Over and over he bullied himself into you and right to that spongy spot. The moans you let out of his name only fueled sukuna more, rutting into you faster and harder. He promised to be gentle but the way you squeeze and drip around him made that impossible. The sound of your squelching pussy and his balls smacking against your ass was intoxicating, addicting. The sudden fluttering of your walls broke sukuna out his trance.

“Kunnaaa I-Ithink..c-cum. I’mgonna cum” you moaned and moaned as you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him down for a kiss. Your moans were swallowed up by him in the messy kiss, mixed drool rolling down your chin. He pulled away pressin his forehead against yours whispering praises on how good you're making him feel and how good you're taking him.

“If you're gonna cum, cum. Lemme see what pretty face you make when you feel good” and the huskyness of his voice was the last push you needed to cream all over him. You arched off the bed, eyes rolling to the back of your head as silent moans left you. The spasms of your walls hurled him towards his own release. The way you try and milk him and suck his cock back in makes his thrusts sloppy. “Oh fu-ck, fuck. Youfeelsogood. So good. Virgin pussy is mine, taking my cock so well. Tell me its mine, yeah? Mine to fuck mine to- shit im gonna cum, whe-” his babbles get cut off before he can even finish his question.

“In-inside. Please i wanna feel you inside” and at that moment Sukuna makes a mental note to delete his booty call list. You are all he wants, all he needs. With the last remnants of his composure, he folds you completely in half, reaching even deeper than before. He felt so impossibly deep you swear you could feel his cockhead in your womb.

“Fuck you're too good. Want me to fill you up? Fill up your pussy, yeah? Augh! Are you c-cuming again? Oh Oh-” he moans the loudest he’s ever had as he falls over on you. His body going completely stiff as thick ropes or his hot cum fill you to the brim. Sukuna was derailed by how caught off guard he was by his own orgasm. He has never came as hard as he did, body trembling as he tried to ride out both your highs. And oh he came so much, you feel both your releases oozing out before he even pulls out. The two of you stay like that for a little while, kisses here and there. Coos and caresses exchanged.

“Thank you, Ryo…I think I get why you're a whore now.” and you break into a fit of giggles as he rolls his eyes in response.

“Yeah whatever. You shoulda let me hit sooner baby.” he said kissing the corner of your mouth

“Baby? You called me that a lot. Am I your baby?” you raised an eyebrow jokingly, attempting to tease him,

“You wanna be? Sweetheart just say the word and im yours. All yours, Only yours” he was serious this time, no hint of playfulness, no teasing.

“Take me out on a date”

“I already started planning it”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

⟢🐝notes: Sooor sorry it took so long chat. Hiii new followers hiiiii, sorry if you were waiting on this for too long （；´д｀）ゞ. I would blame college and work but like, also i've been doing nothing but play stardew 🌚. I HOPE IT WAS OKAY!!! Again im always open to feedback! And maybe i’ll do requests?? Idk if i have time ill do it. I think asks are open? Im fairly new to creating on here so idk...

Okay baiiiiiii (≧∇≦)ﾉ

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #modern sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna #sukuna ryoumen smut #🪼🐝writes

362 notes · View notes

themultifanshipper · 4 months ago

Note

So I read the your story about Logan, George, Max and paddock bunny reader. It was fucking amazing.

Could I maybe request a fluff one where some random man is very sexist and mean towards her. The drivers see it and become kind of protective. When she wants to reward them with sex, they are being like : No honey. You just rest and look pretty while we murder this idiot☺️👍

But please don't feel pressured to write it if you don't feel comfortable

You should have known as soon as the journalist approached you that this wouldn't end well.

“Would you mind answering a couple of questions, miss?”

You naively said yes, not expecting the line of questioning that was about to come.

Part 3 of One of the Boys

Warnings: a smidge of angst, lots of fluff, drivers being protective, a lil smut at the end but it's skippable, i've put a *** where it starts, dirty talk, sleepy sex, smut with Oscar and Lando, mentioned smut with Charles, Max and George just being good friends

“Care to comment on the rumour that you are in the paddock as a sexual companion for the drivers to use to relieve stress?”

Your breath got caught in your throat.

“Excuse me?”

The man cleared his throat and continued.

“Sources say you have slept with multiple drivers, is it because you have some sort of agreement or contract? Or are you just that promiscuous?”

You stared at him open mouthed, not knowing what to say.

“Or are you perhaps doing it for money? Do you have a sugar daddy in the paddock? Do you limit yourself to drivers or do you also let team officials have a go at you?”

What the fuck.

Tears prickled your eyes at the onslaught of invasive questions as rage filled you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? What gives you the right to ask about my sex life?! What I do in my free time is none of your fucking business, and for your information, I do not receive money from any member of the paddock, and I am NOT just a toy to use for men whenever they feel like! Just because I'm a woman you assume I have an ulterior motive for being here but-”

Your voice was getting louder as each word left your lips and the shouting attracted the attention of George and Max that were passing nearby.

“What's going on here?” Max asked the man as George noticed a tear run down your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You wiped at it furiously and nodded “Yeah I'm fine!”

Max stared daggers between you and the man “What the fuck did you say to her?”

The man rolled his eyes dismissively.

“I wanted to know if the rumours of her being the paddock's whore were true… I guess I have my answer”

The sudden urge to swing at him almost overtook Max but he held himself in check. George put arm around you and lead you away, managing to spit out a ‘go fuck yourself’ to the man.

Max ripped the man's lanyard off and checked the name on it.

“Well done, Jonathan, you've successfully managed to get yourself banned from ever coming to a race again, good luck salvaging your career after I'm done making sure you never work in sports journalism ever again”

He stormed off straight towards the offices, ready to bribe the entire FIA top brass if it meant protecting you from ever living through that again.

You and George made your way through the paddock and ran into Oscar on the way, who noticed your distress immediately.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Another tear ran down your cheek as you all but threw your arms around him and squeezed him, tears dampening his team polo.

He widened his eyes at George in question, who ran a hand up and down your back soothingly.

“Some dickhead journalist was being a cunt and calling her the paddock whore. Max is sorting it”

“Shit, I'm so sorry baby. That shouldn't have happened”

George hummed in agreement. “One thing's for sure, it won't happen again if Max has anything to say about it”

You sniffled and let Oscar go, straightening yourself out before the next session as the other drivers had to go and get ready.

Qualifying was nerve wracking. It was Monza after all.

Oscar made you stay in the McLaren garage to stop any unwanted attention falling on you.

Him and George came to find you after, at least one of them staying by your side at all times like guard dogs until it was time to go.

You were still a bit shaky as you spotted Max waiting for you by the entrance.

“I've sorted it. That guy won't be coming anywhere near the paddock for at least 5 years, and I've sent a request for a GDPA meeting to discuss the need for extra security for drivers and their guests”

George made an impressed face and Oscar hummed.

“I don't know how to repay you guys for today” you fiddled with the hem of your top as your eyes shifted from one driver to the other until they landed on Max “At least let me do something for you”

Your hand went to Max's chest but he took it and squeezed.

“Absolutely not. That would be taking advantage of you and I refuse to prove that asshole right”

The other two readily agreed.

“You're free to stay in any of our hotel rooms if it will make you feel better, but we’re your friends and our priority is keeping you safe”

You started getting emotional again as you hugged them before swearing you'd be fine on your own and going your separate ways.

You once again ended up staying in the same hotel as the McLaren drivers.

And as you unwinded after your day you started getting a bit stressed out at the idea of something like this happening at every race and before you knew it you found yourself in front of Oscar's hotel room, on the verge of an anxiety attack.

It wasn't Oscar that opened the door however, it was Lando. And he was shirtless.

You stared at him as you tried to collect your thoughts.

“Hey baby, you okay? Oscar told me what happened earlier”

You surged forwards and hugged him, making the man stumble a bit.

He wrapped his arms around you protectively and squeezed while you inhaled the comforting scent of his cologne.

Oscar, wondering who was at the door, came to investigate and awed at the sight of you two cuddling in the doorway.

You looked at him only in his boxers, and were suddenly hit with the realisation.

“Wait, shit. Were you about to fuck before I knocked?”

Oscar laughed and patted you on the back. “Don't worry about us baby, if you need company we're always available for you”

You had to hold back tears as you asked to take a shower, which you did, before climbing into bed in a borrowed shirt, the other two climbing in either side of you.

Oscar turned the light off and you snuggled up to him.

As your beathing synced up with his, your hand wandered over his chest. “You sure you don't want a quick blowjob?”

He snorted and slapped your hand away as Lando cackled behind you. “Absolutely not! Go to sleep and we'll see what happens tomorrow, I'd rather earn it by beating the others on track”

He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before wrapping arm around you.

You fell asleep like that, Oscar drawing patterns on your arm and Lando snoring softly behind you.

***

You woke the next morning completely tangled with another body.

Turns out it was Lando's, and he was shifting around, letting out soft puffs of breath against your forehead.

And you couldn't blame him, you were almost panting yourself, both at how hot you were because of you being plastered against his body, and at the fact that his thigh was between yours and rubbing against your clothed pussy with all his shifting around.

You moaned softly and that seemed to wake him up with a start, eyes darting around until they focused on your face and he realised what was happening.

His hard cock was rutting against your hip and he shuddered when your hand went down to palm him through his boxers.

“Fuck baby, I hope you're feeling as needy as I am right now”

You giggled into his shoulder and nodded, hand slipping into his boxers to thumb at his wet tip.

He quickly stopped you, lest he come too quickly and kissed your forehead before trailing your own hand down your body.

“Touch yourself” he whispered “tell me how wet you are for me”

You slid a finger through your folds and your suspicions were confirmed as it almost slipped right in with how slick you were.

“So fucking wet, Lan” you whispered back, you didn't know if Oscar was still sleeping behind you but you didn't care.

“Shit you're right” Lando’s finger had joined yours “I could slip right in. Can I?”

You nodded and he lazily slid your slick panties out of the way and rubbed himself through your folds a couple of times before pushing in.

It was a tight fit, but he was right, he slid inside with no resistance and he groaned and bottomed out.

“Fuck. Shit. Hell, I'm not going to last long, baby” his voice was tight as he started rocking his hips gently.

You just got wetter as he went deeper and deeper, hooking your leg over his hip to drive into you with more force.

You bit into his shoulder to try and keep your noises at bay but it was useless when Lando used you to chase his pleasure and it didn't take long for him to start whimpering into your skin.

“Can I come inside you, baby, please?”

“Of course, Lan. Come for me, good boy...”

“Fuck” his hips slammed against yours twice more as he filled you up.

You quickly ripped the covers off you and breathed a sigh of relief as the slightly cooler air of sunny Monza hit your over heated skin.

He kissed you sweetly and it almost escalated into more but you heard a chuckle behind you.

Your two heads snapped to Oscar.

The fucker was laying on his side, head propped on his hand as he watched you with a smile.

“Well that was quick” he teased, eyes full of mirth “I'm glad you interrupted us last night if that's the performance I was going to get”

You giggled and Lando huffed “Oh fuck off. If you felt how fucking sweet her pussy is you wouldn’t have lasted either”

“Challenge accepted” Oscar said with glee as he slid towards you and leaned against your back.

“You can go shower while I take care of her” he unhooked your leg from Lando's waist and lifted it as he lined himself up and pushed into you slowly.

Your eyes rolled back at the stretch (because Oscar was slightly thicker than Lando) and the change of angle which made him grind into your g-spot dead on.

Lando rolled his own eyes, crawling out of bed to go and shower, grumbling on the way.

“That's not fair, you've got the better angle you bastard…”

Oscar chuckled and thrusted into you harder, ripping a moan from your throat.

You were about to move to get on top of him but Oscar held you firmly in place.

“No baby, let me do all the work”

He rolled over you and pressed your body into the mattress, his weight comforting on top of you as he jackhammered his hips into you at the perfect angle to make you see stars.

One of his hands squeezed itself in-between your body and the mattress to find your puffy cunt and rubbed calculated circles on your clit.

You came so hard you almost blacked out and you started begging for him to come inside you, knowing that always made him weak in the knees.

“Please Osc, fill me up with your come, make me carry a part of you inside me while you race”

Oscar let out a punched out moan and there's nothing he could do to stop it as he did just that, pumping you full to the brim with his cum as he growled into your shoulder, teeth probably leaving indents on your skin.

Once his brain had stopped melting he landed a sharp slap to your ass.

“That wasn't part of my plan. Fucking witch.”

You laughed as he got off you to go join Lando in the bathroom.

“I know my way around my boys' kinks, what can I say?” you laughed as he flipped you off.

“Yeah, yeah. I want a rematch, tonight if I win. I'm not stopping until you're crying”

Fat chance, you thought.

You giggled and got up to follow him in, also desperately needing a shower.

Well, he didn't win, so you didn't get to see him that evening (though your celebrations weren't anything less than extraordinary, after all, it wasn’t every day that Il Predestinato won at Ferrari's home race).

What you did get however, was a video the next day.

As you lay in bed with Charles, you clicked on the icon curiously and almost spit out the coffee he’d gone and bought in an attempt to nurse your hangovers.

It was from Oscar's point of view, fucking Lando missionary, and the older man was covered, and I mean covered, in what you assumed was his own cum. He was whimpering as Oscar fisted his cock in time with his hips' movements.

“See? I told you I could last longer. Made him come so many times he can't even speak” Oscar growled into the microphone

You (and a curious Charles) watched in silent horror as Lando came again with a sob, completely dry.

It was an unhinged thought, but you secretly hoped Oscar would win the next race, and every single race until the end of time.

#my thots #lando thots #oscar thots #lando norris #oscar piastri #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut #f1 #formula 1 #ask #request #one of the boys #landoscar

685 notes · View notes

magnolias-make-me-happy · 1 year ago

Text

warnings: dirty talk,smutty smut,miguel o'hara

just watched across the spiderverse nd now i'm feral so enjoy my lovlies <3 (also peep the titanic reference)

No thoughts just this image of slow, nasty sex with miguel o’hara, his hips rocking into yours at an agonizingly slow pace. He's got his head in your neck and his arms wrapped around the back of your head holding you as close as humanly possible to him “that’s it cariño, such a good girl” he groans in your ear, his heavy panting warming your neck as he ruts into you. You squeeze your eyes shut and whimper at the heavy feeling of pleasure permeating the room. “m-miguel” you manage to get out in between pants, your hands squeezing and clawing at his back leaving red lines in their wake “fuck” he hisses and you feel his fangs graze your neck sending a shiver down your spine, you gasp and arch up into his chest “shit miggy, so good” your words seem to slur as you toss your head back into the pillow as much as you can

as your hands slide down to his lower back to push him in further, miguel pulls away just enough to lean on his elbows “mírame mi amor” he purrs. You struggle to open your eyes but when you do you’re met with what you believe is the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen

miguel’s hair is stuck to the skin of his forehead, pieces sticking up in odd places from being yanked on, his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, his mouth is slightly open with the most sinful grunts falling from his lips, and his body is covered in a delicious sheen of sweat. that coupled with the sight of him rocking into your body is enough to make you cum right then and there.

Jesus he looks like a god

He fucks like one too

Miguel’s eyes are searching your face, memorizing every gasp, every contortion of pleasure, he loves nights like this. Where all that can be heard is the sound of your little whimpers and gasps of his name, where all he can feel in his entire being is the wet, warm pull of his cock inside of you. He gives one particularly hard thrust and it jolts you slightly up the bed “jesus! fuck-mm” the breath feels like it’s being knocked out of you as you approach that feeling of complete euphoria that only miguel can give you, his hips change pace and suddenly every thrust is almost impossibly deeper than the last. His hand slides down your body until it hooks under your knee and pulls your leg around his waist, as your legs lock around his back a growl rips through his body

“se siente demasiado bien cariño” he rushes out in a pleasure filled groan, his hand wraps around the back of your neck and pulls your head up to meet him in a desperate kiss. It’s wet and sloppy and feels so good as his hips continue to slam into yours, his pelvis catches your clit and you break the kiss, throwing your head back and moaning “ah-por favor miguel” he hangs his head to rest it against your shoulder, he lets out the most toe curling laugh “pobre bebé” he says in a mocking tone “puedes tómalo hmm? i know you can, such a good fucking girl for papi”

His words go straight to your core and you clench around his cock as he grunts “sí papi, make me cum” you whine “un poco más mamí, then you can cum all over this big cock yeah? I know you want it, tell me” miguel picks up his pace, the wet squelching sound filling the room “mierda, hear that? this pussy loves my thick cock, practically pullin’ me back in” tears start to roll down your eyes as you feel that burning fire in your stomach begin to flood all over your body “please miguel, m’so close i can’t-” you trail off as you get lost in the drag of miguel's cock, you can feel his thrusts getting rougher and his breathing quicker and you can tell that he’s close too

“tell me you want it, baby” he breathes from above you, “fuck! I want it miguel please, wanna cum” your body feels like jello, all thought escaping your brain until there's nothing left but miguel. “cum” he orders, your pussy contracts around him while that band finally snaps, your legs shake and your nails dig into his sides as his hips continue to snap into yours, riding out your orgasm. he moans and speeds up his unforgiving pace “coño, buena chica,tómalo, tómalo” he captures your lips in his, his moans muffled as he spills into you, warmth spreading throughout your lower body

Miguel slips onto his forearms, his muscles taut and body absolutely covered in sweat. You roam your hands over his body, soothing him. “you’re trembling” you whispered, he offers you a lazy smile “i’ll be okay” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, his broad chest expanding “so are you cariño” he says as he opens his eyes, you smile up at him. This beautiful greek sculpture of a man lying above you “yeah well that’s because i was fucked within an inch of my life so, whose fault is that” he respondes with a shake of his head and a small smile on his lips as he presses soft kiss on your cheek before he slowly slides off of you and heads to the bathroom

after a minute you can hear the water running, miguel appeared in your shared bedroom doorway “wanna take a bath with me mamí?” he holds out a hand for you to take, you beam at him before you start to make your way out of your bed only to realize something. “uh miguel?” “hmm?”

“i can’t move my legs”

Translations:

cariño: sweetheart/dear

se siente demasiado bien: feels too good

por favor: please

pobre bebé: poor baby

puedes tomarlo: you can take it

un poco más: just a little more

mierda: shit

coño: fuck

buena chica: good girl

tómalo: take it

#smut #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman smut #atsv miguel #oscar issac fic #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderman 2099 imagine #spiderman 2099 x fem!reader

4K notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 3 months ago

Text

vivrant thing (jwy) | four.

—SPOTIFY PLAYLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

—SUMMARY: after getting into a little accident, wooyoung decides to do his sister a favor by pretending to be your date at the company summer party. as soon as the night ends, wooyoung would go back to his usual routine of hanging out with his boys, keeping his distance from committed relationships and being a typical brother to jiwoo. except, the favor comes with more than what wooyoung expects and he finds you occupying his mind more than usual.

—PAIRING: jung wooyoung x f. reader

—GENRE: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriend’s brother au | fluff, angst, smut

—WORD COUNT: 6.2k

—CHAPTER CONTENT / WARNINGS: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, angst angst angst, accusations are being thrown, jiwoo is mean, wooyoung is angry, hongjoong tryna play peacemaker, oc is sad, crying, its kinda a mess??, some insecurities coming to surface, mentions of past relationships and wooyoung's fuckboy history

One thing you also don't expect at Jiwoo's family lunch is how incredibly tense and awkward you and Wooyoung are. Maybe you need to wake up a little more and sit with your reality, but you surely hate the feeling it brings. It's almost obvious how you both freeze at the sight of each other, the both of you trying your hardest to keep it together but avoid eye contact.

Wooyoung's first mistake was keeping you [somewhat] at a distance after the party. Truthfully, he was scared as he sorted through his thoughts— not really sure how to make sense of any of it. Even though, he knew deep down that he did have newfound feelings for you and it wasn't something he could ignore. It wasn't like anything he's felt before, and he knew it'd only grow despite him trying to push it aside to buy him more time.

Wooyoung's second mistake was leaving you that morning without saying much afterwards. Leaving you and him in limbo. Though, this was the one core moment when he could honestly and truthfully say his feelings grew for you. He was locked in, and there was no going back. He should've told you right then and there instead of making you feel like one of them.

One of his hookups, his tap-n-dash's, his toot-it-n-boot-it's.

You were not that. He meant every word he said to you that night, and he should've fucking told you. Now, he's stuck with not knowing how to do it after some time has passed.

—FLASHBACK

Wooyoung's eyes flutter open to the sun beaming into your studio, causing him to squint and shift a bit in his position. He tries not move too much when he realizes your back is pressed against him, and he's got an arm around you. Luckily, the movements don't wake you and Wooyoung can't help but smile to himself at how tired you seem to be. He snuggles against you for a few more minutes, giving you tiny kisses on your shoulder, the back of your head. His hand gives your side a soft squeeze, and he finds that this is how he'd like to wake up every morning.

With you, in particular.

But as equally as the thought is exciting, it is also frightening. Because every moment seems to make this more and more real and he's not sure how to act. So, he freezes. Those 'few more minutes' are suddenly over, and he's slipping himself out of your bed gently. He needs time to figure out what to say and how to say it without sounding like an idiot. He slips into his clothes and finds a stack of post-its nearby, scribbling a quick note to leave on your nighstand to at least let you know he's thinking about you. He is, he truly is. He doesn't wanna rip himself off you, but he has to cause he needs time—

morning cute stuff! text me when you wake up. had to run off cause im shy and don't want you to see my morning face lol jk need to meet up with san for a workout. talk to you later! hope you slept well :)

Which, isn't entirely a lie. He does need to meet San for a workout, it's just hours later.

He darts out anyway, giving your door one last look before he heads to his car and begins his journey home. When you wake about 15 minutes after he leaves, your heart drops when you realize Wooyoung isn't behind you anymore. You were giving him the benefit of the doubt, thinking he might be locked away in the bathroom.

But, nothing.

His clothes are gone.

Wooyoung is gone.

And although the note leaves a small smile on your face, you can't ignore the way your chest tightens knowing he left in somewhat of a hurry; at least, before you could wake up. Was it because this was always how Wooyoung was? Did he really mean everything he said last night?

Or were you just like them?

The thoughts don't make it any easier on you, and you've swallowed the lump in your throat in an attempt to push the tears back. You can't help but feel hurt despite knowing how Wooyoung was. You weren't any different, and you shouldn't have relied on that. You shouldn't have gotten so comfortable, you shouldn't have opened up to him the way you did.

You were a favor to Wooyoung, nothing more, nothing less.

jiwoo: goodmorning to my baby!!!

jiwoo: sorry i didnt text you last night after dinner, we can catch up later!

jiwoo: come with me to my family lunch tomorrow? we can have a girls day after since i feel like its been so long

jiwoo: we can get our nails done and go shopping then just cry over our favorite movies!!

Then, the reality hits you even more. You're gonna have to tell Jiwoo what happened because even if you try to hide it, you're terrible at lying and Jiwoo will catch on eventually. She'll know something has changed, she'll know something has hurt you.

And you're not ready to tell her it's her own brother.

you: okay 😌 i'm down for lunch and a girls day tomorrow. i need it.

jiwoo: okay, yay! 💕 me too!! i'll pick you up around 11:30 tomorrow.

you: sounds good.

—END

"The most important people have arrived! Sorry to worry you guys. It was kinda traffic." Jiwoo says, greeting her family and San.

"No one asked." Wooyoung glares at her before making a face while she hugs him tightly. "Get off." He whines when she doesn't pry her arms around her brother right away, making her giggle mischievously. When she finally lets go and moves onto San, Wooyoung shifts his attention to you.

"Hey Y/N." He says with a pursed smile, bringing you in for a one-armed hug that feels forced and too stiff.

"Hi." You softly respond, avoiding all eye contact. It sucks, it sucks, it sucks. You didn't end up texting him that morning. As much as you wanted to, you didn't wanna look sad and desperate even though you longed for Wooyoung's company. You spent time with your grandpa to get your mind off of it, but it was difficult. He didn't take the chance to text you either, so that told you more than you needed to know.

Sometimes silence can be the most deafening.

You scurry along to say hello to San before greeting their parents, back to hiding behind Jiwoo as you all wait to be seated.

"Where's Hongjoong?"

"Not here because it's a girls day after this." Jiwoo links her arm with yours as she follows her parents into the restaurant when they're called, Wooyoung and San following behind.

"Girls day? What are you ladies doing afterwards?" Their father asks as all of you settle at a round table. You fall in between Wooyoung and Jiwoo, of course, and you almost wanna tell his sister to switch just for your own sake.

But, you don't. You suck it up.

You sit. He sits.

It's quiet.

Wooyoung grabs chopsticks from the center container and passes them out to his parents, San, then you and Jiwoo. He doesn't really say anything else, he can't really look at you just like you can't with him.

And all of this is so awkward for no reason.

Well, there are reasons, but it doesn't have to be this way and Wooyoung is constantly calling himself dumb for creating this divide, this distance. For making you feel this way. All he wants to do is hug you, kiss you a few times, hold your hand. Be all cute with you.

He's an idiot.

"Gonna get our nails done and go shop."

"I'm surprised Yeosang didn't come." Wooyoung pauses as he's skimming through the dim sum menu, hoping you don't catch the way his jaw slightly clenches. How he almost rolls his eyes at the sound of his name. He doesn't have a reason to dislike Yeosang at all, but he finds himself getting irked knowing that Yeosang has feelings for you. He shouldn't, though. He can't claim you like that, especially if he's being dumb and not knowing how to be upfront about his feelings properly.

"Oh, no. That probably won't happen for awhile." Jiwoo says.

"Aw, why not? Is he just busy nowadays?"

"Busy sulking." Jiwoo mutters playfully. "Didn't snag the girl of his dreams." She teases you and you roll your eyes.

"Stop that."

"He'll live." Wooyoung adds nonchalantly while him and San check off items on the list, and Jiwoo doesn't even bat an eye at the comment.

"What happened?" San whispers to Wooyoung and he furrows his brows at him. "Did Yeosang ask Y/N out or something?" But before Wooyoung can respond, his mom cuts in with the same question—

"Aw, no! Did he ask you out?" At this point, the waitress brings water and a kettle full of hot barley tea.

"Yeah, but we just decided to stay friends." You look at her so innocently Wooyoung can't fucking take it. Jesus Christ. Kinda reminds him of the other night.

"We, more like you." Jiwoo teases and you glare at her.

"Well, she was honest and I'm sure he appreciated it." Their father chimes in. "You don't ever wanna force anything, that's the number one rule."

"If he truly values you and respects you as one of his good friends, he'll understand and won't treat you differently from before." Their mom adds.

"That'll be awkward for them." San says lowly to Wooyoung just as he hands the checklist off to the waitress in passing.

"He's a grown ass man, he'll get over it. You win some, you lose some." San furrows his brows at Wooyoung's reaction. He truly can't help but notice that his bestfriend has been on edge ever since you and Jiwoo came. He's not sure he's ever seen Wooyoung so awkward and.. weird. And he knows you're pretty shy, but you're also acting very weird and.. avoidant?

"I guess so." Is all San says.

"Is there someone else?" Wooyoung almost chokes on his water. The heat instantly rises to your cheeks and you feel somewhat suffocated from the question alone. "Jesus, Wooyoung. I told you to drink slowly." Their mom adds.

"Mother chismosa. All up in her business." Jiwoo laughs at Wooyoung's response.

"I'm just wondering! She's like my baby, too." She furrows her brows at her son before returning to you with a smile on her face.

"Oh, um. No. There's no one else." You pause, missing the way Wooyoung is looking at you through his peripherals. "Just thought we're better off that way."

"I see. Well, you know Y/N, the right person will come in time. Don't rush it."

"Sometimes, I wish Wooyoung could find a nice girl like you." His dad chimes in. "He is a pain in the ass, though."

"I'm sorry, I'm confused. Did we gather around over some dim sum just to get on my ass? Did I miss the agenda?" Jiwoo and San snicker.

"Stop it, you're making him embarrassed." Their mom shifts her attention back to you. "Y/N, anyway. How's Papa been?" Jiwoo pours you more tea to drink.

"He's been okay. I spent the day with him yesterday. He hasn't been feeling the greatest, though."

"Oh? Is he sick?" You shrug.

"He seemed to be fine yesterday. He just says he's more tired lately, been feeling this on-and-off dull pain in his lower back. I told him we should go to the hospital, but he doesn't think it's a big deal. He thinks he just needs to keep exercising and stretching properly."

"I see. Otherwise he's been okay?"

"Mhm." You give their parents a small, toothless smile, tugging your turtleneck sweater up when you feel everyone's eyes on you for a second. "He's the same." Underneath the material are the little marks Wooyoung left, and they've barely started to fade away.

"That's good to hear. Please bring him by soon, we'd love to see him again." You nod.

"Girl, aren't you hot wearing that turtleneck?" Jiwoo tugs on the material and you kinda shimmy away from her grip.

"No, I'm okay."

"Is it just me then? Am I getting hot flashes already?" Her mom clicks her teeth and tells her to stop being so dramatic. At this point, the food is rolled in and placed on the table like a game of tetris. Everyone automatically digs in, passing food along until everyone's satisfied with their first serving. Usually by now, Wooyoung has at least teased you one way or another, cracked a joke or poked fun at you. That's how he typically is with you. Today, you're seeing a very different side of him, and you're not sure what you did wrong.

When you finish your food, you try to reach over for another piece of dimsum but it's a little further out than expected. Suddenly, Wooyoung grabs a few pieces and places it on your plate— still not making any eye contact with you.

He's so confusing.

You're not sure if you want it to be like this.

You quickly decide that you don't. You don't want to be this way with someone, you don't want someone to ever be unsure of you. You don't want someone to make you feel the slightest bit of doubt. Which, is crazy to think about. Because Yeosang could've been that person, but you were too busy wanting Wooyoung. You were too busy having feelings for Wooyoung, and even though you still feel guilty about the whole thing with Yeo, there was no way you could've forced yourself to feel a certain way.

Wishful thinking, perhaps?

At least, now you know, and you'll never allow yourself to do that shit ever again.

You continue to eat and engage in small conversation with Jiwoo and her parents, Wooyoung and San mostly in their own world together off to the side. He was seemed to be fine with San, and you don't know if you made it worse for you. You tried to push it to the back of your head, trying to tell yourself that you shouldn't feel this way. That you didn't need to be so hung up over Wooyoung. That you didn't do anything wrong.

Still hurts, though. You wonder if he'll ever talk to you again or bring it up.

When lunch is over, their parents pay for the bill and leave a hefty tip, passing out the little candies that were brought over with the receipt. Jiwoo quickly shuffles you away, thanking her parents for lunch before taking you down the street to a popular nail shop for your appointments.

The nail shop is as busy as it gets on a Sunday, but you don't wait long before you and Jiwoo are seated at the spa chairs for the pedicures. Jiwoo starts to tell you about how her and Hongjoong are going on a last minute trip to Japan and that you were welcome to come along if you wanted. You've gone on little trips with Jiwoo and Hongjoong before, and they've never made you feel like a third wheel. But, you wonder when you'd get to go on trips with your own special someone, your person.

Would this change things in the future? When Jiwoo and her family invite you on their trips?

Would this change everything?

It makes you feel like you really should've thought about your decisions before letting things escalate that night. Everything feels like a hard ass lesson, and you hate it. Everything is reminding you of your recklessness, of how you relied so much on the way Wooyoung treated you at the party. You can't say you regret it though, but it's starting to feel like a mistake.

When you politely decline and tell her to have fun with her boyfriend, another tech comes to work on your hands, beginning your gel manicure while the other tech continues with your pedicure.

"Has Yeosang texted you?" You shake your head.

"No." You sigh. "We probably won't be the same for a bit. He did say he needed time."

"I'm sorry." Jiwoo looks at you with a small pout. "He'll be okay, though. I know he cares about you regardless."

"And I care about him, too. I just want us to be okay."

"Are you sure you don't wanna come with us? Leave this place for a few days. Work won't care if we're both off last minute, we have enough team members to cover." You chuckle.

"I'm good. Promise."

"What do you wanna do after? Should we shop, then pick up some takeout so we can watch our movies?"

"Sure. I do need to buy some new clothes. I haven't spoiled myself in a bit." She gasps dramatically.

"Same."

"You went shopping when we bought our dresses."

"And that was awhile ago." She shrugs. "I'm on the lookout for this thick zip-up jacket. My brother has one and I keep taking it from him. He keeps getting mad." You don't respond. "I hate to say it, but Wooyoung has taste. Sometimes."

"Hm." You hum.

"Did you notice Wooyoung being all quiet today? It's not like him."

"I guess so."

"Well, he was quieter than usual. It's so unlike him."

"Why don't you ask?"

"Because my brother won't say a thing. I could tell him all my problems, but he won't tell me most of his. You know this. I dunno if it's some kinda façade or front to maintain this strong, older brother image. I know things bother him, but I also know a lot of things don't. It's difficult to read him." Ain't that so, you think. He is terribly hard to read.

"Do you think it's over a girl?" You awkwardly ask, looking to see what her reaction is.

"Wooyoung sulking over a girl? I doubt it. I haven't seen him do that since him and his exes broke up, and that was years ago. I'm convinced stuff like this isn't worth it to Wooyoung anymore. I haven't seen him be different around anyone."

"Oh."

"Yeah, well. Whatever. I'm sure he'll get over it."

"Yeah, I think so." You respond softly, which Jiwoo kinda catches on. She sees how quiet you've gotten and how you've managed to hide back in your shell— you probably tried not to make it so obvious, but as your bestfriend, it's easy to pick up on your switches, too.

It is a little odd, but she won't bother. She just wants to have a good girls day with you.

After the nail appointment, the both of you make your way down to the biggest mall in town to shop, especially for her trip. You find a few new outfits, one you can't wait to wear out and flaunt. Wooyoung briefly comes to mind, but you shake it off and correct yourself— because no, you're excited to wear and flaunt the new outfits for yourself.

No one else.

You were genuinely happy for the first time today. You felt good about yourself.

Until tonight comes, and all of that goes out the window rather quickly.

When you get back to Jiwoo's apartment, the both of you are pretty exhausted from the long day being out and about. It's a little past 6pm when you drag yourselves in. You take a quick shower and wind down for the evening, changing into comfier clothes that you've packed in case you wanted to spend the night at Jiwoo's. You lay out the food on the living room coffee table while Jiwoo takes her shower. You've already decided on a lineup of movies tonight: Brown Sugar, The Wood, Love and Basketball. As you wait for Jiwoo to be finished, you scroll through your phone to see if there's been any new updates, new texts.

Nothing.

Though, you've noticed Wooyoung has posted on his Instagram story. You're not usually one to peep, but you are curious; you can't help yourself. For the most part, they're just random photos of the city, San. There are two photos that do catch your eye and you're not sure if Wooyoung meant to post this for a particular reason or just cause. The first photo that catches your eye is an old vintage poster of Spirited Away. It's alongside other vintage Studio Ghibli posters, but he posted this one in particular. The second photo is of the view. You remember that Wooyoung goes there to clear his mind. You wonder if San tagged along.

"What a day!" Jiwoo comes out of the bathroom, hair still damp. She rushes over and plops next to you on the floor in front of the coffee table and TV, sending Hongjoong a quick text. "Ready, babe?"

"Mhm." You nod, the both of you popping your lids to your bowls open as the movie begins. "Thank you for today."

"Of course, are you kidding?! I love a good girls day with my bestfriend." She smiles at you, digging into her food. You swallow the lump in your throat when the truth settles in the pit of your stomach, almost making you lose your appetite completely. She gives your arm a good squeeze. She's so happy— you can't believe you're gonna be the reason why all of that changes. You needed to be honest with her, if not yourself.

Because what happened, happened. There was no going back to change it.

You give it a good hour or so, making sure the both of you have finished your food and are satisfied while you sit in your thoughts and determine it's probably a good time to talk to Jiwoo about everything. The night has settled, the climax of the movie has passed. You don't wanna wait too long, and you feel like you shouldn't; somehow hoping it'll lessen the damage, lessen the blow.

"Jiwoo." You poke her arm softly.

"Yeah?"

"Can we talk?"

"Sure, of course." She looks at you with concern, pausing the movie. "What's up, babe?"

"You know the other night, when I had dinner with Yeosang?"

"Mhm."

"There were other things I didn't get around to telling you."

"Did something else happen with him?" You look at her and you already feel the impending breakdown ready to take over in about 0.5 seconds.

"N-no. Not Yeosang." You physically shrink as you try to gain the courage to continue on.

"Huh?" Silence. "What is it, Y/N? What're you hiding from me?"

"I-I—" You feel tears welling up in your eyes. "Your brother. I meant to text you while I was drinking at the convenience store, but I accidentally texted your brother. He ended up swinging by and he walked me back home. A-and—" You pause, tears now slowly streaming down your cheeks and they seem to keep coming even with you constantly wiping them away.

"And, what?" Quite frankly, she knows where this is going. Jiwoo just doesn't wanna believe it. But, she has no choice when you hit her with the:

"We hung out for awhile, and things went further."

"Further as in?" You start to cry a little more. "Further as in.. what, Y/N?"

"Things just escalated so quickly, I'm—"

"Escalated? Did you sleep with my brother?" She's in utter disbelief and her tone says it all. She doesn't even need to hear a verbal response from you because your face completely gives it away.

"Jiwoo, I'm sorry. Things just happened and—"

"My brother? Out of all people? Was that why you were so quiet today?" More silence. "Y/N, what were you thinking?! He's no good for you! All he's gonna do is hurt you like he does with every girl that gets tangled up with him. He doesn't care, he's—" She stands as she keeps going, but you aren't hanging onto one word she's saying. You just wanna get this over with, you just wanna get away. You don't wanna hear what you already know. It's your fault; she told you so. You should've known.

"Jiwoo." You plead with your eyes, hoping she stops. It doesn't make anything better, and you feel like a child getting scolded.

"What did he say to you?" She pauses. "What did he say to you? Did he say some sweet shit to get into your pants or what? Were you really that naive?"

"Jiwoo, enough. Please." You cry. "He didn't have to say anything to me, things just happened and it wasn't just Wooyoung. I played a part in this, too." You're not really sure why you're explaining it the way that you are, but you feel as if you have no choice at this point.

"Yeah." She says, almost mockingly. "So, what now? Has he even talked to you after that?" You shake your head pathetically and your tears fall even more. "Exactly, I thought so. Because that's who he is, Y/N. I thought you knew that! He's not gonna change. Now you're here crying over him like the rest of them usually do!" You cry harder, feeling like you're about to be shoved in a corner for timeout. "You can't tell me you actually have feelings for him." She scoffs.

"I'm sorry." Is all you say. What you're sorry for, you're not sure. For yourself? For how things quickly unfolded? For having feelings for her brother?

All of the above?

"Did he even tell you he had feelings for you? Did he tell you anything before he ran off and got what he wanted from you?" You shake your head. "Unbelievable." She grabs her keys and her purse. "You should go."

"I'm sorry. I thought—"

"Please, Y/N. I need some time to process this."

"Where are you going?"

"To my brother's. Quite frankly, I can't look at the both of you right now, but I need to talk to him." You shake your head.

"It's not gonna change anything."

"It's not, but he also deserves to hear it since you're here crying in my living room about it." She furrows her brows in deep disappointment before giving you one last look. "Thought you knew better than that." She turns on her heel and leaves you in her living room. You cry, and you cry. You cry that you don't even know what you're crying over, what you're feeling hurt over.

You cry because one bestfriend is mad at you, and the other bestfriend needs his time away from you.

You cry because you have feelings for Wooyoung.

You cry because you feel so naive and stupid for admitting it, for going along with everything.

Were you wrong for feeling the way you do over him?

You quietly clean up and gather your things, sadly throwing the duffle bag over your shoulder as you lock her door from the inside and walk out. Your head hangs low when you start to walk to the nearest bus stop, taking the long way back home so that you can clear your mind and stop by Papa's apartment on the way over. Honestly, you don't blame Jiwoo for acting the way she did. You knew she was very protective of you, and you knew she was coming from a good place. You kinda just wish everything went down a little differently.

So, you continue quietly. Tears streaming down. Phone tucked away and on silent. Shutting down and ignoring the rest of the world like you always do when things go awry.

"Baby, don't you think you should just simmer down first before talking to your brother?" Hongjoong says over the bluetooth in her car.

"Simmer down for what? I can't believe he'd do that to her."

"Well, you don't really know if he actually had bad intentions. It does take two to tango. You ever think maybe, he's always had it for her and just never realized until he had to be her date? He probably needed the time. I don't think Wooyoung would mess around with Y/N like that."

"Kim Hongjoong. Aren't you supposed to be on my team right now?"

"I am, that's why I'm trying to tell you this is probably not a good idea."

"He was wrong, okay! She's naive, he knows that." She groans, causing Hongjoong to sigh.

"There were better ways to go about it, sure. I just don't think he's intentionally trying to hurt her like you think he is."

"I'll hang up in 5 seconds, Hongjoong." He clicks his teeth.

"Where is Y/N anyway? Thought you two were having a girls day."

"We were until she dropped all of this on me. She's probably on her way home."

"Why did you just leave her?"

"Because I'm angry and I can't deal right now."

"Then, go back home. You can yell at your brother any day, but you shouldn't leave her."

"I'll call you later. I'm at Wooyoung's."

"Jiwoo—" But before Hongjoong can say anything else, Jiwoo is ending the call and shutting off the car. She slams the driver's door and heads into the lobby, furiously pressing the elevator button to bring her up to the 6th floor. When she gets off and heads to his door, she repeatedly knocks until she hears shuffling on the other end.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" Jiwoo storms into Wooyoung's apartment as soon as he swings the door open. He knew this would happen at some point— he just didn't think it'd be tonight, exactly.

"You really don't have to yell—"

"My bestfriend!? Why would you sleep with her! She's not one of your fucking girls to toy around with, Wooyoung!" He's actually appalled at the way Jiwoo is coming at him right now. Most of the time, he can handle her. Today is just one of those days where he can't, and he feels himself losing it a lot quicker due to the sensitivity of the subject. He hates how Jiwoo looks at him this way, and he hates how she's so quick to badmouth him, especially when it comes to you.

What if he truly, truly cared about you?

"No one said she was!" Wooyoung matches her tone and San is awkwardly sitting off to the side, unsure of what to do. He didn't think he'd ever hear it this way, let alone didn't think Wooyoung would ever sleep with his sister's bestfriend. It wasn't a secret that Wooyoung thought you were cute, attractive. He just never crossed those lines because he didn't think he should, especially with the way he had tendencies to be a dick.

San is so unsure of how to take all of this.

Did Wooyoung just cave after the party? Did he plan for this to happen? How did he even get you to do all that with him?

"What else can I call it? Why would you take advantage of her—"

"Slow your fucking roll, Jiwoo. I never said I was just using Y/N for anything, nor do you have the right to assume that." Wooyoung says seriously. It's true, and he finds himself hurt at the wild accusations Jiwoo is spewing out. He wasn't always good, but he wasn't entirely bad. He's made some terrible decisions and acted poorly in certain situations, but he never failed to learn from his mistakes and be the bigger person about it. He'd be honest, and in the end, he would never let his pride win just to get away with it.

"What am I supposed to think with your amazing track record?"

"I don't care if I made some mistakes or fucked around in the past, you don't get to say all that just because you're angry."

"All of a sudden you're good and pure when it comes to Y/N." She groans. "I swear to god, Wooyoung. The favor was supposed to be just a favor, not a window for you to add her to your roster—"

"Aye, stop while you're ahead." Wooyoung cuts her off. "You don't get to come into my space and yell at me for shit you know nothing about. Stop painting me like that, Jiwoo. I'm not this shitty person you like to think I am. For real. I don't appreciate it. You're spitting out all these crazy accusations when you have nothing but my past to refer to. I was never planning to 'put her on my roster' or treat her that way, I never meant to hurt her in any way. It's fucking wild you'd assume that."

"Then, why haven't you talked to her if you wanna claim this is different, Wooyoung?"

"Because I just need time to sort through my shit, okay! As much as I wanna talk to her, I don't know how and I'm trying to figure it out, that's all. Sorry. I'm not tryna mess this up more than I might've already done."

"You're unbelievable." Jiwoo glares at him. "Do you have feelings for her or not? It's a simple yes or no. Stop dragging it out so unnecessarily—"

"No. We're not doing this right now."

"Wooyoung!"

"I don't care! That's not for you to decide, so don't push it." He says sternly. "I'm not answering your question cause we're not talking about this right now, not when we're both angry. We're gonna go in circles like we always do and we're not gonna get anywhere. So no, I'm not saying anything to you, especially until you stop yelling and accusing me of things." He glares at her. "I sure as hell hope you didn't come at Y/N this way because she didn't do anything wrong. You don't get to talk to her like that either." He pauses. "Where is she?"

"I told her to go home."

"Oh, so you left her alone just to do this? The hell is wrong with you?"

"Can't I say the same shit about you? Leaving her that morning without saying a word." She scoffs while he bites his tongue, hoping she'd leave after getting this out of her system. "I thought so. You better fix this properly." Is all Jiwoo says before she turns on her heel and slams his door shut.

"And you should fix your attitude while you're at it!" Wooyoung yells. He groans loudly and plops onto the couch with a loud sigh. "Sorry." Is all he says to San, who is still dumbfounded over the argument that just went down.

"It's all good." Wooyoung is running a hand down his face before tossing his phone onto the table and resting his head back against the couch. As much as he loves to push his sister's buttons, he doesn't enjoy it when they fight. He doesn't like it when they're heated and angry at each other. He knows she can't help but protect you [rightfully so], but he hates the way she treats him like he has zero common sense. He wouldn't do that to you, especially out of all people.

You would never be just another girl to him.

"So, what happened exactly?" Wooyoung lets out a breath.

"It was the other night, after she had dinner with Yeosang. She meant to text Jiwoo while she was drinking at the convenience store, but she accidentally texted me. I swung by to make sure she was okay, and things just escalated that night."

"That's why you two were weird around each other today."

"Yeah, but that's mainly my fault. I ran off when I shouldn't have. I didn't talk to her the way I wanted to because I froze. I haven't really felt like this in a long time and it scared me. It's a dumb excuse."

"Woo, are you sure this isn't just a phase or something?"

"A phase?" San shrugs. "You're not serious, right?"

"I don't know. I just have to ask. I feel like you've had moments when you thought you liked someone, but it wasn't like that."

"San." Wooyoung almost looks hurt when he turns to him. His expression says all.

"Hm?" Wooyoung shakes his head.

"It's not like that at all. I-I genuinely have feelings for Y/N. I really, really like her."

"Oh." San looks at him, a mixture of confusion and concern plastered on his face. "Oh, okay. So it is like that."

"Fuck." Wooyoung groans. "I fucked up. I should've just told her. Fuck!" He repeats, now pacing around his living room. San doesn't even respond because he's not sure how to. He watches as his bestfriend runs his hand through his hair, quickly texting away before making a call.

Wooyoung's third mistake is letting this linger. Now, everyone, including you and his sister, are continuing to paint him as this bad guy; a bad guy that he has a tendency to be, had a past history of being. But, with you, he's different. He needs you to know that. He should've done this differently.

He just needs to be honest, and he knows he can't put this off any longer. It's time.

Wooyoung feels the inner panic when he tries to call you a few times, but you don't answer. He sends a few texts asking where you're at. If you're safe. If he can come see you so he can talk to you because he really needs to.

wooyoung: y/n. i know you probably don't wanna talk to me right now, but i really wanna explain.

wooyoung: i'm so sorry y/n, i fucked up. can i come see you so we can talk about this properly?

wooyoung: at least let me know if you're okay and safe if you don't wanna talk tonight.

And you see the missed calls and texts from Wooyoung. But, they're overshadowed by the missed call notifications from Papa. You barely get a chance to let it marinate, especially when you approach his apartment and all you're welcomed with is chaos.

Bright lights.

"Papa?" You walk closer to his apartment, seeing the paramedics coming out with your grandfather on a stretcher. "Papa!" You cry, pushing your way through them to get a good look at your grandpa. He's conscious, barely clinging onto it, though. He gives you a small smile as you hold his hand and climb into the truck, sitting right by his side. He called because he needed you, and you weren't there. You weren't there because you were too busy justifying your actions to Jiwoo, you weren't there because you were too busy trying to find out how to tell her you had feelings for her brother.

You weren't there, and he's here.

Wooyoung is the last thing on your mind right now.

—TAGLIST: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @heyitsmetonid @ldysmfrst @intaksfav @wooyoungsbrat @hyukssunflower @yunhoswrldddd @gotthicbish @thespiffynerd @jaytheatiny @yoonrixx @aurorajoye @i-love-ateez

#wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #kpop imagines #kpop #wooyoung x y/n #jung wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung angst #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung angst #jung wooyoung smut #hwaslayer: vivrant thing

321 notes · View notes

star-girl69 · 6 months ago

Text

After Midnight

Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: flirting with the star hockey player at the frat party isn’t what you would normally do, but it’s after midnight and something about the lights is making everything a little hazy.

feel free to send requests!!! 🫶🫶

a/n: GUYS PLEASE. PLEASE IGNORE THIS. i’m sorry i’ve betrayed all my morals… but i cant sit idly by while my fellow kk lovers suffer… i hope you all enjoy!!

After Midnight - Chappell Roan

warnings: not proofread!!!, ALCOHOL!!! we are in a FRAT people!!, some swearing ofc, super brief barely there mentions of violence and such, kk is taller than reader by like an inch suck it idc i do what i want, super brief mention of y/n having hair (length unspecified), idk like a bit of kissing and some somewhat suggestive thoughts… y/n is a freak 💔, i’ve never flirted with anyone before how do you do this, so probs inaccurate, i don’t know anything about hockey just prefacing this, i also don’t know how college works rip, as chappell roan said: “i love a little drama, let’s start a bar fight, cause everything good happens after midnight”

—-

“Shit, babe, you look fuckin’ hot.”

This entire night is almost painful for you. Stepping out of your comfort zone on any level is always an adjustment, but trading your early nights in with homework and Netflix for a sexy dress showing everything in all the right and wrong places- is especially hard.

You almost cringe touching the velvet fabric of your revealing dark red shirt, staring at someone in the mirror you don’t even recognize.

“Jackie,” you mumble to your best friend and roommate, “I think it’s.. too much.”

Jackie tilts her head to the side, short dirty blonde hair swaying with the movement. She’s only humoring you, you can tell. “Nope. Perfect.”

You look at the pictures stuck in the slats of the mirror. Pictures of you, Jackie, and the other girl in your trio, Tyla, faces pressed together in bright smiles from various adventures from your freshman year at college.

It was such a relief when Jackie was the sweetest girl and an amazing person to share a dorm with, but when she brought along her best friend Tyla from a few doors down- the three of you fell into a quick and beautiful friendship, like the ones in the movies.

Jackie and Tyla were definitely more on the party girl side than the study girl side, but that was what was so great about your friendship. You reminded them that they did in fact have homework, and they pushed you to do things like this every once in a while.

This was the first time you had ever suggested it. Midterms were over- it would be wrong to not celebrate. To breathe in the few seconds you had left as a freshman, before it all got turned up again for sophomore year.

“Okay,” Jackie breathes, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Take a deep breath, babe. The fit is a lot, yes, but it’s gorgeous. I mean, damn, where have you been hiding that ass?”

You bite your lip, eyes tearing away from the pictures, meeting Jackie’s eyes in the reflection.

“My ass does look really good,” you concede.

“Hell yeah it does!” Jackie shouts, smiling brightly. “Don’t be nervous, okay? It’s just some random frat party. We can go sit outside if it gets too much.”

It’s break. It’s Friday night. You look good, however uncomfortable you are.

“Fuck,” you mumble. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m just gonna do a few shots when we get there.”

“That’s my girl.”

Jackie thinks for a moment. “Besides, I think it’s a party to celebrate the girls hockey team winning a game, or something like that. The attention is gonna be far away from you. But…”

She trails off, picking at a piece of thread hanging from her comforter.

“What?” You ask, heart jumping to your throat in fear.

“Dylan might be there,” she shrugs.

Ugh.

Dylan.

Dylan wasn’t even that big of a problem, just a boy you had overzealously dated right when you got to college, when you were adjusting and still kind of lonely, only to find out his obsessive, stalker-ish personality was literal hell to be in a relationship with.

After maybe a week of constant love-bombing and clinginess, you broke up with him- and he tried for literal months to get your attention before he finally seemed to give up.

Once in a while, you’d see him at these parties, and he’d stare at you in a way that was probably supposed to be sexy, but was only weird and uncomfortable.

“Who gives a fuck about him?” You ask, your own surprise reflected in Jackie’s face.

“Damn, girl. Yeah, you’re fuckin’ right. Who gives a fuck about his sad ass?”

“I don’t,” you scoff, refusing to let him ruin your night.

The bathroom door slams open suddenly, revealing Tyla in an even more revealing black dress. Skin tight with cut outs showing her dark skin.

“Jesus Christ, I pity the other girls at that bar.” Tyla runs her hands down her sides, smiling brightly in a way that can only be joking.

And you laugh, and you laugh when she softly bumps you away from the mirror and admires herself even more.

—-

Because of this rash decision to go out, Tyla hadn’t done her usual shopping for the pregame so you were forced to go to the party early- which Tyla actually groaned at and complained about how “embarrassing” it was. But after a few shots, that embarrassment fell away and she was back to being the funny, confident girl you knew her as.

You talked amongst the three of you, and with the two boys who were acting as bartenders, until more and more people slowly started filing in and the sky got dark. It was probably close to 10pm by the time the party really got busy, and those first two hours faded into a montage of alcohol stinging your throat and the sounds of your best friends laughing.

When the hockey team finally arrived, you were sitting on a couch with your girls, Tyla talking in this played-up sensual voice to a random boy who had taken an interest in her, while you and Jackie were busy scouting out the new arrivals and the different kinds of alcohol they placed on the table.

Even if Jackie hadn’t off-handedly mentioned it earlier, you quickly would have found out who this party was for. A large group of girls walked into the party, immediately met with cheers and shots, swarmed with alcohol and congratulations.

Some guy, probably one who actually lived in this house, whipped out a shitty megaphone and shouted their arrival, but it wasn’t even that loud.

Even you, however studious you were, knew about the girl’s hockey team. A bunch of them had played on the Olympic team a few years ago, and all the students of this D1 school were generally pretty proud that the Wisconsin team had won the most national championships.

Most of them were wearing their jerseys, but a few had dressed up. The girl’s hockey team was probably the hottest, most talented group of girls to ever be within 100 feet of you.

It was almost unfair how all of them were so beautiful and so talented, but you suppose that the rigorous workout schedules of Olympic and national athletes didn’t leave a lot of room for anything other than a fuck ton of muscles.

God, half of them towered over you and all of them could probably break your wrist with just a flick.

It was impressive.

What was most impressive, though, is the way the infamous Caroline Harvey walked in carrying about 27 cases of beer, which must have weighed as much as this fucking house, and effortlessly set it all on the ground beside the table full of red solo cups, chasers, and bottles of vodka.

Cheers rang out and people scrambled towards it, ripping the cardboard boxes open greedily and opening them just as fast.

You watched, hiding your parted mouth with your hand, as Caroline accepted an open beer from someone, cheers with a few of her teammates and drank a long sip. When she was done, she laughed and lifted her shirt to her mouth to wipe off some stray liquid, a movement that let just a sliver of her toned abs peek through.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, quickly looking to the floor and deciding hockey was your new favorite sport.

You knew her from around campus, you both liked to study in the library at the same time- around 3 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and it became kind of tradition to just stare at her for a few minutes in between sections of your work. Almost like some weird little reward. You did feel kind of bad about it, but fuck, there was no way you could stop.

Besides, it’s not like she noticed.

You always sat on opposite sides of the library, and she never once even looked in your direction. What Caroline didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and you never see her unless it’s at the library or in passing at parties. But, God, doesn’t it feel good to just relish in how beautiful she is and stare for just a bit.

“Y/N, babe.”

Jackie knocked herself into you, her knees tucked up to her chest, some sort of a smile on her face.

“What’cha doin’?” She asks, smiling in a way that can only be described as evil. “Starin’? Hockey player pique your interest, huh?”

“No,” you say, forcing a laugh into your voice and rolling your eyes. “Just lookin’ at all the commotion.”

You’re trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but now that Jackie’s mentioned it- those abs did pique your interest. And now they came flashing behind your eyes every time you blink.

“Oh, my God, I think I’m in heat,” you mumble, slightly to yourself and slightly to Jackie.

She wraps a lazy arm around your shoulder, letting out a sigh. “Oh, sweet girl, don’t worry. I’ve got you. Which one is it?”

“Caroline,” you mumble, so quiet and so sudden before you can really think about it.

Jackie hums, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t know a whole lot about her, but I heard she had a girlfriend freshman year, so definitely into girls. Not dating anyone right now, though. Olympian, hockey player, all that sexy stuff.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you mumble, sneaking a quick glance and then looking away immediately when she takes another sip of her drink, not wanting to know what would happen if you caught another glimpse of those god-sent abs.

“You gonna do somethin’ about it?” Jackie asks, nudging your head with hers.

“No, no,” you dismiss. “Just… being a freak. Admiring. God, I’m pathetic.”

Jackie laughs, abruptly standing and pulling you to your feet too. “Come on, babe, time for more drinks, let’s get your mind off of this if you’re not gonna make a move.”

You roll your eyes but follow her to the table of drinks farthest away from Caroline and the other hockey players. You’re not going to do anything, it’s not like you have a chance, and you’re just bored without schoolwork to occupy your every thought.

You take a deep breath, standing next to Jackie and surveying your options. Jackie choses for the both of you, definitely the more experienced party girl, mixing a drink that is majority vodka, making you groan slightly just at the thought of it.

“Here you go!” Jackie smiles, placing the red solo cup into your hand, smiling like she’s not trying to give you alcohol poisoning. Her gaze fixes on something behind you, and you faintly register the way her eyes light up- already a little tipsy from the few shots you’ve done- but you can’t even be bothered to question why.

You eye your drink suspiciously, mentally preparing yourself for the taste.

“Whoops,” Jackie mutters, and you look up at her only to feel her push you back.

“Jackie-” you start, angry, and she quickly scurries away from you. You want to kill her a little bit, at least question her- but you don’t get the chance to.

You gasp as you slam into someone behind you, drink splashing all over your front, alcohol mixing with the rich velvet texture of your shirt in a way that might very well ruin it. You bite your lip, glancing around the room, grateful that the room is so crowded and busy that no one noticed.

“Damn Harvey, knockin’ girls over on and off the ice,” someone laughs. You think you hear the sound of someone lightly hitting another person, followed by a small “ow.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

You turn around, Jackie nowhere to be found, and completely freeze when you realize not only did the person you slammed into have enough decency to ask if you were okay, but that person was fucking Caroline Harvey.

You would have laughed at how cliche it was if you weren’t so secretly exhilarated. The only reason you even had this drink was to stop shamefully staring at her.

But she’s right in front of you… and she looks even better like this, cheeks slightly flushed already from the alcohol, a glint in her eyes.

Her eyes meet yours, staring at you in obvious confusion and concern- “Hey? You okay?”

She places her hand on your waist and you suddenly return back into your body, looking anywhere but her eyes that were literally fucking drowning you.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp. “I-I’m fine. I’m just, like, really drunk.” You laugh, awkwardly, trying to pretend that you’re talking to just anyone. Trying to pretend like her hand on your waist wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

She smiles, Jesus Christ that fucking smile, your knees go a little weak.

“Oh, good. Would be a shame if that pretty head got a concussion.”

You laugh, staring at her smile. Intoxicating. It’s the only word that comes to mind- maybe enchanted. She’s like some drug, and, God, it’s so stupid but you think you might be addicted after hearing her voice just once.

And, the suddenly, so vividly you almost fall over again, you realize what she said to you.

“Here, let me help you,” she says, effortlessly taking the now pretty much empty red solo cup from you and placing it on the table behind you, wrapping her arm around your waist and leading you to what you assume is a bathroom, probably where she was originally going. “I’m Caroline, but you can call me KK.”

Your mouth is slightly agape as she leads you through the crowd, and you suddenly pass by Jackie who gives you a big smile and a thumbs up- disappearing into the crowd before you can curse her name.

Fuck it. She’s right in front of you. The alcohol is getting to your head, the dim lighting is making everything hazy- everything except her pretty blue eyes and her intoxicating smile.

“KK,” you say, testing the nickname. “That’s cute. I’m Y/N.”

“That’s cute,” she echoes, and the way you can hear the smile on her voice seriously makes you almost fall over.

Thankfully, the bathroom she leads you to is kind of out of the way, it’s completely empty and the door clicks behind the two of you.

Your mood immediately deflates when you see yourself in the mirror, your top noticeably darker where sticky alcohol has sunk into the fabric.

“Fuck,” you mumble, peeling the sticky fabric from your skin.

Before you can even think to do anything, Caroline- KK- is running a random hand towel under the sink and gesturing to you. You expect her to hand it to you- but she doesn’t.

“Okay if I touch you?”

God in Heaven.

“Y-yeah,” you choke out, feeling your world literally recalibrate when she puts her hand on your shoulder- so fucking close to your neck- to keep you steady. You always thought it was the stereotype that basketball players have big hands, but apparently hockey players do too.

Her hand is really warm. This bathroom is suddenly really warm. Your cheeks are heating up, and as much as you try to tell yourself it’s from the alcohol- you know it’s not.

“Sorry,” she mumbles after a few more seconds. “I don’t think this is gonna do much. Maybe try putting it in the wash, though.”

You sigh, now turned sideways, hip to the bathroom sink, looking at yourself out of the corner of your eye.

“It’s fine, my friend… bumped into me, and then I backed up straight into you. Not your fault.”

You look up at her, realizing at this close proximity that she’s taller than you, maybe only an inch.

“I might just go home,” you sigh, feeling kind of disgusting in this nasty shirt.

A frown immediately forms on her face.

“Party’s just started, though. Can’t go home yet, baby.”

She wants you to die. She literally wants you to die. She’s secretly an assassin, and you’ve blocked out the memory of some horrible crime you’ve committed, and now she’s here to kill you by calling you baby and having the sexiest abs you’ve ever seen.

Not a bad way to go, though.

“Here,” she says, reaching up and tugging her jersey over her head, again revealing those fucking abs, and she’s left in a black tank top you didn’t even notice the first time you were staring at her abs. “Take my jersey.”

“Oh, no. I can’t, KK. I mean…”

“I was getting hot anyways, it’s good. Take it.”

It’s nicer quality than any other jersey you’ve ever touched before- nicer than the obligatory Wisconsin sweatshirt you bought at the school store.

You cough, taking it with a hand that shakes slightly, not able to look at her.

“…Thank you,” you say after a moment.

She smiles, big and goofy. “It’s no problem. Maybe you can repay me by having a drink with me, though?”

You pretend to think about it, but really you have to knock your knees together so you don’t fall to the floor in excitement.

“That’s a pretty good price.”

You finally meet her eyes, holding your breath as she stares into your eyes like they’re a lifeline.

“Yeah, a drink with my sexy self- pretty good fuckin’ deal.”

You laugh, and she takes a step back, looking you up and down in a way that literally gives you butterflies-

“I’ll let you change,” she says. “Come find me when you’re done, yeah, baby?”

“I’ll find you,” you breathe, turning around to start slipping off your shirt so she doesn’t see the way you literally bite your lip.

The jersey is huge, since they have to be to cover all the padding and gear hockey players wear, and you’re almost worried that you’d look really stupid in it- but your jean bottoms pull it together, somehow.

It smells good. It smells dark, like a forest, still with a hint of something fresh and light. Is this her perfume? You might want to bathe in it.

You still look pretty good, and your mind races, wondering if KK would compliment you in it- but someone bangs on the bathroom door.

“Y/N?!” Jackie. “Y/N? Holy fucking shit- did I just see what I think I saw?!”

Tyla quickly shouts too. “I got dragged away from a really hot guy for this!! Please tell me it’s true!!!”

You open the door wordlessly, holding your hands out wide so Jackie and Tyla can see the the jersey, the Badgers emblem.

“Ladies, hold your applause.”

“What the fuck!” Tyla screams, forcing you to turn around, then tracing a finger along your back, no doubt where Caroline’s last name is printed on. “Harvey. Fucking Caroline Harvey.”

“God, she’s so hot,” Jackie groans, and you whip around to shoot her a glare. “Calm down, jealous bitch, I mean this is hot. Fuck, does she have any friends? This red is a good color on me…”

“Well,” you smile, mirroring Jackie’s own “evil” smile from earlier, “She said to come find her and get a drink. With her.”

“A drink…” Tyla breathes. “With… fucking Caroline Harvey?”

“Fucking Caroline Harvey.”

“I think I might faint from, like, secondhand hotness.”

“Well,” Jackie starts, looking away from the jersey in awe and back at your face, “You look hot. Go over there right now, get that girl, and make out. Just- right on the couch. Fuck right on the couch.”

“I second that,” Tyla smiles, adjusting the jersey slightly. “Fuck her.”

“Okay, shut up, thanks. We’ll see where the night goes.”

“Oh, my God, I can’t even believe you’re doing this. What happened to my little studious best friend?”

“Alcohol,” you shrug, momentarily wondering if you would regret all of this the next morning- but everything is just so goddamn hazy in this frat house, and you can’t think straight, can’t think about anything other than her.

“Okay, okay,” Tyla says, grabbing your shoulders and staring into your eyes like she’s about to gift you with the greatest wisdom. “You want her to come back?”

You inhale sharply. “Maybe.”

“Okay, well, if this goes good- you gotta leave her before midnight.” She glances at her watch, “It’s 11:06 right now, flirt her and romance her, all that, but leave before midnight, got it?”

“Um… why, though?”

“To keep her guessing, to keep her thinking about you, obviously,” Tyla rolls her eyes. “Trust me girl. We’ll meet you outside at 12 and then take an Uber back, right?”

“Right,” you and Jackie both repeat.

“If you really want her, before midnight, okay?”

“Okay, okay, Tyla. I’ll meet you guys then?”

Jackie pretends to wipe a few tears away. “My girl’s all grown up.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hugging both of them quickly before disappearing into the crowd of people.

—-

You make your way towards a big couch, some armchairs, and a coffee table filled with liquor.

KK’s eyes light up when she sees you, and you notice there’s a conveniently placed empty seat right next to her, and two cups in her hands.

You don’t think anyone has noticed you wearing her jersey yet, and if someone has commented on KK’s lack of jersey, you can’t tell. You smooth it down, take a deep breath and plaster a smile on your face.

A seductive one, you hope, one like Tyla would do. And with the way she mirrors your smile with her own- except this one is just as big and goofy- you think it’s working.

“Y/N?”

Someone walks past you, then immediately stops and steps back, looking right at you.

“Yeah-?”

Oh.

“Hi, Dylan,” you mutter, smile falling from your face immediately.

“Y/N. I haven’t seen you in… forever, it feels like. How’ya been?”

“I’m fine, Dylan. I’m sorry, I’m meeting somebody, okay?” His face falls, and you feel sort of bad, so you add on “Talk soon,” to make yourself feel better.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing your arm, eyes moving from yours down to your outfit. “The fuck are you wearing? A jersey?”

“…Yes,” you say after a moment, genuinely confused until you remember how much Dylan despises sports, thinks they’re all just some popularity contest. “Okay, I’m meeting someone. Bye, Dylan.”

“Hi,” a new voice says, and you smile just a bit when you realize it’s Caroline. “I’m Caroline,” she says, ever-so politely, and it kinda makes your stomach twist. “Are you a friend of Y/N’s?”

Dylan’s eyes narrow at her. “No, I’m her ex.”

“Oh, my God,” you mumble to yourself, stepping close to Caroline. “Shut up.”

KK shoots you a look, and you can’t help but avoid your eyes. You tug your arm away from Dylan, but he doesn’t budge.

“Dylan, please,” you sigh. “I have to go, okay? Let go.”

“No, Y/N, come on-”

“Uh, I think she said let go, buddy.” She still has that same smile on her face, but your eyes flick to her exposed arms, now noticing just how much muscle is there too. There’s this glint to her smile, this edge to her voice, and you would genuinely be kinda scared if it was directed at you.

“This doesn’t involve you,” Dylan huffs. “Y/N and I need to talk- why the fuck are you going around trying to purposefully piss me off? You know I hate sports.”

“Dylan,” you start, genuinely having to take a deep breath. “We dated for a week in freshman year. Let go of me, stop embarrassing yourself, and stop talking to us.”

He stares at you, before scoffing and letting your arm drop. “You’re such a fucking bitch.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Thank you, Dylan, goodbye.” You turn around, wondering if KK is even going to be there anymore. “I’m sorry-”

“What the fuck is his problem?” She says, and you genuinely smile at the pure disgust on her face. “Seriously- what?”

“I’m sorry,” you giggle. “It’s just… you’re so, disgusted by him.”

“You aren’t?”

“Well, yeah. But I know him.”

“And I’m sorry for that. I met him once and I never want to meet him again. Weird fucking bitch.”

You laugh again, linking your arm through hers without thinking. “Thanks for trying to defend me, though. I’m sorry- he’s just… an annoying bug that won’t go away, normally he doesn’t talk to me- but I guess he was bored tonight.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry, I think we lost the seats I saved.”

You look towards the couch, now completely filled with hockey players. “It’s okay,” you hum. “We can find somewhere else. Wanna go outside?”

—-

With the hum of the party behind you, and the stream of people walking out and walking in, the little bench on the corner of the porch was shrouded in darkness, and you felt like you were just in your own little corner with KK.

You sipped on the drink she had gotten you, exchanging basic information like what majors you were taking, how many siblings you had, and al that boring stuff before she finally stopped talking and just looked at you for a moment.

“What?” you asked, wiping some of your sip from around your lips.

She smiles. “Nothing. My jersey just looks nice on you.”

“Oh,” you say, stupidly. “Really? I was worried it didn’t get the same vibe as my original fit.”

“No, I would say you look even better.”

You smile, taking another sip for confidence before you place your hand on her arm. “So, tell me about hockey. Maybe workout routines?”

She laughs. “Workout routines?”

You softly squeeze her bicep. “Well, you don’t get these by just sitting around, do you?”

She takes a sip of her drink, trying to slyly cover her face, and you smile even wider.

“No, you don’t.” When she looks back at you, there’s the faintest hint of something on her cheeks, you don’t move your hand, sinking back into that addiction of making her blush. “Mostly lifting weights, cardio, boring things.”

“M’kay, what about actual hockey? I heard you were an Olympian, right?”

She flexes her other arm, and you can see a tattoo made up of the Olympics logo, intertwining rings, on her inner bicep.

“I’m defense, number 4, and I’m basically the star of the team.”

“Really?” You laugh, pressing your thigh against hers. “Would your other teammates agree with that?”

“Ehhh, maybe don’t ask them so you stay all impressed.”

You smile, and suddenly you realize you’ve been smiling all night ever since you started talking to her. And it feels so good to smile with her, it feels so good to be all giddy, and even when Dylan was bothering you it felt good knowing she was right behind you. And it felt even better when you turned around and she was still behind you.

“Can I have your number?” You blurt out.

“Course, baby.”

You hand her your phone, feeling like a damn middle schooler with a raging crush, and she hands you hers.

You make your contact name Jersey Stealer and she laughs when she sees it, and that sound might be your favorite thing about her- second only to her abs.

You can feel the night coming to the end, but it’s a good end, a comfortable one, and there’s definitely doors unopened and words unsaid. It feels like a really sweet beginning to something really beautiful.

You check your phone, smiling at the contact name of Hockey Star and seeing the time is 11:58.

“My friends are waiting for me,” you say, almost with a grimace. The night is coming to an end but you still don’t want it to end. And like clockwork, you watch as Jackie and Tyla walk out of the party arm in arm- sneaking subtle glances all the way to the end of the driveway, eventually disappearing out of sight behind a tree.

“Oh,” she says. “No problem.”

She sounds disappointed. It makes your stomach twist yet again, to know she doesn’t want this to end as much as you do.

You both stand up and walk to the edge of the porch, down the steps and onto the concrete walkway to the driveway. Somewhere along the way, your hand had slipped into yours.

You stop where concrete meets driveway, turning around to face her. She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling of her skin on yours. It feels like an electric rush, like an addictive high.

“I’m really glad I give you a concussion.”

You laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t either.”

She looks from your lips back to your eyes, and you’re suddenly reminded that, yes, kissing exists- and you suddenly want to kiss her. Badly.

Fuck.

“Okay, well, I’ll let you go.”

You softly place your hand on her face. You lean forward, placing your lips in a grey area between her cheek and her lips.

“Goodnight, Caroline,” you whisper, an inch away from her skin.

Suddenly she surges forward, lips fully pressing against yours, hand on your waist, and God does the feeling of her lips on yours feel so good, so right.

Oh, God. She’s succeeded in killing you, you think to yourself- everything fading out for a moment before it all comes rushing back in. The sounds of the party, the chill of the nighttime air, and the sweet sweet feeling of Caroline’s lips on yours.

You don’t think your lips will ever recover from this feeling, from the weight of her lips on yours- you’ll always be chasing this feeling, this moment.

Tyla’s words flash in your mind. You revel in this moment for a heartbeat longer until, just as quick as she kissed you, you pull back.

“Didn’t know you were the type to kiss girls on the first date, Harvey. How scandalous.”

She seems disappointed you pulled away. You can see it in her pretty blue eyes- it makes you feel like you’re on top of the world.

“Are you really just any girl?”

“Nope,” you smile, silently thanking Tyla and every star in the sky- you can see it in her eyes, the way she wants to kiss you senseless, and if the game didn’t feel so good you would have let her.

And the way she’s looking at you, slightly blown away, completely in awe, lips parted but curling into a smile- it gives you an addictive rush.

“Text me when you want your jersey back.”

You take a step back, softly prying her hand off of your waist, but holding onto it for a moment.

“Oh, no, you can wear that to my next game.”

“Really?” You smile, fingertips grazing the back of her knuckles as she tries to hold onto you, but you eventually let go. “You’ll save me a good seat?”

“The best seat,” she corrects. “For the best girl.”

This time, you don’t bother to try and hide the way she makes you feel. You clench your thighs together and let your tongue dart out to slightly lick your lips.

“I’ll be there. You better win, though.” You turn around, then look over your shoulder to see her eyes fall down to your ass.

“With a pretty good luck charm like you? I’ll probably score the winning goal.”

“Bye, Caroline,” you say over your shoulder, smiling so brightly you’re sure you look all lovesick. You can’t care, it’s just how you feel for her. Maybe you should be embarrassed, the way she makes you feel kinda like silly putty in her hands, but it feels so good. So right.

“Bye, Y/N.” Her voice is breathy.

And when you check your phone, you see it’s after midnight. So much for Tyla’s advice.

But, you think to yourself, shoes clicking on concrete and KK’s gaze on your back, you kissed her after midnight- maybe all the good things just happen after midnight.

—-

laila when kk hit her for saying the taking girls down on and off the ice thing: 😞😞😞💔💔💔💔💔

y/n also being happy that she left kk AFTER midnight bc she doesn’t just want her she actually likes her

jackie and tyla wingwoman supremes i love them sm

dylan you are annoying i wish you suffering

#caroline harvey #caroline harvey x reader #kk harvey #kk harvey x reader #ncaa hockey x reader

493 notes · View notes

sturnsdarling · 3 months ago

Text

teenage dirtbags, part two

Skater!Matt goes to overachiever!readers dorm so she can help him with his essay

vibe check: bickering, matt fancying the fuck out of reader but being unaware, reader being a snob, kind of flirting? idk if you can call it that lol.

1.7k words

A/N: this is so FUN. in my head, Matt has always secretly thought reader was gorgeous, but any and all good natured feelings were swallowed by an avalanche of irritation and borderline hatred

intro, part one, part three

love and cigs, merc

You were sat on the floor of your dorm, clad in a big knit jumper, little shorts and fluffy socks, cross legged on the carpet with a pencil dangling from your mouth as you scanned the margins of some 19th century text about the French Revolution.

You were pulled from your focus by the sound of your door rattling, three short knocks sounding through your room over the low hum of your record playing in the back.

You looked to your watch, 7:03, Matt was actually on time.

You pushed yourself up off the floor and made your way over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open with a less than welcoming look on your face. You were met with Matt, board in hand and headphones hung round his neck, a flat grin on his face that quickly dropped.

Matt couldn't help but scan your figure, he'd never seen you in anything other than your clean cut outfits, so seeing you in a baggy jumper that hung off your bare shoulder and shorts that just covered your ass was, interesting.

"come in" you said, pulling Matt from his accidental objectifying gaze and stepping to the side to let him in.

"thanks" Matt said as he walked past you, taking in the sight of your room, it actually did smell like vanilla and academic over achievement.

You had more books than he had ever seen in his entire life, the walls covered by rows of bookshelves all packed to the brim with classic literature.

"this is a lot of books" Matt said, gawking at your collection.

You nodded, lips tucked between your teeth as you raised your brows slightly.

"have you read all of these?" Matt asked, pointing at the shelves.

you scoffed with a smile, "no" you shook your head, "just over half, probably"

"that's still impressive" Matt shrugged, dropping his stuff on the floor.

"should we get started?" You said, wanting to cut the small talk and get this over with.

"yeah, sure" Matt said, following your movement and sitting on the floor opposite you, pulling a bunch of crumpled up notes from his bag.

You looked at them in disgust as he tried to flatten them out on the floor, shaking your head as you got up, scanning over your shelves to find anything you had on existentialism. You pulled a few books out and returned to the floor, opening them and scanning over the pages. Your movement grabbed Matts attention, him watching you intently as you began to rip through all the possible approaches he could take, listing off essay summaries as if you knew them like the back of your hand.

Matt wasn't listening, mostly because he had no idea what you were talking about, but also because your hair was falling in your face slightly as you leaned down to scan the books, the strands framing your face perfectly as you spoke with your plump, glossy lips. Matt noticed the small constellation of freckles on your nose, how your eyes darted around the room as you spoke, as if you were literally searching your brain for information, how your brows knit together every time you said 'obviously' and how...what the fuck is going on

"are you even listening?" you snapped, pulling matt from his haze.

"huh?" he said, meeting your glaring eyes, "yeah, yeah, I'm listening" Matt said, shaking the thoughts from his brain.

"because I don't have to do this for you, you know that right? I have much better things to be doing with my time and you're honestly the last person I want to spent my evenings helping" you began to complain, your tone cocky and fed up

"charming" Matt scoffed, "trust me, y/l/n, you're not exactly someone I want to be spending my evenings with either" Matt quipped back, matching your cadence.

"right, well, maybe if you listen to me, this can go a lot faster, and we can go back to pretending we don't know each other" you said with finality.

"fine" Matt shrugged, holding your eye contact

"fine" you repeated, having to get the final word

Matt chuckled, shaking his head with a slight eye roll. You squinted at him, scrunching your face up as his attitude.

"what?" you spat.

Matt couldn't help but grin, "you haven't changed at all" He met your gaze once more.

"what are you talking about?" you said, your voice thick with attitude.

"you always have to have the last word" Matt shifted where he sat, bringing his knee up as a rest for his arm.

"no, I don't" you replied with a scoff.

"yeah, you do" Matt grinned, nodding.

"no, I don't" you pushed.

Matt didn't respond, only raised his eyebrows and tightened his smile, looking at you in an accusatory manner, as if you responding the way you did only proved his point.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and returning your attentions to the book in your lap, "lets just get this over and done with"

The rest of the night went...fine. There was some bickering, mostly started by Matt not listening or simply being himself. You ended up getting his introduction done before you decided it was time to take a break, needing to decompress from all the arguing.

You and Matt sat in silence, you fidgeting with your pen as you scanned over what Matt had written and Matt wandering around your room like a lost puppy, in his search through all your things, his attention was caught by the crates of records that looked as if they were holding up your mattress.

There were hundreds of them, all in alphabetical order, stacked on top of each other in the makeshift bed frame you had made with the crates. Matt scanned the names, in awe of the fact that not only did you collect music, but it was good music. Maybe you did have something in common.

"are these all yours?" Matt said, unable to take his eyes off your collection.

You looked up from the page, looking over to Matt who was crouched on the floor, peppering soft touches with his long, slender fingers over the spines of the records.

"who else's would they be?" you said, raising a brow at him as he looked over his shoulder at you.

"this is an impressive collection, y/l/n" Matt said, ignoring your attitude.

"thanks" you cocked your eyes to the side, generally irritated by him regardless of what he said.

"I didn't know you fucked with music like this" Matt returned his attention to the stacks, "maybe you're not as lame as I thought you were" he looked back to you with a boyish grin

You screwed your face up at him, giving him the biggest condescending smile you could muster up. Matt cheesed at your face, looking back to the music and scanning some titles.

"oh shit, Fleetwood Mac, I fuckin' love them" Matt said, pulling out the Rumours album and turning it over to read the track list, "still not as good as their self titled album from 75" Matt shook his head, putting the record back in its spot.

"are you serious?" you scoffed, "Rumours is easily their best album"

"absolutely not" Matt shook his head, sitting back down opposite you.

you simply stared at him for a moment, trying to process your bafflement, "In what universe is self titled better than Rumours?" you put the page in your hand down, leaning your palm on the floor so your body was towards Matt, your movement causing your jumper to fall down your shoulder slightly lower.

"In this universe?" Matt chuckled, "self titled has Rhiannon and Monday morning" He shifted, one leg tucked beneath him with the other acting as a perch for his arm, knee in the air with his foot on the carpet.

"and Rumours has the chain?" You pressed, "and dreams"

"okay, and?" Matt shrugged with a grin, drawing out his first word.

"you can't be serious?" you shook your head, "Rumours is incredible, you can literally feel the tension between the band with every sentence they sing, the energy is on a different level"

"so the album is good because everyone was beefing? how does that correlate to good music" Matt pushed, only slightly relishing in how worked up you we're getting.

"because?" you scoffed, "it's real, and raw, and the live shows were insane"

"you don't think self titled was real and raw?" Matt raised his brows at you.

"no, idiot, I didn't say that" you rolled your eyes, "rumours is just different, it was like all the anger from everything that happened was spilling out over the sheet music, it was...beautiful" your eyes wandered the ceiling as you explained your reasoning to Matt.

He couldn't help but smile as he looked at you, watching you speak so passionately about something other than how much you despised him was awe inducing, especially something like music, which he would have never have pegged you to care about this much.

You continued to argue your point, but the feeling of Matts eyes on you made your cheeks warm, and you stopped your rambling to look at him.

"what?" you deadpanned, cocking your eyes to the side quickly.

Your change in tone snapped Matt back into reality, and he was quickly reminded of who he was gawking at.

He cleared his throat, "nothing" he dropped his gaze from you, searching the floor for something to pay attention to other than the strange feeling in his stomach.

You furrowed your brows at him, watching the top of his head as he clearly tried to avoid eye contact with you at all costs. what the fuck was that about? you decided not to look into it too much.

"lets carry on, yeah?" Matt said, opening the book in his lap and clearing his throat once more.

"alright" you said, ignoring the tension in the air and returning your attention to the paper in your lap.

You spent the rest of the evening in silence, only talking if you really needed to and staying a good five feet apart at all times. Matt left once you had finished the outline for the body of his essay, still not looking at you for any longer than a second and hurrying out your room moments after you said that you could pick where you had left off tomorrow.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour @sofieeeeex @ncm9696 @lovesturni0l0s @pepsicola-pussy @ifwdominicfike @dani-sturn @stupendousjellyfishpost @aesthetixhoe @sturn-rose @mattsnronebitch @chriscorqutte @elizasturn @ribread03 @st7rnioioss @maggieflms

#©sturnsdarling #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets #Spotify

269 notes · View notes

lacy-oh-lacy · 1 year ago

Text

Property of Jennifer ･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Jennifer's Body Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Jennifer Check x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: Jennifer fingers you under the table while you're on a date... with someone else.

CW: DubCon, Toxic!Jennifer, Jealous!Jennifer, hidden-public, exhibitionism?, fingering, mention of spanking, reader goes on a date with a guy (the scene still makes sense if you're not into guys though)

Adam was the worst kind of jock stereotype. A total idiot. Somewhat charming until anything didn’t go his way. A guy who made it his goal in life to sleep with as many women as possible and then slut-shamed the few he actually got under his belt.

He wasn’t your type in more ways then one, yet on a Friday night you could’ve spent doing anything else… you were sitting across from him at a shitty diner, helping him stumble through small talk.

You blamed Jennifer entirely.

If she hadn’t of fucked and ghosted you AGAIN, you wouldn’t of been so desperate to get her out of your system that you’d say yes to the first loser to ask you out.

Adam wasn’t your main concern at that moment though. Your main concern was the devil herself, striding into the diner you knew she hated in the shortest skirt she owned …and for the first time in a week she was looking right at you.

Your attention had been wavering all night but you must of been obvious that time because Adam checked over his shoulder, following your gaze and catching sight of Jennifer a second before she arrived at your booth.

“Oh my god, hi!”

That valley-girl voice of hers made your heart flutter but you knew to raise your guard.

“Jennifer, hi… what are you doing here?”

She laughed, a plastic sound. “I could ask you the same thing.”

The thought of deflecting as skilfully as she had done was appealing, but instead you ripped the Band-Aid off. You were done caring about what she thought.

“I’m on a date actually.”

The strain in her smile wouldn’t be noticeable if you weren’t watching her reaction so carefully.

“Oh, where’s your date?” She looked around, eyes very obviously passing over the man in front of you.

Oof. You didn’t exactly like the guy but you felt a secondhand sting at that. Cringing, you shot Adam an apologetic look as he waved a hand to get her attention.

“Uhh that’d be me.”

“Oh!”

Despite her passive-aggressive tone, her big glossed smile softened the blow. It made it hard to be mad at her. At least it did until she turned her head away from him to mouth “yikes.”

Suddenly she sat down cramped against you, hand dropping to your thigh. “Well I’m just waiting on my own date. Mind if I sit with you guys for a few minutes?”

You didn’t know what made you tenser, wondering where the hell she was going with this or the hand caressing your thigh.

“Well, like I said we’re on a date. So actually-“

Said date cut you off as he leered, slack-jawed at Jennifer. “It’s fine. What’s a few minutes?“

You gritted your teeth, mind badgering you with images of all the other places you could’ve been that night. “Why do you even want to sit here?”

She groaned. “He said it’s fine. Take a chill pill.”

Jennifer’s words were accompanied by a squeeze to your thigh and you jumped. It didn’t hurt but you felt your skin buzz under her touch, heat spreading low in your stomach.

Jennifer’s attention seemed to go back to Adam but that didn’t stop her from keeping yours with her hand inching up your skirt.

“So, I didn’t catch your name.”

He frowned, a crack in his horny haze. “Are you serious? Adam… We sat together in chem?”

“Okay, geez, don’t go stalker-boy on me.”

Her tone was just light enough to let the comment slide, but you could almost physically feel the mood slowly sinking.

She turned to you, face too innocent to have her hand so close to your privates. “What about you, how’d you two meet? Was he hanging outside your house with binoculars and a stiffy?”

“We also met in chem.” He answered for you. His tone was dryer, welcome already wearing thin.

Apparently Adam’s ego was the one thing stronger than his libido.

Unlike yours. Jennifer’s wandering hand was dangerously close to making you forget that you were even mad at her.

“I’m sorry, was I asking you?” She leant into you, ‘whispering’ at a volume you were sure the next table over could hear. “Does he always talk over you like that?”

The question and the underlying insult went over your head. Feeling Jennifer’s breath on your neck clouded your brain and feeling the tip of her finger begin dragging up your slit through your panties short-circuited it.

Fortunately a waitress came over, putting a pause on the tension at the table. Unfortunately that was when Jennifer’s finger reached your clit.

Your eyelashes fluttered and you bit your lip to keep back a moan. This was way too risky. The waitress would move on from Adam to one of you any second.

“What are you doing?” You hissed against Jennifer’s ear.

Unfazed she whispered back. “You’re lucky I’m not bending you over my knee.”

Then she turned back, looking the picture of innocence when the waitress addressed her.

“Anything for you, Dear?”

The woman looked so demure and unassuming. You had no idea how Jennifer could look her in the eye while drawing circles on your clit.

“Actually she’s only staying a few-“ Adam started.

“I’ll take a coffee.” Jennifer interrupted, smiling brightly.

“It’s a little late. Do you want that decaf?”

“No. I’m not planning on doing much sleeping tonight.” The subtext in that sentence embarrassed you enough but then Jennifer turned to you. “You want anything else? My treat.”

That sent the waitresses gaze your way and your face burned. You really didn’t want a stranger looking at you right now.

“No thanks.”

You cursed your squeaky, cracking voice and averted your eyes as quickly as possible.

Even with your awkward position limiting her, it was like Jennifer’s touch electrified you. An overwhelming pleasure followed her fingertips and you could only swallow your reactions to it for so long.

As the waitress went on her way Jennifer tugged at your panties and mindlessly taking the cue you raised your hips just enough for her to pull them to your knees.

That was when Adam’s focus returned to the two of you and you startled, realising what the fuck you were doing.

He was totally gonna catch you!

But then Jennifer’s fingers pushed inside of you, curving and making you see stars, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You could only spread your legs wider and silently pray you didn’t look as wrecked as you felt.

“Okay, I’m sorry, how long were you planning on staying? Don’t you have a date coming?” Adam huffed.

“Yeah.” She looked slyly at you “any second now.”

You writhed in your seat. Embarrassment, guilt and so much lust created a boiling hot cocktail inside of you.

“Whatever.” He sighed, leaning back in his seat and staring at the ceiling.

Jennifer snuck her other hand under the table and you gasped loudly at sudden, rough friction against your clit.

Sure enough that caught other patrons attention. As people glanced at you you didn’t know what you wanted more… to cum or for the earth to open up and swallow you whole.

“Hey, you good?” Adam asked.

“Yeah… yeah, just um, water went down the wrong pipe.”

You hadn’t touched your glass since Jennifer showed up but you trusted he wouldn’t of payed enough attention to know that.

“You should be more careful.” Jennifer said, tone loaded in way that made you squirm.

It was really, really hard to be careful with the high she was working you into. It was too much, the way she massaged your g-spot while three flat fingers rubbed quickly over your pussy.

Hellish heat overtook you as she brought you over the edge. It took everything in your power to keep your mouth shut, face pointing down to hide your shame.

You gripped the table like a lifeline as pulse after pulse of pleasure rocked your body. Her touch became almost overstimulating.

You felt Jennifer’s breath on your ear before you heard her silky, hushed voice “You’re mine. Got it? Don’t forget that again.”

Cool air hit your warm centre as she pulled out and you nodded eagerly. Thrumming with the aftershocks of orgasm you barely registered Adam’s voice.

“Hey what’s up with all the whispering? I swear, you’d think you were on a date with Jennifer.”

#jennifer check x reader #jennifer check smut #jennifer check #smut #jennifer's body #slashers #slashers smut #slashers x reader #wlw smut #notsfw

1K notes · View notes

blkkizzat · 1 year ago

Text

summary: After a really shitty blind date you end up lashing out at a sexy stranger, sarcastically posing him a question he's more than willing to answer. a/n: Toji got me feral as fuck today y'all but I make zero apologies. Especially for this trifling ass gif because wtf else was I supposed to do after watching this scene, who isn't thinking this is the real question!?!? wc: 3.1k over 2.1k of it is literally just Toji being a munch

eta- put a cute frame over the gif ❤︎

You were sitting alone in a dive bar after a sorry ass excuse of a blind date. Drowning your sorrows you definitely needed something stronger than the seltzers in your fridge at home.

Things on your date were going well until the end of the night when the conversation turned frisky. You then whispered into your date’s ear that you wanted to ride his face.

That's when your date’s actual face turned to repulsion. Your blind date flat out said eating pussy was gross and refused.

You had dealt with previous boyfriends not wanting to go down on women so you weren't dealing with that shit again.

Nuh-uh. No way.

After not-so-politely telling him to kindly go and fuck himself you grabbed your purse and walked right the hell out of there.

And here you are now.

Alone.

At a sketchy ass dive bar that was mostly emptied.

Three shots of tequila in and a fourth setting on the table waiting for the room to stop spinning before you down it and go home.

Your head was resting on the cool bar countertop as you cursed the entire male species for their existence.

Selfish jerks. Every single one of them.

That would be the last date you would go on in a while. The only man you wanted to see was the bartender when he handed you another shot of tequila and then he could go fuck off too.

So when you felt a large hand on your lower back and a gruff but seductive 'Hey mamas' blowing hot air in your ear you fucking lost it and the full wrath of your scorn and sarcasm was directed at this man.

"LISTEN, I've just had a really shitty blind date. I just want to take this last shot of tequila, stuff my face with KFC and go home. So unless the answer is 'Yes' to the question 'Do you eat pussy?' Get the fuck out of my face, please and thank you!"

You didn’t care who heard your drunken tirade as you lifted your head to face the punching bag for all your current male frustrations.

Your jaw dropped.

The man who stood beside you looked like he walked straight out of Greek mythology. He was tall and muscular with tan skin and his black compression shirt stuck to him like a second skin giving you a detailed view.

Shit he must be a boxer, or a martial artist or something. There was really no other excuse for a man to be that ripped.

You chewed your lip as your eyes slowly trailed up his body, drinking in his statuesque form to finally arrive at his face framed with shaggy raven hair.

Fuck he is really hot too.

The man, although sexy, looked intimidating as hell as he towered over you.

You winced as you thought you were in for it with his response and you started to already form an apology in your head.

But instead of anger the man just looked down at you with amused knowing eyes as he allowed you to ogle him.

He also wore an insanely devious smirk, his scar pulling up at the corner of his mouth.

“Heh.”

From that point things were a bit of a blur as he snatched up and downed your shot of tequila, grabbed your arm and led you away to the back with you barely having time to grab your purse.

You only registered what was happening once your back hit the cold tile of the bathroom wall and saw this sexy mysterious man lower himself to his knees before you.

His large muscular hands trailed all over your body, never leaving you.

"W-What are you doing!?"

You didn't know what to think, this was all happening so fast.

Was this intimidating but sexy as fuck man that you just met, yelled at and didn't even know his name, about to eat you out!?

"Heh, I’m answering your question, mamas."

The man spread your legs at the ankles, not even bothering to lift up the skirt of your dress. Choosing instead to just stick his head right up in there, letting the fabric drape over him.

"Wait at least tell me your na–"

Your sentence was cut short as you gasped at the sensation of his nose pressing into your clit through your black laced panties.

The man wiggled his nose against your clit like he was giving it eskimo kisses. He then salaciously took a huge whiff of your scent through his nostrils and puffed out the large exhale of warm moist breath directly over your cunt sending tingles through your body.

"Fuck, who wouldn’t want to taste this sweet slutty cunt?"

He mumbled, making the comment more to himself than you but your legs still shook slightly from the vulgar compliments and vibrations of his voice in your pussy.

You were practically purring now. You could feel the surge of heat and need rushing over your body spreading out from your core.

Especially now as his tongue was dragging up the thin lace of your panties and stopped to suck at your clit through the textured material.

It felt absolutely wild.

“F-Fuck!”

You moaned loudly and quickly covered your mouth with your hand.

His hands slid up your dress to roughly dig into your hips and pull your pelvis more forward as he smashed his face into your cunt.

Your last bit of reason was telling you to stop him. You didn’t know him at all and what if someone walked in and saw you both?

However, once you feel the man’s mouth grab the hem of your panties and drag them down your legs to remove them by his teeth alone, your common sense was discarded as well.

You exhaled as you threw your head back in resignation, missing how he slyly pocketed your black lace panties once he finally had them off of you. He would be taking those with him.

You looked down at him as he rose up again, pulling up your dress. He placed a chaste kiss on the mound of your now completely exposed pussy as you squirmed in excitement under him.

“Y’er gonna be a good girl f’er me n’ do what I say, so I can eat this slutty pussy out the way she deserves, eh?”

The cocky smirk on his face never left and he reached both hands around to grasp both your plump ass cheeks, kneading them and enjoying the way your soft flesh squeezed through his fingers.

“Y-Yeah, uh-huh, I’ll be good. I p-promise.”

You breathed out those words too rapidly causing you to realize how needy and desperate you sounded. Your hips involuntarily bucked towards him and you became pliant in his hands.

God, you were nearly begging him with your entire body at this point.

But the fact was you would be begging him anyway if for some reason he found some good sense and decided this was all way too crazy to be happening right now.

Fortunately for you, you apparently stumbled on the fairy fucking godfather of pussy eating appearing seemingly out of nowhere and who clearly didn’t give a single fuck as to where he was.

His eyes looked crazed and his grin widened at your consent. He released your cheeks to roll up your dress further.

He gave it to you, but not for you to hold with your hands but with your mouth.

“Bite down on this f’er me, yeah? Heh, wouldn’t want to draw a crowd from your screams.”

Of course he is arrogant too.

You rolled your eyes but were obedient. You were too caught up in the thrill of what was happening to disobey him and have him stop.

You bit down on the bunched designer fabric.

“That’s a good little slut f’er me.”

He mockingly praised you and gave an abrupt slap to your ass.

You whimpered around the fabric.

You really didn’t understand why you just couldn’t use your hands though, but you soon found out as he threw both of your legs over his shoulders.

Your hands were needed to brace yourself, that much became obvious to you as they flew to the wall behind. You grasped for any kind of stability you could find on the slick tile so you wouldn’t topple over.

His strong wide hands wrapped around your thighs and brought your dripping core closer to his face.

A barely audible ‘Itadakimasu’ was all the warning you got before you felt his flat heavy tongue dig into your cunt.

“S-Shiiiiiiiiit!”

Exploring your pussy like uncharted territory he took his time to lap, slurp and swirl his way through, roaming in the intoxicating folds of your cunt. A fast learner, he noted what made your body twitch, your leg shake or an extra hitch in the deep moans that escaped you through the fabric in your mouth.

Wanting to hear you scream, he swiped his canine over your clit before he traced his tongue over the bud and sucked hard.

Mission accomplished as your muffled scream came through the fabric of your dress and a hand of yours left the wall to find purchase in his hair, pulling on it hard.

He growls into your pussy with approval when he feels the harsh tug on his black strands and continues working you over, pulling all sorts of vulgar noises from you as he slobbers and spits into your cunt.

The man was fucking nasty the way he devoured you like it was his last meal on death row.

“S-so, close-ahh!”

Your muffled voice told him but the man could already tell by the way your thighs had enclosed around his head, twitching against him while suffocating him deeper into your core.

The tension that wound itself into a coil in your stomach reached his limits and it finally broke when you felt his canine swipe against your clit a second time.

Your cries choked out as they clumsily made their way out of your mouth still stuffed with your drool soaked dress.

You quivered and gushed into his mouth, eyes rolling back and your other hand found its way into his hair. Wrenching his locks in between your manicured fingers as if you intended to scalp him from how hard you were twisting.

That only served to encourage his efforts however as he slurped up your juices more fiercely. You clawed at him to release you but you might as well had steel around your body as neither his bulky muscular arms nor thick head budged.

Fuck its too much!

Finally pulling black with a pop he smacked his lips and exhaled an ‘ahhh’ as if he was taking a pause from stuffing himself with a delicious meal.

“This cunt is so fucking creamy, need some more of ‘er.”

You shook your head as tears welled in your eyes at the sight of him salivating over your puffy pussy lips glistening with the combined fluids of your cum and his spit.

“Mm, you want me to stop? But she doesn’t want me to.”

His thick tongue flattened to take painfully slow licks over your slit, the man’s fierce green eyes never leaving yours as they flared with primal urges.

You never had someone aggressively eat you out like this, not to mention actually enjoy it this much.

This man was fucking insane.

“Let’s ask this slutty pussy what she want’s, eh?”

The man tilted your pelvis up, lifting your lower back off the wall so he could move close to your hole that was fluttering, shamelessly clenching around nothing.

“See that, ma? She’s winking at me, inviting me in. How can I say no?”

He sounded absolutely unhinged as he slowly extended his tongue to push up into you.

Your muffled sobs were drowned out by the erotic squelching sounds of your cunt echoing off the tile walls.

He accelerates you to the point of overstimulation with such vigor that you easily cum on his tongue again for a second time.

This time your legs trembled more violently and your heels dug into his back causing him to grunt deeper into your pussy. The sharp digging of your heels into his back did nothing to discourage him as his tongue fucked further into your hole without mercy.

All you could do was wither in his clutches as he rolled his tongue inside you throughout the high of your second orgasm.

You were panting and your jaw became slack as you slowly lost the ability to hold your dress in your mouth any longer. Releasing it along with a well of drool that once freed, overflowed down the corners of your mouth to drip down your neck and chest along with your tears.

“One more mama, I know this slutty pussy can give me that at least... Tch, and take off that dress if ya ain’t gonna hold it, ya? Let’s see those pretty tiddies, eh?”

The man’s distasteful and outright crass words should have turned you off.

But his filthy tongue not only drains you of your juices but also any kind of restraint or decency you had left. His brash words only make you all the more aroused.

Obeying him once more, you rid yourself of the dress pulling it up and over your head, not caring where it landed.

You would rather it off than in your mouth anyway. Opting to not wear a bra with this dress you were now naked save for your heels.

“Nice tits.”

You rolled your eyes as his crass compliment but wore a small grin yourself as you playfully shook your shoulders allowing them to jiggle down at his face.

He chuckled at your display but his voice quickly turned devious again.

“Make sure y’er holding on tight this time, eh?”

You strengthen your grip on his raven locks but you still weren’t prepared for when he rose up off the ground entirely to stand, completely shouldering your weight.

“ACK!!”

The altitude change wasn’t something you expected. He held you up off the wall like you weighed nothing to him and although you felt secure around the lower half of your body, an arm still flailed around for balance.

Thankfully, you discovered you could hold on to the pipes that hung from the low ceiling yet it creaked as you held on.

Shit, you hoped it would hold.

Seeing you secure yourself the man wasted no time enveloping your cunt with his hot mouth. The gravity of your weight pushing down your core on his mouth had him more needy for air and you felt the pulses that rocked through you from his rough exhales with fervor.

“Fuckfuckfuck!”

It proved to be much more difficult to keep your cries of pleasure contained. But you bit your lip to try to suppress yourself into a whine instead of a scream.

Although that all went to shit once you saw the reflection of the two of you in the dirty floor to ceiling bathroom mirror.

You could still clearly see your forms and the way you looked. Your face completely blissed out, sweating and panting as the mad man did everything but rest while he was between your legs, circling and suckling as if he personally challenged himself to drain all the fluids from your body.

You tighten your hold on the pipe and experimentally roll your hips forward and your other hand, threaded behind his head through his thick hair pulls him closer as well.

“G-God-f-fuck-shiiiiit!”

You didn’t care who the fuck heard you this time, as you watched yourself in the mirror thrust your hips forward to fuck deeper into his face, building up a rhythm.

Your tits bounced up higher with your back arched as your mouth hung open spilling out curses, cries and moans alike. The scene was better than a porno, so hot, so feral, you half wished someone was recording this.

Absolutely loving the thought of you losing yourself to his depravity and you taking on a more aggressive role, the man growled with approval once more into your cunt as his tongue continued to unravel you.

Your movements became more frantic as you could feel your third and most intense orgasm yet approaching. He eagerly relinquishes more control to you as he allows you to grind his face farther into your pussy.

You shuddered as you felt a shock of electricity wreck your entire being, assaulting all of your senses with the feeling of pure ecstacy. Your toes ached from the intensity of their curling in your heels and your mind only filled with the sounds of the sloppy gurgling noises from the man below you literally being smothered by your cunt as you rut into him.

It wasn’t just the cheap fluorescent lights of the bathroom eye-level with you when white filled your vision and you felt yourself release to convulse and squirt all over the man’s face.

If you weren’t holding onto the pipe above for dear life, you’re sure you would have fallen.

After a few moments the man easily shifted his hold to your waist and brought your feet back to touch the ground. However, you were still more than a bit shaky and a few steps backwards had you bumping into the wall and sliding down to the floor.

Your fluids leak out into a small puddle on the ground between your sticky thighs.

The man whose name you still didn’t know slicked his hair back into place as he glanced down at you, disheveled and heaving on the floor.

“Gochisosama, mama.”

He smirked even with his face completely drenched with your nectar. He brazenly circled his tongue around his lips and corners of his mouth to greedily lap up any of you remaining that he could before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Name’s Fushiguro. Toji. Heh, and yeah ma as ya now know, I do eat pussy.”

You gave a weak chuckle at that but your eyes were glossed over and you were fading a bit. You can’t recall the last time you came that hard at all, let alone from just getting your pussy ate.

“Now, I gotta question, ma.”

Your body, still vibrating with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm has left you non-verbal so you simply nodded your head for Toji to continue.

Toji crouches down to your level which reveals his monstrous and fully bricked cock straining through his sweats.

Your eyes widen when you see it and you knew then everything about this man named Toji Fushiguro was fucking ridiculous, in both size and demeanor.

Lifting your chin so you could look him directly in his eyes, Toji slid his thumb over on your bottom lip.

The appendage bullied its way past your lips and pressed down on your tongue. Your mouth opened wide and he inspected you like he was a doctor examining the back of your throat.

Pleased with what he saw, Toji gave you a shit eating grin.

“You swallow kids?”

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

a/n: Istg I'm working on part 2 of Werewolf!Toji but theres no pussy eating in that and he needed to eat some pussy today. I deserve that and y'all deserve that too.

So here. Come and let our feral hunger feast together as Toji feasts on us.

11/4: a quick afterthought of what happened next.

Reblog to spread the depravity as everyone needs to have this crazy ass header pop-up on their timeline lmfao. But likes and comments are appreciated all the same!

tags of depravity please don't send me away for this one: @callm3senpaii @ryomens-vixen

2K notes · View notes

yameoto · 1 year ago

Text

TOP TEN BENEFITS. JORDAN, CATE, ANDRE.

synopsis ; you and godolkin's finest go out for some fun, just like any other night. little do you know, is that they have a little more in store for you than just partying.

oh. also, you're luke's girlfriend—not like that's going to stop them.

✗ warnings ; dark!jordan, dark!cate, dark!andre, cnc, dubcon, intox, foursome, cheating, strap-fucking. wc ; 1.9k

DISTANTLY, you can hear voices. you're not sure, really; your head's all dizzy and groggy, and your mouth is so dry you wonder if you’ve been chewing on cement. god.. you really can’t remember anything. how strong were those drinks?

"we sure about this, guys?" comes a voice, echoing on the outskirts of your mind. it's familiar. masculine.. or feminine? you really can't tell—not in this state, at least.

"of course we're sure." someone else interjects, gruffer, this time, clearly masculine. it sounds a lot like.. andre..?

"i mean, look at her," whispers another, voices so low—like they're trying not to wake you. this one's higher, more feminine and— oh that's definitely cate. "how could we not?"

how could they not what? nothing makes sense—not in your foggy, hungover brain at least; one that you're becoming increasingly suspicious is addled by something stronger than shots. but that can't be right—you hadn't blown lines with the others, had you? no, you definitely hadn't. so why does your head hurt so fucking much?

"guys..?" you mumble, trying to sit up on what you distantly realise is a bed, the edges of your vision still blurry. as it adjusts, you're met with the sight of jordan, andre and cate all standing over you, eyes strangely lidded, gleaming. "shit— she's up," jordan hisses, grip on your thigh tightening, and its then that you realise your skirt is gone—the entire stretch of your legs exposed to the three of them.

"fuck," cate sighs, lips drawing into a pout as you feel her hand, bare hand, hover over your other thigh, head jerking up to face the others with a frown on her lips. "should i do it again?"

"no," jordan and andre hiss in unison, exchanging a meaningful look as their fingers twitch, restless. "c'mon, you know you want her awake for this."

"awake for what?" you grumble, head throbbing far too much for you to wrap your head around the conversation. "i'm too hungover for this." you swing your legs off the edge of the bed, reaching for your discarded skirt before two pairs of her hands shoot out to stop you. your vision swims, and with a disconcerting lurch you realise you're so fucked-up you can't even tell whose is who's.

"you won't need that." jordan mutters, breath hot against your cheek as they curl their hand around your wrist, dragging it firmly into their lap. what the fuck?

"sorry about the skirt," cate hums affirmatively, eyes drifting to the poor, ripped thing on the floor and you swear you see the beginnings of a smirk curl her lips "someone got a little excited."

"hey—" andre puts his hands up, not looking too sorry at all. in fact, he looks like he's barely restraining a grin. "don't act like you two weren't drooling—"

"touché." jordan interjects, eyes rolling yet looking entirely too pleased with themselves as they play with your hand in their lap, inching it up their own thigh. “you look better without it, doll.”

"warm her up, jordan." cate's eyes flash, gaze boring into the sight of you, splayed against the pillows, and you resist the urge to whimper.

"don't tell me what to do," jordan grumbles, but there's a grin stretching at their lips and you almost wonder if cate used her powers with the speed in which they comply. their loose grip on your wrist becomes inordinately tight as they deftly undo their belt, dragging their pants and boxers down in one, swift move.

oh, fuck.

"hold on— i—" you splutter, stupidly, glancing between the three of them and jordan's throbbing, leaking cock. it gently bobs into your hand; head pink, glistening with pre-cum and you just want to—wait, what?

you're dating luke. you're dating luke. a spike of panic sends you twisting, surprisingly lucid for a moment as you attempt tugging your wrists away—to no avail, of course. top ten ranking aside; you don't stand a chance against three supes, especially not the three of them.

"hey— shh." jordan catches you, eyes flashing for a moment as they slowly, ever so slowly, guide your hand back to their cock—grunting when your fingers limply wrap around their tip. "fuck, that's it.." they groan, head tilting back. jesus fucking christ.

you don't even realise it when andre drags your panties down your thighs—and your flush only deepens at how fucking wet you are. that has to be the high, right? there's no way—why else would your cunt be dripping into the goddamn sheets, like that? for three of your friends? boyfriend absent from the room, no less. a feeble, embarrassed whine falls from your lips, as three hungry pairs of eyes have no shame in hiding how much they want to fucking devour you.

"look at you, so fucking wet." ande’s voice comes a deep rumble, belt unbuckling with a click as he inches closer. his hands slide over your thighs as he moves over, all the way, and you make another strained noise as his cock hits your belly.

"i think it's cute." cate hums, eyes glimmering as she leans across the bedspread, hands wrapping around the base of andre's eager, bobbing cock and directing it towards your splayed legs. andre’s basically fucking trembling with restless need, cate’s own breaths shallowing, picking up the pace. "luke ever get you this wet?"

your teeth tuck into your bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut because god, luke.. what the hell are you doing here? it feels like betrayal. it is betrayal—they need to stop—this is wrong—

you whine, making a choking noise as jordan’s grasp on your wrist steels enough to snap bone. you want to say; luke—? yes—he fucking has—i think—but you find you barely have the strength to moan, let alone protest.

“nah, i don’t think so.” jordan smirks, smug, as if they know exactly what’s going through your head as their hand guides yours; forcibly pumping your hand along their length. their frustrated growls of pleasure are enough to make you blush—let alone the feeling of andre’s hands roughly shoving your legs apart, spreading your folds open with two of his fingers. you whine, quivering, glazed pupils meeting his.

"fuck, luke's gonna kill us—" andre grunts once he finally rams into you, audibly groaning as you slam into the blankets with each thrust, inciting the most strangled little cries from your throat. it’s so much—you can’t help but thrash a little, under his touch. cate lets out a displeased hum, though at his words or his roughness you can't tell.

"what luke won't know won't hurt him." jordan counters from the other side of you, lips twisting into a grin as they bite into your shoulder, still moving your hands in thrusts along their length.

they keep shifting—each time you're distracted by cate or andre the feeling of their cock twitching under your hands changes to fingers sinking into sloppy, wet heat. it's ridiculous how hot it makes you, just jacking them off—but it’s not like you have any room to comment with andre thrusting into you like an animal, snarls coming out of his mouth as each movement sends you reeling with white-hot, carnal pleasure.

"move, you brute." cate interrupts, voice cutting through the blinding, purely instinctual pleasure of andre pumping you full like a rutting dog. her eyes glitter with an annoyance that give way to barely-restrained lust, and in your sex-drugs-cate induced haze (you're still not quite sure which it is, yet), you faintly register the plastic in her hand; long, thick, pink and fuck— is that a strap?

"not yet, cate, i'm almost done—" andre cuts himself with a guttural, bestial moan as his cock rams into you, again. you can feel it twitching inside of you; hear his breaths growing shallower as he grips your hips, so tight they might bruise. "oh, fuck—!" he groans loudly as he comes, thick, hot seed filling you up, hips still thrusting as he crams as much of his load into you as he possibly can. it takes a beat before he reluctantly pulls out, chest heaving.

"fuck, you felt so good," he groans, hands clumsily tugging you forward for a kiss before he's promptly pushed off before your lips can touch. "about fucking time." cate grunts, voice sharp, weight of andre on top of you replaced by two long, toned legs swinging on either side of your body, cate's hands running over that fucking strap at her hips. her lips curl into a smirk as your eyes—still glassy from andre's force—blink blearily up at her. you’re still so dazed, so adorable. she leans down to cup your chin. "you're such a pretty little thing," she murmurs, thumb brushing against your bottom lip, gaze darkening as she begins to prise your mouth open, gleam in her eyes giving away to sheer, unadulterated lust.

"open wide." she whispers, and that's the only pre-empt you get before you're choking on silicone, her hips bucking forward as she shoves herself into your mouth. her hands tighten in your hair, jerking you forward so that the entire length forces itself down your throat. tears spring to your eyes. you feel jordon's hands getting rougher as they use you to fuck themselves, teeth digging into your skin to muffle their own whines while your own, keening “mmfs—!” peter out to soft, quiet whimpers.

"you're so good for us," jordan moans, burying your fingers hilt-deep into their cunt, walls pulsing desperately around you. "so fucking good," cate assents with a breathy, pleasured groan of her own, back snapping as if it were her own cock that you’re gagging around. from behind her, andre’s hands are wrapped around himself, moving furiously as he arches over the bed. “you have no idea how long we’ve wanted this.” he hisses, one hand madly jerking himself off to the sight of cate fucking your face like she owns you, the other tangling in your hair. cate audibly moans, bucking into you further with a sharp inhale. "wish i could come in you for real." she mumbles, fingers running along your jaw as you splutter around plastic. she smiles, tilts her head up to look at jordon as they mutter something unintelligible, her thrusts increasing in pace, fucking your throat so raw, so good. "jordan's got something special to give you." she murmurs, voice honey sweet, hand dancing up your cheek.

you can hardly gargle a response through the strap in your mouth—but you don't have to. not when, with a resounding moan, all questions are answered with jordan promptly shooting their load all over your face, thick, hot strings of cum leaking around the edges of the strap and seeping into your mouth. they both groan, jordan slumping into your side with soft, intermittent pants.

"god.." they mutter into the crook of your neck, cate's thrusts slowing as she starts to loosen her grip on your hair; though not stopping, never stopping. "you're ours." jordan grunts, gripping your thigh with sudden, overwhelming intensity while cate continues jerking the strap down your throat, smile tugging at her lips. “ours." she echoes, voice soft—almost gentle if you didn’t know any better. she leans down, hand stretching out; smearing jordan's cum across your cheek in one, long, clean swipe. "fucking ours."

poor, poor luke.

1K notes · View notes