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burnforyou · 2 months ago

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DREAMING OF YOU - LUIGI MANGIONE x READER

!SUMMARY! pure fluff, mutual pining, a bit more than friends. he's a good man savannah! wrote this while I was sleep deprived so... enjoy! 1.4k words

the door shuts with a tight click and a high squeak. a cold draft enters the room. you craned your neck to look at the door, expecting your flatmate. instead, Luigi was standing in your doorway looking straight at you. you shot up from the couch.

"Luigi?" all of the air in your lungs was lost as you stared at him.

"hey?" he tried, his voice coming out hoarse. you ran around the couch and jumped into his arms, your arms wrapping around his neck. his arms wrapped around your waist, his cold hands sending a shiver over your whole body. he pulls you into him more and your heels begin to leave the ground.

this is where i'm meant to be, forever, you both think.

"you're here," you whisper into his neck, bringing your head up to look at him. you're still in utter disbelief that this is real, that he is real. you cradle his head in your hands purely to feel him, his face as cold as ice. you can tell he hasn't shaved in a period of time, which is very unlike him, as his stubble prickles your palms. his nose has a rosy hue, one that reminds you of Rudolph. his eyes open and he studies your face.

"where have you been?" you ask breathfully. you're out of breath as if you just ran a marathon.

"I had a family emergency in- out of the country, I had to leave immediately and didn't really have time to talk to anyone. 'm sorry." he apologizes shamefully.

"hey, you don't need to apologize. I understand. I'm just glad you're here now." you smile slightly and search his dark eyes for answers.

you both cannot tear your hands or eyes off of each other, his hands running up and down your back and arms like he’s sculpting you out of clay with his bare hands. you hold him as if he's your military husband returning from war, when in reality, he was only gone for a week. but it felt like war being apart from him for however many days, you could never handle being apart for any longer than that, or ever again.

he takes his hand off your back and tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. your stomach flips at his icy, careful touch. he leaves his hand on your cheek and caresses your skin. he leans into you and his eyes flicker between your lips and eyes. your cheeks flush under his hand and a smile graces his face.

he's so unsure, so hesitant. all he wants to do is kiss you. all he wants to do is be yours, to have you be his. but he doesn't know if you want him the same way. he doesn't know that you dream of him the same way he dreams of you. your lips: your familiar, loving, lips.

little does he know, you feel the same way about him. you've always wanted your kids to have his eyes and nose.

"you're cold," you squeak out. his head jerks back. he looks away from you, embarrassed he even thought for even a second he had the honor of kissing you.

"I am cold." he says, his voice coarse.

"um, you can give me your coat," you awkwardly look down, stepping back from him. he takes off his backpack and drops it on the floor by the door with a thud. "do you want soup? I have tomato basil, vegetable, uh- I think mushroom, or if you don't want soup, I can make us chili, or ramen, or whatever you wa-"

"y/n, I'll eat whatever you make. make whatever you want and i'll eat it." he interrupts your rambling. you snap your head up to look at him, his dark eyes already looking at you.

"is Mac and cheese okay?" you squeak, your skin flushing with embarrassment. he nods and you rush to your small kitchen to start boiling the water, forgetting about his coat. you pour the water into the pot and focus on your breathing,

in,

and then out,

which doesn't seem to work because he's still got you all worked up. all hot and bothered.

on the other side of the wall, Luigi leans against the door and closes his eyes. he was so close to all hes wanted.

it's fine, he tells himself. we have all the time in the world.

when he finally finds the courage to face you again, he pushes off the wall and follows the familiar plan of your apartment to your kitchen. he leans on the island and watches you stir the pot. a couple minutes later you're sitting beside each other, basking in comfortable silence. he's simply just happy that he can be home with you again.

"if you don't mind me asking, um, what happened? with your family?"

"oh, my great uncle died and we had to sort out his will, for his land and money and stuff. we were close when I was growing up, but I haven't seen him in years. it just really hasn't set in yet, that I'm really never gonna see him again."

"I'm so sorry," you put your hand on his bicep. he blinks tiredly and gives you a tight-lipped smile in response. you notice dark eye bags developing beneath his eyes.

"when was the last time you slept?" you ask him. your care floods his heart with love.

"i'm not sure." he answers honestly.

"lu! you need to get to bed! you can sleep in my room tonight," you say, picking up your empty dishes before realizing what you said. "I'll take the couch," you add.

the idea of sleeping in your bed fills him with joy, almost a child-like giddiness. but he knows better.

"no, I'm not doing that. I'll sleep on the couch, it's no big deal." he slides off the chair and watches you in the kitchen. you place the dishes in the sink and turn around to look at him.

"not with those back problems you're not."

"I'd never make a woman sleep on a couch," he argues back.

"and I'd never make a man with back problems sleep on my hard couch that I picked up on the side of the street." you say, putting your hand on your hip.

"I can Uber home," he tries, even though he truly doesn't want to.

"no, you can't." you say stubbornly. you're not letting him go home. you don't even want to let him out of your eyesight for fucks sake.

"can't we just sleep in my bed together?" you blurt out before realizing the implications. your faces both grow red with embarrassment. you look down at your nails and bite the spot on your cuticle you've been picking at. he shivered at the thought of sleeping in a bed together. not just any bed, your bed.

"well, I'm going to bed," you begin walking to your room. "you can join me if you want."

you leave the decision in his hands. once you reach your bathroom, you lean on the sink and look at yourself in the mirror. is this real? you ask yourself. you quickly go through the motions of getting ready for bed, suppressing any thoughts of Luigi. any thoughts of sleeping in the same bed of Luigi. any thoughts of laying next to him as he sleeps and him pulling you flush into him as he sleeps, your backside molding into his front perfectly.

him wearing only boxers and you in a thin t-shirt, little to nothing keeping your skin apart.

fuck!

cold water splashing on your face pulls the wild thoughts out of your mind. your push it all away, walk to bed, and pull the covers over you.

a little while later, you feel the blanket pull and the bed dip. you blink your eyes open slowly and your met with luigi's dark brown eyes staring tiredly into your own, also struggling to stay open.

"Luigi," you croak, your mind not fully awake. you reach out for him and he shuffles closer to you. his skin is still cold to the touch. you pull his head into your chest and entwine your fingers in his curls. you share your heat with him under the blanket.

"are you cold now?" you ask, delirious with sleep.

"no," he replies simply, at a loss for words as you massage his scalp with your finger nails.

luigi picks his head up and stares deeply into your eyes, noticing speckles of color he's never noticed before. I'll never get tired of this sight, he thinks.

"I don't deserve you." he breathes out, his voice so deep with honesty.

"shhhh" you whisper, pushing his head back down onto your chest. your hand returns to massaging his curly hair. he sighs and shuts his eyes, dreaming of you.

MASTERLIST - PREV. WORK

!A/N! wrote this bc I wanted to portray him in a slightly better light than creep (lol) but I ended up loving it and now I cant stop having fluffy thoughts about him. send fluffy (or not) requests!

!TAGS!

@strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @btcowboy @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @bricapallen16 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n

#luigi #luigi mangione #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fanfiction #Luigi mangione fluff #rpf #fluff #my works #real person fiction

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syluss-littlecrow · 17 days ago

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diet pepsi

losing all your innocence in Zayne's backseat 💙

where a night drive with Zayne ends up having you him deciding to find ways to amp up the cold temperatures in his backseat.

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, car sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, windows get fogged & car seats get hot, based on the song Diet Pepsi, orgasms, breeding kink (r u surprised at this point), fingering

w/c: 1.7k

a/n: here's a little icy treat for the girlies out there. I actually think this song is so delicious, and I just had to use this for Zayne's fic. Enjoy as always, thank you for reading & supporting 💙

You used to dislike the rainy weather because of the way the wetness and humidity would ruin your plans. Not to mention, you hated getting your hair wet.

The monsoon season is still going strong–some days the rain barely letting the sun shine.

Well, this was one of those days.

Zayne’s hands are relaxed on your thigh, managing the steering wheel with one hand.

The rain continues to patter on, filling the car with the sound of rain. It's actually relaxing, you think, especially when Zayne is calmly by your side.

“You're smiley tonight”, Zayne points out, his eyes not leaving the road.

“How would you know?” You tease. “Your eyes are on the road!”

“I just do. Aren't things like that common when you have a partner? I know you well enough, y/n.”

A soft squeeze to your thigh.

He doesn't realise how far up his hand is on your thigh and your heart is suddenly fluttering.

So is your pussy.

You pat your cheeks to calm yourself down. There was something about Zayne just driving you through the rain with his hand squeezing your thigh, and how the whole car smells just like him.

“Are you cold? I feel goosebumps all over your thighs”, Zayne points out, his eyes still on the road.

At the red light, he’s able to focus his attention fully on you.

“I'll increase the heating-” he turns to look at you, noticing the pink that's flushed on your cheeks.

“I'm still cold”, you half-lie.

“We'll drop by to get some heating packs at the convenience store. Bear with it a little longer”, he comforts you, this time taking your hand in his, pressing his lips against the back of your hand, the warmth spreading all over.

Suddenly you feel greedy. You want him to kiss more places than just the back of your hand.

Zayne parks at the nearest store, ready to open the doors and leave. The car park is practically empty, with some cars sparsely parked.

He's about to open the car door until your fingers are curled around his tie.

“Zayne… could we find…other ways to warm up?”

It takes seconds for Zayne to catch on quickly.

Zayne watches you crawl to the backseat, the smell of your perfume and the sight of your dress pushing up, just shy of your panties, makes him breathe a little harder.

He pushes his seat forward, then opens the driver's side of the door.

While his hands loosens his navy tie, he watches you through the backseat window–the way you stare at him while you roll your lace panties off your legs.

He swallows hard, still trying to keep his strings of rationale intact. But the way you're fucking teasing him like this can only hold him back so much.

He slams the car door behind him, trapping both of you in the vehicle, his lips immediately devouring yours so desperately. His requests for more come in soft whimpers. Zayne lets his hands wander all over your body, tugging your dress down past your tits, making you gasp at the cold air that hits you.

His lips travel down your neck, each time his lips leave a blazing trail that melts into your skin.

“It's cold, Zayne”, you mumble, your hands running through his jet black locks.

“And we’ll warm each other up”, he replies. You feel the warmth of his palm travel dangerously down your thigh to your hips.

His slender fingers travel down south until he feels your warm and wet pulsing cunt. You watch him wet his fingers with his tongue, then back to his favourite spot. His fingers circle around your wet pussy hole, and then his fingers plunge in, sending electric shocks of pleasure through your spine. He curls his fingers in you, watching you in awe, your hips lifting off the car seat, your moans competing with the wet sounds your cunt is making.

"Look at you, already soaking wet", he teases, making sure you hear the way your cunt squelches when he slowly pulls his fingers out, your juices decorating his fingers, glistening under the dim lights. He makes you watch him lick his tainted fingers clean, the taste of you dusting Zayne's cheeks a soft shade of red.

"Zayne, please", your fingers tug against the sleeve of his dress shirt. "It's not enough."

Zayne chuckles, and he pushes your legs further apart. "Of course it isn't. I know your body best, don't I?" He applies pressure on your clit with his thumb, and another jolt of electricity flutters through your spine.

Zayne doesn't waste much time to remove his trousers. Despite his towering height, he's able to smoothly strip himself without hitting his head on the roof of the car. What other skills does this man have?

Well, you didn't have the time to make guesses considering Zayne was demanding your attention on him, leaning in for more greedy kisses. You hear his soft mutters as he's pressing himself against you, edging himself against you with his wet cock.

"I love it when you wear lipstick. It makes me want to ruin it so much."

His tongue feels hot against yours. It's so intoxicatingly good. Was it because it was still raining? Was it because he's about to fuck the lights out of you in his car? Whatever it is--he just feels so fucking good on you.

"I'm gonna enter you now", he says, waiting for you to give the green light. You nod, taking his palm onto your cheek.

Zayne lines himself right at your pussy hole, and he pushes himself into you. His groans sound so pretty when he's getting fucked out like this.

He watches the way his cock slowly stretches you open, trying to fit all of him in. The warmth of your cunt is just sucking him in, so fucking perfect for the rainy weather.

You're seeing stars. Zayne feels so big and thick in you and you have to remind yourself to fucking breathe. You feel him draw circles on your thighs to soothe you. It works for a second or two, until the feeling of Zayne pushing more of his length in, filling you up completely makes your head spin once more. You're fighting to keep your line of sight clear, but it's tough when your boyfriend is fucking balls deep in your pussy.

“You're so warm and tight”, he groans, his olive eyes slowly letting go of the last strings of sanity he has left. “It feels so good.”

Zayne can't get enough–even when you're sprawled beneath him, legs spread open, hair a shriveled mess, lipstick smudged at the corner, and eyes that leak so much lust–you look like a goddess in his eyes, pinned underneath him.

“Zayne”, you whine. He makes him grow thicker in you when he hears you like that for him. “Wait a moment, you're too big–”

Zayne scrunches his eyebrows when he feels you squeeze him. Fuck, you're really driving him insane.

He pulls out slightly, his breath hitched at the back of his throat when your creamy load leaks out and pools at the base of his dick.

Zayne pushes himself in once more, the sounds of you whining like music to him. He thrusts into you over and over again, savouring and eating the moans that leave your lips.

He pulls back, the greedy slowly clouding his vision when he realises this isn't enough.

Zayne effortlessly shifts you onto his lap, not minding that his cock naturally slipped out for now. His palm is on the back of your head and he’s pulling you in for another round of wet and desperate kisses. Every sigh you pull out from him makes your pussy clench the air uselessly.

Suddenly, the air doesn't feel as cold anymore.

Zayne looks at you with such overflowing desire that it makes him feel dizzy too.

Soft lips latch onto your skin, burning you with pleasure and tease.

It feels hot and heavenly.

You sigh, fidgeting and tugging his ears playfully.

“It's…gotten warmer”, you point out, feeling the warmth radiating off the both of you–the small beads of perspiration rolling down your neck to your chest.

“Even better”, Zayne replies, cupping your tits, wetting your nipple with rolls of his tongue, sucking your soft nubs. His eyes lock onto you to lap up your reactions. You're falling apart in the best ways possible.

He can't get enough of the way your pussy is staining his trousers, rubbing, teasing his thick cock to just enter you again.

You call out his name over and over, mixed with weak moans and your body trembling with every light tug he does on your nipple.

When he finally gives you mercy and stops, you watch his smile play on his lips.

You pout, sliding your thumb across his lips, and watching with shaky breaths when he takes your thumb past his lips, and equally wets it with his tongue.

You dive in, starved to claim his lips as yours once more, sharing the warmth that continues to climb within the confines of the car.

Zayne positions his cock once more, lining it up to your wet pussy hole, and pushes himself in again, drawing gasps and moans when he's filled you to the brim once more. He feels thicker this time.

“So good”, you sigh, your knees shaking from your pussy stretching once more.

His hand sprawls over your ass, guiding it up and down as he thrusts you from below, still careful that you don't hit the roof of the car.

He shifts himself slightly forward, and you follow suit, letting him hit deeper parts in you more safely. You have your arms wrapped around him, realising it's completely pointless to try to ground yourself with Zayne fucking you stupid like that.

More wet and lewd sounds start filling the car. You hear his voice right at your ear.

“I love it so much when your tight pussy makes such pretty sounds for me.”

He pins your thighs down, forcing you to take every thrust he gives you. It gives him access to hit your sensitive spongy spot. It makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back. You bite your lip, the muscles in your thighs tensing. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! It feels so fucking good.

Zayne knows he's hit the sweet spot when you tighten all over him, both in your arms and pussy.

“Let go all over me, y/n”, Zayne’s voice tickles your ears. “You're gonna feel so good.”

The repetition of Zayne perfectly hitting your spot makes you sob. The knot in your stomach snaps, and your thighs shake, your orgasm washing over you in waves, your vision going white.

You're in fucking heaven.

“So good. I'm cumming so much, Zayne”, you sob. Zayne isn't letting your orgasm go just yet.

He leaves another mark on your shoulder, taking in a deep inhale of the perfume that's struggling to stay on your skin.

“I'm gonna make a whole mess in you, darling.”

For a man as calm and collected as Zayne, the way he fucks you is nasty and disrespectful.

And you love every fucking bit of it.

He peppers kisses all over your neck and shoulders, turning them into bites when you feel his cock pulse, then warm and thick cum fills your whole pussy up.

“That's it. Take all of it. That's my good girl.”

While you catch your breath, you notice the fog on the car windows. You're not sure if the rain stopped or not. All you're sure of is that your mind is slowly getting broken by Zayne–every bit of it belonging to him, and that every time he fucks you from below, it makes you shiver from the sheer pleasure.

You feel Zayne suck your neck once more and the pleasure sends shivers down your body.

“Don't get distracted, darling”, his gentle voice luring you back to him.

He fits his cum-covered cock right into you again–nothing more than a stronger indicator that he's not done yet. It elicits another choked moan out of you. His grip is harder on you now.

“Say my name. Louder.”

Damn. The temperature really went up.

#love and deepspace #l&ds smut #love and deep space smut #zayne #li shen #lads zayne #l&ds x reader #l&ds zayne #zayne x reader #zayne smut #zayne love and deepspace #lnds smut #lnds x reader #lnds zayne #Spotify

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karlachismylife · 3 months ago

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So, we all know Simon is covered in freckles, beautiful constellations blooming on his pale skin, nature marking the perfect paths for kisses along his collarbones, down the dip of his spine, scattered on his arms.

And his face, of course, little spots on his nose and cheeks, sneaky ones all the way up to his eyes. Hidden from everyone, full attire, a mask and smear black providing cover for the shy stars, like clouds do on windy, humid autumn nights. Cold and detached wrap to keep this weird sign of life on a living dead body from overly curious eyes.

But not from his Captain. Price knows these freckles, he's seen them young and bright, he's seen them dull and almost invisible on a half translucent skin.

He's seen them disappear, long, cruel winter and the mask almost grown into Ghost's skull wiping everything besides uneven scars and black ingrained into his skin. He's seen the summer taken out of his boy, replaced with the dead sleep of the winter, white and icy like Simon's eyelashes.

And, frankly, he won't have that.

If there's not enough sun for those little specks of life to shine, be it London fog half of the year or excruciating cold of the northern polar night they're stuck in on an op, Captain Price is giving his Lieutenant a personal sunshine. One that will melt polar caps if you let it shine in full brightness, hot, unpredictable in its flares, relentlessly glowing and cutting it's radiation through any barier.

Deadly as a burning globe of gas can be. Sergeant MacTavish.

Johnny doesn't have a problem with disregarding laws of physics. If this sole, dark, barren planet of ice refuses to circle him like everyone else does, Soap flips all those heliocentric theories over and instead makes a satellite to Ghost out of himself. Simon's joints stop aching when the shared space heats up, air few degrees away from rippling around Soap's broad form like it's boiling overhead a fire pit. His breath appears visible again, contrast to the almost non-existent fog that was leaking out of his mouth, making everyone who knew (not many of them) wonder, if Simon Riley actually ever left his grave.

One day, Simon's knuckles turn white and hurt. One day, Simon's frosty lashes flutter and not a single cloud of steam exits his mouth. One day, he feels frozen in place despite being basked in molten sunlight of Johnny's gaze, because Sergeant's restless hands found a makeup pen and are swiftly covering Simon's flushed cheeks in freckles.

Crowded constellations, all little sister stars from the MacTavish clan, clinging to Simon in semi-permanent kisses.

Price walks in on them, Simon sitting with his hands clenched tight and his breath held, Johnny with his tongue stuck between his front teeth as he keeps bringing spring out of its long dormant state on Simon's once again alive face.

Just like a sun should. Just like Captain Price expected.

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chiumii · 2 months ago

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church ~ enha x reader

enhypen members as different chase atlantic's - 'church' lyrics !

enhypen x reader | smut , angst , cheating , fwb , sneaky link , daddy kink , pet names , cum eating , oral , praise , orgasm denial , over stimulation , more , not proof read , spelling mistakes to be expected , blah blah blah enjoy

LEE HEESEUNG ---- ♡

"you're wearing nothing but my tshirt - call me shallow but i'm only getting deeper"

seeing you clad in his shirt would normally make heeseung beyond happy . he's possessive - he absolutely loves it when you wear his clothes and he finds every opportunity to make sure everyone knows you're his - but this is definitely not one of those moments where he want's everyone to know such information

the way you hum some random song under you're breath while prancing around the kitchen is adorable. Heeseung chuckles to himself as he walks in through the front door after an agazoning day at work.

he sets his stuff down near the front door and loosens his suits tie before walking into the living room but quickly stops in his tracks once he realizes you're wearing one of his t-shirts...

but its not the t-shirt that throws him off, its what's underneath

well, lack of what's underneath

you're wearing nothing.

absolutely nothing as you twirl around the tiled kitchen, baking something.

heeseung chuckles to himself as you turn to face the counter, and lucky for him - he gets a perfect view of your plump ass as you bend over the counter in order to reach something from the top cabinet.

you feel hands snake around your body, perching themselves on your hips - keeping you in place. a soft gasp leaves your lips - not realizing that your boyfriend had come home from work

"hi baby , I didn't hear you come in" you say with a smile , but he doesn't say anything , nor does he move. you feel his face bury into the side of your neck , kissing your skin sweetly.

heeseung hums , the vibrations shooting down your body in ripples. one of his hands snakes down to the hem of the shirt your wearing , slipping up and underneath the fabric , his icy fingertips grazing your sternum and up until they cup one of your breasts.

"you know what you're doing , you and I both know this" heeseung bites down on your earlobe after whispering in you ear, sending shivers down your spine.

he's not lying , but the fact that he points it out to you makes your clit pulsate.

"prancing around the kitchen wearing nothing but my shirt like some kind of slut begging to be fucked against the counter" he pinches your nipple , hard - resulting in a yelp being ripped from your throat.

"couldnt even wait until I eat dinner hmm?" his other hand trails down from your hip to your clit, pressing his fingers against the bundle of nerves.

you whine at the contact, and heeseung can feel you clench around nothing.

"wanna dress like a slut ? I'll fuck you like one"

you don't know when he took his pants off, but you feel his cock slip into your needy hole , his tip pushing into you.

"h-hee" you whimper pathetically , his degrading tone making you feel hot.

"hmm, say my name again baby" he bites down on your shoulder , slowly pushing himself into you , but not all the way . his hands push you further up onto the counter , your feet almost dangling in the air as you press your tip-toes into the tile.

"h-heeseung-" you moan at the feeling of his dick slowly intruding into your walls

"that's it baby, say my name" he breathes into your ear , a low growl

and so you do

over and over again as he pushes his full length inside you , his tip kissing your cervix and passed that

deeper and deeper

inch by fucking inch

in that god damn shirt

PARK JONGSEONG ------ ♡

" ill keep you up until the sunset - speaking in tongues , yeah , we ain't done yet "

jay is normally so sweet in bed , so gentle and kind - he would leave featherlight kisses on your skin , his hands would massage every crease of your beautiful body - making sure to give you as much pleasure as humanly possible and even beyond.

so when you get home from an early morning brunch with one of your old friends , jay seems upset for some odd reason.. and you can't seem to pinpoint why.

"jay, what's wrong?" you ask him for the third time since coming home just short of thirty minutes ago. the clock strikes one fifteen , you having arrived home less than twenty minutes ago.

"when were you going to tell me you went out to see a man , y/n?" jay asks from the couch , aimlessly scrolling through his phone without even looking up at you - but his tone giving away how he feels ; he was upset , mad even. you didn't tell him it was one of your old friends from community college who happened to be a man.

a man with a whole fiancee . he was like a brother to you , hes the only reason you survived school - but you wanted to see just how jealous you could make him and oh what a dangerous game you decided to play.

"I didn't think it would matter , dont you trust me?" jay scoffs , rolling his eyes in response. you cross your arms over your chest , staring down at him.

"I trust you, baby- it's him I don't trust" he speaks , not looking up at you. irritation flows through your veins as you stare at him.

"yeah? you think I'd let him fuck me?" your sentence almost makes jay choke on his saliva - almost.

he looks up at you through his eyebrows, cocking them up in order to egg you on - questioning you. you mimic his actions , tilting your head to the side and raising your eyebrow , encouraging him to speak.

"would you?" he asks , amusement in his voice as he sets his phone down on the coffee table , his full attention on you now. you dont cower or shy away , deciding to play your final card before you unleash a side of him you have never seen before.

"and if I did?" jays final string of patients snaps as he stands up from the couch and slyly walks around it within less than a fraction of a second - so fast you ended up getting whiplash as he pushes your back against the cool wall , his hand wrapping around your throat in order to push your head back to look at him.

"than I guess I'd have to fuck you better now, hmm?" he tongues his cheek with a smirk before throwing you over his shoulder, walking down the hall and into your shared bedroom.

jay throws you onto the bed before hovering over you, gripping your face in his hands and squeezing your cheeks.

"I'll have to show you that being fucked like a whore is the only thing you're good for"

the two of you have been at it for house - well , he's been at it for hours.

edging you with his fingers and tongue , occasionally pressing his tip against your hole in order to get your hopes up before tearing it all down and edging you with his fingers once more.

your hands are up against the bed posts , restrained thanks to the black rope wrapped around your wrists so you can't touch your boyfriend. your legs are non-stop shaking as jay eats you out again , his tongue lapping at your puffy , sensitive clit that has you convulsing in overstimulation.

"j-jay please.." you whimper just above a whisper. your hands tug at the restraints for the nth time and you can feel your juices mixed with saliva run down your asscheeks and thighs to coat the bed underneath. jay chuckles into your pussy , the sound echoing through the chambers of your fucked-out mind.

he detaches from your bundle of nerves before roughly grabbing your throat , forcing you to look at him as his fingers bully their way inside your desperate pussy , sucking his digits in as if they were nothing .

"you wanna cum , sweetheart ? want daddy to let you cum ?" you frantically nod your head , your eyes pleading for release.

jay could never ever say no to you , no matter how hard he tries to be stern - you were his little angel and he would do anything for you.

"cum baby , you can cum now angel" your juices squirt all over his arm and bed at his words , your pussy fluttering around his digits as you arch your back up off the mattress , a squeal leaving your lips as pleasure rips through your body after all the torture he had coated all over your body.

after a moment of coming down from your high , you feel jays dick prod at your pussy. your eyes fling open and towards the window - it was beginning to get dark , the sun illuminating a dim glow over the horizon through the window as a gray begins to paint over the sky - it was late.

"j-jay pl-please I-" a moan cuts you off as he pushes his cock into your gummy walls , the shape of his dick engraving itself into your core. your legs shake and write under him - all jay does is chuckle at your attempts to escape

"you really thought I was done with you?"

SIM JAEHYUN ------ ♡

" and I'll keep leading you on , if you keep leading me into your room "

it was only supposed to be every other weekend.

it was supposed to be a no strings attached agreement.

Jake and you have never had a normal relationship , and with the rate it's going ; it never will be.

it started off as every other weekend. you would meet him at his apartment on Saturday at exactly 6 pm.

there would be absolutely no talking involved , he would fuck you deeply into the mattress for hours into the late night - calling you names and granting you orgasm after orgasm.

that was until he invited you to go with him to pick up some food one night after meeting up with him.

you knew deep down you shouldn't agree to go - how this would be the start to something that the both of you agreed to never spark

but you stupidly did it anyways.

you two chatted for hours over curry and endless sushi.

talking about how college was going, your family members, just life in general.

it ended up leading to Jake calling you every week asking you to come over. the two of you started with your face in the pillow screaming his name over and over in a sinful , devious chant that was swallowed into the secrets of his room and it ended with the two of you cuddling while watching movies.

it progressed into something even deeper - but hey , no strings were attached , no labels were involved right ?

oh how you wish it could be something more as you stared into jakes eyes - almost as if you were looking directly into his soul as he fucked you with your back pressed against your mattress , in your room , his hand cupping your cheek as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

this was different.

he was different with you.

he never fucked anyone in missionary - claiming it was too intimate.

he never went over to anyone else's place because he preferred to be in his own space.

but yet here you were ; your bodies one as he presses his cock deep inside your walls - his name dripping off his tongue so prettily.

it happened every other day now , he would call you and ask to come over or you would just invite him - lead him into your room with his hands all over your body , the exchangement of quiet kisses and moans that lead to you being pressed underneath him , his thrusts focused and concentrated as he works you to your orgasm - the way he would look at you as if you held his entire world.

you were absolutely convinced it was a look of love..

but that feeling of something more was stripped from you as you witnessed Jake flirting with another girl - tucking her hair behind her ear as he stared deeply into her eyes - the same way he looked into yours.

you tried to avoid him , you really did.

but it was hard when he had been calling non-stop for a week and a half - almost every hour of the day he would send you a text , asking if he could come over.

but it was Jake , and you were you .

you couldn't help but call him and tell him to come over

you missed his touch too much, you missed everything about him in that short week of ignoring and silence

but in this moment you were one as he has you on your back once more , your legs over his shoulders and your knees pressed on either side of your head.

"fuck you're so god damn beautiful baby , taking me so well" you moan at his words , his cock licking that sweet spot deep inside your core.

your choked out moans flow right into his ear , influencing his thrusts to quicken , his hips snapping against the flush of your ass in a perfect rhythm .

"god you drive me so fucking insane" he spoke truthfully. your pussy squeezes him , milks him completely dry at the two of you cum in unison - proving the two of you to be one singular being.

"Jake..?" you question as he puts his shoes on after getting dresses.

"I gotta go , I have something to do" he responds, not giving you the chance to question him.

"actually , I wanted to talk.." his ears perk up at your words , turning around to face you. you shyly look up at him through your eyelashes , your cheeks red in nervousness

"I wanted to talk... about us,,," Jake cocks his eyebrows up as he tongues his cheek in question.

"y/n.. baby there is no us.. you remember the agreement , dont you?" the reminder was agoning , like an alarm clock ripping you away from the warmth of your bed. he cups your cheek , his hands sweet and his words painful. like a dagger into your chest as it weighs down on your heart ;

heavy and dull.

you knew he was fucking another girl. he hadn't called you in around a week since that night. his neck had faint hickeys that you didn't leave and he would pass you in the hallways without giving you a second glance.

so you had decided that night when you called him , it would be the last . Jake answered your phone call with a smirk , knowing that you couldn't stay away.

he found it absolutely adorable how you couldn't resist him , be away from him. he was like your personal drug that you didn't even have any knowledge of

you were addicted and had no fucking clue.

Jake had your back against the mattress , his lips attached to your neck with one of his hands fondling your breasts as you moan into the silent air.

your back was arched off the mattress , clawing at jakes back - breaking the skin as you leave small drops of blood in your nails trail. Jake detached his lips from your hot skin , looking deeply into your eyes.

you wished he wouldn't - your eyes were glossy and your eyebrows were pinched together , breathy moans dripping off your tongue as he fucks into you deeply , the mattress rocking and your legs shaking.

you would normally be the one to hold and maintain eye contact - wanting to see him completely

but it was you who looked away, shutting your eyes as you turn your head to the side. it sounded like another choked moan , but in reality it was a sob that clawed its way out of your throat.

I love you

you wished you could say, with all your heart you wished

but you couldnt.

as the two of you cum in unison, Jake began to put his clothes back on again , signaling that he had to go.

that wasn't normal.

he would normally clean you off and either run you a bath, cuddle you, or ask you to go get food - his treat.

you felt like the rest of them ; you felt like a toy.

you felt used and neglected. you really thought something was different , you thought that there was a slight possibility - the small , dim ray of hope was completely gone now and all that was left was jakes expressionless face as he turns to look at you.

"I have to go" you didn't say anything - you didn't even look at him when he spoke to you , deciding to stare off into space - looking directly through the man standing in front of you.

"y/n?" you tilt your eyes up, looking up at him through your eyebrows

now it was your turn to possess the uninterested, expressionless look on your face , making Jake part his lips in confusion.

this was not you. and he doesn't like it.

at all.

Jake went to cup your cheek - and hell you even let him. his thumb rubbing your cheek gently as he stares into your eyes

but yours are completely blank. there is absolutely nothing there as he looks down into you. the prominent eyebags soiling your perfect skin under your eyes.

"I'll see you later baby"

"Jake, we really need to talk about us" you say quickly , looking at him with meaning - he couldnt escape this conversation

you were tired

"y/n please , you can't be serious - there is no us" his hand doesn't let go of your cheek as he pouts at you after speaking , finally reading you

"you didn't catch feelings , did you?" he questions with a small smirk gracing his lips. your silence was more than an answer as Jake explores your face. the truth was is that you had.

he had seen every bare and true aspect of who you are. he knows everything about you without being conscious of it. he has you in the palm of his hand

exactly where he wants you.

"cute.." it all he says before leaving your apartment - cold and empty , your bodies warmth being the only light in the entire apartment.

you had blocked him that night, deciding to completely rid of him in that moment in time.

perhaps he was in over his head , but your silence made him realize things about himself that he would have never even thought of

especially when he saw you smiling at other man - the same way you once smiled at him. talking with him , your nose scrunched up in a smile as giggles fill the air around him.

he had once thought that he had you in the palm of his hands

but it was the other way around.

you had an affect on him that no other woman had ever possessed. he had thought about you every day for the month of pain filled , regretful silence he had endured .

you would be a liar if you said you didn't miss him either. all the nights of darkness with your bed cold. you two had been together long enough that he had his specific side of the bed . you always left it blank , finding it too hard to sleep where he did.

you went to lay down , pattering across the living room floor before being forced into an abrupt stop thanks to harsh knocking at your door. you stood completely frozen , knowing who was on the other side.

if you let him in , you could never go back

you would be stuck in this endless loop that only resulted in pain.

Jake wanted to break that cycle as he stood outside your door. you staring at him from the other side , basically seeing through the wood and looking directly at him.

you couldn't invite him in - not like before.

but you couldn't resist him. you would give just about anything to be held by his gentle hands one more as his eyes explore your body , reading you as if you were the most perfect story to be read.

so your hand twisted the door knob , letting the cold air into your apartment - a chill running up your spine at the sight of jakes disheveled appearance. his hair was a mess and he was in his pajamas. his appearance made you fuck all things as every ounce of morality left your body

"Jake.." your voice trailed off into silence, carried away by the wind as the two of you stared at each other.

"y/n please"

that cycle would never be broken as you pull him back into the warmth of your bed.

PARK SUNGHOON ------ ♡

" don't take my verses out of context - I know its weighing on your conscience "

you knew it was wrong

you knew you weren't supposed to be doing this but fuck did it feel so right to be laying under sunghoon's naked , sweaty body as he drove his cock further into your fucked out pussy - all thoughts of your boyfriend completely leaving your head and the only thing left was how good sunghoon was making you feel.

"does he fuck you this good baby?" you shake your head no, tears brimming around the corners of your eyes as you moan in response.

"n-no.." you shyly reply , your legs shaking in his firm grip as his hips snap against yours - setting a steady rhythm that has you seeing stars.

"tell me im the only one , tell me how much of a fucking slut you are for me" you whimper aft his cruel words , but let go of your lip inbetween your teeth as you speak

"y-you're the only one, o-nly y-ou hoonie a-aah" you finish with a whimper as he slaps your ass , making you squeal and jump in his hold.

your boyfriend thought that sunghoon was your best friend, that you went over to his apartment to study for an upcoming exam but here you were ; folded in on yourself as he drives his dick inside your gummy , sensitive walls and up to kiss your cervix sweetly.

you spoke honestly , only sunghoon could fuck you this good - manipulate your body into anything he wants. every time your boyfriend would fuck you - you imagined it was sunghoon instead every single time without fail. knowing that he did it better.

"who owns you baby , who owns this fucking pussy" he speaks harshy , his thrusts never letting up as you arch your back into the air , your legs spreading for him even further.

"y-yo-u do..." your voice trails off as you shut your eyes tight , the tears springing free as you scratch at sunghoons back. your words aren't enough for him as he grips your chin with one of his hands , forcing your eyes to open and lock with his.

"what was that baby ? I didn't quite hear you" he taunts , making you whimper into him. high-pitched mewls replace your loud moans , curling up into your best friend as you give him the answer he's looking for

"daddy does.." your words make him smirk as he lands another harsh smack to your ass , making you jump in his hold.

"damn right I do" his hips snap against yours more roughly as you fall apart on his cock that splits you in half , coming to your orgasm as you cream all over his dick - a mess to clean up later. sunghoon cums inside you right after , stilling inside you as he shoots his white ropes deep into your abdomen.

after a moment , he slowly pulls himself out - but not before leaning over to grab his phone to snap a quick picture of him half way inside you , both of your guys' fluids messily dripping out of your pussy and down your ass to stain the bed underneath.

you know where that's going later - straight into your messages as a reminder of who fucks you best

of who truly owns you. he'll send it over to you without warning , completely catching you off guard as your face turns red

your boyfriend will ask you whats wrong , and you'll wave him off by saying its nothing

the guilt will lay heavy later - but fuck that right now.

sunghoon cleans you up and helps you get dressed - and as he makes his way into the bathroom to shower , you check your phone to see who texted you

it was your boyfriend , and the message read

'I'll see you later baby , I hope you're having a good time studying with sunghoon ♡" he was so sweet that it made you physically sick , you quickly messaged him back before setting your phone back down onto the table before making your way into the bathroom . you strip your clothes off before entering the shower with him.

sunghoon smirks down at you as he takes his body wash into his hands.

"guilty yet?" he asks , making you look down at the bathtub floor in embarrassment - giving him his answer.

sunghoon grabs the sides of your waist , coating your body in bubblely body wash as his hands explore your naked , wet body.

you moan at the feeling of his big hands kneeding your plump ass. sunghoon leans down so his lips can capture yours in a heated kiss. and right before you can wrap your arms around his shoulders , he spins your body around and pins your front up against the cold tile wall , your nipples hardening and your breasts flattening.

you hiss at the rough cold as one of his hands snakes down your body and inbetween your thighs in order to press up against your clit , and the other grabs one of your legs , hooking his arm underneath your knee in order to hoist it into the air , giving him a better angle.

"let me ease that guilt baby , yeah?" he says before kissing your neck , but not leaving any marks.

every ounce of guilt leaves your body as his cock sinks into you , your pussy clenching down on his length as you moan his name , the soapy water running down inbetween your bodies as he fucks you into the wall.

and as you run home afterwards , cursing at yourself for leaving so late at night - you know the guilt of letting sunghoon use your body in any way he wanted would be the only thing on your mind as your boyfriend greets you at the door , kissing your cheek before walking into the kitchen to make you a plate of dinner.

you open your phone as a message pops up in your notifications , but quickly turn it off as you see it was an image from sunghoon.

KIM SUNOO ------ ♡

" baptize in your thighs 'til it hurts - cause i'm about to take you back to church "

if there is one thing you know about sunoo , its the fact that when he eats you out ; he is absolutely ruthless. he either wont let you cum until you're literally about to pass out from the edging - or he will make you cum too many times until you're begging him to stop.

he absolutely loves it when your legs shake in his hands , his tongue working you until your body is completely limp on the bed and all that can be heard from you are desperate mewls and quiet whimpers of his name.

he loves the power he possess over you - that he can make you go absolutely fucking stupid just from his tongue. he could eat you out for hours on end and even past that. but tonight he really wants to test the waters as his tongue starts working at you for the thirteenth time tonight.

he's been switching from edging you and denying you the satisfaction of orgasming - to forcing you to cum on his tongue thanks to the overstimulation. every time you think he's about to pull away from inbetween your thighs after granting you release ; he dives right back inside your core to work his magic once more.

"s-sun p-lease.." you beg , your voice just above a whisper as your body lay completely limp underneath his hold. sunoo's hands rest on your hips - his arms looped under your legs that are flung over his shoulders that also lay completely limp in his hold.

he originally had his hands holding your hips down onto the mattress so that you couldn't move - but now they trace gentle circles that don't add up to anywhere near the assault he grants onto your puffy - overstimulated clit.

"you can take it baby" he chuckles into your wet pussy , the vibrations of his voice shoot lightening throughout your entire body - making you convulse underneath him.

sunoo's eyes wides as you begin to jump , your body basically taking fucking screenshots as his lips wrap around your clit - sucking down harshly on your mound of sensitive nerves. your hands fly up into his hair and despite his hands being on your hips , you grind your heat down onto his face - not caring if your rubbing yourself all over his pretty self.

all you can seem to think about is sunoo's fucking tongue and how its working against you. your hips rock into his face and sunoo's face is completely in shock as you fuck yourself on him - your juices smearing all over his nose , cheeks and chin that drip down onto the bed beneath your bodies'.

sunoo takes this opportunity to slip two of his long fingers into your sopping hole , instantly curling up in order to find your sweet spot. a loud squeal leaves your throat and your hands detach from his hair in order to grip the wet sheets on either side of your body.

the duality of sunoo's tongue and fingers has you completely mind - fucked and dumb , your mind going completely blank and your moans quieting down to nothing as you squirt all over his face. sunoo gasps at you , his mouth not faltering his actions.

he looks at you with adoration , your thirteenth orgasm coming to a slow finish as your breathing is quick and shallow. sunoo detaches from your clit in order to get a good look at you ; the sweat that coats your body illuminates your skin in a glow thanks to the sun casting down through the curtains of your window , your hair is tangled and messy and there are prominent goosebumps trailing everywhere on your pretty figure.

just as you think its over , a harsh slap to your clit makes you jump. you go to look over at sunoo and as you do ; you dont recognize your boyfriend . all you see is a sinful fucking monster in front of you - that shit - eating grin you've come accustomed to seeing staring right back at you.

"I'm not done with you yet" he says before his fingers plunge their way into your tight pussy once more - his head lowering down so his lips can suck around your swollen clit.

a scream erupts from the back of your throat , but you can't buck your hips forward as sunoo's hand rests on your abdomen - keeping your ass down onto the mattress.

the pleasure he grabs you on your clit is beginning to sting - but neither of you care as your moans pick up volume , influencing sunoo to continue on into the long , messy hours of the night.

YANG JUNGWON ------ ♡

" stay on the ground until your knees hurt - no more praying baby i'ma be your preacher "

jungwon normally loves it when hes control - he prefers it really. but when you look up at him with those big doe eyes through your lashes - he can't help but coo at your adorable attempt to have him fall apart underneath you.

as you sink to your knees , you look up at jungwon with peading eyes and pouty , glossed lips . jungwon looks down at you with a small smirk gracing his lips , maintaining eye contact with you - even as you unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down around his ankles.

"you're so pretty on your knees for me" jungwons words vibrate throughout your entire body , making a shiver run up your spine . as you kitten-lick his tip , you jump a little as you feel his hands in your hair , ushering you to take him into your mouth - so you do . your tongue massages the underside of his shaft - licking the thick vein that has him shuddering under your touch.

it doesn't take long for your boyfriend to be fucking your face - his hands tangled completely in your hair as he thrusts his hips into your face. your nose presses against his pelvis with every rut of his hips into your face. the disgusting gagging sounds that sound from right under his body fill the small apartment alongside his moans that fuel you to keep going - despite almost being choked out on his lengthy cock.

your saliva mixes with jungwons precum that leak out the side of your mouth and down your chin in order to drip down onto the couch cautions below. your hands reach up to grab jungwons thighs , your manicured nails digging into his skin.

your lipgloss smears down his cock , staining it a pretty , faint pink color that matches your rosy cheeks. you feel jungwons dick twitch in your mouth - so its no surprise that he pushes your face down onto his dick , your nose pressing up against his pelvis bone - cutting off all of your supply of air .

you choke around his dick as he shoots his white ropes of cum deep down your sore throat. you slap his thighs - begging for air as you look up at him with teary eyes - the wetness staining your cheeks as they create streams in your foundation , your mascara smearing slightly under your eyes .

jungwon thinks your the cutest like this ; his cock down your throat with his hands in your hair , tears streaming down your face as your makeup smears - completely fucked out around his dick without even touching you in the ways you want .

but that's not enough for jungwon - he wants to see you completely fall apart with bruised knees and a sore throat so bad that you wont even be able to talk.

so he takes your head in his hands for the fourth time that night and forces his dick into your mouth , your mascara smeared down your cheeks - you attempt to breathe in through your nose , but it stings as he continues his assault down your throat.

you groan around his length , his cum drips out the sides of your mouth to dribble down your chin. your throat and mouth have a weird texture due to all the salty cum you've been swallowing but fuck was it all worth it to see the godly sight above you - jungwons head was thrown back as his adams apple bobbing up and down as sinful , loud moans drip off his pretty , full lips .

the praise he was gifting you also fueled your continuation of your hollowed cheeks as you suck around his cock , saying things such as

"such a good fucking girl , on your knees for me" ,

"my beautiful angel"

"takin' my cock so well, fuck"

and so many other nasty things he says makes your ego sky rocket. your tongue works slyly under his shaft, making his fingers tighten in your hair , his grip unbearable. his tightening signals to you that hes close to cumming again. he pushes your face down onto him, your nose pressing up against his pelvis bone that cuts off your air supply.

your knees dig into the ground as he shoots his last load down your throat , his ropes of cum you automatically swallow. jungwon throws his head back as a particularly loud groan bounces off the walls of your shared apartment that flow right into your ears as if it were music.

soon enough , jungwon pulls you off of his dick before standing you up. but thanks to how long you've been on the ground for , your legs give out - jungwon catching you in the process . you look down at your knees , noting the bright redness on your skin that matches your warm cheeks .

jungwon follows your line of sight , a smirk gracing his mouth . he picks you up into the air bridal style , a squeal followed by a stream of giggles sounds from you .

"won what are you doing" you smile at him as walks you over to your shared room, kicking open the door before laying you down onto the mattress.

"rewarding you for being my good little cum slut , how about that hmm?"

588 notes · View notes

sweet-hedonist · 2 months ago

Text

Impulsivity

Modern Viktor x Fem! Reader

Your chronic pain has you at the end of your rope as you hopelessly search for something to relieve your pain. Help comes from the most unexpected of places: a walgreens at 9:45 pm.

Reader is mentioned to be an art/theater kid and is also disabled like Viktor and suffers from chronic pain. No use of y/n. Also not proofread we die like redacted

Word count: 4.6K

High key inspired by @meownotgood and @gaybybirth because reading their writing made me want to write again. This is the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written and I'm terrified to post it. But I'm being brave! likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! I may make a part 2 depending on how this does. I hope you enjoy!

Pain makes it incredibly hard to think. Even though you're used to it and it's something you feel every day of your life, the burden is still quite heavy. But there is no pity for Atlas, and his shoulders will ache for the rest of time as he holds up the sky without the relief of Tylenol.

So now, you're standing in a Walgreens at 9:42 pm in the pain management aisle, shifting your weight from foot to foot to relieve the pain radiating from your hips to your ankles, trying to pick a topical pain relief gel that will actually work. You've tried most of them here; Bengay, Aspercreme, Biofreeze, Icy Hot, and nothing. Sure, they work for a few weeks but your fucking mutated joke of a body adapts and grows accustomed to whatever you use. The brace you wear on your left knee is itchy and pokes into you through your fleece-lined tights and it's not helping matters.

Giving up on reading the box of Voltaren you're holding, you crouch down to put it back and pick up something else. Your pain-addled brain is piss-poor at making decisions it seems, as the moment you bend, your knee cracks in such a way that a painful heat spreads through your entire body. It was loud too, you know it was. Eyes are staring at you, burning a hole in your head as you wince and grit your teeth against the waves of pain hell-bent on knocking you down.

You feel the urge to collapse, just sit on the floor, and read the labels and boxes there without having to stand, despite how utterly ridiculous you'd look.

"Are you alright?" Your right knee hits the floor as you shift into a kneeling position to look up at the person speaking to you. A long tweed overcoat, a thick red scarf, a cane, nice Oxford shoes, pale skin, worried amber eyes, and tousled brown hair meet your gaze. A man, a very beautiful man is standing a mere three feet from you, eyebrows pinched in concern. You blink a few times, willing yourself to remember how to act like a normal person and not a gobsmacked fool.

"Oh, yeah I uh…" You swallow and gesture wildly to the wall of products, and then visibly deflate "…no there's no way to make a joke out of this. " A laugh slips out, pitiful. You look back up at the man and the corners of his mouth are quirked up at the sides. Thank god, maybe he finds your misfortune endearing.

"They do tend to keep the best products just out of reach, don't they? Nothing at eye level ever seems to be worth your time. Just another cruel joke the health industry plays on the less abled." He looks between the wall of lotions and pills and you, his smile widening.

You smile too, less self-deprecative now and more understanding, "Ah, a fellow health industry hater, amazing. Damn straight, they bleed us dry and expect us to thank them. Greedy schmucks." With one hand on the metal shelf and the strength of your good (better?) knee, you manage to pull yourself into an upright position, even with every nerve in your body screaming at you and your left hip wanting to jump ship, leaving you alone in this sea of agony.

"Just trying to find something that doesn't stop working after a few weeks and also not develop an opioid addiction at the same time." Ah, maybe you could make a few cute jokes that this cuter man will appreciate.

"As one does." He leans both hands on his cane and nods his head conspiratorially. You giggle, you can't help it. Maybe it's the pain-induced delirium or maybe it's because you find the man in front of you incredibly attractive. But who's to say?

"Might I make a recommendation?" His accent is lilting and thick and it feels like every word out of his mouth is wrapped in a velvetine cloth. That metaphor makes no sense, your brain thinks. Shut up, chimes your heart.

"Please. I was about to start considering just chopping off my leg and being done with it." He laughs out loud at that.

"Ah, we've all been there." His attention is pulled back to the shelves and his fingers twitch as he looks for something. He's focused, insanely so, and it makes you feel important, seen. This random stranger, looking for something that will help you with such fervor.

God, it's been a while.

He bends at the waist to grab something off of the second shelf from the bottom and you definitely don't fixate on the way his long fingers curl around a box.

"This is Arnicare. The main ingredient was only legalized here a mere decade ago, it's never failed me thus far." He hands it over to you with a smile. You take it, a little awestruck and make a sincere effort to not freak out over the fact that your fingers brush his own. They're warm, good god.

"Thank you. This is invaluable insider information." You hold the box to your chest in gratitude.

"Of course. Tiger Balm is my favorite but they don't typically sell it in-store due to popular demand. I usually, unfortunately, turn to Amazon to buy it when it's in stock." he continues, putting one hand in his pocket and leaning onto his cane. You nod, making mental notes as you go.

"You are saving my life and my sanity right now. Truly." You pause, and then, with bravery that you didn't know you had-

"I'm (name)." You stick out your right hand, so that way if he chooses to take it, it won't be with the hand using his cane. He stalls for a moment and you fear you've made a horrible fool of yourself, but then he chuckles and shakes your hand gently. You can't get over how warm his hand is, skin soft save for the callouses on his palm and fingertips.

"Viktor. It is nice to meet you." His eyes crinkle as the gentle smile he wears widens.

There's a charged beat where your hands linger a moment longer than what is expected and you laugh it off before letting go. "Sorry, I uh…have been running on far less than the recommended amount of sleep and have been eating meals that do not classify as meals."

"I don't think I have ever gotten the recommended hours of sleep a day in my life."

Your eyebrows shoot up, "Really?"

"Really. I think my blood is 60% espresso at this point. Such is the life of academia." He shrugs as if to say, what can you do?

You look down at the product in your hands, and then back up to him, mind racing in a thousand different directions that all leave you terrified but at the same decision.

"You know, there's a really nice late-night coffee shop in this same shopping complex. Their coffee is the only coffee I confidently drink after 4 pm. Which, is arguably not healthy but, what can you do?" You blurt out, rather impulsively. He's a little shocked, it's clear on his face, but there is still a smile there.

"Are you asking me if I'd like to accompany you to grab coffee at…9:45 pm?" He tilts his head quizzically after checking his watch.

You nod a few times, "Absolutely I am. And maybe it's the fact that my hip hurts so bad and it's prohibiting me from feeling fear but…yeah. Wanna get coffee at 9:45 pm?" He's staring at you incredulously, but it's sweet and amused.

He laughs again, and it's a low, rumbling sound, "I was already planning on getting some kind of caffeine. Sure. I would love to." He's looking at you so intensely, almost like he's studying you. Self-consciousness washes over you suddenly as you realize you've sort of completely derailed whatever he'd been doing.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your shopping or your night…"

He shakes his head as if it were impossible to interrupt, "Interrupt my night? My night full of no plans other than grading papers until my eyes bleed? Alone and without the company of a pretty girl? Ah yes, how dare you come between me and those plans." his tone is playful, sarcastic and the nervousness fades from you as quickly as it came. Your eyes narrow.

"Oh, so he thinks I'm pretty?" You grab your purse from off the ground and start to move backward toward the register, and he follows, adjusting his cane and bag sheepishly.

"He does."

"Good because she thinks he's pretty too." You venture quickly before your brain can catch up with your mouth. It only takes a second for him to catch up with you, strolling through the aisles of a near-desolate Walgreens.

"Lucky him."

The cashier at the counter looks as though they'll fall asleep as they bag your items: the Arnicare and a bottle of dark green nail polish. "I swear I'm not typically this impulsive." You call over your shoulder as the cashier hands you the receipt and you stuff your things into your purse. Viktor walks up and puts his items on the counter - allergy medication and a pack of multicolored pens, presumably for grading - and turns to you while fishing out his wallet.

"Somehow, I highly doubt that." He pauses, thinking over his next words, "Not that being impulsive is a bad thing. I could stand to be more impulsive." It's an apology where there doesn't need to be one.

You shrug, "No offense taken, because you're right. I was...just trying to save face."

"Why?"

"Well…" Why were you trying to save face? "I feel, maybe a professor wouldn't be so inclined to hang out with someone so uninhibited? Some people call me childish." As he takes the small bag from the cashier, you find his eyes again, and they are full of mirth.

"Firstly, not a professor. I'm a PhD student at the University not far from here. We, as TA's, usually get saddled with grading assignments and papers." He walks forward with you, letting you walk through the automated doors first, probably so you can lead the way to the coffee shop.

"Secondly, I disagree. Impulsivity does not automatically equate to childishness. Some people say impulsive, I say driven, or passionate. Spontaneity is life." You stare at him unabashedly as you walk. This man, Viktor, waxing poetic about the benefits of impulsivity on your behalf. He's smart, obviously, but not in a haughty I'm Better Than You way. It's refreshing. And while you may not be a traditional academic, you understand to some level.

The cold bites at your skin, and you regret your decision to forgo a jacket, so you shiver when you tell him, "You're incredibly good at making me feel better about myself. I bet your students love you." He laughs at that - you're noticing that you seem to be quite good at making him laugh - and shakes his head disapprovingly

Then, guilty, "Not when I'm assigning pop quizzes after returning from winter break and calling them out for using AI."

"Ok the AI thing I completely understand, but assigning a pop quiz after a break is just cold on so many levels." College wasn't that cruel to you, but there had been many a quiz that you bombed simply because you hadn't been prepared for them. One or two that immediately followed a break.

The coffee shop comes up quickly and you move to open the door, but he's faster, shifting his bag to his elbow and grabbing the door for you as he quips, "Ah, so I see you would've been one of the students who failed that quiz." He's teasing you, and it's working.

"I can neither confirm nor deny. Although don't look at my freshman year grades. They force the art kids to take two semesters of stats and…it was just a fucking torpedo into my GPA."

"Fair enough." His laugh is quickly starting to become one of your favorite sounds.

The warmth of the dimly lit shop is nice, especially after just being out in the cold. It seeps into your bones and mercifully leeches out some of the pain in your hip.

The shop is small, quaint, and its setup reminds you of a library. Secluded booths and tables with individual lamps on them, bookshelves lining the walls, and everything made out of dark wood. Viktor looks around in awe for a moment, then, "How have I never stumbled onto this place before?"

You mentally pat yourself on the back. It had been a few years ago that you'd found this place. After a bit of an insane night out cut short by a friend getting you kicked out of the bar, you frantically searched for food places open late. This place immediately popped up leading you and your friends to feast on pastries and sandwiches washed down by the most delicious coffee you'd ever had.

"I was just lucky. When you're drunk and hungry, you can find anything." You walk towards the back of the shop, picking out a booth in the corner, "Is this ok?"

Viktor nods, hanging his cane off the table and shrugging out of his jacket. There is a moment where you feel you might keel over right there, but it is through sheer power of will that you remain standing, because holy hell this man is attractive. He's wearing a three-quarter sleeve black turtleneck that clings to his body in a way that's not loose, nor is it skin-tight. You can see the barest hint of something underneath, perhaps a back brace to help with stability. Sitting down in the booth, you try to avert your eyes to no avail, as they roam over the dark brown slacks sitting high on his waist. It's a miracle you're not drooling. Staring down at the red, long sleeve sweater you'd paired with a deep brown skirt, you can't help but think we match.

He sits down slowly, and you recognize the strategy to minimize pain, then folds his hands in front of him. "So, freshman year statistics? I believe you called it a 'fucking torpedo'?"

"Of course you picked up on that."

"Well, you were rather emphatic about it." The smugness is radiating off of him in waves and it stokes the fire in your gut.

Huffing, "Not everyone can be a whiz at math and science. I mean, what are you getting your PhD in?"

It looks like he's biting back a shit eating grin, "Biomedical engineering."

"Oh fuck off."

He releases the hold over the grin he was hiding and you're blinded by it. It absolutely makes sense, in retrospect. His analytical gaze, as if taking things apart in his mind and putting them back together, even just the way he speaks, so sure and confident. Your mouth opens to say something but a waitress decides that moment is a prime opportunity to get your drink orders.

Viktor orders a Turkish coffee and you order a French vanilla iced latte with cinnamon. As the waitress leaves, he wrinkles his nose.

"You call that coffee? It is just sugar. And iced? It's freezing out."

"Oh so first you critique my grade in stats, and now you attack my coffee order? You hate me and want me dead." Your arms fold in front of your chest as you stare at him in mock challenge. His hands shift to rest on his biceps, fingers spreading over the evidently lean muscle there and you fight to keep your breathing steady.

"I retract my statement, I bare you no ill will."

"Yeah you better, me and my sugar coffee will beat the shit out of your boiled coffee grounds." Now it's his turn to raise his eyebrows.

"You mock my drink, a traditional drink from my home country? Now you hate me and want me dead."

A warmth pours over your cheeks and you feel it heat the tips of your ears, all the way down to your shoulders. Something flashes in his gaze that tells you he definitely noticed.

"Touche." It's only a minute more before the waitress returns with your orders, said minute filled with meaningful glances and sitting adjustments on your part, your hip still aches slightly, but it's easier to ignore at this point.

You're mid sip when he fixes you with a stare, hands wrapped around his own drink, and asks, "So I can rule out anything to do with statistics, but what do you do, miss (name)? I believe you referred to yourself as an 'art kid'?"

Ah, the tricky part of explaining what you do to an academic. Not to say you weren't an academic yourself, just…a very different flavor of it.

"Yeah. In college I dual majored in Psychology and Theatre Arts. So I feel like I play both sides of the field, despite how many of the other scientists refuse to recognize psychology as a science." You spit the word as if it were a dagger, still holding a vendetta against your 11th-grade physics teacher who called it a pseudo-science.

"But my real love is Theatre. Whether it be Musicals or Shakespeare, it's my passion. I dialect coach on the side to make extra money, but mostly I love performing." There it was, out in the open. Would he call you foolish? Tell you to get a real career? Get up and leave? Probably not, but anxiety can lead you to places you wouldn't dare venture with a gun.

Pensive, he sits, staring at you with renewed interest, "Your impulsivity must suit you well in that career path, always having to think on ones feet and remain immersed in the moment." You instantly smile again.

"Exactly! There have been so many times when people have forgotten their lines and I've had to come up with something on the fly. It's…exhilarating." There's a certain sparkle that lights up your face whenever you talk about theatre, it's your passion, you can't help it. You only hope it translates.

"I know it must seem silly, pursuing the arts. Hell you're probably going to go on to change the world in a field like 'biomedical engineering'." You muse, leaning your cheek into your hand as you meet his eyes. It flatters him, you can tell, as he shifts in his seat, puffing his chest out slightly in pride.

"While I thank you for your vote of enthusiasm, I do not find it silly to pursue the arts at all."

"You don't?"

"No. I find it inspiring that you are pursuing your dream. I am pursuing mine. We should all chase after what we want." His eyes are thoughtful, kind, and you want to swim in them forever.

A beat, then, "A lot of people have called me stupid. But I can't see myself doing anything else. I know it's cheesy to say, but it feels fated. Like, I'm supposed to be doing this. It's what my atoms traveled billions of years to do." Staring into your cup, you're hit with the intensity of this confession. It's not something you tell to most people.

"And…" he clears his throat, "I think it is the most admirable thing one can do, to follow what you believe your destiny to be." Good god you like this man, you like Viktor. Not just as an infatuation or a crush, you want to get to know him.

"Thank you, Viktor." Another sip of your drink and the sugar spurs you onward, "Do you happen to like theatre? I'm sure an English lit class somewhere forced you to read at least one Shakespeare play. They did always seem to make the STEM kids suffer through classic literature as some sort of revenge for putting us art kids through math." His gaze fixes you to your spot and you find that even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to pull away from it. It's hypnotizing and has you pinned with the sheer force of it. You were learning that above all else, Viktor had a quiet intensity to him.

"I have read my fair share of Shakespeare as well as a few greek plays, but I admit, I read them mostly from an analytical standpoint, and not for mere enjoyment or to marvel in the artistry. My favorite would probably have to be Macbeth, though." He takes another sip of his coffee that still has steam curling off the top of it.

You nod approvingly, "A splendid choice. Your aesthetic certainly fits the more tragic, macabre, dramatic plays. Though I could see you enjoying Much Ado About Nothing."

"I…thank you?" Eyebrows pinched in confusion, he laughs.

"No, no it's a compliment! You just have a very…dark acedmia, gothic vibe to you. it…it tracks."

He leans back in his seat, "Gothic?"

"Yeah. it's incredibly attractive don't worry."

…

Wait-

"Incredibly attractive you say?" And he's sipping on his coffee again, watching as that all too familiar flush spreads over your skin again. Damn your mouth.

"You…I…hell-" You sip your coffee in an effort to keep yourself quiet. He's making you bolder, making you feel comfortable, loosening your tongue, beckoning you into the sea like a siren and you're not sure if you'll be able to tread water.

"Hey," his voice is soft, coaxing, "for what it is worth, I too find you incredibly attractive. I'm sorry, I did not mean to make you so flustered." The sincerity in his voice has you reeling. Placing your coffee down, you rubs at your cheeks with your hands.

"Somehow, I find it hard to believe you're that sorry when you seem so pleased with yourself watching me flush." You accuse, somewhat parroting what he said about you denying your impulsivity. Now it's his turn to flush, his pale cheeks turning rosey at having being caught.

A comfortable silence washes over the both of you momentarily as you sit with the confessions that have just been made. Well…it's nice to know that the attraction is mutual. Both of your coffee's were near finished by this point, and there was a part of you that regretted how fast you drank it.

"How is your leg?" He breaks the silence after the waitress returns to take away your empty glasses. You roll your hips slightly, testing the tension and how far the pain radiates.

"Mm, better. Could be worse, it's starting to ebb finally, but I'm still planning on slathering that Arnicare you recommended all over my leg and laying in my bed until the pain finally goes away." You conclude, hoping to God that the Arnicare works as well as he's hyping it up. "Maybe go crazy and light a lavender candle."

He's digging something out of his bag as he responds, "I'm glad it is feeling slightly better. I fully endorse the Arnicare, it has helped me immensely over the years and I trust it will help you too." The waitress returns to drop off the check and it's too late that you realize Viktor had been looking for his wallet as he places money in the little booklet and hands it back to her with a soft, "Keep the change."

You stare at him in mock offense.

"What?"

"Don't what me, you didn't even let me attempt-"

"There was no universe in which I was going to let you pay, so why even entertain it?"

"Let me pay? You are evil." But you're smiling as you slide out of the booth.

"Maybe so." Is all he says as he stands up, readjusting his shirt and grabbing for his coat. Checking your watch, you realize it's 10:45 and you've spent nearly an hour with this man, and yet it feels as though it's only been minutes. Bidding goodnight to the workers, you bothexit the shop and are hit with a blast of cold air.

"Why are you…you did not bring a jacket?" Viktor stares at you as if you've grown another head. "Are you…it is below freezing out!"

You pause, and breathe in the crisp cold air, "I like the cold, it's not so bad, I promise I'm ok." But he's already moving to grab the scarf from around his neck and balance his cane on his arm.

"Viktor-"

"Shush." Your mouth shuts and you let him wind the red scarf around your neck. It smells like him, woody and warm and you know you'll be breathing it in later.

"Bláznivá žena." He murmurs in what you can only assume is his mother tongue.

"Well, that didn't sound very nice." You chide. His hands still as he finishes securing the scarf. Whatever he was about to say dies on his lips as he stares down at you. Despite the freezing air swirling around you, everything suddenly feels warm. And you know how cliche it sounds, but truly, it feels as though the world melts away and you are stuck in this little circle of warmth.

He looks from your eyes to your lips, "Can I-"

"Absolutely." You answer far too quickly. He laughs again, and its lighter than the others, as if a weight has been taken off of his chest and the laugh had been filled with air, just waiting to escape.

He wastes no time in bringing his hands up to your wind bitten cheeks and pulling your lips to his. They're slightly chapped, but warm and sure and soft as he kisses you. Your breath is gone and you realize every cheesy thing you've ever read about kisses is true. It is all encompassing and earth-shattering. If you knew anything about physics you would say that it feels like atoms colliding.

Seconds, minutes, hours, you don't know how long it is before you finally detach. You leave your eyes closed for a few seconds more, basking in the feeling.

"Wow." It's barely a whisper when you finally speak, opening your eyes to find him staring down at you, smiling unabashedly.

"My thoughts, exactly." His hands slips down your shoulders before one of them finds your hand, the other taking his cane as he leads you back to the parking lot. It's nice, just walking hand in hand with him to your cars.

"This is me." You murmur sadly as you come upon your car, parked in the handicapped parking spot. He stops and looks at you in disbelief, and you furrow your brows in confusion. His hand detaches from yours, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his car keys, clicking the unlock button. The car parked directly next to your beeps and unlocks. You'd parked right next to one another and you absolutely lose it, doubling over in laughter.

"Oh my god that is crazy."

"Well, given the fact that we both have handicapped stickers-"

"Nope, shush, let me have this." You turn back to him after catching your breath and hold out your hand, "Let me see your phone."

He obliges, even unlocking it for you before dropping it into your waiting hand. With half numb fingers, you input your phone number and contact info before returning it to him.

"To let you know how well your recommendation works." You smile as you head toward your drivers side door, unlocking it and sliding into the seat so quickly, you leave Viktor stunned. He shakes his head in mock annoyance and walks over to your window, tapping on it until you roll it down.

"Yes?" But he's leaning in and kissing you again, stealing the breath right out of your lungs. When he pulls away, you're left just as stunned as he was.

"Nothing, just wanted to say Goodnight." He walks off, gets into his own car, right next to you, and drives off, all while you're sitting in your car, window still down, and processing what just happened as the cold blasts you.

Wordlessly, you roll up your window and smile uncontrollably.

For the first time in your life, you are thankful for your chronic pain.

#viktor x reader #viktor x you #arcane x reader #arcane x you #viktor arcane #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor x you #arcane #arcane league of legends #x reader #izzy writes #izzys ramblings

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novemberheart · 4 months ago

Text

{overview} The cycle completes itself

{warnings} fem reader, poly 141, a/b/o dynamics, MDNI, p in v smex, mating cycles, marking, cursing, Simon and John chapter

Chapter 33 <- Chapter 34 -> Chapter 35

It wasn't like how everyone had described it.

It wasn't some euphoric high, that had you screaming with pleasure.

It wasn't painful.

It was gentle.

It was stable.

It was secure.

You were no longer alone in the world.

You were protected, loved, and valued.

You weren't alone in the world.

You were safe.

You were no longer alone in the world.

Warmth flooded you. Tears rolled down your cheeks. Your heartbeat slowed in your chest, your muscles relaxing. Those three seconds felt like a lifetime, your mind moving from its halt to overdrive. You leaned forward your teeth catching his shoulder completing the cycle. He growled against you, the vibrations going straight through your new mark.

It burned.

Hands grabbed you ready to pull you away. He wasn't deep enough in his rut for it to not hurt. He held up his hand to stop them, his mouth still refusing to leave your neck.

He had experienced much worse for far less reward.

He knew this might’ve happened when he marked you. It would only be natural for you to return the favor.

The initial pain left, a sudden wave of iciness crashing over him. It was welcomed compared to the feeling of being lit on fire from the inside out. He was changing. Every fiber of his being altering to better serve you. He was no longer just an alpha.

He was your alpha.

The greatest title one could have.

His fangs throbbed at the excursion and he finally felt satisfied enough to detach himself. He licked across the teeth indents, his saliva the perfect remedy to help it heal nicely. Couldn't have you walking around butchered after all. You whined against him, the warmth leaving your body in an instant.

You wished the feeling stayed. You whimpered, your fangs shrinking back to their normal size, your mouth detaching from his shoulder with a pop. Your mind worked on its own, instincts running hot. Your tongue soothed over the spot, sending a pleasant shiver up his spine. The two of you were useless, needing all the help you could get to roll you together. You both woke up a bit from the jostling, you pushing your way under his tank top to press against his chilled skin. They built a nest around you as best they could, you still clinging onto Johnny’s shirt. Their bodies acted like walls to keep out even the idea of any threats entering this sanctuary. Simon's eyes met theirs- hazy yet thankful, before lulling to sleep.

He woke up to your teeth on his arm. He chuckled lowly, his hand smoothing over the back of your head.

“Yes, pretty girl?” He murmured, nothing but patience and adoration in his voice. You smiled up at him cheekily, rolling onto your back, exposing your neck to him. Simon's bite was developing nicely. It was too bruised to make out the details yet. “One bite wasn't enough, hmmmm?” he grumbled, his teeth grazing against your chest.

“No,” you breathed in agreement. Your body twitched in excitement, your hands wandering around his body. John had the perfect balance of muscle and fat, warmth and strength.

You purred at his scent. His normal campfirey scent weighted down by the scent of an alpha in a rut. You preened at the thought that you were the one that brought the scent forward.

“What do you need, sweet girl?” He hummed, his lips soft against your shoulder.

“You,” you mumbled, your fingers racking through his hair. “And maybe a bath?” you added, making him chuckle.

“I like the sound of both of those,” He smiled, already moving to stand. Simon was still out like a light next to you. “How ‘bout we leave that here so it doesn't get wet,” John suggested.

“Simon?” you questioned softly. John's shoulders shook as he laughed, his hands reaching out to grab at Johnny’s shirt you were still clinging to.

“This, sweetheart,” he said softly, pulling it away from you. You flushed, rolling your eyes at yourself. You didn't have time to dwell on it, his hands hoisting you up from under your pits. You were about to insist on being able to walk, but the feeling of being so close to him quickly drowned that out.

He drew the two of you a bath, his thumbs already beginning to loosen the tight muscles that had formed.

“Where are the betas,” you questioned, your hands smoothing over his broad chest.

“Your betas are getting us some lunch,” he responded instantly. “How does your bite feel?”

“Fine,” you assured. It only stung a bit when you got some of the warm water on it. Your body wasn't rejecting it. You sighed, resting your head against his chest. His heartbeat could easily lull you to sleep, your eyes already growing heavy, yet your body had other plans.

“Alpha,” you whined, resting your chin against his chest, and staring up at him. He groaned, leaning down so his forehead was against yours. He pressed a kiss against your head, shushing you softly, continuing to clean. He maneuvered you so your back was against his chest.

You purred as his soapy hand ducked between your thighs.

“Easy, pretty,” he soothed one large hand prying your legs apart. His thumb ran over your folds, before settling on a lazy rhythm against your little bundle of nerves. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, your hips rolling against his hand.

He pulled his hand away.

You growled nastily at him and he swatted your bottom. He put you on your feet and wrapped you in a fluffy towel, letting the tub drain out. He turned over his shoulder staring at you expectantly.

“I'm sorry for growling at you,” you mumbled, your eyes shining with tears. You should know better than to egg an alpha on while he was in a rut. He placed a kiss against your lips.

“S’alright sweetheart,” he soothed. His eyes were soft, almost like the interaction had amused him. “Now how about you hop up on the counter and spread those pretty legs for me, hmmm?”

“You two done in there?” Simon grunted from the bed. John chuckled, seemingly unfazed by the brutal pounding that just took place in the bathroom. John tossed you on the bed, Simon's hand immediately spreading across your lower stomach. Could he feel John's warmth from there? You sighed happily, stretching your sore- but satisfied limbs against the sheets.

You could faintly hear a ruckus coming from the living room, John rolling his eyes.

“Betas must be back,” he nearly chuckled. He moved towards the door, throwing an ‘I’ll be back’ over his shoulder.

You rubbed at your tired eyes, slowly rolling them over to look at Simon.

He was already staring at you.

Your breath hitched in your throat, the overwhelming desire to press yourself so close to him so you would be joined together forever.

His jaw was clenched shut, his eyes unsure of what to do. Tears welled in them, and he quickly cleared his throat beginning to move away from you.

“No!” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “You’re my alpha now,” you breathed. “You can't just pull away from me because you feel something, Simon. Please don't run away from it,” your words were desperate, your face buried in his neck, your cheek brushing against the mark on his shoulder. “I need you,” you whined, your grip on his tightening.

His body relaxed from above yours causing both of you to sink into the mattress.

“Then you'll have me,” he muttered with absolute certitude. The sentiment was more powerful than an ’I love you.’ For Simon, the act of giving himself was more terrifying and meaningful than throwing around those three overused words.

He groaned against you as you slammed your lips into his. It was sloppy, relentless, and passionate just like your relationship with him.

“Wanted to make you mine for so long, pup,” he groaned, his tongue flattening against the mark on your skin. His mark. His mouth swallowed yours again, the thick fabric of his sweats not able to hide the throbbing member confined in them. “Whose mark is this?” he growled, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep them spread.

“Yours,” you panted. “My alphas,” you gasped. He vibrated against you, the purr in his chest feeling like a bolt of lightning against your skin. Your hands scratched at his broad torso, pulling at the light gray fabric.

You could feel his smirk against you as he kissed the various love bites that littered your skin.

“Can I take you, pup?” he murmured against you. You nodded rapidly, rolling your hips up to meet his. The question was; could you take him? You couldn't even bring yourself to look, keeping your eyes steady on the ceiling. He clicked his tongue at you, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ll go slow, pup. Won't hurt at all,” he assured. You rested your hands on either side of his cheek, connecting your lips with his.

It felt so right being in his arms. Looking back now all the fights and feelings you had towards him felt silly, but it made you appreciate this moment all the more. Your hands rolled down his body, pulling at the hem of his tank top. You faltered when you felt him flinch.

“Can I?” you whispered. “It is mine after all,” you smiled up at him. He smirked, nodding softly. He pulled the tank over his head, dropping it to the floor. Your stomach turned a bit at the painful scars that littered him. The biggest going all the way from his collar down to his ribs. One spot caught your eye. A burn mark on his hip, just peeking out over the waistband of his sweats.

“Look familiar?” he teased softly, following your gaze.

You wiped your eyes.

“It does.”

It was the injury that sent you to them.

How far you all have come.

You traced your hands over every inch of him. He let you, his eyes shutting softly. You paused at your mark, running your fingers over the sore flesh. It had already begun to heal and scab over. It looked a little funny next to John's large one, but they complimented each other. Your hands pulling at his sweats caused his eyes to open.

“Alright, sweet girl,” he hushed, helping you shake his pants off. Your eyes still refused to look down at him, feeling the weight of him slap between your thighs was enough. He pushed the pillows around and brought the blanket up over the two of you, a sentiment that made your omega purr. He was building a nest for the both of you. You rested your heated cheek against his shoulder, taking a deep breath when you felt the head of his cock catch against your entrance.

The push-in was slow, your body greedily accepting every inch and stretch. You thought it was safe to look down, figuring you were almost there only to see only half of him buried inside you. Your head flopped against the pillow, your half-lidded eyes meeting his. You were too embarrassed to admit the pressure building in your stomach was about to snap.

“Simon,” you mumbled, your thighs shaking around his waist.

“Doin’ so good, pup,” he breathed. His thumb circled your clit lazily, a rough growl leaving him as you came around his cock. “That easy?” he grumbled, teeth biting at your cheek.

“Feels so good,” you gasped, your hands resting on your shaky thighs.

“Wasn’t even fully in and you’re already comin’ around me?” he smirked. “Such a good omega,” he praised, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You grew restless when he refused to move, his eyes taking in every inch of you.

“Simon,” you muttered, wiggling your hips. He snarled, large hands keeping you in place. “You’re too big to stay still like that,” you whined. It wasn't unpleasant, it was a toe-curling fullness, but the spasming happening throughout your body was wearing on you. “Simon, please,” you continued.

“Fuckin’ made for me weren't you?” he mumbled, sending a shockwave through you. The last bit of his self restraint snapping when you rippled around him. He pulled out just enough for you to miss the fullness before pushing his hips back into yours. You couldn't help but squeak your hands grabbing at the pillows for support. He grabbed your hands guiding them to his shoulders. “Don’t worry about scratching me up, pup,” he purred, his pace quickening before you could process his words. Truth be told he wanted you to claw at him. He wanted every bit of proof, every bit of assurance that this was real. You were here. Under him and marked, beautiful wet eyes staring up at him with such feeling he couldn't hold your gaze for as long as he craved to.

God, did he fucking love you.

You whined when you felt a growing bulge at the base of his cock.

“Don't worry ‘bout that, pretty,” Simon panted, holding himself sheathed inside you. It was a pattern for him, give you five or six hard thrusts before keeping himself buried to the hilt inside you for as long as he wanted.

“I want it,” you whined, nails dragging up his sides.

“Yeah?” he questioned breathlessly. He pushed his hips deeper, the tip of his knot pushing you closer to your limit. You didn't care though. You needed it. Needed to be filled by your alpha. It was the only thing that would make you better. The only thing that would calm the fire blazing through your veins.

“Need it,” you added through a shriek. His thrusts were rhythmic now, working you open as much as he could to take his knot. “Yes,” you repeated like a mantra. It only spurred him on, his hips halting against yours, favoring to slowly bully his knot into your pretty cunt. “Simon,” you moaned.

You came with a scream, your body shaking against the bed as his knot pushed into place at just the right moment for every ounce of his cum to be locked into you. He pressed you into the mattress, his face burying in your neck as he came with a gritted groan, his own shoulders twitching from pleasure.

The room was nearly quiet, except for the thrumming of both your heartbeats. Neither of you could move even if you wanted to, too blissed out for your own good.

“Comfortable?” he checked, having to dig deep to get his vocal cords to work. You nodded softly, wrapping an arm around his neck to keep him as close as possible.

“Yes, alpha,” you sighed, completely and utterly content.

He waited till you were asleep to let a tear fall from his eye.

After years he finally had something he had always denied himself.

A pack.

You were grumpy when you woke up. Your body still exhausted from all the strenuous activity it had been put through.

Your alphas didn't seem to mind at all. Their fingers and lips trying to gently smooth the frown off your pretty face. You felt a bit better after eating, yet you could hardly hold the spoon. Kyle was happy to feed you, wanting to return the favor after you had so dutifully taken care of him.

You took another bath and were ushered into a clean bed with clean sheets. You should be happy. Yet there was one thing weighing on your mind.

One half of your neck felt empty.

“Bloody do it,” Simon huffed, his alpha on edge from your attitude.

“Please,” you added, through wet lashes. Your hands reach forward tangling themselves in the soft fabric of his shirt. Your lips ghosted over his pulse. Right there. Right, in plain sight, but could still easily be covered by facial hair or a scarf if needed.

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he lulled, tilting his head back to allow you the room you needed. You didn’t need to be told twice, your fangs already throbbing at the sight. They sunk in with ease, a confirmation it was the perfect spot. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, his hand gripping onto Simon’s arm to steady himself. His jaw fell open, spots appearing in his vision as a wave of peace flooded over him. It was an addictive high. One that he knew he’d be chasing through you till the bitter end. You released him, your tongue soothing over the area just like Simon had taught you.

“Think you broke him, love,” Simon chuckled, watching as John’s eyes grew hazy from the euphoric high. A shiver ran up his spine as those same eyes zeroed in on your neck. Simon rested a hand against your cheek, tilting your head back to give John the perfect view. “Relax, pup,” Simon smiled down at you softly, making your eyes well up. His thumb ran under your eye, trying to ignore his own pounding heart as he felt your heartbeat quicken. You could feel John’s teeth hit your neck, not giving you a moment of relief as they sunk into your tender flesh.

You felt a moment of bliss before passing out.

It wasn't completely uncalled for, you had been through a lot not only this week but today.

The pleased smile across your face gives them no room for worry.

As silence settled over the three of you, one known fact cut the silence in the air.

A new phase of your lives was underway.

Hi friends! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! This will be the last chapter of SECTION 1 of As Needed. Section 2 will begin in THREE DAYS! Lots of love!

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woso-dreamzzz · 7 months ago

Text

Flag III

Frida Maanum x Emma Lennartsson x Baby!Reader

Summary: When Emma and Frida found you

Frida is leaving for England.

Arsenal have been interested in her since the season began so it was only natural that she went off there to develop her career further.

But, still, Emma doesn't want to see Frida leave.

Frida occupies a space in Emma's heart that she can't put into words. Frida is everything to her, the air, the ground, the sky and the stars.

But Emma would never discourage Frida from finding her place in a league abroad.

Frida deserves everything in life, even if it's half a world away from where Emma is looking after their home in Sweden.

It will be different in the beginning, Emma knows this, but together there isn't much they can't overcome.

But, still, she'll miss the way Frida's body feels against hers. Even now, as they sneak around the back of the training centre to kiss.

It's not the most professional they've ever been but she just can't help herself when it comes to Frida.

"E-Emma," Frida says in a hushed tone, pushing Emma's roaming lips from her neck," Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Emma pulls away, glancing around for whatever errant sound Frida has heard.

"I..."

There's nothing but the breeze in the wind, the rustle of leafless branches in the height of winter.

It's absolutely freezing. It's predicted that this is to be the coldest day of the year.

"Nothing," Frida says," I must have imagined it."

Emma's lips go back to her neck, leaving dainty kisses all over her skin. Each one a labour of love, red hot in a way that feels beautiful as the snow falls around them.

Emma stops though, pulling away again.

"No," She says," Wait. I think I can hear it too."

It's faint, barely audible whimpers and whines that are getting more and more quiet as they go on.

But Emma and Frida are alone in an icy cold wasteland.

There's not even birds in the trees. Yet, now that Emma's straining her ears, she can hear the noises with crystal clear clarity.

She shivers as another freezing breeze cuts through her like a knife.

"I...I think it's coming from over there," Frida says, looking over at the clump of dense bushes over by the bins.

"Stay here," Emma says, wary of if it's some wild animal," I'll go and luck."

"Emma-"

"Stay here, Frida. I'll check it out."

She approaches the bushes carefully, slowly in case the animal jumps at her.

But there's no animal.

Just you.

"Emma?" Frida calls, watching as Emma lowers herself to her knees," What is it?"

Emma turns, a singular blanket in her hold and, in that blanket, is you.

"I...I think we need to call an ambulance," She says shakily," I-I think she's been abandoned."

You're tiny, smaller than any baby that Frida's ever seen before. You don't look good either. You're obviously freezing, little lips turning a concerning shade of purple and the cries from your mouth are getting quieter and quieter the longer you're outside.

Teammates clamber over themselves to help when Emma and Frida run in with you.

Somewhere along the way, Frida loses her top when it's clear that you're either nearly hypothermic or already developing it. Skin-to-skin seems to be what's best for you as you lay weakly on Frida's chest with layers of blankets over you both.

Now that she can see you properly, it's with a sinking feeling that she realises how underweight you actually are. You're nothing but skin and bones as Frida holds you close while they wait for the ambulance.

"They're calling her the Linköping baby," Emma says softly," The staff and the girls, that is. Word has spread pretty quickly."

"That's unfair," Frida replies, her own voice barely above a whisper as she feels your lungs inflate shakily against her," They can't call her that. She needs a name."

"They don't think she's going to survive," Emma says," Even before the ambulance gets here. She's in bad shape. They don't think she's going to make it."

"And you?" Frida finally tears her eyes away from you to look at her girlfriend. "What do you think?"

"I think..."

Your head barely pokes out from under all of the blankets, your eyes half open. You're not moving much. It seems to almost be too much effort to even breath, like everything in you is fighting to do something as basic and instinctual as that.

Emma didn't know what to expect when she looked in that bush. You were laying there, weak and unmoving in just a singular blanket and a thin onesie. One could almost mistake you for being asleep if it weren't from the stilted way your chest rose and fell and the way faint noises would escape your mouth every so often.

"I think...I think she's a fighter."

"I think so too."

Emma can tell what Frida's thinking before Frida herself even knows what she's thinking. She can tell by the way Frida's holding, you the way she's looking at you, the way she presses a soft kiss to the wispy hair at the top of your head.

Emma can tell because she's thinking the exact same thing.

"She looks like you," Emma says, starting off gently," Don't you think?"

Frida giggles a little bit. "I was thinking she had your nose. What part of her looks like me exactly?"

"Her hair, maybe," Emma says," And I'm sure once she opens this eyes of hers, they'll be like yours."

"You don't know that."

"I think I do."

"She might never open them," Frida says suddenly," If everyone is thinking she won't come out of this. They might never open."

"She will. She's a fighter."

Frida's throat bobs. "But if she doesn't...What would they even put on her grave? The Linköping baby?"

"You want to name her?"

"Everyone deserves a name. No matter how little they are."

"Then name her."

"I-"

"Ambulance is here," One of their teammates pokes their heads through the door," Medics are coming in now. They said to stay put."

"Y/N," Frida says suddenly.

"Huh?" Emma asks.

"She looks like a y/n."

You're tiny and malnourished and halfway to death's door. The possibility of you surviving the night is astronomically low.

But you have a name now and, in Emma's mind, you have a bedroom at home. A bedroom with a soft, warm crib and a dog companion who would just adore you. A bedroom in a house full of toys and soft clothes and two mothers who would adore you too.

A first name and a last name from the mothers who found you freezing cold in the dead of winter, buried in a bush as snow fell over you.

"Yeah," Emma says as the paramedics rush in," She does."

#woso x reader #frida maanum x reader #frida maanum #emma lennartsson x reader #emma lennartsson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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arias-diaryy · 14 days ago

Text

Soft Underbelly

Nobunaga Hazama x Reader

Synopsis: The samurai has pride in keeping his prize safe (despite how terribly he’s doing it).

Warnings: yandere, fem reader, mentioned physical abuse.

3.4k words ... my first fic in a long while, big big big thank you to my beta reader who also came up with the synopsis lmfao

Under normal circumstances, there would be a back and forth before bath time.

Nobunaga’s working the third round of shampoo into your hair, grumbling under his breath when he still finds debris in your locks. Considerably less, given all the work he’s put in, but he still finds a stray leaf in your hair. He flicks it out of your head, brows furrowing. There isn’t any water in the tub, he’s just been rinsing you off over and over with the handheld showerhead.

It’s cold, and normally you’d be afforded the luxury of warm water. This time, Nobunaga was more interested in getting you clean rather than waiting for the water to heat up. You’ve been without clothes too many times in his presence to still feel overly embarrassed about it, though that doesn’t mean you’re comfortable about it. Nobunaga is crouched on the ground outside of the bathtub, washing you as if you were a labrador covered in mud. His sleeves still got water on them despite being rolled up to his elbows, and his hair is pulled back into a low ponytail to keep it out of the way. If he’s leered at you, you haven’t noticed. You’ve been desperate to avoid eye contact.

When he holds the showerhead up and over your body, the water runs down clearer than it did the last few times. There was dirt before, being washed away by the soap and pressure of the water. You and Nobunaga both internally cringed when the water ran red the first few times; you even moreso when the soap got into the cuts and scrapes littering your skin. He fussed over them, still does, you don’t expect anything less. Every cut he sees, he clicks his tongue and asks where it came from. “I don’t know” quickly becomes your default answer.

You wonder if he feels any bit vindicated, seeing you with blood and dirt under your nails, and twigs in your hair. All those “the outside world is too much for you” talks replay in your head, and your nails begin to dig into your palms out of frustration.

“Don’t do that.” Nobunaga says sternly, having caught the motion in his peripheral. You’re shaken out of your frustration, uncurling your hands. He’s perceptive enough to catch that, but not enough to realize that you want nothing to do with him? He furrows his brows a little more, his hands still in your hair and lathering it up with the shampoo. It smells like fruit, it smells girly. Juvenile, almost.

“I’m not doing anything.” Nobunaga doesn’t say anything to you, removing his hands from your hair and grabbing the showerhead again. He makes a point of angling it more towards your face, and you flinch when the cold water hits you like a hard smack. You shut your eyes as the shampoo suds roll off your head and your face. One of his hands returns to your head, tousling up your hair and rinsing the shampoo out of it. The near icy water doesn’t help with your shivering, and you don’t think you’re in any position to be asking for hot water.

“I’m not a dog, I can bathe myself.” You say, halfway under your breath. Nobunaga might have rolled his eyes, but to do that, he’d have to momentarily stop looking at you, something he isn’t keen on doing. “I didn’t say you were one.” He doesn't address your stewing emotions, no matter how clearly they’re scrawled across your face. You have half the mind not to respond with a snarky comment.

There’s a pit in your stomach. There’s been one for quite a while. You assumed it was anxiety, but now you think it could also be an ulcer. Sometimes it gets so great that you think there’s really something wrong with you. Sizzling, contorting, creeping its way up into your chest. You felt it most in the first two weeks, and it’s waxed and waned since then. It’s spiked considerably from the moment Nobunaga found you again to now. It isn’t helped by the fact that you were expecting some sort of punishment; a sick retribution from him for trying to leave, and it has yet to come.

…The fact that your escape lasted less than 6 hours probably has something to do with how he’s behaving. Oh, he’s annoyed, you didn’t need to be told. Though, you suppose he didn’t expend enough effort in finding you to truly be outraged. Nobunaga had found you in the woods behind the house, having yanked you out of the hollowed log you squirmed into. In the moment, it seemed like a good enough hiding spot, once you had the horrifying realization that he wasn’t that far behind you. For all the metaphorical and literal slaps on the wrist you got from him, you can’t be faulted for thinking he’d have more of a reaction to you trying to leave him.

In retrospect, it would have been smarter to travel alongside the road by the house and hitch hike. But wasn’t that too obvious? Nobunaga had been out of the house at the time of your escape, you didn’t know when he would come back. What would you say if the car he stole came driving down the road, and he saw you with your thumb out like a dumbass on the side of the asphalt? Plus, you thought you would’ve had a few days to make some distance. If you knew he’d be coming back tonight, you would’ve waited.

You’re pretty sure your previous comment wasn’t an invitation to conversation, yet Nobunaga begins talking anyway. ��I can’t believe you, the one thing I told you not to do,” he chides. “and you didn’t even make it that far.” Nobunaga says it with a bit of humor, as if underneath his irritation, he finds this a little funny. Of course he does. Your hair feels like rubber with how much shampoo has been in it, and you despair internally when Nobunaga goes to put another dollop of it into your hair. “You’re lucky I found you before you got seriously hurt.” He scolds, roughy lathering the shampoo into your scalp one last time for good measure.

Despite it all, he’s still acting too flippant for your liking, you had expected him to… well, you aren’t sure. You’ve been on edge since before you even ran away, waiting for the eventual blow. Sure, he’s raised his voice at you and dragged you the whole way home, but you were still waiting for the worst of it. You thought he’d show his anger more, you did escape after all. The one thing he specifically forbade you to do.

(He also forbade you from locking doors and going near the stove without his supervision, but actually getting out of the house and making a break for it seemed more serious than any of the others).

You shut your eyes to keep shampoo from entering them, but it’s too late. They sting almost immediately and you let out a small hiss of pain. So much for tear free. Nobunaga leans closer, pausing in his lecturing. “Are you crying?” He asks in a less stern tone of voice. “No!” You say, but you doubt he believes you. After all, you are tearing up. You blink a few times, and there’s tears in your eyes, which are now red and irritated. Nobunaga brings his hand closer to wipe your tears away, and you flinch. He grabs your upper arm to keep you in place, and you tense up more than you knew possible.

“Are you sure?” He asks again, and you don’t like the way he’s saying it. He’s talking to you like you’re a kid who got caught in a lie. “You got shampoo in my eyes!” “Uh huh.” Nobunaga hums, disregarding your declaration and wiping your tears away with his free hand. Your eyes are really red, he thinks. Maybe a drop of shampoo did get in them, though he remains unconvinced that you aren’t at least a little regretful for trying to run away from him. You aren’t that heartless. You go to rub at your eyes, and Nobunaga grabs your wrist to stop you. You flinch again, and he clicks his tongue in irritation.

“Would you stop being difficult?” Nobunaga says, taking a firmer grasp of your wrist to emphasize his point. “I’m not being difficult.” “You are, you’re acting like I’m going to hit you.” “Are you?” You ask, and Nobunaga only looks at you like you’re challenging him. “Should I?”

You take a moment to respond. You can’t think of a smart answer, and although none of them feel outright wrong, none of them exactly feel right, either. “If I were you, I’d hit me.” It’s not a lie, if you were just half as deranged as Nobunaga, you probably would hit yourself. Nobunaga pauses for a moment, then laughs. As if it was some punchline to a joke. You aren’t as unsettled as you are relieved that he didn’t actually put his hands on you. At least he found it funny?

If you were him, you wouldn’t have deemed yourself worth the trouble. You would have gotten rid of yourself a long time ago, replaced yourself with another woman. One that looks similar enough to you, if appearances mattered. Yet everytime you would correct him, insist that you weren’t his girlfriend or anything of the sort, he’d wave you off and go on with whatever he was doing. You aren’t sure what he sees in you, it’s never stuck, no matter how many times he’s said it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.” Nobunaga finally says. “I already said before, I don’t want to hurt you.” You want to roll your eyes. He’s the one who brought the topic up. Sure, it’s not like he ever punched you in the jaw or anything, but he has a knack for manhandling you every now and then. Nobunaga keeps on talking, not that you had a reply or anything further to add to the conversation. He’s back to being stern with you. “Don’t think you’re off the hook yet. I’m still mad at you. What you did was stupid.” “I know.” You mumble, avoiding his harsh glare.

“You’re not going to do it again.” He says, more firmly this time. With the same lack of energy, you reply “I won’t”. Nobunaga looks like he has more to say, but stays quiet. A distinct smell of smoke and burning food wafts through the hallway and into the bathroom. The food Nobunaga tossed into the oven an hour ago…

He curses under his breath, his eyes going from the hallway to you. “Stay here.” He says, rising to his feet and leaving you in the bathtub alone, still with shampoo in your hair. You take it that it’ll take him a while to salvage dinner, so you take it upon yourself to finish your bath. You make sure to twist the shower handle to warmer water before taking the showerhead to get the shampoo out of your hair and eyes. The pit in your stomach hasn’t gone away, and the prospect of charred food for dinner isn’t easening your pain. You hadn’t spent long enough outside to be that hungry for Nobunaga’s culinary prowess, or lack thereof.

There was zero chance of Nobunaga scrapping dinner to just order takeout. In fact, that chance most likely plummeted to the negatives given the stunt you pulled earlier in the day. Still, dinner wasn’t a total waste. You could eat around the burnt pieces of chicken, which were few and far between. The rice was stickier than you would’ve liked. You doubt Nobunaga would be letting you handle the cooking for a while, it’s practically a given that certain privileges would be rescinded. Temporarily, you hope, but rescinded nontheless.

At least the vegetables came out fine.

Nobunaga sits down at the foot of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He looks over at you, laying flat on your back in bed with the blanket covering you. Your feet poke out from under the covers. Soft and warm, scratches on your soles. There’s a cut on the bottom of your left foot; it looks more like a thin slice of flesh was scraped clean off. Nobunaga can’t take his eyes off of it. He knows it’ll heal, but he can only run through all the different ways you garnered that injury.

He stares at your foot in his hand, brows furrowed. A sliver of him was impressed, perhaps a little endeared, that you were still clinging to this idea of not needing him. It was almost laughable, even more so given the state you were in when Nobunaga found you. Cold, exhausted, and hungry, you had somehow gotten two of your fingernails ripped off in the short time you were away from him. All that, and you had the gall to look at him as if he was somehow inconveniencing you by bringing you back home. You’d even tried to bite and scratch at him like some animal.

You really could be an ungrateful brat, sometimes. Maybe you were onto something about him hitting you.

If anything, he’s only more convinced of how pathetic you are. Endearingly so, but pathetic nonetheless. You deserve an achievement for managing to scratch yourself up so much in a few short hours without him, truth be told. Not that he enjoys seeing the cuts on your body, but he does consider himself a little bit smart for not letting you have shoes of any kind, even ones for inside the house. You probably would have gotten much farther if you weren’t out there with just some thin socks.

Nobunaga shifts a little closer, gingerly taking your left ankle and foot in his hands. The foot with the nasty cut on the bottom. He didn’t want you picking at it or even looking at it, so he’d made sure to bandage it properly. If you were awake, you’d jolt like a spooked animal and try to kick at him. Though he’d always known you as a light sleeper, you don’t even stir when Nobunaga touches you. That’s good, he thinks. You need the rest. All that scrambling in the forest probably took out all of your energy.

Even looking at your sleeping face now, it’s hard for the samurai to imagine that just hours ago you were shrieking at him to let you go, to not bring you back home. He’d spent almost an hour painstakingly removing every splinter of wood caught in your feet and hands; all while you were squirming and trying not to kick at him reflexively. Another hour was spent getting the rest of you cleaned up. It’s almost like you’d prefer being out in the cold than being kept warm and safe with him. It’s so preposterous, he could almost laugh at the thought.

…Though, he can’t pinpoint any other reason for you acting out. Unless that’s just what it was, misbehavior for the sake of it. Maybe you wanted more attention? That seemed plausible to Nobunaga. He can’t imagine that you’re thrilled when he leaves your side to go on Troupe missions. When he returned, it was always to you looking miserable, only cheering up now that he returned to you.

(It was because he had a tendency to lock up the television remote in his absence to keep you from watching something he didn’t want you seeing, and the fridge almost never seemed to be stocked with actual food before he left you in your lonesome. He still hadn’t connected the dots).

(...Though the prolonged lack of human interaction did do a number on you, as well).

He knows that to some degree, this is his fault. He’s been too lenient with you, too soft. Uvo had made a passing comment once that it’d do him some good to instill some fear into you. Just a little, to keep you from misbehaving. Nobunaga let you talk back and maintain some independence, and you turn around and try to run away from him.

He gave you an inch and you tried to take a mile. If your ploy was really to get more of his attention, then you’d succeeded. Nobunaga can’t imagine not keeping a closer eye on you for the coming months. That, and he’d finally get around to putting some bars on the windows. His gaze lingers on you, on your foot resting in his lap. He wonders if you know how lucky you are, that it’s him who’s keeping you safe and not any other Troupe member. Someone like Feitan surely would’ve killed you, or at least made you wish you were dead.

Nobunaga isn’t keen on taking a page out of Feitan’s book, though. He was generally averse to the idea of making you upset. He didn’t consider himself to be a bad man, one who hurts his woman. Sure, he’s killed more people than he can count and took great joy in it. He’s maimed women and children, and robbed people of all they had, all for the Spider. But that was different. It’s impersonal, and half of those people more or less deserved it anyway. Probably. Regardless, you escaping and making a run for it isn’t something he can brush under the rug, even if you totally failed.

A hot-head like Phinks, or even Uvo, would’ve broken your leg. Perhaps a bit excessive, you hadn’t made it far enough to warrant that in Nobunaga’s eyes. It’s like a part of you subconsciously didn’t want to go so far away. Like you wanted to be found. If you really hated him so much that you’d try to run away, surely you would’ve put some more effort into it.

He could always just break your ankle, maybe both. Crude, brutish, almost, but that would get the point across. It wouldn’t be hard by any means. A flick of the wrist and it’d be done. Maybe he could wake you up before he does it, make you squirm a little. Perhaps you’d feel a fraction of the panic Nobunaga felt when he couldn’t find you anywhere; when he realized you’d ran away from him.

The aftermath might be a little messy, but at least you wouldn’t be running away again. He could keep you like that for a few days, maybe you’d learn some appreciation then. It’d take Machi a while to get to his house anyway to fix you up properly. Maybe he wouldn’t even need her. You’d cry a lot, he’s sure.

“What are you doing?”

Your voice, tired and having lost it’s previous bite, draws Nobunaga out of his thoughts. You’re still laying flat in bed, looking at him with your foot in his lap. You tense up, and he doesn’t miss the brief change in expression. You’re uncomfortable, and the man chalks it up to you being ticklish or something along those likes. Not that you ever claimed to be, but you always shyed away from his touch, always bit the inside of your cheek when he got close. Tensed up when his fingers brushed up against your neck or shoulders. It was cute.

Nobunaga doesn’t answer you right away, his thumb idly rubbing the skin of your ankle. It’s almost a soothing gesture. “Nothing, go back to sleep.” You retract your foot, and he lets you. He circles the bed, coming to the other side and getting in with you. You tense up, feeling Nobunaga slide in right next to you. You don’t move away, not that you had a chance to. Nobunaga presses himself against you, his arms wrapping around you.

You wince, being overwhelmed with his scent. In your brief time away from him, you’d enjoyed the smell of dirt and grass, and the wind hitting your skin. All things you never thought about too much, now feeling like luxuries. Your head is pushed into the crook of his neck, and the rest of you is too sore to do much about it. You suppose, if anything, that being in a warm bed is better than crawling into a log and trying to pretend the ants don’t bother you.

“You know I love you, right?” It’s something you’ve heard from him more times than you care to admit. You don’t say anything, only humming in acknowledgment. That isn’t enough, you know by now that he always wants an answer when he says he loves you. It sounds all too sincere, which ironically is the reason you hate hearing it. When he doesn’t hear a response, Nobunaga pinches your upper arm. So, to soften the blow of whatever’s in store for you tomorrow, you tell him what he wants to hear.

“I love you too.”

#_hxhentry #yandere x reader #yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #x reader #yandere nobunaga x reader #nobunaga x reader #yandere fic

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kunareads · 7 days ago

Text

worst behavior

sukuna x reader

sukuna doesn't just like to argue with you. he likes to lose.

masterlist

wc: 5.7k

this is 5.7k words of straight porn. IN MY DEFENSE, i think about being mean to him everyday.

content: friend!sukuna, smut!!! kissing, dom-ish reader (not the whole time)? oral (f! and m! receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v sex, choking, some overstimulation, gagging (she stuffs her panties in his mouth call it what you want), reader wants to strangle him lowkey

18+ please i block children <3

the cabin hums with warmth, the scent of firewood and something sweet drifting through the air. outside, snow blankets the trees, and cold wind howls against the windows. inside, easy laughter and the comfortable chaos of a weekend ski trip. the kind of night that makes you glad you came along.

sukuna arrives late, kicking the door open with a gust of icy air. He drops his bag like he owns the place. he tracks snow inside, ignoring complaints, slings an arm over the couch, and gives you this stupid look like he's waiting for you to say something. so you do.

you tell him to shut the fuck up before he even has the chance to speak, and his grin only widens, eyes glinting with something sharper than amusement.

it doesn't stop there. over the weekend, he lingers in your space, testing your patience with a practiced ease. he blocks your view of the tv until you kick him. he interrupts you mid-sentence just to get a reaction. he bumps into you, unnecessary and on purpose, his hand catching your waist for a second too long before he steps back with a grin like he's daring you to push him harder.

you do. you bite back every time with sharp words, sharper looks. and each time, his smirk turns lazy, satisfied.

it's not just teasing. it's calculated. the way he watches your mouth when you argue. the way his voice drops when he gets close like he knows exactly what he's doing.

you don't plan to give him the satisfaction.

+++

the cabin is quieter now. most of the group has dispersed to their rooms or sprawled out in the living room. the only sounds are the faint creak of floorboards under your socks and the low hum of the refrigerator as you rummage for snacks.

you're barely two bites into a cookie when you hear a familiar chuckle.

"midnight cravings?"

you glance up as sukuna strolls into the kitchen, moving with his typical cockiness. he's ditched his hoodie, leaving his tattoos exposed under a plain black t-shirt that fits a little too well.

"something like that," you say, narrowing your eyes as he steps closer. "shouldn't you be asleep?"

"couldn't sleep," he replies casually as he reaches past you, unnecessarily, into the cabinet. his arm brushes against yours, just enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin. your breath catches before you can stop it. sukuna notices.

"do you mind?" you ask, crossing your arms.

"not at all," he says, watching you, amused as he leans against the counter across from you. he doesn't take his eyes off you as he opens the cookie package, inspecting the contents.

"you're insufferable," you mutter, shaking your head.

he chuckles at your expression, and then, just to be an ass, he reaches out, plucks the cookie from your hand, and takes a bite.

you stare at him, speechless. then irritation bubbles up, hot and sharp. "you—"

"—shouldn't eat so much sugar this late?" he finishes smoothly, chewing like he's enjoying himself. "i know. just looking out for you."

"you're a nightmare."

his gaze flickers to your mouth. "you like it."

you feel the air shift.

it's not the first time he's looked at you like this, but it feels different tonight. charged. his grin sharpens each time you snap at him, like he's feeding off it.

"you've messing with me all weekend," you say, sharply. "why?"

"i like the way you look at me when you're pissed," he shrugs. "nothing else like it."

your stomach flips.

"what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"exactly what it sounds like," he says, his voice low.

the casual way he says it makes your pulse quicken. you hate how your body reacts to him. hate that you're noticing the way his voice dips lower, the way the air between you feels warmer.

"you're so full of yourself, sukuna," you mutter, shaking your head.

"i've been called worse."

you should end this here. roll your eyes and walk away. instead, you stay rooted in place, staring him down.

and sukuna, predictably, steps closer.

he's obviously baiting you. but there's something real under his teasing now, something undeniable in the way his gaze drops to your lips.

your instinct is to push him back, to say something biting. but you don't. you tilt your chin up, refusing to back down.

his fingers curl at your hips.

"tell me to stop," he says, his voice softer now.

you don't.

his smirk sharpens just slightly. "that's what i thought."

then he kisses you.

it's slow at first, like he's savoring the moment. his mouth moves against yours, teasing, testing. until you pull him closer, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him against you.

and his composure breaks.

sukuna growls against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he deepens the kiss, his body pressing into yours, pinning you against the counter. he bites your bottom lip, then soothes the sting with his tongue, a low groan escaping his throat when you slide your fingers into his hair.

you're both too lost in it to notice the footsteps approaching.

choso's voice cuts through the haze, flat and unimpressed. "please don't fuck in the kitchen."

you break apart instantly, your heart slamming against your ribs. sukuna, to his credit, barely looks fazed. his chest rises and falls heavily, his lips red and swollen, but he meets choso's stare without flinching.

"then get the fuck out," he says, voice rough.

when choso exits, grabbing the bag of chips he came for, there's silence.

then, sukuna turns back to you, grinning.

"my room. five minutes," you tell him.

his eyes flicker with something dark, his grin sharpening at the edges. "five minutes?"

you tilt your head, unbothered. "if you're not there, i'm taking care of myself."

for the first time this weekend, sukuna hesitates. he exhales deeply, looks at you for a second longer, and then he grins, slow and wolfish.

"five minutes."

+++

you shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment. the heat in your body hasn't cooled, not even close. if anything, it's harder to ignore now.

you don't rush. you glance around the room instead, fixing little things. you smooth the blanket, push your bag further under the bed, move a hoodie that's not even in the way.

you glance at the clock. two minutes left. a smile tugs at your lips. can he even last that long?

then the door creaks open. sukuna steps inside, shutting it behind him with an almost lazy push. early.

you sit on the edge of the bed and let the silence stretch a bit. "you're early."

he leans against the door, smirk lazy but his stance tense, coiled. waiting. "got impatient," he says, voice low. already making excuses.

your lips twitch. figures.

you tilt your head, watching him. he doesn't move closer. just stands there, gaze lingering on your face like he's waiting for something.

"well?" you murmur. "you made it. what now?"

his smirk lingers, but there's something darker there. "i was hoping you'd tell me."

"shouldn't you already know?" you muse. "considering how long you've been thinking about this."

his eyes flick to your mouth before settling back on your eyes. "maybe." a pause. "but i like the way you handle things."

you hum, letting your nails drag lightly down his chest. his breath stills. "then lock the door."

he doesn't hesitate. the click echoes in the silence before he crosses over to stand in front of you.

"bossy looks good on you," he murmurs.

your lips curl. "i'll keep that in mind."

you trace your fingers up his torso, watching the way his muscles twitch beneath your touch.

"what do you want, sukuna?" you ask, voice soft but firm.

his grin sharpens, his breathing unsteady. "depends on what you're offering."

a challenge.

your pulse thrums at the thought. he's giving you an opening, one you would've made for your self had he not offered.

you rise from the bed, tilting your chin up to hold his gaze. he observes you, the edges of his lips still curled as usual, but there's something else there now. his breath has slowed, his body tense, waiting.

"how bad do you want it?" you ask, fingers tracing a slow line along his jaw.

he squirms a bit beneath your touch. "bad," he answers, his voice already rough.

your lips twitch. of course, he does.

"then do what i say," you murmur, letting your fingers trail down his neck, pressing lightly a the base of his throat. you feel his exhale stutter.

his expression doesn't waver, but you feel the way his body reacts. his shoulders are tight, chest rising slow and deep, pulse pounding against your fingers as he moves to hold your hips.

"hands off," you say, your voice quiet but firm. "if you can't keep them to yourself, we're done."

there's a flicker of something in his eyes, maybe defiance or pride. restraint. but after a moment, he drops his hands to his sides.

"now," you say, your voice calculated. "get on the bed."

the flicker of hesitation is gone just as fast as it came. he obeys, sinking onto the edge of the bed, leaning back on his elbows, his legs spread just enough to make something hot coil in your stomach.

"take off your shirt."

"yes, ma'am," he says, smile widening.

you roll your eyes. "don't push it."

he pulls the fabric over his head and tosses it aside. his tattoos stand out stark against his skin, broad shoulders tapering into lean muscle.

you step forward, dragging a finger down the center of his chest, feeling the sharp inhale he takes at your touch.

"you look good like this," you murmur, watching his muscles twitch beneath your fingers.

his throat bobs when you trace over his ribs, his jaw going tight. "i'd look better with you on top of me."

"not yet," you hum.

his smirk falters just slightly, impatience creeping in. his hands flex against the sheets. he wants to touch you.

good.

you hook a finger under his chin, forcing him to meet your eyes. "you like following orders, sukuna?"

he inhales sharply, but he doesn't look away.

"…yeah," he admits. then, after a beat, softer, "from you."

your stomach tightens. you knew, but hearing it out loud sends heat curling through you.

"then be good," you say, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. "and follow directions."

for once, he doesn't act smart. he just nods, slow and a little dazed.

you drop to your knees, settling between his legs. a sharp inhale rattles his chest. he doesn't move, doesn't reach for you. his hands stay at his sides, fingers twitching against the sheets.

"tell me if you want me to stop," you murmur, dragging your nails lightly up his thighs, just barely touching him.

he swallows hard. "i'll let you know."

you press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his abdomen, just above the waistband of his sweatpants. his stomach tenses beneath your lips.

"fuck," he mutters under his breath, his hands gripping the sheets.

you smirk. he's trying so hard to keep still for you.

"you're really fucking hard," you muse, pressing a soft kiss over the fabric of his pants.

his hips twitch slightly as he inhales, trying to be patient. "you're a fucking tease."

"i know."

you palm him through the fabric, slow and deliberate. he tenses, a low groan slipping free.

"what do you want?" you ask, deceptively sweet.

"i want your fucking mouth," he grits out, his hips pressing against your hand despite himself.

you snap the waistband of his pants, smiling. "ask nicely."

he huffs. he's stubborn. for a moment, his pride nearly wins. but when you slide your hand up his length, teasing, his resolve crumbles.

"please."

"please, what?"

a beat. his breath is shaky now. "please, put your fucking mouth on me."

"good boy."

his whole body tenses at that, his dick twitching, but you don't give him a second to dwell.

"take them off," you order.

he lifts his hips to shove his sweatpants down. his boxers go with them and his dick springs free, flushed and leaking. desperate.

you meet his gaze as you press a kiss to his base, dragging your tongue along his shaft. his abs tense, a soft sigh slipping free.

"fuck," he mutters, wrecked already.

"sensitive," you hum.

his hips jerk when you take him in. his response is immediate—a sharp inhale, a low, desperate groan. his hips twitch, but he forces himself still.

"fuck, just like that," he rasps, his voice strained.

you set the pace, hollowing your cheeks, working him slow, letting him feel every flick of your tongue, every shift of pressure. his breathing turns ragged, his body tight with restraint.

you pull off slightly, a thin string of spit connecting your lips to him. his jaw locks, his hands grasping at the sheets tighter.

still watching him, you let your spit drip onto his length, slow and messy.

his whole body clenches, his dick flexing against his stomach. "fuck." his voice almost shakes.

you use your hand to spread it, twisting your wrist as you stroke him. he's flushed, completely at your mercy now.

"look at you," you coo, watching the way he reacts. "all worked up, and i've barely done anything."

he groans at that, his hips rolling involuntarily.

"you're gonna be good for me, right?" you tease, continuing your movements.

"yeah." it's barely a whisper.

you take him back into your mouth, swallowing him deeper. he shudders, letting out a moan. "so fucking good," he groans.

then his hand tangles in your hair, instinctive and desperate. you pull away instantly, releasing him with a soft pop.

he whines. an honest, sharp, needy whine. his hips jerk involuntarily. "fuck, what—"

"what did i tell you?" you ask, arching a brow.

his jaw clenches. "shit."

"if you can't follow directions, we're done," you say, your voice firm.

"please don't," he groans, dick twitching against his stomach, desperate.

"then behave."

you lean in, licking a slow stripe up his length before sucking him deep. his whole body shudders.

"fuck," he gasps, voice breaking.

you work him harder now, your pace quick and steady, your hand stroking his base as you take him deeper. his moans are distraught, raw.

"shit, i'm close," he warns, his voice wrecked. you only hum, the vibrations making him shudder.

"fuck, please, fuck—"

his body locks up, and then he's gone. his dick pulses as he spills onto your tongue. a deep, broken moan rips from his chest, his fingers twisting into the sheets as he shudders through it.

you swallow every drop, sucking him through the aftershocks. he twitches, his breathing uneven, thighs shaking beneath your hands. "fuck," he mutters.

you pull back slowly, dragging your tongue over his tip one last time before sitting up. you tilt your head, watching him recover. "you look good like this."

his lips twitch. "yeah?"

you hum, trailing a finger along his cheek, tilting his chin so he meets your gaze.

you know he's still recovering, but that doesn't mean you're done with him.

+++

sukuna sinks back against the mattress, arms lax at his sides, his chest still rising and falling unevenly. his eyes are heavy-lidded, his lips slightly parted, but his smirk is back.

you tilt your head, observing him.

"tapping out already?" you muse, letting your fingers trace his ribs.

his muscles twitch under your touch, but his grin sharpens. even now, ruined and spent, he has the nerve to look cocky.

"not a fucking chance."

he shifts, watching as you stand, as you move toward the dresser and hook your thumbs under the waistband of your shorts, sliding them down slowly.

by the time you're fully bare, sukuna is staring.

"fuck," he whispers, the word slipping out before he can catch it.

you let him have the moment. let him drink you in, let him feel the anticipation build until it's suffocating him.

then you tilt your head at him. "get on your knees, sukuna."

for a split second, something like hesitation flickers in his expression. then it's gone.

he slides off the bed, moving to where you are and sinking to his knees before you. his breath is warm against your skin, you watch his his hands flex.

"can i touch you?" he asks, his voice rough.

you tilt his chin up slightly. "ask nicely."

his jaw tightens in frustration, his pride clearly hanging by a thread. he licks his lips, blows out a breath, and gives in. "please."

you hum in consideration before threading your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him inhale sharply. "you can touch me."

his hands snap up instantly, holding your thighs, fingers pressing into them like he's been starving for it. his lips part, his breath warm and hot, and he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of your knee.

it's so different from how he usually is, calculated and cocky. he takes his time, committing it to memory, dragging his mouth higher, higher, each kiss heavier than the last.

you exhale softly as his hands slide up, parting your legs, his movements careful. he's waiting for you to pull him closer.

"don't tease me," you murmur, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

he smirks against your skin, teeth grazing your inner thigh. "go ahead. stop me."

you grab his hair, tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your eyes. "watch your fucking mouth, sukuna."

he falters, just slightly, but there's something fierce in his gaze now. "let me keep going."

you nod, anticipation coiling inside you.

his fingers part you, a quiet sigh escaping as his eyes land on your core. he licks a broad stripe along your slit, and a shudder rolls through you.

his tongue moves slowly at first, savoring, like he's learning you. his groan is low, vibrating through you.

his restraint is obvious in the way his grip on you lingers rather than bruises, in the way his exhale stutters against your skin. he's holding back.

you tug lightly at his hair, testing. he whimpers. "don't hold out on me," you murmur, breathless.

he exhales sharply, his fingers flexing as he finally gives in. he moves with purpose, licking through your slick before his lips close around your clit, sucking, pulling a gasp from your throat.

sukuna groans, guttural, and it hits you. he's starving for this.

heat floods through you. he wants you so bad. his fingers moving up to your hips, his desperation obvious in the way he works you, messy and unhinged.

you tip your head back, breath ragged, hands threading through his hair.

"fuck, you're so good," you murmur. you feel him moan. a deep, broken sound muffled by the way he's devouring you.

he growls against you, his hands flexing, and then—

you're moving.

he sets you onto the dresser with an ease that makes your stomach flip.

your back hits the mirror, the cool glass biting into your skin, a shocking contrast to the heat of his mouth. you blink down at him, dazed.

he grins against your skin.

"what the fuck do you think you're doing?" you snap, but there's no bite to it.

his lips brush your inner thigh, his breath hot against you. "shh," he murmurs, licking higher. "let me have some fun."

you should shove him off. push him back. say something mean.

instead, you spread your legs wider.

he sighs, drunk on the sight of you.

his mouth is back on you quickly, lapping through your slick, his grip bruising now, holding you open.

"fuck," you gasp, writhing under him at the way he works you.

he groans like he's getting off on this, and then you feel his fingers press against your entrance.

"you taste so fucking good," he mutters, voice muffled as a thrill rushes through you

"sukuna—"

he pushes in, slow and deep, and your composure shatters.

his fingers curl immediately, perfectly, pressing into the spot that makes you jerk against his mouth.

he chuckles against you, dark and satisfied. "that's it," he mutters. "take it."

his pace is measured, his fingers stretching you open, pushing deeper, fucking you slow and devastating.

his mouth never stops. his tongue flicks against your clit, matching the rhythm of his fingers, and pleasure coils tight in your stomach.

"fuck, you're squeezing me," he mutters, his voice thick with awe.

you grind against his face, basically riding his fingers now, and he lets you.

"so needy," he teases.

"shut up and keep going," you pant, your whole body trembling.

his pace quickens. his fingers stroke, curl, push, driving you higher. you sit up straighter, your breath catching, your nails digging into his scalp.

his eyes flick up to yours, burning. hungry.

"don't look away," he rasps. it sounds like a plea. "tell me how good it feels."

"sukuna—"

"tell me," he growls, the sound vibrating against your core.

"so fucking good," you moan, pleasure mounting. "it feels so fucking good."

your orgasm hits fast, pleasure splintering through you, your body arching, tightening, breaking apart.

sukuna moans, licking you through it, his fingers fucking you through every second.

"fuck—" your thighs tremble, your hands clutching at his hair, trying to pull away.

it's too much. too much.

but he just tightens his grip, locking you in place, still working, pushing you deeper.

"sukuna," you plead.

he knows. he can feel the way you tremble, can hear your sharp inhale, can feel the way your thighs try to clamp around his head.

but he doesn't let up.

"you can take it."

"fuck." your legs shake. "wait—"

he sucks your clit into his mouth again, harder, his fingers pushing deeper, curling just right.

the heat coils too fast, too intense. you whine, your nails scrape the mirror behind you.

"sukuna, i—"

he groans, dragging his tongue through your slick, addicted.

"c'mon, sweetheart. let go."

your whole body tenses. teetering. and then the tension snaps.

you gush. your hips jerk violently, pleasure ripping through you as you soak his face, his hands, the dresser beneath you.

"oh, fuck—"

sukuna growls, holding you open, watching, taking in every second. he looks drunk, reverent. his fingers keep stroking, slower now, dragging out every aftershock.

"fuck, baby, you're still going."

your head tips back helplessly, your thighs twitching. he licks you through it, relishing every drop.

"look at you," he hums, his voice thick. "full of surprises."

he presses a soft kiss to your thigh, sucking a mark there, claiming you before he leans back, staring at you like he's never seen anything as beautiful.

you watch as he pulls back fully, that hungry look still on his face. his hands tense at his sides like he's fighting the urge to pull you back on him.

"get up," you murmur, your voice light.

he meets your eyes. you see the flicker of hesitation, but he obeys, pushing himself up. his gaze is heavy as you move slowly off the dresser and toward the bed, as you grab your panties from where they were previously discarded.

"come lie down."

you watch him settle with his back against the headboard, his dick hard and leaking against his stomach.

"i want you to be quiet, sukuna."

his eyes flicker with something darker. hungrier.

you ball up your panties. "open your mouth."

his lips part before he can even think about it. you press the soaked fabric between them, stuffing it into his mouth.

"like i said," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "don't make a sound."

he's looking at you like you hung the stars, his dick twitching underneath you.

you hold his shoulders to lift yourself up, and when you sink down onto him slowly, his whole body trembles.

he moves immediately, almost desperately, his hands gripping your waist, sliding up your back, pressing you against him. his face buries into your chest, his breath hot against your skin.

you cradle his head between your arms, running your fingers through his hair, allowing it. allowing him.

you roll your hips, testing, feeling the way his jaw clenches like he's physically biting down a sound. his whole body jerks, his forehead moving to press against your shoulder as he breathes through his nose, sharp and uneven.

"you can hold on, can't you?"

he nods, but it's shaky.

you smirk, dragging your nails down his back, feeling his muscles ripple beneath your hands. you start a rhythm, grinding against him slowly.

his nails dig into your back. you can feel it. he's breaking. he's clinging to you, his hold desperate, his body taut with restraint. he needs to hold it together for you.

"mm," you hum, rolling your hips. "you're doing so good for me. such a good boy, sukuna."

his whole body tenses at the praise. his grip tightens. and then you pick up the pace, riding him faster, harder, feeling him tremble beneath you.

his arms lock around you, his body shaking with the effort to keep quiet as you bounce in his lap. he's struggling.

"don't break," you murmur against his temple, your nails dragging along his scalp. "i know you can take it."

his breath stutters, his hands clenching on you. but he's so quiet. until he isn't.

a deep, muffled groan breaks through the fabric in his mouth.

you immediately stop moving. his whole body goes tense.

his fingers dig into your skin, panicked like he already knows what's coming.

you grip his jaw, forcing his head back against the headboard, making him look at you. his eyes snap open. he looks distressed. undone.

you drag your thumb across his bottom lip, watching the way his eyes close as his face follows the movement.

"you just couldn't help yourself, could you?"

he looks up at you, something dangerous flashing across his features.

you roll your hips again, just slightly, to punish him.

his chest rises fast beneath you. you watch his jaw tighten, his throat bobbing. then, with a slow, deliberate tilt of his head, he spits the fabric onto the mattress.

before you can even speak, his tongue flicks out, swiping over your thumb, sucking it into his mouth. he wants to give you a second to process, to feel the shift. but he can't. his patience is gone.

his grip on you tightens fast. in one sharp motion, you're flipped on your stomach, hips lifted into the air.

his hand settles firmly on the back of your neck, holding you there.

"stay down," he murmurs. "so fuckin' pretty like this."

he drags his knuckles down your back, along your thigh, but he doesn't touch you where you need him.

a shiver runs through you, frustration and arousal curling in your stomach, but you don't fight him, don't say anything.

"been teasing me all night," he mutters, his voice low, sharp, cutting through you. "think it's cute to test me?"

you try to lift your head to answer him, but his hand presses firmer against your neck, pushing you back down into the mattress.

you suck in a breath, your pulse thrumming, anticipation curling tight inside you.

his grip locks onto your hips. one pull and he's all the way inside you. your cry is instant at the stretch, the way he fills you all at once. "fuck," he says, his voice dark. "there she is."

he holds you tight, his breath uneven. for a moment, he just stays there, buried inside you, feeling you flex around him.

then he pulls back, almost all the way out, before slamming into you again.

your fingers claw at the sheets, a sharp gasp ripping through your throat.

his chuckle is dark, satisfied. "that's what the fuck i thought."

he sets a brutal pace, deep thrusts knocking the air from your lungs. his hand tightens at the back of your neck, keeping you pressed into the mattress, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

he's holding you there like he's afraid to let go. his voice is rough against your skin. "fuck, baby—"

you whimper as he slams into you again. your whole body arches at the feeling, heat licking at the base of your spine.

his hand slides down, fingers wrapping around your throat, pulling you up against him. his lips press against the shell of your ear, his breath hot, chest heaving against your back.

"feel so good like this," he murmurs, almost in awe of you. "taking me so well, sweetheart."

you moan and shudder, reaching back and digging your nails into his bicep, your head tilting back against his shoulder.

his other arm tightens around your waist like he can't bear to have any space between you.

"you're so fucking sexy," he exhales, his voice thick with something real. "been thinking about you all fucking weekend."

his next thrust is deep, punishing.

you cry out and his hand moves instantly. not to restrain you, but to cradle your throat and jaw, tilting your chin back so he can kiss you.

it's hungry, desperate. his teeth catch at your lip, his tongue sweeping into our mouth, his groan low as he drinks you in.

"tell me you want this," he murmurs, voice thick.

you clench around him, your breath breaking. your brain doesn't process exactly what he said, just that he wants you to speak. so you do.

"you're so fucking deep inside me, 'kuna," you gasp, your voice raw. "want you to fill me up, please keep fucking me, don't stop—"

he groans loudly, his hand on your throat tightening, his restraint cracking completely.

"fucking hell," he mutters, like he's about to lose himself, like you've just broken him.

"please," you gasp, your voice breaking, "want it, give it to me, make me cum on your dick—"

sukuna snaps.

"my god—"

his pace turns merciless, his hand moving from your waist to press on your lower stomach, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, chasing the high that's so close you can taste it.

your eyes squeeze shut, a cry slipping from your lips.

"so fucking good, sweetheart," he mutters, his voice feverish. "you're taking me so well, so perfect—"

his hand slides lower, rubbing tight, perfect circles around your clit.

his pace stays punishing, long, sharp thrusts that make your whole body tense.

"fuck," you gasp, your voice breaking.

he feels it the second it happens.

your whole body tenses, your walls clenching down on him so hard it nearly makes him stutter.

"fucking cum all over my dick, baby," he mutters, his voice thick. "god, look at you."

he doesn't stop. your legs tremble violently, pleasure slamming into you in sharp, rolling waves.

he fucks you through it, not slowing, dragging it out until it's unbearable.

"sh-shit, sukuna—"

your thighs snap shut around his hand, trying to push him away, too sensitive.

"fuck, you're still cumming, huh?" he murmurs, his voice ruined.

you can't stop trembling, gasping, the aftershocks still rippling through you.

he groans loudly, burying himself deep.

"fuck—fuck, take it," he groans, his own orgasm barreling into him.

his breath catches, and his body tenses hard as he spills inside you, his sigh rough and satisfying against your ear.

the air between you is thick with heat as you both come down, your breaths ragged and uneven, bodies drenched in sweat. sukuna stays inside you for a long moment, his weight solid and grounding, his forehead pressed against the curve of your shoulder.

neither of you speak at first.

your heartbeat is still erratic, your body still trembling slightly, every muscle loose.

his hands soften, wrapping around your torso as he holds you to him, feeling your short, uneven breaths. he exhales, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. soft. reverent.

"breathe, baby," he murmurs, voice quiet now. "i got you."

you close your eyes for a second, exhaling and letting yourself melt into him. a long moment passes.

then, slowly, he pulls out, the loss making you hiss. you barely have time to process his absence before he lays you down and the bed shifts. your eyes flicker open as he disappears to the bathroom.

you just hum softly, too exhausted to move, stretching your legs out and feeling the faint ache between your thighs.

you feel a little dazed, like your brain hasn't quite caught up yet.

the mattress shifts again, and a cool, damp towel presses between your thighs.

"jesus—" you flinch slightly at the sudden temperature change, but sukuna just huffs a quiet laugh.

"hold still," he mutters, his touch careful. you blink at him, surprised.

"didn't take you for the aftercare type," you tease, your voice softer than usual.

his lips twitch, his brows furrowing slightly, but he doesn't fire back immediately.

"yeah, well," he mutters after a pause, tossing the towel aside and settling beside you. "for you, i am."

you study him for a beat. the tension is gone from his body now, the sharp edges of him softer in the low light. his fingers graze your cheek, his eyes lingering on the redness at your neck.

"you okay?" he asks, quieter.

he watches you for a second, smiling softly when you nod.

you feel warm and content, the weight of exhaustion starting to pull you under. your eyes slip shut just as he shifts closer, his arm draping lazily over your waist.

+++

you wake up to warmth, to soreness, to sukuna's arm heavy around your waist. for a moment, you just lie there, the weight of last night settling over you all at once.

you sit up abruptly when reality kicks in, ignoring the ache in your legs. sukuna grunts in protest, burying his face into the pillow.

"relax," he mutters, his voice thick with sleep. "no one cares."

but once you're both dressed and stepping into the kitchen, you know he's full of shit.

conversations pause.

gojo is the first to look up, grinning like a menace. "oh, look who's finally gracing us with their presence."

you groan.

utahime hums over her coffee, "sleep well?"

"we heard everything," yuki deadpans.

choso barely looks up. "cover each other's mouths or something next time."

your face burns. behind you, sukuna strolls in like he owns the place, reaching for the coffee pot like nothing happened.

"you guys are acting like you're surprised."

"oh, we knew," gojo says. "just didn't think it'd take this long."

your glare could kill. "don't start."

gojo just grins, all teeth. "whatever you say, sweetheart."

and then, to your horror, he winks.

236 notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years ago

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hey pookie bear❤️❤️ i was wondering if u could do james x reader but enemies to lovers/one bed troupe, i can’t find enemies to lovers with james very often and my mind is craving it. thank you ily❤️❤️

hey!! ily tysm for requesting!!! —you and co-worker!james share a hotel room for the night. fem!reader, 1.5k

James Potter is the most insufferable, arrogant, suffocating boy you've ever met in your entire life, so when you hear you'll be sharing a room with him tonight, you shut down. Total icy silence. If he wants conversation, he can ring one of his irritating mates.

It feels borderline illegal to have your workplace make you share a room considering, but you're adults, and the trip was supposedly all inclusive. Not even the most luxurious per diem could make this worth it, though.

James lays in the middle of the bed, arms behind his head, skin awash by lamplight and hair a dark halo against the crisp white linens. He grins at you and you despise how handsome he is. Handsome, and such a fucking prick of a man.

"Won't you join me?" he teases.

You've kept your vow to ignore him until that point. "Please don't lie on my side of the bed."

He moves over, looking startlingly apologetic. You'd believe he was repentant, but he asks, "What's the point? You'll be in my arms sooner or later."

You nibble the inside of your lip. He agitates you, he irks you, but you know James is a good guy. His irritating mates are the same. When you joined the office, he made sure they all remembered to celebrate your birthday though it'd only been a few weeks. When you fell up the icy steps on the way in one morning, James didn't take the piss. He helped you up into the doorway and frowned at your bloody knees and ripped tights like they physically pained him.

"Do you want to shower first?" you ask.

"I shower in the mornings. Thank you. But I can strip down now if you'd like."

"James, please," you say, rubbing your eyes. You'd usually have something much more biting to say, but you're tired. At the last second, you summon the energy. "No one wants to see that."

He glares at you like he's remembered he doesn't like you.

"Cruel."

He leans over the edge of the bed and pulls a book out of his suitcase where it lays in arm's reach.

"I didn't know you could read," you add.

"Points off for awfulness. Put your jammies on, shortcake, I wanna see what you packed."

He's being a creep to annoy you. It's working. You grab your pyjamas and a change of underwear and leave his presence to the small bathroom for a quick shower. You take your time to dry off. It's too big a wish to have him be sleeping when you emerge, and sure enough, he's wide awake but changed into his own pyjamas, plaid bottoms and a white t-shirt.

"Now I know you're obsessed with me," he says, raising his eyebrows over the pages of his book.

You cross your arms self consciously over your near identical pyjamas, the bathroom door closing behind you.

James waits for you to put your dirty clothes in your suitcase before piping up again. "You look adorable."

"Fuck off, please."

He snorts and kicks the sheets down the length of the bed. Stretching with a groan that makes your stomach hurt, he puts his novel tented down on the nightstand. His glasses are next. He looks different without them but no less handsome. If anything, the eagle shape of his nose is more pronounced without them, as is the little pink scar on his cheek, stark against his brown skin.

"You're an awful roommate," he says decisively, "you use all the hot water, you leave the windows open, as now you're ogling me. I feel rather objectified."

You avert your eyes guiltily. "You might want to take your temperature. You likely have a fever, considering how delusional you're acting."

"Ooh, burn."

Face hot with spite, you push back the sheets on your side of the bed and turn off your lamp. After a second, James turns off his.

"You're not brushing your teeth?" you ask. Your voice lacks a specific bite, fatigue kicking in.

"Did while you were in the bathroom."

"What'd you do with the toothpaste spit?"

"Swallowed it."

You laugh. It sounds much too friendly, and you hate it. "You're disgusting," you mutter.

You slide down flat on your back and pull the sheets over your legs and stomach, more than aware of his nearness and the heat of his body already waiting for you under the thin quilt. He smells nice, this close. Like deodorant, mint, but something else that snags your attention.

You hate him so much sometimes —he steals your pens constantly from your desk, he never offers you a cup of coffee even when he's making them for everyone else, and he's lazy. He doesn't do his third of the finances on time. He nudges his desk into yours to make your small figurines fall over and calls it 'earthquake training'. They're fucking plastic. James Potter drives you up the goddamn wall, and being close to someone like this couldn't be more awkward. You're stiff as a board.

"I was only kidding earlier," James says. He's quiet, but so is the room. He might as well yell. "I wouldn't lay a finger on you if you didn't want me to."

"You gave me a snakebite three days ago."

"I thought you had a bug on you," he says furiously, having had this argument already. "That's not the point. If you want me to sleep on the floor, I'll do that. I have no intention of making you uncomfortable."

"You've already failed, then."

He sighs. "I can go sleep on the floor in Sirius and Remus' room."

"They wouldn't have you in the bed?" you joke lightly. They have a close friendship. It's nice, even though you might pretend they're a throuple whenever single girls visit the office to ruin his chances.

"Oh, they probably would."

"It's fine. Don't… don't bother. It's not a big deal for me if it isn't for you. I know you wouldn't try anything."

"Yeah?"

"Of course. You're a bitch, but I don't believe you're that kind."

James laughs loudly, his chuckles shaking the mattress. You swear you can feel his eyes on your face, though the room is bathed in darkness and the strings of scarce red light blinking from the alarm clock.

"Good. I'm not that kind of bitch," he agrees.

"Well. Goodnight."

"Yeah, goodnight, shortcake."

You roll your eyes at his nickname. Whether your short or tall isn't his concern, James calls you shortcake because he's very tall, and he holds that against you often like a schoolyard tease, papers held out of reach, your figurines hidden in alcoves or on top of cabinets.

You turn onto your favoured side and try not to care that you're facing him. James falls asleep first, his breath slowing until a snore emerges, his weight dipping the cheap mattress. Combined with your own, you start to slide toward one another.

Fucks sake, you think, edging back.

Space reestablished between you, you close your eyes and try not to think about what he looks like when he sleeps. As you nod off, you feel the soft skin of a hand curling around your forearm. A quarter circle rubbed into your pulse.

—

James wakes first, and he is Oh so thankful. He isn't a pervert, he swears, he has no idea why he's curled around you like this. Hugging your arm to his chest like a teddy, his face curved downward, his nose pressed to your forehead, he wakes and he panics hard.

You aren't touching him back. Sunlight filters in through shitty translucent blinds and kisses your unassuming face, your lashes lightened, your lips pointed down in sleep. He worries something's upsetting you while you doze. He bites his tongue.

It's none of his business. None of his business why you're having a restless morning.

James twists and lets your arm fall naturally back onto the sheets, squinting in the sun at the alarm clock. It's barely five AM. You needn't wake for another two hours but you will, if you keep frowning.

James holds his breath. Carefully, he settles back onto his side facing you and cups your face. It feels too intimate, too much. He pulls his hand away after half of a second, opting to take your hand again instead.

He's seen you cry before. Bloody hands and knees, humiliated and cold, you'd sniffled on the steps leading into the office and asked him not to tell anyone. Remus and Sirius know everything there is to know about James. His genuine but waning dislike for you, his budding crush. And yet, after pretty much a lifetime telling them every secret he'd ever come into contact with, James didn't tell them about that. He gave you the packet of tissues from his pocket, and he told you a lie about falling in the exact same place a year before you started working with them.

The expression you gave him then is the same you wear now as he rubs the palm of your hand with his index fingers. You're comforted. Your unseen unhappiness abates.

James falls asleep like that, drawing shapes into your hand.

—

i love him i want him to be my office frenemy. ty for reading!! pls reblog if u enjoyed it means so much to me!

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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Hey Mei 🫶

Here’s my idea - BAU!wife who yells at Hotch when he yells at their team members because she’s a protective momma bear. And hotch secretly loves it because his wife yelling gets him all hot and bothered.

Love you 🫶 and your writing thank you 🧡

Perhaps it's an unwise idea to pick a fight with your surly husband, especially because he doubles as your surly boss. But Spencer hadn't even been that late, and you know he only walked in late because he takes public transportation, and he couldn't control that the bus was late. And, Aaron's only in such a sour mood because Jack had given him typical teenage attitude before school this morning. So really, Spencer didn't deserve the near-shouted lecture he'd gotten.

You march over to the young doctor's desk, happy that his aversion to touch applies to people he's not familiar with. He leans into your stomach when you pull his head to rest on it, albeit stiffly, and you call after your husband with narrowed, fierce eyes.

"Aaron, come back here right now and apologize." You demand, and the already icy mood in the office shifts a few degrees colder. Aaron stops on the stairs and by the tightness of his shoulders he's composing himself, then he turns on his heel and raises a thick brow at you.

"What?"

"He didn't deserve that," You scold him, keeping Spencer's head cradled to your stomach as you stroke down his back, "He's a baby."

Aaron rolls his eyes, "He is not a baby, Y/N. He's a grown man with a government job, and I expect him to show up to it on time."

"He does! He's early every single other day," You remind him, "But the bus came late today! How was he supposed to get here? Uber? You know he doesn't know how to download new apps! Let alone link his bank account to pay the guy. He was seven minutes late, for fuck's sake, just leave him alone!"

Aaron looks like he wants to snap. You've gnashed your teeth at him, and he's lived the life of a fighting dog thus far, so you know you're treading in dangerous waters. But after a rather intense stare down in which you feel Spencer's face heating up through the fabric of your shirt, your husband swallows his pride and mutters, "I expect you in my office within five minutes, Y/N."

Spencer mumbles some feeble protest on your behalf but you pat his back to shush him, letting go so that he can straighten up again.

"Don't worry," You send him a warm smile, "I can handle him. Call me if you ever need a ride again, okay? We can come pick you up."

"Okay." He nods, but it's most likely only to deter you from pampering him with any more motherly affection, as he looks like he's going to wilt from it, "Thanks, Y/N."

"Anytime," You squeeze his shoulder, passing your concerned teammates unbothered smiles as you make your way to Aaron's office.

He's only recently sat down when you arrive, but you notice that he's conveniently sitting so that the desk blocks your view of his lower half. You stand at attention in front of his desk, playing coy like you don't know what's coming next.

"Do you enjoy questioning my authority in front of my team?" He asks you, voice carefully even and tight.

"I enjoy doing anything that makes your dick twitch, Aaron." You announce, your tone deceptively casual for the filth you're spewing, "Did you haul me in here to fuck me over the desk? The blinds are still open, don't you think that's a little distasteful?"

Your attitude only makes him more uncomfortably aroused, and he regrets getting his suits tailored so precisely, as his pants have little give. He leans forwards across his desk, dark eyes boring into yours.

"No. I hauled you in here to tell you that I'm going to fuck you over the desk. But not yet. You're asking for it now, so I'm not giving it to you. Maybe if you'd been a little more polite, I'd have given you what you wanted. But now you're going to wait, because you decided to bicker with me over the rules of this office. Rules that I set, because I am in charge of keeping this team on track."

The harsh tone of his voice makes your stomach twist, and you're feeling your heartbeat in two places. You stand there, saliva slowly accumulating on your tongue, until he raises a brow at you, unimpressed.

"Don't do that again. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." You lay on the formality hot and heavy, practically purring it and watching as he shifts slightly in his seat, "I'll be waiting, whenever you decide you can't take it anymore."

"Careful." He snaps, eyes ablaze at your implication that he'll be the one to break, "Don't dig yourself any deeper. Dismissed."

You turn to leave with a satisfied smirk on your face, and perhaps you exaggerate bending over to pick up a stray paperclip that you notice on the floor by his door.

"Here," You pad back across the room to hand it to him, not missing the way that he's tense all over, "See you in twenty, Hotchner."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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bel1ewrites · 10 months ago

Text

Booth Five (Sam Carpenter x Reader)

A/n: Here's another one, love you guys.

WC: Idfk

Warnings: smut, top!Sam, bossyish!reader, slightly public sex, thigh riding, more thigh riding, Sam in fancy work clothes

NUMEROUS visits to her favorite place after a long, hard day of work had forced Sam's ears to grow accustomed to the deafening thunder of sensual music that pumped through the hazy club.

Ever since the very first week of her new life in the city, Sam had made sure to become somewhat of a regular at The Vanity. She made sure to commit each and every worker to memory, even went out of her way to tip a little extra every visit. It was just who she was. She loved to pay attention, and she loved to be aware.

She did not, however, love to be confused.

From her spot on a cracked leather couch, she sits with a drink in her hand, the top few buttons of her shirt undone, and she watches you move. The colored lights run over your body like waves on a shore, black lace the only thing stopping you from being fully exposed. It's euphoric, the way you move. It's familiar and free, icy hot. Sam takes a pull of her drink.

------

"You've got a private booking, honey," your boss calls as you fuss with your hair in the vanity mirror. She's a firecracker of a woman, short and curvy. The voice of a smoker mixed with the tone of a caretaker. "Booth five."

It hadn't taken you long to understand the inner workings of your place of employment. Annoyingly, nothing was ever straightforward, and booth five was not an exception to this rule.

You'd learned that an hour with one of the dancers in booth five had to cost more than your rent; which, albeit, didn't say much. It was the coldest spot in the whole club, nothing but dark red walls and a single black couch, and you couldn't really tell if it was the air vents or the dark aura that made you shiver when you passed it.

This is the first time anyone has requested for you to be in there.

"Um," your voice is steady as you turn around, smoothing a hand over non existent fabric out of nervous habit, "Is it cool if Amber takes this one?"

A beat passes.

"The patron requested for it to be you." If she notices the way your heart drops, she doesn't mention it. Only smiles crookedly and nods, effectively dismissing you from the comfort of being alone.

The beat of your heart doubles that of the music as you walk out of the room, a little unsure and a little irratic. Your heels feel too tall, your chest too tight.

Dancing was different. Dancing didn't bring forth any unwanted social interaction. Sure, there was the occasional creep, but they never really bothered you much when you could tune them out with thoughts of being beneath your covers with hot Chinese food and your cat curled up on your lap.

This was intimate. This was private and there was really no practical way of getting out of it.

You're sure you're going to pass out when you reach the outside of the booth, nothing but a thin curtain separating you from the unknown man waiting inside. Is he married? Is he demanding? Does he expect anything more than a lap dance from you?

A job is a job, you remind yourself, breathing deeply once, twice before stepping inside.

The air is charged. Static pulses around you. So its a woman. There's a woman a few feet in front of you.

She sits there, back against the couch and legs spread like she owns the place, shirt slightly unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. She's tall and dark and has the look of someone who's grown accustomed to getting what she wants one way or another. Her eyes drop down your figure, lingering at certain parts unabashedly. They run over every inch of you slowly, methodically. She wets her lips.

"Hello." She speaks. Her voice is fire and ice. It's raspy and smooth, dark and calculated and so insanely perfect that it makes your ears ring a little.

It's your turn to say something, anything, really. You really do try to greet her, even open your mouth for a second before promptly shutting it again.

"It's reasonable to expect a greeting after one says hello, is it not?" Her brow raises. It seems that all it takes for you to gain your composure is a little confrontation.

You close the still open door and take a step forward, trapping a palpable tension in the room along with the sound of muffled music.

"Sorry about that, I just wasn't expecting... this." Amusement flashes in her eyes. "You weren't expecting a woman?" She questions, patting the space beside her and signaling for you to sit.

There's room for her to scoot over and create a comfortable amount of space between your bodies, but that doesn't seem like something she wants.

Your body moves without your mind's consent, "no, I wasnt," you answer, taking your seat.

She hums, the scent of her cologne wafting over you like a drug. "Disappointed?" she asks, bottom lip puffed out in a teasing pout.

The couch is cold beneath you, but that doesn't stop the fire from rushing to your cheeks. Nervously, you run a hand through your hair and smile, trying not to let her undeniable smoothness get in the way of yours.

"Oh, hardly," you let out a raspy huff of laughter and you can't help the way your eyes flit to her mouth.

A smirk tugs at her lips, pout dropping entirely. "Well aren't you fiery."

"Why did you ask for me?" you pry, gaze hooded.

"Why wouldn't I?" She questions, tone serious and eyes on yours. The air feels thick around you.

She truly is a beautiful woman, silky black hair and dark eyes surrounded by thick lashes. The muscles in her arms pull at the fabric surrounding them. You suddenly feel underdressed.

"Amber normally takes this booth," you offer truthfully.

Amber was a favorite amongst the club. She was all dark smiles and sinful moves. You appreciated her for her wit and ability to seem completely calm at all times; a skill you wish you had.

Her hand drops to the bare flesh of your upper thigh. "I didn't ask for Amber, did I?"

Sam had interacted with the girl numerous times. She'd been working here since that first night and was undoubtedly beautiful, but she didn't feel drawn to Amber like she did you. Her body didn't light up when she saw her like it did with you. You were different.

"What's your name?" you pry.

The heat of her gaze along with that of her palm on your thigh sends jolts down your spine. You can see the muscles in her jaw move as she grits her teeth, swallowing hard.

"Sam."

"Why did you ask for me?" you ask again, eyes on her dark and blown pupils. Your own gaze is hooded, lashes low as you look up at her.

She smiles wolfishly, teeth flashing. "Can't a girl want to get to know someone?"

"Well," you look down at her mouth, "I guess when you put it that way."

The air around you seemed to grow thick, tension lacing through it. Her aura was intoxicating, the way it consumed you so quickly, made you want to give her everything.

She hums, tightening her grip on your thigh, "For such a pretty girl you sure do ask a lot of questions," the words fall from her lips, tone low and dripping with want.

"Yeah?" You smile.

"Yes." She shoots back.

"Really?"

She ignores you, looking at you so intensely you almost think you did something wrong.

"Can I kiss you?"

You nod, maybe a little too eagerly but you can't help it. When she kisses you it's softer than you expect it to be, like she's testing the waters. Her hand runs up your thighs, teases its way to your hip and squeezes the flesh there. It makes your head spin and your heart race, heat settling in your lower stomach.

Teeth graze your bottom lip as she pulls back a little. "Come here," The woman breathes into your mouth. She guides you onto her lap, smiling and leaning further into the couch. You have to arch forward to kiss her again, something that isn't an accident on her part.

Hands grip at your waist, your hips, your ass. She's deepening the kiss like it's pushing life into her and she can't get enough. it's a needy, panting scene as her lips and tongue slide over yours.

She kisses you like you've never been kissed, skill and need intertwining into a moment that makes you dizzy. She's all soft lips and rough teeth, nipping and sucking and soothing.

The musky scent of her cologne messes with your head and you can't stop your hips from moving, seeking pressure to tame the heat inside of you.

She trails her lips down to your neck, hand pulling at your hair to tilt your head back. "That's it, baby," Sam coos, teeth scraping under your jaw, "use my leg." She shifts the two of you before you can do anything, moving you to straddle her thigh. Her lips latch onto a sensitive spot on your neck as she pushes her leg up and into you.

"Fuck," you gasp out, gripping her shoulders and arching further into her. The position gives her mouth easy access to your chest.

The fabric of your lace bra is easy for her to move to the side, baring your hardened nipple to her.

"You're so pretty," She groans beneath you, pressing her tongue to the sensitive bud.

Pleasure shoots through you and you suppress a moan at the feeling of her skilled mouth against you. She's pulling at your hips, guiding their movements as you rock into her. It's hard to remember where you are, how any of your coworkers can walk in if they want to. All you can think about is how muscular her leg is through her pants as it presses into your clit in just the right way, how strong her hands are as they grasp at your body like it's her lifeline.

It's almost embarrassing, how worked up this stranger has you. She's touching you like she knows your body, and you can feel your wetness soaking through your fabric. Truth be told, you'd been wet since she first spoke, voice smokey and addicting.

She sucks your tit into her mouth, tongue lashing at your nipple and you have to push her away before you get loud. She protests as you send her back to leaning against the couch, but ultimately keeps quiet when you bury your head in her neck to muffle your moans.

"That's it, just like that pretty girl," She whispers in your ear while you grind against her, leg rubbing your clit just right each time. "You sound so pretty."

Needy whines and sighs escape your throat, lips pressed to her neck while she pushes her thigh harder into you. She hums at the feeling, sound deep and rasped.

You would be disappointed in yourself for being so close this fast, and over the clothes no less, but you can't feel anything other than the pressure in your lower stomach building and building.

"It's so good," you admit breathily into her neck, nails digging into her upper back through the button up. You can feel the firm muscles there, and you can't help but picture them rippling as she fucks you.

"What's so good?" she asks like she already knows the answer.

Her voice sends you spiraling further, the almost taunting tone laced in her words. "The way you touch me."

She laughs lowly, "Oh? You close?" Her head turns as she presses a kiss to your cheek, you pull your head out of her neck and look her in the eyes.

"Use your hand," you order, grabbing her right wrist and dragging it towards where you want it.

The look that washes over her almost pushes you over the edge, the way she listens to your command and presses her fingertips to your clit.

The texture of the fabric rubbing against you feels overwhelmingly good, tension building in your body. You watch her with your eyes half open and your lips parted, watch as she drinks you in with her eyes.

Everything about her is skilled, the way she moves her hand in hard circles and pushes into you. Her free hand wraps around your neck gently and pushes you back a bit so that she can see more of you, your free nipple and the blush spreading across your chest. The action combined with the slight pressure on your neck makes your eyes roll back, a curse falling from your lips.

"Faster. Fuck, Sam," you tilt your head back and move with her hand, "I'm so close."

She listens so good, movements speeding up just how you asked. It feels so good, the warmth spreading throughout your body and coiling in your stomach. You're panting needily, orgasm rushing towards you, its presence overbearing.

"So bossy," She teases.

A slew of words grace your lips, body falling forward to mask the volume of your moans in the crook of her neck. She moves with precision, never once slowing down or faltering.

"Come on, baby," She urges, "cum on my hand."

It only takes a few more movements before you're doing just that, body tensing up and shuddering above her. The orgasm hits you like a bullet train and drags itself out, lasting longer than any other you'd ever had.

The feeling of her arm around your back, fingers still moving on your clit to guide you through makes it last longer. Her voice is in your head, grounding you as she whispers.

Her hand is gone from your clit and her neck is sweaty from the combined body heat by the time you pull back, shaking slightly. The reality of the situation doesn't hit you, just lingers in the back of your mind as you look at her.

"Hi," you say, hair sticking to your forehead slightly.

"Hi," She smiles sweetly back. "Sorry about the hickeys, I got a little carried away."

Your nipple hurts a little from the intensity with which she sucked at it, and you know your neck is riddled with marks.

"It's okay," you smile back, "but you'll have to be the one to let my boss know where they came from."

Her smile turns sheepish, though you can tell she doesn't regret leaving them. "Only if I can see you again," her arms tighten around your waist, lips brushing yours.

"Deal."

#sam carpenter #wlw #lesbian #melissa barrera #samantha carpenter x reader #scream #screamxi #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader

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