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happy74827 · 7 months ago

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Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 7 months ago

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Tag Team (Deadpool/Wolverine)

Description: Wade is distracted during a mission so afterwards all 3 of them fuck in the Honda.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 1,773k

Request:

IM OBSESSED WITH WADE AND LOGAN AS A TEAM... May I request a smut where both of them fuck fem!Reader?

Idk reader could also be a hero and it happens during a mission, I trust your writing!!!

Wade had been distracted the entire mission. It was to the point that Logan was getting annoyed with him even more than usual. Y/N had no clue what they were fighting about but was also annoyed with both of them. “Can you guys shut the fuck up?” She growled at them. They both stopped arguing and looked at her, “Can you stop being so hot?” Wade asked. She rolled her eyes and put her finger to her mouth to shush him. “Yes mommy.” Logan looked at him with disgust.

Wade was a kinky son of a bitch but Logan never got used to it. They were trying to kill bad guys but Wade was about to ruin it. Y/N had been so into the mission she had failed to see both of them checking her out. She did have blood all over her but what was new? Wade and Logan both had it bad for the girl but Y/N was oblivious. Before Wade could say anything else the bad guys appeared and they had to kill.

Y/N shot at them, never missing. Logan clawed them up and managed to get more blood on them than before. Wade? Well he was still distracted and barely did anything, “WHAT THE FUCK, WADE?” Y/N yelled at him. She pulled him right out of his dirty thoughts. “Y/N and I just did all the work.” Logan added. “Well my bad that I can’t stop thinking about taking you both to a whole new world of pleasure.” Y/N stared at him with a blank look.

She was really tired of him acting like this, especially on a mission. “Well next time don’t come.” She said and walked away from him. Logan followed but not before growling at him. “Oh come on! You guys act like this isn’t hot as fuck.” He whined, catching up to them. “What’s hot about killing people, Wade?” “EVERYTHING!!” Y/N sighed and stopped walking. “Wade, I’m very flattered but now is not the time.” She said to him. “Wait so there’s a time?” He asked. She sighed and started walking again.

The Honda Odyssey was the only “bed” that they had which sucked ass but it had to work. They all reeked of blood and guts but Wade couldn’t stop thinking about fucking Y/N in it. “So about earlier, is now the time?” He asked. Logan rolled his eyes and Y/N sighed. She sat up in the backseat and stared at him.

He was still wearing his mask and Logan took his off. “Wade, don’t you wanna fuck in a bed?” She asked, looking around the car. “Honey, I would fuck you in a volcano.” Yeah cuz that was a turn on. She looked at Logan, “What about you?” She asked him. He opened his eyes to look at her, “I wouldn’t fuck you in a volcano but this is all we have.” She laughed at his words and put her weapons on the floor.

“Alright guys. Let’s have some fun.” Wade was out of the car and to the backseat before she could finish her sentence. Logan got on the other side of her and she looked between them, “I’m not sure how this will wo-” Both of them attached their mouths to her neck. She gasped at the sudden action of them and she never noticed that Wade lifted his mask. Their lips moved sloppily on her neck, leaving marks. She gripped both of their necks and pulled them closer. They both placed a hand on her upper thigh and she leaned back against the seat, taking them with her.

Her eyes were closed as they marked her neck until she had purple spots. Logan moved down to her cleavage and Wade’s hand brushed against her pussy. She gasped at the feeling of both of them. Logan kissed and sucked the top of boob while Wade managed to get his fingers in her body suit to her bare pussy, “Holy shit.” She breathed out and he chuckled. “Ya like that princess?” Wade asked as his fingers rubbed her clit.

She was soaked and had been for a few hours now. Logan moved from her tit to the floor and spread her legs. “Move your fingers you Merc.” Logan said to Wade. Wade whined but did anyway so Logan could feast on her pussy. “Take this off.” He demanded her. She undid her body suit and Logan helped her get it off until she was fully naked in nothing but gloves and her boots. Logan chuckled as he looked at her wet pussy.

He sniffed her and sighed, “Fuck darling you smell delicious.” He told her and licked up her clit. She threw her head back and moaned. Wade watched as Logan ate her out and got even harder. He looked at Y/N who had her eyes closed and her breathing was harder. He leaned back too and turned her head towards him and kissed her. She weakly kissed back and moaned into his mouth. Logan was eating her out like an animal eating its first meal.

It was everything. Her hands gripped his hair making him moan into her pussy. The vibration made her whine and Wade stuck his tongue in her mouth. She let his tongue explore her mouth and Logan’s explored her pussy. Her hips bucked into his mouth and she shuddered at how close she was, “I’m gonna cum!” She whined into the kiss. “Cum on his beautiful face.” Wade told her and that did it. She fucked her hips up into his face and came all over. Wade praised her as she rode her sweet orgasm.

Logan flattened his tongue as she did all the work until the pleasure was gone. He pulled away from her pussy and smirked at her. She loved the sight of him covered in her cum. Wade did as well, “Damn wish that was me.” Logan got back onto the seat next to her and kissed her, giving her a taste. She moaned into his mouth. “Fuck that’s so hot.” Wade said. Y/N pulled away from the kiss and moved to kiss Wade giving him a taste as well. While they were kissing she took his mask off and threw it on the ground. Wade was never insecure around them.

They made him feel loved. She broke the kiss and moved in between his legs. He looked down in shock as she pulled out his dick. “Kiss.” She told them and without protest they did. She smirked as she watched for a second before running her pretty fingers over Wade’s cock. He gasped into the kiss. She wrapped her hand around him and jerked him off a few times before taking him into her mouth. Her mouth was the best thing to fuck.

It was wet and warm and felt so good. She placed her hands on his thighs and gave him the best blow job of his life. Wade was the loudest one out of the three of them. He fucked up into her mouth as the car rocked. The windows steamed up as they kissed and she gave him the best blow job ever. “Fuck. Your mouth is amazing, baby.” He moaned.

Logan watched as his dick went in and out of her mouth. Sure her mouth was good but her pussy was even better. Logan and Wade stopped kissing once Wade got really close. He threw his head back and cried out as he came in her throat. She pulled off of him and pulled Logan down for a kiss. She let Wade’s cum travel into Logan’s mouth and he swallowed. Wade gasped as he had never seen anything like that before.

Y/N smirked at him and got back in between them. “So I want all or nothing. You both have to be inside of me at the same time.” She says and they both nod before getting naked. She got on the center console of the car and they both managed to get their dicks in her at the same time. Their car was small but it managed to work. Y/N gasped at both of them penetrating her at the same time. Logan tried to let her adjust to the size but Wade didn’t care and started thrusting.

Her moans were loud inside the car and it felt very hot. Her jaw was dropped and her bloody hair was wet with sweat as well. Wade laid his head on the head of the carseat and groaned out. Logan who had more stanamia than both of them was fucking her fast and hard. Wade tried to keep up but it felt better this way.

“Shit you both are so fucking good.” She whined as one dick would hit her spot and then the other would right after. “You’re one to talk princess, your pussy is so perfect.” Wade groaned. Her moans turned to screams as she started thrusting back on them. The perfect rhythm began and all 3 of them were making loud noises. The heat of the car made things more intense.

Logan’s hand that was gripping one side of her hip was squeezing to the point of bruises. Y/N wished more than anything that she could see how fucked out they both looked but that was the con with doggy style. Especially in a small car. Wade groaned as he felt her pussy squeeze them, “Fuck princess, I’m about to cum.” He announced.

Y/N smirked before moaning as she squeezed them tighter cuz a loud moan to release from Logan. He barely moaned but when he did it was amazing and hot. “Fuck sweetheart, If you do that again I’m gonna cum too.” “That’s the plan.” She whimpered and squeezed them. “Where do ya want it, pretty girl?” “Inside of me. Both of you.” She cried as she too felt closer to the edge.

Wade groaned loudly as he came hard inside of her pretty pussy. Logan was a few seconds later and stilled behind her as he came. Y/N helped them ride it out as she came next screaming their names. The car smelled of sweat and sex as they both pulled out of her. Wade collapsed back against the seat and sighed, “Man I do love a good tag team after a crazy mission.” He said. Logan glared at him, “You didn’t even help.” Y/N turned around to look at the two. “Boys don’t start.” She warned and got in the middle of them. “Maybe if you guys are good we can go for round 2.” She smirked and brought them both in for a kiss.

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bueckets · 1 month ago

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Thin Walls

Pairing: roommate!Paige x reader

Genre: roommates to lovers, kinda funny?, smut, unbearable sexual tension, petty revenge, paper-thin walls, psychological warfare via moaning, paige bueckers menace era, girl failure x girl who never fails, competitive pining, mutual obsession, doomed from the start but in a fun way, vibrators n SEX, almost all ssmut

Description: When a sleep-deprived biomed student moves in with UConn’s most notorious heartbreaker, you expect late-night film study, protein shake graveyards, and an apartment perpetually scented like sweat and victory. What you don’t expect? Thin walls. And Paige Bueckers making absolutely no effort to keep her extracurricular activities quiet.

What starts as a battle for basic human decency turns into something far messier—petty revenge plots, mind games laced with innuendo, and an unspoken tension that neither of you is willing to name. Paige plays like she owns the court, like she owns the world, and maybe—just maybe—like she wants to own you, too.

They say pressure makes diamonds, but when it comes to Paige Bueckers, it just might make a disaster.

WC: 8.4k

There’s a certain satisfaction in watching rich people fight over throw pillows. Like, deep, existential satisfaction. The kind that settles into your bones, whispering at least you’re not that delusional while you scrape the bottom of your bank account for rent. That’s why Selling Sunset has become your new comfort show—nothing soothes the sting of your own financial ruin quite like watching a billionaire lose their shit over an ocean view.

The couch has practically absorbed your body at this point, molded to the exact slouch of your spine. The TV’s glow flickers against the walls, the only illumination in the apartment aside from the soft neon blur of the city outside. A bowl of Greek yogurt sits abandoned on the coffee table—your latest attempt at a “responsible” late-night snack, made in partnership with self-loathing. You’re too exhausted to move, too wired to sleep. Somewhere outside, a siren wails, stretching long and lonely through the night, and you think, for just a second, that if you squint hard enough, you can almost pretend your life is fine.

Then the door slams open like a fucking battering ram.

A mess of limbs and pure, unfiltered desperation stumbles in. Paige Bueckers and tonight’s lucky contestant.

They’re already kissing—no, consuming each other. Lips fused. Hands gripping. Hips aligning like they’re moments away from shifting the tectonic plates beneath them. It’s all sloppy giggles and breathy moans, the kind of shit that should come with a parental advisory warning.

Paige is in sweats and a hoodie that’s hanging halfway off her shoulder, her blonde hair a tousled wreck that suggests she either just left practice or got aggressively felt up in the Uber ride over. The girl—a brunette this time—has her fingers twisted into the hem of Paige’s hoodie like she might actually rip it in half. You’re 98% sure they don’t even notice they almost wipe out over the entryway rug.

You stare. They don’t. They’re too busy dry-humping against the door like horny teenagers who just discovered the concept of friction.

This is usually the part of the night where you’d be asleep. That’s the unspoken agreement. Paige does whatever (or whoever) she wants, and you exist in separate, peaceful universes where her sex life is not your problem. But tonight, insomnia had you in a chokehold, so instead of peacefully slipping into unconsciousness, you’re here, trapped in the splash zone of her latest conquest like some unwilling war correspondent reporting live from the trenches.

Paige finally clocks your presence. Her head jerks up mid-kiss, blinking at you through the haze of what you can only assume is either lust or a full-on brain shutdown.

“Oh. My bad.”

Her voice is husky, wrecked, but casual—so casual, like you just bumped into each other in line at Trader Joe’s, not like you just caught her halfway to third base in the shared living space. The brunette barely acknowledges you, too busy chasing Paige’s mouth again, fingers already curled into the waistband of her sweats like they’re pre-gaming for something much worse.

Your jaw clenches. It’s not jealousy. It’s not even annoyance, really. It’s just…the audacity of it all. You didn’t survive financial ruin, an eviction, and the world’s most soul-sucking job just to end up as an unwilling extra in Paige’s late-night softcore escapades.

Paige smirks, something smug and completely unbothered dancing in her blue eyes, and then��because apparently, she has to make sure you fully marinate in your suffering—she winks.

She fucking winks.

Then she grabs her conquest by the wrist and drags her toward her bedroom. The door swings shut with a decisive click.

You exhale sharply. Shift on the couch. Turn back to Selling Sunset.

A blonde woman in Louboutins slams a designer purse onto a marble counter, screaming about escrow like her life depends on it.

You grab your spoon, chew a bite of yogurt, and pretend this isn’t the worst night of your life.

At first, it’s nothing you can’t ignore—a muffled giggle, the faint creak of a mattress. You’ve had years of training in the fine art of selective hearing. Cheap apartments with walls thinner than a CVS receipt, noisy neighbors who lived for 3 AM karaoke, exes who had no concept of volume control—life has forged you into a soldier of endurance. A survivor. You could sleep through sirens. You could pretend not to hear the couple next door having a screaming match about a misplaced vape pen. You could—if the situation demanded it—completely erase the existence of an entire soundscape from your brain.

But then the giggling shifts. Turns breathy. Then it turns into something else entirely.

A rustle of sheets. A gasp. A low, pleased hum that shouldn’t make your stomach twist with secondhand mortification, but does.

Your grip tightens around the remote. The TV screen flickers in front of you, but you’re no longer absorbing the content. Christine Quinn is monologuing about open-concept kitchens—something about “flow” and “maximizing natural light”—but her voice isn’t nearly loud enough to drown out the escalating symphony from down the hall.

You turn the volume up. Way up.

It doesn’t help.

Paige’s conquest lets out a high, breathy whimper, the kind of sound that makes your entire body lock up like your nervous system just crashed. Paige’s voice follows, low and affectionate, murmuring something you absolutely do not want to hear, but your cursed, traitorous ears pick up anyway. Whatever she says makes the brunette giggle—another peal of laughter before it melts into something softer, more desperate.

Your eye twitches. Nope.

You launch off the couch like you’ve been personally attacked, storming down the hallway with all the righteous fury of someone who has had enough. The second you reach your room, you slam the door shut behind you. The walls rattle. The moaning does not stop.

Jesus. Are your walls are made of tissue paper? No, fuck that—tissue paper at least offer some resistance. This? This is sonic purgatory. Paige’s voice is clearer now, her tone teasing, low, smug. A pet name you can’t quite make out but absolutely wish you could bleach from your brain.

You groan. Loudly. Throw yourself onto your bed and yank a pillow over your head like that’s going to do anything.

It doesn’t.

Because the sounds are intermittent—waves of giggles followed by the kind of sighs that make your ears burn. The occasional shhh from Paige, followed by a breathless “like that?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Think of something else. Think of literally anything else. You focus on the fabric of your pillowcase, the way the cotton sticks to your cheek, the faint scent of detergent—Paige moans, and your brain short-circuits like a 2003 Dell desktop.

You don’t even have the energy to be properly mad. This is just Paige. Unbothered, self-contained, casually ruining your will to live Paige. She doesn’t try to be inconsiderate, but she also doesn’t try not to be.

Another moan—drawn out and shameless—curls through the air, and you nearly levitate out of your skin. You want to scream. Instead, you yank another pillow over your head for good measure, as if two pillows will somehow create a force field against whatever the fuck is happening in there.

Christine Quinn is still monologuing in your mind, her voice a distant echo beneath the carnal horror occurring in real time.

"It’s all about location, location, location."

Yeah. No shit.

You really should’ve picked a better one.

The morning drags itself into existence like a bad hangover—except you didn’t drink. You just endured. Survived. Battled through the night like some war veteran, only your battlefield wasn’t made of trenches and gunfire but moaning and drywall acoustics.

Sunlight filters through the too-thin blinds, stabbing into your retinas like a personal attack. It casts a harsh glow over the wreckage of your living room—your personal post-war scene. The coffee table is an abandoned crime scene: an empty takeout container, a spoon half-submerged in a sad puddle of yogurt, a crumpled napkin that might have been thrown in frustration during hour two of your sleepless torment. Your blanket is twisted in a heap on the couch, kicked off at some point in your desperate attempt to burrow away from the sounds of Paige Bueckers living her best, most inconsiderate life.

It’s quiet now. Blessedly quiet. A void. No hushed giggles, no rhythmic bedframe percussion, no doors slamming. No evidence of last night’s atrocity except for your residual irritation, clinging to the air like stale perfume.

You sit at the dining table, textbook open, pen in hand, attempting to refocus on something productive. Biomed homework. Neural pathways, synaptic transmission—things that matter. Unlike Paige, who—

A shuffle of feet. Soft, socked steps. You don’t even hear her door creak open—just the lazy, leisurely sound of someone who has never known suffering emerging from her room.

You refuse to look up.

“Morning,” Paige says, casual as ever, like she didn’t turn your living space into the set of a low-budget lesbian porno eight hours ago. She stretches, arms overhead, back arching slightly, exhaling like she just had the most restful night’s sleep of her life.

Meanwhile, you—who has never been more tired—physically recoil at the audacity.

She rubs her eyes, yawns, shuffles past you toward the kitchen like nothing happened. Not even a hint of acknowledgment. No sheepish oops, my bad for mentally scarring you with surround sound sex noise. No hey, sorry about your insomnia and emotional distress. Just a morning like everything is fine.

You blink at her. Unbelievable.

Your fingers tighten around your pencil as you force your gaze back to your notes. Ignore her. You are a scholar. A person of intellect. A higher being.

Paige, meanwhile, has fully migrated to the fridge. She rummages carelessly, like she owns this apartment, like she pays your therapy bills. She emerges with the orange juice carton, unscrews the cap, and—like an absolute menace to society—drinks straight from it.

The pencil in your grip creaks ominously.

“You’re up early,” she remarks, between gulps.

“I didn’t sleep,” you reply, flat, clipped. You don’t look at her. You refuse to.

Paige makes a small sound—something vaguely amused, vaguely disbelieving. “Damn. That sucks.”

That’s it? That’s all she has to say.

You inhale, deeply, willing yourself not to commit a violent felony before noon.

Slowly, slowly, you lift your head, turn your glare toward her like a sniper locking onto a target. Paige, in all her infuriating glory, is leaning against the counter, still drinking your orange juice, looking like someone who has never felt guilt a day in her life. Her expression is neutral, open. Not quite smug, but there’s something about the way she exists that makes you want to throw your textbook at her face and plead temporary insanity in court.

She swipes her thumb across her mouth, wiping away a drop of juice.

“You know what else sucks?” you say, voice deceptively calm. “The structural integrity of our walls. They’re paper-thin. Just an interesting fact I thought I’d share.”

Paige’s lips twitch. She knows. She fucking knows. She tilts her head slightly, like she’s considering whether she should poke the bear or let you stew in your suffering. Then she settles on:

“Huh.”

That’s it.

Your grip tightens on the pencil so hard you might actually snap it in half.

Paige drains the last of the orange juice, wipes her mouth again (like an animal), and sets the carton down with a satisfied sigh. Then, as if she hasn’t just mentally and emotionally destroyed you, she stretches again, rolling out her shoulders.

“Welp,” she says, tone light, completely unbothered. “I’m out. See ya.”

“Wait, what—”

But she’s already gone, disappearing back into her room for approximately thirty seconds before emerging again—this time with a duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

You stare at it. “You’re leaving?”

Paige nods like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Yeah. Team stuff. Won’t be back tonight.”

Your brain malfunctions. Won’t be back tonight. This terrorist has held you emotionally hostage for an entire night and now she’s just leaving? Just walking away from the wreckage like some kind of villain in an action movie, casually strolling as the building explodes behind her?

She tugs on her sneakers at the door, slings her bag higher on her shoulder, and—because the universe is cruel—throws you a lazy, almost mocking little salute.

“Don’t wait up,” she tosses over her shoulder. Then she’s gone.

The door swings shut and the apartment is silent again.

You sit there, fingers clenched around your pencil, biomed notes glaring up at you like they’re personally offended by your suffering. Your eye twitches.

I fucking hate her.

Then you sigh, rub your temple, and force yourself back to work.

It’s been three days of silence. Three whole, glorious days of peace. Three nights where you didn’t have to contemplate smothering yourself with a pillow just to escape the torment of Paige’s complete disregard for basic human decency. The apartment has felt almost normal—like an actual home instead of a halfway house for Paige’s revolving door of hookups. You don’t have to brace yourself every time the front door swings open, because it hasn’t swung open. You don’t have to leave your headphones on while studying to shield yourself from the auditory terrorism of her sex life. You don’t have to walk into the kitchen at 1 AM and fear that you’ll be confronted with Paige, half-naked, wearing nothing but someone else’s lipstick and a hoodie that’s falling off her shoulder like she’s starring in a fucking romance movie.

The peace has been so uninterrupted, so unnatural, that you’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to live in a state of constant vigilance. You throw yourself into your biomed assignments, losing yourself in the clean, clinical world of neural pathways and synaptic transmission, your SZA playlist looping softly in the background. You almost start to believe this is real. That this is the new normal. That maybe Paige has finally, miraculously, learned self-control or, at the very least, found a new venue to conduct her business.

You are so fucking naïve.

The front door doesn’t just open—it explodes. A crack, a slam, a full-body collision with the wall that rattles the picture frames. The kind of entrance that belongs to either a SWAT team or a raging hurricane of bad decisions.

Your body locks up like an animal sensing an oncoming natural disaster. The pencil in your grip slips through your fingers, hitting the desk with a dull thunk. Your heart stutters in your chest, and for one brief, delusional second, you tell yourself that it wasn’t real. Maybe it was just the wind. Maybe Paige forgot something and came back only to leave again. Maybe—

A thud. Then another. The unmistakable rhythm of someone kicking off their shoes, the soft scuff of footsteps across the floor.

You grit your teeth, pressing your palms flat against your desk. You are not going to react. You are not going to engage. If she wants to slam doors and stomp around like a feral beast, fine. You refuse to let her drag you into the chaos. You reach for your headphones, adjusting them over your ears, cranking up the volume until SZA drowns out the world.

It’s not enough.

A sound pierces through the music, slicing through the air like a warning shot. It’s high-pitched, sudden, obscene—so sharp that your entire body recoils. Your brain trips over itself, scrambling to make sense of what it just processed, and for a brief, fleeting moment, you think someone is in distress. Like maybe—maybe—this is the night Paige finally made an enemy and brought home someone who wants to kill her. But no. No, that is not the sound of murder. That is the sound of someone who is very much alive and living their best fucking life at maximum volume.

Your grip tightens around your pencil so hard you genuinely worry it might snap in half.

Then it happens again—louder this time.

“Ooooh, Paige, baby it feel sooo good,” a long, drawn-out moan that echoes through the walls like a goddamn announcement.

Your jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear something crack.

You tell yourself to ignore it. You try to focus on the actual problems in your life—like the metabolic equation staring up at you from your notebook, the one that makes no fucking sense, the one you were just about to solve before Paige returned to single-handedly ruin your night. But this girl—whoever she is—sounds like she’s in a full-blown cinematic production, and Paige? Paige has zero concern for your sanity. No attempt to be discreet, no effort to maybe keep it down, no acknowledgment that she is actively breaking your spirit in real time.

A shhh from Paige, soft, teasing, followed by something breathless. While you– you black out for a second.

The chair scrapes against the floor as you shove away from your desk, adrenaline flooding your veins. You are this close to storming down the hallway, ripping Paige’s door off its hinges, and launching her entire bed out the fucking window. Instead, you flatten your hands against your desk, inhale deeply, and stare down at your notes like they personally wronged you.

This. This is it. You swear to yourself, you are getting revenge.

You don’t know how yet. But it’s happening.

Because if Paige wants to act like an inconsiderate, sex-obsessed demon hellbent on making your life miserable, then fine. Fine. Two can play at this game.

You’ve waited two days. Two agonizing, anticipation-filled days where you paced your room like a villain in the third act of a revenge flick, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Every time you passed by Paige’s empty room, you could practically hear the ghosts of her past hookups mocking you. You had suffered. You had endured. And now, it was your time.

The front door swings open. Not as violently as before—no dramatic bang against the wall, no whirlwind of limbs stumbling over the entryway rug. Just the quiet shuffle of footsteps, the soft rustle of fabric, the barely-there whisper of a muffled giggle. It’s all very tame. Too tame. Like she thinks she can just slip back into this apartment unnoticed, like she didn’t shatter your will to live just days ago with her complete lack of shame or respect for human decency.

You sit up in bed, eyes gleaming in the dim glow of your laptop screen. Showtime.

It had taken an embarrassing amount of time to craft the perfect revenge strategy. You wanted something devastating. Something that would haunt Paige the way her late-night moanfest had haunted you. You considered various forms of psychological warfare—hiding her favorite hoodie, signing her up for weird spam emails, strategically microwaving fish at odd hours—but none of it felt impactful enough. You needed something biblical. Something that would scar.

And then, the answer came to you. Porn.

Loud, obnoxious, horrifically detailed porn. You smile at your glowing laptop and click play.

Instantly, the most sinful, ungodly, downright demonic sounds explode from your speakers. It’s graphic. Monstrous. A chorus of moans, screams, the unmistakable, wet, slapping of skin against skin. The kind of audio that makes you question humanity as a species. You’re pretty sure you hear someone begging in French.

It’s perfect. You crank the volume up.

Then, with the sheer dramatic commitment of a Broadway performer, you slam your bed frame against the wall.

The headboard cracks against the drywall with force, rattling like you’re in the throes of an earth-shattering experience. You moan. Not well, but loudly. Passionately. Over-the-top.

“Ohhh my GOD,” you scream, throwing in some unnecessary yes, yes, right there’s for added flair.

You can feel the disturbance in the force. But you don’t stop. Oh, no. You commit.

You keep the moans rolling, layering them with guttural, animalistic gasps. You bang the headboard again, harder this time, just to make sure Paige feels your suffering on a molecular level. You toss in a deep, satisfied sigh, dragging it out like you’re playing a villain savoring their monologue.

You keep the moans rolling, layering them with deep, broken gasps, the kind of sounds that should not be echoing through the walls of a shared living space. Your voice wavers just enough to sound shaken, overwhelmed, ruined, like you’ve ascended past the mortal plane and are now one with the universe.

The headboard collides with the wall again—harder this time, with a resounding crack that might actually fracture the drywall. Good. Good. Let her feel it. Let the vibrations of your suffering seep into her bones. Let her live what you lived.

You throw in a deep, satisfied sigh, dragging it out long, making it obscene. You let silence stretch, just for a moment, just long enough for Paige to think maybe—maybe—it’s over, that this nightmare has passed.

And then, with the full, unwavering conviction of a lunatic, you moan again.

It’s breathless. Shaky. The kind of sound that would make someone deeply uncomfortable in any setting, but especially when coming from the other side of a paper-thin wall.

A shuffle. A creak of bedsprings. A pause. You can feel her trying to process.

And then, like a gift from the heavens, Paige finally breaks.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

The pure, unfiltered disbelief in her voice is a drug. It fuels you.

You slam your palm against the wall, a solid thunk that reverberates through the apartment. Then, in the single most unhinged act of pettiness you have ever committed, you howl a random man’s name.

Silence.

You shift in bed, letting out a shaky, devastated exhale, the kind of breathless, wrecked sound people make when they have been absolutely, thoroughly ruined. You make sure it carries through the wall, make sure it sinks into her skull.

There’s another pause. A long one. You can almost see Paige lying there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how her life has come to this exact moment.

Then—an aggressive rustling of sheets, a sharp inhale like she’s gearing up for a speech. You brace yourself.

Her response is immediate. A heavy thud—her fist against your wall. “Oh my God, have some fucking decency.”

That should be the end of it. A normal, sane person would stop here. But you? You are not a normal, sane person. You are a petty, wounded soldier, and you will see this through to the end.

So you shift, make sure your bedsprings let out a very suggestive creak, and then murmur, low and breathy, “Five more minutes.”

A second of pure, raw silence. Then, from her room—chaos.

The violent shuffle of blankets, a sound like something falling off her nightstand, an aggressively muttered string of words that you cannot hear, but you know they’re unholy.

Victory tastes sweet.

The next morning, you wake up feeling transformed. Cleansed. Vindicated. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes of your own pettiness, reborn into a creature of pure, unadulterated vengeance. A god of retribution.

Last night was a triumph. A masterpiece of psychological warfare, orchestrated with the precision of a military strategist and the artistic flair of a Broadway performer. Paige had suffered—oh, she had suffered—and you had heard every ounce of that suffering in the sheer disbelief laced through her voice. You had sent her into an existential crisis without so much as stepping foot into her room. And the best part? You didn’t even have to talk about it. No awkward confrontation, no passive-aggressive exchange, no forced discussion about boundaries. Just a silent victory, the best kind of victory.

You stretch in bed, limbs loose and relaxed for the first time in days. No residual irritation, no ghosts of rage clinging to your skin. You won. You won.

The air feels different when you step into the kitchen, like the whole apartment is holding its breath. The atmosphere is charged, electric with something unspoken, a tension that exists only because you created it. You bask in it, inhale it like fresh air, let it fill your lungs as you roll your shoulders back and step into the room.

Paige is already there. She’s leaning against the counter, one hand wrapped around her ever-present protein shake, the other holding her phone, scrolling with the kind of casual indifference that feels fake. Too stiff. Too controlled.

She doesn’t look up. Doesn’t acknowledge you in the slightest. Good. That means you got to her.

You let the silence stretch, let her feel you watching her, reveling in the unspoken weight of last night’s events. Then, with all the exaggerated nonchalance you can muster, you open the fridge. You take your time, rummaging through it, making a show of your relaxed state, of your complete and total lack of shame or regret. Every movement is deliberate, every pause pointed.

The tension is thick enough to taste.Finally, after a long, drawn-out beat, you break the silence.

“Sleep well?”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Paige just lifts her shake, takes a slow sip, and keeps scrolling, her gaze glued to her screen like you don’t exist.

You bite back a smirk. Oh, it’s like that, huh?

Fine. You love a challenge.

You grab a yogurt, pop the lid with exaggerated ease, and lean against the counter directly across from her. Mirroring her. Challenging her.

She knows you’re looking. She feels it.

The weight of your gaze drags over her jaw, the bare skin of her collarbone where her hoodie has slouched just a little too low. Over her hands—gripping her phone a fraction too tight, her knuckles taut with something just shy of restraint.

She lifts her protein shake. Takes a sip. Measured, deliberate.

You take a slow, obnoxiously slow, bite of yogurt.

“You seemed a little... tense last night.” Your voice is carefully neutral, the epitome of innocence, like you’re discussing the weather. But your eyes say otherwise.

A flicker. There. The tell.

It’s microscopic—her fingers tightening around her phone, a brief clench of her jaw before she lifts her shake again.

“I’m fine,” Paige says, monotone.

You hum, swirling your spoon through the yogurt, dragging it up in long, slow loops. “Really? You seemed a little... thrown off. Like you weren’t expecting something.”

Paige drinks. Swallows. Sets the bottle down with that same, mechanical precision.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh, this is delicious.

“Hmm.” You take another lazy bite, then—just for effect—let your tongue flick over the spoon, slow, clean.

She doesn’t react.

But she sees it. You know she sees it.

The battle of wills unfolds in the silence. A quiet, blistering, psychological duel.

You stretch it, waiting, baiting. Letting the tension tighten between you like a tripwire waiting to snap.

And then—she exhales.

A sharp, quiet breath, controlled but strained. Like she’s holding something back.

And finally, finally, she sets her phone down.

Lifts her head.

Meets your gaze.

And suddenly, the air shifts.

Because Paige’s expression isn’t annoyed, like you expected. It isn’t irritated, or bored, or vaguely exasperated.

It’s something else.

Something slower. Darker.

Your stomach tightens—not in fear, but in something far more dangerous.

She tilts her head just slightly, a fraction of an inch, but the weight of it is immense. A move so calculated it feels like a blade sliding from its sheath.

"You good?" she asks, her voice a study in casual ease. Too smooth. Too careful.

It’s a trap. You know it’s a trap.

But you don’t back down from fights.

“Better than ever.” You drag the words out, light, effortless. “Best sleep of my life.”

Her lips twitch. Just barely. A half-second away from a smirk.

“That right?”

You shrug, feigning boredom. “Guess loud, passionate sex really tires a person out.”

A beat. A single, suspended moment.

Then—

“I wouldn’t know,” Paige says, smooth as silk. Cool as ice. “Didn’t hear a thing.”

Your smirk falters.

Oh.

Oh, she’s good.

You recover quickly. “Really? You must sleep like the dead, then.”

Paige picks up her phone again, dismissive, her gaze flicking back to the screen like you’re not worth the effort.

But her lips? They’re curling. Slightly. Just enough to show teeth.

“Or maybe,” she murmurs, so damn casual, “it just wasn’t worth noticing.”

Oh, that bitch.

Heat flares up your spine, crackling, sharp.

You glare. Paige doesn’t even glance at you. The war has officially begun. And it’s on sight.

You’re not proud of yourself.

Not in the slightest. In fact, you don’t even know how you got here.

But this is what happens when you let your petty little battles spiral into something else, something darker and messier and impossible to ignore. You hate her. You loathe her. You think about her way too much—about how she gets under your skin, about her smug little smirks, about the way she acts like she owns the air you breathe just because she’s taller than you, because she can throw a ball into a hoop, because the entire fucking world looks at her like she’s something more than just a girl who’s in your goddamn way.

And maybe that’s why you’re here.

On your back. In your bed.

Hand between your thighs like an absolute fucking degenerate.

Because Paige is supposed to be gone. She’s supposed to be three states away at some game, doing her little interviews, getting her ego fed by an arena full of people. The apartment is supposed to be empty.

So you let yourself have this.

Let yourself chase the tension out of your muscles, let yourself melt into it, let yourself lose in it.

And God, you wish you were thinking about someone else.

But it’s her.

It’s her stupid fucking face.

It’s the way she taunts you, the way she stands too close in the kitchen, the way her sweatpants hang low on her hips in the morning, the way she stares you down like she’s daring you to push her, like she’s waiting for the exact moment you snap.

You hate her.

You hate how easy it is to imagine her hands on you instead of your own.

Your fingers are slick. Obscenely so. The vibrator hums against your clit like a live wire, like an electric pulse searing through your nerves, turning every inch of your body into a hypersensitive mess. Your thighs twitch, your stomach clenches, your hips keep jerking up, desperate for more, even though it's too much—too intense, too sharp, too unbearably fucking good.

The sheets are ruined beneath you, damp and twisted from how much you’ve writhed against them, chasing the high, riding the edge, dragging it out like you deserve to suffer for this. Like you deserve to ache for it. Your other hand is gripping the pillow, fisting the fabric, white-knuckled, because Paige, Paige, Paige—you can’t get her out of your fucking head.

That smug smirk, those broad shoulders, the way she leans against the kitchen counter like she owns it, owns you, waiting, watching, pushing, teasing—

God, you hate her.

You hate the way she gets under your skin, the way she’s there, always there, lingering in the space between, looking at you like she’s daring you to do something about it. You hate that you want to.

And you hate that you’re so fucking close just thinking about her.

Your toes curl, your breath breaks into little hiccuping moans, your body bows off the mattress. The vibrator sends another sharp burst of pleasure through your swollen, oversensitive clit, and it’s too much—your thighs slam shut around your hand, trying to temper the sensation, trying to trap it, hold it inside you, but it just makes everything sharper, stronger, unbearable—

You choke on a sound, a raw, desperate little whimper.

And then– a noise. Not yours. Not in your room.

On the other side of the fucking wall.

At first, your brain refuses to process it. Because no. No. No way. Paige is supposed to be gone, three states away, playing her stupid game, being her stupid self, not here.

But then you hear it again. A moan. Low, wrecked, unmistakably needy.

Your whole body locks up.

For a second, all you can do is lie there, frozen in place, vibrator still pressed against your clit, your own pulse hammering in your ears. Your skin goes hot, burning with shame, with realization.

She heard you. She fucking heard you.

Another shift. A creak of her bed. The rustle of sheets.

A sharp inhale escapes you, unbidden, and then you clap a hand over your mouth, mortified.

The vibrator is still humming against your clit, sending little aftershocks through you, but you can’t move, you can’t fucking move, because your brain is stuck on the fact that Paige is touching herself right now, that she’s lying in her bed, one wall away, listening to you, moaning for you, and you—

Oh. Fuck.

Your breath catches, your whole body locks up, your hand stills between your thighs—just for a second, just long enough for your brain to catch up to what the hell just happened.

You press the vibrator harder against your clit, bite your lip so hard it hurts, and keep going.

You’re sick, a fucking degenerate. You have to be, because the thought of Paige, lying there in her bed, one flimsy wall away, fingering herself to the sound of you falling apart is the single hottest, most disgusting, most earth-shattering thing you’ve ever fucking imagined.

Your hips twitch up, chasing the feeling, chasing the high, chasing whatever this is, this tight, searing, unspeakable thing curling in your stomach. You shouldn’t be doing this. You should not be doing this. But your fingers are shaking, your whole body is on fire, and you can’t stop, you can’t fucking stop—

And then she makes another sound.

This time it’s louder, more desperate, like she doesn’t care if you hear her anymore. And it sends you spiraling.

Your eyes slam shut, your thighs squeeze together, your stomach clenches so hard you can’t breathe, and the pleasure—fuck, the pleasure—rips through you, tears you apart, drowns you, ruins you.

You come so hard you forget how to exist.

The air is still humming.Your skin is still hot, still damp, still sensitive in a way that makes every shift against the sheets feel like too much. Your breath hasn’t fully evened out, your body still shaking from the wreckage of it, from the way you lost yourself, let yourself drown.

It should be over. It should.

But then—

A sound. Distant, but there. A soft shuffle, the faintest creak of floorboards beyond your door.

Your breath catches. You stare at the ceiling, heart pounding, trying to ignore it. It’s late. Maybe you’re imagining it, maybe it’s nothing. Maybe you’re still stuck somewhere between dream and aftermath, still feeling the phantom weight of her—her hands, her voice, the way your mind kept slipping back to her even as you tried not to.

But then it happens again. A shift of movement. Closer.

A slow, deliberate pause just outside your door.

Your stomach tightens. No.

But the air is suddenly thick with something too real, something too electric—something that makes your pulse hammer in warning even before the first knock lands.

Knock. You stop breathing.

Another.

You jerk up, your body still too sensitive, your skin prickling under the weight of anticipation. You don’t move at first. Don’t respond. Just listen.

A pause. Silence. Maybe she’ll leave. Maybe she’ll take the hint—

And then, the voice. Low. Steady. Unshaken.

"Open the door."

Your fingers tighten around the blanket, pulse kicking hard. Not a question. Not a request.

Just a command.

You should hesitate. You should stay still, let the moment pass, let it slip into the quiet, pretend it never happened.

But you know what’s waiting on the other side. And you know you’re already too far gone. But now she’s here.

You don’t move at first. Just stare at the door, heart picking up speed, hands pressed against the comfort of your blanket. A breath. Another. You tell yourself to stay still, stay quiet, maybe she’ll go away, maybe she’ll take the hint—

She knocks again.

“Open the door.”

Your skin prickles. Not a question. Not a request. Just a flat, patient command. Still, you hesitate. Seconds pass, stretching out between you like a tightrope, thin and fraying. And then, finally, you move.

The door creaks as you pull it open, slow and careful. Paige stands in the dim hallway, shoulders loose, hoodie hanging from her frame like she just threw it on without thinking. Her hair’s a mess—like she’s been running her hands through it, like she’s been restless all night. Her blue eyes flicker over you, unreadable, scanning, weighing.

Then she steps inside.

She doesn’t ask. Doesn’t wait for permission. Just walks past you, brushing close enough that you feel the heat of her body, the scent of her—something clean and sharp, faint sweat and warm fabric and something entirely, infuriatingly her.

The door clicks shut behind her. You don’t speak.

You don’t have to. She turns to you, slow, deliberate, expression unreadable. Then, voice low and measured:

“Lay on the bed.”

A prickle of heat races down your spine. You swallow, breath catching, fingers curling at your sides. But you don’t argue. Don’t hesitate. Just step back, moving without thought, without question, without sense—because it’s Paige, and because you want to know where this is going, and because something inside you is already unraveling at the edges.

The mattress dips as you crawl onto it, arms bracing, knees pressing into the sheets. You don’t dare look at her. You hear the shift of fabric, the quiet creak of the bed frame as she moves behind you, slow, careful. A pause. A breath.

Then—

“Where’s your vibrator?”

The words hit like a strike to the ribs. Sudden, shocking, stealing the air from your lungs.

Your fingers clutch the blankets, throat dry. You don’t answer.

Paige hums, thoughtful, unimpressed. Then you feel her—one hand at your lower back, pressing just enough to make you sink into the mattress, the other trailing up your spine, fingers grazing the curve of your shoulder.

“You’re gonna tell me,” she murmurs, voice steady, quiet, dangerous in its softness. “Or I’ll find it myself.”

Heat pools low in your stomach, twisting sharp and deep. Your breath stutters. Paige’s hand lingers at the back of your neck, fingers tracing, waiting.

Your voice comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Drawer.”

A pause. The ghost of a smile in her voice.

“Good girl.”

Then she moves.

You hear it—the slide of the drawer, the shift of objects, the quiet click of plastic against wood. A heartbeat. Two. Then the bed shifts again, and she’s behind you, close enough to feel the heat of her, the weight of her presence, the steady, unshaken confidence in every movement.

Her fingers skim your thigh, light, testing, teasing.

“You know what to do.” Your stomach clenches.

Slowly, breathlessly, you shift forward, sinking onto your hands, pressing your chest to the mattress. Your knees spread, thighs parting just enough to leave you open, vulnerable, trembling with something you can’t name.

The air is thick, charged, electric.

Then, Paige’s voice, low and certain:

“Don’t look at me.”

You shudder.

And then—she starts.

The first press of the vibrator against your clit is light—just a tease, barely there, a flicker of sensation that sends a sharp jolt straight through you. Your fingers tighten in the sheets, breath catching, body already wound so fucking tight you think you might shatter from just this.

Paige hums, pleased, lazy. Her other hand skims up your back, slow and deliberate, tracing the dip of your spine, the curve of your ribs, fingers spreading wide as she grips your hip, holding you in place. The bed shifts beneath her weight, but you don’t look back. You don’t dare. Not when you can already feel her eyes on you, watching every little reaction, every twitch, every shaky inhale.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “So fucking wet already.”

You let out a soft, helpless sound, pressing your forehead against the mattress, trying to steady yourself. It doesn’t help. The vibrator hums again, firmer this time, rolling against your clit in slow, torturous circles, and your hips jerk instinctively, seeking more, needing more.

Paige clicks her tongue. “Uh-uh. Stay still.”

The sharp sting of her palm against your ass is unexpected, quick and precise, more startling than painful—but fuck, it makes you tighten everywhere, makes you gasp, makes heat curl even deeper in your gut. Your nails dig into the sheets, thighs trembling.

Then—without warning—the vibrator presses harder, just enough to make your whole body tense, thighs twitching, stomach clenching. Your mouth falls open, a high, breathless moan spilling out before you can stop it.

“That’s it,” Paige murmurs. “Let me hear you.”

She drags the vibrator lower, just for a second, teasing the slick heat between your thighs, and then—fuck—you feel her fingers, tracing, pressing, testing. You whimper, hips bucking, and she chuckles, low and amused, before finally—finally—she sinks one finger inside.

Your breath stutters, back arching, body clenching tight around the intrusion.

“Fuck,” she exhales, voice rough, almost reverent. “You’re gripping me so fucking tight.”

The vibrator keeps buzzing against your clit, steady, relentless, a constant pulse of pleasure as her finger moves, slow and deliberate, curling just right, dragging along that sensitive spot that makes you tremble.

“God, you’re dripping,” Paige mutters, voice edged with something darker, something raw. “You want more?”

You nod frantically, too wrecked to form words, pushing back against her hand, chasing it, needing it.

She gives it to you.

Another finger presses in, stretching you, filling you, fucking into you in slow, deep strokes, pushing past that tight resistance, until she’s buried up to the knuckle. Your whole body shakes, heat coiling low in your stomach, sharp and overwhelming.

“Jesus,” Paige breathes, her voice tight, wrecked. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.”

She picks up the pace—fingers curling, twisting, pressing in deeper as the vibrator rolls against your clit, unrelenting, merciless. You’re gasping now, panting, your hips moving without thought, without control, grinding down, fucking yourself onto her fingers, onto the pulsing buzz of the toy, lost in the slick, obscene sound of it, the heat, the pressure, the unbearable, intoxicating pleasure building too fast, too much—

“Paige—”

She tightens her grip on your hip, holding you still, pressing the vibrator harder against your clit, fingers thrusting deeper, sharper, hitting that spot over and over and over—

And you snap.

It crashes into you all at once—blinding, breathless, a shockwave of raw, shuddering pleasure that rips through your entire body. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, legs shaking, thighs clamping around her hand as the orgasm slams into you, wrecking you, drowning you.

Paige curses, low and filthy, working you through it, keeping the vibrator pressed firm against your clit as your body jerks, as you convulse, as pleasure spills over in wave after brutal wave.

You collapse forward, panting, trembling, barely able to hold yourself up. But Paige isn’t done.

She flips you onto your back in one smooth, effortless motion, her body pressing into yours, caging you in. Before you can even catch your breath, her mouth is on you.

The first kiss is rough, searing, a claim more than a kiss—teeth dragging against your lip, tongue pressing deep, swallowing the wrecked little sounds spilling from your throat.

Her hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, dragging your legs apart, squeezing your waist, your ribs, your tits, mapping every inch of you like she’s memorizing it.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cum,” she murmurs, lips brushing yours, voice thick with hunger. “All fucked out and messy for me.”

Your breath stutters. Paige leans in again, dragging her mouth down your jaw, your neck, sucking a mark just below your ear that makes you shiver.

“I want you loud this time,” she mutters, fingers already slipping back between your thighs, spreading you open, rubbing slow, teasing circles against your overstimulated clit. “You gonna give me that?”

You whimper, nodding frantically, hips bucking up into her hand, desperate for more.

Paige smirks against your skin. “Good.”

The heat of her body presses you into the mattress, her grip firm, unrelenting, claiming every inch of you like she’s owed it, like she’s been waiting for this for so fucking long that holding back isn’t an option anymore.

And it’s not. It never was.

Her fingers curl inside you, deep and sharp, pressing right against that devastating spot that makes your whole body tighten and shudder. You’re soaked, dripping down onto her hand, onto the sheets, your thighs slick, trembling, spread wide as she takes what she wants—what she’s wanted for so fucking long.

“You have no idea,” Paige mutters, voice low, wrecked, breath warm against your neck as she drags her lips over your skin, teeth grazing, biting. “No fucking idea how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.”

Your brain short-circuits. You gasp, clutching at her shoulders, legs wrapping around her waist, dragging her closer, needing her closer.

She groans, grinding against you, fingers moving faster, harder, pushing into you with a rhythm that’s obscene, ruthless, making you arch, making you cry out.

“You think I didn’t notice?” she growls. “The way you looked at me? The way you listened when I fucked other girls in this apartment?”

Your stomach clenches, a sharp pang of shame and arousal slamming through you.

Paige laughs. A low, breathy, utterly wicked sound.

“That’s right,” she purrs, slowing her fingers to a torturous, teasing drag. “I know what you’ve been doing. Lying in here, all hot and frustrated, touching yourself to the thought of me.”

Your breath catches.

“You ever wonder if I was thinking about you?” she continues, voice husky, lips dragging down your collarbone, your chest, your stomach. “Lying in bed, hearing you through the walls, touching myself to the sound of you coming?”

Your hips jerk up, a desperate, broken sound escaping you.

Paige chuckles, dark and amused, before she slams her fingers into you again, relentless, brutal, dragging you right back up that peak.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “That’s what I fucking thought.”

The words send a fresh wave of heat ripping through your body, pleasure slamming into you all at once, sharp and unbearable, too much but not enough, never enough.

Then she’s everywhere—her mouth crushing against yours, teeth nipping, tongue pressing in deep as her fingers fuck into you, relentless, merciless, like she’s making up for every second she didn’t have you like this.

“Come for me,” she demands, voice ragged, forehead pressing against yours, blue eyes dark, wild, locked onto you like she’s daring you to fall apart.

Your whole body seizes up, back arching, mouth falling open on a silent scream as the orgasm tears through you, overwhelming, devastating, making your mind go blank, making your vision fucking blur.

Paige groans as you clench around her fingers, as you drip onto her hand, onto the sheets, onto her.

“Jesus fuck,” she breathes, watching you, drinking in every twitch, every shake, every shattered gasp. “You look so fucking good like this.”

And before you can even catch your breath, before you can even think, she’s flipping you over again, pressing you into the mattress, pinning you down, her body covering yours completely.

Her mouth is everywhere—hot, desperate, claiming every inch of you, kissing you like she wants to consume you, biting at your throat, your jaw, your lips.

“You’re mine now,” she mutters, breath ragged, hand gripping your hip, dragging you up against her. “You fucking get that?”

You nod frantically, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, needing more, needing everything.

“Say it,” she growls.

“I’m yours,” you gasp, voice wrecked, desperate.

Paige grins—wild, triumphant—before crashing her mouth against yours again, her hand slipping back between your legs, fingers dragging through the mess she’s already made of you.

“You’re gonna give me another one,” she murmurs, voice dark, teasing.

Your breath stutters, eyes going wide.

“You can’t—”

“I can.” She presses the vibrator back against your clit, fingers already sliding back inside you, making you sob. “And I will.”

Then she fucks you, properly, thoroughly, relentlessly, making you come again and again until you can barely breathe, barely think, until the only thing left in your head is her.

The room is wreckage. Pillows displaced, sheets tangled, the air thick with the scent of sweat and satisfaction. Your limbs are jelly, nerves still sparking like frayed wires, pleasure still ghosting along the edges of your skin in aftershocks you can’t quite suppress. Paige—Paige fucking Bueckers—is lying beside you, her chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths, arm slung possessively across your stomach like she owns you now.

And maybe she does.

You blink up at the ceiling, brain still trying to reboot. The night—Jesus, the night—had unraveled into something primal, something endless, something that had pushed you past exhaustion, past coherence, past sanity. Paige had wrecked you, torn you apart, rebuilt you in the shape of something raw and ruined and aching for more. And now—

Now, she shifts beside you. A lazy stretch, muscles flexing, a small, satisfied hum escaping her lips. You don’t have the energy to turn your head, but you feel her, the weight of her gaze settling on your profile.

Then, voice still husky from exertion, smug and utterly fucking unbearable—

"So, do you want to get dinner with me?"

Your brain stalls.

Your head turns, slow, disbelieving, vision sharpening just enough to catch the absolute shit-eating grin tugging at her lips. She’s fucking with you. She has to be. After everything—after the way she spent hours making you come until you forgot your own name, until your body had nothing left to give, until you had collapsed against her, too spent to do anything but breathe—she’s asking you out. Like it’s casual. Like it’s normal.

Like this isn’t the most insane, deranged turn of events imaginable.

You stare.

Paige smirks.

And you—God help you—you might actually say yes.

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inkskinned · 9 days ago

Text

people have to make their own choices and make their own mistakes and you know that but you're on your third gin cocktail.

she's almost-angry while she talks. "he took the train with me. all the way home. it's an hour in the wrong direction." she's got a bright yellow raincoat and round glasses. she looks cute and thoughtful and like she reads books a lot. she's his type and you know that.

the bartender rolls her eyes and points to you. "he drove this one to her grandma's house. six hours both ways."

you were younger then, hadn't ever kissed a girl yet. were still saying "bicurious" because of your irish catholic family. it was so long ago skinny jeans were still socially acceptable.

and you'd met him, and he'd been perfect. his narrow face and dark hair and his wry self-deprecation. and - okay, yes, the fact he was a singer/songwriter was also hot. you liked the feeling of sundays with him, the two of you noodling through his new songs together while you slowly learned to play bass guitar. you liked writing his name on your converse. you liked his ironic "mom" tattoo and his fancy coffee obsession and his scrappy handwriting.

you didn't know, then, what kind of man he was. maybe he didn't either; he was young too. you say it into your earl-grey-gin-something. "he has... a playbook, i guess. the things he does... he does it with everyone."

she looks at you with wide, beautiful eyes. jesus christ, she's young. "we stood outside in the rain, just talking," she says. "i know that can't be fake. i have a ton of, like. examples here. he's a good guy. you should have seen him. i'm not, like, a complete idiot."

did you play defense attorney with him like this? did you bristle when others warned you about how quickly he leaves women?

you gnaw the thin black straw and stare at the other side of the building, where his band is setting up to play. you have no true rage against him, but it's not fun to watch him ruin other women. "did he get you a little stuffed animal yet?" yours had been a panda.

she stares at you and then nods, just once, stiffly.

you hold out your hand and start listing things, weighing them on your fingers. "did he tell you that he'd never seen someone like you, that you move like a dancer or something?" at her nod, you continue. "buys you ice cream and then drives up to the river to watch the stars? shows up at your place just because he missed your voice? takes you to the pet store to look at the fish?"

the bartender points at you. "don't forget he does that little dog game he does."

you close your eyes. you remember him in his stupid leather jacket, bouncing on his toes. he'd gotten the petstore clerk to allow him to handle a ferret. you had vibrated with joy, wrestling the noodle bodies from hand to hand. and then he'd said we're going to live together. we're going to get a big dog and a big lawn and -

"you get into a fake fight about what you'll name the dog," you monotone.

"chili," she says. she sets her jaw a little higher, and you catch a flash of muscle clenching. "we settled on chili. it's gonna be an irish setter."

the bartender snorts while she maneuvers deftly through making a batch of espresso martinis. "sounds about right. now i've got two rotties, but when that shit happened to me? we chose Portland. and we were gonna get a samoyed." she snorts again. "as if he could afford that grooming bill."

you had actually started that conversation in the pet store. you wanted a big, slobbery dog. a mutt, but a big mutt. something mastiff-like. something that you could walk alone at night with. your family has a tradition of "letting the dog name itself," where you'd write all the potential names on a piece of paper and then throw them. whatever the dog went to, it'd be the dog's name.

but he had said name it something girly since it's so big. he suggested Lavender or Pansy. at the time you'd thought it was funny and cut and sort of sweet. he wanted to pick up a dog from the ASPCA that weekend, he said. i'm gonna go get us Lavender. you hadn't learned yet that he would promise you a river but never even deliver a raindrop.

"it's like this every time, babe," the bartender says, not unkindly. "i'm sorry. i've seen too many like this, and you seem like a sweet kid."

the other woman bristles. "i'm not a kid. thanks for your advice. but." she stands up, slaps a ten down, stalks away.

the bartender looks at you and holds her hands up and shrugs. you shake your head and look down into the drink, stirring it idly.

"do you think he's written her the four lines yet?" the bartender asks, pushing a drink to someone.

you almost flinch, but don't. you'd been in the back shed, practicing together. he said he had a present for you - the beginnings of a new song. really just a couplet more than anything, barely more than 30 seconds. it should have made you feel glorious, feral, glowing.

but you had stood there, realizing you had books of songs about him, none of which he ever agreed to play. the song he'd written you had floated through the room and you felt strange and disconnected and insane all at once - it was such a vapid, stupid stanza he'd made. and then he said that terrible phrase - i love you babe.

and you had been suddenly both very out of your body and also very present, thinking: oh my god this guy is a buffoon and i'm wasting my time. the spiralbound notebook with pages of poems and lyrics and stories you'd written for him is now stashed in some rubbermaid. you'd wanted to burn it at first, but the effort had exhausted you.

the four lines of song are usually pretty banal - something about her eyes, something about her smile, something about how she's special. but they work. they always work, because people want to believe in the magical commodity of love - that it cannot be manufactured.

later in the night you watch that man get on stage and sing punk rock to a thinning crowd. he takes the time out of the setlist to try out a "new song" that goes out to his girl in the crowd, all of 30 seconds of music. he says he likes her eyes and her smile and she's special.

you think about stopping her physically. you think about showing her the group chat of exes in your phone. you think of how young she is - maybe 22? - and how you, at 22, would have told your current self fuck right off. you had believed it too, after all. people need to make their own choices. besides. maybe you're wrong. maybe this time it actually is that precious, starry, once-in-a-lifetime love.

you see her kiss him afterwards, her cheeks pink. it looks like a puppy being swallowed by a wolf. you have to check the floor to make sure no blood was spilled.

#warm up #this is what i dreamt last night lol

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whorelaud · 3 months ago

Text

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (04)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content suggestive !

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 03 ¡ 04 ¡ 05

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Rafe doesn’t know what he did wrong.

One moment, you were laughing and having a blast together, then the next, you were ignoring him, feighing oblivion to the puzzled expression that spread across his face. He played it off, ignoring the emotions washing over him everytime you fixed your attention on him, suddenly feeling his chest swell with pride as you directly flashed him a smile.

Then again, you were his best friend’s little sister, he shouldn’t be bothered by such things, after all, you had control over your own life. But he couldn’t help it, not with your change of tone over the past few weeks.

The mixed signals you sent him were killing him alive, and you didn’t even know it. At one point, he’d excuse himself earlier than everyone else, needing a moment to think his feelings through, contemplate over the sudden rush of frustration every time you’d refer to him as ‘bro’, or introduced him as your brother to other people.

He was sure that you, maybe, in the slightest bit, had interest in him, so what changed? What made you switch up in an instant, casually referring to him as your own brother when the dms you exchanged said otherwise.

It was cool, though, it’s not like you were being serious, merely messing around to entertain your friends. Besides, it was casual, you were both cool, that was all that mattered, right?

Rafe was sprawled on the couch located in your room, mindlessly scrolling through his phone while Ryan and Sarah argued from beside him, with you falling into a fit of giggles everytime Sarah roasted your brother.

The boy strived to remain calm, brushing off the glances he kept stealing in your direction, in an attempt to capture the sliver of skin peaking through everytime you lifted your arms. Hell, he wasn’t even ashamed, brazenly undressing you with his eyes, making you feel shy under his gaze, as it burned holes through your flesh.

“When will you be done?” Sarah suddenly started, dodging the pillow Ryan tossed in her direction. “Can you tell him to stop?!”

“Stop bothering her, Ryan.” You glimpsed over your shoulder, chuckling when Ryan rolled his eyes, creating a barrier with the pillow separating them. “I’m almost done, I jus’ need to touch up my makeup, and get dressed.”

“Okay, I’ll get ready, then.” Sarah shot back, flashing you a smile, though you were facing the other way. “Have fun with these two!”

“Don’t leave me with them!” You whined in protest, Sarah’s footsteps echoing through the distance.

“Fuck you.” Ryan rolled his eyes, rising from his seat. “I need to get the car started, don’t take too long to get ready, it won’t change much.”

You scoffed at his snarky comment, dismissing the boy with your arm, letting tension seep through now that you were alone with Rafe, who was mere inches away from you. The latter maintained the same position, manspreading while he relaxed against the sofa, too accompanied by his phone to pay attention to you, or the fact that the others were gone.

However, you were well aware that wasn’t the case, not with the gazes he sneaked in your direction, lingering everytime your skin was exposed to the air. And if you did that on purpose, not a single person needed to know, not Rafe, that’s for sure.

A smile tugged at your lips, finishing up your makeup with a few touches before you were ready to go. Mind you, Rafe was still there, and not only was he staring, but he fully put his phone by now, entirely directing his attention to you.

Taking advantage of the situation, you pulled your shirt over your head, the gesture causing Rafe to halt in his spot, not expecting you to do such thing. His eyes instantly shifted down your back, throat running dry when you reached to unclip your bra, letting it fall loose around your arms.

Rafe’s fingers clutched around his phone, nearly breaking it with how tight his hold was. He couldn’t comprehend it, the sight of you half naked, though he could only see your bare back, it still drove him crazy, well aware that you were doing it on purpose; for a mere reaction out of him.

A knowing grin made its way across your lips, proud of the said reaction you received from the latter, now sat on your couch with his mouth desperately parting in a sigh, hinting the temptation seizing control of his body.

With a swift movement, you grabbed your swimsuit from the counter, sliding it on with ease, holding onto the two strings you wrap around the neck. Now, you could easily do it yourself, but what was the fun in that?

You wanted Rafe to suffer, regret each word he muttered regarding his feelings for you, even if it was for a brief moment. You’ve been sending the boy signals for the past few weeks, urging him to speak, break out of the shell he created around himself, but nothing was enough, though you did everything in your watch to prove him wrong.

That was until today, of course. Your head shot in Rafe’s direction, flashing him an innocent smile as you held the spaghetti strings in your hands, feigning ignorance to the disbelief spread on his face.

“Do you mind helping me?” You started, cocking your head to the side. “I can’t tie it properly.”

“Hmm?” Rafe choked out, shuffling around as he adjusted his pants, standing up from the position he was in. “Sure, uh, what do you need me to do?”

“You could just, you know,” your eyes flickered to Rafe, as his figure filled your sight, now hovering behind you. You offered him the strings in your hold, with the latter hesitating to reach out, contemplating whether this was a good idea. “You’ve done this before, right?”

“Not really,” he admitted, focusing his attention on the back of your head, as it filled the majority of his view. His hand hastily landed around your hair, faltering as he collected it in a fist, leisurely tucking it to your side. “I don’t go around tying girls’ bikini tops.”

“Is that so?” You mused, admiring as Rafe tied the knot into a bow, making sure it was firm around your neck. “Not your first time, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Why’s that relevant right now?” He whispered, words like music to your ears. His gaze locked with yours through the reflection of the mirror, causing your breath to hitch, immediately pausing in your track.

His breath fanned over your exposed back, the fraction causing shivers to run down your spine, Rafe too close for comfort. His hand burned where it laid, the tips of his fingers like feathers to your skin, tickling you as they deliberately trailed down your back, halting just above the string connected to your top.

Rafe seeked your gaze through the reflection of the mirror, searching for any sort of discomfort, continuing as he pleased when you leaned into the touch, silently consenting to the touch. Rafe saw his chance, and took it, his chest pressing to your back when his hand slid down to the curve of your waist, tracing over the flesh with the tip of his fingers, almost as if he’d hurt you if he applied any pressure.

“You could’ve easily done that by yourself.” Rafe’s voice tumbled into a whisper, tone dripping with desire, one he wasn’t aware he had within him. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You innocently shot back, satisfied with the squeeze Rafe gave to your hip in return.

His lips ghosted over your ear, a ragged breath escaping his throat as he hushed out your name. It was subtle, and if he wasn’t so close, you would’ve totally missed it. However, you heard it, the way he said it doing things to you.

“I’m surprised you know my name.” You replied, sarcasm visible through your tone.

Rafe remained silent at your statement, letting his eyes squeeze shut as he took a whiff of your scent, your aroma intoxicating his senses. He doesn’t know what overcame him at the moment, his hands moving faster than his brain when his fingers pressed down to your side, the fraction earning an inaudible gasp out of you.

A familiar voice echoed through your ears, causing both, you and Rafe to freeze, instantly scrambling to untangle yourself from his hold when Ryan’s shouts erupted through the walls, announcing that he’ll be waiting downstairs.

You cleared your throat, gaze travelling to the ground as you hid the smile forming on your lips, ignoring the way your pulse quickened from Rafe’s touch. The latter hovered from behind you, debating what his next move should be, his arms awkwardly hanging to his side.

“I need to change out of my pants,” you exclaimed, cutting through the silence, your sentence earning Rafe’s attention. “Are you gonna keep staring?”

“What?” He choked out through a breath, lips slightly parting.

“I’m asking if you could leave,” you further explained, chuckling at the way his cheeks flushed, tinted with faint redness. “Unless you want to stay–”

“I’ll leave.” He hurried to respond, “You continue getting ready, I’ll buy you some time.”

An appreciative smile tugged at the corner of your lips, observing as Rafe took off, leaving you a flustered mess while you contemplated over what just happened.

Was it not a dream? Because, no way in hell did that happen, with Rafe; of all people.

Quickly changing out of your bottoms, you threw on a shirt over your top, heading downstairs. You perked up at the sight of your best friend, accepting the hug she offered once you were in her presence.

Your families decided on eating out with, and in their words, the kids, suggesting they go to a fancy diner to blow off some steam, having been drained with work for the past few days. While staying in bed was tempting, you couldn’t deny your parents, kindly begging you to tag along.

It was a nice little catch up with the elders, they informed you of all the business they’ve been discussing as of late, which in your opinion, was boring, merely smiling and nodding to everything they said.

Rafe’s eyes didn’t leave you the whole night, taking the seat across from you, making it impossibly hard to avoid him. For a moment, you started regretting your choices, catching on the awkwardness seeping through the air, the atmosphere heavy with tension.

The boy kept to himself for most of the time, his responses short every time Ryan would speak, interrupting the thoughts clouding his head. It was extremely difficult to brush off what went down between you two, the said moment switching a button inside him.

He was aware of your beauty, finding you alluring from the moment that you dmed him, but right now, it was different. He admired you with such endearment, gaze flickering to your glossy lips, too busy chatting with Sarah to direct your attention to him.

He shook off his thoughts, peeling his eyes off of you as guilt settled in his chest. He can’t let anything happen between you two, after all, he did promise Ryan that nothing would bloom out of this, and while a hint of disappointment filled his insides when Ryan drew a line, he did everything in his will not to question it.

The ride back filled with chaos, you and Sarah claiming aux the moment you stepped in the car. Your parents snickered as you two sang along to the lyrics, creating your own karaoke throughout the drive back.

“Do you guys want to watch a movie?” Sarah questioned once each of you took a corner on the couch.

“Sure.” Ryan rose from his seat, surprisingly excited. “What should we watch?”

“I’ll pass,” you huffed, standing to your feet. “I’m kind of tired, go ahead and watch without me.”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion, puzzled by the excuse you used. His eyes shifted to Sarah as she tried to convince you to stay, merely for you to brush off her attempts with an apology, insisting they continue without you.

He didn’t question you, yet, of course he was concerned, blaming your action back to what happened earlier. Sarah played the movie, and Rafe was on the edge of his seat the entire time, itching to check up on you, find the reason behind your discomfort.

He could only handle so much, pulling out his phone when his curiosity was no longer bearable.

You perked up at the knocks erupting through your ears, eyes widening with shock, yet slight anticipation. Scrambling out of bed, you moved to approach the sound, twisting the doorknob with interest, peaking your head through the crooked door.

Your face flushed with heat at the sight of Rafe, concern washing over his face. He was slightly hovering over you, as you bent down, making him look extremely big compared to you. Rafe tilted his head, attempting to capture the rest of your face hidden behind the door.

“Are you not inviting me inside?” He asked, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was in sight.

“Why should I?” You scoffed, straightening your back. “Go back, they’ll be suspicious since you randomly disappeared.”

“I excused myself to bed,” he explained, hand pressing to the door. “Now let me in, I won’t take long.”

You suppressed the adrenaline rush filling up your insides, moving to the side for the purpose of welcoming Rafe in. The boy took the gesture for granted, entering and shutting the door behind him, his back pressing to the wood while his hand yet clutched to the doorknob.

“Let’s talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?” You rolled your eyes, arms crossing over your chest. “I said what needed to be said.”

“But I didn’t.” Rafe defensively shot back, darting his tongue out to wet his lips. “Now listen to me– I’ll be quick.”

“Okay,” you nodded, skeptical with where this was going. “Go ahead.”

“Listen, I’m sorry about earlier, hell, it was stupid.” His eyebrows furrowed with pent up frustration, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I jus’ got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

Your expression softened at the unexpected words, taken aback by his concern. Sure, you were expecting some sort of apology, but the way he spoke with such a sweet tone, indicating he was afraid he did something wrong, it didn’t fail to make your heart skip a beat, too caught up in your own head to respond.

Gaping your mouth to speak, your action fell short when you heard a knock on the door, causing both you and Rafe to halt in your tracks. You hushed Rafe when he parted his lips to talk, pointing out the suspicious amount of noise seeping through the silence.

“Do they know you're here?” You mouthed, making Rafe shake his head.

“Bug!” Sarah’s voice erupted through your ears, eyes slightly widening when the girl knocked again, striving to grab your attention. “Open up, I know you’re awake.”

“Hide,” you mouthed once again, grabbing Rafe by the wrist, and dragging him to your closet. “I’ll let you know when she leaves.”

“Wait–” Rafe froze when you gestured towards the cramped space. “I’m not hiding in your closet.”

“Do you wanna get us caught?” You warned, expression washing with disbelief.

“You’re acting as if we did something,” he grumbled back, avoiding your gaze. “I’ll jus’ say I was speaking to you; it’s no big deal.”

“You told them you were heading to bed,” you started, wincing when Sarah knocked again, implying she was still outside. “What will Ryan think when he finds out you were in my room, mind you, way past ten? Ryan’s crazy, he’ll kill both of us!”

“Okay,” Rafe huffed, “But I'm not hiding in your closet, I’ll wait in the bathroom until she leaves.”

“What if she decides to use it?” You argued, considering the possibilities. “I’m not risking it, Rafe, hide until she leaves; I’ll come up with an excuse to get you out.”

Without further questioning things, Rafe entered your closet, with you immediately shutting the door behind him. You mumbled a small ‘coming’ while aiming for the doorknob, coming to a halt when you twisted it open, anything but anticipating what was awaiting you outside.

“Took you long enough!” Kiara’s voice echoed through your ears, a breath knocking out of your chest when she embraced you in a hug, soon followed with Cleo joining you, as well as Sarah, and the rest of the boys, who stood to the side and watched with amusement.

“Why did no one tell me about this?” You gasped, tightening your hold around your friends.

“It was a surprise!” Sarah muffled out.

Yeah, Rafe was in for a night.

a/n hii!! sorry these wasnt smau this chapter buttt i hope you enjoyed :) likes n reblogs are v much appreciated!!!

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x brat!reader #rafe cameron smau #rafe cameron social media au #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe obx #drew starkey

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wonsroyalty · 2 months ago

Text

METER : ̗̀➛이희승

pairings/warnings: uni student!heeseung x reader, smut, <18 DNI,, not sure what other warnings to put here yet but i'll add more later

a/n: had this idea in the drafts for a longgg time but never wrote it so i finally got to work!!

“You could never.” your friend gasped from across you.

You could and you definitely would.

For context, you’d just announced to the table that you were planning on submitting a new entry into your collective, ‘Munch O Meter’.

Yes, you had a blog that ranked the guys and girls at your university based on how well they could eat pussy. It was a way of ‘taking feminism into your own hands’ as Yunjin liked to say.

If you weren’t all beautiful and popular, the cancellation of your friend group would’ve began a longggg time ago.

However, top of the list hadn’t been topped in over 5 months and your loyal followers were getting concerned.

Jake Sim had given Hyeju a ‘cosmic’ orgasm and she’d rated him a 97. Out of disbelief, you all took turns hooking up with him and truth be told he truly was as good as she’d said.

His average score was 90, placing him at the top of the list.

For the sake of your entertainment and theirs, you proposed an unexpected candidate.

Deep down you just wanted to see if he was a virgin but disguising your intrigue as concern for the list worked perfectly.

“Lee Heeseung..?” Yooyeon looked at you as if you’d just shit on her plate. “Seriously.”

Yunjin shook her head.

“Definitely not.”

You slouched in your chair sulking.

Whenever they put people forward, you encouraged their suggestions, thinking of their fun rather than the entertainment of the blog.

“I literally never suggest anyone.” you whined. “Just let me have this.”

“No.” Yunjin firmly shut you down.

Hyeju gave you a pat on the head, attempting to comfort you.

“But why?!” you sat up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table accidentally.

“Who even is he? If his name doesn’t ring a bell, he shouldn’t even be considered.” she doubled down.

You sighed exasperatedly.

Heeseung had come over to the table not even five minutes before, handing you the notes from music theory during your group brainstorming for the next candidate.

“He was that nerd.” Yooyeon explained to her. “The one with the baggy clothes and glasses that kept falling down his nose.”

“He’s really nice.” you frowned.

“Nice doesn’t cut it.” Yunjin shook her head. “If he’s a bad fuck you’ll just ruin his chances of getting with anyone else.”

Fed up with their resistance you swiped your bag off the table and announced that you were going to do it anyway.

Despite the protests sent your way you stormed off to find Heeseung.

There was only one place he could be - the library.

And that’s where you found him. Buried behind a pile of books while sipping on one of those cheap energy drinks.

You were just glad that you weren’t giving him a blowjob, out of fear that his sweat would reek.

Your fingers tapped his shoulder rapidly.

“Heeseung!” you sang.

“Shut up.” his friend who you knew as Jay, snapped at you.

You held your hands up, surrendering.

“Um.. Yn? What wrong?” Heeseung panicked. “Were my notes bad? Oh my Pythagoras, did I miss out anything!”

“Shut up!” Jay snapped again.

You shook your head.

“I just need to talk to you… over there.” you pointed towards the book shelves.

He didn’t even have time to respond before you were yanking him out of his seat, ignoring the books that toppled to the ground.

“I have a problem..” you started.

Now that he was up close in a tight space and you were asking for such a shameful act, the embarrassment caught up to you.

“Am I your last resort?” he asked.

“No!” you panicked. “My first….”

He held his hand awkwardly on your shoulder.

“It’s okay. What can I help you with?”

Your brain registered where you were and who you were with. The warmth of his hand felt nice but you had a reputation to uphold.

You shoved his arm off and he immediately gained composure, but not in the way that you wanted.

He wouldn’t hold eye contact with you anymore, feeling the weight of your different status’.

“I wanna enter you into the Munch O Meter.” you bashfully answered.

His head whipped towards yours.

“What the fuck.”

You covered your face with your fingers, curling into yourself.

“You stopped my studying for this joke? Are you kidding?” he glared before storming off.

Your fingers grasped at his jacket, pulling him back.

“I’m not joking.” you confess. “I don’t usually pick people but I wanna choose you.”

He scanned your eyes looking for any hint of doubt but couldn’t find any.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

“Yes. I’m definitely sure.” you stepped back.

He bit his fist to stop himself from squealing.

“Jay is gonna be so shocked.” he looked over at his friend. “One thing though,”

“Whatever you want.” you replied. “It’s the least I could do to be honest.”

“We need to get ramen, first.” Heeseung nodded calmly.

You smile dropped. “Fucking.. Ramen?”

“I promised Jay I’d get him some.” he shrugged, unbothered and not in a rush at all. “And i’m kinda hungry.”

You fought the urge to walk away then and there. Choosing to stick to the plan for your own pride. Going back to the lunch table would be way too embarrassing.

“Fine. I’ll pay.” you stormed off to their table.

Heeseung trailed after you packing up his things.

“What are you doing?” Jay huffed.

You yanked him out of his seat.

“Hurry up, we’ve got an errand to run.”

***

The whole way to the ramen place, you were forced to listen to their atrocious science jokes. You were smart enough to understand them but the quantity was overkill.

It was surprisingly close to your apartment so that was a bonus, you could ditch Jay as soon as they’d eaten and get on with what you wanted.

You paid and sat waiting for them to start eating.

Jay wasted no time but Heeseung looked skeptical.

“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked.

“Not hungry.” you shrugged.

“Eating ramen isn’t gonna make your pussy taste weird.” he deadpanned.

An old lady sat near the three of you gave you a look.

“Keep it down, will you.” you growled. “I said I wasn’t hungry.”

“Suit yourself.” Jay slurped. “If you tasted like ramen, he’d eat you out better.”

You flicked him in the head, his vulgar response had sent the old lady away.

Heeseung finally began to eat and you saw what Jay meant.

His eyes closed in pure bliss and he inhaled the food.

You hated how the noises coming from his mouth went straight to the pulsing sensation between your legs.

He didn’t even stop when he’d eaten all the noodles, gulping down the leftover soup without a care in the world. Even licking the bowl to not waste a drop.

You’d never wanted to be a bowl so badly.

“Is it good..?” you croaked out.

“Fuck, that tasted amazing.” he wiped at his face with a napkin. “You would’ve liked it.”

“Yeah..? Fuck.” you moaned out. “We’re going now. Bye Jay.”

You jumped to your feet bouncing impatiently as you watched Heeseung clean up.

“So when will I be on the list?” Jay joked.

“Idk. When we have a threesome or something.” you absentmindedly responded, pushing Heeseung’s arms into his coat.

You missed the way Jay began to choke on his spit, as you were busy shoving Heeseung out of the door.

“Someone’s needy, heh.” he rubbed the back of his head.

“No, it’s worse than that.” you sighed.

Heeseung stumbled after you as you dragged him to your apartment.

The two of you stood in silence as the elevator took you up.

"Are you okay?" Heeseung asked. " Do you still want to do this?"

You didn't respond and instead attacked his lips as soon as he’d kicked his shoes off in your apartment.

"That's not an answer." he pulled away.

"Fuck yeah. I still want this." you responded, dazed by his lips.

You bit, sucked and kissed at every piece of skin available.

He pulled you off by your hair. “Am I not here to eat you out?”

Your hands grabbed his, taking him across the apartment and into your bedroom.

He lightly pushed you onto your bed and hovered over you, placing light kisses on your lips.

His lips messily made their way down to your neck, stopping at the spot where he hear you cry out the loudest.

"Wait," you panted. "Have you done this before?"

You felt his hair brush against your cheek as he shook his head.

"Really?" you sat up.

Yes, you'd thought he was a virgin but but hearing the confirmation made your heart jump for joy.

"I've had sex before, just.. never eaten a girl out." he shrugged.

"Oh."

"Not what you thought, huh?" he squinted.

You scrambled to change your expression.

"That's not what I thought-"

Heeseung used his palm to smush your face into the mattress. Upon hearing you complain he shoved two fingers into your mouth, pushing them further down till you gagged.

"Shhh. Please just stop talking, oh my."

Your eyes widened in shock.

"Who are you talking to like that?" Is what you would've said if you didn't have fingers playing with your uvula.

He moved down to your shirt, popping each button with one hand but by his expression, you could tell he was getting frustrated. The fingers in your mouth popped out and moved to help slip you out of your shirt before unclasping your bra.

Heeseung took a second to fold the items and place them on your bedside table.

"Can you hurry up- Wait, fuck!"

He took your newly exposed breasts into his hands, twisting your tender nipples, painfully.

"What did I tell you?"

You scoffed.

"You can't actually expect me to be quiet. That's- Ow!"

He leant down and took a nipple into his mouth, biting down with his teeth, swirling his warm tongue around it before popping off.

"Shut up."

All the talk went down to where you desperately needed him the most.

Heeseung kissed down your stomach, hesitating at your skirt before unzipping it and folding it with the rest of your clothes.

You watched as his eyes widened at the sight of the wet patch on your panties as he dragged them down slowly.

"Do you always get this wet?" he asked in awe.

You shook your head feeling the embarrassment of being completely bare in front of him while he was fully clothed and composed in front of you.

"So that's your kink." he laughed. "Crazy, but I'm not surprised that you're kinda freaky."

"Shut up, Heeseung. I swear I'll-"

He sighed loudly, interrupting you once again.

"Didn't I tell you to keep your mouth closed?"

He lowered his body down the bed so that his face was eye level with your pussy, eyes wide and curious.

Cold air blew onto your clit as he watched you clench your nothing.

"Fascinating how the female anatomy works."

You sat up, resting on your arms.

"You're gonna turn me off, stop being weird!"

He looked at you as though you'd just called his mother a bitch but didn't respond.

Two of his fingers gathered the slick dripping out of you and lathered it all over your clit, switching up the tempo randomly.

Your head fell back, legs widening in pleasure.

"Cool..." he drawled. "You know you've got more than 10,000 nerve fibers here, right?"

Your arms collapsed from underneath you as you moaned out.

"Wow. When I actually want you to speak, you don't."

He experimentally slipped two fingers into your cunt, feeling around as he kept his other hand circling.

Your legs closed around his shoulders as you gripped onto your sheets when he found the spot that usually had you screaming.

You felt Heeseung speed up the pace as you gushed all over his fingers, orgasming faster than expected.

"Are you sure that was your first time?" you gasped for air.

The boy between your legs was clearly distracted.

He licked at the release leaving your pussy, closing his eyes in pure bliss before sticking his tongue in.

You rapidly fought to push his head away.

"No. No more." you sighed.

"I know you can get another one." he rested his head against your thigh.

"I really can't." you shook your head.

"Stop lying." he frowned.

"I'm not lying!" you lip dropped in shock.

"Jake literally made you cum four times and yet you don't want me to do it again. Right."

You sighed from your gut.

"But.. I'm tired." you looked away from his piercing gaze. "And since when did you even speak to Jake?"

"Good thing you don't have to actually do anything." Heeseung scoffed before diving back in.

Your fingers curled into the duvet again as he quickly found a steady pace.

"Heeseung, I really can't." you whimpered.

He picked up the tempo in response, slurping and sticking his tongue as far into you as he could.

"Hee! Please." your weak arms attempted to push him away.

He continued to ignore you, your body setting alight as you got closer to a state of other-worldly pleasure.

"Heeseung, Jake lied!" you cried out. "I can't take it- I can't."

Heeseung seemed to reach a spot even deeper than you had ever tried, the constant stimulation had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Your hips bucked against his face uncontrollably as you got closer to your impending doom.

A loud moan left your lips as your entire body went rigid.

"Hee, fuck!"

In the midst of the best pleasure you'd ever felt you peeked an eye open to see how Heeseung was reacting.

He had his eyes closed and his tongue wide out as he tried to catch ever drop of the release you'd squirted out.

Your chest heaved as you attempted to get a breath in, causing him to open his eyes abruptly.

"Wait what." he frowned.

"Jake, he lied. I only came twice and that was because he fucking edged me for two hours. But I gave him a high score because I didn't know who told him about how I always squirt the second time." you confessed in a ramble.

Heeseung hopped off the bed shaking his head at how you picked at a thread on your duvet to avoid looking at him. He slipped off his boxers and jeans waiting for you to finish you sentence.

"I don't even recommend people for the list because my ex told me it was weird how I always squirt and since then I've just felt embarrassed so I don't fuck people, well aside from Jake because I didn't believe Hyeju, but I wanted to put you forward because, I don't know, I'm kind of admitting that I do in fact have a crush on you and this was like the only way I could get you to not be scared to talk to me outside of class and yeah I overheard you and Jay talking about it in Music Theory, truly shameless-"

Within a split second you had a dick shoved down your throat.

"Fuckk." he moaned out. "Didn't I tell you to stop talking."

He raked your hair into a makeshift ponytail for easier access to use you how he wanted.

"You just don't listen." he sighed, gagging you over and over.

If you weren't sweating before, you definitely were now.

Your hands gripped onto his thighs for dear life as he ruthlessly used your mouth.

"I can't focus on the moment when you keep speaking." he looked you in the eye. "And I know it sounds mean but, fuck, I didn't think we were ever gonna do this again, so I obviously wanted to have a good memory of right now."

His fingers left your hair, head falling back onto your pillows.

You grabbed them and pulled them back.

"You're so hot." he moaned. "And your ex is a fucking imbecilic, doltish prick. He didn't deserve you."

You sure as hell weren't letting Heeseung escape your grasp after this. You used one hand to jerk off whatever you couldn't reach while the other fondled his balls. His hips thrust up into you uncontrollably as he let himself go.

He watched in surprise as you swallowed every last drop before composing himself and walking over to the pile of folded clothes.

"Hee, where are you going?"

He gestured towards the door.

You tilted your head in confusion.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I liked you, come back here!"

He laughed in disbelief, landing on your bed and pulling you into his embrace.

"You like me?"

You nodded.

"I have for a while actually."

He kissed the top of your head as you reached to get your phone.

Bitchless Bitches😩

heeseung lee - 100

yunjin🪼

YOU IM GONNA FWJOFNQ

hyeju🌺

OHHH so that's where you went

yooyeon🐰

how do we know that he's actually that good..

hyeju🌺

PREACH

if hes a 100 let me at him🥰

no. off limits.

Heeseung laughed at your messages.

"Next time we'll actually fuck." You nodded with determination as you put your phone away.

"Next time?" he gasped in shock.

"Duh. You can't leave now."

"Wow you really want that threesome with Jay."

"What threesome with Jay?"

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giannaln4 · 4 months ago

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GIANNA'S KINKTOBER '24 SEASON

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Kinktober day sixteen.

Breeding Kink (3.2k words)

summary: Since the moment he met you, Lando knew he wanted you to be the mother of his children, and that feeling only intensified when he saw taking care of your nephew.

warnings: NSFW, +18, smut, MDNI, established relationship, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talking, breeding kink.

To anyone else, and as people would expect, seeing your significant other with a child should warm your heart; it should give you a soft spot for the person you’ve vowed to spend the rest of your life with.

Lando did feel like that when he saw you interact with any kid, like when you were walking in the paddock and a kid came up to him and you always made conversation so they wouldn’t feel so shy, or when a driver brought their kid to the race and you immediately leaned down to talk to them, sometimes even holding their tiny hands as they swore they had the coolest thing to show you.

That was the first few times, at least. But he will never forget how everything inside him shifted when you first met his niece. She instantly fell in love with you, and she needed to drag you everywhere. Who could blame her, really; that’s just the effect you have on people.

But god, the effect you had on him? That was another level, because the way he felt that weekend when you picked up a motherly role when you were with her made him feel something he had never felt before, something he never imagined, and quite honestly, he couldn’t explain it. That was until you were saying goodbye and the little girl nearly cried when her mother took her from your arms, and his hands instinctively landed on your tummy when he walked you back to the car.

The thought of you carrying his child and taking care of them the same way you did with his niece — now that is a fire he could never put out, not until it became a reality. He wanted- no, he needed to make you a mother; he desperately needed to put a baby in you in a way that was almost primal.

You and Lando have been together for years, and it was common knowledge that he wanted kids. Sure, you have talked about having a family one day after getting married, one day, but sometimes he just wishes you could skip all of that and make a baby once and for all.

For months, he kept those thoughts to himself, not wanting to ruin what you had just because he couldn’t contain his desire buried for a little longer; that was until you babysat your 5-year-old nephew, Charlie.

He came back home sometime in the afternoon, eyes tired and body aching for the intensity of the past weeks. He wanted nothing more than to be with his girlfriend and forget about the world, but as soon as he stepped into your apartment, he heard the TV and loud chuckles coming from the living room.

His brows frowned in confusion as he dropped his bags next to the door and followed the noise, his heart nearly stopping when he spotted you playing with the little kid.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” He said with a huge smile.

“Oh hi, you’re home,” you sprinted towards him, hugging him tightly when he caught you in his arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he kissed your temple. “And how is this little guy doing?" Lando walked towards Charlie, kneeling next to him to be at the same level.

“Good, we are playing with the puppies,” he exclaimed, his tiny finger pointed at the TV.

“Yeah? Are they fun?” He just nodded and ran closer to the glowing screen, completely forgetting about Lando’s existence and jumping again as his tired eyes followed the dogs.

“Don’t worry, my sister will pick him up in a couple of hours.”

“It’s fine. He seems happy.”

“And very tired. I think it's time for a nap, what do you say?” You walked towards him, trying to pick him up, but he refused.

“No! I wanna play racing again.”

“We can play some other time, I promise.”

He looked up at you, the corners of his mouth turning down as his eyes quickly filled with tears. He shook his head and ran back to Lando, who was still on his knees, as he caged himself in his arms.

“I wanna play racing,” he repeated, this time to your boyfriend, sniffling and wiping his tears.

“Yeah? We can play for a little while.”

“Lando-” The way he just betrayed you, you would never forgive him.

“He’ll want to go to sleep soon, don’t worry.” You saw them walk to Lando’s streaming room, Charlie skipping as he held his hand.

You rolled your eyes and followed them, crossing your arms as you rested against the door frame. Lando tried to pick him up, intending to sit him in the sim, but he nearly lost his mind, as if Lando had no idea how playing racing worked.

“No! Auntie.” Lando freaked out and out and put him back down, looking at you as he begged for your help with a single look.

“I’m right here, sweetie.”

You stepped closer to them, sitting on the chair as you picked him up and put him on your lap. He was happy again, his little feet kicking in the air as he gripped the steering wheel.

“We’ll do one more, okay?”

“Yes!” He happily exclaimed.

Lando watched the both of you in awe as you started the game, showing Charlie all the cool cars he could choose from.

“I want the blue car again!” He said, pointing at the Red Bull. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Lando joked. You giggled at this, but chose the Red Bull for the race.

It was a free practice session, so you weren’t actually racing other cars, but you still got to drive it super fast, which is exactly what he liked.

As the session started, you placed your hands just below his. You were doing all the work, but the illusion was still there.

It was a little harder to drive like this, but you still managed to put up a few good laps without messing up too much, but even when you did, he was enjoying it, giggling and pointing at the screens as he turned to Lando to ask him an excited “did you see that?” Any time something happened, and every time, Lando would just nod and match his enthusiasm.

The session ended, and just like you did earlier today, you congratulated your nephew for his amazing driving. He took the compliments proudly as if he just won a championship, but his head soon fell on your chest, yawning as he snuggled closer.

“Okay, time for a nap.”

He didn’t resist this time. Instead, he nodded as his eyes closed. Lando helped you get up as you held Charlie close to you, walking towards the guest room; that was the room he preferred, saying your room was too scary and probably haunted.

You carefully laid him down, taking his shoes off and covering his body with a blanket. How was he already in a deep sleep? You had no idea, but you envy him.

While he was asleep, you took the time to clean up the mess he made earlier, picking up all the toys he brought and putting Lando’s helmets back where they belonged. You loved your nephew, you really did, but man, it was really challenging to take care of a child. Not only were they messy and unpredictable, but they had so much energy you could barely keep up. You often wondered how your sister did it.

Once you finished up, you dramatically collapsed on the couch. “I need to sleep for like a week,” you joked, your boyfriend laughing at your antics.

He made his way to the couch, sitting next to you as he pulled you in a warm embrace, hands caressing your sides as he placed a sweet kiss on the top of your head. “Me too, and I was only here for like half an hour.”

“Imagine! I’ve been with him since this morning. I’m never babysitting again.”

“No? But you love Charlie.” He looked at you expectantly, trying to decipher if you were being serious.

“I do, but it’s too much sometimes. I honestly don’t know what we’ll do when we have our kids.”

Our kids. Two simple words that opened up a can that you would never be able to close. He stayed silent, mentally cursing the tent forming in his pants for betraying him in such an innocent moment.

You didn’t think anything of it, nor did you realise what those two words did to him, so you just reached for the remote control and browsed the channels. You ended up picking a cooking show, paying attention as if you would ever cook anything like that.

The entire time, Lando was paying attention to you — all of you. He admired your face, your hands, your hips… your tummy. He couldn’t stop himself from placing both his hands on your stomach, imagining what you would look like carrying a child. His child. He was well aware he was getting ahead of himself, but after witnessing today’s events? God, he needed to do something about it.

Another hour went by, and you were already catching up to your boyfriend’s intentions. To you, everything seemed normal at first, but the lower his hands got and the way his thumb was rubbing soft circles on your stomach, it clicked. You knew how Lando felt about having a family with you, but it never crossed your mind that seeing you with kids affected him so much. Though it all made more sense now, any time you were near a kid, even if you didn’t interact with them at all, his hands would be all over you, and when he got you alone? That’s another story, but you never connected the dots until now.

Suddenly, a phone call made both of you jump. It was your sister calling you to let you know she was in the building, ready to pick Charlie up. You gathered all his things as Lando greeted your sister, walking her in and guiding her to the guest room.

“Aw, he looks so peaceful.”

“Well, you should’ve seen him two hours ago,” you joked.

“I know,” she laughed with you. “Thank you for taking care of him on such short notice, you saved my life today.”

“It’s okay, I love spending time with Charlie, and I’m happy to do it any other time.”

“Thanks, Y/N. He honestly loves you, you have no idea how happy he got when I told him we were coming here.” Your sister was about to carry Charlie in his arms, but Lando offered to bring him down to the car.

Okay, now you got it. You had to admit that seeing Lando carry a little kid did things to you, and since your realisation a few minutes ago, you couldn’t stop thinking about a family; how did you suddenly get your own case of baby fever? Sure, you were still young, and that probably wouldn’t happen for at least a few years, but fantasising couldn’t hurt anyone.

You walked back to the apartment holding Lando’s hand, his grip so tight you thought he could break your hand if he squeezed a little harder. As soon as the door closed behind you, he grabbed you by the hips and turned you around, his lips crashing into yours in an intense kiss.

Kissing him back, your arms wrapped around his neck as one hand played with his hair.

“You looked so pretty today, taking such good care of the baby,” he mumbled against your lips, biting it sofly. You couldn’t contain the moan that left your mouth, only encouraging him further.

He carried you to your bedroom, immediately throwing you in the bed and hovering over you. He pressed himself further into you, making you very aware of his hardening cock as he nudged his bulge into your lower stomach. You moaned again, your legs going around his torso to pull him down.

“I wanna put a baby in you. God, you would look so perfect.” He didn’t know what to do with you. He wanted to kiss you, bite you; he wanted to touch you everywhere, his own mind making him feel overwhelmed.

After quickly taking off your shirt, he started kissing you everywhere, a trail of wet kisses making their way down your body. His touch was electric, making you nearly squirm beneath him as your fingers kept a tight grip on his hair, and his words only made the feeling intensify.

“Lando,” you moaned, he hummed in response, “do it,” you simply said. God, the way everything inside him shifted is something he wanted to remember for the rest of his life. He looked up at you, eyes filled with a hunger and desperation you had never seen before.

“Yeah? You want me to put a baby here?” He asked you, his big hand falling on your lower stomach as he kissed it.

“Mhm, yes.” Your heartbeat was as strong as ever, and you were already having a hard time focusing. You needed him to do something and you needed it now.

“Fuck,” he breathed as his hips involuntarily thrusted into the mattress. His lips kept exploring the lower part of your body as his hands worked on getting rid of your joggers, hands falling on your thighs immediately after to move them to rest on his shoulders.

“Please, I need you so bad,” you begged, and he assumed you were asking him to pay attention to your poor pussy, which you were, but his mouth is not what you needed right now, so you stopped him after one firm lick. “Inside me.”

“As you wish, my love.”

He got off the bed to quickly discard his clothes as you did the same with your bra, falling back on the bed as you eagerly waited for him. You felt like his gaze was piercing you as he lowered his body, pressing himself against you.

You moaned in anticipation, your arms wrapped around his neck as you felt your pussy starting to drip with desire. He moved his fingers along your sides and all the way down to your hole, collecting your wetness and spreading everywhere, finally getting to your clit as he rubbed soft circles for a moment.

He moved his mouth to your chest, taking one of your nipples into your mouth as he whimpered, and his mind instantly went to how sensitive and full they would be once you were pregnant, and he couldn’t wait any longer. “You look so fucking sexy tonight, sweetheart... I wanna fuck you so bad.” He was practically drooling as his fingers left your pussy and grabbed his cock, pumping it a couple of times before guiding it to your entrance.

You couldn’t help your gaze dropping to his member, already swollen at the tip and bubbling with precum. It seemed impossible, but you were sure you had never needed him this bad.

He pushed into you, making both of you moan loudly as his eyes met yours for a moment before pressing a kiss on your lips, whispering a little “I love you.”

He didn’t give you that long to adjust. His hands went under your ass, moving you up and down his cock. As if your sex life wasn’t already rough, the intention he had in mind just made him go crazier, because the way he was thrusting into you was bound to leave you sore for days.

The room was filled with whimpers and slick noises the whole time, moans of each other’s names joining from time to time. “Gonna fill you up so good,” he breathed, his hands squeezing your ass, “fuck, can’t wait to see your tummy grow.” All you could do was moan, the words leaving his mouth putting you under a spell that you could never escape. “Do you want that, love?”

“Uh- huh,” you managed to spit out, fingers drigging into his strong biceps.

“Wanna hear you say it.”

“Fuck- ah. I want you to put a baby in me.” You replied, eyes focusing on what your words did to him.

His hips began to speed up, thrashing your head against the pillows as he repeatedly hit that sweet spot deep inside you. He was so deep you could practically feel him in the pit of your stomach.

“Harder,” you whimpered, and he immediately started to drill into you, the air nearly getting knocked out of your lungs as his grip tightened.

“You feel so good around me, so so good for me,” he pants, looking down to where you were connected. “Fuck.”

“Ah- Lando.” It felt so good. So good that you are too far out of reality to form any thoughts; you could only think about him and how good he looked above you, with his mouth hung open in pure pleasure as he panted.

One of his hands made its way to your tummy, pressing down where he could feel himself. It was so simple yet so effective; he could feel his cock moving deep inside you. He gragged it further, his fingers catching your clit.

“Fuck,” you let out a broken moan, “just like that.”

He smirked at this; it was like you were begging him to get you pregnant as you began to tighten around him. He knew you were close; he could not only feel it but see it, the way your eyes were squeezed shut as your legs started to quiver.

“You wanna cum? You wanna cum while I fill you up?”

“Fuck,” you screamed as your head frantically nodded.

“Cum with me, I’m gonna put a baby in there.”

With that, your orgasm began to take over, squeezing around him tighter, triggering his own release. He slowed his movements down and both his hands took a hold of your waist, keeping you in place so you wouldn’t waste a single drop.

Both your moans were even louder as he did his best to continue pushing into you through his orgasm, wanting to pump as much of his seed into you as he possibly could. When he physically couldn’t keep going, he stopped, keeping his cock deep inside you as he tried to catch his breath.

He looked down at you, a smile adorning his face as he looked down at the mess he made. Slowly, he pulled out, his fingers quickly replacing his cock as he pushed his cum back into you, making you squirm and whimper at how sensitive you were.

“Gonna have to squeeze for me, love, you gotta keep it inside.” The sight almost made him want to fuck you again; he couldn’t believe how pretty you looked filled up to the brim with his cum.

His eyes locked with yours, fingers going inside his mouth as he licked them clean. He had lost his mind; you were sure of that, but fuck, you couldn’t deny how hot that was.

With a satisfied smirk, he fell next to you, pulling you into his arms as he kissed you once more. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

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odoraful · 8 months ago

Text

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

wanderer would prefer not to be stopped on his way home, especially when he's had a hard few days

content: wanderer x gn!reader; established relationship; 'kuni' nickname; pure fluff; just wanderer lowkey being a pathetic lover boy for you; 1.9k words

a/n: nothing else to say here besides i had a lot of fun writing this !! pls enjoy clingy wanderer !!

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“Hat Guy! Do yo-”

“Nope.”

Wanderer deadpanned, not even sparing a look at the scholar who addressed him as he walked past. It was at this point where most people would give up. Students of the Akademiya found that you had to catch the snarky scholar on a good day to strike up a casual conversation with him outside of the classroom. Unfortunately, this person was tenacious enough to not even let such an outright rejection faze him. Wanderer walked faster, only for his peer to match his stride.

“Hold on!” They cried out, slightly breathless from having to speed up. “You’re really not going to let me finish what I’m saying first?”

Wanderer scoffed. “What gave you that impression? My visible irritation? Or the fact that I’m actively trying to outpace you?”

“Hey! You don’t have to be so rude…” They frowned, voice trailing off in disappointment.

Finally giving the person a side-eyed glance, he recognised them to be a fellow Vahumana scholar named Mir. Whilst Wanderer could acknowledge Mir’s intelligence, he was far too soft-hearted for how stubborn he was. At that deflated comment, Wanderer stopped dead in his tracks. Mir wobbled, skidding on his feet to stop as well.

He considered using his flying abilities to leave Mir in the dust. However, this plan was only a fleeting thought as he recalled a stern meeting he had with staff at the Akademiya. They scolded that he wasn’t allowed to use his powers to avoid interaction with his peers. Something about misconduct and lacking etiquette that Wanderer half-remembered, choosing to nod along rather than actually listen to the prattle from the professors.

“Mir.”

He perked up. Wanderer could see his self-esteem reassemble at the mere fact that his name was remembered.

“What do you want?” Wanderer seethed, each word punctuated through gritted teeth.

If Mir felt intimidated at all by Wanderer’s ire, it showed little on his face. He only brightened further, seizing his chance to speak.

“I wanted to see whether you wanted to go to a social event later tonight at Lambad’s! There’ll be free drinks and food, and it’s really just a friendly get together to boost morale. It’s meant to be for us Vahumana scholars to catch each other up on the work we’re doing, and on what’s been going on in our lives,” he rambled.

What could simply be said in a few words Mir incredibly managed to do in multiple sentences. Wanderer let out a loud sigh.

“Mir,” he began, folding his arms. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you’ve just returned from a long and arduous trip from the desert where you’ve used all your energy up to explore ruins. Would you want to spend what little time off you have for the day going to a crowded tavern with people you only barely know?”

Mir stuttered. It was the most Wanderer had spoken to him in one go.

“W-well, that’s a good question! I guess it depends on what kind of-”

“Just answer it.”

Wanderer interrupted, dismissing Mir’s frivolous technicalities with a wave of his hand.

“Alright! Probably not! I’d just want to go home and relax.”

“And there it is,” Wanderer opened his arms wide, like a magician revealing their latest trick, “my response to your invitation.”

He turned smoothly on his heel and walked off. Mir opened his mouth to protest, but none came out. He stood there slack-jawed at his own words being used against him. Fortunately, he didn’t follow any longer.

Wanderer would probably short circuit if he bumped into anyone else right now. What he had told Mir was the truth. He was on his way home from the Akademiya just after returning from a 2 day trip in the desert. He would have enjoyed the expedition far more if his professor hadn’t dragged him out on such short notice. Most likely, she had seen that his schedule wasn’t as busy for the next few days and roped him into a project of ‘great academic importance’. Time that would have been spent doing whatever he wanted to at home had been replaced by sweltering weathers and endless scribing of ancient tomes.

Fate was a truly cruel force. Especially so when it separated him from you without warning. At the thought of his partner, he recalled how he announced his departure. He had to leave that same day, and you had already left for work, so he scrawled a note and left it on the table for you to look at when you returned.

My professor has taken me on an research expedition last minute. I’ll be back in 2 days time. I’ll make it up to you.

Kuni.

Perhaps he would come back to see the same annoyance he had when dealing with Mir on your face at such a lukewarm message.

There was an inexplicable weight in his body when he walked. A dragging emotion that humans would probably label as tiredness. He needed to get home and fast. If he did arrive to a grumpy partner, he wouldn’t mind it. You were the only person who was actually worth dealing with in his eyes.

He looked around. The sun had retreated behind the horizon, and there were only a few people mingling around the street he was on. Perfect. It was empty enough for him to not cause a spectacle. Wind kicked up around him as he swiftly launched upwards, flying high above roofs. This would certainly cut his commute time in half. Quietly, he navigated the familiar streets towards home.

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Dots of yellow emerged below from hanging lamps across the city. The residents of Sumeru were preparing for the night, whether in revelry or idleness. The latter suited you more, as you began to unwind from a day of work and waited for Wanderer to arrive. The news that he needed to leave had surprised and saddened you a little. You were looking forward to spending more time with him over these few days when he wasn’t so busy with classes. If he kept to the words he wrote on that note, however, he would somehow make it up to you.

You held onto that hope as you folded clothes to be put away in the bedroom. Lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice movement outside as Wanderer approached the window on the second storey. Putting his face closer to the stained glass, your figure was rendered in an orange hue as he peered in. He tapped against the window with a finger.

You jumped with a yelp, turning towards the source of the disruption.

Honestly, you would have welcomed his arrival more warmly if the sight before you wasn’t so unexpected. Now, you couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh. Your boyfriend was hovering outside your bedroom window, staring at you like a rain-soaked cat waiting to be let inside.

You hurried towards the window, but didn’t reach out to open it just yet. Instead, you placed your hands on your hips, cocking your head to the side.

“We have a front door for a reason, you know.”

Even though your voice was muffled, he heard how you spoke in a sing-song manner.

“Well, I’m not at the front door now, am I?” He replied, matter-of-factly. “Mind opening up?”

Gesturing for him to step away a little, you unlatched the window and swung the glass outwards. Cool air immediately washed over your face, tickling your skin. He could hear the mild offense in your voice crystal clear now,

“I cannot believe this is how I’m being greeted after such a sudden departure-“

Your sentence cut off short as the wind got knocked out you.

Your boyfriend crashing into you mid-flight was a quick way to shut you up.

The force caused you to stumble back, falling to sit on the edge of the bed. Only then did the surprise settle in at what he was doing.

Wanderer had you in a tight hug.

Somewhat awkwardly, he was half-sitting in your lap, half-sitting on the bed. Shaking out of your stupor, you encircled your arms around his shoulders. Wanderer let his body fall limp, his feet now on solid ground. He buried his face in your neck.

“A-are you-”

“Don’t say a single word.” He said, voice low in warning. Though, the threat had little weight behind it with how he nuzzled into the hug.

Wanderer didn’t need to breathe to survive, but he had learned to inhale and exhale largely so that others wouldn’t gawk at him for his lack of breathing (he had honestly stopped doing it because of how bothersome it was to keep such a façade. However, after some convincing from Nahida about the necessity to get along with his peers, he begrudgingly adopted the habit once again). For you, it served another purpose. Clearly something or someone had riled him up earlier because his breathing had initially been huffed and short. Now, as he settled against your body, you felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, breaths slow and intentional.

“It’s only been 2 days, Kuni,” you pointed out with a soft chuckle.

His violet hair tickled your skin as he shifted his head, propping his chin up on your shoulder. Perhaps it was intentional that he kept his face out of your line of sight.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, “I know.”

“Then why are you acting like you haven’t seen me in months?”

Wanderer scoffed loudly. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

It was a shame you couldn’t see his face, for the way he closed his eyes and scrunched his nose in embarrassment at his own clinginess would’ve given you weeks of material to poke fun at him for.

“I think you do because I haven’t the faintest idea why you’re acting like this.”

There was no way he was falling for the fake, sugary innocence in your tone. You were an unstoppable force and he an immovable object. He chose to remain silent as you continued,

“Oh well, I guess I should go and finish folding these clothes if it’s nothing important.”

Abruptly, you removed your arms from him and went to stand. However, the grasp Wanderer had around your waist meant you could barely even move. Even bending over proved to be fruitless for you.

“Those chores can wait,” he muttered, interlocking his fingers together to hold you in place.

Despite knowing that you were messing with him, a small part of him was irritated that you even considered putting such a menial task above him.

You giggled at how touchy he was being. Your boyfriend could hardly come up with a word of affection without looking like he was going to combust, but would stop at nothing at the chance to hold you. You raised a hand to pat his head, smoothing his hair down. Every grievance he had over the past 2 days melted away with each pass of your hand. Archons, he even started to feel like he went a bit too harsh on Mir.

“Don’t worry,” Wanderer could hear the smile on your face as you began gently combing his hair between your fingertips. “I missed you too.”

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#odorawrites #genshin impact wanderer #genshin wanderer #genshin wanderer x reader #wanderer fluff #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #wanderer x y/n #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 7 months ago

Text

blushing birthday

a/n: iihhh! first story in this slutty au! felt like this was a good place to jump off from. and also, i just wanna point this out because i nearly never do and perhaps some people don’t realise it, but if you have a thought, an idea, a wish or request in this au (or any other, my inbox is always open for requests) then feel free to click on my ask button and send it my way ♡

summary: “so, what I was thinking,” you tilted your head, “was that before I go give him his present, you guys could maybe help me prep a little bit, warm me up and stretch out my ass enough to fit his big fat cock. Would you guys like that?”

warnings: various x camgirl!reader, smut, porn au, college au, roommate!bucky barnes, roommate!steve rogers, roommate!curtis everett, ex!ransom drysdale, dilf neighbour!andy barber, reader's porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), friends with benefits, happy hippie fun poly vibes, curtis’ birthday, partying, alcohol consumption, kissing, masturbation, impact play, fingering, toys, edging, clothed sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, multiple orgasms, anal, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

word count: 3953

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sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

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The last rays of sunshine for the day streamed in through the half-drawn curtains and cast soft shadows across your form as you sat cross-legged on your mattress.

With your reach outstretched towards your laptop propped up on the chair situated at the foot of your bed, you clicked on the go live button and watched as a countdown appeared on the screen, overlaying your visage staring back at you as your gaze briefly flickered around to check your gear one last time.

Thanks to your three roommates who’d insisted on helping you upgrade your setup, there wasn’t just one, but two cameras pointing directly at you. One angle to catch all of your frame and one zoomed-in to capture a perfect close-up between your legs.

“Hey guys!” a warm smile swiftly dazzled your features as you watched the first few people jump at your notification, “good evening or good–, whatever time of day it is for you.”

The messages in the chat started rolling in, some with usernames you recognised and some you didn’t.

TheFrogo: Hi Cherry! How are you? Have you had a good day so far?

DrownByPussy: Omg you’re finally live! I’ve been hard all day knowing I’d get to see you today.

“Hi Frogo, yeah, I’ve had a pretty good day, but I’m hoping that it might get even better, because I’ve got something pretty fun planned for tonight,” your hands absentmindedly fidgeted along the length of your legs as you spoke, “so, today is a friend of mine’s birthday and–, wait,” you paused and leaned in closer to catch a better look of the scrolling messages, “I haven’t seen you write in the chat yet, but birthday boy, if you’re here, you better log off right now or you’ll ruin your surprise,” you warned, glancing straight into the camera, “I’ll give you five seconds get off,” a pointer finger then kissed each of your digits as you counted down, “five… four… three… two… one,” you squinted a moment longer before a giggle bubbled out, “okay, so now that it’s just us, I can tell you what I’ve got planned,” you switched up your seat, moving your legs to comfortably kneel on the mattress with your frame slightly turned at an angle for you to better see the screen, but retroactively grant everyone a view of the curve of your spine as the line swooped down over your waist and blossomed into the plush of your ass, sinfully on display in the pastel blue, mesh lingerie you wore, “there is one thing in particular that he has just been begging for… any guesses?”

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer: Hmm… is it a particular fantasy? A little bit of roleplay action?

8inchStallion: Threesome?

“Nope. All fun suggestions, but no.”

TittyCokeKingXXX: Is it to bang in public?

Cream314159: How about anal?

“Cream! Yes! You guessed it!” you excitedly threw your hands up in the air, “it is anal that he’s been dreaming about.”

Ddadddy6969: I mean, who can blame him.

ItsBradBtch: Fucking same.

TearinYoBootyUp: Wish it was my birthday today so you’d let me fuck your tight little ass.

“So, what I was thinking,” you tilted your head, “was that before I go give him his present, you guys could maybe help me prep a little bit, warm me up and stretch out my ass enough to fit his big fat cock. Would you guys like that?”

KyleKyleson: Yes!

UrPervyDaddy398: Hell yeah, let’s get you ready to take that monster cock.

Casting a glance out of the nearby window, your eye couldn’t help but catch sight of the neighbouring house. It didn’t look like the divorced dad who resided there was home, though you still nevertheless searched for him. You weren’t completely clueless to his infatuation with you, though it had almost turned into a game, always trying to catch him peeping at you through the windows, or even taking it further by purposely wearing something skimpy when you’d go get the mail or other activities where you would know you’d bump into him. You didn’t judge him to be the type of man to ever really do anything about it, to actually reach out and grasp a wet dream of a girl so much his junior, but the teasing had become too much fun for you to stop, you were too far gone to draw the curtains closed now.

As a quiet jingle sounded from your speakers, indicating that someone had tipped you, your gaze flickered back towards the computer screen.

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer: Is that the underwear set I bought you off your wishlist? You look even more gorgeous in it than I imagined.

“Oh, thanks A,” you let your palms graze down over the thin mesh, feeling your pussy clench as your touch brushed over your nipples poking through the baby blue material, “yeah, it is. It matches the dress I’m planning on wearing tonight, so I thought I’d be cute.”

Call_Me_Sir_844: Turn around, Cherry. Let us see it from the back.

“Yes, sir, of course,” you chuckled lightly before shifting around, purposely arching your back as you glanced over your shoulder.

729AlwaysHard: How is your ass even real?

Like1OfUrFrenchGrls: Damn, that butt is just begging for a spanking.

Raking your touch down your sides, you smirked, “oh, you want me to spank my ass?” before the jingle of a tip echoed from the computer, “alright, baby,” and like a cat, your frame scooped down, gliding on to all fours and sticking your bottom high up in the air, “how many do you think? Let’s say, highest tipper gets to decide, but please, be kind, I still have to be able to dance the night away tonight.”

TittyCokeKingXXX tipped $50 – 10 spanks, with a paddle

BootyLover47 tipped $35 – 4 spanks

MrHansen tipped $100 – 6 spanks

“Thank you guys,” you wiggled playfully for them, “and Mr. Hansen, wow, thank you so much!” you squeaked ecstatically, “well, I guess I better start counting then.”

After each smack your palm landed on your propped-up bottom, the coinciding number rolled off your lips till your ass was tingling and sore for all your viewers to see.

WinterIsCumming: Fuck, just seeing your little pussy through those panties… they’re soaked, aren’t they?

Gliding a hand down between your legs, your fingertips ghosted over the sheer fabric that clung to your core.

“They are, Winter,” you blinked up at the camera, “man, I wish you were here to give me a hand.”

NastyBoi: Show us that pretty little pussy, come on, don’t be shy now.

“You want me to take my underwear off for you? Take them off so that I can really play?”

And with the chimes of tips swiftly ringing in your ears, one of your fingers then hooked in the gusset and carefully peeled it to the side, letting it act as a frame as you momentarily teased them with just a glimpse of your glistening folds, before you slowly slid them off completely.

Eventually, after your slick digits had gotten a chance to warm you up and tease you till you were practically buzzing on both of the camera angles that now displayed you, as it hadn’t taken you very long till you switched to a split screen, both your face frozen in a silent moan and your pretty holes drooling for attention pressed up against one another, side by side on the stream, your fingers then reached for a toy, the pretty glass dildo you had picked out just before the show.

You first popped the toy in your mouth as you flipped around and relaxed back against your pile of pillows. Letting your gaze flicker over the downright filthy comments rolling across the screen, you sucked on the toy for a bit before pulling it out and letting it float down south.

“Fuck,” your eyes fluttered slightly as you rubbed the tip gently against your little rosebud, “oh, that feels so good.”

Cream314159: Yeah, Cherry, tease that little ass like a good slut.

8inchStallion: Fuck, you’re gonna make me blow my load soon if you keep looking like that.

Ddadddy6969: Has your fuck buddy really never had your ass before? Tbh kinda hard to believe considering what a whore you are for all of us. I love your anal shows, they’re always my favourite.

“I know, daddy,” a light giggle tore through your form, “I’m honestly kinda surprised as well, but no, it hasn’t happened yet.”

BongDong420: Wait, are you an anal virgin? Plot twist.

“No, no, I’m not, I love anal,” you sucked in a gentle gasp as you let just the tip of the toy breach your tight opening, “I just haven’t really done it yet with too many different people. Actually, I’ve only done it with one so far, now that I think about it,” you swiftly shook your head and forced your eyes to flicker to the messages to rid your thoughts of your ex.

Call_Me_Sir_844: Please open your mouth, I’m gonna cum!

“Oh, yes, please cum for me, sir,” you answered the comment and then let your lips part wide. As your tongue stuck out as well, a string of saliva soon dripped down as you waited, the spit colliding with your tits and running down your cleavage.

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer tipped $550 – Don’t let yourself cum. Edge yourself so that you can be all drippy and dumb for him like a good little present should be.

Since you and your roommates lived in a residential area too quiet for college ragers, some of the guys Steve and Bucky were on the football team with offered to throw the bash at their fraternity.

Music blared, nearly making the entire house rumble, as you walked around the place, searching for the one of your roommates who the party was in honour of.

Fiddling lightly with the hem of your silky dress as you peeked into the room where a rowdy game of beer pong was afoot, you still felt a little dizzy as desperation soaked through your ruined panties.

Though, as you checked the kitchen, a bulky frame bumped into you, though it wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill frat boy, incapable of watching where they went, it was the very last person you wished to lay your eyes upon.

“Y/n, hey,” the trust fund kid caught your arm before you could slip away.

“Ransom,” you couldn’t help but clench your jaw as you tried to free yourself of his hold, “hello.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” you nearly scoffed as you squinted up at him, “it’s my roommate’s birthday party.”

“Right, forgot you moved in with all of them, became just one of the boys…” as a beat of silence fell over him, he let his gaze then rake over your form, lapping up the soft blue material that draped across your curves, “you look good tonight, by the way.”

“I–…” your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a sigh, “Ransom, can we not? Just for tonight, can we not do all of this? Just let me be here, celebrate my friend, and then after that, if you so wish, we can get back to our regularly scheduled program. Just one night of peace, that’s all I’m asking for.”

His dark brows then furrowed as he cocked his head, “babe, come on–”

Cutting him off with a scoff, you spat, “I haven’t been your babe since you broke up with me.”

He had been all for landing a girl that was essentially a wet dream come true when it came to all of the sinful areas you were itching to explore with him, but what hadn’t been a part of his plans was having a girlfriend who wasn’t exclusively a slut for him and him alone. He’d told you to choose between him and your dirty little hobby, but to his surprise, you hadn’t even hesitated when you didn’t choose him.

A low sigh then puffed from his lungs, “fine.”

Heatedly ripping your arm free, you echoed, “fine,” before turning on your heel and exiting the kitchen.

Luckily, your search didn’t drag on too much further before you stumbled upon your celebrated friend.

“There you are!” you exclaimed, your voice ushering Curtis’ head to twist in your direction, his glance shifting from the pool table before him.

“Baby!” he swiftly threw open his inked arms and pulled you close, “hey!”

Hearing the heavy balls clank around on the table, you asked, “are you in the middle of a game or could I steal you away for a sec?”

“Nah, not this round,” he withdrew only ever so slightly, letting one of his arms stay draped over your shoulders, “what do you need?”

Pulling him with you in the direction of the wide staircase, you smirked, “I just have a present to give you…”

“Another one?” he blinked as you dragged him up the steps.

“Well, you deserve the world, so yes, you get another one this year,” you offered him a warm smile.

“Man,” he exhaled as you reached the upper level, “happy birthday to me,” a smirk spread across his features as he willingly let you push him into one of the rooms.

It was a study room filled with long communal desks, tall bookcases and velvet armchairs. It was also, thankfully, vacant of any other partygoers.

“Happy birthday, Curtis,” you didn’t waste any time, the door barely managed to slam behind you, before you yanked him in for a kiss.

It took him a second before he caught up with your sudden actions, but as soon as he did, a gentle giggle rumbled from his intoxicated form and vibrated against your lips as he enveloped his long arms around your frame.

Feet shuffling, your roommate soon bumped into one of the tables, lending him to half sit on it as you let your touch rake down his figure. Even with the swift and determined pace your desperation drove you to have, it still didn’t take that long for Curtis to be on the same page as you, and when your palm fluttered down to cup him through his pants, the tent twitched beneath your touch.

At first, when you then withdrew from the kiss, Curtis instinctively followed your disappearing lips till he noticed your knees buckling as you sank down onto the floor.

“This is so much better than losing at pool,” he gazed down at you between his thighs, nearly hypnotised as you tugged at his zipper.

“I’d sure hope so,” you nearly scoffed as you freed him of his binds, not hesitating to lean in and swipe your tongue silkily against the very tip of him as soon as you had the chance, “although, you know I never mind being a consolation prize.”

“Consolation prize?” his tone filtered through a soft groan as your fist enclosed around his base, twisting slightly as it jerked up to graze your mouth, “that’s not what you were last week.”

“Yeah, but that was different,” your giggle vibrated against him, “it’s okay, baby. Maybe next time we play at home you’ll get to win and show the others who’s boss,” you purred before your lips enveloped fully around his fat girth.

When spit and slobber soon bubbled out and dripped down onto your chest from your efforts, you got back up to your feet. As you let the back of your palm wipe a bit of the mess from your chin, you twisted your frame around and let your spine melt back against this broad chest.

As you felt Curtis’ fingers dig into your dress and hike it up, you rolled your hips back against him, nearly dizzy with want. Gliding a hand down between your thighs, you captured the sodden material, utterly ruined and clinging to your core, before you yanked it to the side, the leaky mess not yet ready to let go of the panties and spiderwebbing to where you pulled it to the side.

Reaching around, your grip captured his cock once again as you tilted him to teasingly brush through your folds, your activities from earlier made it almost pathetic how sloppy you got him in a matter of seconds.

As his lips pressed to your cheek in a hot kiss, you glanced over your shoulder to catch his eye and take in his reaction.

You didn’t warn him, nor say anything at all. Only a smirk glimmered on your lips as a forewarning before you led him away from the leaky entrance he naturally assumed you’d let him into, and instead arched your back and eased his slicked-up length into somewhere else.

“Oh–, holy shit,” his eyes flickered down to affirm what you were doing before blinking up at you in the assumption that it was a mistake, “baby, you’re–”

“I know,” you smiled at the way his chest heaved at the realisation.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Told you I had another present for you,” your gloating grin softened at the moan that slipped out as you sank down just a little further upon his dick.

His fingers dented both sides of your hips as you slowly let him feel more of you, “oh my god, you’re the fucking best…”

It was shallow at first, gentle as you controlled the pace, though still mind-meltingly intense as you fucked back against him till your knees began to wobble, feeling each and every little detail of his stretch your little ass out.

You felt his hot breath on the side of your face between the lazy pecks he planted there and occasionally veering further south to try and mark your neck up with his bites.

“O-oh, fuck,” you whimpered when one of his inked arms snaked around to your front and stretched down to rub your clit, swollen and throbbing between the pads of his rough fingers.

Since you’d backed away from the edge not too long before, its overwhelming return was swift and quickly rendered you a shivering mess in his arms as your rhythm came to a rest and the tight circles he drew over your puffy pearl pushed you into insanity.

Eyes still shut as you were panting for breath, you felt Curtis pluck up your chin and tilt it so that his lips could seize yours.

Though the blissful pause didn’t last very long before he manoeuvred you around, manhandling you into a new configuration, though all the while never slipping his cock out.

His palm was heavy against your back as he whirled you around and bent you over the table. Cheek smooshed against the smooth wooden surface, the thunderous snap his hips then offered caused the desk to rattle beneath you.

However, just as you sensed him begin to lose himself, burying his cock so deep inside of you that it caused you to see stars, the creaking sound of the door to the study swinging open sliced through the lewd harmonies already filling the room.

Even though you couldn’t really glance over your shoulder to see who it was that entered, the recognisable voices that then found your ears calmed your worries about why Curtis’ pace for some reason hadn’t slowed down in the slightest.

“No, I’m not kidding, that’s really what–, oh,” Bucky’s sentence paused as soon he spotted you, “hello you two.”

You attempted to tilt your head against the table as the last of your roommates came into view, shut the door behind them and stepped closer.

As you reached out a wobbly hand to grasp Steve’s, he sweetly caught it in his and chuckled at your cock drunk visage, “hey.”

“Hmm–, hi…” you attempted to greet them, Bucky swiftly bending down to briefly be at your height, letting his fingers brush some of your hair out of your face as Curtis’ efforts jolted your frame against the table at every feverish thrust.

“Was wondering where you guys were,” Steve held onto your hand a little longer as his glance met the blissful gaze of the man who was balls deep inside of you, “I thought she already gave you her little present.”

“You knew?” Curtis tilted his chin, to which you tried to explain with a mumble, though one of your roommates didn’t hesitate to playfully ask you to clarify.

“I’m sorry what was that? You’re being too much of whore right now for me to understand you,” Bucky pressed a peck to your brow before straightening back up, “look, I would have totally told you man, but she threatened us not to ruin the surprise.”

“Yeah, said that if you didn’t get to take a dip first, then none of us ever would,” Steve added.

“Aw,” you felt Curtis kneed your bottom as he slammed into you, “you’d really have done that?”

“I did say you deserve the world, so yeah,” you managed to squeak.

“It’s so cute how sappy birthdays make you,” Bucky smirked, “such a shame not one of us even hesitates to exploit it.”

As one hand stayed glued to the curve of your ass, his thumb hooked in your underwear to grant not only him but the rest a perfect view of just how well you took him, Curtis’ other hand then stretched out to grasp the half-empty beer that Steve handed him, briefly taking a swig before handing it back.

“Yeah, she really is just such a good little girl, aren’t you?” Steve found a seat on one of the nearby chairs.

“Mhm…” you barely caught sight of how both of them palmed themselves for an ounce of relief.

Sitting down as well, Bucky squinted cockily back at you as your hazy eyes briefly caught his, “what was that, sweetheart?”

“I’m a–,” you blubbered as Curtis’ cock stretched you so wide that you even felt it press against the sweet spots in your throbbing pussy, “I’m a g-good girl–”

“Yes, you are, baby, that’s right,” Curtis chuckled warmly behind you before offering your ass a swift slap, “the fucking best.”

“Oh, oh! She’s so close to cumming, I can see it!” Bucky exclaimed in an almost mocking tone as your eyes began to roll, “just look at that face,” he nearly jumped to get closer, “so fucking pretty.”

“Come on, Y/n,” Steve leaned back in his seat and squeezed his hard-on as he stared at your fucked out form, “give us a good show. Make it good for the birthday boy.”

Although, unfortunately, you were already too far gone by then to take any of their lewd comments into account as you tumbled over the edge, floating in the sea of your cheering roommates as a soundtrack.

After your friend had emptied himself into your haven, he simply slid your panties back into place so that his cum could leak out of you for the rest of the party and ruin your sheer underwear completely, perhaps even give up entirely and run down your shaky legs for all to see.

Bending down to smother you back to life with kisses, you also felt Curtis’ arms tangle around you as he hugged you and slowly lifted you off of the table.

“You wanna go down and dance?” his low timbre tickled the shell of your ear.

“Just give me a second,” you breathed through your hazy smile as you fought to blink your eyes back open, “my legs will first have to start working again. Maybe you could take over the music for a second and queue up something slow,” you light-heartedly suggested with an airy chuckle.

“Don’t you worry, baby,” Bucky smirked from across the table, “we’ll help keep you upright.”

#lea’s writing #sugar and spice au #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #curtis everett smut #chris evans smut #sebastian stan smut #andy barber smut #ransom drysdale smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett au #steve rogers series #bucky barnes series #chris evans x reader

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