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humanjarvis · 3 months ago

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caught in a lie

synopsis: when you ignore caleb’s calls, he catches you trying to run from the consequences. you make a false promise to appease his anger, not expecting your lie to unravel. but almost immediately, it does.

tags: based loosely on caleb's "hidden waves" memory, porn with plot, manipulative!caleb x manipulative!reader, brat!reader, mean(ish) dom!caleb, caleb makes out with your cunt for an hour, reader cries, belly bulge, 3 brother mentions but they’re done ironically/out of spite, humiliation, semi-public sex (caleb makes you call and cancel plans with that friend while he fucks you), lines lifted directly from hidden waves in bold pairing: caleb x fem!reader word count: 3.9k

a/n: love the scene this is based on bc it reminds me of my favorite book from the wattpad era in 300 BC. also this is my first time writing full-on smut and omfg i don't know how people write like 10k of it u guys are wizards. but the response to this will determine how explicitly i write going forward, no pressure

As the Skyhaven nightscape twinkles around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something.

You’d had a great night: Simone had invited you to a cute café, the owners had given you a free muffin, and the raging storm from this afternoon had dwindled into a drizzle. But still, a sense of foreboding loomed over you, threatening to taint the precious memories you’d made tonight.

“...And next week we can go to this new bar downtown! I heard they have the best drinks, and there’s even a puppy mascot they let walk around and play with guests. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Yeah, sure,” you agree absently, Simone’s words going in one ear and out the other. “I’ll be there.”

As you walk farther down the sidewalk, the vibrant city atmosphere melts away your worries. People of all ages were out splashing in leftover puddles, trying new food stalls, and window shopping in the strip of stores that lit your path. Gradually, you give up on trying to place your unease, surrendering fully to the comfort of the cool night air.

“Hey!” you exclaim, an idea popping into your head. “Do you want to find a photobooth and take some pictures? I want something to remember tonight by.”

“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” Simone responds. “There should be one not too far from here. I went with my brother a few months back! It was really fun.”

At her words, you stop in your tracks. Her enthusiasm is no match for the dread building in your chest.

Caleb.

Caleb who’d told you to text him when you got to the café, when you were about to leave, and when you were almost home.

Caleb was what—or who—you were forgetting.

Slowly, you reach your hand into your purse until you feel your phone, digging it out and staring as if it were a venomous animal. Taking a deep breath, you tap the screen awake and immediately lose the air you’d just inhaled.

7 Unread messages

4 Missed calls

3 New voicemails

Fuck.

“Uh, actually,” you start, chucking the device back into your bag, “I just realized I didn’t bring a brush! There’s no way I can take pictures without fixing my hair—it’s like a bird’s nest up there,” you ramble, giggling nervously. “Can we end the night here?”

“O…kay?” Simone says, clearly confused by the sudden shift in your mood. “Yeah, we can go back now. Your hair looks fine, though.”

Thanking the universe for giving you such an agreeable friend, you walk back to her car, the quickness of your usually unhurried steps betraying your agitation.

He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, you think.

As the familiar outline of Simone’s car comes into view, she turns to face you. “Do you want a ride to the train station? I told my girlfriend I’d be home at 1:30—I have another hour.”

“Wait!” you cry, throwing your hands out in front of you. She looks at you as if the intensity in your voice is unnecessary. Which is true, because she’s standing a foot away. Quieter this time, you ask, “Would it be okay if I spent the night at your place? Just this once, I promise.”

“...If you really need to,” she agrees warily. “As long as you don’t mind cat hair.”

When you reach her car, Simone gestures for you to wait as she walks around to the passenger’s side. “I just need to clean up real quick. The granola bar wrappers build up when you’re constantly called in early for emergencies.”

But when Simone pulls on the door handle, it doesn’t open. “Weird,” she mutters, wiping raindrops onto her jeans. “I swear I unlocked it.”

She clicks a button on her keys and tries again. Inexplicably, the door still doesn’t budge. “It’s like some force is holding it shut or something,” she says. At that, an alarm sounds in the back of your mind. But before it can reach your consciousness, she continues. “Well, I have a locksmith on speed dial anyway—I’m always losing my keys. But before I call, seriously, are you ok? The way you asked me to stay over….Is there something scary waiting for you at home? Why do you look so worried?”

"It’s probably because I’m home,” the all-too-familiar voice rings out behind you.

In an instant, your entire body goes rigid. Your now-pounding heart screams at you to run, but you can’t obey without making a scene in front of your friend.

Plastering a smile on your face, you turn around slowly, as if the longer you took to face him, the more likely he’d be to disappear.

You had no such luck. Towering over you, umbrella in hand, was Caleb, his normally expressive face a wall of stone.

Despite his obvious anger, he steps forward to shield you from the downpour and you refrain from taking a step back—against your better judgment.

“Caleb!” you remark, your voice shrill with unease. “What a surprise!”

Ignoring your greeting, Caleb turns his attention to Simone. “Skyhaven isn’t very safe tonight,” he says coolly. “You’d better get home.”

The finality in his words makes it clear: you won’t be joining her.

“Um, sure,” Simone trails off, wary eyes searching yours. “Will you be alright?”

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Though your words don’t seem to convince her, Caleb’s penetrating glare does. She quickly walks to the driver’s side and effortlessly pops the door open—surprise, surprise—before jumping in. Giving you one last look, your only chance at salvation drives into the night.

The ride back to Caleb’s house is silent. You scoot as close as you can to the window beside you, paying no mind to the intensifying patter of rain against the glass. All that you notice is how he grips the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white.

When you pull into his driveway and exit the car, he walks closely behind you, preventing any more last-minute escape attempts. His imposing presence follows you inside and all the way to his bedroom.

When you both cross the threshold, the air thickens with tension as you stand in silence, unmoving.

“Well, goodnight!” you call when you can’t take it anymore. But before you can take one step, Caleb swings the door shut with his Evol. Huh, you think. Doors must be his speciality tonight.

“Where do you think you could possibly be going after the night you gave me?” he asks, steely voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Listen—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“You ordered coffee three times. Burst out into laughter I could hear from outside six times. And yet, you somehow managed to check your phone zero times.”

“If you’d just given me more time, I was going to—”

“You were going to what? Because here’s what I think would have happened: If I hadn’t picked you up, you would’ve gone to your friend’s place, right? Then, you’d message me with an apology. Oh, throw in a cute emoji as the cherry on top,” he snorts.

“With that done, you’d put your phone away and curl up into a ball to sleep. You wouldn’t even dare to check my response. You’d wait it out and believe I wouldn’t be upset. And once I’m away on a mission or somethin’...you would sneak back into the house and pretend nothing happened. Tell me,” he challenges you. “Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong—not about your habits, at least.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snap. “I thought you said you were ‘done playing games’? You don't have to act so big brother-y all the time.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Caleb’s head rears back, his eyes going wide in incredulity before he scoffs.

Alright, you sigh, time to turn on the waterworks.

Taking a deep breath, you force tears into your eyes. “Caleb,” you begin, “I really didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just having so much fun. S-someone brought their puppy to the café and I got distracted.” The café hadn’t allowed pets, but you needed all the sympathy you could get. You’d have to thank Simone for telling you about that new bar later. “I won’t do it again. I won’t even go out at night anymore—promise.”

As he takes in your pitiful expression, you see Caleb’s resolve start to crack, the twitch in his right eye giving away how much he wants to console you. Maintaining your pout, you internally grin like a Cheshire cat. He could never say no to you. He could never le—

Your phone rings.

You thought you’d turned it off in the car, but your fucking phone rings. Right when you have him where you want him.

The shrill tone sucks the air out of the room, and with it, any hope for your escape.

“Answer it. Speaker.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Visibly shaken, you fish your phone out of your bag and accept the call. “H-hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Simone. I’m calling to check on you—that guy who took you home was kinda scary. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything. Are you okay?”

At the insinuation that he’d ever harm you, Caleb’s face turns thunderous, his jaw clenching so hard you’re afraid it’ll snap.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Thanks for worrying though, that’s really sweet,” you add, your eyes darting up and immediately back down after meeting Caleb’s glower.

“That’s great, I really was worried,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Well, before you hang up, are we still on for same time next week at the bar I mentio—”

You hang up as soon as she reveals your plans, throwing your phone so abruptly it bounces off the chair where your purse sits and onto the carpet. But it was too late. There was no sweet-talking the irate scowl off of Caleb’s face. You’d lied.

Like a deer in headlights, you stand frozen and helpless as Caleb stalks toward you.

“You almost had me,” he chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks between one hand. “And I bet you knew it, too. Remind me to thank Simone for being such a good friend later.”

His grip tightens when you try to respond, and he pulls your face closer to his instead. “I think I’ve had enough of you talking for now. No point in hearing it if you’re just gonna lie to me again.”

With uncanny speed, he lifts you by your legs and tosses you onto the mattress. When you attempt to sit up, hoping to crawl away, he captures both of your wrists in his hand and claims your lips in a bruising kiss.

“Don’t talk.” A kiss. “Don’t move.” Another. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do, and I might not chain you to this bed.” You’re so distracted by his final kiss—the exclamation point—that you barely register when he yanks your loose pants down, baring your cotton panties to him.

When he spots the wet patch spreading through the middle, he moans, shifting to push his nose into your center. The deep inhales he takes seem to calm him down, and his voice loses some of its earlier edge when he murmurs, “Can’t believe you were keepin’ her from me tonight. Look at how much she missed me.”

He demonstrates by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your panties, tasting you as you leak harder under his tongue. The whimper you let out falls on deaf ears as you remember his command: Don’t talk.

Licking a stripe up your clothed folds, Caleb sighs into you in contentment. “Gonna see her in a second,” he breathes. “Just can’t give her too much at once, or she’ll get greedy.”

He’s too far gone, you think, closing your eyes in preparation of what’s to come. But nothing prepares you for the way the seemingly sedated Caleb rips your panties open at the seam, exposing your hot skin to the cool air.

With no hesitation, he plants a long kiss onto your core, his lips smacking against the fat of your outer folds. Covering your skin with a flurry of pecks, he moans into you, his intermittent licks becoming sloppy, appreciative kisses.

Caleb was making out with your cunt like your brain wasn't in the room, kissing it like he hadn’t seen it in years. The sensations and lewd squelches make your arousal unbearable, but when you try to grind into his mouth—to get him to do something more—he pushes your hips into the mattress.

“Don’t interrupt us,” he mumbles, lips still latched onto your unspread cunt. Heat rushing to your cheeks, you flop your head back down, defeated as the man ignores you to have his heartfelt reunion with your core.

An agonizing few minutes later, you feel him press a last hard kiss against your skin before finally spreading your soaked folds. “Can’t believe you ever thought you could hide from me,” he growls, eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you you can’t. Make you never want to again.”

Slowly, he licks up and down your wetness, teasing his tongue around your entrance. You try to relax during his ministrations, knowing he won’t give you what you want this early, but he catches you off guard when he buries his tongue into your weeping, sputtering hole.

A strangled moan escapes you as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting, turning, and circling himself inside you.

One pulse has your walls flexing with desperation, and Caleb pulls back slightly when he feels you tighten around him. “Look at that, I think she’s kissin’ me back,” he coos, a string of his saliva refusing to part from your quivering cunt.

Spurred on by the whine you give him, he flashes you a wicked grin before diving back in, plunging his tongue in and out at a punishing pace.

All the while, he studiously avoids where you need him most, licking and kissing everywhere but your twitching clit—neglecting it like you did him earlier in the night.

Suddenly, he lifts his head up, flashing you a quick smirk. “You know,” he starts, licking his glistening lips. “When you were givin’ me all those crocodile tears and cryin’ about puppies earlier, you never did say sorry for trying to run. How about now, hmm?” he asks, pressing a wet kiss to your center. “You sorry?”

You pant out an incoherent moan, and he nips at your clit—the first time he’s touched it all night. Ignoring your squeal, he gives you another kiss. “I don’t know what that means. Try again.”

You go to speak again, but Caleb suddenly rubs his nose against your clit, your resulting gasp sending your back shooting off the bed. He swiftly slams you back down with his Evol, giving you another nip. “Just two words, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Two words, loud and clear. Want to know you mean it.”

You don’t know what it is—the last strands of your pride clinging on for dear life, your stupor after being toyed with for almost an hour, or pure stubbornness—but you can’t bring yourself to say it. With a whimper, you clamp your mouth shut, staring at the ceiling in rebellion.

“Hmmm,” he hums, looking up at you briefly. Before you can even process it, Caleb covers your clit with his mouth and sucks, simultaneously groaning into you. The combined sensations set your nerves on fire, and you come in his mouth with a prolonged cry.

“I’m sorry!” you wail, the tears in your eyes genuine this time. As Caleb laps up your release, chants of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—oh—I’m sorry,” fall through your lips, your earlier defiance reduced to blubbering submission. “Should’ve checked my phone and called you back, I’m so sorry.”

You’ve apologized ten times over, it feels, but he won’t let up. He suckles you until it aches, and there’s nothing you can do but lie there and sob as his Evol keeps you pinned down. When he’s finally had his fill, he presses a reverent thank-you kiss to your cunt before crawling up your body, nestling in between your thighs.

“Aw, none of that, now,” he coos, wiping under your eyes. “I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for getting distracted, baby.” Still crying, you nod frantically, leaning into his gentle touch. “But if you ever run from me again, whoever you’re with won’t like what happens when I catch you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead before plunging into you.

Though his pace is relentless, your walls draw him in, his earlier date with your cunt letting you take his thick length with ease.

When the pressure builds and you shy away from his brutal thrusts, he turns your chin toward him, pressing an ironically chaste kiss to your mouth. “No running, remember?”

As you hurtle toward your release, he leans close, kissing you briefly before speaking into your lips. “The next time you wanna ignore me—next time you wanna hide from me and lie to me sayin’ you’ll be good from now on—I want you to think of this, to think of me right here,” he murmurs, palming his cock through your belly. You squeal at the foreign feeling, but he only adds more force, and you think you’re about to pass out.

“My baby,” he chides. “Loves to act out but she can’t handle the consequences.” While he speaks, he folds your left leg up, pushing it to your chest so he can penetrate you deeper.

“Please, Caleb!” you beg, the new angle making stars float across your vision. As your body rocks with the force of his strokes, you cry, “I said I was sorry!”

“Mm, you did,” he nods, absorbing a tear on your cheek with a kiss. “But I don’t think you really are. Not yet.”

Without warning, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach before sliding back in. Resuming his thrusts, he uses his Evol to pick your forgotten phone up off the floor. “Call her back. Speaker,” he orders.

At first, you're flustered into hesitation, but as he holds the phone ahead of you and taps through your history to do it himself, you pull yourself together. “Wait,” you wail. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

You do it.

When Simone picks up, Caleb shows you mercy by decreasing his pace so the sound of slick skin colliding doesn’t travel through the phone.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up? Is it about earlier? …Did something happen?” she asks in concern.

Frantically, you twist your head to look up at Caleb, not knowing what to say.

Leisurely, he folds forward over you, his chest flush with your spine so he can whisper in your ear. Throughout his dramatics, your time to respond without raising suspicion wanes, and you grow more desperate by the second.

“Hi Simone,” Caleb finally whispers, pressing kisses to your ear in time with his languid strokes.

“H-hi Simone,” you repeat louder, a slight tremble in your voice.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for checking in. That guy, the one from earlier—he can be so mean sometimes,” Caleb murmurs, pouting his lips in ridicule.

“I just wanted…wanted to say thanks again for checking in. The guy from earlier—hah—can be so mean sometimes,” you echo, breathless from the impact of Caleb’s hips rocking into yours.

“Can we reschedule our plans for next week? My big brother’s,” he emphasizes, mocking your earlier jab with two deep thrusts, “coming home, and he really misses me.” As he feeds you lines, the taunts in his words break through the softness of his whispers.

As softly as you dare to, you whimper for him, hoping it’s enough for him to end his torture.

But as the phone screen goes black from inactivity, you see his smirking reflection looming over your humiliated one. The only way out is by appeasing him.

“C-can we reschedule our plans for next week? My…my friend—”

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Caleb lifts off of you slightly, landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“Y/N? What was that noise? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you all but moan as he bites your neck, reprimanding you further for breaking his script.

“My friend is visiting next week, and he really misses me,” you finish, waiting with bated breath for her—and Caleb’s—reactions.

“Oh…sure, Y/N. That’s fine with me. That’s a lot better than I was expecting, you sounded like you were in trouble for a second.” Caleb smirks against your ear. “Just let me know when you want to reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” you breathe as Caleb’s thrusts return to a faster pace. “I-I gotta go, I’ll see you later!” you rush, almost squealing as you end the call.

For the nth time that night, you want to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you just did that,” you whine, your voice mixing with the renewed slaps of skin on skin.

Chuckling, Caleb lifts off of you, his sudden absence from your cunt making you shudder. In an instant, he flips you over so you’re face-to-face before entering you again.

“Technically, you just did that,” he smirks, his thrusts now lazy and sporadic. “I don’t remember pressing ‘call.’” His matter-of-fact tone is teasing, but you knew that if you hadn’t canceled on Simone, he’d have made good on his earlier threat. He always does.

As you open your mouth to retort, Caleb’s face grows serious, and all your neurons responsible for making witty comebacks seem to atrophy at once.

Caleb leans down, light bites on your throat punctuating his confession. “I can’t stop at wanting you not to run from me anymore. I want you to stay with me. To choose to, for as long as we live, for the next hundred years.”

“But what if…” you trail off, but he understands what you’d been implying.

At that, his eyes darken. Rutting into you with renewed fervor, he grasps your chin tightly, holding you captive in his gaze. “You’ll be around for however many years I’m alive and kicking,” he growls. And you believe him.

Nerves alight, mind numb, and core throbbing from your impending climax, you nod as much as his iron grip allows you to. “I’ll stay,” you whisper, kissing his thumb near your lip. “Wanna stay—with you.”

Letting out a strangled huff, Caleb surges forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. He bites your bottom lip as he presses down on your stomach once again, and you careen over the edge, feeling the hot spurts of his release intensify the flood inside your cunt.

With a shuttering groan, Caleb collapses to your left, immediately closing the space between you with a hug. You stay like that for a while, your sore body curled into his arms as you face each other on the bed.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, rubbing circles into your hip. “I know it was a bit much.”

“Forgive you,” you mumble into his chest. “Felt good.”

He chuckles, tapping your nose twice. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Or else I’ll want to keep testing your limits.”

When you fall asleep in his warm embrace, Caleb looks down at you intently, trying to brand the visual into any part of his commandeered mind that’d take it. Daring to disrupt the image, he gently untangles your bodies, lifting you before laying you back down on top of him.

At peace for the first time that night, Caleb looks out the window, smiling to himself. The rain has stopped.

#iris writes #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #caleb x reader #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #lads #lads x reader #caleb smut #lads smut

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coconutdays · 1 month ago

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sex, money, feelings dont die

s. you come back home after spending a year away from your friends, suguru geto among them. and you think you've gotten over your suppressed feelings for him, you think

w.c. 11.2k

w. fem! reader, kickboxer/business student!geto! x reader , mutual pining! friends to lovers! fluff!, smut! virginity loss! (but it's not that big of a deal, you'll see why) masturbation!

a/n: ummmmmm I thought about this while watching a suguru edit. this is a little slowburn, but not painful I think idk I stayed up to finish this. will proofread later I need sleep. mwah hope you like.

you are beat up the first morning you wake up in your home after spending a year abroad.

your head is pounding, the light is agonizing to stare into, and your back is tense after spending the last 24 hours running around with the fattest luggage on earth, sleeping on stiff airport lounge seats, and sleeping on the stiff plane seats, or at least trying to.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

fuck's sake

"let me sleep, let me sleep, let me sleep." you groan painfully into your bed, body short circuiting on the jet lag and reminiscing on the peaceful sleep you were just having.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

"oh my-"

knock-knock

your head whirs up and looks towards where the door to your apartment would be outside of your room. and you hear a faint, familiar voice calling out your name cheekily.

exhausted, you get up and out of bed to open the door.

"as much as I missed you guys, I just traveled across the world and my body is still recovering..."you groan, walking to your couch and flopping onto it, eyes still a bit puffy.

"my body too would also miss the crisp baguettes and wine for breakfasts," gojo slyly comments as he slides into your apartment with one step and plops into your--small--beanbag, his legs poke out comically while he inhabits the light pink ball of foam.

a light whiff of cigarette smoke and cherries inhabit your room too when shoko throws a warm? bag on your back and picks up your legs so she can sit underneath them.

"I told him you wouldn't want people at your door this early." she sighed aloofly.

"nothing a breakfast bagel can't fix." gojo snickers

you finally open your eyes and sit straight up, digging into the brown paper bag that was once on your back

"or two." he adds, watching with a smirk as you take a hearty bite out of the first bagel

when you gulp it down and clear your throat, you point a finger at him then to your suitcase in the corner of the room, "there are four boxes of pierre herme macaroons in there with your name written all over them."

"aw you thought about me."

"yeah I really do," you speak gruffly between heavenly bites, "paris doesn't make this shit."

"there's no bagels in Paris?" shoko tilts her head, a blank look in her eyes

"shut up, you know what I mean." you almost moan, faintly rolling your eyes back in pure bliss before forming a realizing thought and turning to gojo, "did you come here this early for your macarons gojo satoru????"

his smile is blank and so are his eyes, you can tell, even through his stupid glasses.

"eat that second bagel, why don't you, my favorite friend who I've missed so dearly."

right before a slight scowl forms on your face, shoko interjects.

"he did cry when nobody else wanted to drink the nth pornstar martini with him at the function the other day."

"hey!"

you giggle a little and feel your sleepiness and grumpy mood fading away. (thank you gojo's breakfast bagels and shoko's disrespect)

"no need to worry anymore babygirl, daddy's home." you smile, lazily hugging the armrest of your couch

gojo huffs and puts a hand close to your face, "I saw your stories unfaithful slut, those cheese fiends were matching your freak, with espresso martinis of all things."

"but did I ever drink a pornstar martini without you?" you poke back, slapping his hand away

you can tell gojo is thinking and has been left speechless, but just as much as he's a victim to shoko, so are you.

"that she posteddddd."

"you guys are not allowed to wake me up this early and bully me, either of you," you state as you jump up and address the both of them before heading to your fridge to serve yourself some water.

"anyways, where's suguru?"

"training." shoko answers airily as her head lolls onto the armrest.

"he's been super focused lately right? I think he deactivated his instagram like the first month of me being in France."

you remember feeling bummed out every time you posted a pretty picture and never saw him in your views.

"that's an understatement," satoru scoffed snarkily, "I do not understand such a dedication to kickboxing when he's deadset on business."

"can't a guy have hobbies?" shoko questions, not at all seemingly bothered by Geto's dedication to sport such as satoru is.

"you guys want coffee?" you ask, about to turn your back to turn on ur espresso machine.

"yes," gojo says before adding a quick, "but from the cafe two blocks from here."

eyes squinted, you turn again and lean against your kitchen countertop, "I literally have a coffee machine."

"you drink that pretentious small espresso shot crap, weirdo, I don't want that"

"okay but I can just pour milk for yours?"

"I doubt you can make an iced vanilla biscoff latte here." he scoffs

"satoruuuuuu~" you whine, exhaling as you stare up at your ceiling, "I have to wash my face and get ready! I wasn't mentally prepared for that."

"I'll buy you a pistachio matcha latte," he grins, toothy and sharp, "with that creamy oatmilk you like that's an extra 2 dollars."

"I missed you and your bank account so, so much," you say whole heartedly, sending him quick air kiss of appreciation with your middle and index finger as you trot into your bathroom to start getting ready.

on the walk to the cafe, you fight and try to suppress the wondering your conscious has for suguru geto.

you're friends, have been since your freshman year of college, and that's all you have been. there's always been a feeling there in regards to him, but you've never touched on it for more than you've thought about it (repeatedly.) you just couldn't bring yourself to break that peaceful friendship or to even think about crossing it.

sure you noticed the day he deactivated his socials.

sure you like wearing his hoodie/jackets and acting like nothing of it.

but it's not like you took up the scholarship offer in Paris because maybe your favorite city in the world could distract you from hoping he'd ever flirt with you.

it did

"oh is that the rock climber?" shoko asks as she peers over your shoulder and onto your phone.

"indeed it is," you mutter cheekily as you answer the French fling's text, "he thought I was leaving tomorrow instead of yesterday, lmao"

"no goodbye sex?"

"fingering me is hardly sex," you look at her with a side eye

"woah, couldn't get over the 50/50 thing after all huh?"

"never," you sighed, putting your phone back in your pocket, "the least he could do was service me a little with a few orgasms after I had to pay for my own drinks."

"so who did you fuck?" satoru interjected, visibly curious as he stood in line with you guys and simultaneously read the coffee menu for any new sugary drinks

"nobody," you sighed, "didn't feel like anyone was worthy losing my card to."

but all this and here you are, shoving thoughts of him to the back of your mind. it's all become so natural that compressing any thought of geto isn't an overthought process anymore. you've forced yourself to become near careless about him, silencing the voice that cares every minute of every day. you don't know if you're in love with him or containing a small crush on him, that's how scared you are.

"understandable," satoru reasons, whilst picking his phone out of his pocket to read something.

"hey, look at that, haibara wants us all to come for drinks at his place tonight," blue eyes sparkle at you from beneath his glasses that he's purposely let slide downwards, "you know he makes the best lychee and passionfruit martinis."

"and dirty martinis." shoko pipes in

both you and gojo stare at her in slight disgust before he returns to giving you his puppy face.

"as long as there's a ride home involved, I hate sleeping at other people's places."

satoru stands straight up in glee and claps his fingers together, "great! don't worry about that, suguru doesn't drink anymore because of how uptight he's been lately."

the whole day becomes hang out with satoru and shoko day after that. you can't exactly go home by the time you're done with your matcha latte and your stomach starts rumbling for lunch, especially when trust fund baby satoru offers to pay for lunch. then he drags you both into a museum he's been wanting to see, and suddenly it's nearing sundown and it's time for dinner.

"let's go buy pizzas for haibara!" satoru exclaims with a pep in his step as he leads the way for you and shoko to follow after him.

when you get to haibara's apartment, everyone's already there.

various chimes of your name are said as you begin to greet everyone after being away for so long.

utahime hugs you particularly tight and fusses over you, "thank god you're back, you look so beautiful, shoko's too careless to have conversations with sometimes."

fearing your friend would be offended, your mouth open and closes, unable to figure out what to say until you turn to look at her sleazed on the couch and already lighting a cig.

"it's true," she shrugs

"I'm glad to see you too hime." you smile, embracing her in the hug again.

you hear a familiar voice speak when you let go of the embrace

"there wasn't really anything for me to wear haibara, had to settle for this shirt."

geto stands at the door to haibara's bedroom, one hand up and holding onto the frame as he calmly peers down at his shirt and then to the owner of it.

why was he wearing haibara's shirt? and why does it look so...

and suddenly he's looking at you, eyes softening just a bit as he greets you by your name and starts to walk towards you.

you'd imagined, hoped seeing him again would warrant more excitement from him, but no he's still the same calm and collected guy he's always been.

"suguru" you smile, ignoring the way your heart races at the side hug he gives you

well, his body isn't the same. god, how often has he been training? you didn't know his arms could be that veiny.

"satoru texted me that you've been with him and shoko all day." he starts, lips only slightly, minisculely turned upwards as a way of being polite towards your presence.

"since eight in the morning." you sigh, looking over at the freakishly tall giant already breaking into one of the many pizza boxes he bought.

"he missed you." suguru looks at his best friend too, making a face of disgust for a moment when satoru finishes a pizza in two bites.

"I missed him too," you breathe, smiling a little, "wallet or no wallet."

that makes suguru laugh and you're so thankful tails evolutioned off of humans or else you'd have a hard time controlling the urge to wag it back and forth at the reward that was making geto suguru laugh.

"I missed you." he says once his laugh falters away

"me too." you respond, fighting the awkward and terrible pit in your stomach

did he really miss you? miss you? how much did that mean for him?

it doesn't seem like a lot because he gives you a small grin before walking towards shoko and striking up a conversation with her. and gojo hithers you to him from across the room to start drinking your first martini of the night.

you've forgotten how drunk you get with gojo.

your vision is tunneled and you dont know what time it is or what is even what.

"oh brother." you groan, stabilizing yourself on the kitchen countertop. you had gotten up from being sprawled on gojo's back on the floor because you wanted a slice of pizza and the journey seemed quite treacherous now. so far, yet so close. you just had to open that pizza box.

until a hand made its way into your vision, opening the box, getting a slice, and offering it up to you. its a pretty hand, a silver ring on the index finger, veins running up it and onto the arms

of suguru

he's smiling fondly at you

"hungry?" he asks in amusement

"yes, thank you." you gulp, otherwise unable to show how flustered you are due to the immense alcohol in your system and insatiable hunger.

once you take the slice from him, geto begins to slide a chair out and helps you land on it considering it was a little high.

he sits across from you on the kitchen island.

"parmesan?" he has the bottle in hand, jeering it to you

"mhm" is all you can say through a muffled mouth and take the parmesan bottle for yourself.

"is this anything like the pizza over there?" he asks again in amusement

"no," you shake your head gruffly, almost groaning from how wonderful the taste is on your inebriated mouth, "but I can appreciate this right now."

you feel as if you've finished your pizza far too soon, knowing that the part of you that's embarrassed is subdued and screaming that you've been far unladylike in front of suguru, who eyed satoru so disapprovingly when he did it.

suddenly,

"you have some..." suguru leans over just a smidge and brushes your cheek with his thumb, "...parmesan dust."

"oh," you try to keep your jaw closed amid the surprise of his actions, "thank you."

"you want another slice?" he nudges his head in the direction of the box next to him, eyes innocently waiting for a response.

he sees you open and close your mouth again, hesitant on a response before he decides for you and gets you another slice.

"you need something else in your stomach to keep the martinis some company." he smiles a little and motions for you to look at the plastered satoru on the floor, "he's done already, so don't worry."

"thank you." you almost pout as an appreciation to his mercy and figure you should ask what was on your mind earlier, after chewing and swallowing a bite gracefully. you were going to be more conscious of this second slice.

"why are you wearing one of haibara's shirts by the way?"

"Oh," his eyebrows only raise a little and he looks down at the extra tight black shirt, "he was trying to imitate those street vendors that make slushies out of regular soda before you three got here."

"and haibara being him, I figure somewhere along the lines it erupted all over you." you giggled a little, imagining the mess

"that you are correct." geto smizes. he then looks around to the various bodies thrown across the room and zones in onto the floor.

"are you ready to go now satoru?" he asks, one brow quirked up, wondering if his best friend heard him or not.

you turn a little to look at him too and he only turns his face so that his cheek is resting against the floor.

"I don't think I'm even ready to get up," he grumbles, "you guys can go without me, I'm fine right here for the night."

feeling alert already at the idea of being alone with geto, you ask satoru if he's sure

"your back is going to hurt a lot in the morning Toru." you plead internally

"don'ttttttt careeee." he burbles

you're about to open your mouth to urge him again, but suguru gets up and nudges your arm lightly, keys already in hand, "don't worry about satoru, he doesn't have anything important tomorrow anyways."

then his hand is reached out towards you, probably to help stabilize you as you get off the ridiculously tall chair.

hazily, you take it and start to follow him out of the apartment and to the parking lot

his back looks really good in that shirt, you note. every muscle is carefully outlined, every movement of his being emphasized.

"hey," he turns his head over his shoulder to peer down at you, "why're you back there."

suguru then reaches a hand behind your back lightly and motions you to walk in front of him.

"oh, my bad," you murmur, having been snapped back into reality.

the rest of the walk to his car is quiet. and when you get there, suguru's leading you to the passenger seat, opening the door for you, and leaning in to buckle you in without even asking if you could do it.

when he starts the car, you see the time on his front screen.

3:43

"oh my god," you gape at the time, then look at geto while he starts to back out.

one hand on the back of your seat.

"hm?"

and that's all it takes for you to resume what you were going to originally say, finding all the scattered gibberish in your brain to form and communicate the thought.

"weren't you telling utahime that you had to get up early for training? it's so late..." you point at the time

"I do," he shrugged, eyes on the emerging road

"I'm sorry," you lightly pout in guilt

suguru gives you a quick once over and he grins so faintly, "I don't mind."

"let me send you money for a coffee or something." you turn in your seat to look at him pleadingly, eyes scanning him for any hint of resentment

he laughs

"I'm flattered," he smirks, amusement lingering in his tone, "but I'm not taking your money."

you slump in your seat at the rejected offer before you remember something and quirk up in your seat a little

"at least let me give you the gift I got you when we get to my place?"

"sounds like the perfect exchange." he nods

when you wake up, its 1 p.m. and you're surprised you slept through the many alarms on your phone.

you remember everything from the night before and you're not hungover, thank god.

you reminisce on the moments you shared with suguru, even the ones you're embarrassed about.

"arghhh why did I force him to walk all the way up for his gift," you groan into your pillow, "wasted like fifteen more minutes of his time."

a small shriek leaves you as you headbutt yourself on the bed, "why did I do that."

its been about a week and a half since haibara's hang out. which has given you enough time to finally get used to being back home. you reorganized your place to accommodate for all the trinkets and decor you brought from Europe and cleaned out your closet.

you finished everything in time for your hangout with satoru

"Hey Toru." you lean down to give him a quick hug from where he's seated snugly, slurping on a sundae

and suguru

"hey." you breathe, not gulping when he gets up and hugs you to greet you.

when you sit down, you notice your heart is racing and your breathing is just a bit labored

probably the long walk over

"we got you strawberry mochi and a matcha latte," gojo mutters through the straw he's still slurping on, eyes zoned in on particularly nowhere? on the table in front of you all.

never separate this man from his sweets...

"oh thank you satoru." you say appreciatively, happy he thought of you

"thank suguru," he mutters back, "he paid."

your eyes drift to suguru, who smiles unphased, and lifts a hand up to minimize the gesture of paying for you, "satoru knew your order already, I just offered to pay."

"oh," you try not seem too disappointed that he didn't go out of his way to know your order, "well, still, thank you."

"it's no problem." he settled back into his seat comfortably

"didn't offer to pay for my sundae." satoru rolled his eyes

geto's eyes creased a little, as if internally smiling, and said, "didn't you eat out almost a third of my fridge yesterday?"

"whatever," satoru rolled his eyes, "buy me a second sundae then, im already finishing this one up."

"I'm not familiar with anything you've just said. are you feeling light-headed?"

"oh puh-lease," satoru starts to nag, "you can hear me just fine. stop acting like an idiot."

suguru fakes a look of confusion and concern, which makes satoru bolt up out of his seat and start heading towards the door to enter the parlor. and you're pretty sure you hear him say something about taking a bite out of your mochi when you're not looking.

the idiocy makes you giggle a little and you don't notice when suguru turns his head from looking over at a grumpy satoru to you, a slight upturn of his lip at being able to make you laugh.

flash!

after a blinding white light attacks your eyes, you're met with five schoolgirls, all with their phones out.

you'd think they'd be ashamed but?

"you guys are going on my Pinterest!" one giggles

another one is laughing almost as if she's on a sugar rush, very manically, "I hope my boyfriend is as hot as him one day. oh my god. aha aha ahahahahah!"

"you're so so so pretty." a ditsy one with a valley accent deadpans, nearing your face and making immense eye contact, "I know that you guys have the hottest sex."

your jaw drops and you look at suguru in shock, embarrassment out the door at being a coupe and more surprised by the actual words these teenagers are spilling out.

suguru's no better, no other movement on his face except for his raised eyebrows and wide eyes.

the ditsy one speaks again before they start to trail off, "I'm using you as hairspo for my next hair appointment."

and it goes in one ear and out the other because your mind is still stuck on the, 'I know that you guys have the hottest sex.'

what the fuck? what kind of crap was she imagining?

what was she thinking about?

hottest sex?

like flashbacks that never happened, vivid images of you on your knees and suguru drilling into you from behind play in your mind quickly.

he's so big in person and the thought is so palpable when he's next to you...

stop!

you feel your cheeks heating up and a shiver runs up your back.

you try to laugh to brush it all off, "they were probably high or something. or just really really extroverted..."

the tips of suguru's ears are the slightest pink as he finally makes eye contact with you.

"yeah," he breathes, "without a doubt."

"what were those schoolgirls yappin about?" satoru asks, a bit careless, as he plops back into his seat, a new sundae in hand

"nothing."

satoru glares a little at the both of you, his brow quirked up a little, "yeah sure."

you're shopping later at the mall with the both of them, a slight awkwardness between you and suguru that the both of you cover up by only really interacting with satoru and not the other unless satoru was involved in the interaction.

satoru is drowning in what looks like eight bags of clothes when he halts your walking and jeers his head towards the store next to him.

Victoria's Secret

"Didn't you come with us so you could buy new stuff here?"

Yes you had.

But that was before a group of teenagers made you feel awkward about discussing/associating anything nearing sex with suguru now.

"yeah..." you try not to stutter as you start to walk in

god, satoru is so unabashed and careless that he's going to accompany you too. and if satoru goes in, so does suguru. if suguru didn't want to, he would surely have to right now or else satoru would question him.

you know what, maybe suguru isn't overthinking it like you are. surely he isn't clinging on to the idea of sex with you.

yes, exactly.

bracing yourself, you walk into the store, pick up a bag, and ready yourself to start filling it up.

you've forgotten about your awkwardness with suguru after a while of being amazed by all the pretty options in front of you

and satoru, for the most part, is quite mature in this store.

for the most part...

"ha, look at those," he points at a mannequin wearing crotchless panties and at the same panties decorating the table beneath it, "get them."

disgruntled and rolling your eyes, you respond, "yeah sure when I'm getting screwed."

"girls wear lingerie for themselves you know."

"yeah I know," you huff, "and I do. but I can wear crotch on lingerie under my clothes. that's just plain old porn panties for not single people."

"you're such a debbie downer," he groans, "if I were a girl, id wear those with or without out a man."

"well, im a girl and you're not so." you say in a sing song voice as you check out a bra in your hands and toss it into your shopping bag.

"wait where's suguru?" gojo says, having noticed that his best friend's presence was quiet.

and that was all it merely was because suguru was scrolling through his phone, seemingly unphased by the store, paying no attention to what you and satoru were looking at.

"oh." gojo shrugs before he moves on to checking out more underwear with you.

and he spots a particularly cute set of babydoll's that you've grown enamored with, staring at all of them.

"those are very cute," your white-haired friend says

"and very expensive," you whine, having seen the price tag on one of them, "I don't know which one I want to take home."

"hm," satoru whirls around and looks between the mannequin wearing the see through pink one and the see through baby blue one.

"hey suguru." he calls out

suguru looks up from his phone and is slightly confused by where satoru's standing.

satoru has his chin in his hand, "which one do you think would look better on her."

suguru faintly gulps and quickly regains his normal calm confidence, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"whichever one she'd feel the best in." his eyes smile for him

"oh don't be a prude," satoru gags before pestering him again, "really, pick one."

"why don't you pick satoru?"

"because I think both are too pretty." his eyes gleam, staring at both of the babydolls in question

suguru sighs then looks at you, who so happens to already be eyeing him down, eyes wide for a response.

"the pink one." he mutters quickly, eyes immediately darting away.

there's a loud sigh of relief from satoru when suguru finally makes a decision and you pick up the pink one sitting at the table.

"I think that's all for me," you breathe, skimming over the rest of the store quickly.

and before you make your way to the register line, you stop near suguru

"thank you sugu."

it's a Friday night that you've got all yourself the next month following the incident with those girls and suguru.

you've shaved, washed and blow dried your hair, did a thorough skincare routine, and put on the babydoll you bought last month.

you feel hot and have plans...in mind.

you've seen a little bit of stuff on twitter just for a spur

and there you are, sitting on your dildo, cheeks heated as you sit up and down on it.

you're unabashedly thinking about suguru.

truth be told, you haven't been able to get him off your mind since those schoolgirls planted the thought of that hot sex with him.

he's just so big and lean.

god

you remember satoru making you go with him to pester suguru while he worked out, considering his gym was next to his apartment complex and he had agreed to invite you both and shoko for a watch party of the scream movies that day.

he looked mad when he trained on his kickboxing, eyebrows furrowed and eyes dark on whatever he was taking out his strikes on.

you figured he'd make a similar face beating your pussy up.

that same trail of sweat making its way down his spine. thigh veins twitching all the same at the force he'd use on you.

"su-"

knock knock

the blood drains from your face and you immediately feel yourself getting dry

"oh my god, who's here at 10 p.m.?!" you whisper shout to yourself as you scram to put your dildo back in its hiding place and through your night robe on.

you take a breather and check through your door's peephole

a big blue eye meets yourself and zooms out when satoru leans back and reveals that suguru is also with him.

you open the door quickly, slightly angry.

"why are you guys here?"

you keep your eyes on satoru, afraid even looking at suguru would reveal somehow that you'd just been vividly imagining sitting on his dick.

satoru seems impressed as he looks at your very short night robe, thighs out in the open and he shrugs, raising a bag of fast food in his hand, "wanted to hang out with you."

unable to refute his friendly gesture, you move so that the both of them can come in.

"you were ready for bed early," he comments, setting down the food on your kitchen island.

"it's ten p.m. satoru." you sigh, spotting that they didn't get drinks, so you try to find some cups for the Diet Coke in your fridge.

you realize they're in a cupboard.

that you'd have to lean up to

you're about to ask satoru to help you, but he's far too focused in setting out the food for all of you and suguru's just there, standing watching you and satoru, mostly you, in awkward silence.

"um, suguru," you pipe

he fully turns his attention to you. argh, you didn't think having 100% percent of his attention would be so drastic than having 80% of it as opposed to earlier, but it did

"can you get some cups from here?" you point at the cupboard, "I'd get them but uh-"

you look down at your very short nightrobe and exposed skin and suguru's ears turn pink at the tips

"yeah, no problem." he says quickly, moving to open the cupboard and gets out three ceramic pink cups.

you, meanwhile, open your fridge and get the Diet Coke jug you've had chilling, thankful you put it in the top shelf and not the bottom, having avoided the risk of bending to get it.

you sit down next to suguru, unfortunately, since satoru took the single seat across.

"so," you start to pour drinks for all of you, "what were you guys up to before this?"

"nothing," satoru mumbles through a mouthful of fries, "we were supposed to watch t.v. at suguru's place but the internet went out in his building."

one of your brows raises, "and you came to hog my t.v.?"

"no," satoru glares at you a little, "the burger place was right by your place and I wanted to stop by."

"plus," he adds, "I didn't bank on you being ready for bed so early."

then something lights up in his head and he stares at you quizzically, a smirk forming, "were you getting off before we got here? is that why you're all dolled up and dressed for bed like you've got first name dil last name do coming over?"

"ugh," you groan, "gross, satoru!"

"shoko and I went with you to buy that eight inch purple girth monster," he laughs, "you were sooooooo on it."

you roll your eyes and decide to ignore him, taking a bite out of the burger in front of you.

"take it easy on her satoru," suguru swoops in softly to defend you, "I remember how disgruntled you were when I found you with the door open during our time as roommates."

"hey! we agreed to never mention that to anyone else!"

you start to laugh, embarrassment only a tinge less than it was before, thanks to suguru.

although their sudden presence had interrupted your orgasm, you looked forward to the moment in which they would leave.

but satoru somehow, being the annoying giant he is, finds a way to make suguru and him stay the night at your place.

"satoru, I don't think my back can support sharing this couch with you." suguru tries to reason

"oh come onnnnn, we've shared less at frat parties before" satoru chippers, beginning to roll himself into a ball in one of your blankets.

pitifully, you share a look with suguru and hand him a blanket.

"sleep well guys." you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to your room.

your very empty room.

and you can feel your panties dampening again.

no you shouldn't.

you get into your bed and stuff yourself under covers, hoping your body gets the message that it needs to sleep.

it doesn't

so you count sheep.

nope

force your eyes closed and hope it just knocks you out.

nope, you were in that weird limbo of sleep and no sleep.

you don't know how much time has passed but you assume its late enough that both of the boys are asleep, so you shoot up out of your bed and lean over to open your nightstand, flipping your covers off in the process.

the desperation never wore off, your panties were drenched and you didn't even have to play with yourself to spread your lubrication or open yourself up a little.

biting the bullet, you lift a leg up with one arm and use the other to press the head of your dildo inside.

your breathing was extra labored, but that was nothing compared to the moans you'd let out if your friends weren't sleeping in the room next door.

then you start fucking it into yourself slowly, inch by inch, and it feels oh so good. even if it was see through, you pull down the straps of your nightgown and let your tits out, letting the air hit them and put you in a further state of vulnerability.

then in a matters of seconds, you're pounding yourself as hard as you can without making a noise from either lips.

your eyes are rolling back and it's hitting that angle so well that-

the relief washed over you faster than expected, orgasm a little ruined because you wanted to relish in the feeling longer.

so there you are, dildo still inside, one hand over your stomach while you let your breathing go back to normal.

"I needed that anyways." you whisper to yourself, feeling your chest heaving up and down.

knock knock

"you've got to be fucking kidding me." you shriek to yourself in the quietest manner possible as you rapidly stash your dildo away and fix your nightgown back on.

you dash to your door and open it a little, only letting the top of your head and eyes peer through the side considering what you were wearing.

there's suguru, hair down and shirt ridden up just a little, face a little surprised at the way you opened the door

"yes?" you ask, quickly peering at his happy trail

"is it alright if I use the restroom?" he asks, a little sleepy

"yeah," you gulp, "just let me get back in bed so I'm not indecent when you come in."

"alright, just tell me when."

and you leap onto your bed, immediately tugging your cover on top of you.

"you can come in." you say meekly, hoping he can't see how disheveled you are. the moon was especially bright tonight and it always lit up your room nicely during nights like this.

suguru opens the door immediately and smiles at you a little as he walks towards your restroom.

you smile awkwardly back

he pees you assume, because you've barely seen three tiktoks on your phone by the time he comes out.

"did I wake you?" he asks while he approaches you on your bed, taking a seat at the end.

having him so near the spot where you just pummeled yourself to orgasm made you shiver a little in fear.

"no," you almost stutter and put your phone down, "I was struggling to sleep."

"so was I" he laughs a little, "satoru sleeps so selfishly."

and your blabber mouth, stupid fake facade that you aren't affected at all by him speaks up.

"you can sleep with me."

you're both caught by surprise at your offer except only suguru expresses it, his eyebrows have raised innocently

and you cough up another remark, "it's not like you can really see what I'm wearing and you can just turn to the other side."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable-" he's about to get up

and you act so stupidly again

"I don't mind suguru, your body needs good rest with all the strain you put on it." and there you are, flipping the covers open from the other side of your bed and tapping it for him to get into.

hesitantly, he gets up from the end of your bed and walks towards the open spot, "are you sure?"

"yeah," you nod, other hand hidden under the cover and gripping the sheets under you, "we've slept cramped up next to each other on road trips. what's the difference with all this space?"

you both know the difference

but he slowly gets under the covers with you anyways, positioning himself on his back, stiff as a board as he looks up and tries not to look at you, well that's what it looks like and you understand why.

"I'm sorry if I snore." you peep, also staring up at the ceiling

suguru turns to look at you a little, "you snore?"

"I don't know..."you respond, following in his lead and peeking at him from the corner of your eyes, "but I'd be really embarrassed if I did."

"well, I'm sorry if I do too." he gives you a small smile, one of those tight lipped ones, no teeth, just the softness the moment in them.

then your phone suddenly starts ringing loudly.

and you scram to shut it off, putting your phone on night mode

"who was that?" suguru peers at you, neck turned more to look at you now.

you gulp, "some guy from paris. I should block him soon anyways."

"you were seeing each other?"

well you did go out with him various times and continuously stayed lots of nights with him. hell you even showered with him a couple times.

"hardly." you brush off

"shoko would talk about you always spending the night at a Claude's place. didn't you text her that you had to pay for your own uber once?" he said it so smoothly, without a thought

you shrink a little into the bed, "well yeah but I never saw him as something serious and we never sealed the deal. I didn't think you'd know about him..."

"shoko often aired out what you'd be texting her in the moment." he breathed, one arm behind his head as he went back to staring at the ceiling again.

"so you know about how hard I partied and stuff?" you asked, hoping that maybe they showed him all your selfies and outfits, casual and sexy.

"yes." he nodded

he seemed so serious and a hopeful part of you wanted to say he seemed...jealous?

does he think you saw a lot of guys on your nights out? what is he thinking?

"I liked it," you started, making the path for a way to comfort him if that was the case, "but I wasn't a big fan of having guys try to pull me to dance with them. I missed you and satoru being there to stop guys from hogging on me."

his ears perk up a little and he looks at you again, almost as if he's waiting for you to continue, so you do, stupidly but it was at attempt

"I'm just glad I'm back with you guys."

"I'm glad you're back too."

"you guys finally freak it?"

you get a sudden whiplash and wake up to find satoru standing at the end of your bed, one leg propped up on it while he brushes his teeth.

you lean up, making sure to cover yourself with the covers and notice the comfort of suguru's arm leaving your head.

HUH

you're at a distance from him, you would've definitely noticed his body pressed against yours, but he's turned in your direction, one long arm splayed out and oh my god

you had been using it as a pillow.

he starts to wake up too at satoru's sudden intrusion and squints sleepily at him, starting to stretch a little. the covers must've shoved off of him a little because you can see his v-line when he groans.

which reminds you that he must've not recalled/felt you on his arm just now. he probably would've been so awkward.

you calm yourself down enough and go back to looking at satoru.

"oh probably not." satoru, with a mouth full of toothpaste, mumbles without a shame after looking at suguru still being fully clothed and your reaction at sleeping on him

"satoru," your vision and brain is still blurry from waking up, "is that my toothbrush?!"

"no," he borbles offended before walking back into your restroom and beginning to clean his mouth out with water, "I have a go-go bag here."

"since when do you have a go-go bag here? and where the hell did you hide it?"

"since you left me your apartment key to take care of your place before leaving," he's already spit out the last of his toothpaste and is sassily walking back to you and suguru, "and I have it in your closet all the way at the top."

you fall back into your bed, rolling your eyes at his weirdness, "why do you still knock then?"

"I have manners?" he looks at you like you just asked a stupid question

"I found his bag in my laundry room." suguru sighs, running his hands through his face.

"well it's impossible to hide anything in your apartment considering we're the same height." satoru rolls his eyes, "haibara's like 5'10 so he can't see that I have mine at the top cupboard above his stove."

"normal habits follow you satoru," suguru sighs, flipping the covers off his lower half and standing up, "but you outrun it."

"track was my thing in high school." he shrugs

you haven't seen suguru since then. it's been two weeks and you've no sight of him. you were hoping he'd make an appearance at satoru's apartment today, seeing as he was hosting a House of the Dragon watch party.

"oh suguru? he's not coming," satoru shrugs as he plops onto his couch, next to shoko and tugs the bowl of popcorn from her, "he's working on his startup. something about a big client needing something by tomorrow."

then it's been another week, no sight of suguru with anyone at any hangout.

you don't feel that optimistic when haibara and satoru beg the group to show up to the club tonight, with pregaming at satoru's apartment.

you're dressed in a tight little white dress when you show up to satoru's apartment, clinging onto shoko's arm because of how cold it was.

and you feel so happy that you still put 100% of effort into getting ready because there was suguru, seated on one of satoru's couches, watching in amusement as haibara attempts to teach satoru how to make a negroni.

your own excitement blinds you and without thinking, you slip in past everyone and stand in front of him.

"I thought you wouldn't be coming tonight." you look at him in slight marvel, astonished that he finally made an appearance

he makes a face of surprise at you, well you think it's surprise at what you said. you probably came off too strong because his ears turned a little red. what else could it be?

god he was taking a little too long to respond. had he been trying to avoid you? was he-

"it wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to leave your protection solely up to satoru would it?"

and just like that his soothing voice brushes over your entire body

"it would not." you giggle a little when you sit next to him, hoping your perfume reaches him and relishing in the fact that his arm was already hung over the part of the couch you inhabited.

"but what have you been up to? I haven't seen you in a while."

suguru's eyes soften at your curiosity, and unbeknownst to you, his heart swelled at the fact that you noticed his absence.

"I've been finishing up a personal project of mine," he says warmly, "if all goes well, I'll probably come close to affording an apartment like satoru's soon."

affording an apartment like satoru's soon?

that's like

a lot of money

a lot

and why is him getting more money in his bank account making you fawn even harder for him

well, the stability, duh.

but you have to act cool

"are you sure you want to live in the same apartment complex as satoru gojo?" you tease?

"I said like," he shoves your leg a little with his own, "I don't think I would be able to stand living under the same roof as him again."

"well I don't think he could either," you giggle, "he says you're too much of a homebody and always say you have food at home."

suguru makes no attempt to defend himself and shakes his head instead at the complaint from his best friend, "I find it wrong to say I'm guilty when there's nothing guilty about cooking your own meals."

"are you good at cooking? I know you posted on your close friends about some meals here and there, but it's been a while since you deactivated your account."

"I'd like to think I'm good," he pauses, looking at you for a moment before continuing, "I'd make a pasta for you but I don't want to challenge the likes of Italy and France."

"now that just sounds like an excuse to not cook for me," you squint your eyes and scrunch your nose at him playfully

"I make no excuses," suguru drinks from the glass of water in his hand, eyeing you with the same playful aura, "I'll let you try if you want, but you can't make any comparisons."

"deal." you huff a little, reaching your hand out towards him.

"deal." he agrees, setting down his glass to shake your hand.

you don't drink a lot in the pregame

or at the club

something about suguru being there, sober, and able to control every moment makes you want to do the same.

so you're surprised that you're not at all even tipsy when you gently grab his hand and motion for him to dance with you amongst the crowd of your friends and other strangers.

it doesn't really feel awkward.

satoru's dragged you plenty of times to dance with him. haibara's kinda twerked on you a couple of times.

how is this any different?

at least that's how your mind approaches it, unphased by the sensual rnb music and your waist in suguru's hand.

when your arms reach around his neck eventually, you note he smells intoxicating, like amber and leather.

when you've known the club to normally be a place where you cause a ruckus with satoru and haibara, this is quite the opposite.

you didn't know you could feel so grounded

maybe it was the lack of alcohol to spur on the party animal in you, but this was fine. your brain felt woozy enough from breathing in suguru's cologne.

it's only when you feel a tap on your back that you and suguru are interrupted.

suguru juts his jaw for you to look behind and when you turn, there's shoko a lighter and a cigarette in her hands. you and suguru follow her outside for her smoke break, the bare minimum for her protection, a norm.

"how come you haven't been following satoru's pace tonight with the drinking?" she sighs melodically as she puts a cig in her mouth and cusps a hand around it while the other lights it.

"um," you avoid suguru's presence, feeling something that you just can't quite point your finger at, "I think im pmsing, so...I don't want to trigger any cramps with the drinking."

"fair enough." she blows out a puff of smoke as she says that

"and when are you going to ever drink again suguru?" she lets her head fall on her shoulder, lazy eyes looking at him.

"when are you going to stop smoking those?" he asks in return, leaning against the wall behind him and looking at the people in passerby considering this was a busy street during the night.

"soon." she shrugs

you and suguru exchange a look between each other at the response. shoko's been saying that since freshman year.

and your small moment is interrupted when you see a frantic utahime waving her hand, nanami and haibara holding up a very pale satoru between them as they walk out of the club and towards you guys.

the three of you meet them at the middle and utahime starts to explain.

"satoru threw up on this vip table trying to make it in time to the restroom..." a slight look of disgust on her face

"you guys know I can't stand the smell of cheap vape smokeeee~"he whines from between his two friends, body slumped over

"oh." you also grimace imagining the situation

"we're going to walk him back to his place." utahime tries to convey with sorry eyes that she's sad the night had to end like this

"it's okay." you say and turn to shoko, "are you going with them?"

her place was on the same side of town as theirs, and they were probably going to stay at satoru's anyway. he had more than three bedrooms and was always ready for sleepovers.

"yeah," she says, moving forward to poke at satoru's chest, almost as if he were a lab rat, "you guys fine to-"

"nice tits pretty girl!" you hear a holler next to your ear

and its some guy walking by with his two other friends, clearly inebriated but its also clearly not enough for him to blame the behavior on it. and his target couldn't be anymore obvious when he's making the nastiest eye contact with you, or more so your chest.

"come again?" suguru says sternly at him, he didn't yell but...

you could hear him well and clear alright.

the guy stops walking and turns to you and suguru, speaking with a sassy stupor, "I said her tits were nice."

you look up behind you and suguru is biting his cheek, something you've never seen from him. you can tell he's mad and so can the other guy.

"you her boyfriend or something?" he smirks, relishing in the way suguru scowls at him as he nears the both of you, "if you're not saying shit ill fuck her little pussy right in front of-"

BAM!

multiple oohs are heard when suguru sucker punches him. and height is the only thing that helps your offender, because he does manage to stay up and land a punch to suguru's nose.

but before you can react and head over to check on him, like lightning, the guy is the ground after suguru hands him an uppercut.

and there goes satoru, vomiting on the side of the road too.

which you don't seem phased by because suguru just defended your honor, and won, so quickly.

but you're also really worried because his nose is bleeding when he turns around.

ignoring the pain of your heels finally setting in, you click clack over to him and move the hand he's using to grab at his nose so you can inspect him.

you're not sure if he can tell you're somewhere between feeling lusty and worried when he looks down at you, but he looks serious still as he makes eye contact with you.

and satoru barfs even more

"I can't handle blooddddd~" he cries which ushers a panicked utahime into calling shoko over and asking if you'd be fine heading back with suguru, making sure he's fine at the end of it.

when they start heading off, you pull out your phone from your purse, "let me get us an uber to your place."

your hands are shaking a little in adrenaline and you jump a little when suguru swipes your phone from your hand and hands you his, uber app already open.

he's continuously wiping his nose as he painfully murmurs, "not letting you leave my place alone, I'll drop you off at yours first, put your address, I'll pay."

worriedly, you want to deny him, but the thought is intimidated out of you when he stares you down.

"ok-okay." you speak a little shakily

so much for you thinking you'd be cool and calm in a situation like this.

you dragged suguru into your apartment the moment you got to your place. you had finally noticed the small cut on his nose bridge and near his eye and really insisted on patching him up.

you also were scared that he'd somehow get a brain bleed and die on the way home out of sheer anxiety. so you wanted to keep an eye on him for a while to keep your mind at ease.

suguru is sitting at the edge of your bed, watching as you rummage through your restroom for your first aid kid. and when you finally find it, you're rushing to him and setting it down next to him, beginning to filter through it for the alcohol wipes.

"close your eyes," you ask breathlessly, still feeling the after effects of your adrenaline, "I don't want to irritate your eyes accidentally."

suguru listens to you and closes his eyes, a slight grimace already on his face in preparation for the sting you're about to bring to his cuts.

he hisses a little when you press on them

"sorry."

"it's okay." his eyes scrunch a little and you can see his hand on his lap, opening and closing as a reflex to the sting.

then you take out the antibiotic ointment to start spreading a little on his wounds. his body relaxes a little when he sees that the bothersome part is over and he keeps his eyes open, watching you.

you feel so hot under his gaze, you can't help but blabber when you're in the process of putting cream on his nose bridge

"you really have been putting the work in at kickboxing huh." you say awkwardly, trying to do a fake laugh, but

"did I scare you?"

suguru's burning a hole into your face with how intensely he's looking at you

you almost choke on your breath

"no."

"you were shaking when you were typing your address on my phone."

oh he noticed

you didn't want him to misunderstand

"well you didn't scare me, but I was scared for you, still am. I don't want you to drop dead on the street." you answer a little shakily, having forgotten to reach for the small bandaids.

"besides what girl gets scared of the guy who defends her honor..." you add

"shoko almost gagged when nanami made a guy apologize to her." he quips

"well that's shoko," you shrug and look off to the side, "I liked it."

you're about to reach for the bandaids when his hand on is holding onto one of your arms, gentle but it sustains all your attention.

"what do you mean?"

"well we all know shoko's a lesb-"

"no, when you said you liked it."

explaining that to him is complicated. when you said that you liked it you know that you mean that your panties got a little sticky watching him spit out blood that tried to seep into his mouth from his nose. the memory makes you subconsciously rub your thighs together. but you'll just brush it off as a normal like, as in it flattered you.

unbeknownst to you, suguru spotted the movement between your legs.

"it was flatte-"

"then why do you look so nervous trying to tell me that?"

a bit exasperated and heavily flustered, you stomp your foot a little and avoid looking at him, "suguru, please stop. you're making me nervous."

"what's there to be nervous about?"

"we're just friends." he adds

and his eyes light up watching when your own shoot towards him, your offense front and center.

and for the first time, you can see how he looks at you with so much yearning?

"am I wrong?"

christ, has he always looked at you with this much desire?

you're speechless and even though the signs are pointing towards the obvious, you still form a sentence that spares your feelings.

"do you want to be wrong?"

"yeah."

you feel shaky again

and it's not because you're scared.

"can you please stop looking at me like that?" you beg, avoiding his eyes again, almost about to hyperventilate from the pressure his stare is putting on you.

he grabs your other hand and leers you close to him, breath tickling your neck since you're so stubborn on not looking at him.

"do you still want to be friends?" he asks

and even though it sounds seductive and suave, you can make out the slight genuine yearning to know if that's what you want.

so you look at him again, trying to swallow the nervous lump in your throat

"you know how I feel." you plead

"no I don't," he laughs a little painfully, "I've never said anything because I don't know, so tell me."

you stare at each other for a while, his patience everlasting as you muster up the courage to say something that shouldn't be so embarrassing.

"I don't want to be friends."

"do you want me to go home?" he asks, thumbs rubbing circles on your wrists.

and its the quickest answer you've given him so far

"no."

and you want it

bad.

so so so bad.

but you have to get the question off of your chest.

"what-what do you want to be?"

"each other's if you'll have me." he breathes, looking up at you still

he's saying all the right things. and he's here. you're freshly shaved and waxed and wearing the hottest lingerie under this. fucking hell you wouldn't even need foreplay to take him right now, you're preening at the thought of having him.

"do you think satoru packs condoms in his go-go bag?"

it just slips out of your mouth so easily and you want to be embarrassed, but you're to eager for that.

"I know he does." suguru gets up quickly, eyes darting to your closet and then to you, "are you sure?"

and it's like some sort of instincts take over because you take the hands that are holding yours and place them on your tits, motioning for him to squeeze them.

"I'm really sure."

the action has him baffled, a pink flush face you've never seen on him while he stands there taken aback. it gives you a little confidence to remove his hands and take off your dress. then you let him watch as you get on the bed, sitting on your heels as you take his hands in yours again to plead.

"I want you in me suguru."

"fuck." he curses, before rushing towards your closet and yanking the infamous go-go bag and tossing it next to the bed. he starts to take his shirt off soon after, immediately reaching for your face when he gets into the bed with you

he's a sensual kisser. sensual as in you're pretty sure it'd be illegal to kiss him in public.

he kisses like he's fucking your mouth with his own. and it has you shivering into his touch, pussy aching for him to fill you up.

you pull him in by the belt loops of his jeans and whine, "take it out please."

your words make him groan into your mouth and he reaches one hand down to help yours unzipper his pants and push them down.

you feel his raw length slap across and press onto your mound when he grinds against you

"you haven't done this before right." he almost says darkly as he stares down at where your bodies would be meeting soon.

"no." you moan, watching him as he stuffs his dick under your panties and slides it back and forth on your pussy lips.

he shivers at the contact and dips his head into your neck, mouthing and biting at the skin there, "fuck, you're actually drenched."

and for a moment, you both get rigid at the euphoric feeling of his tip catching on your hole so easily.

"I'm not sure I'm going to last long with you right now," he all but exhales shakily, hips still moving back and forth against you

"that's fine, just keep going."

and he's about to reach over in the bag for a condom when your lust takes over so much that you stop him and line him up with your hole.

"just do it like that please."

he moans as your ministrations and looks at you for reassurance, "are you sure?"

you can tell he's fighting so hard not to move

"just use my pussy please suguru, I need it so bad." you complain, reaching down to pull your panties further to the side, chest heaving from carnal need for him.

suguru leans closer to pull your see through bra down, and begins to suck harshly on one of your nipples when he starts bullying his cock into you.

you can feel every vein when he starts to sink into you and fuck, his tip is so snug and big, the feeling of it ridging against your insides every time he brings it in and out is dizzying.

you're so focused on the feeling of his thick dick filling you up that you've barely noticed how suguru's folded your legs back. both of you now entranced in the way he's balls deep in you, a loud wet pap sound accompanying every thrust of his.

"you like that sweet girl?" he heaves through deep fast thrusts, mesmerized by the way your stomach moves just a little every time he bottoms out.

words aren't something you're capable of right now because when you try to respond, all you let out is shriek

this is nothing compared to the way you've tried to pummel yourself with your dildo. his hands are everywhere and he's got you right where he wants you. you can't escape him.

and when you thought he couldn't his pace and force grows stronger.

you're basically screaming now.

"yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes." is all you can say, so dumb on his cock that you can't help but want more and more

"fuck, don't talk like that," he groans, almost as if to himself, "I'm gonna end up creaming your pussy if you keep that up."

"cream it please." you beg loudly, "wanna feel us get messy."

your tongue is basically salivating at the though of his balls coated in cum and slapping against your clit, strings of mess forming from how intense it is.

and he starts twitching into you, rushing to kiss you as he pumps inside of you. thank goodness, it feels like its spilling out of you in heaps.

you're so happy, so so happy.

"let's do doggy yeah?" you pull him in by wrapping an arm around his neck, grinding your hips against him for more

"whatever you want," he nearly whines, pulling out of you just so he can flip you over and push your back down.

you feel hornier like this, pussy more exposed and growing needier with the feeling of his cum seeping out of you. it makes you wiggle your ass for him to fuck you more already.

and without warning he does just that, slipping into you again and gripping your ass so hard when he starts using you like a fleshlight.

"fuck, yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes," he mumbles to himself, "tiny fucking wet pussy. love it so fucking much. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck."

you're thoughtless, just utterly brain dead from how hard he's going on you, from how much your pussy is getting split open again and again.

this goes on for hours, so many positions covered by you and suguru. foreplay was never involved at all during that time, neither of you wanting to go without feeling each other so crudely connected for more than a second.

you actually fall asleep cockwarming him even, the both of you too stubborn to stop that you fell asleep still trying to get it on.

neither you or suguru hear the jingle of your apartment door being opened later that day. both too fucked out and tired to wake up.

but you do hear when the door to your own bedroom opens, and suguru quickly gets on the defensive, covering you with your bedsheets and about to-

"satoru!" you both yell.

"woah," you hear laughing through the door, "you guys really stayed up all night fucking? everybody's been calling you guys since two."

3K notes · View notes

vampirian · 1 year ago

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why does god keep on giving his most inconsequential fights to his most disbelieving soldier aka my atheist ass having insomnia trying to fix my sleeping schedule and then waking up with a migraine at midnight and not being sleepy enough to go back to sleep even now at 8am

#me yesterday when i woke up at 5am: oh nice i can finally fix my schedule #me at 1pm: yeah my eyes are giving up on me i'll just take a nap #me at midnight: ... well #and i cannot sleep this afternoon bc im going to a friends place for the weekend #and the migraine didn't go away either and just got worse even after drinking more than 1l and having the window open for fresh air #so i just surrendered and took an ibu #let's hope i can get some sleep in a bit for at least a couple hours until i leave in the afternoon

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rafey-baby · 3 months ago

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how did older!rafe and sensitive!reader meet?

c/w: fluff, their meet cute & first time, age gap (not specified), smut: p-in-v, use of dad, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.5k

posted this for @hittmeandtellmeyouremine and her only <3 (couldn’t help but edit this anyway cause it was all over the place tbh)

more of them on my masterlist btw!

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

The Island Club is buzzing.

Usually, she’s not too fond of spending her Friday night surrounded by preppy, intoxicated Kooks (a name she’s not too proud to carry herself) but it’s her friend’s birthday and she couldn’t exactly say no when everyone in the group chat kept gushing over how fun it was going to be.

Nonetheless, she finds herself giggling whilst some drunken guy at the bar begins chatting about this little Dalmatian puppy he recently adopted with his boyfriend. He’s even going as far as showing them pictures of the all too adorable black and white furball on his phone screen, when her lovely bladder decides to remind her of the alcohol she’s consumed before she’s excusing herself to the restroom—weaving through sweaty bodies with mumbled apologies and wobbly legs.

Then, completely out of the blue, icy liquid is soaking through her top and halting her movements.

“Shit, sorry,” the guy who stumbled into her drawls out and she blinks up—meeting broad shoulders and shard features that belong to an older man easily twice her age and entirely too handsome to be considered fair.

“Oh, it’s okay,” she squeaks out, delayed, star-struck, attempting to continue on with her journey before she embarrasses herself even further. However, she doesn’t get the chance to do anything before a warm palm on her upper arm tugs her back.

“Nah, s’fully my fault, let me—uh, do they have any...” he looks around, searching for something before his expression brightens. “Right, yeah, the bathroom,” he slurs, seemingly proud of himself, and she figures he must’ve had one too many glasses of the whiskey currently seeping through the lacy material of her bra.

She opens her mouth to tell him it’s fine but he’s already dragging her towards the back with a hold on her wrist before he’s setting her on top of the dirty bathroom counter where a few girls are fixing each other’s makeup. Upon his arrival, one of them rolls her eyes—the door slamming shut behind them soon after. But he doesn’t even seem to notice, already patting at her chest with some paper towels, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world.

“Um, thanks,” she mumbles, already teetering on the edge of tipsy and absolutely wasted herself, which is why she doesn’t question his strange behavior too much; merely sits there and lets him concentrate on the soggy spot on her shirt.

“Look, you can’t even see it, s’a good thing you wearin’ black, huh?” he grins before throwing the damp pieces of paper into the trash while she grabs some more tissues to dab underneath the fabric, the skin of her chest sticky and gross.

“We haven’t, uh, we haven’t met before, right? M’Rafe,” his voice is smooth syrup when he suddenly holds out his palm for her to take. And for a moment, she merely stares at it with rounded eyes before realizing how dumb she must seem.

“Hi, sorry, no, we haven’t,” she quickly answers before taking his much bigger hand into her own, holding onto it for far too long to be considered appropriate as she stumbles over her own name—something amused blooming on his face in response.

“S’nice to meet you,” he smiles, gaze holding her hostage while she struggles to look away.

“Thank you,” her cheeks heat up when her apparently empty brain has the chance to process her mistake. “I mean...you too?” a flustered giggle bubbles out of her throat, wishing she could evaporate into thin air right about now.

However, he doesn’t seem to mind her making a complete fool out of herself because he merely chuckles, seemingly entertained as his eyes flit over her features in curiosity.

“You, uh, you want another drink?” he asks. “...as an apology for ruinin’ your top ‘n shit,” he adds when she seems hesitant.

“Oh, um…yeah, that’d be—uh, great. But m’actually here for my friend’s birthday so...I can’t,” she manages out, confused when something akin to disappointment in cerulean blue greets her.

“Shame.”

- - - - - - - - -

For the following weeks, Rafe sticks to the forefront of her mind like honey until one night, she bumps into someone after leaving the restaurant her date never showed up to—far too occupied deciding that she’d never listen to her friend again to realize who it is. Because why would she make her believe that some stupid guy they met at the library of all places, would be perfect for her?

“Y/N? What’re you doin’ here all by yourself?” Rafe’s familiar rumble makes her annoyed thoughts vanish, causing her to look up in surprise.

“Oh, hi...this is, um, kinda embarrassing,” she mumbles while his gaze flits over her dress and the heels that were already making her feet hurt. And she has no choice but to explain what had happened, for some reason growing teary-eyed in the process because he listens so patiently, a concerned crease between his brows making her feel like he actually cares.

“Listen, that guy was a fuckin’ idiot if he stood you up, alright?” he scoffs, sounding exasperated and making her smile despite the few droplets already soaking her cheeks. And he seems so understanding, so considerate when he wipes away her tears and gives her a warm hug before offering to take her out for dinner instead.

“I mean, it’d be a waste of such a pretty dress, yeah?” he makes it sound like the most logical thing and she can’t help but agree, thinking he’s merely being polite because she’s just humiliated herself in front of someone she barely knows.

And she thinks he’s just wonderful when he takes her to the most expensive restaurant on the island—cracking stupid jokes that make her giggle while she wonders why she hadn’t met this dream of a man sooner.

However, when their bellies are warm and satiated, she begins to feel entirely too guilty about him spending so much money on her, already insisting on splitting the bill. But when she’s going through her purse for her wallet, he merely lets out a humored chuckle, muttering out how she’s apparently so cute for even thinking he’d let her do that.

And somehow, one thing leads to another, and the night ends with her splayed out on his bed—a whimpering mess of tears and smudged makeup while his big hands roam all over her skin.

“You let me between these thighs so fuckin’ easy, huh? I mean m’old enough to be your dad, you know that, right?” he mocks while he stuffs her full.

“Don’t say that,” she whines, embarrassed because she can’t help but squeeze around him when the word leaves his mouth.

“Why? Cause that shit turns you on?” he chuckles, tone teetering on the edge of patronizing and genuinely curious while his stubble tickles the skin of her neck he’s smearing sloppy kisses all over.

“…no,” she tries to hide her face behind her hands when he looks up.

“No? Why you squeezin’ me like that then, hm?” he raises his brows, grabbing her jaw to force her to lock eyes with him when he suddenly pushes in deeper.

And she’s so taken aback that he somehow managed to dig out this part of her, something she keeps locked away in the basement of her mind because not everyone gets it—not everyone’s able to pick up on the telltale signs of her addled little brain craving for something more than just a conventional boyfriend.

She’s can’t answer the man above her though, not when he’s emptied her cerebrum in the span of a few moments and she feels so overwhelmed all of a sudden, unable to form anything audible when he’s molding her insides to his liking and looking at her like that.

“S’okay baby, don’t need to be embarrassed, dad will take such good care of you, alright?” he coos, a grin tugging at his mouth when she gushes around him in response.

The only thing she can focus on are his heady breaths brushing over her face while he paws at her hips—rutting into her over and over and over again until she’s soaking his cock and her cheeks are decorated in mascara stains and teardrops.

“There you go, jus’ let it all out, yeah? Let me take care of you,” he croons, talking her through it before his thrusts grow lazy and he’s glazing her gummy walls in white; filling her up to the brim with the sticky mess until it begins to dribble down from where they’re still connected.

And after he’s cleaned her up and given her his shirt to sleep in, he holds her close to his chest, strong and comforting arms wrapped around her middle making her feel safe, protected. It makes her eyes well up with soggy droplets all over again because everything wrong suddenly feels so right. As if a piece she’s been missing all her life has finally been placed in the shallow hole that she’s always carried around without even realizing—in the shape of a father.

Suddenly, her always so heavy thoughts don’t weigh her down all that much anymore—not when her mind is blossoming in an entirely novel way with all things Rafe.

And as his sleepy breaths and steady heartbeat pacify her more than anything ever has, she thinks she wants to feel like this forevermore.

3K notes · View notes

leriexoxo · 25 days ago

Text

Wrong Movie Ticket

Bestfriend! Chan x Reader

Tags: smut, bestfriends to lovers, cinema porn, fingering, semi public inappropriate acts, oral (m,f receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, riding, choking, confessions.

Word count: 6.5k

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless retro movie night with your best friend Chan. Then the film started… and it was porn. Now you’re stuck in a dark adult cinema, horny, flustered, and sitting way too close to the man you’ve never seen that way—until now. What follows? Stolen touches, filthy tension, crossed lines, and the slowest and fastest descent into “we probably shouldn’t be doing this.” Too bad neither of you wants to stop.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You didn’t think twice about asking Chan.

It was a throwaway message — a random, impulsive moment while scrolling your phone. The kind of thing only your best friend would say yes to without making it weird.

Got two free tickets to a retro film screening lol. Come with me?? Apparently it’s a surprise title.

You didn’t expect him to reply three seconds later with,

Say less. I’m already choosing snacks in my head.

And now here you were.

Shoulder to shoulder in a darkened theater that smelled like old velvet and warm popcorn, curled up in plush, oversized recliners that felt suspiciously luxurious for an indie cinema. You’d joked about it when you walked in — called it “bougie-arthouse-meets-grandma’s-living-room.”

Chan had laughed, soft and bright, and dropped his head to your shoulder for a second.

“You and your weird luck,” he’d said. “Only you would win tickets to a mystery movie night in a place that looks like it doubles as a jazz bar for ghosts.”

And you’d smiled. You always smiled when he touched you.

Now, the lights dimmed fully, and the film began with a crackle of film grain and a vintage soundtrack humming over the speakers.

At first, everything felt normal.

Old cars. Sepia tones. Awkward, exaggerated acting from a woman in a silk slip and a man with a mustache too big for his face. You sipped your drink. Chan occasionally leaned in to whisper dumb commentary in your ear, and you had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

Then the silk slip hit the floor.

You blinked.

Onscreen, the woman dropped to her knees.

“…Wait,” you said under your breath.

Chan leaned forward slightly. “Is she…?”

She was. Very much.

The theater stayed silent, but you could feel it now — the strange atmosphere. The intentionality of the recliners. The lack of teenagers. The fact that everyone was sitting in pairs. Close. Intimate.

You glanced at Chan.

He was frowning a little, eyes still fixed forward.

And then she moaned.

Loudly. Lewdly. Wet and raw.

Chan inhaled sharply, then turned to you — eyes wide with disbelief.

“Is this—?”

“Porn,” you whispered. “I think it’s porn.”

You both stared forward again.

The camera cut to the man’s face — all clenched jaw and labored breathing as she took him deeper into her throat.

You sat frozen, drink in your hand, heart suddenly thudding like you were caught watching something you shouldn’t.

Chan cleared his throat. Shifted in his seat.

“We should… we could leave,” he said, but his voice was strained.

You couldn’t look at him. “Mhm. Could.”

But you didn’t move. Neither did he and the screen only got filthier.

There was something hypnotic about it — not the porn itself, but the setting. The heavy quiet of the room. The creak of recliners. The small, breathy gasps from one or two corners of the theater where other pairs sat just a little too close.

Chan shifted again beside you, and this time you felt it — his thigh brushing yours.

He wasn’t pulling away. Neither were you. And your chest was rising faster now. You didn’t say anything.

You couldn’t.

Not with the screen soaked in moans and movement and sweat, and the awareness of him sitting right there, warm and silent and way too close.

You didn’t look at him.

But you wondered If he was feeling it too. You didn’t dare move.

Not because you were afraid — but because you weren’t sure what might happen if you did.

The screen lit up with flesh. Grainy but real. A woman on her back now, legs spread wide, breathless under a man twice her size. He fucked her slow and deep, long strokes that made her back arch off the mattress.

The audio was soft but obscene.

You swallowed hard.

You hadn’t meant to watch porn with your best friend. Hadn’t meant to sit this close, thighs touching, breaths syncing like your bodies had somehow started responding to the same rhythm pulsing through the room.

The theater was still mostly quiet, but… not entirely.

There were sounds. Small, barely-there ones. A stifled moan from the far right corner. A squeak of leather from behind you. Someone shifting in a way that didn’t sound like they were just trying to get comfortable.

Your skin prickled.

And beside you, Chan exhaled. A little shaky.

You finally turned your head toward him. He looked… tense. Eyes fixed on the screen, jaw tight, one hand braced on his thigh like he was deliberately keeping it there.

You whispered, “Chan…”

He blinked, tore his gaze from the screen, and looked at you.

His eyes were darker now.

His lips parted, breath shallow.

“I didn’t…” he said softly. “I didn’t think it would actually be—”

“I know,” you breathed. “Me neither.”

A beat passed. Neither of you looked away.

The sounds from the movie grew louder — wet, rhythmic, raw. Her moans echoing, punctuated by filthy dialogue that made your stomach flip.

Chan’s eyes dropped to your lips for just a second.

Just long enough to make your breath catch.

And when they lifted again — slowly — his tongue darted across his bottom lip.

“You okay?” he asked. Quiet. Gentle.

You nodded before you even thought about it.

But he didn’t look convinced.

Your knees were still touching. Bare skin brushing denim. The air between you was thick enough to chew.

You tried to shift your attention back to the screen — to pretend none of this was happening.

But all you could think about was the way Chan was not moving away.

The way your skin still tingled from that single look.

The way your body had started to thrum in time with the soundtrack.

You heard her moan again — a long, high cry that made your thighs clench instinctively.

Chan noticed. You knew he noticed.

His fingers twitched against his own leg. And then he let out a quiet, almost silent laugh — like he couldn’t believe what was happening either.

“This is insane,” he muttered.

You bit your lip. “Mhm.”

And then — softer — he added, “You’re warm.”

You turned to look at him fully now. “What?”

His eyes were on your bare thigh, where it pressed against his. His hand hovered just above it.

“You’re warm,” he said again, like it meant something else. Like he wasn’t just talking about skin temperature.

You held his gaze. And for the first time all night, something shifted. Your pulse spiked but he didn’t touch you.

Not yet.

But his hand stayed there. Hovering. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his palm. Like he was waiting for permission he didn’t know he needed.

Your breath hitched.

And Chan’s jaw clenched again — like holding back was costing him something.

“I should…” he started.

But he didn’t finish the sentence. Because neither of you really knew how this was supposed to go anymore.

You tried to shake it off.

The porn, the glances, the way Chan looked at your thighs like they were saying something. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That best friends had weird moments sometimes — and maybe you’d laugh about it tomorrow over coffee.

But then you went to dinner.

Just a casual spot near the theater. Dimly lit bar-slash-restaurant, exposed brick, candlelight on the tables. The kind of place where your friend group could cram into a long booth and pass menus around like nothing was vibrating under the surface.

Chan slid in next to you without a word.

You were hyper-aware of it. Of his shoulder against yours, the brush of his denim jacket sleeve. His thigh pressing against yours again like he needed it. Like he hadn’t gotten it out of his system earlier.

Your friend across the table said something — you didn’t catch it.

You laughed anyway. Too loud. Too bright.

Chan didn’t say much at first. He drank his beer, leaned in for the occasional snarky comment in your ear, but you could feel it — the way his hand stayed in his lap, twitching sometimes like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

And then.

You reached for a napkin. Your legs shifted. And his hand landed on your knee.

Accidentally — at first.

At least, you thought it was accidental. But he didn’t move it.

You froze.

Looked down.

He was staring straight ahead, nodding at something one of your friends was saying — like nothing was happening.

Like his fingers weren’t slowly brushing the bare skin just above your knee, under the hem of your denim skirt.

You inhaled sharply.

He heard it. You knew he did, because his fingers paused, then curled just a little.

Your stomach dropped.

You flicked your eyes sideways at him.

Chan was still looking at the others. Still pretending. But his hand was now fully on your thigh — warm, heavy, steady — and slowly sliding higher.

Your breath caught.

He was doing it on purpose. And you… You weren’t stopping him.

He leaned in then, head tilted toward yours like he was about to whisper another joke — but his voice was low this time. Quiet enough that only you could hear it over the ambient music and clinking glasses.

“You’re not moving,” he murmured. “You’re letting me do this.”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“You’re the one touching me,” you shot back, voice tight.

His thumb brushed higher.

Your skin tingled.

“Yeah,” he said, barely audible now. “And you’re letting me.”

Your legs shifted under the table, parting just a little — not on purpose, not really — but it didn’t matter. Because his fingers slipped right into that space. Hot and deliberate.

You felt the pad of his middle finger slide up the inside of your thigh.

Slow and Dangerous.

And you snapped your knees together instinctively — not in rejection, but because it was too much.

He stopped. Froze.

You looked at him but he was already looking at you. Eyes blown wide, jaw tight. Like he wasn’t sure who he was right now. Neither were you.

Your voice came out a whisper. “Chan…”

“I’ll stop if you tell me to,” he said.

Silence stretched between you.

The others were still talking. Laughing. Existing in some parallel universe where you weren’t seconds from being fingered under a dinner table.

But you weren’t in that universe.

You were here. You were wet.

And Chan’s fingers were moving again.

You should have told him to stop.

There were too many people. Too many eyes. Your friends were right there — sharing food, sipping drinks, cracking jokes across the table like this was just another Thursday night.

And under the table? Chan’s hand was under your skirt.

Fully.

You didn’t know how it had happened so quickly — or maybe you did. Maybe it was always going to happen, after what the movie did to the both of you. After the way your thighs touched and neither of you pulled back.

But this? This was insane.

His fingertips brushed the edge of your underwear, and you inhaled sharply — too sharply — so you faked a cough and reached for your water.

Chan’s body shifted subtly beside you. You felt his breath near your ear as he leaned in to pretend he was saying something casual.

“Still not stopping me,” he murmured.

You clenched your thighs again, but this time it was too late. His fingers had already slipped past the edge of your panties.

Your hips twitched. And his knuckles pressed against your core.

You were soaked.

Like your body had been waiting for this since the cinema. Like it had been aching for him in the most humiliating, undeniable way.

Chan froze.

And then — low enough that no one else could possibly hear — he let out the smallest, most desperate sound.

“Fuck…”

You looked at him, panicked — your voice a whisper. “Chan, we’re in public.”

“I know,” he breathed, barely glancing at you. His hand didn’t move. “Tell me to stop and i will.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t.

And that was all he needed. His middle finger slipped inside you in one slow, hot push.

Your thighs tensed. Your mouth fell open.

You grabbed your drink like it was the only thing tethering you to reality — fingers white-knuckling the glass as you tried to keep your face normal, blank, anything but wrecked.

Above the table, someone asked you a question. Something about dessert. A menu. It didn’t matter. You didn’t hear it.

Because Chan curled his finger inside you.

Your hand shot to your lap, gripping your thigh to keep yourself from squirming. You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at anyone. You just nodded blindly and mumbled something noncommittal, hoping it passed.

Chan didn’t let up.

His finger moved in and out slowly, and your entire body flushed with heat. He had the audacity to smirk — just the tiniest bit — eyes still fixed on his drink like he wasn’t currently fingering his best friend under the table while people laughed and talked around them.

“This is so fucking wrong,” you hissed under your breath.

“I know,” he said. Another finger joined the first. “But you’re not telling me to stop.”

Your eyes fluttered shut for half a second.

You tried to breathe through your nose. Stay quiet. Act normal. But every subtle movement of his hand made your legs twitch, your core clench, your heartbeat crash against your ribs.

You glanced at him again.

He looked flushed now too. Like he was seconds from losing his mind, but still holding it together because it was you. Because this wasn’t just lust, it was something older, deeper — something that had been crawling under both your skins for months.

“Chan,” you whispered, like a warning.

“Say the word,” he said, voice tight. “Say stop. I will. But you don’t want me to.”

And you hated how right he was. Because instead of pulling away, you shifted forward an inch — just enough that his fingers sank deeper inside you.

Chan sucked in a breath. And you both went still.

A sharp laugh cracked from across the table, drawing attention — and you had to force a smile, nod along, pretend you weren’t sitting there with your best friend’s fingers knuckle-deep inside your body, massaging a spot that made your eyes blur.

Your thighs trembled and Chan leaned in, lips brushing your ear like a secret.

“You’re gonna cum,” he whispered. “Right here, aren’t you?”

You shuddered. Your breath hitched.

And he smiled — not cocky, not cruel. Just in awe. Like he couldn’t believe how beautiful you looked with your cheeks flushed and your teeth digging into your lip to keep a moan from slipping out.

You felt your orgasm build — fast, frantic, terrifying.

You grabbed his wrist under the table.

He stilled instantly. “Too much?”

You shook your head. “Not enough.”

And that was it.

His fingers moved faster, deeper, his palm nudging your clit just enough to send you over the edge in a quiet, trembling crash of heat and pleasure. You came with your teeth pressed into your fist, staring hard at a candle on the table like it could anchor you, keep you grounded while your body shattered in silence.

And when it was over, you sat back—Breathless. Shaking.

His fingers slipped out of you slowly, carefully — like he respected what he’d just done to you, even if it made no sense at all.

Your eyes met his and the panic set in.

What the fuck are we doing?

But you were still wet. Still aching.

And you knew — without a doubt — you weren’t done.

You bolted from the table the second your legs worked again.

Something about needing the bathroom. A brush of your hand on your friend’s shoulder as you excused yourself, voice a little too high-pitched, smile a little too tight.

You didn’t look at Chan.

Couldn’t.

Your body was still pulsing from what he’d just done to you — in public, surrounded by friends, like it was the most natural thing in the world to slide his fingers into his best friend and make her come in silence while everyone else debated dessert.

Your heart thundered.

You didn’t think. You just ran.

The bathroom door swung open and you staggered inside, gripping the sink, trying to catch your breath. Your panties were still wet, your thighs sticky, your reflection in the mirror pink-cheeked and glassy-eyed and wrecked.

“What the fuck,” you whispered to yourself.

And then the door opened behind you. Your stomach dropped.

“Chan, don’t—”

But it was too late.

He stepped in, locked the door behind him, and turned to face you — eyes dark, breathing shallow, like he’d sprinted the whole way.

“I had to,” he said. “I couldn’t just let you leave like that.”

You backed up a step. “We’re in the bathroom.”

“No one saw me come in.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?” His voice cracked on the edge of something— desperation, maybe. “Because I just made you cum under the fucking table and you didn’t even look at me.”

“I couldn’t!” you hissed, voice sharp and low.

He flinched. Just slightly.

You swallowed, heart pounding.

“It was too much,” you added. “You— that— fuck, Chan.”

He moved toward you. Slow. Careful. But you didn’t step back.

“You liked it,” he said softly.

You blinked. “That’s not—”

“You liked it,” he repeated. “Your body loved it. You soaked through my fingers.”

Your lips parted.

He stopped right in front of you now, eyes flicking down to your mouth, then back up.

“You didn’t even know you were grinding against my hand until I curled my fingers and you almost choked on your drink.”

“Chan—”

“You’re still wet, aren’t you?” he asked, voice wrecked. “Still aching.”

You stared at him. And you didn’t deny it. A beat of silence passed.

Then: “I don’t know what this is,” you whispered. “I don’t know what’s happening to us.”

His hand rose — not to touch you, but to rest against the wall behind your head. Caging you in. Close enough that his breath hit your lips.

“I do,” he murmured.

Your stomach flipped.

He leaned in just a little more. “I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked in that theater. The way you breathed. The way your thighs trembled.”

You swallowed hard.

“I shouldn’t want you,” he said, forehead nearly touching yours now. “You’re my best friend.”

“Then stop,” you said. It sounded like a challenge.

He looked at you.

“You don’t want me to stop.”

Your silence was answer enough.

And then he kissed you.

Hard. Hungry. Like every second you’d known each other had been leading here, and he was done pretending. His hands gripped your waist, and before you could catch your breath, he had you backed against the stall door, mouth trailing fire down your neck.

“I need to taste you properly,” he whispered against your throat. “But I can’t wait.”

You whimpered as his hands slid under your skirt again, rougher this time — no hesitation. He shoved your panties down with practiced fingers, lifted your leg over his waist and slide two fingers back inside you like they belonged there.

You moaned — couldn’t help it.

His free hand clamped over your mouth immediately.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “You’ll get us caught.”

His eyes burned into yours — wild, wrecked, possessive.

And he fucked you with his fingers like he meant it. Like he needed to make you feel it. Wrist twisting just right, fingers rubbing the spot that made your eyes roll back, and all you could do was cling to his shoulders and take it.

You came harder this time.

Biting into his palm. Hips jerking against his hand.

And even after your legs gave out and your body sagged against the door, he didn’t pull away. He held you there. Pressed his forehead to yours. Breathing you in.

“I’m not sorry,” he whispered.

You shook your head, eyes still glazed. “Me neither.”

—

Neither of you said anything on the way back.

You walked side by side, hands in your pockets, your face still flushed from the bathroom, heart still pounding in your throat.

The streets were quieter now, warm with the scent of summer and distant traffic, and the occasional brush of Chan’s arm sent shivers crawling down your spine.

You couldn’t look at him.

Because if you did…

You might ask for something neither of you could ever come back from.

Your thighs still ached. Your underwear still clung damp to your skin. And between your legs — Jesus. It was like your body had been switched on and couldn’t shut off.

You were still feeling his fingers inside you.

And he kept glancing sideways. Like he wanted to say something. But didn’t know how.

You finally reached his building. The stoop was dim and familiar — how many nights had you sat there together, late-night snacks and dumb conversations and sleepy yawns on each other’s shoulders? You could still see the ghost of those moments hovering in the air, but they were dissolving fast.

Chan turned to you at the door.

Hands in his pockets.

Voice rough.

“Do you wanna—” He swallowed. “Come in?”

Your heart stuttered.

You should’ve said no.

But instead you nodded.

His apartment smelled like his cologne and roses.

You stood in the middle of his living room, heart hammering. Your skin felt too tight, your legs still shaky. And Chan — god, Chan — locked the door behind you, then leaned back against it like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands.

Until he looked at you.

Really looked at you.

And you felt your breath catch.

“You’re driving me fucking insane,” he said quietly.

You blinked. “What?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you. Your thighs, your mouth, the way you looked at me when I touched you. I’ve never seen anything that turned me on more in my life.”

Your throat went dry.

He pushed off the door and stepped closer.

“I want to fuck you so bad I’m shaking.”

Your lips parted.

“Chan—”

“I want to pin you down,” he continued, voice wrecked. “I want to have your wrists in one hand, your neck in the other, and just ruin you.”

You made a small, helpless sound.

He reached for you then — slow, giving you time to pull away — but you didn’t.

He brushed your hair back. Tilted your chin up.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he said. “How many nights I’ve had to jerk off in silence after hugging you goodbye.”

You stared at him. Speechless.

“I think about you when I fuck my fist. I imagine you beneath me, half-undressed, legs open, begging.”

You gasped — one hand flying to cover your mouth.

But he wasn’t done.

“I want to pin you to the bed,” he whispered. “Hold you down while you squirm. Make you cry my name while I fuck you like you owe me something.”

Your legs buckled.

He caught you instantly.

“You like that?” he breathed.

You nodded, stunned.

“Good,” he growled. “Because I’m not done.”

He backed you toward the bedroom, eyes locked to yours.

“And after that?” he said. “I’m gonna cum all over you. Your stomach. Your face. Wherever I want.”

You whimpered.

“I’m gonna fuck you in your clothes, with your skirt bunched around your waist and your panties pushed aside, because I can’t wait to take them off.”

He licked his lips.

“And you’re gonna take it, baby girl.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. Breathless. Speechless.

So fucking turned on.

And then, softly you said:

“Show me.”

—

The bedroom door clicked shut behind you.

And it was like your body knew.

Your heart was a live wire. Your breath shallow. You took two slow steps into Chan’s room — familiar walls, familiar scent — but it didn’t feel like home tonight.

It felt like danger. It felt like him.

Chan followed behind, slow and steady, letting the silence stretch until you couldn’t take it anymore.

You turned around to face him.

He looked wrecked already — hair tousled, chest heaving, hands flexing open and shut at his sides like he was fighting the urge to grab you and ruin you.

You didn’t say anything.

You just looked at him — wide-eyed, breathless — and reached for the hem of your skirt.

He caught your wrists before you could tug it up.

“Let me,” he said.

And that voice — god, that voice — low and dark and possessive, made your knees tremble.

He walked toward you, slow like a wolf circling prey. You expected him to strip you, to yank your clothes off with that filthy desperation he’d whispered about.

But he didn’t.

He kissed you.

Soft, at first and then not.

His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping the backs with practiced heat. And when he pulled your skirt up — when he saw your ruined panties again — he let out a sound so deep it rattled in your chest.

“Still wet for me,” he said.

You couldn’t speak.

“You came twice and you’re still soaked.”

He dipped his head — not to kiss your mouth, but to press his lips to your throat. You tilted your head back with a gasp as he sucked at your pulse, teeth grazing, mouth open and hot.

“I’m gonna fuck you just like this,” he growled. “Skirt up. Panties in the way. Legs spread for me.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he dropped to his knees in front of you.

“Chan—”

“Shh.”

He kissed your inner thigh, lips dragging dangerously close to your center, but not touching. Not yet.

“You have no idea how many times I thought about this,” he said against your skin. “How many nights I imagined tasting you.”

And then his fingers hooked your underwear and tore them down.

You gasped.

He looked up at you from between your thighs, eyes dark and blown.

And then — finally — his mouth closed over your core.

Your knees buckled.

You moaned his name, loud and desperate, and he growled into you, arms locking around your thighs as he dragged you closer. His tongue was everywhere — licking, curling, sucking your clit in a rhythm that was absolutely obscene.

You lost time.

Lost sense.

You gripped his hair and ground against his face, your body taking what it needed because he wouldn’t stop, he wouldn’t let you breathe, and when his fingers slipped inside you, you came so hard your vision blacked out for a second.

“Fuck— fuck—” you sobbed, hips jerking.

He rode it out. Held you through it. Slowed down only when you begged him to.

And then he stood.

Still fully clothed.

Hard as a rock behind his jeans.

You couldn’t think. Could barely stand.

“Take it off,” you breathed, grabbing the hem of his shirt.

But he was already on it — pulling it over his head, tossing it aside, eyes locked to yours.

And fuck.

He was beautiful. He had always been.

His body was all sharp muscle and light skin and hunger, abs flexing as he worked his jeans open, breath stuttering like he couldn’t believe this was real.

And when he stepped out of them — hard, flushed, huge — you choked on your own gasp.

He grinned.

“Scared?”

You shook your head.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not gonna be gentle.”

You moaned.

He pushed you back until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

Then shoved you onto it.

Climbed on top of you, hands bracketing your head, knees parting your thighs.

“Hands up,” he said.

You obeyed instantly, arms stretched above you on the pillow.

He leaned down, kissed your lips like they were sacred.

“Keep them there.”

You nodded.

He lined himself up — and hovered for just a second.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered. “If I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

“Then don’t stop.”

And he thrust in.

Hard.

You arched up with a cry, nails digging into the sheets as he filled you to the hilt. He groaned above you, head falling to your shoulder, arms shaking with restraint.

“You feel like fucking heaven,” he breathed.

He gave you a moment.

And then he started to move.

Fast. Deep. Merciless.

The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room, and your gasps turned to cries, your hands fisting the sheets as he pounded into you like a mad man. Like he needed it. His fingers tangled with yours above your head, pinning you in place as his hips slammed into you again and again and again—

“Fuck—! Chan—”

“You’re mine,” he growled. “You’re so fucking mine.”

Your fourth orgasm tore through you like fire, and Chan groaned when he felt you clench around him, hips stuttering as he chased his own end.

And when he pulled out last-second and came all over your stomach, hot and messy and shaking, you felt like your soul had left your body.

You both collapsed.

Silence.

Only breath and heat and the soft whisper of, “Holy shit.”

You turned your head to look at him.

He looked at you. And he smiled.

—

It was the sun that woke you.

Bright and slow, bleeding through the gap in the curtains and painting gold across the bed. You stirred, eyes still closed, your body humming with a dull ache — sore thighs, tender hips, a deep throb between your legs that made your breath catch.

And then you felt it.

Warm skin at your back.

A chest rising and falling slowly behind you.

An arm, heavy and wrapped around your waist, fingers splayed possessively just under your ribs. His scent still clung to your skin — sweat and something darker, heady, him.

And that’s when the memories crashed in.

The bathroom.

The restaurant.

The bed.

The way he’d pinned your hands above your head and fucked you like he meant to wreck you.

Your cheeks burned instantly, eyes flying open.

Holy shit.

You slept with your best friend.

You slept with Chan.

And not just slept. You let him possess you— He had you on his face. His fingers, his mouth, his everything, and then he’d whispered things that should’ve made you run for the door but instead made you soaked.

You swallowed thickly.

And then the arm around your waist pulled you closer.

You yelped.

Chan groaned softly behind you, voice gravelled from sleep.

“Mm… what time is it?”

You didn’t answer. Because you didn’t know what to say.

He blinked his eyes open, peeking over your shoulder. “You okay?”

You turned to face him — slowly, hesitantly.

He looked wrecked. Hair a mess, voice hoarse, lips kiss-bruised and sleep-swollen.

Your stomach flipped.

“I’m fine,” you said. Then added, “Sore.”

He grinned — and you hated that your thighs clenched at the sight of it.

“Good sore or bad sore?”

“Chan—”

He slid his hand down to your hip, voice low.

“Because I can fix it.”

You stared at him. He wasn’t teasing. He meant it.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you whispered.

He quirked a brow. “Like what?”

“Like I’m still the same girl you— you—”

“Fucked six ways from Sunday?” he offered, smug.

Your face burned.

But then he leaned in, nuzzled his nose against yours.

And whispered: “You’re not.”

You blinked. “I’m not?”

He shook his head.

“You’re completely mine now remember?”

Your stomach flipped.

Your brain melted.

“Chan…”

“I’m serious,” he said. “Last night… that wasn’t just sex. That wasn’t just me losing my mind. That was me finally doing what I’ve wanted for months.”

You stared at him. He was serious.

“I thought this would ruin everything,” you whispered.

He tilted his head.

“And now?”

You took a breath.

And admitted it: “I don’t want to stop.”

He grinned. “I never was gonna let you.”

He pulled you into him, kissed you — slow, lazy, warm — and you melted right into his arms.

The morning didn’t feel awkward.

It didn’t feel scary.

It felt like the beginning of something new.

And then—

“I meant what I said last night, by the way,” Chan murmured against your mouth.

You blinked. “What part?”

“The part where I pin you down and fuck you like you stole from me.”

Your mouth dropped open. “You already did—”

“And the part where I cum all over your face.”

“CHRISTOPHER—”

“Just letting you know what’s on the schedule.”

You slapped his chest, flustered beyond belief.

He just laughed.

And kissed you again.

“Cum on my face, huh?”

Your voice came out soft. Dangerous.

Chan blinked. His grin froze on his lips. “…Uh-oh.”

You rolled onto him. Just like that. Bare skin on bare skin, straddling his hips while he stared up at you with those huge, still-sleepy eyes.

But sleep was over.

You rutted your hips once, slowly, deliberately—feeling the way his cock stirred between your thighs—and he made a sound.

“Y’know,” you said, sweet and sharp, “you’re not the only one with fantasies.”

His hands gripped your hips instantly. “Oh?”

“Mmhmm.” You leaned down until your mouth brushed his ear. “You’re not the only one who thinks about pinning someone down.”

He hissed.

“And I know you like control, but imagine this—” you rolled your hips again, voice turning breathy, “—imagine me riding you so hard you beg me to let you cum.”

He groaned.

“Imagine I keep going… and don’t let you. Just to see how long you last.”

“Fuck—”

“And I’ve thought about your mouth too. Not just eating me out—though, Christ—” you shuddered, “—I still don’t think i can walk right, thanks for that—”

He smirked proudly.

“But I’ve thought about your whimpers too. What you sound like when I suck you so slow you start losing your mind.”

You kissed down his chest, dragging your nails across his abs, feeling him tense and twitch beneath you.

“I wanna leave marks,” you whispered. “Wanna make you look wrecked for me.”

Chan was flushed now. Practically trembling under you.

“Baby girl,” he rasped. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You smiled.

And slid down between his legs.

“I haven’t even started.”

He wasn’t ready, but you took your time.

You teased him with your mouth first — slow licks up his shaft, tongue circling the tip, only enough suction to drive him insane. You had your hands braced on his thighs, nails biting into skin just enough to own him.

“Jesus—” he gasped, head thrown back. “You’re—fuck, that’s good—”

You moaned around him and watched his hips twitch up, his hand flying to your hair like instinct, fingers tightening in warning.

“Babe— I swear—if you keep going like this, I’m gonna—”

You pulled off right before he came.

And smirked.

“Oh, we’re doing this now?” he asked, breathless.

“Damn right we are,” you said, climbing back on top of him. “I’m getting mine now.”

You lined him up, braced yourself—

And sank down in one slow, maddening slide.

Chan’s eyes rolled back.

You didn’t even move for a full ten seconds. Just sat there, gripping his chest, clenching around him until he was panting.

And then you rode him. Like a woman possessed.

You weren’t slow. You were relentless. Skin slapping, sweat slicking your bodies together, his hands scrambling for purchase on your hips as you bounced with wild, desperate rhythm.

“Fuck—fuck— you’re insane,” he groaned.

“Say you love it,” you panted.

“I fucking love it—!”

You leaned down and bit his shoulder.

And that was it.

He flipped you over without warning, slammed back into you hard enough to rattle the headboard, and locked your wrists above your head like he had something to prove.

You moaned his name so loud it echoed.

He looked down at you — hair in his eyes, lips parted, body dripping sweat — and whispered, “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t talk.”

“Try me.”

So he did.

You lost count of how many times you came. How many times he made you scream. The sun climbed higher outside and you never even noticed.

He had you on your back.

Then on your stomach.

Then on your side with one leg thrown over his hips while he pounded into you, growling your name like a prayer he didn’t deserve to say.

And when you came again — thighs shaking, back arched, eyes fluttering — he pulled out and came all over your chest, jaw tight and groaning like it destroyed him.

You lay there for a second.

“Holy… fuck,” you breathed.

Chan flopped beside you.

“Yeah.”

Silence.

Then:

“…I want pancakes,” you whispered.

Chan turned his head, eyes still blown wide. “How the fuck are you thinking about pancakes right now?”

You smiled lazily.

“I burn calories fast.”

He groaned into the pillow.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

You rolled onto your side and kissed his cheek.

“But what a way to go.”

—

You were wearing nothing but Chan’s shirt and a pair of socks.

And it was doing things to him.

He stood at the stove, shirtless, trying to focus on flipping pancakes while you leaned over the counter, hair messy, skin glowing, humming some made-up song about how much you deserved “carbs and cuddles after all that cardio.”

“You’re just using me for my protein,” he muttered, hiding a grin.

You stretched dramatically, popping a strawberry into your mouth. “Technically, you used me for your protein.”

Chan nearly burned the pancake.

You laughed when he choked on air, stepping over to whack his back. “Careful, old man. I still need you alive for round– wait, how many rounds now?”

He turned his head, gave you a look that could scorch.

“Keep talking like that and we’re not making it to breakfast.”

You kissed his shoulder. “Then hurry up. I’m starving.”

He flipped the last pancake with a little more urgency.

A few minutes later, the two of you were at his mini kitchen table, knees brushing under the surface, your plate stacked high like a kid at a sleepover.

“You know,” you said through a mouthful of syrupy goodness, “this is dangerously close to looking like a real relationship.”

Chan froze.

You blinked. “What?”

He tilted his head. “Is that… a bad thing?”

You paused.

Fork halfway to your mouth.

“…No.”

He watched you carefully. “Because I was kinda hoping it was.”

You squinted. “Hoping it was bad?”

“No—” he laughed, raking a hand through his hair. “No, I mean—I was hoping it was a relationship. Or that it could be.”

Your heart thudded.

Hard.

“Chan…”

He looked nervous for the first time since he’d had you straddling him in bed the night before.

“I don’t wanna go back,” he said. “Not to pretending. Not to brushing this off. That’s not what last night was for me.”

You set your fork down gently.

“It wasn’t for me either.”

The tension cracked open—just a little—and he reached across the table, linking your fingers together.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he said quietly.

You nodded. “I think I have too.”

“And I know we were reckless and a little feral and probably woke my neighbors up—”

“They applauded, Chan.”

He laughed.

You smiled.

But then—his eyes softened.

And his voice turned sincere. “Can I take you out?”

Your brows lifted. “You always do”

He smirked. “Like, properly. Date you. Buy you dinner. Try to behave myself.”

You leaned your chin on your hand, pretending to think. “And if you fail miserably?”

“Then I’ll behave badly… respectfully.”

You grinned.

“Okay,” you said. “I’m in.”

He looked so genuinely happy you felt it in your bones.

You finished breakfast in a daze of syrup and laughter, tangled limbs and coffee stolen from each other’s mugs. And when he pulled you back onto the couch, wrapped around you like he couldn’t get close enough, you let him.

Because somehow, this—this—felt more dangerous than anything that happened last night.

Not because it was wild. But because it was real.

And you both knew? You were in trouble.

The best kind.

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

Authors note: GUYS!!! WE HIT 1K FOLLOWERS!!!! 🤩 wowwwww, thank you so much for always reading and indulging my delulu 😭❤️ i love you guyssssss! I think i will be doing a new series since Angry Boys did well, but ill make a poll to know what direction to go next and until then, please leave nice comments, likes and a reblog if you enjoyed this!

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @malunar28replies @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr @itvenorica124 @slut4junho @deepblueocean97 @thequibbie @yaorzu-blog @imagine-all-the-imagines @just-bria @mischievousleeknow @ifyxu @melanctton @thelostprincessofasgard @binniebb @sillylittlecat1 @darkwitchoferie @m-325 @headfirstfortoro @imseungminsgf @ihrtlix @vernorica123 @hwangjoanna @swordswallower2000 @niki007 @yxna-bliss @firelordtsuki @justwonder113 @mbioooo0000

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swanlikely · 15 days ago

Text

Current Brainrot: Drunk Reader! w/ Boyfriend Caleb!

Author's Note: I wanted to write something sweet again—him being a little overbearing but it’s cute. This is Caleb and his girl being gross and cringe, and in love, as usual. Please check out the artist! She's such a sweetie, and she's talented! (Artist & Original Post)

not proof-read! (sorry if there are any errors - let me know and I'll fix it!)

CW: AFAB!reader, pet names, possessive behavior, alcohol use (reader), slight dub-con (if you squint), suggestive ending.

Caleb is the kind of boyfriend who says, “Go have fun, baby,” and means it; but still stands posted, watching, in the corner of every bar you drag him to. He lets you dance, drink, flirt with your friends, yell-laugh at karaoke, and scream-sob over fries in the back booth like it's a sacred ritual. All while he nurses a single drink and watches you with the kind of soft-eyed amusement that says: That’s my girl. Loud, messy, gorgeous. Mine.

Anyone who looks too long gets a stare. Not a scowl; not enough to draw attention. Just a faint warning in his eyes. He doesn't interrupt, only hovers. But everyone knows you didn’t come here alone.

You catch his gaze across the bar more than once. He doesn’t budge. Just lifts his brows like, You sure? — and when you pout, he caves. Of course he does.

He doesn’t even like dancing. He just likes you.

And he follows you like it’s instinct. Loyal in that quiet, unshakable way; like a dog who’s chosen their person and never once thought of looking back. He keeps the dog tag you gave him years ago in pristine condition, always polished and shining on the chain around his neck. You joked about it once, calling it his collar.

He’d smile, fingers brushing over it absentmindedly. Like it was a privilege he never planned to take off.

Sometimes, when you’re feeling extra bratty, you'd call him your golden retriever boyfriend.

Big. Loyal. Always underfoot. Quick to roll over and give you anything you want.

He usually snorts, eyes gleaming. “I’m a Colonel, Pips, not a pet.”

“Uh-huh,” you hum, poking at his chest. “You follow me around all night, you take my boots off, you carry my bag, and you’d probably bark if I asked.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. He considered it, for a moment at least.

You pause, then snicker. “Actually, you’re more like a German shepherd.”

He just shrugs, smirking. “I bite if I have to.”

“Yeah, yeah. My big tough lapdog.” You slur as those glossy lips lifted into a grin.

That earns you a growl: low, playful, and way too pleased.

By the time he gets you home, you’re giggling at nothing and absolutely useless. Your boots are halfway off, your eyeliner is migrating to your temples, and you're swaying on your feet like the floor’s made of jelly.

But Caleb? Caleb lives for this part.

He’s all quiet efficiency now. Scoops you into the bathroom with one arm around your waist and sits you on the counter. He holds your chin with his cool metal hand as he swipes away your makeup with a cotton pad, eyes fixed on your face like you’re some precious artifact.

“You had fun tonight,” he murmurs, thumb brushing under your eye. “You look like a raccoon.”

“You love raccoons,” you grin, and he huffs a laugh.

He helps you out of your clothes next — not even in a weird way (not yet, anyway), just slow and patient, peeling off layers like you're delicate. Your socks are the last to go, and he rolls them down with that same robotic hand, his touch cold but sweet as he kisses the inside of your ankle.

He adores this. Taking care of you. Spoiling you. Making sure you never have to lift a finger if you don’t want to. You’d barely have to ask; Caleb would already be there, already doing it, like it’s wired into him.

“You’re such a sap,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut.

“Maybe,” he says, lips brushing higher up your leg. “But you’re mine.”

His voice dips on that word. Not playful. Final.

And when he presses one more kiss — higher, warmer, slower; your breath hitches just a little.

Not so drunk now, are you?

He chuckles at the look on your face. “C’mon, Pips,” he says, voice low as he leans in. “Let me tuck you in. And if you’re real good…”

His mouth brushes your ear.

“…maybe I won’t stop there.”

You barely get a breath in before his lips trail along your jaw, down your neck, unhurried like he’s tracing a map he’s already memorized. His metal hand drifts up your thigh, cool and relaxed, while his other curls behind your knee, tugging you just a little closer to the edge of the counter.

“You were drivin’ me crazy tonight,” he murmurs, and your skin begins to vibrate. He was electrifying. “Spinnin’ around like that, laughin’ like I didn’t want to drag you out of there and keep you all to myself.”

“You don’t even realize what you do to me,” you catch the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and something uniquely Caleb—clean, a little musky, and completely intoxicating. “All night, I wanted to touch you—wanted to pull you close, but I held back.”

“I was good,” he hums, voice low. “I waited. But damn, it was hard not to just… reach for you.”

There’s no teasing in it. Just that low, confessional tone he gets when he’s close to breaking. When he’s been good for too long.

“I watched you have your fun,” he says, lips brushing your sternum, “now let me have mine.”

Your head lolls back against the mirror as his tongue flicks against your skin, warm where his hand is cold, and your whole body goes pliant under his touch. He kisses down your stomach, sinking to his knees without a single word of warning, spreading your legs with a reverence that makes your pulse stutter.

“Shh,” Caleb soothes, but a shiver and a flash of heat travels through your middle.

“I’ve got you now,” he breathes, eyes half-lidded as he presses a kiss between your thighs, like a thank you. Like a promise.

“You don't have to do anything else tonight, Pips,” he whispers. “Let me take care of you.”

And he does.

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hanniebaeee · 5 months ago

Text

Pieces of Us

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: Exes to lovers, second chance love, fluff, smut

Summary: Even a year after your divorce, you can't get over Chris. You keep seeing him all the time because you're co parenting your daughter, and you see that he's still the same man you fell in love with. And you both haven't moved on at all.

It’s late. Your apartment is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator, as you sit on the sofa, nursing a glass of wine when you hear the doorbell.

You find Chris on your doorstep, punctual as usual, holding your toddler, Mia, against his chest, her small body curled into him like she’s still a newborn.

Your heart does a funny little lurch. It must be the wine. Definitely the wine.

“She fell asleep in the car,” he whispers, stepping inside. He is still dressed in his formals, and your traitorous eyes drink him in.

“Rough day?” he asks softly, noting the wine and the way your shoulders sag.

“Something like that,” you mutter, gesturing to Mia’s room. “You can put her to bed.”

Chris nods, carrying her toward her bedroom. He emerges moments later, quietly shutting her door behind him. His gaze locks onto yours, dark and a little too comforting.

“What happened?” he asks, folding his arms against his chest.

“It’s nothing,” you say, but Chris raises an eyebrow.

“Bullshit,” he counters smoothly, sitting next to you on the sofa. “You know you can't lie to me.”

You roll your eyes but relent and say, “Work politics. Same old garbage.”

Chris winces, before he leans forward and says, “You’re too good for them, you know that, right?”

Those are simple words, but they hit harder than they should. You glance at him, something raw flickering in your chest.

“Oh please,” you murmur, looking away.

“What?” He asks. “It’s true.”

You don’t answer, reaching instead for the bottle of wine. Chris doesn’t stop you as you pour a second glass.

“Here, celebrate my failures with me,” you tease, trying to ease your own heart. “I don't feel like wallowing in self pity alone tonight.”

He snorts, shaking his head, but takes the glass.

“You're so dramatic,”

“And yet, you were married to me for five years,” you quip, with a grin.

The wine loosen you both faster than it should. Soon, you’re reminiscing about Mia’s first words, and the road trip to Busan where the car broke down, and you ended up making out in the car till Minho came to rescue you both.

“I miss this,” you admit quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Talking...and everything,”

You and Chris had been good friends before you both fell in love. It had been the most beautiful years of your life before things started falling apart.

He doesn’t say anything, but reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. It’s subtle, but it sets your heart racing. Like always. Even a year after your divorce, you clearly haven't moved on.

“I miss it too,” he finally says, his voice low. “All the time.”

“Please don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” you mumble.

He leans in, closer than he’s been in a more than year, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

“You think I don’t mean it? You think I ever stopped wanting you?”

Your breath catches as he closes the distance between you. His lips hover inches from yours as he says, “I never stopped…”

It’s reckless, stupid, maybe even a mistake - but you don’t care. You let him close the gap, his lips crashing into yours, and everything you’ve been holding back spills over.

The kiss is messy and heated - all the pent-up frustration and longing coming crashing down. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and you melt against him, your arms circling his neck. His lips move against yours desperately, like he is afraid to let go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and a little lost, Chris brushes a thumb over your cheek.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whisper.

“No. But it’s a start.”

It’s intoxicating - the feel of him, the heat radiating off his body. You both pull each other close again, his lips moving down your neck, leaving soft kisses.

But somewhere in between, reality raises its nagging head and you falter.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back slightly.

Chris freezes, his breathing ragged, as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“This is… reckless,” you whisper, though your heart won't allow you to let go of him.

He exhales sharply, leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. “Y/N, I -”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your voice trembling. “I don't want us to mess up again.”

He gives you a look and you think he might argue. But then he sighs. He looks exhausted and a little heart broken. But he stands up and says, “You’re right. We can’t… not like this.”

“You have to go.” You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

He stares at you for a long moment, then he nods.

“Right. I’ll… I��ll call tomorrow to check on Mia.” he says, clearing his throat.

You nod, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. Because this feels even harder than the first time.

“Goodnight, Chris.” you whisper.

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice rough.

As soon as he’s gone, the tears you’ve been holding back spill over. You sink onto the couch, your face in your hands, and you cry until your throat is raw. You missed him. And you still hate yourself for letting this happen.

It starts with a look. It always does.

The next time Chris comes by, it’s late again, Mia’s tiny backpack slung over his shoulder, and her hand clutching his tightly as they walk to your door. You try to play it cool, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed and a polite smile fixed on your face.

But then he looks at you and the air shifts.

“Hi,” he says, his voice lower than it needs to be, his gaze lingering on your mouth.

“Hi,” your voice shakes but it's soft.

Mia is already running into her room, way too excited to get to her new playset, and Chris watches her for a moment, before his gaze settles on you.

And then there are no words exchanged as his hands grab you towards him and he's pushing you against the kitchen counter, kissing you.

You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand slips down your back, cupping your butt before pulling you flush against himself.

“Is this going to keep happening?” you ask breathlessly, as he kisses down your neck. Past your collarbone. Down your chest. His face is buried in your breasts, before he kisses them over your t-shirt.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding on to him, and you gasp as he bites your nipple over the fabric and a dull pleasure courses through your body.

“What?” he murmurs, his lips back on yours again.

“This,” you say between kisses.

He kisses you again, rougher than before and says,

“Tell me to stop,” he says, and his hands cup your cheeks, gazing into your eyes.

You don’t. You can’t. Instead, you pull him closer, your bodies so familiar with each other.

It becomes a pattern after that. Anytime he comes over - whether he’s dropping off Mia or picking her up - it happens.

Sometimes it’s rushed and frantic, like the time he cornered you in the kitchen, your lips colliding as the coffee maker sputtered in the background. And other times, it’s slow and sweet. Especially when he knows you're a bit down or you're having a bad day.

You don’t talk about it. It’s easier to pretend this is just an outlet, a way to scratch the itch that never seems to fade.

You tell yourself this is only because he's the only man you've been with for so damn long. You two had married so young. You hate thinking about it.

So you don't. But deep down, you know it’s more than just sex. But you’re not ready to acknowledge it. Neither is he.

Friday evenings with Minho are sacred. He's your best friend, your big brother, your pillar of support. The one person who held you up during your separation from Chris. The only person who knows that you still loved him with everything in you.

Minho brings take out, you both talk, watch a movie, sometimes two. And fall asleep on each other because obviously, you both were the laziest besties in the world.

You've been trying to tell Chris to leave, but he is busy pounding into you. You stand with your hands grips the kitchen counter as he thrust into you from the back, his hands holding onto your hips tightly.

“He's gonna be here any minute!” You hiss, and Chris moves faster, and more rough. You try not to moan as waves of pleasure hit you, and you clench so hard around him, he's shuddering with his release.

“Fuck-” He groans, pressing his face against the back of your neck before slowly pulling out of you.

You both clean up and look somewhat presentable when the doorbell rings. You sigh because Minho will see right through you.

And he won't let you live this down. Ever.

You glance at Chris before opening the door. And Minho steps in already ranting about his day and he stops in his tracks when his eyes land on Chris.

Well that's a first - Minho being at a loss of words.

You freeze, your cheeks burning, while Chris awkwardly shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Hi, Minho,” Chris says, giving him a quick nod.

Minho doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks between the two of you, his lips twitching in amusement, before slowly smirking.

“Hey, Chris.” Then, he strolls further inside saying, “Don’t mind me. I'm just here for my niece.”

He disappears into the living room, leaving you and Chris standing there like a couple of teenagers caught doing something bad.

“I should, uh, get going,” he says, though he doesn’t move.

“Right, yeah,” you stammer, smoothing your hands over your skirt nervously.

“See you on Sunday,” he says, opening the door.

“See you,” you manage, your heart racing again, and Chris flashes you a smile before leaving.

The moment the door shuts, Minho reappears, a wicked grin plastered across his face.

“Soooo…”

“Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting,” he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “You’re clearly fucking Chris freaking Bang and you want me to not start?”

“Minho,” you warn, making a beeline for the living room, and he follows you with that menacing grin still in place.

“So, when exactly did this ‘we’re just co-parents’ arrangement turn into ‘we’re fuck buddies again’?”

“It’s not like that!” you protest, though your face feels like it’s on fire.

“Uh-huh.” He says, starting to plate up the food. “You two were totally not flushed and guilty. Try again.”

You bury your face in a throw pillow.

“Linooooo stopppp!! It’s complicated.” you whine.

“It always is with you two,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You’re like Ross and Rachel, except somehow more frustrating.”

You peek out from behind the pillow, glaring at him.

“We’re not -”

“Don’t even think about saying you’re not into him,” Minho interrupts, pointing his chopsticks at you. “I know you, Y/N.”

You open your mouth to argue but immediately close it, because he's stating the obvious and there is no real use of denying it.

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to jump your ex-husband, at least warn me so I can avoid walking into it.” Minho smirks, leaning back smugly.

You groan, throwing the pillow at him. He dodges it easily, laughing as you sink further into the couch, hands covering your face.

“Seriously, though,” he says after a moment, his tone softening. “Are you okay? I mean, this whole Chris thing… are you sure about this?”

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know. I love him, Minho, and I swear I tried to move on…but, everytime I look at him…he's the same person I fell in love with. He's not a monster. He's a great father. He's a good friend. And.. and I don't even know why…” Your voice cracks a bit as you struggle with your thoughts. “Then we talked, and it’s like… like nothing’s changed. But everything has changed, and it’s so… messy.”

“Messy’s okay. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. Whether that’s with Chris or someone else.” he says softly. “If you're sure, then go for it.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to be honest with Chris. To let go of the pride and the fear and just… try again. Because God, you really want to.

Sunday arrives, and Mia is up early, ready for her day with her daddy. She even picks out her favorite toy to take along with her and insists on wearing the sparkly dress she knows Chris loves.

When Chris texts, you think it's to let you know that he's on his way. But it wasn't.

Chris: Hey, something came up. Can we reschedule Mia’s time for today?

You blink at it for a moment, heart sinking slightly. You don’t question it - life happens, after all. But Mia doesn’t take it as well.

“Daddy’s not coming?” she asks, her lower lip trembling and her little shoulders slump in disappointment.

You kneel down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

“No, sweetheart. He’s just busy today, but we’ll see him soon. How about we have a girls' day instead?”

She looks up at you with big tear filled eyes.

“Girls' day? With Mommy?” she asks, and you nod, pulling her into a tight hug.

“That’s right. Just you and me. Let’s make it special.” You say, kissing her cheek and getting on with it.

You spend the afternoon indulging in ice cream, shopping for new art supplies, and of course, toys. You also take her to an indoor play area that she loves, and by the time you get home, Mia is falling asleep in your arms.

You carry her to her room, tuck her into bed, and she’s out within minutes. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you step out of her room.

The apartment falls into a quiet, peaceful lull. You wash up quickly and sit in front of the TV, hoping to watch an episode of that show you've been trying to watch for a while now. It's not exactly easy with a toddler around.

But around fifteen minutes into the show, you hear the sound of the doorbell. You open the door, and there stands Chris, holding a small box in his hand.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, as he meets your gaze. “I'm sorry about today. I brought her favorite cupcakes.”

Your heart does a little flip at the sight of him.

“That’s sweet of you.” you say, “But she's already asleep.”

“Oh…I was hoping to see her before....ah,” Chris says with a little sigh.

You give him a small, sympathetic shrug.

“It's okay, she can eat them tomorrow,” You say with a smile and step aside to let him in.

He nods, stepping inside and setting the box of cupcakes on the kitchen counter. There’s disappointment in his eyes and it stirs something deep inside you.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he says, and it feels like he’s apologizing for more than just missing his day with Mia.

“It’s really okay. Mia missed you, but we still had a good day. She was really happy.” you tell him.

Chris’s gaze lingers on you a moment too long before he says,“I feel like I keep letting you both down.”

“Chris, please don't say that,” you reply, giving him a small smile. “We know you’re doing your best. I know you’re trying.”

He nods, though he doesn't look completely convinced.

“So,” you say, trying to keep it light, “I’m about to have dinner… want to join me?”

It’s an innocent enough invitation. Casual. Polite. But the way he looks at you gives you an idea of what's about to happen next.

Chris takes a step forward, his hand gently cupping your cheek, and then his lips are on yours. The kiss deepens almost instantly and he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together.

You stifle a sob, and Chris is quickly pulling back to look at you, tipping your chin up to see you better.

“Baby, please don't-”

“I love you-”

There is a moment of silence - Chris's eyes soften as he watches the tears fall. You can't believe you just said that. But this whole thing was getting more and more difficult to manage. The constant need to be close to him. Waiting for the days he spent with Mia, just so you could see him.

And then he's kissing you again, mumbling a hundred ‘I love yous’ you against your lips, and the next thing you know, he's scooping you up in his arms and carrying you towards your bedroom.

He closes the door gently (so that it doesn't wake Mia), and places you on the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you on the floor.

“Baby, I never stopped loving you. And there isn't a day where I don't regret letting you walk out of my life… we could've handled things better…and everytime I came here for Mia, I wished you would just ask me to stay. I selfishly wished that you wouldn't move on.” he says, his voice soft and his touch even softer as he placed his hands on your knees.

“I don't think I can ever love anyone like I love you. If you give me another chance, I promise I'll not let you down. I'll spend every day of the rest of my life proving to you that you're my everything… and I will be here for you, always.”

You nod and tears falling more rapidly now, and throw your arms around Chris's neck, and he wraps his arms around your waist, his face pressing against your neck as he holds you close.

“I love you, baby I'm sorry-” You cry, your arms tightening around him. “I didn't know what to do…the baby, the job, there was so much noise, and I wasn't well…I'm sorry I didn't see that you were suffering too-” you hiccup through your tears.

You feel his hand moving up and down your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“I know baby, I'm not mad. We were both suffering. We were both hurt. But we're here now.” Chris whispers.

“I love you, I want you back. Please don't leave me again-”

Chris kisses you again, stealing your breath away.

“No more crying over me ok?” He says with a soft smile. “I'm not going anywhere…I love you and Mia so much, I am going to be here-”

More kisses follow and you move back into the bed, and he follows, both of you pulling at each other's clothes.

He trails his lips down your neck, and it feels like the world outside your bedroom might as well not exist. His hands glide over your skin, gentle, but just as desperate.

You can feel the way he trembles against you, the way his breath catches as your hands move down his chest. And then when he slips inside, as gentle as ever, you can't help but cry, because as beautiful as the moment feels, you realize just how miserable you have been without him.

Chris moves slowly at first, and you close your eyes as the pleasure builds. He peppers so many kisses on your lips and neck, like he can't kiss you enough.

His fingers work on your clit as he moves, and soon your body shudders as your orgasm ripples through you. You moan softly, and it obviously has him crashing down too.

You don't let go, because truth be told, you're afraid he's going to leave. And tonight? You don't want him to. Actually, you don't want to see him walk out that door ever again.

And Chris isn't planning to, because he holds you just as tight, promising softly that he'll be here when you wake up in the morning. And you let your eyes fall shut, trusting him.

You both decide to take it slow, for Mia's sake.

Chris doesn’t officially move in, yet, but his presence is…undeniable. There are more of his things around the house, and more than anything else, it's the way Mia’s laughter grows louder every time he walks through the door. You’ve caught yourself smiling more too - wide, genuine smiles you hadn’t worn in ages.

You love watching him help Mia with her bedtime routine, fixing squeaky hinges around the house you’ve ignored for months, and finding every excuse to stay a bit longer.

And Minho? Well, he’s having the time of his life.

---

One Friday evening, you’re all gathered in the living room. Chris is helping Mia build a tower with her blocks while you sip wine and half-listen to Minho’s dramatic story about his latest “date gone wrong.”

“And then she said she didn’t like cats. Cats, Y/N. Can you imagine the nerve?” Minho says, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks as he digs into the takeout he insisted on bringing.

“Oh my God” you say, laughing as Chris adds, “Sounds horrible, but maybe try not to bring home every stray you find?”

“Don’t think I don’t see you trying to steal my best friend away. Again.” Minho narrows his eyes, pointing at Chris.

“Jealous, Minho?” Chris quips, and Minho scoffs, leaning back dramatically.

“Of you? Please.” Minho says. “But whatever this setup is, it's sure looks promising.”

You freeze mid-sip of your wine, while Chris raises an eyebrow.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“I’m just saying, for exes, you two sure look cozy.” Minho grins, and your cheeks burn, as you try not to look at Chris.

“Minho…” you warn.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m rooting for you,” Minho says, winking before turning back to Mia. “Besides, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll adopt Mia. Because you two are idiots. And we're done dealing with you. Sorry, not sorry.”

Mia giggles at the mention of her name before getting back to her game.

---

Later that night, after Minho has left (eyeing you mischievously because Chris was still there) and Mia is asleep, you and Chris are clearing up the kitchen.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, “Minho isn’t wrong.”

“About what?” You ask, glancing at him, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

“About us. About this.” Chris says, leaning against the counter and folding his arms.

Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at him, watching him push off the counter and walk towards you.

The towel slips from your hands as his fingers brush against your cheek, and his lips land on yours.

It’s slow at first, warm and tender, but it doesn’t take long for it to snap and you're both pulling each other closer. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your body responding to his touch like it always has.

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath.

“I love you,” he says, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I love you too,” you admit, and he smiles, his dimples making an appearance and your heart races as you reach up to run your fingers over it.

He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring every second of it. And at that moment, this doesn't really feel like a second chance.

It’s the beginning of everything you’ve ever wanted.

The smell of pancakes fills the house as sunlight filters through the kitchen windows. Chris stands at the stove, a spatula in one hand, flipping golden-brown pancakes onto a plate. He’s wearing his usual gray shorts and a fitted black T-shirt. His hair is messy, a sign that he’s only been up for about twenty minutes, and he’s humming softly to himself as he works.

Mia sits at the table, still in her pajamas, happily coloring into a giant coloring book. This is such a dream. You lean against the counter, sipping your coffee, watching Chris with a faint smile that you haven’t been able to shake since he stayed over last night.

For the first time… in a very long time.

And then, the doorbell rings. You frown, setting down your coffee.

“Expecting someone?” He asks and you shake your head, walking to the door and opening it to find your mum standing there, a purse slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face.

“Mum?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Surprise, sweetheart!” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. Wanted to see my girls, and I brought muffins!”

She holds up a bakery bag, grinning, then stops dead in her tracks.

Her gaze falls on Chris, who’s just turned around from the stove, spatula still in hand, his expression frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh,” your mom says.

There's silence for a second before Mia screeches, “Grandmaaaaaaaa!!!”

Your mum picks Mia up, pressing a kiss to her cheek before asking if she could play in her room for sometime. Mia pouts, but runs off with a muffin.

Her eyes narrow slightly, taking in how casual Chris looks, his messy hair, and the way he just seems to be part of the scene.

“Good morning, mum,” Chris says smoothly, recovering faster than you could've thought.

He smiles, dimples flashing, as he asks, “Pancakes?”

Your mum raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying his innocent act. She folds her arms, looking at you.

“Y/N… what’s going on here?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you start, suddenly feeling like a child again.

“Mhm.” She gives you a look that says she doesn’t believe you for a second. “You’re telling me it’s normal for your ex-husband to be in your kitchen, making pancakes, looking like he just rolled out of bed?”

“Technically, I did just roll out of bed,” Chris says, unable to resist.

You shoot him a glare, but he has already turned back to the stove, hiding a smirk.

“Y/N?” Your mom’s eyes narrow further.

“It’s… kind of...,” you say finally, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Yes?” she prompts, looking from you to Chris and then back at you. You think she's going to give you a nice big lecture about responsibility. But she lets out a sigh, her posture softening.

“You know,” she says, her tone gentler now, “I always thought the two of you were good for each other. When you got divorced, I was shocked and devastated - for you, for Mia.” She pauses, her eyes locking with yours. “But if you’re giving this another try… I just want to make sure you’re happy, sweetheart. That you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

“I know I messed up before. I know I hurt your daughter. But I love her. I always have, and I’m doing everything I can to show her - and Mia - that I’m here to stay. I realize that I need them more than they need me…so yeah,”

Your mum’s gaze softens as she studies him, and then she looks at you.

“And you, Y/N? Are you happy?”

You glance at Chris, who’s watching you with that steady loving gaze that’s always made you feel safe and sure, and you nod.

“Yeah, Mum. I am.”

Your mom smiles, stepping forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Well, then. I suppose I’ll have to stick around for breakfast. Those pancakes smell amazing.”

Chris grins and gets back to work, and your mum nods, making her way in to properly greet her granddaughter again.

Just as she disappears, Chris slides up beside you, his hand brushing yours as you start setting the table for breakfast.

“That went better than expected,” he murmurs, his voice low.

“You’ve always been her favorite, you know.” You glance at him, your lips twitching into a smile.

He smirks, leaning in just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Good to know I still am.” He pecks your lips quickly before getting back to work.

You roll your eyes, but your smile lingers as your mum comes back with Mia in her arms. And you all sit around the table and enjoy breakfast.

It’s chaotic and imperfect, but it's home. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything is exactly where it’s meant to be. All the scattered pieces of you finally fit.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

#stray kids #skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut

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willyoubemycherryy · 1 month ago

Text

No Guidance (Stack.M x R)

Summary: You’re just getting to the good part.

Contains: Flirting, some smut, Mary slander, cursing, everyone has a southern accent, platonic smoke with reader, a little dancing, MARY SLANDER, and I don’t care I don’t fucking like her, this is for the _ strictly for the _, kissing, making out, a hint of manhandling, established relationship, choking, allusions to sex and one brief flashback of some impact play, Michael B Jordan fine as hell, fine enough to bring me out of retirement

-There’s just not enough mindless smut of sinners, almost no x reader bc they’re all OC 😔 and please tell me how we feel about the daddy thing bc Stack screams daddy kink and in the next part👀…

A/N: act like I’ve been here the whole time.

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉

“Uh-uh. We not doin’ none of that. Not tonight. Get ta steppin’”.

You level a look at the pale woman standing in the doorway, raising an eyebrow when she crosses her arms- fixing you with a glare of her own. She really was lucky you 50 percent Christian- otherwise, you’d have turned her every way but inside out.

It was no surprise that Mary was there- given her history with Elias or “Stack”. Of course she’d come running the minute she heard he was back in town along with his brother and cousin…but running to where? Not up in here.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere cause I have business in there.” Mary points the loud crowded space behind you and you push your shoulder from off the side of the doorway. You knew all about Mary. You may have empathized a little with her but you damn sure didn’t like her. She was the past in a future that needed her gone in order to make it and her refusal in understanding that irked you immensely. To you, she was selfish- plain and simple.

“You also ‘bout to have a foot up yo ass because the only business in there is the one my man is tendin’ to and you can’t possibly be talkin’ ‘bout him?” You pose it like a question but you leave no room for debate in your voice.

She was there for Stack. She wasn’t getting Stack.

Your question was met with a scoff but otherwise silence. Mmhm. That’s what you thought. Stepping back, you get ready to close the door since you were not about to stand and argue with Mary all night; fixing her with the same ugly glare she always gives you before leaning down to whisper in her face,

“Go be a good bitch and find a new master or I’ll be the one to walk you.”

Slamming the door with a satisfied grin, you turn around to go find a friend of yours and ask her to watch the door. It took some convincing since she was the strict one out of your group but it had to be her because as much as you love the twins and trust their judgment (mostly), Cornbread could not be the one to watch the door the entire night. After agreeing that you’ll owe her one, you leave to grab a drink of your own and judging by the look on Smoke’s face as you pass him- you didn’t look happy.

“Ooh. Who did it?” He drawls out as his eyebrows draw together in a slight frown. He knew about his brother and Mary’s sordid past because of course he did but he also knew how you and Stack have been since day 1.

He still remembers the day they met you…barefoot and sass-mouthed serving drinks at your mommas little dive bar.

“Aww twins~ Wait-! don’t tell me! Y’all gots ta be Double and Trouble!” Laughing like a hyena until your mama threw a spoon from the kitchen and you ducked- smacking your teeth before hurrying off to get their liquor.

That was it.

A pretty young server and good malt..until they came back for another couple rounds one night and you were still barefoot but this time, you wasn’t serving no drinks. Instead, you were standing in the middle of the room singing with a voice so sweet and strong that it rang through their head for the rest of the night. Smoke saw an amazing gift. Stack had seen a gift and something more…

“Just some go-go flour ranger. Nobody important.” Damn. Smoke winces with a soft hum at the insult yet knowing exactly who you mean. You always were creative with your insults- never missing in hitting where it hurt. Taking a deep breath, the beat of the music temps up and he passes you your drink and you sip at it, nodding along to the music as you start to loosen up. Tonight wasn’t the night and neither were any of the others. Tonight was supposed to be the continuation of their new pages turning- and that meant the end of whatever beef was between you, Mary, and his brother.

Smoke watches you start to move and raises a brow; broad smile growing across his face, making his dimples pop out as something comes to him.

“You gon’ sing a lil sum’ for us?”

Reaching out, he takes your hand to twirl you with a soft grin and you let go afterwards to fake think for a bit. Sammy currently had the floor and he was doing great plus…you sorta had other plans for the night. Smoke huffs a laugh, noticing that glint in your eyes- the one you got when you were fixing to get a kick out of causing trouble.

“Ohh, I get it. You in a just dancin’ mood tonight, huh?”

You get another drink and finish that one quick before nodding slowly before moving closer with a grin.

“Smoke, y’know, I neva’ woulda pegged you as a dancin’ man but if you’re offering-“,

“Oh nah baby, he ain’t but I am.”

The low words are whispered against the shell of your ear with a heat that sends shivers licking up your spine. Big, familiar hands fit themselves on your shoulders while Stack dips his head lower to press soft, full lips against your throat- directly over your pulse point and your heart jumps; you barely holding back a gasp. You look at the space where Smoke had been standing before he made himself scarce with a lighthearted “don’t wear y’selves out” and try to gather yourself, turning in Stack’s arms to face him.

Lidded, mellow chocolate eyes focused on you with plump lips pulled up in a smirk framed by dimples greet you and you roll your eyes. Shaking your head lightly as you swallow a whine.

There really was such thing as being too fine and Stack was proof. Strong hands glide themselves further down your sides, settling on the space just above your ass, never taking his eyes off yours and the intensity of him sparks something inside you.

“Been lookin’ for ya. Shoulda known yous’ somewhere in here causin’ trouble, hmm?”

It’s a lot warmer than you remember it being a couple minutes ago but no matter how deep you inhale, it doesn’t go away. That’s when you realize that the room hasn’t gotten any hotter than it’s already been.

But you have.

Your mouth barely opens to retort before Stack’s is covering it completely with his- slow, consuming and so deep. You truly can’t help the way you melt into him. Heart pounding with adrenaline and something much more tantalizing at the way Stack leads, plush lips firm against yours as you suckle at each others mouths. You only had two drinks but you already feel drunk; senses heightened and so sensitive that you’re borderline vibrating. Blood flowing through your system with a searing rush.

Stack harshly sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and your pulse drops like a boulder into the lava pooling in your lower stomach; sending waves ricocheting through your body before licking deep into your own just in time to muffle the nasty little moans threatening to slip out while his tongue memorizes every inch of your mouth and the pleasure has you on the way to out of your mind and he knows it.

You were unyielding to everyone and everything else except him and Stack used that to his advantage each and every time. He’d always been good at getting people to listen to him but the way you gave into him was the sweetest thing he’d come to know. From the way your doe eyes would get wide whenever he’d say or do something that set you off and you’d find yourself wanting him- to the way you were purring and sighing like a cat now, snuggling your soft pretty self tight against him while he devoured your mouth; lips smacking hungrily against yours.

By the time you two separate, his hand is a little too close to your throat and you suddenly want everyone to go home.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that baby. 'Else I might think we have a problem.” Stack drags his lips from the corner of your lips to your cheek, rasping lowly into your ear and you whine in frustration, shifting in his hold.

“And what if we do?”

The hand that was at first only close to your neck, slides up to wrap around it. Loose enough but heavy like a collar and you go dizzy from how hard your cunt throbs, biting your swollen lip as you bat pretty lashes up at him.

Now, Stack learned early that you had a thing for sass-mouthing. You, learned quickly that Stack didn’t have much patience for being sass-mouthed. So if there was something you wanted from him, you learned the first time he spanked your ass raw while being stuffed with three of his thick fingers but nothing else- to ask for it real nice and polite. Your tone though, would be the death of you.

“Then I’m sure we can come to an agreement”, his hand squeezes quick before releasing as he presses another hard kiss to your lips, “Right baby?” You nod before you can stop yourself, body roaring with molten need and you blurt out,

“Tell everyone to go home.”

A surprised bark of laughter shoots from his chest and he raises an amused brow as he looks down at you.

“C’mon, you know I can’t. We just opened this place a few weeks ago, mamas. Gotta break it in.” You throw your head back with a groan, rolling your eyes as you mumble under your breath.

“Wish you’d break me in…”

“Huh?”

“What?”

You ask back just as fast and Stack whistles lowly, shaking his head before dragging you in by your throat so close that you’re standing between his legs. He drops his forehead against yours and just takes a couple seconds to look at you- breathe you in before he has you begging for the better half of the night.

“Nah, what was that?”

“What was what?” You could play dumb with the best of em. Grinning innocently like you had all the time in the world to play your games and Stack was all too ready to play with you. Especially when he knew he’d win.

“You gon’ make me get it outta you, pretty girl?”

Your heart skips a beat and he notices your eyes doing the thing when you answer:

“If you think you can then go ahead.”

Stack nods slowly, moving his hand off your throat to take your hand instead. Rising to his full height, he leads you up to the office of the joint, guiding you in first then closing the door behind you both with a click and makes his way towards you.

His stride reminds you a lot of a predator getting ready to jump on their prey and you only hope that you’re left shaking afterwards…

Part 2🫶🏽

-p.s. can y’all guess who’s next?

Another note- agree or disagree about Mary in the comments but be respectful to one another. I delete comments and block people so chill and type accordingly.

#sinners #sinners 2025 #sinners movie #sinners x reader #sinners smut #sinners stack #smoke and stack #stack x reader #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x reader #elias moore x reader #elias moore #elias stack moore #elias stack moore x reader #stack smut

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bruhstories · 1 month ago

Text

touch-starved

summary: dante is touch-starved, and he thinks the only way for him to feel something is to get punched by you

pairing: dante x afab!reader | based on the netflix version but definitely canon divergent

warnings: dry humping, unprotected p in v, creampie, degradation kink, very light choking, lots of swearing, kind of soft dom dante and light pain kink if you squint, idiots in love, friends to lovers, bit of praise, fem bodied reader

w/c: ~3.2k

a/n: this is definitely not my best work but it's a warm up ig. lol anyway i absolutely loved the dmc netflix version, and i'm considering getting the games

"Punch me."

Not a question, but an indisputable demand coming from the demon hunter, which made you do a double take, place the barrel of your M4 carbine on the table, and flat-out refuse.

"No."

He snarled, yes, snarled at you, slamming his pistol against the table with a loud bang. You looked up from your own weapon, taken aback by Dante's reaction, concern written all over your face. Was he high??

"Come on, Y/N, just do it. Just one punch, one tiny little punch. I know you want to." His cocky grin did numbers on your nerves, but you still refrained from giving him the satisfaction of hitting him. It’s been years since you met Dante, by this point you were used to his shenanigans.

"Why, though?" You decided to focus on cleaning your weapon, the sharp smell of isopropyl alcohol filling the room.

"Because," Dante groaned, snatching the bottle of liquid from you, causing you to glare daggers at him, "I'm touch starved."

You blinked once, twice, trying your hardest to process both his honesty, and the logistics of his request.

"Why not ask for a hug, then? Or, I don't know, go to therapy?"

"Hah! I'm sure my therapist is gonna have a field day with me! So, my dad, a demon, disappeared without a trace, then my mother and twin brother died, but actually my brother is alive somewhere. My therapist is gonna need a therapist."

"Okay, okay, you made your point. Still, you could just rephrase it. Maybe leave out the demon bit." You wiped the barrel clean before setting it aside.

"I'd rather get punched. Now, please."

"Dante, a punch isn’t gonna solve it. Are you sure you don’t want a hug? I could cook you something. Or we could grab a few beers and watch a movie, or talk about your feelings." You shrugged.

Both of you had done this before — went out for drinks, danced, cooked together, fell asleep together — it was so intimate, almost like you were a couple. But the reality was that you weren’t. Not by a long shot. Unfortunately for you, Dante was protective of you in the way an older brother was. You thought that, perhaps, he missed Vergil so much that you were the closest thing he had to a sibling in years.

"A punch would be less time consuming. Cooome on, babe, just hit me!"

You hated when he called you babe. He called other girls babe, girls that were hot, pretty, girls that were his type, and it was the nickname that made you clench your jaw and purse your lips.

"Ugh, fine!" You sat up, rotated your wrist and flexed your fingers. "Are you sure this is going to help in any way?"

"Positive. Right here." Dante pointed at his cheek.

"What, in your face?"

"You're stalling."

Without a single ounce of hesitation you swung your arm, hitting the demon hunter square in his face, but it caused you more pain than it did him, and you stumbled back, holding your fist in your other hand.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" You cried out in pain, knowing damn well that would happen. Still, you couldn't say no to him. Ever.

"Are you okay?" Dante was visibly concerned — a rare sight since he was always cool and edgy, even when his own life was in danger.

"Fuck no! Feels like I punched a brick wall!" You practically growled at him, gaze quickly softening when you saw the pure look of terror in his eyes. "But hey, nothing a little ice can't fix, right?"

"Right." He nodded and got up, making a beeline for the freezer.

There was no ice in it, but there was a pack of frozen peas somewhere at the bottom of a drawer, which Dante picked up and brought to you. When you reached for it, he, instead, took your sore hand in his, gently pressing the cold legumes onto your knuckles. You winced, instinctively trying to retract your hand, but he held it in place, his fingers wrapped around your wrist to stop you from backing away.

The pain wasn't gone, but it was becoming bearable, and a relieved murmur escaped past your lips, one that sounded closer to a moan than a sigh. Dante's cheeks burned, tinted red with embarrassment and arousal because you were yet another girl in his life who just didn't want to be involved romantically with him. Not that he tried anything with you, because he always thought you deserved better. Sure, he was cocky and flirtatious, but he wasn't a dick. If no one reciprocated the flirting, he didn't push his luck. It was simple. And he wasn’t the type who did one-night stands, despite the rumours. Dante enjoyed having a connection to the people he took to bed, he became sexually attracted to those he knew on a deeper emotional level. But sometimes, when he was really, truly desperate, he would download Tinder and hook up with random girls.

And he reeked of desperation.

"Dante, you can let go of my hand now." You told him, part of you hoping he wouldn't.

Who could blame you? He was an objectively attractive man, with a charming smile and a body sculpted by the gods themselves. Why would he ever want to get involved with you? Dante was your opposite — he talked, he sang, he danced, he was obnoxious. You were quiet, most of the time, and shy. In fact, when he first met you, he thought you had some form of speech impediment, with your nose in Boccaccio’s The Decameron, a book you stole from the public library because you were much too young to read. That’s when knew you were trouble, just like him.

"Yeah, of course." Dante stepped back. "How's your hand?"

"Better. How are you feeling?"

"Me? Why are you asking?"

"Hello?" You scrunched your nose and frowned. "You wanted me to punch you because you were touch-starved. Did it help?"

"I'll be honest, it felt more like a tickle than anything." He shrugged. "Are you sure you didn't pull your punch?"

There it was, the one thing that turned you from an introvert to a bat-shit crazy bitch — his stupid little mouth that he opened without ever thinking.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're telling me I risked breaking my bones so you could feel better, only for you to not feel anything? I swear to fucking God, Dante, this is the last time I'm doing anything nice for you."

"Nice? You punched me!" He threw his hands up in exasperation, while your blood boiled inside of you, sending you into a blind rage.

"You asked me to punch you, you maniac! You should've fucked me instead!"

Your eyes widened at the sentence that came out of your mouth without a single thought, mortified at your own stupidity.

"Hugged. I meant hugged. Shit."

"No, no, hold up, you didn't say hugged." Dante tilted his head, one hand rubbing his chin. "Isn't that called a Freudian slip?"

"I- well- how the fuck do you even know what a Freudian slip is?" You tried changing the subject but he didn't bite.

"Google." He closed the gap between the two of you, and for the first time you felt intimidated by him. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

The bluntness of his question, coupled with the sudden change in the pitch of his voice made you feel like a cornered prey. There was no possible way he was serious. But he wasn't wrong — the nature of your jobs made it impossible for either of you to have partners, and besides, you've known each other for years. It was only natural that some form of physical attraction would have developed between you two, right? But why you? Why now? And the worst of all your questions, why not?

You didn’t want to think about how this would ruin almost a decade of friendship. All you could think about was the look of pure lust in his eyes as he held your gaze, and how months upon months of sexual frustrations accumulated inside of you, bubbling and boiling and exploding when you dropped the pack of peas on the floor.

"Yes. I want you to fuck me."

Without a sliver of hesitation, you felt him pick you up with ease, hands roaming up and down his back as he slammed you down onto the table, desperately pushing away all the guns and knives. How thoughtful of him. Your hands slithered under his blood red coat while he tugged at your t-shirt, pulling it over your head to expose your bare breasts to him.

"No bra? Kinky." Dante stopped to take a better look at you.

"Stop talking." You firmly told him, but the chuckle that erupted from your throat betrayed you.

He was the one person you felt most comfortable around, so much so that you didn't feel weirded out by him pressing his lips onto your neck, or his fingertips bruising the plush of your hips, or his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples. No, it felt natural, too natural, like your skin was made to be touched by him.

With his coat on the floor, you tackled his shirt, effectively tearing it off of him because you were just as desperate as he was, and Dante pulled your body closer to his, your clothed cunt accidentally rubbing against the bulge in his trousers. You were aching from the lack of sex, and you uncontrollably moaned at the tiny bit of friction before mumbling a weak 'sorry.'

"Fuck, don't be. That's actually kind of hot." He shamelessly admitted, and you rose a brow.

"Yeah? Then you wouldn't mind me doing it again?" You chewed on your lower lip, but he could see past the fake innocence when you rolled your hips, frantically and feverishly rubbing your clit through the layers of fabric. "Shit, I could come just from this."

For a split second, Dante wondered if this was all real. What happened to your shyness? How was it possible that his best friend, the quiet, nerdy girl he'd known for such a long time, was worse than any demon he'd ever encountered? Not that he was a saint. Far from it, because when you threw your head back, desperate to climax, his is eyes darkened, black seeping into his sclera. It should've made you afraid, but it had the opposite effect. The thought that he could activate his Devil Trigger and quite literally snap you like a twig turned you on.

"Do it, then." Dante's hand snaked behind the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. "Show me just how needy you are."

Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead as you fucked yourself on the half-demon, fog settling in your brain with each breath, each movement, each beating of your heart. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster.

"Oh-" Any sentence you tried to utter stopped in your throat, replaced by a string of whimpers and curses. Whatever you were trying to babble was reduced to incoherent words.

"Well shit, I didn't know you were such a filthy little slut."

"Just- oh- shut up-"

"Hmm, I don't think you really want me to shut up." Dante sneered when you picked up the pace. "I think you like it when I talk like this."

"N-not true!" You yelped as he pinched your nipple, barely doing anything and yet you were a mess already.

"So, you don't want me to call you a fucktoy, then? Bet you're dripping right now. Bet you want me balls deep inside of you."

"Fuck, I'm gonna come!" You proved his point when your entire body quivered under his, mind blank and vision blurry.

"There, there." Dante pressed his lips onto your forehead. "I got you."

The noise of his belt unbuckling made you snap your eyes open, filling you with newfound desire and guilt — poor Dante, his cock was probably aching by now while you had the time of your life. He stepped back, letting his trousers pool at his feet, and you lifted your skirt to peel your panties off. You caught him staring at you, taking the sight in, and what a sight it was — locks of hair fell out of your bun, sticking to your sweaty temples, your legs still shaking from the orgasm, and your cunt dripping wet.

"I'd love to eat you out, babe, but my balls are genuinely gonna explode." He confessed, earning a giggle from you. Even with his eyes pitch black and his Devil Trigger on the verge of activating, Dante was still Dante. And you loved that about him.

"Hurry up and fuck me, then."

"Are you that desperate that you forgot your manners?" He dug his fingertips into the plush of your hips, violently pulling you closer to him.

"Please hurry up and fuck me?" You pouted.

"Good girl, that's better." Dante pushed your leg to the side with his elbow, dragging his cock up and down your slit.

You didn't get the chance to take a look at it, but the tip felt huge, so much so that you gasped, propping yourself on your elbows to see better, and you were not disappointed. In fact, you were concerned. You could not take it.

"Dante, it's not gonna fit."

He shook his head with a half-smile, finding your concern quite cute.

"I'll make it fit."

It was both a promise and a threat, but you trusted him. God, you trusted him with your life. He slowly and gently pushed the tip, your slick more than enough to lubricate his cock, but he stopped every time you looked uncomfortable to make sure you were okay.

"Tell me if it's too much."

"No, you can- it's fine, keep going." You closed your eyes, the discomfort causing you to clench around him instead of relaxing, which made Dande forget how to breathe or think.

But the worst came to a halt when he was fully in, stopping briefly to allow you to accommodate to the size. Your breathing went back to normal soon enough, and the last ounce of pain in your body was swiftly replaced by a surge of electricity when Dante moved, slowly and softly rolling his hips, unable to abstain any longer. And you didn't want him to when his cock filled you up so good, reaching places you didn't even know existed inside of your body. Your fingernails dug into his back, clawing at his skin with desperation and impatience, like you needed more than what he was already giving you.

"See? I told you I’ll make it fit. And you take me so well." Dante said, dragging his mouth over your neck, your scent overloading his senses.

But it just wasn't enough. No matter how painful, you wanted it-

"Harder."

Assertive, demanding, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he pulled back to look at you, as if not believing your request.

"A minute ago, you were wriggling in pain, now you want it harder?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation. "I want it harder, faster, please-"

You were shushed by two digits forcing open your mouth, and you instinctively wrapped your lips around them, sucking obediently.

"You talk too much." He gave you a taste of your own medicine. "Should've known you were just a dumb little cocksleeve."

The degrading words caused you to moan and drool around his fingers, tears welling up in your eyes. Each thrust had you clench tighter, the tip of his ridiculously large cock punishing your cervix. Pain and pleasure bubbled inside of you, sparking through your body as Dante practically ripped his fingers from your mouth, only to wrap them around your throat. He was a hungry man, and you were dinner — arching your back to get closer, deeper, you fucked yourself on his cock with his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, and he revelled in your worship.

"Shit, you like it when it hurts, don't you?" He whispered, squeezing harder while you nodded eagerly. "Of course you do."

Of course you did. How could you not when he fucked you so good that your dignity and modesty were long forgotten? When Dante stripped you of your decency to bring out the worst in you? You felt your second orgasm build up, causing you to twitch under him, eyes rolling back as you slipped your hands under his arms, holding on for dear life.

"Again- gonna come again, Dante! Fuck!"

"Atta girl." He held your quivering body, his own hips stuttering, brutally thrusting into you with raw, animalistic passion.

You came undone on his cock, fingers carding through his hair, pushing away white locks to look at his pretty eyes while his arm slithered under your lower back to both support you and bring you closer to him. Dante was close, his throbbing cock still stretching your sore cunt out. He bucked his hips, splitting you open while you latched your arms around his neck, tits pressed against his chest and your lips ghosting over his earlobe.

"Almost there, babe." Dante promised. "You're doing so well." He pulled back, nearly on edge, but you squeezed your legs tighter around his waist.

"Don't pull out." You demanded, and that was enough to help him reach enlightenment.

He filled you up, and when he did pull out, watching his cum slowly leak out of you, you could've sworn he whispered 'marry me' under his breath. Surely it was just the brain fog, or the post-orgasm high. Your whole body was numb, and you stumbled into Dante's arms when you tried to get down from the table, muscles sore and aching.

"You wanna get pizza?" He nonchalantly asked, as if he didn't just fuck his best friend.

"I- shouldn't we talk about this?" You avoided looking into his eyes, opting to stare at the floor instead.

"About what?"

God, he was either insufferably oblivious or remarkably good at pretending.

"Us." You sighed.

"What's there to talk about?" Dante's fingers found your chin, and he gently lifted it up, forcing you to look at him.

"Don't make this harder for me, please. You know things won’t be the same now. We’re not in a relationship and-"

"I don't follow." Confusion was written all over his face. "Do you not want to be my girlfriend?"

"Girl- I- hold up, what? Do you want me to be your girlfriend?" You tilted your head, baffled by his question, because of course you wanted to. You just never had the guts to admit that you like him. It was even more shocking that he liked you back. Wasn’t this all just a one-time thing?

"I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious when I fucked you. What, you thought I nut and dip? That I shoot a load and go back on the road? That I cum n go?"

"Wow, please never use those euphemisms ever again." You cringed at his words, trying your best to hide the smile that crept on your lips.

"Christ, babe, you know I don't do one-night stands unless I’m really desperate. And here I thought you were my best friend. Guess I was wrong." Dante gasped, dramatically feigning offence by placing a hand on his chest.

"I’m not your best friend anymore." You said, voice serious and cold, and his charade was quickly replaced by actual worry and offence. "I'm your girlfriend now. And your best friend."

"Okay, I was genuinely concerned. Fuck you." He flipped you off and you sneered.

"You already did."

"Wait, that's my line!"

"Skill issue."

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