#or take a long ass break and come back at times and then leave again cuz hes just miserable as fuck and yall know exactly who im talking ab

[bangchansdirty-slut]

Hii, I often read your stories and I really like them. I was wondering if you could do a shy and very feminine female reader doing it for the first time with an experienced G!P Momo please

Listen to Unnie

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Paring: Top!Momo x Member!Bttm!Reader

Genre: Smut

Requested

More: Masterlist

A/n: This is one of two fanfics I'm posting today. I won't be taking any more requests until I finish the ones I already have in my drafts, which are currently collecting dust. You can still make requests, but please keep in mind that they probably won't be written and posted for a while.

Also, can you believe it’s been a whole year since my first fic? I just wanted to give a huge thank you to all of you for supporting me and my writing. It means the world to me!

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

The practice room was filled with the faint scent of sweat and the lingering aroma of freshly applied makeup, the air thick with the anticipation of their upcoming comeback. Y/n, dressed in a baby pink hoodie and matching shorts, nervously fidgeted with her fingers. She looked up at Momo, who was casually leaning against the wall with one hand in her pocket and the other playing with the hem of her black tank top.

Momo's eyes sparkled with mischief as she took in the flustered state of the youngest member. She sauntered over to the couch and plopped down."Come on, Y/n, let's go over that part of the choreography again," she said with a grin, Y/n's cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink.

Y/n got back into position, her heart racing. She couldn't shake the feeling that Momo had something more than practice on her mind, but she brushed it off as nerves. She started to run through the routine, her movements tentative and unsure. Momo watched intently, her gaze flickering between Y/n's face and her ass, which was bouncing slightly with each step. As the beat dropped, Y/n froze. She had messed up the sequence again, and she could feel Momo's eyes burning into her.

Momo stepped closer, her body heat enveloping Y/n. "You're too stiff," she murmured, her breath hot against Y/n's ear. "You need to relax and feel the music." Before Y/n could react, Momo's hand was on her hip, guiding her through the steps, their bodies moving in sync. The friction between them grew, the air crackling with an undeniable tension that neither of them could ignore.

The older idol leaned in, her soft pink lips brushing against Y/n's, surprising the youngest member. Y/n's eyes widened, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she melted into the kiss, her inexperience shimmering like a new star in the vast sky of Momo's expertise. Momo's hand traveled up to the back of Y/n's neck, pulling her closer as their tongues danced together, exploring each other with a gentle yet insistent curiosity.

Breaking the kiss, Momo's eyes searched Y/n's, looking for any signs of discomfort. Finding none, she smiled, her teeth slightly grazing the younger girl's bottom lip. "You're so sweet," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr.

Y/n's heart thudded in her chest as she felt Momo's hand slip under her hoodie, her fingers tracing the soft skin of her stomach before moving to untie the drawstring of her shorts. With surprising deftness, Momo pulled them down, leaving Y/n's cute little panties as the only barrier between her and the cool air of the practice room. Y/n gasped as Momo's hand cupped her, feeling her warmth and the dampness that had pooled there.

Momo's eyes never left hers as she leaned in to nip at her bottom lip, a playful smirk on her face. "You're so wet, baby," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Does the thought of me making you feel good turn you on?"

Y/n nodded, her voice a barely audible whisper. She was lost in the moment, unsure of how they had gone from rehearsing to this, but she didn't want it to stop. She could feel the heat of Momo's body, her breath, her touch. It was intoxicating.

Momo's hand slipped into the waistband of Y/n's panties, her long, slender fingers sliding down to stroke the wetness that had gathered between her folds. Y/n's breath hitched, and she felt her knees wobble slightly. Momo chuckled, the sound low and warm, before her thumb found its way to Y/n's clit. She began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles, her eyes never leaving the younger girl's face as she watched for any signs of discomfort or pleasure.

Momo led Y/n over to the couch, their bodies still entwined. She sat down, gently pushing Y/n's knees apart and settling herself between them. With a smoldering gaze, she leaned in to kiss her again, their tongues tangling together as she continued to tease her clit. Y/n's breaths grew ragged, and she could feel herself getting closer to the edge.

"Momo, I've never… done this before," Y/n stuttered, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement.

Momo paused, her hand hovering over Y/n's trembling thigh. "It's okay, Jagiya," she assured her, her voice velvety and soothing. "I'll take care of you. Just listen to Unnie." She gently eased the fabric of Y/n's panties aside, revealing the soft pinkness beneath. Y/n's eyes fluttered shut as Momo's mouth descended upon her, kissing and licking a trail down her stomach.

Momo's tongue flicked over Y/n's clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body. Y/n gasped, her hands reflexively reaching for Momo's hair. She was unsure of what to do, but the feeling was so overwhelmingly good that she didn't care. Momo's mouth closed over her, suckling gently at first before increasing the pressure. Y/n's hips bucked, and she let out a soft moan, her body responding instinctively to the older girl's ministrations.

Momo looked up, her eyes dark with desire, and whispered, "You're doing so well, just keep letting go." She inserted a single finger into Y/n's tight pussy, the wetness allowing for easy entry. The youngest member's eyes widened, but she didn't protest. Instead, she began to rock her hips in time with Momo's movements, the sensation of being filled both thrilling and terrifying.

Momo's eyes locked onto Y/n's, her gaze intense and unwavering. "Tell me if it feels good," she encouraged, her voice thick with want.

Y/n nodded, her eyes glazed over with pleasure as Momo's tongue swirled around her clit. Each flick and suck sent waves of sensation crashing through her, and she couldn't hold back the soft, feminine whimpers that escaped her lips. The feeling was so new, so overwhelmingly good that she didn't know how much more she could take.

Momo's eyes grew darker with every sound Y/n made, her own arousal evident as she worked her finger in and out of the younger girl's tight pussy. She curled it slightly, finding that special spot inside her, and Y/n's body responded with a shudder. "There it is," Momo murmured, her voice full of satisfaction. She knew she had found Y/n's G-spot.

Y/n's breathing grew more erratic as Momo's finger danced inside her, the pleasure building into a crescendo. Her body tensed, and she felt the beginnings of an orgasm wash over her. She was about to ask Momo to stop, but the words got caught in her throat as Momo added a second finger, stretching her even further.

"M-Momo," she managed to stutter out, trying to push her head away, but her legs only tightened around Momo's neck, drawing her closer.

Momo chuckled against her sensitive flesh, the vibration sending another shockwave through her body. "You don't have to hold back, baby," she encouraged, her voice muffled by the fabric of Y/n's panties. "I want to hear you."

With a final, desperate attempt to maintain her dignity, Y/n buried her face in the cushions of the couch, muffling her cries. But it was no use; the pleasure was too much. Her body spasmed, and she squirted into Momo's eager mouth, soaking her. Momo groaned in pleasure, the taste of Y/n's arousal driving her wild. She didn't stop, licking and sucking until the youngest member's legs were trembling and she was whimpering for mercy.

Pulling away, Momo's eyes were alight with passion as she surveyed her handiwork. Y/n's pussy was red and swollen, glistening with a mix of sweat and desire. The young idol looked up at her, her cheeks flushed and her chest heaving. Momo smirked, standing up to reveal the tent in her own shorts. "Looks like you liked it," she said, her voice playful.

Y/n couldn't help but nod, her eyes never leaving Momo's face. "What's next?" she asked, her voice shaky with anticipation.

Momo leaned back, a smug smile playing on her lips as she assessed the situation. "Well, we can't have you lying there like that and not do anything about it," she said, her eyes darkening with desire. She reached down and adjusted the bulge in her shorts, making it clear what was next.

Y/n felt a thrill of excitement and fear at the same time. She had never seen Momo like this before, so confident and commanding. It was a stark contrast to the sweet, supportive unnie she knew from their group activities, but it was incredibly alluring. She watched as Momo unbuttoned her shorts, her eyes never leaving Y/n's.

Momo's cock was revealed, and Y/n's eyes widened at the sight of it. It was a beautiful shade of pink, glistening with lubricant and standing tall. The older member stepped closer, her hand caressing the shaft gently. "Ready for the main act?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of challenge.

Y/n nodded, her curiosity piqued. She had never seen anything like it before, but she trusted Momo implicitly. The Japanese idol positioned herself over Y/n, her cock pointing at the juncture of her thighs. "Just relax," Momo murmured, her hand sliding up to cradle Y/n's face. "I'll go slow."

With that, she began to press her cock against Y/n's opening, the tip sliding through her folds and coating it in her arousal. Y/n gasped, the sensation foreign yet exhilarating. She felt the head of Momo's cock nudge at her entrance, and she tensed up instinctively. "It's okay," Momo whispered, her thumb tracing soothing circles on Y/n's cheek. "You're so tight, baby."

Momo pushed in gently, inch by inch, her cock stretching Y/n's tightness. Y/n's eyes squeezed shut, and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. It hurt, but it was a pain that seemed to meld with the pleasure, creating a cocktail of sensations that was intoxicating. "Relax," Momo murmured, her free hand resting on Y/n's hip, her fingers digging into the soft flesh as she began to rock her hips.

Slowly, so slowly, the pain gave way to a delicious fullness. Y/n's body started to adjust, her muscles wrapping around Momo's cock like a warm, wet embrace. She felt a sense of awe, of being filled in a way she had never been before. Momo's movements grew more deliberate, her eyes never leaving Y/n's face as she watched for any signs of distress or discomfort. But all she saw was the youngest member's trust and willingness to experience something new.

The room was a symphony of soft gasps and muffled moans as Momo began to pick up the pace, her hips moving in a steady rhythm. Y/n's leg remained draped over Momo's shoulder, granting her deeper access, while her other hand held onto the armrest of the couch tightly, knuckles white with the effort of staying still. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure rippling through her body, and she couldn't help but whimper with every penetration.

Momo leaned down to capture Y/n's lips again, her own breathing ragged. Their kisses grew more urgent as the pace of their lovemaking increased. Y/n's hands roamed up Momo's back, feeling the slickness of sweat and the firmness of muscle beneath her fingertips. The older member's cock filled her completely, stretching her in the most delicious way possible, and she found herself matching Momo's movements, her hips rising to meet each powerful thrust.

Momo's hand traveled back down to Y/n's clit, her thumb resuming the relentless circles that had brought her to the brink before. Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head, and she moaned into their kiss, the sensation of being touched there while filled so completely overwhelming. She felt a second orgasm building, stronger than the first, and she clung to Momo, her nails digging into her back as she whispered, "D-on't ssstop."

Momo's rhythm grew erratic as she felt Y/n's pussy clench around her cock, the younger girl's body shaking with the force of her climax. She groaned, the vibrations sending a shiver down her spine as she continued to pump into her, eager to reach her own peak. "You're so good," she murmured, her voice strained with passion. "So, so good."

Their kisses grew sloppier, their breaths mingling in a desperate dance. Y/n's eyes searched Momo's, a silent question hanging between them. Momo read the unspoken words, the need for reassurance, and whispered, "It's okay, Jagiya. I've got you."

With that, she pushed into Y/n one final time, burying her cock as deep as it would go. Y/n felt the warmth of Momo's release flood her, the sensation sending her own body over the edge once more. She screamed into the pillow, her eyes squeezed shut, as waves of pleasure washed over her. Momo's thrusts grew shallower, her breathing ragged as she rode out her orgasm, her fingers still working Y/n's clit with an expert touch.

They lay there for a moment, their bodies entwined and trembling with the aftershocks of their shared climax. The room was silent except for the sound of their labored breaths and the distant thump of music from the neighboring practice room. Momo pulled out slowly, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she did so. She leaned down to press a soft kiss to Y/n's forehead, her hand still resting between her legs, feeling the last of her spasms subside.

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her that was different from the passion that had just consumed her. She was surprised to find that she felt safe, protected even. She looked up at Momo, her eyes filled with a mix of awe and love. "That was…" she trailed off, unable to find the words to describe the intensity of the experience.

Momo chuckled, a warm sound that sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. She leaned in to kiss her again, this time more tenderly. "It's just the beginning, baby," she whispered against her lips. "But for now, let's clean up and get you dressed."

[thinkingthougths]

-Ghost x female reader

1595 words

Warnings- none in this chapter.

The haunting of a Ghost

Chapter 2

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, soldier.”

The sudden sound coming from behind you made you drop the empty glass in the sink as you let out a foul curse in surprise.

Beneath the kitchens archway stood sergeant Kyle Garrick with his arms crossed and an amused smirk on his dirty face.

“Fucking hell Gaz, you almost gave me a damn heart attack.” You hissed at him, holding a hand over your heart that’s about to jump out of your rib cage.

The nasty words you wanted to throw at him for sneaking up on you and giving you a fright simmered out when you took notice of the smudges of dirt decorating his face and camouflage uniform.

“It’s already been a week?” Your eyes took in his wearisome face as you mumbled out the question that mostly was to yourself.

You remember the night before he and a few others shipped out for a week long mission somewhere you weren’t ranked high enough to know. It was the night. The one where Ghost chose to begin haunting your every waking moment after he burned his hooded eyes into your soul.

Gaz shoved himself off of the wall he had put his weight on and sauntered over to one of the round dining tables near you. With a weary sigh, he plopped down onto a chair and scratched his week old scruff.

“A long ass week. Successful and no major injuries on the team, though.” There’s a croaky undertone in his voice, hinting that he hasn’t slept well enough for probably the entire week.

During the time you’ve spent on this base, you’ve only ever had one mission together with the sergeant, about a year ago or so. Vividly recollecting the cool demeanor he adapted the second your feet touched ground out from the helicopter. Gone was the lax and easygoing Gaz, instead an exceptional soldier revealed himself. It was an amazing thing to witness, only ever heard tales and buzz before of the adept super soldier he transformed into.

Outside of the war zone, you and Gaz became solid friends. Even though he ranked higher than you, he never treated you as inferior. Which was otherwise quite common with these macho soldiers.

Chewing on the inside of your cheeks, you wavered on whether you should bite the bullet and confess the thoughts that’s been with you since his small departing party. If his teammate and close friend had some sort of feelings towards you. May it be infatuation or downright disgust. The mere knowing would vehemently calm your nerves and perhaps make it a bit easier to be around Ghost again.

The clock ticks on the wall. It’s the witching hour, a time when supernatural beings are believed to be the strongest. You already have a ghost haunting you, all hours of the day.

Hastily fetching the glass and filling it up to the brim with water, you chug down half of it to moisten your throat that has now become not only dry from the earlier sweating but now also from trepidation from spilling what’s been nagging you for seven days.

Your voice fails you as a strangled squeal leaves your lips instead of actual words. Gaz, lost in his own post mission musings, takes no notice and instead determinedly slams a hand on the table, making it rattle from the unintentional force.

“I need a shower before I bloody croak from exhaustion.” He declares, forcing his battered muscles to rise from the wobbly chair. “And you, need to get back to your bed, young lady.” Nodding his chin towards you, waving a weak goodbye as he leaves the kitchen.

And that was it. He went back to his barrack and left you standing with your jaw slack.

You did pity him, recognizing the toll an intense mission takes on one’s mind and body. But you also resent him, just a tad, for not noticing the awkward behavior you clearly and unwillingly were presenting. You really wanted to get some goddamn answers and when the opportunity showed itself, you messed up and choked on water.

It seems you can’t catch a break this week, you discontentedly thought to yourself as you marched back to the barracks where your sweat drenched poor excuse of a bed awaits you.

-

At noon, much to your chagrin, training was scheduled, hand to hand combat taught by some skilled superior. There’s been talks of a new instructor that will train you, no name had been given so it’s going to be a complete surprise.

Stood outside the gyms door, murky light made its way through the frosted glass and blurred out everything for you except for dancing shadows of people moving around in there.

It was an unusually cold day for mid autumn. Frosty tendrils of winds grazed your reddened cheeks as you contemplated today.

You reached for the metal doorhandle and was met with tiny sparks of pain as the sharp cold metal seeped into your skin. Retracting your hand instantly, checking your palm as if you had been burned with ice.

A crow flew over you, cawing its screech and looking like the textbook sign of a bad omen.

It certainly felt like it, being warned by something otherworldly to heed the signs and not enter the gym. Instead run away as far as you can and save yourself from whatever horrible destiny may lay inside these trepidatious doors.

If only participation wasn’t needed.

Voices coming from behind the corner of the building pushed you into finally opening the heavy door with anxiety cursing through your warm blood vessels.

While inside, beelining it to the women’s locker room, you sweep your eyes along the people on the workout machines and training mats. Scanning each person inside to find out if he’s here.

The insane physique the behemoth of a man has doesn’t just magically appear. No, Ghost spend many hours in here, priming his mighty body and growing those thick muscles. His calamitous body and towering height is part of the reason he scares you, if he wishes he can easily crush your skull, pop it like a melon between his bulging biceps.

Nausea finds its way up your throat. To daydream about the countless way the lieutenant can end your life isn’t the smartest thing to do. Not when you’re about to experience sparring and similar holds Ghost can use to blow out your light.

An idea lights itself inside your brain. What if you shift the attention to another version of him. The second, and most unlikely, guess on why he acts differently with you.

That he fancies you. The outcome would at least leave you alive in the end, right? Actually, there’s a big chance you might not survive him in that scenario either.

You imagine what kind of immoral and depraved stuff Ghost must be into. There’s simply no way he prefer to be vanilla under the covers after the things he’s experienced in his somber life. A traumatic up-growing (heard once by a gossiping group passing by you) and a career as a cold blooded mercenary. No sane man survives such a chronicle of ungodly tribulations and comes out normal.

So, in a crestfallen conclusion, you’re dead meat either way.

Chatter from the girls in the locker room concludes you’re not the only one overstrung about today’s practice. One of them had apparently overhead a higher ranking and very experienced soldier is to be today’s instructor and that he’s going to absolutely break everyone’s spirit. Just great, it’s exactly what you needed, having your soul crushed by man screaming how shitty you are.

Persistence to surviving the military life you signed yourself off to a couple years back, when life was meaningless and you needed a firm hand to guide you, makes you a bit gutsy though. And that’s very much needed right now.

Proceeding to change into a black fitted T-shirt and matching gym leggings, you determinately march your way past the machines and land next to the other people here for the training. All standing in a neat row adjacent to the square training mat, patiently awaiting your instructor.

You’re pending between taking the opportunity of having all your frustrations let out by pretend fighting with the others or to tell a small white lie that you pulled a muscle during your last workout and are going to have to sit this one out.

The unusually high anxiety that’s been eating you up is putting you on edge, you can feel a phantom pair of dark eyes burning in the back of your head, it has you chewing on your nails and fidgety scanning the vast area. No one’s paying you any attention, no one’s even looking at you. It’s all in your head, you keep saying to yourself trying to make the queasiness disappear.

Some unnoticeable breathing exercises and you think your heart rate has gone down again. The thrum of the heartbeats is no longer clogging up your hearing.

You release a haggard sigh and unclench your tense fingers.

Just as you finally find some peace, you hear the door to the gym open up and all the former lively voices fades and machines slows down into a strained silence.

You don’t have to turn around and see who it was that just entered the building.

The raised hair on your arms and the rank smell of fear from the others reveals the persons identity. Not many can silence an entire room by just entering.

Ghost.

[stupidrant]

i think the most we will get is PC release (if that) this year but that means we gotta deal with those trolls bc changing angrb0da’s skin color is such a big deal to these mfs and i still dont understand that sweet baby inc shit bcuz all the information im seeing is just bundled bullshit LMFAOOO i feel like her actual character gets overshadowed by the made up problems and no one actually talks abt HER as a character or even analyses her fr (outside of here ofc) lol sms abt to make a banger with her and atreus istg

[simonbrain]

love the idea of reader just trying to fuck all her stress out with a random at the bar before returning back to her mundane life, and simon deciding he's going to keep her instead 🙂‍↕️

the prick doesn't budge when you try to kick him out; instead, he drags you back into bed and works his mouth to loosen you up again, and now you've forgotten why you were trying to haul his ass out of your home.

(you attempted to sound stern while telling him to get out of your house, but he merely chuckled, the sound so raspy and condescending that it stroked a heat within you that you thought was sated last night.

"this is our home. now get your arse back in bed, i'm fuckin' hungry.")

you had to really fist at his hair to pull him off of you, and that only turned him on if the deep groan rumbling out of him was anything to go by—you swear his tongue sunk deeper inside you. he only relented so he could fuck you dumb in the shower after, leaving you with trembling legs and feeling more dirty than clean (atta girl, don't you waste any of tha'—keep it all in).

you blink, and now suddenly you're seated as he spoon-feeds you a nice, hearty breakfast, huffing something like messy girl when toast crumbs get all over your face and the wooden table.

words can't express how flustered you are; you're too stunned to even continue telling the big man who's now feeding you scrambled eggs that he needs to leave. all you feel like you're capable of doing is opening your mouth to accept another spoonful, ignoring the ache you feel between your thighs when you catch his heavy stare and hear a low hum of approval.

then he's leaving (and it's not because of your nagging), muttering something about having to work those mutts to the bone today, all while you're trying to make sense of what's happening. he gives you a sloppy kiss to silence your questions and exasperation, one that makes you feel hot all over and almost melt into a puddle had it not been for the firm grip he had on your ass.

he licks his lips when he pulls back, eyes darting to where your shirt just barely covers where he'd rather be all day than having to go and train recruits. he stares for an uncomfortably long time and before you can speak up, face growing a little hot from the tension, he's turning around to finally leave.

before the door shuts, he says, "be a good girl, ay? see you tonight, birdie."

you're left with your thoughts and feelings of dread and anxiety. there definitely isn't any underlying interest or anything; the freak has fucked your brain out of your head, that's all. you're sure he didn't even mean it anyway. maybe. hopefully.

a drop of his come rolls down your thigh, and arousal shame burns through you. since when did you let one-night stands finish in you?

(your so-called one-night stand came home hungry and pissed, so worked up that he dragged you over to the nearest surface and played with you for a good hour. by the time you had half the mind to tell him about the dinner in the oven—your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at how much money he had sent you for groceries earlier, nevermind how he got ahold of your account details—he grunted and finally gave your poor pussy a break, scarred mug all slick and flushed.)

good luck when he takes you to meet his mates at the bar a week later, the same bar you brought him home from; the comments from them make you wish a hole in the ground would just swallow you right up.

"pretty thing ye caught, lt," johnny grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. he's a bit over the top, ogles your chest too hard, but overall he's... alright. you'd probably notice how perverted he really was if you actually looked at him longer than a few fleeting glances, but his stare is kind of unnerving.

kyle—perfection personified—hums in agreement, a warm smile on his face that puts you at ease. somehow you don't pick up on the ulterior motive behind his gaze running over your body, eyes roaming over your chest more discreetly than johnny but just as appreciative. "pretty indeed. you don't mind sharing, do you ghost?" kyle teases, pretty eyes glancing over at simon, who only huffs at that and shakes his head (much to your confusion).

who the fuck is ghost? you only know big guy and simon.

there's a deep chuckle and your focus flits over to the man seated in front of you, captain john price. if you thought simon was scary, john's a man who demands respect and attention just by being in his presence. "you chose the wrong dog to bring home," john hums, voice deep and gravelly and making you shamefully squeeze your thighs together.

"but that's alright, sweetheart. you have three others now, yeah?" the purr that comes out of his mouth is sinful, and when you nod and stammer out a yes, sir as if you were one of his soldiers and not the sweet girl that simon has brought to his captain, looking for approval of his newest toy, he only smiles.

simon's hand squeezes your thigh underneath the table, trailing upwards, and you're slowly understanding what it is that you've gotten yourself into.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

home for the holidays (part one) - r.c.

❄️ a frat!rafe cameron holiday mini series ❄️

summary a simple favor for a friend ends with you reluctantly bringing Rafe Cameron, resident campus fuckboy, home for the holidays. It’s gonna take more than a little mistletoe for him to win you over…

content “enemies” to lovers, copious amounts of flirting, eventual smut, a dash of familial angst, parental illness and mentions of parental death, 18+ mdni

Brodyyy <3: hey thanks again for offering to give me a ride back to nc for break!

You: ofc! anything for u after u gave me those o chem notes bestie

Brodyyy <3: i’m glad to hear ya say that…bc i have one more favor to ask

You: what’s up?

Brodyyy <3: one of my frat bros needs a ride back too, can he join?

You: does he live near us?

Brodyyy <3: he’s from obx but if you get us to my house I can take him the rest of the way in my mom’s car, so no extra driving for you!

You: yeah then i guess that’s cool!!

You: as long as i’m home before 6pm on the 21st i’m good

Brodyyy <3: cookie day?

You: exactly, u get me

Brodyyy <3: dw we’ll get you home in time for cookies! Tysm!

You: np!

You: what’s his name btw?

Brodyyy <3: …

You: *questioned* “what’s his name btw?”

Brodyyy <3: rafe

You: be so fr rn

You: as in cameron???

You: Brody, did u seriously invite rafe cameron to drive home with us??

Hour one

You could see your breath, fog filling the air with each shivering exhale as you pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. Even after three-and-a-half years, you’d never gotten used to these North Eastern winters. The plan was to be well on your way towards a milder climate by now, but here you were, leaning against the open hatchback trunk of your car, desperately clutching your hot coffee as you waited for your friend to show up. With his friend. You rolled your eyes as you checked the time on your phone for the hundredth time, none of your many texts to Brody returned.

“Brody, I swear to god,” you mumbled under your breath, “five more minutes and I’m leaving your ass.”

Time ticked on without any sight of him. With a resigned sigh, you reached up to close the trunk.

“Hey wait up!” a voice called from behind you. You whipped around to find its owner.

Standing a few feet back on the sidewalk, sherpa lined corduroy jacket, backpack slung over his shoulder and obnoxiously handsome smirk painted on his face, was Rafe Cameron. Notorious playboy, frat president, and hands down your least favorite person on this campus. 

It wasn’t a big school, everyone knew Rafe Cameron. All of your friends had crushes on him, some of them even managed to hook up with him or have stories of making out with him at frat parties. Every Friday night, he popped up on every Insta story on campus, somehow everywhere at once, and yet your paths had never crossed directly. You were okay with that. You knew his type well enough.

“I’m Rafe,” he interjected when you didn’t greet him.

“I know,” you said dryly.

“My reputation precedes me?” He grinned, his slight southern drawl reminding you of home with a pang of nostalgia, until you remembered that this guy was from a completely different world than you.

“I wouldn’t be too proud of that,” you shot back, slamming the trunk closed. “Where’s Brody?”

Rafe usually gave people about ten seconds before he decided if he liked them or not. A lethal combination of impatience and general distrust that he disguised seamlessly under cocky confidence. Your arms were crossed in hostility as you frowned at him, even though he’d barely said two words to you. 

Ah yes, he knew exactly your type. You were that irritating brand of stuck up smart girl who always saw right through him. Sure, you were surprisingly really pretty, a fact Brody had forgotten to mention, but annoying nonetheless. He decided right then not to like you, since you so clearly had already decided not to like him. 

“He’s not coming,” Rafe informed you. “Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t,” you huffed, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he got a gig with a professor to be a research assistant, but he’s gotta stay on campus to do it,” he explained.

“He could’ve told me,” you rolled your eyes, checking the time again to calculate how far behind his no-show had made you. “I’m gonna have to adjust the schedule.”

“The schedule?” He cocked his head, picking up on the tightly wrinkled knot in your forehead as you pulled a folded piece of graph paper from your pocket.

It was color coded and intricate, every mile, every meal, every gas stop accounted for, down to the minute. You had a pencil in your hair, tucked neatly into your messy bun so you could pull it out quickly and make necessary changes, as you were doing now. You held the paper up against the side of your car, erasing and scribbling intensely as you recalculated the trip. 

“I need to be home by six at the latest, it’s nine now, that leaves only an hour for stops and traffic, we were supposed to leave at eight…” you looked up to eye him pointedly as you said the last part, silently blaming him for the delay as you did your mental math.

“Sorry to make you wait, I needed my beauty sleep,” he raised his hands in defense, lips curling back to display his shiny white smile. “You don’t think this all just happens naturally do you?” He gestured to his face.

You tucked the paper back into your pocket as you eyed him up and down, unimpressed and yet simultaneously beginning to understand why all your girlfriends had fallen so easily for this douchebag. He was handsome, sharp features permanently set in an arrogant smirk. His body was tall and lean yet built, enough that you could tell he was muscular even under all those layers. His dirty blonde hair sat messy over his forehead, sticking out at all angles in a way that made it clear he’d just woken up. 

But you were smart, life and your high IQ made you an expert in reading people. You could see right through him.

“I wasn’t waiting for you, I was waiting for Brody,” you shut him down. “And since he’s apparently not coming, I’m gonna hit the road,” you slammed the trunk closed, pulling your keys from your pocket and making your way to the driver’s side door.

You opened the door, fully intending to climb in and drive off on your own, but Rafe appeared quickly by your side, closing the door before you could climb in.

“Woah, woah, wait,” he said, his arm out next to your head to hold the door closed.

You scoffed at his boldness and stepped back, “uhm excuse me!”

“You’re excused,” he smirked down at you. “How am I gonna get home?”

“Greyhound station is that way,” you pointed over your shoulder, trying to push him out of the way of your door, but he was too sturdy to be moved. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms, planting himself.

“I’d rather ride with you,” he flashed you a devilish grin you just knew he was used to throwing around like currency.

“Dude, can you just let me into my car?” You shut him down.

“What’s the magic word?” God, did this guy have a punchable face.

“Please,” you reluctantly let out through gritted teeth.

“Hmm, no,” he turned it back on you, planting his feet firmly on the ground, both of you knowing there was no way you were gonna be able to overpower his large frame.

“Okay seriously? I know you’re used to using your body to get what you want, but it’s not gonna work this time,” you were done fucking around, an invisible clock ticking in your mind while your trip was delayed even further by this jackass. “Get away from my car.”

“I will when you agree to give me a ride,” his lips twisted and his voice dropped, aimed down at you, “or we can keep standing here and talking about my body.”

You couldn’t help but blush, and he couldn’t help but like it. The embarrassment at the involuntary response only fueled your anger.

“Why would I do that? I don’t even know you,” it wasn’t entirely true, you knew more than you cared to know about him. Or at least, in this moment, you thought you did.

“Brody said you owe him a favor right? Do it for him,” he suggested.

“If he wanted to cash in on his favor, he should’ve been here himself.”

“Okay then, what if I paid for gas? What was Brody gonna do, go 50/50 with you? I’ll cover the whole trip,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick leather wallet, opening it to flash you his black card. 

You couldn’t help but also notice the polaroids tucked in the see-through pockets. On one side, what appeared to be a family photo; Rafe, an older man and two young girls smiling on a giant boat. On the other side, some sorority girls in bikinis, flashing the camera at a charity car wash. Who the fuck was this guy? 

“Brody was also gonna take you the rest of the way to the Outer Banks. I’m going west and there’s no way I’m getting on a ferry, how are you gonna get home?” You reasoned, though he could hear in your tone that you were starting to actually consider saying yes. 

Time to bring it home, he thought.

“I’ll figure it out. Just get me to the ferry and I’ll be fine. I’ll be eternally grateful, I’ll owe you a big favor. And I never do people favors.”

“The more you talk, the less I want to be stuck in a car with you for eight hours,” you said. 

Dammit, his plan backfired. But he hadn’t missed the way you eyed the picture of him with his dad, Sarah and Wheezie in his wallet. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“Please? All flights are sold out and I’d really like to see my little sisters for Christmas,” he blinked his wide blue eyes, mustering up all the sincerity he could find.

Family was your weak spot, you wondered if Brody had told him that. As much as you truly did not want to get in this cramped, two-door car with him, you felt bad picturing the two little girls waiting patiently for their big brother to come home for Christmas. Ugh.

With a deep sigh, you finally said, “fine.” 

Rafe slapped his hand on the car’s roof in celebration, reveling in his victory as he finally stepped away from your door.

“I’ll get you to the ferry and that’s it,” you qualified, trying to dampen his enthusiasm. “I need to be home by six, if I’m late you’re gonna owe me a lot more than a favor.”

He crossed his fingers over his heart solemnly, “scout’s honor!”

“You can throw your stuff in the backseat,” you instructed, your trunk already full to the brim with presents for your family.

“What, you got too much junk in your trunk?” He chuckled at his own joke as he jogged around to the passenger’s side.

You rolled your eyes hard as you climbed in the driver’s seat. This was gonna be the longest eight hours of your life.

Hour two

The heat in your car was cranked at full blast, but you were still shivering as you drove. This car was a hand-me-down from your dad, it got you back and forth to school, but left plenty to be desired in the way of amenities.

Based on the designer watch he was wearing and his Gatsby-esque reputation, you were pretty confident this was the least fancy car Rafe had ever been in.

“Sorry about the rattling,” you said, needlessly gesturing toward the dash, which shook steadily with the hum of the engine. “She’s a good car, but she’s got creaky bones.”

“It’s cool,” he shrugged, pulling a pack of gum out of his coat pocket.

“I’m sure the G-wagons you’re used to don’t shake when you accelerate.”

Rafe popped a piece of gum in his mouth, snapping it obnoxiously between his teeth as he looked over at you, head cocked in observation.

“You don’t like me,” he surmised simply.

Your mouth fell open slightly, startled by how directly he clocked you, “I- I barely know you.”

“Then why do you roll your eyes everytime I open my mouth?”

“Maybe I just don’t like what you have to say.”

His eyes narrowed, considering this for a moment before deciding, “nah, I think it’s something else. Did we have a class together or something?”

“No, just a couple mutual friends,” you smiled the fakest of smiles.

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Girls you’ve ghosted mainly,” you said.

“Whaaat, me? Ghost someone? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smirked.

“Yeah right,” you shook your head with an incredulous laugh that only widened his grin. “You know exactly what I mean, you ghost them and then you gaslight them that you were never a thing to begin with. We call it the Rafe Cameron special.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’ve never done that,” he said.

“That’s such bullshit, this girl in my hall freshman year showed me all your texts, you totally gaslit her.” 

“Gaslit? Me? You’re crazy…” he said.

You almost took the bait, mouth opened indignantly to argue again before you finally caught onto his game and the growing prideful smirk on his face. He was fucking with you.

You turned the music up, blocking him out as he chuckled under his breath in the seat next to you, ever so pleased with himself.

“Oh, c’mon, lighten up,” he tilted his body toward you, his long legs cramped in the small space of your front seat. 

He placed his hand on the back of your headrest, his arm easily reaching the distance between you. 

“It’s college, it’s not that serious. Everybody’s hooking up and breaking up. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of flings,” his eyes ran up and down your body with that final remark.

You stumbled over your response. You weren’t necessarily a shy person, but you didn’t walk around discussing your personal life as openly as he apparently does. 

“I…can you stop looking at me like that please?”

“Looking at you like what?” He grinned, feigning innocence.

“Like you know me at all.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” he nodded. “Though I think I’ve pretty much figured you out.”

“Oh have you?” Your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, I mean, I have my guesses at least…”

“Please, share with the class,” you turned the radio down to better hear his absurdity, sure that he was full of shit.

“You were top of your class in high school, graduating with a…3.97 GPA,” he began. “You got in automatic acceptance to a bunch of state schools but you insisted on going to your reach, which thrilled your parents I’m sure. College isn’t as easy as high school, but you’ve settled around an A minus average final grade. You’re not in a sorority, I would’ve seen you at a mixer, but you’re definitely in some organized groups. Not sports, that’s not practical enough, it’s gotta be something where you can do some networking. Brody said you’re what, pre-med? So you’re probably in some kind of medical honors society. I bet you’ve had only one serious boyfriend, maybe a long distance high school sweetheart, but you’re too focused on school to make that work so you dumped his ass. A few hook ups since then, but nothing real. How am I doing?”

Your eyes were glued to the road, face gone ashen as he continued to nail correct guess after correct guess.

“My high school GPA was 3.98 actually,” you said weakly. “And I don’t like this game.”

Rafe had never been more smug, beaming triumphantly at your confirmation of all his assumptions.

“Don’t worry, I’m done playing,” he leaned forward to take off his coat, balling it up to use as a pillow so he could lean his head on the window. “Wake me up when at the next scheduled stop, will ya?”

“No promises,” you grumbled, making him smile as he drifted off to sleep.

Hour three

Bright red brake lights glowed in a line stretched out in front of you for a mile. You sighed deeply, your foot sore from holding down the brake for a full ten minutes. Resigned, you finally gave in and put the car in park, eyeing the clock on the dash anxiously.

Rafe snored. Loudly.

You shot him a bitter glare as he sat passed out in the passenger seat, blissfully unaware of the stop-and-go traffic jam you had gotten stuck in, enjoying his free ride and interrupting your music with his loud snores. Out of spite, you leaned forward and turned up the radio until your music was practically blaring through the speakers.

Somehow, like even in his sleep he knew how to push your buttons, he started snoring louder. You turned the music up as high as it would go, singing along at the top of your lungs until he finally started stirring, eyes blinking open. You quickly turned down the music, stifling a laugh at the confused, grumpy look on his face.

“We’re not moving,” he mumbled, groggily taking in your surroundings.

“You have great observational skills,” you teased him.

“You didn’t think to account for traffic on your little itinerary?” He said smugly.

“I did,” you defended yourself, “just not until we passed through DC. This part of I-95 isn’t usually so packed.”

Rafe sat up in his seat, not having much room to stretch out his legs but trying anyway. He watched the way you were chewing on the inside of your cheek, nervously tapping your hands on the steering wheel.

“So what’s happening at six o’clock?” He asked, trying to pull you from your anxious thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Before we left, you said you had to be home at six. What’s at six?” 

“Oh, uh, it’s kind of silly actually, you wouldn’t get it,” you sat back in your seat, finally accepting that the car in front of you wasn’t moving anytime soon.

“Try me,” he said.

You looked at him, trying to decide if you wanted to share and risk his getting his rude opinion on something so special to you. But you were hungry, and tired, and stressed, and honestly, after a few too many hours in his charismatic orbit, you were looking for more reasons not to like him.

“It’s because of cookies,” you admitted.

“Cookies?” He cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his non-judgemental stance.

“My mom makes these gingerbread cookies that are literally the best thing I’ve ever tasted. They’re so good, she makes them every christmas, but she only makes one batch. It’s an old family recipe her mom left her when she passed away and my mom said she isn’t supposed to give it to me until she’s…gone…”

You paused to swallow hard, like there were more words fighting their way out. Feeling a little too vulnerable with Rafe’s eyes on you, you pushed them back down. 

“…anyway, I have three younger brothers, and they get home from their practices at six. The second they walk in the door, they’ll attack those cookies and there won’t be any left for me. So I need to get home before them or I’ll have to wait a whole year for more cookies.”

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he decided whether or not he was gonna tease you.

Finally he landed on, “gingerbread, really? They can’t possibly be that good.”

“Oh no, believe me they really are. I’m not usually into gingerbread either but these are seriously the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up, smirking at you from his side of the car. It took a second for you to hear your own double entenadre. 

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, reaching over to swat his arm.

“I didn’t say anything!” He pretended to wince, rubbing the spot on his arm you’d hit dramatically. You flexed your hand, surprised that it stung a little, his arm firmer than you were expecting. 

“You question the cookies and then you mock me,” you shook your head. “I should make you get out and walk the rest of the way.”

“No, no!” He chuckled. “I would never question the cookies. I’m sure they’re delicious. Don’t make me walk.”

You zeroed your eyes in on him, “fine. You're safe. For now.”

He wiped his forehead playfully, mouthing a silent ‘phew!’

After a few minutes, traffic started moving again, though painfully slowly. Rafe was drumming along to the radio on the dashboard, growing more impatient by the second. His fidgeting reminded you of a bored toddler.

“Why can’t you mom just make more cookies?” He blurted out.

Your grip tightened on the wheel as sudden brake lights ahead of you forced you to slam on your own brake yet again. This was the direction you were hoping the conversation wouldn’t head in.

“She, uh…she just makes the one batch,” you tried to shrug the question off, but he was too busy tapping away and shifting in his seat to notice your growing discomfort.

“I mean how long can it take? A couple hours maybe? I bet she could just -”

“She just can’t, okay?” You snapped, your growing irritation with the traffic jam making the words come out a little sharper than you’d intended. You took a deep breath when his eyes snapped toward you, “sorry. She just…she can only make one.”

Rafe nodded, his bottom lip sticking out as he returned his attention to his phone, typing rapidly.

“Alright then, take the next exit,” he said.

“What?”

“In a half mile on the right, take that exit,” he repeated.

“Why?” you asked.

“I found a faster route,” he explained. “Let’s get you those cookies.”

Hour four

Rafe was right, the alternate route he found for you had caught you up to schedule, even putting you about twenty miles ahead of where you expected to be by this point.

With the made up time, Rafe finally convinced you to stop for food, and, after several minutes of arguing, to let him drive the next stretch.

It was amazing how much your mood improved with some food in your system. Now that you weren’t the one behind the wheel, it was you shuffling restlessly in the seat, unfolding and refolding your schedule and refreshing the GPS on your phone every couple of minutes. 

“In one hundred and twenty two miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and twenty miles, veer left…” refresh “in one hundred and nineteen miles-“

“Veer left! It’s gonna keep saying the same thing every time, you really don’t need to keep refreshing it,” Rafe grunted.

You shot him a glare, making a show of turning your phone off and tucking it in your pocket. 

“Remind me why you couldn’t just drive yourself?” You snarled. “What, is the Beamer in the shop?”

“It’s a Range Rover, actually,” he corrected you, pulling forth yet another eye roll from you as you mumbled ‘of course it is.’ “And yes, actually, it is.”

“Ah, you pimping your ride?”

He snorted, “what is it 2005? No, I, uh, totaled it, actually.”

“I knew I shouldn’t let you drive,” you winced, grabbing the handle above the passenger door theatrically.

“Relax, it wasn’t my fault,” he assured you.

“Let me guess, the other driver was so blinded by your dazzling smile that they crashed right into you?” 

“There was no other driver,” he said, smirking with a sidelong glance in your direction. “Glad to know you think my smile is that powerful though.”

You regretted your word choice immediately, your brain was working so fast to deflect his charm you had lost the plot a bit. You scrambled to put the focus back on him so he wouldn’t see the way you were blushing.

“Okay so what’s the story then?” You asked.

“It’s really not that interesting. I was driving around campus and there was something in the street, I swerved and hit a tree, that’s it,” he reached to turn the radio a little louder, your eyes narrowing at the avoidant tone he’d adopted.

“You saw ‘something?’ What ‘something’ did you see?” You pressed, amused by his discomfort.

“Just, uhm, an animal in the road,” he said dismissively.

You nodded, a little “ah” leaving your lips as you returned your gaze to the window. You tapped your fingers on your thigh to the beat of the song. You wanted to know more, he knew you wanted to know more. The tension broke quick.

“What kind of animal was -”

“Ohhh my god, you’re so nosy, it was-“ he cut himself off momentarily to lower his voice, “it was a bunny alright?”

Your laugh was immediate and loud, head falling back at the image he’d conjured for you.

“Alright, it’s not that funny but whatever,” he rolled his eyes, unable to suppress the little curve of his lips at the pretty sound of your unguarded giggles. 

“No, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said between laughs, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “it’s not funny. It’s nice. You crashed your Range Rover trying to save a little rabbit. I just didn’t expect Rafe Cameron to break for bunnies, it’s very cute.”

Rafe never got flustered, he practically majored in flirting, it never phased him. So why the fuck was he blushing like a little kid right now?

Get your shit together, Cameron, he thought, she’s just some girl.

“So you and Brody, y’all sleeping together or...?”

Your laughter stopped dead in its tracks, head snapping towards him as your jaw slammed shut.

Pointedly not answering him, you grabbed your Coke from the cupholder and took a long sip.

“Is that a yes?” he continued. 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you cut him off, fiddling with the straw, “but no, we’re just old friends.”

Long gone was the playful air of the bunny story. Unable to recover and get a positive reaction from you, he figured he might as well dig himself deeper. In for a penny…

“But, c’mon, you’re saying you two have seriously never…”

“Ew no, he’s literally like my brother,” you shut him down. “Why do you care so much? You jealous?”

Fuck, he hadn’t meant to give you the upper ground, he needed to level the field. 

“You just seemed pretty upset when you found out he wasn’t coming is all. Like, I dunno, a woman scorned and all that…”

“Have you considered it’s because I realized I was gonna be stuck in a car alone with you for eight hours?”

Thoroughly pissed off, you sank down in your seat and continued sipping your Coke, avoiding looking at him by counting the mile markers on the side of the highway. 

Rafe looked over at you, taking in the flex of your jaw as you stewed. He usually didn’t give a fuck if his words offended people. He preferred it, actually. But something about the shape of your smile and the sound of your laughter made him wish you were always happy. He felt like shit for making it go away, then he felt like shit for feeling like shit given his decision not to like you.

His eyes stayed on you for longer than they should, studying the shape of your silhouette in the soft light of the December sun. 

“Watch out!” You shrieked suddenly.

Rafe’s eyes shot forward and he realized with panic that he’d been veering off the road, the front of the car dangerously skewed in the direction of the metal guard rail. 

“Fuck!” 

He cut the wheel hard, overshooting his correction and causing the car to jerk sharply to the left. In your concern, you gripped your drink so hard the lid came off, your ice cold diet coke splashing out of the cup and all over you.

Rafe redirected the car until it was back in the correct lane, but you were already covered in diet soda. Coke dripped from your hair onto your face, your mouth hung wide open in shock and fury.

“Shit, my bad,” Rafe said, reaching in the fast food bag for some napkins.

He started dabbing it completely unhelpfully at your shoulder and you ripped the napkin from his hands.

“This is my favorite shirt, ugh what the fuck Rafe!” You scolded him, trying to use the napkins with very little luck, the shirt was definitely ruined.

“I said I’m sorry! Jesus calm down, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he huffed at you, hating that he liked how you said his name, even when you were yelling at him.

“No of course not, you never do anything on purpose,” you quipped.

It took everything in him not to snap back with a “you don’t even fucking know me,” but he remained silent. Biting his tongue was a new taste to him, he didn’t like it, but he didn’t like the feeling of you being pissed at him either. Today was a day of firsts.

“We’re gonna have to stop so I can get a new shirt from the trunk,” you said.

Eager to return to familiar territory, he jumped at the opportunity to antagonize you, shaking his head and tsking condescendingly, “no can do, there’s no stops on the schedule for an hour.”

“Okay well this is obviously an extenuating circumstance,” you argued.

“So was me wanting to stop at that outlet mall to get presents for my family, but we didn’t stop then,” he countered.

“Right, because those things are comparable,” you scoffed. “It’s not my fault you waited until the last second to do your Christmas shopping.”

You were right, but he still resented the know-it-all tone in your accusation.

“Well I’m the driver and I say we’re sticking to the schedule,” he doubled down.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here covered in soft drink for the rest of the trip?”

“I have an old sweatshirt in my bag you can borrow,” he offered.

The urge to continue fighting with him until he agreed to pull over was strong, but the urge to get out of the cold, sticky shirt was stronger. With a sigh, you climbed into the backseat and dug through Rafe’s bag until you found a soft, worn out hoodie with a logo on the front that said “Kildare Academy Lacrosse” and on the back “Cameron #44.”

You reached down to peel off your shirt, looking up first to catch Rafe watching you through the rear view mirror. Your hands paused on the hem, giving him a steely look.

“Uh, a little privacy please?” 

His eyes continued flicking between you and the road, “I just wanna see if you found the right sweatshirt,” he claimed.

You let out an indignant tsk, mouth open in disbelief when he gave you a little wink through the mirror. You reached forward and smushed your hand into his cheek, pushing his head back toward the road. He bit his bottom lip, trying to play nonchalant as you stripped off your shirt just inches behind him. He might act like a playboy, but he did actually have enough respect not to look at you while you changed.

Still, keeping his eyes on the road meant seeing the fuzzy form of you in his peripheral vision. The general hue of your skin tone and the swift movement of you pulling your shirt over your head sucked some of the air from his usually puffed-out chest. He felt like he was twelve years old, the way just the thought of you shirtless in the backseat made his hands clammy and his heart pick up speed. He needed to get a grip.

The sweatshirt was about two sizes too big but so warm and comfortable you didn’t care. You expected it to smell like some cheap cologne or boy sweat, but instead it smelled like something sweet and inviting - fabric softener, you realized with a grin. You’d tease him for that later.

Hour five

Somewhere in the middle-of-nowhere Virginia, your gas light came on. You agreed to let him drive for another fifty miles after a quick gas station pit stop, planning to take the allotted thirty minute nap you’d mapped out on your schedule before driving the rest of the way.

Rafe paid for the gas, as promised, and stood by the car as he filled your tank. You never did get to finish your Diet Coke, so you ran inside to grab another while he pumped.

“That’ll be $2.79, dear,” the cashier told you, her southern accent and charm a tell-tale sign that you were nearing home.

With a smile, you pulled out your debit card and held it out for her to swipe.

“Sorry sweetheart, there’s a five dollar minimum for cards,” she informed you politely.

“Oh, okay,” you looked around the counter for something to add, swiping some knick-knacks from their display to round up your bill.

----❄----

The car door slammed as Rafe climbed back in next to you, balling up the receipt for the gas and tossing it into the backseat.

“How much was it?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. 

You shouldn’t feel bad, he offered to pay, and you were technically the one doing him a favor. Still, you were raised by blue collar parents, ‘neither a borrower nor a lender be’ and elbow grease was gospel in your home. You felt like you needed to give him something.

“Here,” you passed him the bag of trinkets you’d bought inside.

Rafe looked in the bag with a confused grin.

“What am I supposed to do with these?” He laughed as he pulled the items out of the bag.

“You could…give them to your sisters,” you suggested.

“What are they gonna do with a Thomas Jefferson snow globe and a bumper sticker that says ‘Virginia is for Lovers’?”

“Well it’s better than a slip of paper that says ‘IOU one christmas present,’” You teased him.

“Y’know what? Very true,” he nodded, tucking the bag of goodies in the backseat and pulling out of the gas station. 

The drive was silent for a few minutes. You leaned forward, resting your arms on the dash as you watched the emerging silhouette of the Blue Ridge Mountains on the far horizon. It was all getting so close; a crackling fire, drinking hot cocoa while watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas with your brothers, decorating the tree, those gingerbread cookies…

“What are you smiling about?” Rafe’s voice interrupted your revelry.

“I’m just excited to get home and see my family,” you said with a happy smile. “Aren’t you?”

It was such a foreign concept to him he almost laughed. He was still playing the angle that he was desperate to get home to his family so you’d give him a ride. He couldn’t tell you the truth; that he wasn’t sure anyone at his house even remembered he was coming, that Christmases in the Cameron house for the last decade were more about the pictures his father could put on the cards he sent to clients than they were about celebrating, or love. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course,” he said, hoping you’d drop it. 

You didn’t.

“Does your family have any traditions?” 

“Like what?” He knew what you meant, but his brain wasn’t working fast enough to come up with a lie, the truth sitting on his chest in the uncomfortable way he spent his life trying to avoid.

“Like, okay,” you started. “Me and my brothers always sleep in the living room on Christmas Eve. We get all the pillows and blankets in the house and make a big pile in front of the fireplace and keep the fire going all night so we can stay up to try and catch Santa.” 

“How’s he gonna come down the chimney if you keep the fire going?” Rafe questioned logically.

“Oh Rafe, I’m so sorry I have to be the one to tell you this…but Santa isn’t real,” you placed your hand on his arm like you were trying to console him. 

He let it linger for a minute before shaking you off, “you know what I meant!” he grumbled, making you laugh. The sound was so sweet it made him dizzy.

“What else do you do?” He asked impulsively, surprising both you and himself with his desire to hear you keep talking.

“Well, you know about my mom’s cookies, and we always drink cocoa with peppermint sticks, and oh! Me and my dad used to cut down a real tree together the day after Thanksgiving- I’m sure they’ve already gotten it this year since I wasn’t home- but we’d always decorate it together, just the two of us, while listening to his old Bing Crosby vinyl.”

It sounded so nice, so idyllic and comforting, like a Hallmark card. Jealousy roared in his chest, hoping you couldn’t see it on his face as he pictured the much colder, tension filled holiday that was awaiting him.

“Didn’t Bing Crosby used to hit his kids?” He blurted out coldly, the holly jolly joy in the car becoming a little too much for him to handle.

Your face soured, lips twisted as he burst your bubble. 

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” you mumbled. Even when he was being an ass, you were being cute. It was killing him. “Not a Christmas guy, huh?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be napping right now?” He brushed off your question.

“I don’t know, maybe you shouldn’t drive so grumpy.”

“I’ll be fine. Your thirty minutes is slipping away, though.”

“Okay fine, but don’t forget to wake me up when we cross the state line,” you reminded him.

“I know, I know. Are you always this bossy?” He snipped, his sudden coldness making you wish you’d never opened up to him about your family to begin with.

With a final, pointed look at him, you pulled the strings of his sweatshirt to cover your eyes and sank down into the seat. 

“Bah humbug,” you threw at him before drifting off to sleep.

Almost immediately, he missed the sound of your voice. 

Hour six

In your dream, you sat alone at your kitchen table, your dad’s Bing Crosby vinyl skipped on the record player as you cried over an empty plate, not a single crumb of gingerbread left…

Hour seven

The world was moving outside the windows, the early darkness of winter making the scene blurry, but you could tell the car was definitely still moving.

And Rafe was out cold in the driver’s seat.

“Oh my god!!” 

You shot up in your seat and grabbed the wheel, sure that you were about to go flying off the road any second. But the wheel was locked, and there was no engine’s rumble shaking the dash. The car was off. 

You blinked, your groggy mind finally catching up with reality. You weren’t driving, you were floating. The choppy ocean crashing against the side of the ship spraying little droplets of water on your windshield.

“Oh my god,” you repeated with a groan, this time less panicked and more pissed.

Rafe woke up with your body stretched across his lap, gripping the wheel as you groaned.

“Hi,” he mumbled with a sleepy smile, completely misreading the situation.

You sat back in your own seat and hit him on the shoulder, hard. 

“Oww, what the hell?” He sat up, rubbing his arm.

“Where the fuck are we?” You barked at him.

“We’re in your car on the way home,” he avoided the true answer. 

“I said I’d get you to the ferry…”

“And would ya look at that? You did!” He smiled sheepishly.

With scarily accurate comedic timing, the ship’s horn blared loudly, leaving no doubt.

“Rafe, we’re on the ferry!” You yelled, smacking him again.

“Would you stop hitting me please?! We were making good time and you looked so peaceful sleeping so I figured we’d just hop the ferry real quick and you’ll still make it home by six.”

You checked the time on your phone, eyes widening with realization.

“Just barely! At this rate I’ll be walking in the door at 5:58,” you argued.

“And just think of how many cookies you can eat in two minutes if you really put your mind to it,” he grinned at you. You were having none of his boyish charm this time, back to being a card carrying member of the “I Hate Rafe Cameron” club.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you mumbled.

“Okay, well can it wait until we’re on dry land? I get seasick and I want it to be a fair fight.”

He wasn’t letting up on the flirting, and you weren’t giving in. The rest of the boat ride was painfully quiet.

----❄----

“It’s just up here on the right, that metal gate,” he assured you as he approached his home, still trying to convince you that you had plenty of time.

Headlights bounced off the high white walls of his estate as the car pulled up. Your mouth hung open in disbelief.

“What is it?” He questioned.

“I knew you were probably rich, y’know based on your whole…” you gestured vaguely to him, “...thing. But holy shit.”

He grinned, “yeah it’s alright I guess.”

“Oh whatever,” you laughed. “It’s like a fucking castle!”

With a final left turn, he pulled into Tannyhill, the giant house completely dark at the end of the long drive. Rafe’s face fell slightly as he drove up, but he pushed the disappointment down when he felt your eyes on him.

“Home sweet home,” he said, feigning holiday cheer.

He put the car in park and grabbed his stuff from the backseat. You both got out, stopping in front of the car so he could hand you the keys.

“I should change so you can have your sweatshirt back,” you said.

“Nah you can give it back to me at school, I’ve delayed your schedule long enough.”

You smiled softly, giving him a grateful nod.

It was strange, you felt like you’d known him much longer than eight hours and yet you weren’t quite friends…you weren’t enemies either, but definitely not friends. How is one supposed to say goodbye to a non-enemy/non-friend? You settled on holding out your hand to shake. Rafe just looked down at your palm, huffing a laugh at the gesture.

“Well,” you shrugged, smiling back, “Merry Christmas I guess?”

He took your hand, giving it a firm shake and a squeeze, “yeah, Merry Christmas I guess.”

With a nod, you stepped around him and got back into your car, pulling up your GPS and entering your home address. So long as the ferry was still running on schedule and there wasn’t too much traffic, you’d get home with about five minutes to spare.

You put the car in reverse and got ready to back out of the driveway. You tried to keep your eyes fixed on the rearview, but you couldn’t help but steal one last look at Rafe as he walked through his front door.

Only, he wasn’t going inside. Or maybe he couldn’t go inside? He stood at the front door shaking the handle and having a very animated conversation with someone on his phone. Something wasn’t right.

Even though you knew you shouldn’t, you cracked your window slightly to hear the phone call. His back still turned to you, Rafe didn’t notice you could hear him and kept talking, loudly…

“The Bahamas? Are you kidding me?...I can’t believe you guys just left without me...well I wasn’t and then I got a ride…this could’ve been avoided if you’d just sent the jet like I asked…since when are you concerned about that?...well what the hell am I supposed to do now?!” 

The last question was said with a raised voice, aggression seeping into his tone. He made like he was about to say something else, but was cut-off, his shoulders falling as the voice on the other end got so loud that it carried all the way to your car. You couldn’t make out the words, but whoever he was talking to was clearly shouting even louder than Rafe had just been.

“Y-yes sir…I’m sorry…yes sir…no sir…okay I will…I lo-”

The phone beeped three times and the screen went black. Rafe stared down at it for a second before slipping it in his pocket and lifting a rock close to the door, retrieving a small silver key. As he raised it to the doorknob, his eyes caught yours in the reflection of the glass.

“You should get going,” he said, turning and noticing your window cracked. “You’re gonna miss your cookies.”

Fully busted for eavesdropping, you rolled the window the rest of the way down, “did they…are they not home?”

“Nah, they decided to spend Christmas in the Bahamas,” he explained.

“Oh. So you’re just gonna be here, like, alone?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not a Christmas guy anyway, remember?” He gave you a tight lipped smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Are-are you sure? You could…” You couldn’t quite bring yourself to say it. Were you really gonna offer for him to come home with you? You barely knew him, surely you couldn’t bring him home for Christmas. 

The offer fell dead on your lips, but Rafe knew where you were going with it, the pity in your voice a little too much for his pride.

“I’m really fine,” he said, nodding his head toward the road, “you should get back on the road. You’ve got a schedule to keep”

You gave him a soft smile as you put the car back into reverse, feeling guilty the whole way out of the driveway.

----❄----

Turning the Christmas radio station up, you tried to focus on gingerbread cookies as you waited in the long car line to get back on the ferry. 

He wasn’t your friend, in fact, he was kind of an asshole to you all day. You didn’t owe him anything. Plus, he surely wouldn’t be comfortable at your little house in the country. Not when he was used to all the flash of this island, the one his family seemingly owned based on all the signs with their name on it you passed on your short drive. No, he’d be fine. You’d get your cookies and he’d be fine.

“Ma’am,” the Ferry ticketing attendant tapped on your window to get your attention. 

You sighed deeply as you looked at the big ship, then down to your GPS, telling you there was only a minute to spare if you were gonna get home on time. 

Home. Yours, warm and full of love. His, empty and dark.

“We’ve got a schedule to keep,” the attendant urged. “Are you boarding or not?”

----❄----

The house was still dark but for one light glowing through an upstairs window.

You knocked three times, Rafe’s confused face finally appearing behind the glass. He opened the door with a questioning furrow of his brow. His bag was still packed, sitting right inside the door. You reached down to grab it, throwing it over your shoulder as you said, 

“You owe me a cookie.”

(part two)

a/n: merry everything! I had so much fun writing this! There will be 3 more parts, just a lil present from me to you <3 there will be some hurt, but mostly comfort and a stocking full of fluff!

for updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs. to be tagged, just ask in the replies or send me an ask!

taglist: @itneverendshere @rafediaries @promiscuousg1rl @eolsens @inlovewrafe

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (pt.2)

As the weeks went on, Gaz and Soap would constantly try to pull you into the walk-in. But Simon's stare made you stop dead in your tracks every time. You've resorted to going over to their place, it's always a surprise who's gonna end up on top of who. During breaks between rounds, you'll catch up on a show you were all watching or playing video games and eating snacks. It's light, fun, young, energetic.

"The boys keeping you satisfied?"

Price asks during one of your smoke breaks, he's leaning against the railing again. Your eyes dart to the floor, embarrassed.

"I could take proper care of you."

The words drip from his mouth and run up your legs, making you squirm. He chuckles, a deep rumble from his broad chest.

"I'll pick you up 7 tonight."

Flicks the butt of his cigar onto the wet cement before walking back into the kitchen. Your hand shakes as you finish your cigarette.

The outing was nice, he took you out on a real date. You wore a tasteful dress that he was obsessed with the moment he saw you in it.

Made you order something expensive from the menu.

"Gotta keep you well fed, hm?"

You couldn't argue with him, he held an air of authority even outside of the kitchen. Conversation was pleasant, he kept it appropriate. Actually, that whole time he was an absolute gentleman. Walked you up to your flat. You gave him an anxious kiss that made him laugh softly and you quickly slipped into your studio. You pressed your back to the door, heart pounding. You squinted through the peephole and watched as he turned around, walking away. As soon as you swung your door open, he was stepping inside your place and scooping you up. He gripped your ass while holding you up, his hands positioned in a way that allowed him to rub your folds through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Already wet? Knew you'd be a good girl for me."

You melted in his arms at those words. Gently laid you right on the bed, pulling back to slip off your heels and left kisses from your ankle to inner thigh. He moaned when you giggled from his beard brushing against your soft thighs.

"Fuckin dogs, markin you up like your theirs."

His lips grazed over the hickeys Gaz and Soap left on your hips and thighs. He pulled the dress up and over your shoulders.

"Those sexy fuckin eyes of yours, Christ."

He kneeled over you, taking you in. Your moans, touch, smell, all that was left was your taste. He sunk back down between your legs and had you coming faster and harder than Soap or Gaz. He was down there for hours, only coming up to briefly cram his thick dick into your tight hole just long enough to leave you being for more when he pulled out. So much restraint he had. Only reason he finally finished was because he had to get up early tomorrow. Painted your sore walls with thick ropes of his spend,

"G'na take it all like a good girl, yeah?"

He held your face to muffle your moans with his mouth while he finished pumping into you. Wouldn't even clean you up, just gently pushed whatever leaked out of you back inside. Then he held you close and fell asleep, effectively trapping you in his arms. He ends up driving you to work the next day, taking you in early so he can prep with Ghost. Simon seems more grumpy than usual (it's because he's the one who's supposed to drive you to work, creature of habit he is).

"I'll let you pick her up next time. Don't get mad at me for being a gentleman."

Price sighs while portioning out meat. You swear you see Simon huff.

The drive home was silent as usual, but there was a tension that wasn't present before. Sure, there's been an uneasy or awkward air in the car before, but this was different. You needed it to stop being quiet.

"...sorry for not telling you about John taking me today."

You sat on your hands, staring at the veiny hand gripping the gear lever.

"S'alright, he told me."

His tone was unreadable as ever. He parked in front of your building, looking at you with those dark, intense eyes. You shifted uncomfortably, about to open your mouth to say something.

"G'night."

He interrupted, you nod and step out of his car to your door. You fumble with your keys and turn around to invite him in, he's already locking his car door and headed towards you. Oh fuck.

He doesn't even let you take your shoes off, just flops you onto the edge of the bed and haphazardly pulls down your jeans and underwear, folding you in half.

"Open."

He grunts, shoving two fingers into your mouth, getting them slick with your spit. He roughly fingers your sweet spot until you are overwhelmed with pleasure, then he undoes his pants. You gasp. Literally gasp at the sight of his length.

"That's not going in me."

You blink at him. He looks at you, stroking himself.

"Alright."

He shrugs before slapping his shaft on your wet folds, then rubbing himself against you. He goes at this for what seems like forever, occasionally his tip catches in your entrance before he slides out and continues to grind against you. It's maddening. Finally, you break and beg for him to slide himself in. He does so with no hesitation or concern for your poor walls. Bullies his way inside you until you physically can't take anymore and pounds into you ruthlessly. He covers your mouth with a rough hand while the other toys with your nub. You squeal, yelp, moan. It's all muffled; only to be heard by his ears.

"Atta girl, takin it like a champ."

You were barely keeping it together, each hit to your cervix made you see stars. It hurt. It was heaven. Your eyes rolled back.

"Don't look away from me."

He grabbed your face, making you stare right into his brown eyes. That's what pushed you over the edge, he rode out your orgasm before reaching his. Your heavy breaths filled the room. That's when he finally decides to pull off your shoes and pants. He was surprisingly good at aftercare, made you both some tea (why did he know where everything was?), wiped you down, and put on some cooking competition show. He was into it. Very into it.

"How do you fuck up beurre monté?"

He says to himself, shaking his head while the contestant on TV cried about messing up a sauce. It goes on like this for a while, shitting on chefs choices and mistakes. Your stomach rumbles, he looks at you. Offers to make something. You remember how the food at the restaurant gets sent back. A lot. Decline politely. He walks to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge and cabinets. You'd say something, but you know you can't stop him. Twenty minutes later he hands you a plate,

"Shakshuka."

It looks...edible. He sits at the end of your bed, eating and watching his show. You take a spoonful into your mouth. Fucking delicious.

"Best I could do with what you had."

He made himself home, slept like he paid the bills, splayed out and snored louder than a Harley. Pinned you right under his arm, mouth right next to your ear. You barely get any sleep.

The next day you drag your feet back and forth from the kitchen.

"Fuckin hell Simon, you kept her up all night?"

John shook his head, burning another steak. Simon grunted, plating the meat and placing it on the window. You served the food to the customer and walked back to the kitchen.

"That's my hoodie."

Soap pointed at Ghost. It was obviously Soap's, they were both well built but Simon's arms and chest stretched the fabric.

"So?"

Simon shrugged, sweeping the floor.

"So? I gave it to her."

"S'fine, she has enough of your shit."

Soap looked at you, betrayed. You shrug, you were too tired to even notice what Simon was wearing.

"Didnae ye notice yer favorite hoodie was gone?"

He looked at you, eyes sad and blindingly blue.

"Give it a rest Johnny."

"'But it's 'er favorite. Right bonnie?"

You nod (you don't have a favorite, but obviously he needs this) and he sighs in relief, smile plastered on his face. Pesters Simon to give him back the hoodie.

"Keep it somewhere safe, aye?"

He hands it to you, holding it like it was a damn fabergé egg.

While Simon and you were walking to his car, Kyle and Johnny run after you, insisting on seeing your place,

"What, only they get to see your flat? It's not fair."

So puerile, Ghost rolled his eyes.

They oohed and aahed at your flat, fawning over your decor. You're thankful for splurging on a king sized mattress. Gaz slept like an angel, but Johnny? Even in his sleep he was restless, kicking and talking. You make a note not to have Ghost and him over at the same time.

Two days later, Johnny almost drops to his knees when he sees Simon in your 'favorite hoodie' again.

[sturniqlo]

KINKTOBER WEEK 3 | SMASH OR PASS- M.S

summary: where playing smash or pass with fictional characters turns into something more with matt

cw: cursing, SMUT; slight dom!matt, making out, fingering, unprotected p in v, backshots, creampie, spanking, hair pulling, aftercare

an: happy smutday- i mean thursday!!

masterlist | kinktober | join my taglist

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

tonight, y/n and her best friend, matt, were having a sleepover. before the night even started, matt had picked her up from her place and drove the two of them to the store to buy snacks and drinks for the night ahead of them.

as they walked around the grocery store, she had realized just how full the cart has gotten. "fuck, we've gotta get rid of some stuff." she picked up a random bag of peanuts. "bro, i didn't even realize how full it got." he giggled, picking up a few snacks he actually wanted.

once they arrived back at her place, it was matt's turn to order dinner for the two of them. "how's pizza sound?" he asked, his phone open to the postmates. "so good, get a stuffed crust, please." she looked at him with pleading eyes. "i will, i will." she smiled, she then went back to look for a movie.

that was a few hours ago. they were now playing smash or pass. "okay, okay, uh- the guy from tangled." matt snaps his fingers trying to think of his name. "flynn rider?" he nods. "oh i'd smash him any day. he can break into my tower." she smirks, taking a sip from her soda can.

"you're insane." matt laughs. "okay, my turn. let's see... betty boop." she looks at him. "smash... that's a classic, too easy. give me another one." she smirks at the thought. "fine.." she thinks for a few seconds before speaking.

"me." she smirks, raising her eyebrows at him. "y- you?" he stutters. "me." she confirms. "i- i would." he gulps, feeling himself grow hard at the thought. there had been far too many thoughts of her in that situation. "you would what?" she scoots closer to him. "y/n.." matt whispers.

"you would what, matt?" she repeats, feeling herself getting wet at the way he said her name. "smash." he finally says. "yeah? you'd fuck me?" she grabs a hold of his chin, bringing their faces inches apart. "i've been thinking about it for so fucking long." he wastes no time, brings his hand to the back of her neck and pulling her in for a kiss.

"mmm." she hums in satisfaction, feeling his soft lips on hers. their kiss hard and messy. she pulls away for a second, pushing him back so that he rests against the back of the couch. climbing onto his lap, matt's hands come to rest on her hips. "are you okay with this?" she asks him. "more than okay." he smiles before closing the gap again.

their tongues fight for dominance, his winning so he now has control. her hips roll against his and she feels his hard bulge. "so hard already, matt." she mumbles against his lips. "all for you, babe." he grips her ass in his hands. she gasps at the sudden feeling.

as they keep making out on the couch, she pulls away and throws her hoodie off of her and tosses it somewhere in her living room, leaving her in her bra. "fuck." matt groans at the sight of her cleavage. "can i?" matt presses a kiss on her shoulder, his finger ghosting over her bra strap. "yes, take it off for me."

his hand comes behind her back, easily unclasping her bra. he lets it fall down her arms before grabbing it and tossing it with her sweater. "so beautiful, look at you." he mumbles, awing at the sight of her tits. her nipples hardening at the change in temperature. matt brings his hands up and squeezes one in his hand, running his thumb over her nipple. she gasps.

"you like that, yeah?" he smirks, rolling the bud between two fingers, hearing her whimper. she nods, rolling her hips against him some more. "stand up." he says lowly, patting her thigh. she does as he says and he stands behind her, moving her loose hair over her left shoulder. pressing wet kisses along the exposed skin of her neck. she sighs in pleasure, leaning her head against his shoulder.

matts hands come around her her waist, caressing the soft skin of her belly, slowing creeping down to the waistband of her short. "take these off for me, please." he says into her ear, fiddling with the button. she hums, replacing his hands with hers, unbuttoning her jean shorts and letting them pool around her feel. "good girl." his hand comes back down, slightly touching her covered cunt. she practically moans at the pet name.

"on the couch." he nips on her neck and pats the side of her thigh. she nods, getting on all fours on the couch. her forearms resting on the head of the couch, and her ass sticking out. matt discards of his shirt, coming up behind her and rubbing his hand over her ass cheek. "so pretty." he mumbles, kissing up her spine. his hands runs up her body.

he then pulls back, admiring her almost naked body. he looks at her thin grey thong that already had a wet patch. "look at you, already so wet for me." his fingertip tracing her covered slit. "matt." she whines, arching her back at the small, yet teasing touch. "what, baby?" he smirks knowing she's getting impatient, just wanting him to do something.

"please." she turns her head around to see him and wiggles her ass against him as he leans his front against her. he groans at the contact, his cock feeling suffocated under his underwear and jeans. "so needy, yeah?" matt spanks her. she jolts at the sudden impact, the sting hurting so good. "again." she leans her head against her arm. "you like that? such a dirty girl." he rubs his hand over the red skin before hitting that same spot again, making her whimper.

matt looks down and sees that the wet patch on her thong has grown. he curses under his breath knowing he caused that. he wastes no time in booking his finger on the sides of the material and slides them down to her thighs. she helps him out but lifting each one of her knees so he can slip them completely off. she spreads her legs a bit more, giving him a better view of her dripping pussy.

matt sees her glistening core and grows harder, unbuttoning his pants to give him a bit more freedom. "so wet." he whispers, dipping his fingers into her hole, collecting some of her wetness. "please, matt." she's had enough of his teasing. "okay, okay. i'll give you want you want." he leans and gives her shoulder a kiss.

finally, he slides his two fingers from her hole down to her clit. he circles the sensitive bud. "shit- just like that." she pushes her ass back, moaning. "you like that?" his fingers moving back up to her hole. pushing two of his fingers in slowly, letting her get used to the feeling. "f- fuck!" she gasps, feeling his long fingers massaging her walls.

"so good, matt." y/n says. matt pumps his fingers faster, seeing his fingers shining with her arousal when they slip out. "keep- keep going." she starts to feel the pressure build up in her lower belly. matt can feel her pussy clenching around his fingers and slips out before she can get closer to her climax. "matt." she whimpers at the loss of contact.

"sorry, baby. i want you to come on my cock." he licks his fingers clean. "taste so good." y/n turns on her back and sees matt with a flustered look on his face, shirtless and his unbuttoned pants. she brings her arms out and matt hovers over her his hands coming to rest besides her head. her arms go around his neck. thier lips colliding into a messy kiss. y/n can taste herself on his tongue.

"gonna fuck you now, back on your knees." he cups her cheek, pressing one last kiss on her lips. she smirks at his words and turns back around into her original position, arching her back a bit more. matt slips his pants off along with his boxers, letting his hard cock spring up. he rubs himself a couple of times before running his leaking tip along her folds.

"y'ready, baby?" he bites back a groan. "yes- fuck." she whimpers. matt, slowly pushes his cock in holding her hips to steady himself. "oh- you're so big." she cries, feeling his dick stretch her out. matt groans as soon as he bottoms out, looking down to where they're connected, seeing her hold stretch out to accommodate to his size.

"move- please move." she puts her hand over his that rests on her hip. matt nods even though she isn't facing him. he starts to thrust in and out of her. "oh fuck!" she throws her head to the side.

"feel so good wrapped around me, baby. shit!" he slaps her ass cheek. seeing the skin turn red. "matt!" he groans feeling her pussy clench around his dick. "squeezing me so hard." matt reaches up and wraps her long hair around her hand, slightly pulling on it. "yes- yes!" she moans at the stinging of her scalp. matt pulls on the makeshift ponytail until she's on her knees leaning flush against his chest.

matt continues thrusting into her from behind, kissing along her neck and moaning into her skin hearing her moan from him hitting deep spots inside of her. "fuck- i'm so- i'm so close." she brings a hand behind his head and turning her head so they can meet in a kiss. "mm." she hums into the kiss. matt pulls away from the kiss, holding her chin in his hand. "come for me, come all over my dick."

"yes- gonna come for you." she whines, her eyes fluttering in pleasure. with a couple more thrusts she's cums. "fuck! i'm cumming!" she turns limp against him. matt rides her through her high and he then cums inside of her. "so good." she mumbles. "you did so good for me, babe." he coos, moving bits a pieces of her hair from her face.

matt carries her from the couch to her room to clean her up. knowing her place like the back of his hand, he knows where to get a rag. he cleans himself off before going to back to her and wiping the cum that is seeping out of her. she slightly hissed. "m' sorry, almost done." he kisses her thigh. matt gets her to pee before changing her into a pair of sweatpants and hoodie.

"well, i'd say 'smash or pass' was a great game since it ended up with us fucking." matt says as he lays on her. "you're unbelievable, matt." she giggles. "answer this one f'me, smash or pass... jack skellington." he looks up at her.

"smash."

[roturo]

₊˚ෆ FALSE GOD

warnings: masturbation, sex, smut, porn with no plot, unprocteted sex, overstimulation, use of toys, cunnilingus, mentions of low/high sex drive, dom/sub dynamics, shaming, humilliation, blue balls, edging, corruption kink, mentions of somnophilia, and twitter links. (Gojo, Geto & Nanami)

author's note: this is not a goodbye, but take it as a see you soon writing.

part 2 (coming soon if it’s well received)

gojo satoru

He's been annoying you the whole morning while trying to coach the kids on their training– slapping his hand away everytime it lowers down from your lower back and giving him a glaring look.

Both of you talked about this. Not letting his high sex drive come across work, and mostly in front of his students.He looked like a lost puppy, searching for attention and someone to relieve his needs.

“Gojo. Stop it–” You pushed his hand away from you, looking back to see if someone else noticed what’s going on. “But I can’t princess, I need you right now~” He whined in your ear, he was about to throw a tantrum if you continued neglecting him this way. It’s been two weeks without sex, can you believe it? Two weeks! He prefers fighting Mahito’s annoying ass again on his own rather than pass one day without inside you.

“It’s not the time right now– and I'm not in the mood either.”

Okay. First of all he knew you weren’t too into sex, and he accepted it! He respected your boundaries, and he didn’t only want you for the sex, he loved you for who you are! But the way you said his last name instead of his first name, and looking like you were about to slap him turned him on even more.

He wouldn’t stop whining and throwing tantrums for your touch, opting for dismissing the class early so they could go to sleep or wherever, it’s weekend anyways. 

Both of you sat in silence in his office. Waiting for someone to break the tense silence thanks to him— and he was about to do it, but the moment your mouth opened his mind got in control of your sweet voice.

“Get up and take your pants off. Briefs too-” His eyes light up like a kid when receiving a lollipop for behaving like a good boy he is. He took off his shirt too, feeling like it was drowning him and taking the air out of him because this was the first time you were really taking control over all this.

“Sit.” He did as you said, his cock proudly standing tall and full of cum to dump wherever you wanted him too. But he wasn’t too lucky this time, because the moment you stepped closer to him and his desk, searching for one of his blindfolds he usually leaves there– you kneeled down infront of his, massaging his hard balls that made him moan out loud– taking them in one hand, they were heavy. His blindfold was around them, in a knot– tighten them. 

The moment you started jerking off he knew he wouldn’t come as easy as he would. It was wet, really wet– and all thanks to his pre-cum leaving his cock, he was begging for release, he couldn’t come, literally and physically. It was impeding him from cumming, it felt ten times worse than not having your touch– He had it now, but at what cost?

“Aw, look at those blue balls!” You laughed in front of him and slightly slapped the red swollen head of his cock– he was crying, he never did. But it felt so good but it hurt so much at the same time.  You took off the blindfold, cum coming out like a big wave, wetting his abdomen, part of his chest and your neck too. His moan almost sounded like a scream, cries and nervous laughs coming out of him– He came but you continued jerking him off, this time overstimulating him instead of edging him– He doesn’t know what was worse. Coherent words were long lost, babbling out trying to stop himself but he couldn’t move himself, way too lost in the pleasure to be able to stop you.

“Let’s see if you can atleast last a week without acting like a fucking horny virgin bitch this time mhm?, let’s make you cum again just to make sure, yeah?”

geto suguru

Geto is a morning wood guy. And he knows you have a low libido, actually Suguru is the only one you’ve sex with. 

“I’m scared of dicks ´guru” You whispered, kneeled down in front of him, you were at his dorm, it was 11 P.M and you decided to lose your virginity to Geto assuring he’s the one and you’ve never felt safe in someone else’s arms– he chuckled and looked at you with loving eyes– one of his hands caressed your cheek, “How are you going to be afraid of dicks and want to suck me off at the same time princess? Mhm?”

He laughed at himself at the memory, now you were 6 years together and he’s eager to know how your life is going to be with him, having a wedding, getting a house together, making you pregnant… full of him, shit. This is not helping with the main problem right now.

He’s a decent man. At least that’s what he thinks about himself– he’s not horny all the time like Satoru. Maybe that’s his form of love language? Satoru is a weird ass anyways– he thinks to himself while scrunching his eyebrows together, –stop thinking about him Suguru!, it’s going to make you puke instead of helping the problem… He was looking at the ceiling of your room while you’re sleeping right beside him. He doesn’t want to wake you up, you deserve to have a nice and comfortable sleep.

But the pain down there is not going anywhere, not even with a cold shower. He knows to identify his morning woods– living with them for his whole life, I guess. Unconsciously one of his hands is now touching himself through his boxers making him moan, his free hand quickly covering his mouth and looking to his side to find you still sleeping.   

He swears he’s about to slap himself to stop this and suck it up, but he feels your hand stopping him. “Are you okay baby?, I heard something and I thought you hurt yourself or something.”

Oh my god… How could you be so… pure? So perfect for him, always making sure he’s okay, your sleepy voice sounding deeper than your normal voice… His shirt is way too big for you that he swears if he moves his head a little higher he could see your nipples. Shit Suguru, you turned it sexual again!

Should he just… ask you? beg you? beg and cry for some release? Would he sound as horny as a teenager? This problem should be for teenagers! Not for a grown ass man like him!

“Um… I might just had a little problem down there”

“Might? Little?”

His flushed face was cute, his body was fully uncovered by the blankets, leaving him with his chest exposed and a clear wet patch on his boxers.

“C’mon baby, let me help you” He called out your name, trying to stop you the moment you placed your hand on the elastic of his underwear— in one swift motion you freed his cock, catching a glance of how swollen it was due the negligence of the past weeks. 

The moment Suguru felt the cold breeze on him, he came.

He fucking came with no touch.

Damn embarrassing.

“Aw, cute. Want me to suck you off?”

nanami kento

You haven’t rushed things with Nanami yet. Both of you were such a cute couple that made people gag. 

He’s amazing, not like any other boys you have met before, he treated you nice, spoiled you and mostly respected you– in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman. 

He’s such a hard working guy, such an inspiration, so committed to both of his works that you tell him if you ever get married you’ll be the best housewife he could ever have because he deserves it.

But one thing about Nanami is that he keeps things to himself. Just like the boner he has right now by imagining you being his little housewife. He really needs to leave this office right now and relieve some… stress.

The last weeks have been hard for him, naturally affecting your relationship with him. He was always tired, even more earnest and quiet. You know he’s bad at telling what he feels, and he’s always stressed by something– but you have never seen him like this. Like ever.

When he tries to distress himself he just keeps failing over and over again, not being enough and having to suck it up and continue his day with a hard poking erection most likely visible in his pants. That’s why he remains seated most of the time.

But one day he went to your house after work. It was impossible to not notice his erection even when he’s trying to hide with his briefcase or on the sofa. 

“Take your pants off Kento.” You’re not a big fan of sex, Nanami knows that, he hasn’t even had sex with you before! So this caught him by surprise, the red on his cheeks spanding through his neck.

“E-excuse me? I’m sorry, what honey?” 

“You heard me, take your pants off.” He’s seated on your sofa– unloosened tie, two or three bottoms of his shirt undone, messy hair, in his socks but that damn thing was literally capable of breaking his pants if it didn’t have some release.

He slowly started unbuckling his pants, losing his mental battle and accepting what he needed, and if you were willing to do it, all he could do is take it– but dear god, it was even worse.

All you would do is touch him. Through his briefs. Just the feeling of your fingers through them. Touching the tip was the worst part.

And he couldn’t believe that the most simple touch is capable of making him cum with just your fingers than him raming and jerking off the hardest he has ever tried.

[narcjsistx]

𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐇𝐂𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 | sae, shidou, rin (part two)

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

— sae itoshi

✶ Sae seems like someone who actually likes to wear bracelets, rings or necklaces, but can't wear them often due to the matchs he plays, where he would risk breaking them. going back to the basic concept, his gifts would probably be matching jewelry, especially rings... so, in case you were someone who wears them and rarely takes them off, he would try to do the same thing. during matches he would hang the ring on a string that he would put in his pocket or around his neck, kissing it before starting the match or squeezing it after scoring a goal

✶ I don't know exactly why, but beyond the canonical fetish for the ass, I see him as someone who would aim to have a partner with well groomed hands, like nails with polish, smooth and without calluses. he's not a big fan of PDA, the only thing he would do is hold your hand and occasionally leave a prying kiss on the back. in private he is certainly more open, and one thing he loves is massaging his partner's hand; it's a gesture he now makes almost unconsciously

✶ Sae didn't have instagram until he met you, you practically forced him to create an account! he resisted his manager telling him to do the same for a long time, but for you it was only enough once. he just put a profile photo, you had to do it for him the bio and some highlights, about past or future matches. a few days later you opened instagram and noticed that his account had a highlights that you hadn't created, entitled "her": you opened it and there were some photos of you, the ones that Sae considered most important (even if he loves them all). needless to say, your heart was about to explode

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ as a child he may have thought about it a bit, but after joining ReAl he didn't have the time to think about it again. he wouldn't mind having a family sooner or later, but probably after winning the U-20 world cup. two children would be fine, possibly a boy and a girl. he just knows that in some way his children would remind him of him and Rin as lil kids

✶ jealosy level: 5/10

✶ flirtiness level: 7/10 (let's specify, ABSOLUTELY NOT in public, but in private maybe he would indulge in some jokes)

✶ pet names: "amor" / "y/n" / "pretty"

—————————————

— ryusei shidou

✶ even if it doesn't seem like it, Shidou is relatively a normal person as a boyfriend... is there a concept of personal space? not that, but otherwise it's normal. the only "flaw" he may have is that he must CONSTANTLY have his hand touching you when you're together, whether it's a hand on your thigh or an arm around your shoulders: he simply needs to feel you. PDA is no big deal for him: he want to kiss you in front of everyone? he will do it, whatever the cost. if you say he can kiss you after winning a game and it's live nationally, why can't he do it in front of his group of homies?

✶ Shidou seems like someone actually very deep, or at least that seems to be described in some parts of his character sheet. Late night chats are literally the level of mental intimacy he hopes to achieve with his partner... he's someone who doesn't sleep much, so he has a lot of energy and hardly gets tired even after hours of talking. You and him tightly hugging on his bed, lights off and just everything that goes through your head... doesn't everything seem perfect?

✶ you know very well that every time he has a match he makes comments that, let's say, put him in a "bad light", or in any case make him seem less interested in you. before being with you he didn't mind saying things like that on the field, and more or less the same thing has remained since you got together as a couple... BUT THERE IS A BUT! every time, once the game is over and above all won, he makes sure to run to you before even celebrating with his teammates: whether you are in the VIP area or not, he will come to you to kiss you with all the passion he has. let's say he uses his method to reconfirm to the people that he is happily taken

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ GET MARRIED AND HAVE MANY CHILDREN AS POSSIBLE? YEAAAAH. no okay maybe not like that, but on the issue of children he doesn't lie... certainly with the career as a striker he has, he has no problems with money, and therefore with maintaining kids. let's say that for marriage it's different... he doesn't find any sense in it, in reality, he only sees it as something superficial: if he loves you and you know it, why have such a ceremony?. so let's say it's 50/50: he would do it if you asked him but at the same time he wouldn't mind not being married

✶ jealosy level: 1/10 (he trusts you too much to even think about it)

✶ flirtiness level: 10/10

✶ pet names: "doll" / "darling" / "love"

—————————————

— rin itoshi

✶ Rin hides under his serious and calculating gaze a boy who simply needs to vent after everything that happened with his older brother. Before being together as a couple he would never have expected to be able to cry in front of someone, but with you it was all quite natural: it took months and a lot of patience to show him that you really cared about him and that you wanted him to feel comfortable with you, but in the end he let himself go and was finally able to tell someone what not even he himself could explain. he'll never admit it but he believes that was the moment he realized how important you really were to him, and how much he simply wanted someone who could understand him

✶ He has a sort of fetish for seeing you in his clothes: it doesn't matter if the clothes are tight, big or the right size, just seeing you in that black sweatshirt of his or in his PxG uniform is enough to send him into crisis. he can't even explain to you why he likes it so much, but the fact that you're wearing something that smells like him is definitely a valid reason. you once surprised him by showing up at one of his matches wearing a jacket with "rin" written on the back, and we can say that he appreciated it to the point of having to prove it to you in some way: that time the match ended 9-0, goal all marked by him

✶ He may be one of the best if not the best, but after finishing the practice he simply needs to rest with you next to him, even more so if the coach was more unpleasant than usual or he simply did a lot of things wrong due to distraction (which is impossible considering it's Rin). Whether on the couch after cleaning himself or in the shower, while you rub shampoo into his hair it doesn't matter, he just needs to feel your presence

what would he post on socials ↓

✶ as a child he often saw other children playing at being married, but he was never actually interested, also because on the one hand it disgusted him to think of having to be tied to a person forever and kiss them on the mouth. as he's grown up he's changed his opinion, he's definitely the marriageable type and he'd actually like to get married as soon as possible: what's the point in leaving you legally free if you've stolen his heart?. let's say that he has a fairly positive opinion about children, he just knows that they arrive after a certain amount of time after marriage: he would like to have two girls... growing up as one of two brothers, both boys, he knows how boys are more problematic than girls

✶ jealosy level: 6/10

✶ flirtiness level: 3/10

✶ pet names: "y/n" / "love"

[sugutiva]

❝ THAT P ★ SSY GOT POWER ! ❞ — G. SATORU

ᥫ᭡. synopsis : for some reason . . . the strongest sorcerer in the world ( purposely ) got struck by a lust curse.

tags : smut, p in v, oral sex ( f! receiving ), enemies to lovers (?), reader folds quickly LMAO, gojo eats us out against the wall . . . again, hair pulling, pussy spanking, overstimulation, teasing, cowgirl, switch!gojo, slight orgasm denial, creampie, cursing, dirty talk, all lowercase intended, not proofread !

a/n : if this flops again tumblr is RACIST.

“ we need you to go talk to gojo satoru, and convince him to come back to jujutsu high.”

oh. so he’s the reason why you’re attending a meeting even though it’s your off day.

your face twists into an expression of displeasure, not only from the burdensome demand of gakuganji and possibly the other higher ups, but from the sound of his gravelly voice ringing throughout the spacious room. nonetheless, you bite your tongue. “ seriously, me? why would i ever do something like that?”

it’s extremely rare as a sorcerer to catch a simple day off, and the fact that you were called in to fetch a man-child to come back to his responsibilities was . . . aggravating. to say the least.

gakuganji continues, “ his disappearance has already gone on further than we’d like,” he takes a pause to lift his head slightly, looking you dead in the eyes. “ so seeing how you’re the only free adult, we chose you to go fetch for him.”

you cross your arms and legs before leaning back in the couch. as he explains in more detail on how there’s an increase of curses, and how no one's teaching the second and first years, ( not like they’d mind ) you start to feel a twinge of sympathy.

sure, you and gojo don’t see eye to eye sometimes, but it was unusual for him to go missing all of a sudden and leave everything behind. ( although he’d eerily fantasize about killing the higher ups whenever he was provoked enough ) you uncross your body before standing up from the couch swiftly.

“ i’ll check on him. but i wouldn’t guarantee a return from him,”

“ great choice, [last name].”

- -

all for jujutsu high and humanity.

giving three loud knocks to his door, you wait, and get no answer in response. “ gojo satoru, can you open up already?” you yell, surely loud enough for him to at least crack the door open. still, you get no answer from the other side.

just as you were casually mapping the outside of his house for an easy way to get inside, the door swiftly opens. there stood the man in question in all of his glory; he wore grey baggy sweats— and it seemed like no boxers underneath because of how his white happy trail seductively peeked out from underneath while the print of his cock was hardly concealed. the upper half of his toned body shined in a coat of sweat while he leaned his upper body against the door frame.

was he exercising. . . or maybe doing something else?

“ you just gonna stare at me after almost breaking my door off it’s hinges?”

shit. he caught you practically gawking at him.

“ i— um. we need to talk,” you gulp, feeling more nervous compared to any other time you’ve talked to him before. “ you‘ve been playing hooky for quite too long now and the higher ups are on my ass about it.”

he stares at you unfazed, you stare back.

but to your surprise, instead of slamming the door in your face and hiding away for longer, he shifts his body over, enough for you to come inside.

“ geez. those hags don’t ever know when to fall back.” he dramatically groans as you hesitantly step in to take your shoes off before walking in further.

vaguely, you swear you felt the weight of his eyes tracing your figure as you walk into his apartment, heading to his living room. you choose to brush it off.

inside it’s modern and creepily bare, like there’s no one actually existing in here— including this alluring scent. it’s not bad but it is heavy, as if a burdensome weight is on your shoulders. definitely musk but the strong scent of cinnamon is also within the mix. again, you brush it off while sinking down into the couch cushions, too late to turn back now.

gojo walks in later than you, and instead of sitting across from you— he plops right next to you, sluggishly resting his long arms on the back of the couch while manspreading, his freakishly lengthy legs invades the little space you have. your face contorts into an expression of outwardly discomfort. “ why’re you sitting right next to me, gojo?”

“ you rudely wake me up by pounding on my door, and now i can’t sit where i want in my living room?” he blows out a breath of air while rolling his eyes with a level of sass that makes you cringe slightly. “ girl. you really don’t have any manners at all. not like that’s a surprise tho—“

” please, let’s just focus on the reason why i came here.” you curtly cut him off, barely refraining yourself from slapping him in the head now that his infinity was off.

you knew he wouldn’t listen in the first place, so the sight of his head hanging off the couch while his leg rocked up and down rhythmically like this was the most boring lecture he had to sit through shouldn’t really piss you off— but it does. you let out an exhausted groan while rubbing your temples to soothe your growing headache. you really wish you hadn’t picked up the phone today. “ do you even care about the effect your disappearance has caused right now? you really are a careless manchi—“

“ i need to fuck you.” he bluntly states.

what? you couldn’t had possibly heard that right.

“ i-i’m sorry?”

he shifts, his body is now upright, contrasting his previous lazy posture. “ you want to know why i’ve been gone?” he waits for you to nod, which you do. “ i got struck by some sort of lust curse, so in order for it to go away, we need to fuck.” you don’t get a chance to fully register his words before his lips are on yours.

you feel him sigh into your mouth, as if you two making out on his couch relieved him from all his frustrations. you can’t deny that you’re into it like how he is, especially when he rolls his raging bulge into the inside of your thigh so desperately— but this isn’t the reason why you came here. obviously gojo thinks otherwise.

“ g-gojo! we can’t,” your voice trembles, and so does your body as you push the white haired man away from you. when he looks back in your eyes, you immediately notice that there’s truly something wrong. his pupils are wildly dilated— to the point where you can barely see his signature blue.

the intensity of his gaze freezes you in place. but you can’t shake off the feeling of being lured in.

almost like he’s hypnotizing you.

“ says who, baby?” his hand creeps down to the waist band of your pants, he tugs on your panties, only letting them go so they can soundly snap back against your skin, making your hips jolt in his grasp. “ don’t deny it now. i bet ya’ she’s gonna be leaking f’me.” the palm of his hand grinds down on your clothed mound.

this time, you’re the one to pull him into a heated kiss, and he matches your energy fully. your nails scratches at his undercut, forcing a needy moan to leave his chest and wander into your awaiting mouth. the kiss is so intense that you don’t realize that he’s taken off your pants along with your underwear until your bare skin touches around his while he carries you into his bedroom.

he presses your back to the wall only to hike you up further on the wall— the way how you’re positioned is that you’re currently using him as your own chair.

“ you do the most. are you really going to eat me out against a wall?” you tut, knowing that you’re not actually against the idea. your question isn’t answered with words, but when he presses moist kisses leading from your thigh to your soaked cunt, you think you have a inkling of the answer.

he blows on your erect clit before focusing his attention on your flustered face. “ for someone who was pushing me away . . . you sure are soaked.” your mouth opens, most likely with a bratty response. although it’s quickly forgotten when he presses a spit filled peck on your clit. there’s a line of spit that connects him to your cunt as he pulls away. “ ‘m not tryna embarrass you. just find it quite adorable.”

“ w-will you ever just shut up, and eat me out? i’m sick of hearin’ your mouth, gojo.” you murmur, watching as his grin grows impossibly wider— the bastard is riling you up on purpose just for his twisted entertainment. there will be a time later on tonight where you’ll get him back for that.

but for now, you need to feel his tongue mapping out every inch of your pussy.

he huskily chuckles, you want to ignore the effect that the sound does to you. “ heh. i got you baby,” with that, he rolls his tongue out on your heat, licking a fat stripe of spit in the direction to your pulsing clit. your body shudders as you finally get what you desire; your sworn enemy eating you out while your figure is trapped between him and a wall.

and oh is he nasty with it.

“ s-shit— you’re doing s’gooood, satoru!” you lewdly whine out, the knuckles of your hands turn a shade brighter than your skin as you tug on his pristine hair. moving away from your clit, he focuses on sloppily flicking your opening with his tongue. “ satooooru!”

for this being your first time hooking up together, gojo is uncannily skilled at fucking you dumb with only his tongue. it makes you yearn for what else he can do to you next.

gojo pulls back from your cunt, the lower half of chin is alluringly coated with your juices and his saliva. “ damn. she tastes too fuckin’ good. and why have you been keeping this away from me for so long?” he mutters to himself rather than you. his hand comes down on your cunt as a harsh smack, he delivers another and another before waiting for your reaction. when more slick dribbles out your hole, sliding down to your ass, it makes him want to go beyond feral.

“ looks like i’ve got myself a masochistic slut, heh.” no more is said as his mouth resumes back on your pussy, throwing you back into that wave of euphoria. the muscles in your thighs twitch, drawing him closer to your syrupy madness.

satoru moans, his hips bucks up on the wall as if to find some friction while splitting you down with that wonderful tongue. your toes are curled, back lifting from off the wall and every strangled moan you yell makes him thrust his tongue faster, along with his hips— the distant pleasure coming from fucking the wall is not near enough to make him cum, not that he’s worried about that, as your hypnotic taste is making him shamefully pussydrunk.

“ oh. ooooh, ‘m so close, you’re gonna make me cum!” you pant out while instinctively clamping your walls around his tongue shoving itself in. he’s more determined than ever, messily tongue fucking you while kneading your ass in his big hands. how he manages to hold you up by your ass only, it’s still a wonder.

your hips have a mind of their own as they grind down for your sweet release, and at this rate you don’t know if your pulling him away or closer to you. but when he hollowly sucks at your empty hole, that triggers your powerful orgasm.

“ d-don’t stooop! i’m cumming!” your eyes clamp shut as you throw your head back before bursting out into trembles. satoru continues to listen to your earlier words. he delivers kitten licks onto your clit just begging for his attention. “ satoru— i’m too sensitive,”

he doesn’t care to listen.

finally, he comes up from the spot between your thighs as your recovering from yet another messy orgasm. “ okay messy girl, as much as i love eating you out— i think you should show me some attention too.”

wordlessly, he carries your limp body over to his bed— in the traditional bridal carry this time. you think it’s somewhat romantic, but of course gojo has to ruin it by chucking you on piece of furniture, making you meet his incredibly soft duvets face first. “ the fuck?” you gain composure by lifting yourself on your hands and knees, looking back to throw him the nastiest glare you could muster. “ i swear at this point you’re getting no pussy, gojo.”

he pays your words no mind. as he pulls his pants down, his cock uncontrolledly springs free from it’s restraint. fuck, it was so big and pretty. the sheer length will no doubtfully have you feeling over cockdrunk, his tip flushes an angry red that makes your mouth water.

“ what about not getting any pussy?” he cheekily mocks you, stroking the head of his cock to smear the pearly pre-cum down his length.

“ shut the fuck up and get on the bed.” you whine, struggling by the second to keep up your bratty facade. the sound of the bed dipping under his body weight makes you flip over on your elbows and spread your legs wide for his gaze.

complying, he still rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. “ geez. okay daddy,” his hands grabs you by the thighs and yanks you on your back completely. he presses the slit of his head against your clit, watching with delight as your folds compliments each side of his cock like a lewd hotdog. “ yer’ so mouthy but that’s expected, gonna have to fix that little problem though.”

“ i’m the mouthy one? that’s real fuckin’ funny coming from the one who cannot shut up for one second to save his life.” you bitterly cackle, although your voice comes out shaken from the audible clicks of your pussy getting played with. when he slightly dips into the warmth of your opening before trailing upwards to your clit again, you resist the urge to strangle him. “ — if you’re teasing me, i’m going to hurt you.”

he rolls his eyes unenthusiastically at the cold stare you give him from underneath your full eyelashes. “ tsk. you’re no fun, baby.” with one swift movement, he’s sinking into your gummy walls with a relieved groan.

maybe, because of the high side effects of the lust curse running it’s course is the reason why satoru finds himself cumming too early with not even a full pump.

and it’s a lot.

“ s-shiiiit— that was t-too early, can’t s-stop!” his body bursts into violent trembles— mimicking your own previously. hot ropes of cum taints your walls with the sensation of his cum while his hands grab at your thighs with a death grip that will for sure leave bruises later, having you sore for days. you think it’s rather endearing how vulnerable he looks.

gojo was just— if not more, surprised than you were.

it feels like forever when he finally comes down from his high, and you feel out of breath just watching him. “ that . . . that was not supposed to h-happen.” he weakly mutters, his head hanging down from embarrassment. somwhat, you’re prideful knowing that only you had him feeling like this.

“ ‘nd all that big talk just for you to be a one pump champ,” now, it’s his turn to weakly glare at you, “ think you can still fuck me? or do i have to ride you?” you grab a fistful of his hair before tugging his face close, to the point where your breath fans over his open, panting mouth. the pain from your dominant actions shoots through his veins and to his sensitive cock, resulting in it twitching greedily in your tense walls. “ am i talking to myself, satoru?”

“ fuck— n-no.”

you smirk, and to satoru you look exceedingly sexy and evil; a deadly combo. “ my good boy,” you peck his lips, letting the grip you have of his hair go so he can pull out of you. when he does, copious amounts of cum immediately pours from your quivering hole in a thick, flowing motions with a loud popping sound to accompany. with just one load he’s managed to stuff you full.

he flips over while hugging your body close to his. relaxing his figure, he watches as you aligned yourself against him, your shirt long gone by now, and your body is beautifully presented to him with the marks he inflicted upon the free reign of skin.

you could tell he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

“ don’t— don’t think about teasing me now, not when i need you this m-much.” he briefly forgets how to breath as your sticky folds rubs against the head of his cock, drowning in more cum until it reaches his base.

“ oh, you don’t like your own game being played on you?” you grunt, rolling your hips sensually down. his adam’s apple bobs as swallows his growing anticipation he can barely contain. but after a few dragged out moments of teasing, resulting in you feeling torturously edged as well— you finally sink down on him. “ fuuuck . . .” you whisper to yourself.

you lips tremor as you pause, allowing yourself to being properly stretched out as your pussy invites in as much as possible. this isn’t the first time you’ve had sex with someone, but the hefty length of satoru makes you pause before going on. when the dull stinging pain shifts to that familiar mouth watering pleasure, you find your pace. satoru hands fly out to grip the sheets with faux serenity as your pussy continues to clamp around him like a vice grip.

“ haaah, you just couldn’t w-wait to fuck yourself silly on my cock, huh?” his voice is eerily clear, as if he wasn’t a overstimulated mess from his previous release. you make fiery eye contact with him, the way how his eyes are hazed but still feel so heavy on your body makes you almost go numb. “ this is everything i needed baby, shit!”

“ that mouth never knows when to s-shut up.” you mutter out, before the action of you bouncing up and down on his lap increases viciously. the sinful sounds of your skin clashing down against his, every inch of him knocking on your sweet spot, and both of your sweet moans combined together sounded like an erotic song that gojo would never get tired of hearing. “ sa— mmph, satoruu!” gojo has the most cockiest but pathetic expression right now; his brows are furrowed while he shamelessly watched you recoil your body against his.

“ i . . . i think ‘m close, keep on rocking your hips like that— fuck, you’re so sexy!” his tip spasms in your tight space as a warning as of what’s about to come.

but suddenly, you stop moving. edging him on with a cheeky smirk.

you cut him off before he can talk, “ we can’t have you cumming just yet ‘toru.” he’s surprised he didn’t bust right then and there when you said his nickname in that sultry tone. you give him a vigorous show by rubbing two fingers on your pearl for his view.

“ such’a needy slut playing with her pussy f’me.” he bites his lip as he watches your clit swirl under your ministrations, his orgasm is on the back burner of his mind while he watches you. “ roll it just like that— there ya fuckin’ go, babe.”

once you feel your pleasure heighten inevitably, you resume back to bouncing on gojo. this time, with your hand advancing rapidly on your clit, and his calloused hands squeezing your ass heart fully. he effortlessly looks attractive underneath you, his chest and neck are flushed a sweaty mess as strands of his white hair sticks to his damp skin around his forehead.

“ wan’a cum with you, toru.” you lean over to nip his throat, your pussy contracts when you feel his breath hitch. “ want to feel you s-stuff me full, pleaseee fuck!”

it’s unintentional, but your whiny voice alone drags him into a powerful orgasm.

it’s not long before you follow suit.

“ my nasty good girl,” his voice comes out as an harsh whisper before he grabs your hair to tug you closer to his face. the kiss you share together is no short of animalistic; it’s all teeth with tongue, and when you pull away your lip is bleeding, tainting his own an alluring deep shade of red.

you force your hips to continue rocking against him due to the frenzy. increased squelches resonates through the fuzzy room along with your combined moans. you feel sparks of electricity shoot through your limbs, your cunt squeezes more slick out, creating a translucent ring around the hefty base of his cock.

there must be something in the air, seeing how many orgasms you pull out of each other.

for some reason . . . the strongest sorcerer in the world got struck by a lust curse.

and you’re able to bring him back a day later, with just your pussy alone.

[sturnsdarling]

'Stay the fuck away from her'

{based on this ask I left in @sturnioz inbox} fratboy!chris leaves shy!reader alone at a party for the first time and it goes south, quickly.

vibe check: fighting, violence etc, pressure to do drugs, fratboy!chris being a guard dog, fratboy!matt being a lil bruiser (i love him) a TINY bit of fluff bc I cant help myself and I'm a sucker for an asshole (fb!chris) with a soft spot (s!reader)

1.6k words

A/N: based on cas' fratboy!chris au. FUCK I love this. I had this idea after cas' lil blurb about jealous!fbchris and she told me to write it so mother gets what mother wants. another day another slay y'all lets fucking go. PART TWO HERE

love and cigs, merc

The frat house was nearly vibrating with the movement of hundreds of people, all moving, dancing, fucking and taking drugs in every millimetre of the house.

Chris and Matt were off doing their rounds with the freshers, Chris handing out his new stuff to all the sorority girls that pushed themselves against him before palming them off to Matt, who was just as uninterested in them but of course, made the moves to make the sale.

Tonight was a big night, it being the first party back after Christmas break so, the boys actually left you by yourself for the first time ever to make their rounds. Of course, Chris had instructed Nate to watch over you, but he was so faded that he could barely look after himself.

You were sat on a smelly couch in a back room, pressed in between two rival frat brothers to Chris' frat, both of them fawning over you as you sat there uncomfortably, shifting in your skin at the sensation of them peppering encouraging touches over you.

"come on, baby, one lil pill wont hurt you" one said, holding a small white pill in front of your face, your eyes nearly crossing as you stared at it.

"yeah, it'll be fun, and don't worry, we'll look after you" the other said, menacingly smirking at his frat brother

you shook your head, "I'm alright, I don't do drugs like that" you said, trying to crane your head back from them.

"theres a first time for everything, baby" one of the boys said, pressing his thumb into your chin, attempting to open your mouth as his friend moved the pill closer to your lips.

Nate was sat on the other side of the room, two girls draped over his lap as he sucked on one of their necks, palming the other ones ass.

"oh fuck" he said as he looked over to you, pressed between two frat boys as they waved a pill in front of your face.

He pushed the girls off him and they whined in a huff. He lifted his lips and pulled his phone from his pocket, opening it and calling Chris.

"Chris, dude, theres some guys here n'there all over your girl, touchin' her n'shit, one of them has a pill and kid is basically forcing it in her mouth" he said down the phone.

Chris didn't reply, only hung up the phone with a tsk sound and summoned Matt to follow him.

Within seconds, Chris was in the room, searching around the sea of bodies for you. He met Nates eyes first, who was once again sandwiched between two blondes. Nate pointed over to the other side of the room to you. The sight made Chris' blood boil, a villainous smile etched across his face, shaking his head and pressing his tongue to the side of his mouth as the thought of what he was gonna do to that kid raced through his mind. You were desperately trying to free yourself from the trap the boys had laid for you, squirming as they touched you and edged a pill closer and closer to your lips.

Chris stormed over, taking a long drag of his joint before tossing it to the floor. Just as quick as he arrived at the sofa, his hands were wrapped around one of the boys shirts, pulling him off the sofa and throwing him on the floor. Everyone gasped, moving out the way and gawking at the sight of Chris coming to stand over him.

"dude what th-" the guys questioning was cut off by Chris coming down on him and clocking him round the jaw with a swift punch.

"Chris!" You shouted, jumping off the sofa and grabbing his shoulders.

He shoved you off him and turned back to the kid underneath him, swinging down once more and cracking his jaw off his knuckles.

"y'think you're hard 'cuz you pressure girls into taking your shit pills? huh, kid? y'think you're a fuckin' gangsta?" Chris screamed as he laid into him.

The guy was borderline unconscious as you screamed Chris' name over and over again. Matt came up behind you, grabbing you by the shoulders, "go stand with Nate" Matt said, pushing you in Nates direction.

You nearly fell forward as you stumbled over to Nate, unable to tear your eyes of Chris as he continued to hit the boy beneath him, never letting up despite the boys pleads.

"yo, get the fuck off him" His frat brother shouted, coming to grab Chris by the shoulders. His movements quickly cut off by Matt, pulling him backwards and shoving him back to the sofa.

"watch ya hands, tough guy" Matt chuckled, grabbing the guy by the scruff of his shirt and nutting him, cracking his nose off his forehead. The guy recoiled, blood pouring from his nose instantly as his hands flew to his face.

Matt pushed him back as he stumbled, meeting him on the floor with a brutal clock across his jaw.

Chris got up off the guy and pulled him up with him, holding his bloodied and swollen face inches from his, "think you're a fuckin' big dog, yeah?" He turned and threw the nearly limp guy on the sofa.

The boy shook his head frantically, holding his hands up as Chris stood over him. "no, no, I don't, I don't, I didn't know she was your girl dude, m'sorry" He stuttered.

"well, now you do, so stay the fuck away from her, yeah?" he spat, moving as if he was going to hit him again.

The boy flinched and whimpered, running away, leaving his frat brother to fend for himself as Matt continued to pummel into him. He was relentless, near enough laughing as the boy lost consciousness underneath him.

"you wanna force girls into doing shit? you wanna be a tough guy n'drug girls jus' so they'll fuck you?" Matt said, pulling the guy up off the ground by his shirt, "hows it feel bein' a fuckin' loser, huh? tell me kid, hows it feel?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" the guy cried and Matt just laughed in his face.

Chris panted as he watched the guy he near enough battered run away. He turned round to Matt, placing a hand on his shoulder and tapping him.

"s'enough, Matt, y'gonna kill him" he said, pulling Matt off the bloodied and battered boy on the floor.

Chris eyes immediately searched for you, finding you tucked into Nate, scared shitless of what you had just witnessed. He walked over to you, everyone in the room still staring at him as he did.

When he reached you, he grabbed you by the back of the neck and pulled you round to face him, taking your face into his bloodied hands.

"did they give you anything? huh? did they do anything t'you?" His eyes searched your face for any signs of drugs or bruises.

"no" you shook your head, brows furrowed as tears welled in your eyes.

Chris sighed and pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. It was weird, Chris never hugged you like this, but as if on instinct you sunk into him, wrapping your hands around his waist.

"m'so sorry I left you alone, y'not leaving my side ever again, okay?" he muttered into your hair.

You nodded into his chest, whimpering slightly at the sensation of Chris breaking the hug.

"and you-" Chris spat, pushing Nate by the shoulders, "y'were s'possed to look after, her not let sketty fuckin' sorority girls distract you, fuckin' idiot" Chris said, insulting the girls as if they weren't right there.

"chill man, it all turned out peachy" Nate chuckled, stepping backwards with his hands up in surrender.

"get the fuck out my face, dude, can't even look at you" Chris spat, turning back to face you, taking your face in his hand once more.

"y'sure you're okay, kid?" he asked, soft eyes baring into yours.

you nodded, leaning into his gentle touch, the smell of iron lingering on his hand as it caressed your face.

"you didn't need to go that hard, Chris, you could have gotten hurt" you said, bringing a soft hand up to wrap around his wrist.

Chris chuckled, soothing a thumb over your face and raising his brows. "does it look like that kid could'a hurt me?" he asked, a prideful grin spread across his face.

You returned his smile and shook your head, gripping his wrist tighter.

"besides, you're important t'me, or whatever, so, I wasn't gonna let that fuckin' loser be all over you like that"

"I'm important to you?" you cheesed

"yeah, whatever, kid, try not to pull a muscle from cheesin' so hard" he rolled his eyes with a smirk.

"thankyou, for protecting me, Chris" you said, tugging at his wrist slightly.

"always" he said simply, before pulling you into a soft and quick kiss, his mouth slotting perfectly over yours, the taste of weed and shit beer lingering on his breath.

You chased the taste, whimpering slightly as he pulled away and dropped his hand from your face. You were smiling from ear to ear as he shifted his weight between his feet.

"wipe that smile off ya face, kid, s'not happenin' again" Chris said, referring to the kiss as he wiped a wet spot off your lip with his thumb.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10

[zeppelinlvr]

"Better?" "Much"

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: waking up next to Dean and getting ready with him

Notes: I promise I'll give Sam some love after this, I love the idea that Dean acts like a dad when he gets up, hacking, coughing, groaning, the whole nine yards. I wanted to thank you guys again for all of the support, you're all so sweet! 💗💗

warnings: cursing, dean and reader playfully argue, kissing, lots of fluff, reader goes to the bathroom while dean is in there, but I promise its nothing gross or weird 😔

w.c: 1k

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The rising sun shone through a crack in the curtains of the motel room. You stirred awake, the light managing to hit you right in the eye. Dean lay next to you, softly snoring, drooling lightly and laying in a position that couldn't possibly be comfortable. You grimaced for him and the thought of how bad his neck was going to hurt when he woke up.

Sam was already awake, he still sat in his pajamas but he was sipping on a cup of coffee and had his computer open, researching as he typically did. He noticed you waking up and gave you a soft smile, not wanting to wake Dean.

You weren't exactly an early riser so you cuddled into Dean, burying your face into his side, trying to block out the light. You found yourself struggling to breathe and let out a sigh, knowing you weren't going to be able to fall back asleep.

Dean groaned as he awoke, grunting as his vision cleared and he noticed your face smushed into him.

“You trying to smell my pits or something?” he said with a small laugh, his voice slightly hoarse from having just woke up

“Love the pheromones” you replied sarcastically and brought your head up to look at him.

His hair was tousled and he had pushed half of the blanket off the bed in his sleep but he looked handsome as ever. Your hair was a mess, the shirt you slept in was twisted around your body, and your sleep shorts were riding up like crazy but Dean still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world, simultaneously enjoying how your legs and ass looked when your shorts rode up.

Both of you were wild sleepers, flipping around in the night, blankets and pillows being pushed off the bed, Dean waking up in a panic when you would jerk in your sleep, and you hitting Dean with your pillow when his snores would grow too loud. The two of you would go to bed cuddling every night and wake up with your arm sprawled over his face and his legs on your side of the bed. Neither of you would have it any other way.

You moved yourself so your head rested on his chest, he brought his arm around you and placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“What's our next move Sammy?” Dean asked, “you found anything yet?”

“There's signs of vampires in Carterville Missouri, it’ll take us about five hours to get there though, so we should head out soon.”

“I can get us there in four, as long as grandma here doesn't have to pee every half hour” he said as he motioned towards you.

“I’m not the one who needs to stop for snacks constantly” you defended “and since you want to be Kevin Harvick with how fast you drive, you can make up the lost time from my bathroom breaks”

“Why do you guys just wake up arguing?” Sam asked

“We didnt, he kissed me then we started arguing” you defended with a sweet smile

“Yeah, come on Sam” Dean added

The two of you received an eye roll from Sam “go get ready, we can leave in an hour” he told both of you.

Dean sat up with a loud groan earning a response of “You sound like a father and you're not even one” from you.

“What are you talking about”

“All dads sound like they're dying when they get out of bed, all that loud groaning and back popping makes me think you need to go to the chiropractor.” you told him

“Alright sweetheart” he responded not even bothering to give in to what you were talking about, and gave you a kiss. You scrunched your nose after he pulled away.

“You need to brush your teeth” you giggled

“Same goes for you”

The two of you got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth at the same time. Dean was at it again with his noises, he was hacking and spitting like there was no tomorrow while he brushed his teeth.

“Jesus, you dont have to kill yourself with the toothbrush you know” You told him after you rinsed your mouth out.

“Teeth won’t be clean if I don't brush em like this” he told you, muffled by his mouth full of toothpaste.

“Okay Dean, I’m gonna pee while you finish up” you said and sat down on the toilet, Dean gave you a nod with his toothbrush still dangling out of his mouth. You scoffed and then laughed at him, unable to take him seriously with his extensive morning routine.

“You look so helpless when you pee” he said

“What are you talking about” you asked with a laugh

“You just sit there like you're waiting for a bus, it makes me feel bad” he explained “at least I can stand up and put my hand on the wall or something.”

You shook your head at his observation, laughing at how ridiculous it was.

The two of you finished up in the bathroom and made your way to your bags to get changed. Sam went to the bathroom to clean up, having already changed. You opted for a tee shirt, jeans, and a jacket you had stolen from Dean. Dean put on attire similar to yours, adding a few more layers than you had chosen to.

Dean made his way over to you and kissed you sweetly, his lips lips plush against yours. He brought one of his hands up to the side of your head, toying with your hair with his fingers. He placed his other hand on your waist, rubbing his thumb back and forth along your hip. You brought your hand under his shirt, lightly scratching along his back, earning a soft groan from him. You knew he was a sucker for you scratching his back, always asking you to when the two of you laid in bed, or after he'd had a long day. You smiled into the kiss at the noise he had made. Your moment with Dean, that was much needed by both of you, was cut short by Sam clearing his throat, your face heated upon hearing him and you quickly pulled away from Dean.

“My breath better?” Dean asked a grin playing at his face

“Much” you told him with a small smile, his minty taste still lingering on your lips.

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[bi-writes]

hmm im thinking about it being the first night simon stays over, and you show him how to take off his makeup. (18+)

he looks tired. you stand in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher with the remnants from dinner. you don't want to spend time washing the full sink, you just want to sit next to him and soak up the warmth of him--you had missed him, and all you want to do is curl up next to him and nuzzle your face into his mask and finally get him into your bed, under your covers.

he's never slept over. he's always been adamant about that. always lacing up his boots after the movie, kissing you through the mask after a warm date, tucking you in when you get too tipsy and leaving water by the bedside table. he always goes, and even if he comes back in the morning, he always makes sure he does not stay over.

even when he fucked you the first time--he waited until you fell asleep, and then he left, and he came back in the morning with breakfast, but you knew he went home because he smelled fresh and he was wearing different clothes.

but tonight, he's staying. because you finally asked, and how could he say no to those pretty eyes? to that sweet little pout?

the distance, he was always trying to maintain it. but it was useless. you are not temporary. there is no end date. he can't keep letting you linger at arm's length.

you're soft and sweet, and your cunt is the same, and when he isn't thinking about being cock-deep in you, he's dreaming of your soft voice and your pretty smile and the tender way you kiss him and the way you hug. the all-encompassing, enveloping way you put him at ease. his rage builds, and one look at you, and it is gone.

as if it never mattered in the first place. as if it was never there at all.

so he agreed to stay. his bag sits heavy in your bedroom, clean clothes inside, and his toothbrush is in the same holder as yours in the bathroom. he lingered on it when he had put it there; two versus one. he never wants to see his toothbrush alone ever again.

he blinks awake when he feels a warm hand on his shoulder. he's still wearing his army fatigues, black cargo pants and his windbreaker, the skull balaclava tucked under his long sleeve to hide any skin. his holsters are still around his thighs, but they are empty, and his vest is on the floor by the door, where his boots are. he feels your warmth even through the layers, and he leans towards it without thinking.

you kiss the side of his head, cupping under his chin gently.

"tired, simon?" you coo softly. "'s alright. we should get you in bed. been a long day."

"mm...olright," he murmurs, and you look up at him as he stands, and he towers over you, making you feel small, but safe. he's a bear, and he's yours, and he's staying.

you take his hand gently, and he follows you. you stand side-by-side in the bathroom, and you smile at him in the mirror as he unzips his windbreaker, revealing the hoodie underneath. his eyes meet yours, and he winks, and you smile wider, especially when his hand falls, smacking your ass nice and firm.

"wot, luv? somethin' funny, yeah?"

you shake your head and laugh, and then you reach for the headband in the drawer, slipping it over you as you prepare to wash your face. you slip a few products out onto the counter, and your mouth goes dry when simon grips his mask from the back of his head and pulls it completely off.

he is so handsome. his nose is crooked; he's broken it a few times, that's for sure. there's a scar deep across his face, jagged over his lips, and you've felt it when you've kissed him before, but it's jarring to see it. there's a few more across his other cheek, along his forehead, and you break out into nervous giggles as you meet his dark eyes. the eye-black around his eyes has shifted with the fabric of the mask and with sweat, but he still looks hot.

really hot.

you swallow hard and turn the sink on, wetting your hands. simon reaches to do the same, and you watch as he brings his wet hands up and starts to wash his face. immediately, the eye-black just smears, and he has to move more over the sink as he continues to wash.

"simon?"

"'s olright. just takes a few minutes for it to come off."

you smile, "here, i...let me help."

he turns the water off, wiping his face on his sleeve, and you giggle when he looks into the mirror and realizes all he's done is smear the black across his cheeks. he laughs with you, deep and gravelly, and you reach into the drawer and pull out two bracelets made of absorbent fabric.

"give me your hands," you say softly, and he does, and you slip the bracelets over his wrists. "keeps the water from running down your arms."

"fuckin' annoyin' when it does that," he grumbles, and you smile. you reach across the counter, opening a small jar.

"it's called double cleansing. you take this balm--" you get a dime-sized amount onto your finger and you put it into his hand, "--and then you rub it into your hands until it becomes...kinda oily. it'll take off all of...that--" you motion to the black streaks along his face.

"oi, are y'on the piss?" he laughs, "it'll take it oll'off?"

you giggle and nod, "yeah. try it."

he rubs his hands together, warming up the balm, and then he reaches up and massages it into his face. you watch, biting back more laughs, when he realizes how much easier the eye-black moves, coming off onto his hands. when he washes it off, it's nearly gone, and then you give him a dollop of face wash to help rinse the rest away. he dries his face on a towel, grinning in the mirror, and you hug his arm gently as he takes the bracelets off.

your eyes meet again in the mirror, and he smooths his hands down your waist, moving you in front of him, leaning over your and putting his face into your neck. he warms the skin there with soft kisses, and you laugh, buzzing with delight.

"you're so beautiful, luv," he growls in your ear, and you close your eyes.

"you're...y-you're beautiful, too, simon."

"yeah? come off it."

never. you'll never come off whatever high you're on now. you reach up and hold onto him, as much as you can grab, and you close your eyes as you kiss, his lips on yours, something hot in your chest and something soft in your insides.

you hold onto him tighter. you will not let go.

[inklore]

— qimir x f!reader why would you run from him after everything he's shown and given to you. you are supposed to be his perfect acolyte. crafted for him. contents: p in v, over stimulation, semi yandere qimir | wc: 559+

You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come. How many positions he has put you in. How many times you have begged him for a break, to rest, to catch your breath, to stop the throbbing between your thighs that only gets worse the more he fucks you. 

The more the underside of his cock rubs against your swollen clit. His fingers digging into your thighs as he holds your squirming thighs apart. The force taking over when he grows tired of holding you open for him. 

“Please.” You whined. 

“You sound like you didn’t cause this.” The lack of empathy on his face only makes it worse. Only makes your skin burn and gather sweat, barely filling your lungs. The underside of his cock pushing back and forth through your slit, wet and loud in your eyes. “You did this to yourself.” His words mock you just as much as your arousal does. Evidence of how many times you’ve come, of how your body is spent and can’t stop giving itself over to him. Letting him pull, take, and use you. 

The more his mouth sucks at your clit, the more his fingers curl up inside of you and press against your walls, the more you gush around him. His eyes on yours when you declare you can’t come anymore, and he pulls another from you. 

He allows your fingers to dig into his hair to try and push him away from your swollen cunt. The corner of his mouth pulled up when the flick of his wrist has your hands unable to move. 

Making a show of how powerless you truly are against him in so many ways. So many ways that should fill you with fear. Should anger you. But only heat your cheeks in the opposite effect. The reasons as to why you ran from him long forgotten, long regretted, long praised and thanked by the haze of pleasure, want, the need to rest—to be devoured by him. 

An overwhelming feeling of not being whole, not being able to be put back together unless it’s by his hands taking you apart in the first place. 

His fingers dig into your wrists, your knees pressed against his chest, pushing your ass up from the bed enough to have his hips driving deeper, harder, against it. The tip of his cock hits that part of your pussy that no longer aches when he’s this deep. When your walls are this swollen and fluttering around the thickness of him. 

His mouth leaves bites against your jaw, “are you going to leave me again?” You shake your head, tears sting your eyes, your body spent and overstimulated yet still pulling him in. Still aching for another release and to be awarded his. 

He groans against your cheek, “all I’ve shown you, given you, and you run from me. What happened to my good little acolyte?” His dark eyes look down at you, a hand at the crown of your head, thumb rubbing a soothing circle against your skull. “Are you still my girl?”

You’ll feel pathetic later, no matter how fast your head nods. A sick swoop of joy shoots through your stomach when he smiles down at you. His kisses, once rough, hard, and demanding, now filled with a passion fueled gentleness that makes you come again. 

[heejake-hoon]

Thinking about needy bartender Jungwon who always gives you extra strong drinks, his eyes roving hungrily over your body as he mixes your cocktails with practiced ease

Needy bartender Jungwon who pulls you into the stockroom during his break, roughly pushing you against the shelves and capturing your lips in a searing kiss that tastes of whiskey

Needy bartender Jungwon who drops to his knees, hiking up your skirt and burying his face between your thighs, his talented tongue lapping at your folds like you're the most intoxicating drink he's ever tasted

Needy bartender Jungwon who fingerfucks you to a quick orgasm, muffling your cries with his other hand as the bar bustles just outside the thin door, the thrill of almost being caught making you clench around his digits

Needy bartender Jungwon who bends you over a stack of crates, yanking down your panties and plunging into you without warning, both of you groaning at the exquisite feeling of him stretching you wide

Needy bartender Jungwon who sets a punishing pace, his hips snapping against yours as he fucks you raw, the sound of skin slapping skin barely covered by the muffled music from the bar

Needy bartender Jungwon who reaches around to rub your clit furiously, determined to make you come again before he loses control, his breath hot on your neck as he whispers filthy words in your ears

Needy bartender Jungwon who feels you tightening around him and increases his tempo, driving into you with abandon as you both chase your release, the rickety crates creaking beneath you

Needy bartender Jungwon who pulls out at the last second, painting your ass and lower back with thick ropes of cum as he groans your name, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm

Needy bartender Jungwon who helps you clean up quickly, a mischievous glint in his eye as he promises to mix you a special "off-menu" cocktail later, just for you

Needy bartender Jungwon who can't keep his hands off you for the rest of the night, constantly brushing against you as he serves drinks, his touch lingering longer each time

Needy bartender Jungwon who pulls you into the bathroom after last call, lifting you onto the sink and dropping to his knees once more, eager to taste you again

Needy bartender Jungwon who makes you ride his face, his strong hands gripping your thighs as you grind against his talented mouth, your fingers tangled in his hair

Needy bartender Jungwon who stands and enters you in one smooth thrust, filling you completely as you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper

Needy bartender Jungwon who fucks you with long, deep strokes, hitting all the right spots as he whispers how tight and perfect you feel around him

Needy bartender Jungwon who increases his pace, pounding into you relentlessly as you both near your climax, the mirror behind you fogging up from your heated exertions

Needy bartender Jungwon who feels you clenching around him and lets go, spilling deep inside you with a guttural moan, his hips jerking erratically as he empties himself

Needy bartender Jungwon who helps you down on shaky legs, already planning how he's going to take you again on the pool table before you leave for the night

A.N: idk if you'd like this format (i wrote almost something like this for all the members (and a fluffy one for Riki) but m not that sure about them), also wrote this at 5 am (again! cause my sleep schedule is pretty fucked up m just gonna kms) so it's not proofread and i'd probably wake up and regret posting this (plz i've been super insecure about my writing these days i can't bring myself to post anything😭😭). Anyways let me guys know how you like this and if i should add some dirty talk in it for the other members or not.

[jungkookstatts]

All Over Again

[Summary]: Paternity leave has its effects on Jungkook. After his first day back at work, he can't help but show you how much he doesn't want to go back.

[Theme]: Dad!Jk, CEO!Jk, Married Couple AU, Parent's AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes. Marking, kissing, nipple play, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up y'all), dom!JK, mentions of another pregnancy, talks of pregnancy and getting pregnant, etc.

[Word Count]: 4,274

[A/N]: This is a pure result of the urge my body suddenly gets to want a child right before my period smh. Anyway, felt cute, might delete later once I am sane.

It’s been a long ass day. Jungkook’s white button-up feels stapled to his skin, his pants folding uncomfortably with every step he makes as he exits his office. A long finger comes up to his neck, digging underneath his striped tie, wiggling it a little to loosen the chokehold it has around his neck. His other hand feels bound to his briefcase, which carries so much importance in his life but yet so much burden at the same time.

It’s his first day back at work after his baby boy was born. The briefcase he holds reminds him of the duty he has to his family — of his passion and his support for you and your baby. But it also reminds him of the time it has ripped away from spending with you. He clutches it with so much strength at the thought of you, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and pressing the unlock button so hard, that he thinks he almost might just break it.

With a deep breath, he takes off his tie and tosses it in the passenger seat along with his briefcase. He’s ready to go home. That picture of you, him, and your son that you insisted on framing and Jungkook bringing to work has been a constant reminder of what he has to look forward to at the end of the day. If only his paternity leave could have been longer. You and his son are all he’s been able to think about. How you were doing, if you needed his help, if Jaemun was being feisty, how the cute crinkle on his nose resembles yours to a T.

It’s late January, and the winter air is unforgiving. He wonders if you have the heat on high enough; if Jaemun had enough blankets, or if the tip of your nose was cold like how it always is in the winter months. He can imagine you holding him close, swaddling him as you sing to him delicately. The thought makes his whole body warm, even though the air is so cold that it feels like glass is cutting against his skin.

He’s convinced he will take more time off. He’s the CEO, after all. He could take months off and it not matter. He wants to be with you always — at all times of the day to hold you and be there for you like he should be. If only the world had been that easy to where passions didn’t have a price. He got lucky, his passion having a heavy penny attached to it. But he wonders where that passion took something more valuable away from him — time. He finds himself now strapped between the choice of time and passion, and he fights the fact that he cannot choose both.

The door to your home is welcoming to his eyes as he pulls up to it. It’s not big by any means. Just homey and enough for the three of you. Even with the snow covering almost every inch of it, the reminder of how warm it is on the inside makes his drive to enter it even greater. He does so with a shiver, coming up to your shared home with a stomp of his boots to shake off the snow just before he enters.

To his surprise, he’s met with hushed music coming from the kitchen as he puts his winter coat on the hook, places his briefcase on the wooden floor, and shimmies out of his shoes. He looks at his watch first, making sure it’s not Jaemun’s nap time, to which he finds out it is. The soft music makes sense now, and he smiles when he makes his way down the hallway to the source of the noise.

The rest of the house is dark except for the kitchen-living room area that you and your baby rest in. Jaemun is peacefully sleeping in his bassinet by the couch, cuddling his dinosaur blanket, while you are by the stove, stirring something.

You look over your shoulder at the sound of familiar footsteps, and your heart immediately softens at the sight of your husband in the doorframe. He smiles back tiredly, running his hand through his hair in an exhausted attempt to pull himself together before he makes his way over to you. He looks relieved, like he’s finally received what he’s wanted all day. You’re happy to see him, knowing all too well that that’s what you’ve been waiting for all day, too.

Big, warm hands slide around your waist, a heavy chin rests on your shoulder as he kisses your cheek softly. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your presence as he releases the tension from work off his shoulders. You tend to have an instant effect on him — he missed you so much.

“You’re stirring water?” he laughs as he stares at the pot of water on the stove, unboiled, as you stir it as if it is.

“I’m trying to get it to boil quicker,” you explain with a defeated sigh. “Doesn’t seem to be working. I feel like I’ve been standing here for 20 minutes.”

He hums from behind you, taking your stirring hand and stopping your motions. You’ve never been a big cooker, but he knows you’ve been trying lately. “Just let it be, love. It’ll get there.”

You do as he says, putting the ladle down on the countertop and turning around in his embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring at the tall man who holds you close against him. You’re met with a tired Jungkook who rests his forehead against yours as you play with the hairs at the back of his head.

“How was work?” you ask gently.

He groans, wrapping his hands around your waist and holding you tighter against him. It causes you to rest your cheek on his shoulder, hugging him in full.

“That bad?” you chuckle.

Your husband just sighs against your neck. “It’s too early to go back, Y/n,” he candors.

You tuck a strand of hair that fell in front of his face behind his ear. “We’re ok, Kook,” you comfort. But he only shakes his head, making the tucked strand fall out of its place again.

“I’m not,” he says. “I want to be here with you. Spend time with Jaemun before he’s suddenly 25.”

You chuckle at that. It does feel like that sometimes. It’s been three months since your son was born, but it feels like it was just yesterday that you were holding him for the first time.

You can only hold his cheek in response, running your thumb slowly against his soft skin. You feel for him, you really do. He’s such a good father. It makes your heartstrings tug and twist and pull every time you see him with your little boy. It’s only a matter of time before you have to go back to work as well. The thought makes your stomach turn, and you can completely sympathize with your husband dreading going back to work and leaving you and Jaemun.

“Your water is boiling,” he breaks you out of your daze.

“Oh,” you turn around. You smile, knowing he was right before. “I’m making pasta if that sounds ok?”

Jungkook kisses your neck in response, a gentle thing that has your tummy flipping for a second.

“You could also probably wake up our son,” you check the time on the microwave. “He’s been a little sleepy today, so I let his nap go for a little longer than usual.”

You add the pasta in and turn the water down, moving over to the greens left on the cutting board. You start chopping until your husband’s lips move lower.

“Our son,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone. The statement makes him jittery. It feels unreal still, even after nine months of waiting, and another three of actually having your little family here with him. You’re his wife, the mother of his kid, and he loves you more than anything in the world. You gave him something he can never find an equivalent to giving back to you. You gave him your heart and a family, and there’s nothing that can replace or overcome what that means to him. His soul lives for yours; it’s overwhelming what you’ve done for him. It’s overwhelming how you make him feel.

He kisses your collarbone softly once again, his heart full. You tilt your head to the side for more, and he gives it to you, kissing up your neck with slow wet kisses.

“Kook,” you exhale gently. You feel him hum against the skin just under your ear. Large palms cup your waist, his body moving closer to yours, trapping your hips against the countertop. Your knife feels loose in your hand when he bites at your skin gently, his tongue brushing over the bite mark afterward.

He stirs something within you. Something that you’ve missed terribly for the past few months. It makes your thighs tremble as he gently caresses your skin under his fingertips.

“The baby—“ you begin, but Jungkook’s motions cut you off yet again when his fingers slowly slide down your front. He’s unsure, his hand hesitating over your skin as his breath stops momentarily in thought.

“Is this okay?” He asks you genuinely. You nearly fall to your knees, dropping your knife onto the board, when his fingers put pressure over your clothed mound. It’s subtle, and much more gentle than what you’re used to with him. You know he’s being cautious, but god did you miss him. “If it’s too much, I’ll pull away.”

You shake your head.

It’s been a long time since the two of you have gotten intimate. Childbirth wasn’t easy, and your doctor just recently gave you two the “ok” for sex. The first time you tried since then wasn’t like what you’re used to with your husband. It was slow and painful, ending with a lot of apologies, embarrassment, and frustration. It’s safe to say that you have to get used to sex all over again.

“No,” you lean against him. “J-Just be gentle. I’m still a little sore.”

“Ok,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly. “Just relax for me, baby. I’ll make it feel good, I promise.”

You nod, loosening your nervous shoulders as your husband takes control. He stops swiftly for a second, turning the stove on the lowest setting before looking over his shoulder at his son to ensure he’s still fast asleep. Once he sees that he is, he immediately returns to you.

“So good for me,” he says, slowly circling your clit over your sweats. His other hand squeezes your waist before it moves up, sliding under your shirt and trickling over your breast. You’re wearing a soft bra today—one without an underwire—which makes it easier for him to slide his fingers under.

You whimper when he softly massages your boob, his fingers playing with your nipples gently. Your body, especially your breasts, has become 10x more sensitive since birth. You can feel everything, and everything either hurts or feels really really good. Whenever your husband seems to hold them, you’re a whimpering mess, melting like putty in his arms as he plays with you.

“Sensitive,” Jungkook smiles. His fingers rub harder against you, and you subtly buck your hips against him. His lips graze against your skin, his hair tickling your collarbone as he assaults your neck over and over again. 

“You’re so cute when you’re pregnant,” he rasps against your cheek before planting a sweet kiss upon it. “Wanna see you like that all the time. So full of me — carrying our babies.”

“Jungkook, I—” you whine, grasping onto his wrist. You’re unsure what to do with yourself, wanting him to do so much to you, but not knowing where to start.

The man behind you takes his hand away from your mound, and he chuckles when you whine in protest. But his thumbs hook on your pants and underwear, slowly pulling them down.

“Relax, baby,” he asks again. “I told you, I’m gonna take care of you. Don’t worry.”

His hand slides around your waist again, smoothing over your skin until it’s sliding between your folds. The back of your hand comes up to your mouth as your other grips the countertop for support as he plays with you.

“So wet,” he moans, feeling the effect he’s had on you with his fingers. “This all for me? I’ve barely touched you yet.”

You nod, feeling completely at the mercy of the man behind you. His other hand plays with your nipple again, and you feel another wave of euphoria go straight to your pussy.

His fingers gather your slick generously, smoothing it over your clit before circling it gently. He plays infinities over it, making your knees go weak. It’s getting harder to stay quiet, especially when he pinches your nipple gently, making you gasp at the soreness and pleasure it causes.

“K-Kook,” you whine, but he only chuckles, quickening his motions on your clit as he presses further into you. You can feel his dick strained against his work pants, and the thought of him inside you again makes you feel so needy for him. “Want you,” you pant. “Please.”

“Patience,” he shushes you, kissing your neck surely. “I haven’t even made you cum yet.”

“Wanna cum with you,” you whine in protest.

“You will,” he promises.

You gasp as he switches his finger, his thumb trading places with his middle. It circles over you just the same, except this time, it’s joined by his middle finger slowly inserting itself between your folds.

“Oh,” you exhale, feeling weak when he pumps it in and out of you slowly.

He lets himself test your reactions, seeing if the insertion is too much — if it hurts or feels uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem to be, and he slowly lets his ring finger join with his middle, causing you to roll your eyes back slightly.

“So good for me, baby,” he encourages. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you reply almost immediately.

He kisses your neck. His lips leave hot, wet marks all over your skin as he curls his fingers against your g-spot. His other hand quickly comes to your waist, stabilizing you as you whimper against the back of your hand, trying your best to keep quiet.

He circles his thumb faster, his fingers circling and brushing against your g-spot in tandem with his movements. You feel your orgasm looming over you, and with a certain pressure against your clit, you’re coming undone just as he said you would all over his fingers.

“There you are,” he coaxes you. You’re a whimpering mess, and he feels his dick twitch at the sight of you falling apart on his fingers. He helps you ride out your high, his fingers very gently brushing over your clit as you come down.

Once you're calmed down, you reach around you, playing with his belt loop as you rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. He looks back down, hesitating again knowing what you want but unsure if it’s too much for you to handle yet.

“What,” he smiles teasingly with a kiss to your forehead.

“I want you,” you candor, looking at up him with pleading eyes.

He kisses your nose. “Are you sure? You said it hurt last time.”

You nod. “Please, Koo,” you beg him.

His chest rises, and he takes a deep breath before he nods, kissing you gently as he unbuckles his belt. He places it on the counter before unzipping himself and pulling his pants down. It springs up, pressing itself against your skin gently. But he takes himself in his hands, hesitantly letting it slide down over your folds. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” He says, lining himself up to you with a few strokes of his cock. God, was he nervous. The last time sex hurt really bad for you, and that was just a week ago. He wonders if the prep was enough; he hopes it was, he really doesn’t want to hurt you again.

You nod, holding onto the countertop again as his tip rubs against your entrance. Your coat his cock in such slickness, even you’re surprised at how much you leak onto him. You miss your husband. You need this bad, and so does he.

“Oh, and try to stay quiet, yeah?” He says with a push of his hips. The motion has him covering your mouth with his hand, shielding your moans quickly. “The baby is still sleeping.”

His dick slips past your folds so smoothly, it has you gasping for breath at how good it feels. It’s nothing like the last time. He’s gentler, but still so so big, he fills you up just right.

“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck once he sheathes himself fully inside of you. The man behind you stills, completely overwhelmed with the feeling of you. He, too feels like he’s had to relearn sex all over again. How to please you right now that your body has changed, how to make sure that you are comfortable with his pace and size. You two haven’t had sex like this in so long, he feels overwhelmed when you feel almost too good for him to control. A part of him is embarrassed by how quickly he thinks he’s going to last. 

“How are you still so tight, hm?” he asks with a firm grip on your hip. “Y-You okay?”

You can only nod, pushing your hips down against him. The motion forces him further into you, to which both of you grunt at the feeling.

Testingly, Jungkook pulls out slowly, before pushing back into you a little quicker than before. You coat him generously, creating a motion that makes it easy for him to repeat. 

He develops a pace, fucking you against the kitchen countertop with your juices leaking all over his cock and down your thighs. The stove is on and your baby still sleeps; there are uncut vegetables in front of you and your husband still wears his work shirt. But he fucks you as if none of that matters. As if his only priority is to make sure you feel good, to let yourself go as he fuck you deep and just how you like it. 

His hand comes off from your mouth and settles on your hip. His other hand wraps around your front, holding you impossibly close against his body.

You moan softly when he bends you over slightly against the countertop, the new angle making it hard for you to stay quiet. But you push your hips against him anyway, telling him without words to go deeper.

The action causes him to moan, following your request with a snap of his hips.

“You like it that much, hm?” He grunts, cock ramming into you. “Like it when I knock you up good?”

“Y-Yes!” You whisper. “I love it so much, Koo.”

“Y-yeah?” He leans over you. A tattooed hand cups over yours, palm embracing the back of your hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Gonna let me do it again?”

“Mmhm,” you squeeze his fingers. “As many times as y-you want.”

“A-Ah,” he pants, mind going into a frenzy over your words. The fact that he is yours, that you are his. That only he can hear you say that. That only he can make you feel this good. That only he has the privilege of calling you his wife. It makes his heart warm and his cock twitch. 

“God, I’m going to ruin you if you say things like that, Y/n,” he warns. But you are relentless, leaning your head back on his shoulder, giving yourself to him further. 

“W-Want you to,” you whimper. “I love you.” 

Your legs shake, completely weak from your past orgasm and your new one forming at the pit of your stomach. His cock makes you feel so full, like you’re stretched to the max capacity as he fucks you good. You know he’s close when his dick twitches inside of you after your words, which only encourages you to gain some strength and begin fucking yourself back on his cock.

“Mm, fuck,” he grips your hips tightly. “M’ gonna cum.”

He quickly reaches around you again, drawing infinities over your clit with his middle finger. His eyes roll back as your cunt naturally tightens at the feeling. Your hips jolt and the knots in your tummy slowly start to unravel themselves onto his dick as you come undone. Just as he had promised, with a final twitch, he’s cumming inside of you with hot, thick ropes filling you up with whispered exhales of your name on his lips.

He lets the two of you catch your breath, his forehead resting on your shoulder before he’s pulling out, shared cum leaking down your thighs and onto the floor. Quickly, he grabs a paper towel from the roll next to the stove and cleans you up a little.

With gentle hands, he helps you back into your sweats before he helps himself into his boxers. He still lingers behind you when he reaches a hand around you and turns the stove on a higher setting once again. 

You turn around, wrapping your hands around his neck as you pull him in for a much-needed kiss. “I love you,” you whisper against him again. His hair falls onto your skin, dark locks intertangling with yours as his fingers come up to hold your face against his. Soft lips sear over yours, telling you things that simply cannot be put into words. 

“I love you, too,” he brushes his nose against yours. “Was that okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

You pause, looking up at his dilated pupils. He looks at you like you're his world; like he's given you his heart with the full intent of never receiving it back from you. You nod, kissing him softly again. 

“You should probably wake up your son now,” you poke his cheek.

Looking at the time on the microwave, he snaps out of his daze. “Oh fuck,” he says as his fingers leave your side. You watch him leave you with a chuckle, turning back to your pasta wondering how in the world you go so lucky to marry and mother a kid to this man. You’d truly give him anything he wanted. 

***

[Bonus]

With gentle hands, so big against his baby’s frame, he picks Jaemun up in his arms, holding him against his chest. His dinosaur blanket swaddles him softly, and Jungkook does his best to make sure he’s correctly supported and held despite the extra fabric over his small frame. 

Jaemun stirs, and Jungkook places a soft kiss on his tiny head before he gets the chance to freak out and cry. The baby seems to know exactly who is holding him, and he nearly falls back asleep at the familiarity of his father’s arms. But Jungkook bounces him against his chest softly, slowly waking him up for dinnertime.

He makes his way over to you, making unnecessary airplane noises, from what you assume is Jungkook pretending to be an airplane and his son the passenger.

“You know, babies can’t laugh until they’re about 4 months,” you shake your head with a laugh.

“False,” your husband comes behind you again. “I swear he’s laughed before.”

You chuckle, taking the pan off the stove and pouring the insides into a strainer. Just the noodles are left in the strainer now, and you realize that you haven’t thought past the part of boiling the noodles. You ignore that you have no idea what kind of pasta you’re making when Jungkook rests himself against the kitchen island. 

Jaemun catches sight of you, and his arm reaches for you in Jungkook’s hold. You come over, giving him a kiss on the forehead before kissing your husband.

“Were you serious?” your husband asks you suddenly. 

“About?” you raise your eyebrow. 

“You know,” he gulps, holding Jaemun a little tighter. He rests against Jungkook's shoulder, his eyes tempting to fall back asleep again. “More kids.” 

You raise both your eyebrows again, looking at him as if he was serious. His heart beats faster when he realizes what you’re thinking, quickly rephrasing himself. 

“N-Not now, of course,” he gulps. 

You turn around, opening the fridge for some milk for Jaemun as you listen to him. You take out a pot, take the cased breast milk from earlier, and pour it in, turning on the stove afterward. 

“I just mean, like, in the future,” he explains.

There’s a long pause as you wait for the pot to heat up enough. The man behind you is weak, and you don’t know if you want to be mean and give him the blunt answer, or soften the blow. Watching how he cradles your son makes you want to go with the first choice. 

“Don’t you worry Jeon,” you start, as you stir the contents in the pot. You can hear him gulp behind you. “I planned on giving you as many babies as you want. But at least wait until Jaemun is in pre-school or something. I don’t think I can handle two infants at once.” 

You hear little from him at your answer, leaving you smirking knowing full well that you put the man behind you in a frenzy imagining the future you just laid out for him.

***

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]