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enchanted-by-fae · 3 days ago

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I Love You (and That’s All I Really Know) - Azriel x Reader

Pairing: Knight!Azriel x Princess!Reader

Summary: You were his princess, and he was just a knight. Azriel was ready to prove he's worthy of your love.

4.2k words

Warnings: Jousting (nothing graphic), fluff, slight forbidden romance, angst kinda, author knows nothing about swordplay or jousting, Az doesn’t have his shadows, Eris is a bad guy in this, low key this is just adorable.

A/N: This is my first one-shot so hopefully you guys like it! The title and the story itself were influenced by Love Story by Taylor Swift. I was also kind of inspired by the first episode of House of the Dragon and the movie A Knights Tale

Azriel knew it was wrong. You were his princess and he was just a knight. The grand tourney would be held on the morrow and Azriel was ready to win. Not just the tourney but your affections as well. He needed to prove that he was worthy of loving you.

The knight had been in love with you for years. He was best friends with your brother, Rhysand. They grew close as brothers, training together to one day become the greatest heroes your world has seen. Alongside their other best friend, Cassian, the three were inseparable.

Azriel still remembers the day he first met you. He was still just a squire and didn’t even know who you were at first when he saw you. All he had seen was a girl chasing a rabbit on the grounds and he couldn’t help but be curious as to what you were up to. He saw you run into the forest after it, leaving him to chase after you. He would’ve felt responsible if something had happened when he could’ve prevented it.

“Hello?” he called out, not wanting to admit he actually was quite afraid to enter the forest alone. He had rumors as a child that sprites and faeries occupied this land and he wasn’t ready to learn the truth just yet. Azriel waited at the edge of the forest for your response but he never heard one.

“Okay Az, man up,” he spoke aloud to himself. He took the first steps into the forest, looking for a sign as to where you could've run off to. “Sprites, if you live here then I beg you to please leave me alone,” he rambled. Azriel was able to find his bravery the further into the forest he ventured. He was going to be the world's greatest knight after all. After searching for a while Azriel began to question if you even ran in this direction. “Miss? Are you there?” he called again.

He stopped for a moment to take in the surroundings, “where did you go?”, he pondered. Most people thought Azriel hated talking, in reality he just didn’t like people brushing him off. He found that the less you talk the more people pay attention when you actually have something to say. Of course, he never was like that with Rhys or Cass. His best friends were the only people he could truly be himself around. Another time he loved talking? When he was alone. He loved talking to himself. Who better to listen to him than- well, him.

“Okay,” he sighed out, “this better not be some game. I’m starting to get freaked out.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” a soft voice said behind him. Azriels eyes practically sprung out of his head as he completely stilled, scared to death at the mystery voice.

“Oh, sorry. Did I scare you again?” a girl. It was a girl speaking. Az let out a massive sigh of relief, finally being able to breath again, and turned to face the person he’s been searching for. You were the princess. He hadn’t recognized you as such when he saw you run off.

“You’re highness,” he immediately bowed. You just stood there, giggling. Azriel couldn’t help but be annoyed at that. “I came looking for you, not wanting to see you in trouble,” he explained.

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” you questioned.

Az thought that surely you couldn’t be serious, “well the forest is a dangerous place. It’s rumored that sprites and faeries live here.”

“Oh, well I haven’t seen any sprites. And I don’t think I’ve seen any faeries either,” you beamed. “I just came to help a rabbit friend,” Azriel thought at that moment you must be insane.

He looked at you quizzically, “a rabbit friend?”

You nodded your head, “yes- well, I mean that we’re friends now. He had a thorn stuck in his paw and the poor thing was in pain. We get along quite well now!” Azriels brows furrowed and you just giggled at him. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” you laughed. He had never heard such a lovely sound before. If he could, Azriel would only listen to your laugh forever.

“I’ve just never heard of someone having a rabbit friend before,” he reasoned.

You just gave him a small shrug before starting the walk back to the palace. “I’m not crazy, just so you know,” you told him. Azriel just looked at you, in hopes of an explanation. “I just think that animals deserve the same respect and love as people. We did invade their homes after all.”

Azriel had never thought of it like that before but he supposed you were right. There’s something so beautiful about nature but then people came along and built palaces and villages. Taking over the land. He admired the way your brain works.

“Hey, you’re my brother's friend aren’t you?” you inquired.

“Yeah, Rhysand and I are pretty close,” he answered.

You looked at him with a smile, “he has good taste in friends then. Thank you for coming after me,” you gracefully inclined your head in gratitude.

Azriel offered a smile in return, “of course, princess.”

“Please, call me Y/N,” you asked him.

“Of course, Y/N,” he corrected. Just then he remembered he hadn’t told you his name, “you can call me Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you tried it out. “I like it!” you proclaimed. Now Azriel was offering you a chuckle of his own. He couldn’t remember the last time someone who wasn't Rhys or Cass got him to laugh. In fact, he couldn’t remember when someone who wasn’t his friends got him to talk this much.

The two of you made your way back to the palace, chatting the entire way back.

“Well, Azriel, I should get back to my lessons. I’m sure my tutor is having a fit,” you explained. “Thanks again for the escort,” you then started the journey to your study and Azriel just stood there watching you walk away.

“My pleasure, Y/N,” he whispered to himself.

—

The two of you maintained a steady friendship throughout the years. You grew into a lovely young woman. Always compassionate towards your people, and you still cared a great deal for animals. You also were pretty brilliant. Azriel found himself amazed at some of the things you came up with. Your mind was one of the things he loved most about you.

As you and he got older, he found himself falling more and more in love with you. He almost confessed it to you just a few months ago at your nameday celebration, but he chickened out at the last moment. He was just a knight. They typically didn’t marry princesses, especially bastards like him.

He did have a plan, however, to make his love for you known. The king was throwing an upcoming tourney to celebrate Rhysands marriage to Lady Feyre. The champion prize was having a wish granted by the king. He planned to ask you for a token of luck before he was to joust and when he won, that will be when he asks for your hand.

—

“Princess Y/N,” Azriel greeted as he found you roaming the gardens, guards lingering behind.

A graceful smile bloomed across your face, “Az, please just call me Y/N,”

Azriel shook his head, a smile of his own appearing, “I just like to tease you.”

“Well don't! It’s not nice to treat your princess that way,” you justified.

“You just said to not call you princess!” he exclaimed. He loved it when the two of you had these playful arguments. They made something in his stomach pleasantly twist.

You were trying to remain serious but couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, “you should still treat me as a princess.”

If things went his way tomorrow, he would treat you as a princess everyday for the rest of his life. He just slightly bowed his head towards you, “of course prin- Y/N.”

You gave him a playful head shake at his correction. “Are you ready for the tourney tomorrow,” you changed the subject.

Azriel tries not to give away his plans for tomorrow regarding you. He wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. “Of course I am,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

You turn towards Azriel, who's now walking beside you in the garden. He watches as you study his face slowly, looking for any signs of deception. Azriel has known you for a long time but you've known him for a long time too. You know all of his tells just as well as he knows yours. Yes, you were definitely onto him.

“That's great Az,” you say finally. He lets out a silent breath of relief. “I’m sure you’ll win, the only other real competition is Cass,” you add.

Az paused, he completely forgot Cassian was jousting too. He should tell Cass of his plan to propose to you. His friend was enough of a romantic that Azriel was sure that he could get him to throw the competition.

Cassian married Lady Nesta just a few months ago and they were disgustingly adorable. Lady Nesta was the eldest sister of Rhysands new wife, Feyre. He thought it was nice how his brothers found sisters to wed. He was even happier to have you all to himself now that Cass was out of the way. There were a few years where all Cassian could do was flirt with you. Azriel had never been more jealous in his life. He eventually snapped and let his brother in on his affections for you. His friend backed off after that.

“Oh, I’m not worried about “The Lord of Bloodshed”, or whatever he wants to call himself,” Azriel teased. Cass had started to call himself that after the first battle the three of them fought together. Az had never seen anything like it, he was almost demon-like out there. It was strange as Cassian was much different when he was with his friends.

You just giggled at Azriels teasing, “You’re not worried about perhaps the greatest knight this kingdom has ever seen, Sir Azriel?” Az couldn’t help the fluttering of his heart as you used his proper title.

“Trust me, sweetheart, if anyone here is the greatest then it's me,” he confidently replied. Azriel didn’t miss the flush of your cheeks at the term of endearment used.

“Then I wish you luck,” you curtseyed, “I shall see you on the morrow then?”

Az gave you a bow and took your hand in his, placing a delicate kiss to your knuckles, “you shall.” Your face flushed to deep crimson before pulling your hand back and stalking off back towards the palace

—

Azriel found Cassian in the training yard, and he wasn’t alone. He found his two best friends in an intense sword fight. Both of them were very good. Az found peace in knowing Rhysand wouldn’t be competing tomorrow, as the tourney was to celebrate his marriage. That just left him to deal with Cassian, who at that moment knocked his opponent on his ass, leaving Rhysand as the loser.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to show his face at training,” Cassian called out to Azriel, helping pull Rhys back to his feet.

“Nice fight,” Azriel turned towards Rhysand, “sorry you had your ass handed to you.”

Cassian let out a chuckle, “he sure as hell did.” Rhysand was not amused, scowling at them both. “Oh wipe that face off, Rhys. You’re probably just tired,” Cass smirked, “Feyre wearing you out?”

Rhysand just looked at Cassian with a devilish grin, “something like that.”

Azriel just stood there, laughing at his friends. “Cassian, could I speak with you about something?” he asked. Cassian just looked at him with a quizzical brow.

“Why do you just need to speak to Cass?” Rhysand questioned, “I am your prince, after all.” Azriel was starting to ponder if pulling rank was a family trait.

Azriel never actually told Rhysand about his love for you. He didn’t want to make him uncomfortable but he supposed it would be nice to have both his best friends backing him up tomorrow.

Azriel took a deep inhale before speaking, “I’m going to wish for Y/N’s hand in marriage when I win tomorrow.”

Rhysand and Cassian dropped their swords simultaneously, staring at Azriel.

“You- wait my sister?”

“Finally!” The two exclaimed at once. Cassian wrapped his arms around Azriel, “you have my congratulations, brother,” he beamed.

“You knew about this?” Rhysand questioned Cass.

Cassian let out a sigh as he backed away from embracing Azriel. “yes, Rhys. I knew,” his response laced with guilt.

Rhysands confusion grew deeper and deeper. The only thing holding Azriel together was that he didn’t seem angry. “How- how long have you been in love with my sister?” Rhys asked.

Azriel shit his eyes, breathed, and reopened them, “since the day I met her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rhysand seemed more hurt than the fact his best friend was in love with his sister.

Azriel felt guilt coursing through him, “I didn’t know how you’d react. I thought you’d be angry,” he confessed.

Rhysand just blew out a sigh, “Why would I be angry?” It was now Azriels turn for confusion. “I honestly couldn’t think of a man more deserving than you to marry her,” Rhys informed.

“You truly mean that?” Az couldn’t contain the small grin he had.

Rhysand nodded, “of course,” he walked over and clapped Azriel on the shoulder, “she’d be lucky to have you. And you’d be lucky to have her.”

“Does this mean I have your blessing then?” Azriel queried.

Rhysand gave him a wide grin, “of course, although it’s not mine you need. How do you plan to convince the king?”

“I have a plan,” Azriel told his brothers before bringing his attention back to Cassian, “I need a favor.”

“Anything,” Cassian responded. Azriel informed his brothers of just how he’ll gain your fathers approval.

—

Azriel was set to fight his first match against a knight he had never heard of until before today, he was good. Not as good as Azriel, however. Azriel beat opponent after opponent, the crowd cheering his name. He loved the rush of the sport but if he was being honest with himself, he only cared if you were cheering his name. Which you were.

Azriel picked out your voice instantly, as it was the loudest. He looked at the royal box where you were seated on the left of your father, Nesta on your other side. When you weren’t cheering for Az, you were conversing with the lady. Azriel thought it was sweet how well you got along with her and Feyre. The latter of whom was seated next to Rhysand, on the opposite side of your father.

Soon Azriel found himself going against Cassian. During the conversation they had the day prior, his friend had agreed to lose. He felt bad asking it of Cass, but Azriel needed to win.

Azriel saddled himself on his horse once more and did a quick canter around the arena. He stopped just below the royal box.

“Princess Y/N” he called, using your formal title considering how public you currently were. His heart skipped a beat as you appeared before him.

“Yes, Sir Azriel?” you questioned, a mischievous smile gracing your face.

“Might I have a token? For luck,” he raised his lance high enough for you to bestow your favor. You nodded your head before you darted off to your seat to grab your gift.

“For you, good sir,” you came back with an intricately weaved wreath of flowers, placing it down on his lance. You leaned over the balcony just enough for Az to hear, “Win my heart, Sir Azriel.” You smiled at his dazed expression before returning to your spot besides the king.

Azriel just sat there on his horse, amazed at what you had just said. He finally snapped back into reality and rode back to his starting position. He was ready to win your heart.

—

Azriel was at his end of the fence, waiting for the signal to face off against Cassian. You were so close. Finally, Cassian emerged from his end of the barrier. Azriel looked towards his friend and noticed that he was riding a different horse. Then he noticed that the suit of armor was not the one Cass wore. And the killing blow was when the knight took off his helmet and revealed the face of Sir Eris.

Azriel called for a time out before the joust could begin, needing to check what happened with Cassian. He took off on his horse towards the opposite end in search of answers.

He arrived towards his new opponent, “Sir Eris, what has happened to Cassian?”

Eris let out a scoff, “you mean that idiot?”

Azriel glared at him, “yes, him.”

“Oh, well you see,” Eris began, “he lost.”

That wasn’t right. Cassian doesn’t lose. Especially to fools like Eris. Azriel never liked him. He was always full of himself. Thinking he was better all because he was to be the king of his own kingdom someday. Rhysand was in line for his own throne, and his friend still maintained humility.

“I doubt that is the truth of the matter,” Azriel defended. He hadn’t seen every tournament today, he was busy competing on his own as there were multiple tournaments being held. It was all meant to lead up to this, the grand finale. Azriel hoped that Eris was just making a show of himself, rather than telling the truth.

“Oh but it is,” Eris smirked, “I knocked him down myself. See for yourself.” Azriel followed to where Eris’ line of sight went, the royal box.

There he sat, next to his wife. Cassian was hanging his head in his hands, upset by the defeat and that he wouldn’t be able to help his brother any longer. Nesta rubbed comforting circles on his back and you moved to sit at his feet in hopes of cheering him.

“I wish you luck, Sir Azriel,” Eris mockingly bowed his head before placing his helmet back on.

Azriel galloped back to his end of the arena. He took a few deep breaths, thinking everything through. He knew he could take down Eris, but it would’ve been helpful if he had the guaranteed win he had with Cassian. If he lost, he’d never be able to marry you. He had to clear all the negativity from his mind. He would win. He could do this. Azriel would do as you told him and win your heart.

The signal went off for the grand finale to begin. Eris galloped down first, charging with might. Azriel followed almost instantly, securing his helmet. Focus. He needed to focus. Azriel, with direct precision, aimed for Eris’s shoulder. It would earn him a few points if the blow landed.

It didn’t. The blow just missed Eris and instead one landed on Azrael's shoulder. One point for Eris.

Their squires handed each of them a new lance, set to begin round two. They began their gallops down again. Eris landed another blow on Az on his shoulder. Eris now had two points on Azriel.

The third round would be the last if Eris landed another blow. The first to three points wins so that meant Azriel had to get at least one point, in hopes of continuing longer with a chance of a comeback. He had another option as well. If he knocked Eris from his horse then he would automatically be declared as the winner.

Az blew out a breath, “okay, I can do this. Just knock Eris on his ass,” Azriel rambled to himself. He never could break the habit. “Easy enough,” he confidently whispered.

Azriels squire handed him his final lance, desperate to get this over with and to make you his at last. The two nights began their descents towards each other, lances ready to deliver their final blows.

This time Azriel aimed further in, closer to Eris’ chest. He galloped and galloped. He had something to fight for. Someone to fight for. You. All he could think of was just how lovely you are and how he so desperately wanted to you to be in his arms.

Azriel landed his blow. Eris missed. He missed and was immediately knocked off his horse. He had done it. Azriel won. He removed his helmet and let out a laugh. Not because it was funny, but because he gets his wish and Eris gets nothing.

Azriel trotted over towards the royal box, ready to face your father. He got off his horse smoothly and there you were, looking at him in a way he had always hoped you would.

“Sir Azriel,” the king started, rising from his seat, “it seems as though congratulations are in order.”

Azriel kneeled before his king, “thank you, your majesty. The honor was mine.”

“You do understand what you receive for your victory, yes?” the king asked.

“Yes, one wish granted,” Azriel nodded breathlessly. He could hardly contain his nervous excitement.

The king took a moment, “that is correct.” The king began walking towards Azriel until there wasn’t much space left between them. “Stand,” he ordered. Azriel did as he said, rising to meet his king's eyes. “What is it you would wish for?” he asked.

“I would like to ask for the hand of Princess Y/N,” he nervously asked. Azriel took a fleeting glance towards you, making eye contact. He wanted to spend forever looking into your eyes. Azriel lost his nerves completely, knowing you were looking at him with such admiration.

“I wish to make her my bride. I wish to make her happy for the rest of her life. I wish to love her, and to hold her. I wish for Y/N, my king” Azriel requested in his most authoritative voice.

The king's face was one of indifference, “are you not a bastard?”

Azriel won the tourney. His birth status should not matter anymore. He was tired of the obstacles in his way. He felt his temper bubble to the surface. That was when Az felt a gentle hand place itself on his forearm. He looked to his side, and there you were.

“Father, the rules stated the winner would have any wish granted to them,” you came to his defense.

“Yes but, Y/N, he’s a bastard,” the king justified.

“I love him, as he loves me,” you proclaimed. Azriel had no idea that you truly returned his feelings. Of course he suspected, that was why he had done all of this after all. Hearing it from you made his chest thunder with excitement. You loved him.

The king looked between the two of you, “you truly love him?” he asked his daughter.

“Yes father, I do. Please grant him this wish,” you began to plead.

Your father looked towards Azriel now, “you truly love her?” he asked Azriel, repeating the same question he had for you.

“I do,” Azriel said without a second thought. “I love her and wish to make her my wife,” he continued, looking down towards you.

You felt his gaze upon you and turned to make eye contact with him, giving him a smile he had never seen you wear before but he somehow loved this one the most. “Please, father” you begged once more.

The king examined Azriel once more, then brought his gaze to you. “Very well, the two of you shall be married,” he declared loud enough for most of the arena to hear. Soon enough applause and cheers filled the open space, the crowd rejoicing in the news.

With that the tourney came to a close, the king and his royal guard taking their leave. Azriel spared a quick glance to his friends as they left with Feyre and Nesta, presumably to give him a moment alone with his fiancée. He loved that he could call you that now. And soon, you'd be his wife.

When everyone in the royal box left and the two of you were as close to being alone as possible, he went to gently take your face into his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you love me?” he asked you.

“Well, why didn’t you tell me you love me?” you retorted.

Azriel let out a chuckle, “you have me there, princess.”

“I’m sorry I never told you. Truthfully,” you removed his hands from your face, pulling them close to your chest, “I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

Azriels eyes bulged, “you- you have?” You just gave him a shy nod in response. “In the name of honesty,” he breathed out a laugh. He couldn’t believe you loved him just as long as he did you. “I’ve loved you since that very day as well,” he confessed.

You giggled, “we’ve both been rather foolish, haven’t we?”

“Yes, my love, I’m afraid we have,” he giggled with you. Azriel wasn’t planning on wasting one more second. He removed one hand from yours, taking it to place back on your cheek. His thumb softly stroked the skin there. He leaned down, hovering just above your lips. “I love you, Y/N,” he breathed out.

“I love you, Az,” you whispered back just before he closed the distance. Finally, after years of waiting, he sealed your lips with a kiss. He had won your heart just as you had won his.

—

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for a little while now so I'm very happy I finally got around to writing it! You are all so amazing, I really appreciate all of your support 🥰❤️

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel x female!reader #afab!reader #rhysand #rhysand sister #rhysand sister reader #cassian #the bat boys #knight au #medieval au #eris vanserra #eris acotar

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bernardsbendystraws · 7 hours ago

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𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐘 — 𝐂.𝐒.

Synopsis: Chris can't fuck you in his balloon-filled room, but he needs you so bad.

Warnings: Smut, BIG DICK CHRIS, raw p n v, sucking fingers, GETTING CAUGHT, creampie, BULGE KINK.

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Loud squelches echo through the living room. Chris is between your legs, pounding into you as you lay on the couch.

“Fuck—shut up, baby. Bein’ too damn loud,” he husks, the grip he has on your legs getting tighter.

The position you're in is unbearably good. Every inch of his length is buried inside your dripping heat, your stomach bulging while he continues to drill himself into you.

“-’m sorry, I—,” the words are muffled as he places a hand over your mouth. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you feel his tip graze that spot—the spot that made it impossible to do anything but scream in pleasure.

Chris huffs, the feeling of your warm, wet walls clenching around him making it harder to contain himself. He wants to pound you even harder, he needs nothing but to see you absolutely destroyed under his touch—but he knows he can’t.

Not when you’re in the living room—Matt and Nick only a short couple steps away from seeing such a lewd scene.

“Shit!” Chris hisses, biting on his lip as he tries to muffle his own noises. But it’s so hard. This is absolute bliss, everything he needed and more.

It’s not his fault his brother decided to pull some fuck ass prank, filling his room with balloons and not even offering to help clean it up. He couldn’t hold himself back when you came over in that one skirt—the skirt that drove him beyond insane.

The second you had bent over, giving him just the smallest glimpse—there was no holding back. He needed you right then, dragging you up to the living room and distracting you from the worry of being in plain sight.

“Chris! Chris!”

Your screams are still muffled by his hand. You feel his fingers dip into your mouth, immediately sucking on the digits while his hips plunge deep—making everything go a hot flash of white as you feel yourself toppling closer and closer towards the edge.

“C’mon,” he husks, sucking on your neck as some sort of method to keep himself from groaning loudly. You just feel so fucking good. “-give it to me—wanna feel you cum all over my big dick, sweetheart,”

He lets out a pitiful noise, every muscle straining as he feels your wetness convulse around him. “Oh fuck—you’re-you’re gonna make me cum, I—”

Your chest is arched into his. The high is excruciatingly long, the feeling of his grip getting tighter as he starts to ruthlessly shovel his entire length in you over and over again. His desperation is clouding his senses, forgetting that you’re hidden in plain sight.

He just doesn’t care. Not when you feel like heaven wrapped around him, not when you’re shaking beneath him. And definitely not when you’re begging for his cum, wanting to be filled to the absolute brim.

“-want it, Chris. Inside…I—please,” you rasp.

His head drops into the crook of your neck, the rhythm of his hips stutter as he lets himself finish deep inside of you, making sure to give you everything.

“Fuckkkkkkkk, all filled up now, huh? Is that better, baby?” he purrs, removing his hand from your mouth and petting the side of your fucked-out face. And holy shit—it’s the perfect sight. You’re so… messy. And it’s all for him. It’s not his fault he’s obsessed. He just couldn’t wait when he saw you in that damn skirt.

“What the fuck?!”

Your eyes go wide as you see Matt in the corridor of the hall.

Instincts take over, you panic while trying to catch your breath.

“I’m sorry, oh my god!” you shout, sighing as you hear his bedroom door slam shut.

As you squint your eyes shut with shame painted on your face, Chris slowly starts to pump himself inside you again.

“Chris, what’re you—”

“Already got caught,” he mentions, his hand grazing down and tweaking your sensitive nipple. “No point in stopping now. I had to wait all damn day for you and I—”

You shriek as he moves his hips sharply, your skin pulsing as you feel his lips brush against your ear,

“-and I’m greedy—so fuckin’ greedy for you.”

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oofmybad · 2 days ago

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“It feels good. Just new”

Synopsis: billie straps you for the first time. That’s legit everything. Nothing groundbreaking.

Warnings: dom!billie x sub!reader, strap, spanking, squirting, mildly rough sex, NOT proofread, I think that’s it.

Words: idk

A/n: this is my first time writing smut. And I wrote it in ~maybe~ 5 minutes max lol. So it’s probably shit. Couldn’t quite get myself to proofread it back. But just wanna post it to get past the shyness pfft. Anyway, enjoy (I hope).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure you want to do this? Because we don’t have to.”

“Yeah, baby. Of course I do. I- i really want you.”

“Ok pretty girl. Tell me if you want me to stop, or anything. You’re in control, always.” Billie says as she lines the strap up to your core.

“Um… Will it… hurt?” You ask, slightly embarrassed of your lack of experience.

“It shouldn’t do if you’re turned on enough. You feel pretty wet to me. But it might feel like a bit of a stretch at first.” Billie says as she strokes your baby hairs away from your forehead.

You take a big breath and hold the air in, anticipating the sensation. “Ok” you say, now determined.

“Uh uh, you gotta breathe, baby” Billie takes one of your hands and places it on her own chest so that you can copy her breathing, “here, follow me”.

You are now breathing at a steady pace when Billie reaches for your hand that’s placed on her chest, so that she can clasp her fingers in between yours, holding your hand that’s now laying next to your head.

“I’m just gonna put the tip in, ok?” Billie says keeping firm and controlled eye contact with you.

Just like that, her unwavering confidence melts any lingering worry away. “Please” you say, the word slipping past your lips like a begging whimper.

“Mm!” You gasp a moment later once Billie has pushed the first inch or so inside of you.

“You ok? Need me to stop, angel?” Billie’s eyes shoot up from your bodies connecting to search your eyes for any discomfort.

“No, no! It feels good. Just new, that’s all” you reply.

“Ok I’m gonna go a little deeper now” Billie warns you before pushing further into your pussy, inch by inch - she periodically waits for you to get used to the new stretch.

“Mmmh…fuck-“ you let out a moan as the full length of the strap pushes against your walls. You let go of Billie’s hand in order to wrap your hands around her back, tightly clasping onto her shoulders with your nails, and pulling her body flush with yours.

“Ugh, god” Billie moans, almost like a reply to your altered, deeper, position. “I can feel you clenching. You feel so good”

“Please give me more, Billie” you plead.

“What do you want, angel?” Billie whispers into your neck, her teeth nibbling at the tender skin of your collarbones.

“I want you to fuck me” you pause to think “…hard”.

Billie pulls her head back to search for any doubt in your eyes, but she finds nothing but desperate longing. Without another word, Billie pulls the strap out of you, quickly ramming it back inside of you repeatedly - your g spot getting hit every time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!” you practically wail out.

“Can you turn around for me, baby?” Billie asks as she positions herself to be towering over you. Pulling the strap out at the same time.

You sigh, almost whimper, at the loss of sensation. But you quickly obey, turning around so that the right side of your face is being pressed against the mattress and your ass is in the air.

Billie lines the strap up with your entrance once again, teasing your clit at the same time, and asks “you ok?”

“Omg yes! Please just-“ you can’t even finish your sentence before Billie thrusts back into you, hitting places you didn’t know existed inside of you, as she smacks ur ass with each thrust - enjoying the recoil.

Your hands neurotically search for something to hold onto. Landing on the pillow above your head that’s leant on the headboard. “God! Oh, fuck” you moan out, panting with every thrust.

“You take me so well, angel” Billie says as she uses her tattooed hand to push up your spine towards your neck, creating an even deeper arch. Billie moans at the glorious sight in front of her.

This new angle sends you into another dimension. You are literally dizzy and seeing stars. “I have to cum! Please!”

“Already, baby? Hold it for me. Be good” Billie huffs as she continues to smash her hips into your ass.

“I can’t”

“Yes you can” Billie retorts as she reaches round to rub your clit again.

“Ah, pleaseeee baby!” You whine.

“I said not yet” Billie snaps sternly. You would be scared of her if you weren’t so turned on. She smacks your ass one, two, three more times to show you how much she means it.

But this only causes you to unravel completely. Moan after moan explodes from your mouth - you not even having a chance to warn Billie that you’re cumming.

From behind you, and through your moans, you can faintly hear Billie’s grunts in time with her hips stuttering against yours. She’s doing her very best to keep fucking you through your simultaneous orgasms.

Hearing her struggle to not whimper is the final straw for you. A rubber band inside your core snaps as you try to warn Billie. “Fuck! I’m gonna pee! Wait!”

Billie, being more experienced than you, knows that you’re gonna squirt so she musters up all the strength she has left. She roughly grips your ass cheeks and uses them as handles to pull herself further into you.

“Uhhhnn. Fuckuhhh” your expletive moans, skin slapping, and the sound of your juices crashing onto Billie’s thighs and the mattress are all that can be heard in your bedroom.

#lesbian #billie eilish #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x y/n #billie x reader #billie x you #billie eilish smut #wlw smut #strappon

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starrdream · 2 days ago

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Unsatisfied apology

Anakin Skywalker x f!reader summary: Anakin wants to make up... includes: not really smut but it's talked about and implied, whiny Anakin, make up sex, fast finishing, no orgasm

Your ex has fucked just about any girl that would let him in hopes of getting over you. As if your friends reminding you constantly wasn’t enough, anyone passing by his room could hear clearly. News flash, it didn’t help him one bit.

Though, the rumor that he still wasn’t over you did feed your ego.

One night, you were mindlessly revising for some tests you had later that week when a knock disturbed you.

“Baby, please open the door. I need to talk to you.” The whiny yet familiar voice still made your heart skip a beat. Or two.

He must be drunk. You thought.

“What?” You huff as you open the door. Not only were you met with a completely sober Anakin, you were met with a crying one too.

Tears streaked down his rosy cheeks, eyes puffy and red. Who knows how long he was crying for.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice laced with concern.

“Can we talk?” He sniffles.

“Yeah” You blurted out before you could even think twice.

Opening the door further, you let him in. Ankin takes a seat on your bed and waits for you to join him.

The second you sat down he started ranting about everything.

“Baby I missed you so much…”

“I fucked up really bad, I know.”

“You’re all I ever think about.”

“I’ll never be over you.”

“I’ve been awful since the day we broke up.”

“No other girl compares to you..”

“Please..Give me another chance, my love.”

He pleaded and whined, all while still sobbing. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t considering it. Just one look at those blue eyes was enough to tear down any kind of resistance you’ve built over time.

“Please baby.” He begged. “Nobody is as good to me as you are. I’m so sorry” He whined, staring at you through teary eyes.

“I don’t know Ani..” You sighed, shoulders slumping.

“But you’re thinking about it.” He straightened up, a hint of excitement in his voice. “Please” He breaks off into a sob. “Let me make it up to you.”

With that, he pushes you down on the bed gently, climbing on top of you.

“Ani-” You try to protest, placing your hand on his upper arm. Unfortunately your voice comes out as a desperate whimper more than anything else, only urging him on.

“I’m so sorry for how I treated you baby” He mumbles, slipping your shirt off. He continues mumbling incoherent words that are interrupted by sobs and hiccups as he undresses you.

“Please say you forgive me..” He stares right into your eyes as he palms himself through his pants before slipping them down to free his rock hard cock.

God knows how long that was there.

“O-okay, I forgive you” You mumble, trying not to laugh at how childish he looks.

“You’re just saying that.” He pouts, sobbing again.

The next 5, 6 minutes of your life were the most confusing ones ever.

Anakin is borderline desperate and his movements are jerky and uncoordinated. He's ground against your thigh like a puppy for at least 3 minutes before finally pushing his erection into your warmth.

He is good in bed, but this? If you didn’t know any better you could’ve easily brushed him off as a virgin.

He's whining and whimpering with every shallow thrust, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs.

Obviously, he did NOT make you finish before he did. He didn’t make you finish at all. The second he spilled inside of you, he collapsed on top of you while breathing heavily.

Upon realizing you were still very much unsatisfied he cried again.

"I'm sorry..I'm so sorry baby. I'm sorry.." He kept mumbling over and over for another 5 minutes through his soft cries.

Shoulders shaking, face going numb as he cuddled you. The tight hold he had on you while crying loosened overtime as he fell asleep.

#star wars #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you #james kelly #haydenchristensen #hayden christensen #sam monroe #clayton beresford #scott barringer #stephen glass

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scoupsakakitty · 6 hours ago

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Late-Night Secrets pt.2 | Seventeen x 14thMember | fluff

The next morning, Y/N woke up with a pounding headache and a dry throat. The world was spinning slightly, and for a few seconds, she just lay there, trying to piece together what had happened the night before.

Then it hit her.

The soju. The confessions. The members' reactions.

"Oh no," she groaned, pulling the blanket over her face.

But she barely had a second to process before her door swung open.

"Y/N!" Seungkwan's voice rang out, way too loud for her current state. "Rise and shine!"

"Go away," she mumbled, burrito-ing herself in her blanket.

"Oh, no, no, no," Joshua laughed, stepping inside. "You are not getting away that easily."

Hoshi and DK followed, looking far too excited for her liking.

"We have questions," Hoshi smirked, plopping down on her bed.

"And you," DK pointed at her dramatically, "have answers."

Y/N groaned again. "Can this wait until I’ve had breakfast?"

Seungcheol appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. "Nope. The moment you wake up, interrogation begins."

"This is harassment," she muttered, finally peeking out from under the blanket.

Mingyu grinned. "You did this to yourself, Miss 'I Might Be Talking to an Idol'."

Y/N sat up slowly, rubbing her temples. "I don’t even remember half of what I said."

"Oh, don’t worry," Woozi smirked. "We remember everything for you."

As Y/N forced herself out of bed and into the kitchen, the interrogation continued.

"Okay, just tell us who it is," Jeonghan pressed as she poured herself a glass of water.

"Yeah, it’s not that hard," Dino added.

"You’re making this more suspicious by avoiding it," Vernon chimed in.

She took a long sip before responding. "I genuinely don’t know what you guys are talking about."

Groans filled the room.

"Y/N!" Seungkwan whined. "Just tell us!"

"Are you talking to him right now?" Minghao asked, narrowing his eyes.

She glanced at her phone on the table, then quickly flipped it over. "Nope."

"Liar," Woozi muttered.

Hoshi suddenly gasped. "Wait, are you dating him already?!"

Y/N nearly choked on her water. "What?! No!"

"Then why won’t you tell us?" Joshua asked, crossing his arms.

"Because you guys are going to make a big deal out of it!" she protested.

"We make a big deal out of everything," DK pointed out. "This is nothing new."

Despite the members' relentless questioning, Y/N managed to avoid giving a straight answer. They eventually gave up—for now—and let her eat in peace.

The day passed by lazily, with everyone lounging in the dorm, watching movies, and playing games. Y/N was relieved that they had seemingly dropped the topic.

Until later that afternoon.

She was curled up on the couch, scrolling through her phone, when she got a message. As she read it, a small smile appeared on her lips.

That was a mistake.

"Who are you smiling at?" Jeonghan asked suspiciously.

Y/N immediately wiped the smile off her face. "No one."

"Oh, it’s definitely him," Mingyu grinned.

"She’s totally texting him right now!" Seungkwan gasped.

"Y/N, just tell us!" Hoshi begged. "Please, I’m suffering!"

"No," she said firmly.

Seungcheol sighed dramatically. "We’re going to keep asking until you tell us."

"Then I guess you’ll be asking forever," she shot back.

The members groaned collectively.

By evening, the members had grown desperate.

"Okay, let’s make a deal," Joshua said, sitting next to her. "If you tell us, we promise not to do anything dumb. No weird teasing, no public hints, nothing."

Y/N narrowed her eyes. "Do you mean it?"

"We promise!" Seungcheol nodded.

She sighed, staring at the hopeful (and extremely nosy) faces around her. "Fine. But if any of you do something stupid, I will personally make your lives miserable."

They all nodded eagerly.

She took a deep breath. "It’s Eric. From The Boyz."

Silence.

Then—

"WAIT, ERIC?!" DK nearly screamed.

"ERIC FROM THE BOYZ?!" Hoshi yelled.

"Oh my God," Seungkwan gasped, covering his mouth.

"I KNEW IT!" Mingyu exclaimed. "I had a feeling!"

"Wait, wait," Vernon interrupted. "Isn’t he older than you?"

Y/N rolled her eyes. "By like a year."

"Huh," Woozi said thoughtfully. "I just thought you’d only date someone your age."

"Same," Dino nodded.

"Well, surprise!" she said, crossing her arms. "Age doesn’t matter and it's only a year guys calm down. Like he isn't 10 years older than me realx."

"No, no, it’s fine," Seungcheol grinned. "We’re just… processing."

"So," Minghao smirked. "How did this happen?"

Y/N groaned. "Nope! That’s all you’re getting."

The members groaned in frustration, but Y/N just smiled, finally relieved that the secret was out.

"Fine," Seungkwan huffed. "But if you guys ever go public, we’re telling the world that we knew first."

Y/N laughed. "Deal."

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anjelicawrites · 2 days ago

Text

Scrapes at the borders of your life

“The giraffe has its heart far away from its thoughts. It has fallen in love yesterday and doesn’t know it yet.”

― Stefano Benni, Ballate

Paring: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x trauma surgeon!reader

Synopsis: Simon has fallen for the trauma surgeon attached to the 141 and believes he has no chances with them, resigning himself in the role of friend and guarding devil, until the truth comes out.

Warnings: angst, stalking (Simon doesn't mean to), medical talk, surgery talk, reference to depression meds, reference to weapons, reference to Simon’s abuse as a child, reference to violence, talk of scars, insecurity, someone gets slapped (reader but not from Simon), someone gets headbutted (not reader, not Simon), Johnny tries to be a wingman, Simon simps a lot, Simon’s fear of not managing a full intercourse, Simon's hit and miss libido, premature ejaculation, kissing, oral (f receiving), fail sex, good sex, P in V sex (protected and unprotected), fingering, overstimulation, cuddling.

A/N: reader is AFAB, they/them pronouns used when needed. They're referred as "ma'am" a couple of times.

Word count: 10.293

You check your phone, you’re not late but you need to be out of the locker room in ten minutes, if you want to arrive on time for your date, the one you don’t really want to go to.

You’re still rummaging through your bag as you exit the lockers, when you hear Soap’s Scottish accent and Ghost’s quiet hum of answer: those two are like black and white, yet are joined at the hip like twins.

NSFW and 18+ only please!

The locker room of the male military personnel has recently been moved next to the one used by the civilians working on base, something that most of the men had made crude jokes about; thankfully the task force you’re attached to, the 141, abstained from any remarks. You didn’t know that Simon had rained his irritation on the men who had the gall to repeat the jokes to his face, in the form of exhausting training and fatigue duties, during the next few days, it was something he kept for himself, the same way he did all his thoughts about you.

“So, Johnny, what do you think?

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, doc! Aren’t they not, Lt.?”

The behemoth of a man glances at you, without saying a word.

“If the guy doesn’t beg for a second date, he’s an idiot, doc!”

“That’s not what I need to happen.” You pout. “Mother is hellbent in finding me a partner, I have told her this is the last time I’m going out with someone. I need this date to go bad, so she will stop pestering me when I tell her that I’d rather die alone with forty cats, than with someone I’m not truly interested in.”

“Do you have everything with you?”

You stare at Simon’s masked face, his brown eyes unreadable.

“Simon, really…”

“Do you have it?”

He’s not standing in front of you, blocking your path, but he’s trying to pin you with his stare.

“You’re insufferable!” You rummage in your bag. “See? Pepper spray, teaser and the knife!”

“That’s enough stuff to make any bloke run for his life.” Soap says, eyeing the array of weapons.

“I hope so! This chap is the son of someone mum knows. I have to make sure he runs for the hills the next time he hears my name!”

You walk towards the door, blind to Soap’s grinning, and to the way Simon’s hands have curled into fists.

“See you next week, boys!”

“What?”

You turn around and look at the Scot.

“I’m on annual leave. Try not to go save the word when I am not here to patch you four up, OK?”

The door closes behind you, cutting Soap’s laughter.

“What do you say, Lt.?” He asks, showing him the pictures of what appears to be a Tuscan villa. “You, the doc, and a spring wedding?”

“Fuck you, Johnny.”

Simon keeps telling himself he isn’t truly stalking you. He doesn’t have a tracking device installed in your car, or your phone, because that would be creepy, but he’s well aware of the statistics, how high the numbers are for assaults or, worse, rape and murder, or how those figures sky rocket when it comes to dating.

Simon knows you’re bright, brighter than most, but that doesn’t protect you if one asshole decides he doesn’t like your smart mouth, and bleeding Nora you have opinions and you’re not afraid to voice them! He still remembers the first time he’s met you.

You had emerged from the OR after a five hours long emergency surgery on Gaz. You were still wearing your scrubs and one of the colorful caps you use when you’re operating (it was the pink one with the dogs, Simon would gift you one with skulls and bones after the first routine checkup you did on him).

None of them had ever seen you, you had started at the base while the 141 was deployed; when the pararescue had entrusted Gaz to Dr. Rutherford, you were just one of the medics running to the OR, you were but a scrub, a body among many others, listening to the quick handover and shouting orders as the gurney was speeding down the pale green walls of the military hospital.

“What?”

You had looked at the three of them with weary eyes and furrowed brows, surprised that the soldiers had encircled you and were staring expectantly.

The man you’ll learn to know as Captain Price had asked you about Gaz’s prognosis, the other men crowding around you.

“Hasn’t Dr. Rutherford talked to you?”

“No, ma’am.”

He had sounded tired, he looked like he had been through hell and back. Those three men hadn’t probably hit the showers yet, too worried for their friend.

“Oh bleeding hell!” You had burst out, the peak of adrenaline that had carried you through out the surgery having abated, leaving you sluggish. “OK, gather around children, mother goose is gonna tell you everything.”

You had marched to the closest row of chairs and climbed on top of one: those men were so tall and buff you felt like you couldn’t breathe, nor be heard with them standing around you.

“We’re positive he’s going to be fine.” You had smiled at the collective sigh of relief. “He’s in the recovery room, the nurses there are checking on his vitals, before he gets transferred to the ICU. He’s going to be intubated and sedated for a couple of days, to help his body deal with the pain. His wounds were pretty gnarly, and his appendix was ready to burst. Did he tell any of you if he felt abdominal pain, or nauseous?”

There was a collective shake of heads and surprised stares, even the eyes of the one with the skull mask had widened.

“All things considered, it would have been worse if the appendix had actually burst while you were out. That would have been another bag of cats to handle.”

You had elected not to say anything about the way the small organ had almost exploded as soon as you had gently poked it, or that the sergeant would have had high risks of dying of peritonitis out in the field.

“I’ll tell the nurses to give you all a shout when the sergeant is transferred. You can sit with him outside his room, if you want.”

You had expected them to visit their friend, not to find them sitting on the uncomfortably plastic chairs, still wearing their whole gear, when you had popped by the ICU.

“Doc?”

It was the one you’ll learn to know as Soap that had stared at you, one eye swollen and in dire need of ice: another battle for another day, you had mused.

“I’m not in the habit of abandoning my patients after surgery.”

You had marched to the two chairs right in front of the window into Gaz’s room, and kicked Ghost’s foot out of the way, he was manspreading so much he was occupying two seats (honest to God! Why men need to always do that?). At the time you weren’t aware of his reputation, and even if you were, you wouldn’t have cared, too tired and angry.

“You junk wouldn’t scare death away, soldier.” You had sat next to him. “And we’re not going to open another cycle on my watch tonight.”

You had pulled out your headphones and started blasting music to keep yourself awake, ignoring the surprised stares of the men.

Next to you Ghost was staring at you, wondering if you had a death wish, or if you believed that looking at the little numbers on Gaz’s monitor, as if they owed you money, was the right way to fight death. You were listening to your music with a volume so high he could hear it himself: pop songs from the early 2000s: would that be enough to scare death away, he had wondered.

None of you knew how much time had passed, the minutes bleeding into hours, weariness setting in your bones, the music not helping fight the siren’s song of sleep: you were so tired, the azure number of Gaz’s oxygen saturation, and the constant curves on the monitor were truly hypnotizing you, your eyes were growing heavy and unfocused.

You head had snapped to the right side as soon as you had seen Dr. Rutherford walking down the corridor.

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

You had popped your pink headphones on the uncomfortable chair, the men around you not clocking on the clacking sound of plastic on plastic, but the angry way you were marching towards your colleague, your hands closed in twin fists.

The conversation was carried out in hushed tones, Dr. Rutherford was standing still, his mouth a thin, white line of anger, and you were constantly in his space, a snarl on your face as you growled your words at him.

It was well known that Dr. Rutherford wasn’t liked and that he had the reputation of someone who would pull his rank to cover up his bullying, and his mistakes. He was feared, having managed to ruin other physicians’ careers over the years.

In retrospect Simon had realized this was the moment when he had started to notice you: when he was wondering about your lack of self preservation. To tell the truth, it was what you did seconds after that stole his heart, unbeknownst to him, when Dr. Rutherford had slapped you in the face.

Time could have stopped, for all you knew. You couldn’t hear the surprised shouts of the nurses, nor the scuffing of the men’s boots hitting the ground, only the roar of blood in your ears and the knot of rage exploding in your belly. Seconds, only seconds had passed when your body had decided to act on its own, your forehead crashing on the older man’s nose, Captain John Price’s burly body between yours and Rutherford’s a moment too late.

“Oh crap! I think I have broken my nose. Oh shit!”

You were too busy tenderly touching your face to mind the chaos around you.

“I’ll have you in front of the court martial!” Rutherford had screamed at you.

“I’m a civilian, you buffoon! Your loser grades mean nothing to me!”

Through the pain you had felt a bulky arm curl around your middle to stop you from attacking the other surgeon.

“That’s enough, doc.” The low thunder of Ghost’s voice had rumbled against your back. “Stand down.”

Your vision was blurry, the soldiers tasked with security were tackling Dr. Rutherford, with the help of Soap: the older man was still trying to get to you, he was hurling insults, his voice booming in the crowded corridor.

“I’m not done with you! Did you hear me well? You’ll be fired! You’ll never work in this country ever again!”

“The one who’s never going to work in this country for the rest of his life is you, Rutherford.”

Amidst the chaos, Price was calm, furious but calm, his voice was cutting through Rutherford’s threats and the security men’s shouts.

“I am a major, captain! I can have you transferred in an hour!”

“You can try, major. Hitting a civilian, in front of witnesses?”

“Leaving the OR mid surgery to do God knows what, since I had to talk to these gentlemen about their friend.” You had snarled, the arm around your middle had tensed again. “You manage to fire me? I’ll go back working with Doctors without Borders, but I’ll make sure you’ll lose your license, Rutherford.”

When Ghost’s arm had released you, you had let yourself slide against the wall, after Rutherford had been carried away, your legs having finally given up supporting you. You had needed a minute before letting the nurses do a check up.

“Are you OK over there, doc?”

It had been Soap asking.

“I have been through worse. Jesus Christ what way to present myself!” The men had looked at you puzzled. “I’m the new trauma surgeon attached to the 141. Hi! Usually I am not this violent, or chaotic, I’m sorry you had to see all of that.”

You didn’t fault the men for not knowing: they had been out in the field for months, your predecessor had decided to step down after some serious family issues right after they have left base.

“You should all go home, I’m on call, I’m going to stay with the sergeant. And I’m going to see one lieutenant Riley on Monday? For the routine check up?”

The man with the over the top mask had sighed: lieutenant Riley found!

“If anything comes up, I will contact you all, it’s a promise.”

Simon hates when he has to tail you so close to the city center, there are too many people around and his baklava would stir up too much curiosity, the surgical mask on his face, his baseball cap under the black hood of his hoodie don’t offer enough cover for his face, he feels exposed, even though he’s hiding in the shadows of an alley where he can keep an eye on you.

Your date has picked a table at the window; Simon hates that the prick thinks he can put you on display like that. If he were a different man, he’d bring you to somewhere cozier, smaller, and he wouldn’t show you around like a prize he’s won.

He knows you’re hating every minute you have to spend with the anonymous man who’s boring you with whatever topic he’s prattling about, Simon sees it in the way you are looking outside, or in how many times you grab your phone; from this distance he can’t see your eyes, yet he knows they hold that distant look he’s seen too many times when you have to deal with paperwork. He wonders how long before one of your friends will call you to save you from this dreadful date, or if you’ll suffer through it to make your mother happy; if his circumstances had been different, he wouldn’t bore you to death, you wouldn’t have to use help to finish this date earlier. But Simon knows you’re way out of his league, too much of everything he has never had the chance to be, to ever hope to be. He can only be your patient and, something akin to a friend.

He had knocked at the door of your office on the dot, hating that he had to go through this bullshit check up, but preferring to be done with it as fast as possible.

He had expected the usual flurry of nurses coming and going, making the experience ten times more unpleasant; you were alone, instead. Your cheek was still swollen from the slap and you were sporting a bump on your forehead, right where you had headbutted that prick Rutherford; he half expected you to wear a colorful T-shirt, like the one you wore after Gaz’s surgery: obnoxious pink, the Barbie inspired font composing the phrase ‘Bitch, please’, which should have told him already everything he needed to know about you.

He was almost disappointed by the white button down shirt and black trousers.

He knew he was trying to distract himself from the knot of anxiety churning his stomach: how he hated to be here!

“Lieutenant.” You had looked up at him with the more open expression you could muster. “I will need you to remove your baklava. I have to examine your face.”

“Negative, ma’am.”

He couldn’t let you look at himself and, based on his records, you understood why.

You had tried to transmit him calmness by relaxing your body as much as possible: face open to his scrutiny and slightly pulled to the side to show your neck, your hands palms up.

“Lieutenant. I know this is unpleasant and that I am a stranger to you, but I can’t sign off the paperwork, if you don’t allow me to do my job. I can’t let you out in the field.”

You knew he was observing you, those brown eyes scanning you like he would an enemy, and you let him, you were in no hurry and this man deserved to make up his mind.

The way you had addressed him, the respect you had shown him, had convinced him to unmask himself: you weren’t doing this with ill intent, the matter of fact way you had used, as if you were telling him a known fact ‘Water is wet’, ‘ The sky is blue’, ‘If I can’t do my job, you wouldn’t be able to do yours’ had convinced him: you were one of the few people who weren’t curious about his face. He has encountered too many people who wouldn’t take a no for an answer, who didn’t care about why he wished the mask was his face, instead of seeing his father’s face staring back at him in every mirror, they just wanted to solve the mystery. You were doing your job, with all the sharps edges that it entailed, just like he did his, and that was something he had to respect.

You had been as fast and clinical as possible, the scars didn’t horrify you; based on his paperwork, you could list off all of his injuries as you saw them on his face and, later, his body. What you couldn’t find in his file, it had been easy to infer based on all the x-rays and MRIs, some old injuries impossible for a child to have without some external causes.

“You can put your baklava back on, lieutenant.”

Simon would never be able to put into words how grateful he was that you had kept your examination of his naked face as fast as possible, and that you didn’t force him through the hell that was small talk for the whole ordeal. If you had noticed the way he was staring at you, you didn’t say a single thing, something he was also grateful for, it had helped him bearing with the whole process, than anything else ever did.

On Friday a small packet and a steaming mug of tea were waiting for you on your desk. Carefully folded in the bright paper, an OR cap, black with neon skulls and bones design. On a whim you had told the nurse working with you to hold the fort for a minute, you had forgotten you had to run a little errand.

Said errand was standing in the field, covered in head to toe in black, busy overseeing what you believed was some sort of drill with the younger recruits.

“Thank you for the cap, you didn’t have to, lieutenant.” You couldn’t hide the smile in your voice, you didn’t want to. “How did you manage to discover how I love to take my tea?”

Simon was standing next to you, massive arms crossed on his solid chest, his face slightly turned towards you.

“If I were to tell you, doc, then I would have to kill you.”

Someone else would have been petrified by his words and the deadpan expression in his eyes, you had simply chuckled and had taken a sip from the mug, your personal mug, the one you had brought to use in the kitchen for the medical staff.

“We can’t have that, can we? Now I have to discover how you prefer your tea.”

“Do you like challenges, doc?”

He had turned to look at you and you had fancied you could see amusement in the rich brown of his eyes.

“I live for those, lieutenant.” You had taken a couple of steps towards the medical buildings. “Have a nice day!”

You were already halfway through, when Soap had approached Simon.

“Spring wedding, Lt.?”

“I need a sparring partner, and you just volunteered.”

You were always catching his attention without doing so. You were always at the corner of his eyes, busy working, or chatting with the civilian personnel at the base. He’d be running drills with the new recruits and he’d know you were walking somewhere nearby, he’d be at the canteen and you’d be either leaving the premises, or entering them. You’d pop by the military rec room because “You boys get the better tasting tea!” and he’d be snickering to himself in the shadows.

Unconsciously, he had started using the route passing by your office, to go to his (that he had to enter the medical building and then exiting it was something he actively didn’t want to think about), his eyes taking quick peaks at you through the window, whenever you kept the blinds open; you’d be slaving by your desk, elbow deep in paperwork, brows furrowed in concentration, or typing away at your PC. He’s seen you, during night shift, either working or reading with your legs propped up the desk, munching on something sweet, trying to keep yourself awake, or asleep on your couch, curled under a thick blanket; he had felt something warm unfurl in his chest, you looked so small and defenseless he felt the strange urge to stop and keep guarding your door until you’d wake up.

It had been you who had watched over him after a gnarly injury. He had woken up in a hospital bed, oxygen mask on his face, drips in his arm and too many surgical drains poking him. He was still high on the anesthetic and pain killers, his eyes barely focusing on your face that he had thought he was hallucinating you.

“How are you feeling, lieutenant?”

He had needed a moment to speak, his mouth felt like cement.

“Thirsty.” He had managed to say, ashamed that you were seeing him so weak.

“We’re giving you fluids but you’re not clear for food or water, yet. Squeeze my hand if you understand.”

Your small fingers had wounded around his coarse palm, their dainty touch had grounded him: you were real.

“I managed to remove the bullets from your gut. You have a lovely spleen and gall-bladder.”

Even high as a kite, in that precise moment, Simon’s brain had catch up with his heart and had realized he was in love with you, irrevocably, and that he had zero chances with you.

It wasn’t because you were a genius and he was an idiot, Simon knew well that he had the brains to match his ruthlessness, the issue laid in the fact that you two had less to nothing in common. He had seen you read thick tomes he has never heard of and talk with Gaz about movies he didn’t know ever existed; when he had checked any of the titles out he had realized how wildly your tastes forked: what he liked, you would hate, what you loved, made him fall asleep in ten minutes, like that subtitled movie he had tried to watch during leave, he had conked out five minutes in, and awoke when the end credits were rolling.

In his head he could see how a movie date would end up: he asleep and you wondering why he had asked you to come with him to the movie theater. What did he have to say to you that would interest you in his ugly mug? He was a highly trained killer whose hands were dripping blood, he came with a baggage that would put you in danger, what good could he add to your life? Yet, he was attracted to you like a moth to a flame. Even if he wanted, he wouldn’t be able to stop looking for you at the base, or shadow you when you went home.

It wasn’t a matter of stalking you, Simon fully knew where he stood, and that the only thing he could do for you, was keeping you safe; he would hide in the shadows and follow you home, leaving only when he had seen you safe in the quiet of your apartment. He had gifted you weapons, his heart beating a tad too fast when you didn’t run for the hills when he had given you the knife for your birthday, then the pepper spray and then the teaser. He had scared away a persistent date, a guy who simply didn’t want to understand that you weren’t interested: being your guardian devil was all he could offer you.

Soap didn’t help. He kept trying to push him towards you, trying to make sure his lieutenant was alone with you. One night shift he had gone as far as buying takeout, gave it to Simon when you were passing by with a cheeky “You must be famished doc!” and left Simon standing like a log with too many bags in his hands (he was going to use Johnny for target practice, if he ever survived this ordeal). You had stared at him with a smile, so lovely on your face, that he had wanted to bolt, food and all: you scared him in a way no promise of violence ever could. “You shouldn’t have, Simon!” and he had found himself sitting awkwardly on the too small couch in your office, all the plastic dishes neatly organized on the short table in front of him; you had removed your shoes and were sitting on the armrest, a container and a fork in your hand. Of course you were wearing ridiculous eraser yellow socks with tiny bunnies sketched on the cotton.

“Are you hungry, Simon?”

The way you pronounced his name! The way your voice modulated each and every syllable sent a shiver down his spine.

“Yes.” He had lied, his stomach was a knot.

He had been through hell, he knew you could tell by the scars littering his body. He has had too many close brushes with death than what he cared to count, yet he was petrified by your vicinity, by the fact that he had never been ‘Ghost’ to you, you had progressed from ‘Lieutenant’ to ‘Simon’ effortlessly, that you seemed to be able to read him in ways no one ever could. Were you be able to tell that the silence clothing you two was too deafening to him, the man who was the Reaper for his enemies?

What was he supposed to talk about with you? Why couldn’t he find some inane topic that would make you smile? Even the youngest recruit would be able to simply chat with you, why couldn’t he?

“What’s a cycle?” He had blurted out

“What?” You had started at him, quizzically, mouth around a forkful of food.

Yes, his mind provided, way to pass off as an idiot. He couldn’t possible stay silent, he had to press on even though he could only taste bile, not the food he was trying to chew.

“With Gaz. You said you didn’t want to open another cycle.”

“Oh, that!” You had put the fork in the empty container and stared at him. “It’s one of our superstitions.”

You had gently put the container on the table and grabbed your Coke.

“We actually have many, us who work in hospital, that is. It’s all nonsensical, no actual basis but the mind’s strife to put order in the chaos of life.” You had giggled, staring at him. “Don’t make that face!”

Simon was positive he wasn’t making any face whatsoever, it was well known he was a stone and what could you see? He had lifted his mask over his nose to eat, you couldn’t observe a single thing!

“You have very expressive eyes. And I’m going to tell you, after the shift is over, I’m as superstitious as they come!”

You did tell him, when the sun was grazing the horizon and he was having a smoke, dreading that he had to go home, if his sparse apartment could have been called that.

You were standing next to him, your own cigarette between your fingers, a colorful T-shirt half hidden under your hoodie and leather jacket. He had come to realize you only wore your more professional clothes during the day; when you had to work nights, you preferred more casual stuff, that made you look younger than your years. He hated that he could notice that, and that this information made his black heart swell a little.

“There are a handful of superstitions any hospital worker will tell you are true. The first one, the golden rule, is that you never say that a shift is quiet, not while you’re working, or literal hell will break loose. Second one is the cycle: death comes in clusters of three in a ward. It makes no sense and it’s truly pareidolia at its best, but it’s true: ask anyone working at the hospital on base and they’ll tell you that three people will die in a row, perhaps in a span of a few days, but it will happen, all in the same ward.”

You had puffed a cloud of smoke, staring at the sky.

“The others?” He had heard himself ask.

“Oh, the new moon.” You had smiled at him. “Pregnant people tend to give birth more during that time span. It’s utter and complete crap, on a scientific level, but it’s all true. Also, when you’re walking a deserted ward at night and you hear your name being called? No you don’t. You keep walking and ignore the ghosts.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It is, but we believe in it religiously or the most of us do.”

You two had finished your cigarettes in silence, then you had bid him a good day of sleep; he had wondered if he should follow you home just to see you in your apartment, drinking your tea before trying to get some shut eye.

He had done this countless times, after particularly grueling missions, after you had gave all of them a clean bill of health, scolded Gaz (“Fallen off a chopper again? Is this the Darwin Awards sergeant?”) and Soap (“I swear to God MacTavish, you have fun at getting hit in the head!”) for their bumps and scrapes and asked him if he was sure he didn’t need anything to help him sleep.

He was well aware you had clearance to read his medical files, the list of prescriptions he was under, even the stuff the psychiatrist on base had given him to help him navigate his life; he didn’t want any of that, he only needed to see you safe home, to find the strength to go back to his own, so barren compared to yours.

He hadn’t gone to his hole immediately. He had followed you and hid to watch you brew your morning tea and eat a couple of biscuits. The sky had become overcast, yet to him you were still bathed in sunlight, your cozy apartment filled him with a longing he wasn’t capable to bear: would you let him sleep on your small couch? He wouldn’t do anything else but curl there under one of your quaint blankets (he had a preference for the crochet one, but he would have taken anything, really, a rescued dog would accept any scrap of love it was given), lulled to sleep by your presence.

What a loser, right?

It’s raining by the time your date ends.

Simon can’t hear what the douchebag is telling you, but he can’t help the satisfied smile on his face when he sees the guy leave with his tail between his legs: whatever that is, it didn’t work with you and never will.

He tails you from afar, your obnoxious umbrella dotted with pink hearts is the beacon that helps him spot you amidst all the people running from the rain; he doesn’t care that he’s drenched, he’s been through worse.

He stops and ducks in the alleyway he uses to keep an eye on your apartment, waiting for the right moment to hop on to the small balcony where all your plants live.

He doesn’t usually lets himself get so close to you, tonight he can’t help himself: he’s going to listen to you get ready for bed and then go, he’s become hungrier and hungrier for your presence, looking from afar it’s not cutting it anymore. And he’s not going to see you for a whole week, he needs in his bones to absorb whatever little scrapes of your life he possibly can, until you’re back to the base.

He listens as you walk around the apartment barefoot, your clothes hitting the bathroom floor, the whisper of the clothes you wear at home, when you unfold it from its place on the dresser (once he had almost ogled you when you were changing clothes; he had managed to turn around before he could have seen more than he should have, yet the image of your bare back had hunted him for days), some inane documentary on the telly keeping you company as you remove your makeup. It’s all so familiar, so homely, a routine he knows by heart and that is never going to be his, and that relaxes him: if he were yours he would brush his teeth side by side with you, maybe poke at you with his elbow just to make you laugh, he’d carry you to bed bridal style and keep watch until you fall asleep all curled up in his arms. If he were yours, but he’s never going to belong to you.

“Simon?” Your voice comes from the French doors.

His training doesn’t make him jump in surprise, on the inside his heart is hammering like crazy against his ribs.

He stands still, he doesn’t move a single muscle as he hears you exit the warmth of your apartment to join him where the storm is raging.

You stand next to where he is, the two of you sheltered by the worse of the water by the balcony over yours. With the corner of your eyes you see how drenched he is and you have to fight the instinct to scold him from courting pneumonia.

“I have to admit it has taken me a little to notice what you were doing. I thought I was going mad but then I stumbled upon that guy who didn’t understand I wasn’t interested in him: he was petrified and had begged me not to tell ‘my big friend with the skull mask’ that I had met him by chance while queuing at Costa.”

You stare at his hood, still stubbornly covering his face.

You don’t try to uncover his head, you understand that he needs his space and this silence, broken by the rumbling of a thunder.

You’re not mad at him, puzzled yes, but not angry.

“Is it always going to be like this, Simon? You hiding where the borders of my life begin? What if I meet the right person, what then?”

Your words break the spell that keeps him rooted where he is, he scoffs and turns his head to stare at you; you see something dangle from his face, one of the straps of the surgical mask has broken and now he’s naked in front of you, the darkness of the night his only cover.

You’re so close to him he can make out the soft angles of your face, the warm light in your eyes: you should be screaming at him, call the cops on him, yet you’re staring not precisely at the mangled thing he calls his face. He’s the one who has been hiding in the shadows, yet you’re still giving him his space.

“Would you keep on doing this?” You ask.

You’re so close, closer than he’s ever let most of the people be, so close that he can smell your perfume and your face cream.

“What would you do if I told you to stop?”

“I would.”

Those words cut him like knives: it would kill him to stop hunting for the scraps you had, unintentionally, given him, but he would, for your happiness.

“What if I tell you to come inside?”

“You can’t ask me that.”

His voice trembles and he’s a child again, defenseless in the snares of his father.

“Why?”

You’re fully in his space now, you can feel his warmth and he yours. The cotton of your tracksuit drenched with the raindrops falling from his leather jacket.

“Answer me, Simon.”

Your eyes are still avoiding his face, you’re still granting him this sliver of respect when you shouldn’t.

“Talk to me Simon, please.”

You’re on your tip toes now and he can smell the mint of your toothpaste.

He can’t speak, he can’t breathe.

His hands shoot out to grab your arms, his lips find yours in a kiss that’s almost a bite.

When your taste hits him, it’s like a floodgate is being ripped open by the violence of a flood.

Under his your lips part and your tongue seeks his, snuffing out his groans of pleasure, your arms escape his hold and grab his hair under his drenched hood and cap, your body pulls him forward, guiding him inside the sanctuary of your home.

You almost fall and his hands grab your hips to steady you, his tongue shyly plays with yours, as if he’s still insecure of what you’d do, he submits to you when you pull at his hair so that you have free access to his lax mouth: cigarettes and tea, that’s what you taste, his moans rumble against your chest, until you let go, desperate for air.

The darkness of your apartment is broken by the small light by the sofa, not bright enough to show you completely his face.

“Look at me.”

His gravelly voice makes you shiver, yet your eyes stubbornly land somewhere on his chest.

“Look at me.” He repeats, your name like a prayer on his lips.

You lift your gaze and he moves the two of you where you can see him: all of his scars barren to you, his eyes blazing with his own need.

You can feel his hands tremble on your arms, his teeth chatter and it’s not the cold from his drenched clothes.

“We don’t have to do anything, Simon, you know that.”

And by God you’re not lying. You’d be happy to lay on the couch and talk for the rest of the night, you don’t want him to give you something if he’s not ready.

One of his gloved hands finds your soft cheek and cups your face, his expression has softened, he’s so unguarded and scared now.

“I know.”

He’s not sure his body is up for the task, not with the medication he needs to take daily killing his libido most of the times, but that doesn’t really matter in his book, he doesn’t care if he can’t take pleasure from you, as long as he’s making you feel good.

He feels something warm in his guts stirring awake, but he’s not sure he’s going to manage to go on with it fully. Would you hate him for that?

“Simon?”

Your hand is so soft against the scarred skin of his cheek; he knows you use loads of hand cream to fight against the normal dryness that comes with having surgical gloves on every day, the soft scent hits his nostrils and his desire becomes more solid, it slithers from his belly to his cock, stirring it alive.

“Let me take care of you.”

He’ll live his life for you simply following those words: he’d shelter you from any storm, he’d kill for you, if only you asked. He’d go to hell for you, if that meant that you’d be safe and sound.

You see something shift in his eyes; there’s still insecurity there, but it’s fighting against another emotion, desire maybe?

Under another circumstances you’d tell him that you want to look after him as well, that this thing isn’t only about you, but you think that he needs this, to show you his devotion, if you hope to give him a safe space. Despite the blood on his hands, this man is a nurturer, who doesn’t know how to express himself.

“Yes.”

You’re not surprised that he knows the layout of your apartment, that he doesn’t need to turn on the lights to guide you where your bed is.

You kiss him again when you feel his fingers tremble as they hook the hem of your hoodie to lift it up your body, you murmur soft praises as he divests you and you’re standing naked in front of him.

“May I take your clothes off?”

You wouldn’t mind being the only one naked here, if that helped him feel safer; you two can discuss and explore his hard limits later, now you need to tread carefully.

“Keep the lights off?”

“Anything you need, Simon.”

Outside the storm rages, inside you keep asking him if he’s all right as you slowly peel his clothes off, until he’s barren his scarred body to your touch.

You know how he looks on the inside, what those scars left behind under layers of muscle and bones, you can probably recite all of his wounds alphabetically as you kiss them; he’s so beautiful to you, hard planes of muscles you want to caress and explore, dirty blond hairs on his chest you hope you’ll rub your face against, that thick happy trail guiding your eyes to his half hard cock; you want to caress all of him, make him feel good.

He stops you before you can follow the newest scar on his pectoral with the tip of your finger: you have stitched this one close, managed to pull together the mangled sides of the wound nicely.

“Go lay on the bed.” He tells you, his voice more secure.

He helps you with the ridiculous amount of pillows scattered on the bedding. Lovingly he chooses the ones he thinks will be the best to lift your hips up and to rest your head: he wants you comfortable, and happy with the way he’s treating you.

His eyes drink your lax body open for him. There’s a little light coming from the sky outside, enough for him to make out the soft curves of your body and the patch of hairs at your center. He likes a good bush, when he was younger and his libido not so skewed, he would get it going just because his partner wasn’t completely barren and now he feels his cock stir a little more.

“Like what you see?” You ask, arching your back to entice him.

“Yes.” His head goes up and down dumbly.

“Kiss me?”

He lays on you, his body solid on yours, his weight stealing your breath from you, his rough skin heaven against yours.

You let him take control of the kiss, his tongue less shy as it plays with yours, his moans fuller against your mouth: you have no idea how much he loves your taste.

He maps your body with his lips, in his head he takes notice of the way you keen and arch when he nibbles on your throat or sucks on your nipples. His tongue follows the fat drops of perspiration on your skin, his mouth leaves bruising kisses on your tummy when your hands wind up in his hair to push him to go faster: he’s going to savor you, commit you to his memory.

“Simon please!” You beg, but he’s not deterred. “Need… ah!”

He nibbles your trembling tights, his stubble will leave a rushes on the soft skin and a twisted part of him is proud that you will carry his mark around. His hips kick when your nails scratch his nape: please, yes, brand him as yours, even if you don’t want to keep him, leave the proof of you needing him, even if it is for one time.

You’re already wet when his fingers open your lower lips to his eyes, you’re not drenched yet and he hopes his ministration will get you there so that he can drown in your scent.

The first kiss on your clit is fleeting, shy almost, your body responds by kicking your hips up, needy for more contact and he can’t believe this is happening: he must be dead and landed in heaven, somehow.

“Need you, Simon.” You whimper under his scrutiny.

“I’m here, love.”

His voice is lower, gruff against your folds and you keen, the vibrations torture against your nerves.

Reverent he hoists your legs up his shoulders to open you up properly, his big hands splay on your tummy, your fingers finding his to anchor yourself.

He’s shy at first, exploring your folds with his tongue, playing with your clit slowly, mapping out your response and thank God he’s holding you down because you hips kick up immediately, as soon as his lips wound around your nub to suck softly, your legs clamping around his head and if he’s not dead he wishes you’d snap his neck while he’s eating you out: there’s no better death in his book.

You’re trashing under him, your body arching, feet trying to find purchase on the slick skin of his back, to move away, to gain advantage, you don’t know, your brain is fried, your body a knot of overstimulated nerves, and it’s not because you haven’t had sex in so long. It’s Simon’s mouth on your cunt, it’s his tongue playing with you until you come all over his face, again. It’s his moans of pleasure when your honey hits his taste buds, his wicked fingers exploring your depths, bullying that hidden part of yourself that makes you see stars. It’s his hushed words of praise, his grunts when his cock slaps against his belly with every instinctual kick of his hips against nothing.

You’ve lost your words a couple of orgasms ago, your lungs are too busy trying to pull air in and out to be of any use, your eyes can barely focus on his, dark with hunger, when he looks at you from between your legs.

He needs you ready, wet and loose for him, if his body can keep it up for him to have a full intercourse with you and, if he can’t, he wants you satisfied with what he can give you.

He groans against you when your fingers manage to find purchase on his short hair. He lets you pull his body up to yours, until he’s laying fully on you, your lips seeking his in a hungry kiss that has you keen when you taste yourself on him.

You hiccup his name, cunt rubbing against his erection hastily when his engorged tip slides against your clit.

“Wait!” He chokes out, lifting himself from your body.

Even full of endorphins are you are, alarm bells start ringing in your head at the preoccupation in his tone: did you do something wrong?

In his head Simon is trying to list off the entire armory back at the base, desperate to reel his orgasm in: it has been too bloody long and he feels like he’s sixteen again, popping his cherry with the cashier girl at the news stand at the end of his street.

He’s not sure his body can manage a second round, he doesn’t want to lose this one opportunity to sink inside of you.

“Simon?”

You try to keep the agitation from your voice. If, for whatever reason, he needs to stop, you need to make sure he’s not feeling like he’s leaving you unsatisfied.

Over you, Simon fists the sheets and closes his eyes, head bent so that you can’t see his labored expression. He bullies himself into breathing slowly and steadily, focusing his attention of what his senses tell him: the soft cotton of your bed sheets, your rugged breathing and the sounds of the city spilling in your shared sanctuary.

He needs to control the reactions of his body, center himself on every muscle, every nerve, the same way he does when he’s ready to snipe out an enemy.

“Love.” He groans.

“Do you need to stop?”

His head snaps up, the concern and the affection he sees on your face break him: he shouldn’t make you feel so anxious for him.

“No.” He groans, his body still trying to fight his iron will.

“Simon.” You touch his cheek. “I’m happy if you’re OK, you know that, right?”

Oh Christ he’s going to come untouched if you keep being so gentle with him: he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve you!

“Tell me you have condoms.”

His need for you is a knot of pain sitting in his lower belly, his body is reluctantly following his orders, but his cock aches for you, every breathe he takes is a stab in his gut.

“The lower drawer.”

He stops you from moving. Gritting his teeth he reaches for the knob of the bedside table and fishes in the odds and ends, a light of hope burning wild when he touches the plastic wrapper and grabs it hastily.

He gently moves your hands away when you try to help him roll the condom on his aching erection: he will come if you touch him.

You help him maneuver your legs around his hips, your hamstrings protesting at the angle he has to position you, your cunt flutters when he, slowly, rubs himself against your wetness: he’s prepared you well to take him, you’re drenching him, the wet sounds like music.

He blacks out as soon as he bottoms out, when your cunt clenches around him, stealing his pleasure from him.

The cold wakes you up. Outside the storm is still raging and the bedside lamp is out of commission, it forces you to feel around until you find Simon’s T-shirt, still discarded where you have thrown it. On trembling legs you stand up and wear it, before you paddle to the living room; you’re pleasantly sore, the kind of sweet pain you cherish because it means you’ve been loved well.

“Simon?”

The sound of a glass being deposited on the table makes you turn towards the kitchen: he’s there, his massive form blacker than the night itself.

“You’re out of power.” He rumbles.

He’s dressed back in his jeans and hoodie, the hood back up over his head.

“It’s the power grid of the entire block. Weather like this plunges us back to the Middle Ages.” You try to defuse the tension in the air with your lame joke. “Come back to bed? It’s awfully cold without you.”

You stand in front of him, his body ramrod straight in front of yours.

“You want me there?”

You hate his tone, so clipped and collected. He breaks your heart.

“Why wouldn’t I want you there?”

The way his head turns makes sure you can’t look at his expression, and you can’t have that.

The anxious way he had stared at you after his peak had made all your alarm bells ring in your head. You had hugged him, making sure his face was hidden in the curve of your neck, you had caressed his tensed back until he had relaxed in your embrace, your voice warm with praise for the way he had made you come, repeatedly, on his face.

“I didn’t…” You don’t make him finish.

Boldly you enter his space again, one hand sneaking under his hoodie to find his warm skin; you need to risk it all, if you want to keep whatever link you have with him.

“You didn’t hear me complain, let me finish. You have no idea how hot it was to see you lose control like that, for little old me. You managed what no partner hell! Even my own vibrator ever could, Simon. I lost count of how many times you made me come for you, my maximum is two times in a row, and I needed a moment in between those. It’s not what happened with you.”

His hand snatches yours in a lax hold, you know full well he could break all your bones if only he wanted.

“Don’t lie to me.”

You don’t let the low growl deter you. Slowly, you move your trapped hand, and his, up to your face; you know he’s letting you maneuver him, man his size you wouldn’t be able to otherwise. You’re not sure how much he can see, yet you telegraph your movements anyway, your teeth biting the tip of his gloved middle finger to pull the garment away: if he wants, he can stop you any time.

You let it fall on the floor and guide his scarred hand between your legs.

“Can you feel how wet I still am for you, Simon?” He hiccups on a breathe. “Answer me.”

You can feel his full body shudder at your command, and God isn’t it the hottest thing ever?

“I do.”

His fingers start to explore your folds and you have to steel yourself or you’ll lose your thread.

“Am I lying to you? Is my cunt lying to you?”

“No.”

He’s breathless and, if you’d feel for his heart, you’d hear it thumping wildly against his chest. He needs to remove his fingers from the warm cradle of your cunt, yet his brain is stubbornly refusing to send the information to his hand.

“I don’t care whether or not you rearrange my guts with your cock, Simon. Sex is great, orgasms are amazing, but all of it pales compared to all the time we spent together just talking. Tell me you understand.”

His fingers clench inside of you and you moan.

“I understand.”

“Then, explain to me like I’m stupid, why I wouldn’t want to wake up wrapped around you. Why I wouldn’t want to explore every inch of your skin until you’re too out of it to even beg. You make me come on your cock? That’s a plus. You make me laugh and chat with me during night shift? You, somehow, know how I drink my tea? That’s what I value. You make sure I am home safe? That’s the kind of dedication I have never found in anybody else.”

His free hand grabs your hip to steady you, his fingers, still deep inside of you, haven’t stopped moving, plunging into you inch by inch.

“I wouldn’t mind sitting on your face until you tap out, but I’d be as happy to lay on the sofa and watch this awful storm for the rest of the night.”

There’s another storm wrecking war inside of him, two sides pulling him in two different directions: one that’s screaming that he needs to leave, now, before he embarrasses himself even further, the other is fueling liquid fire in his guts, all his blood tumbling, again, to his cock.

“I don’t need to tap out, I can bench press your weight.”

You don’t have the time to whine at the loss of his fingers, not when he hauls you up and against the nearest wall, knocking your breath out of your lungs.

Simon is fueled by desperation, one hand under your arse to keep you where you should be, the other fishing for his zipper, knuckles knocking against yours in your dual haste: he hasn’t felt like this in ages and, this time, he’s actually in control of his own desire.

“Please!” You beg. “Now Simon!”

“Need to make sure…”

You snap your teeth near his ear, you don’t care if you’re ready or not, the drag of his cock against your folds is driving you mad.

“I swear to God if you don’t put it in immediately I will murder you in your sleep!”

He moans when he breaches you again. Despite his need, he pushes slowly in and out, helping your body accept his intrusion, his mouth overs yours, drinking your shaky breaths.

A juicy curse slips his lips once he’s bottomed out, your cunt trapping him in your depths, warm and silky around his cock.

Your forehead knocks against his, your breaths coming out in harsh puffs as you try to relax your quivering muscles around him and God you wish you could see his face.

“So… warm, ah!” He moans.

You call his name, drunk on the feeling of fullness, of being owned, on his hands grappling the cotton of the T shirt to reach your skin, shredding it to taste you on his tongue again. He’s burning up, he feels too hot and your trembling hands on the hem of his hoodie are a blessing, trying to free him, his scarred torso now crashing against yours, his lips locking with yours as he moves, desperate in and out of you, groaning when you sheath him again in your warmth.

“I can’t! I can’t!” You scream when his rough fingers find your clit again.

He needs you to come all around him the same way he needs air, he’s teetering his own end, those warm flames licking at the edge of his consciousness but he doesn’t want to be selfish, to use you again for his own pleasure.

“Need you.” He keens, broken when the high pitched scream of his name becomes a long wail and your body tries to squirm away from his hold, his fingers grabbing your hip so tightly he knows he’s going to leave bruises on the soft skin.

“Simon! Simon!”

You push with the heels of your feet against his tailbone, desperate to evade his hold, your brutalized clit firing and firing, the pleasure burning through you, his body pulling you closer, his cock pistoning wildly in your warmth, the squelching of your shared pleasure spurring him on, your nails scratching his skin careening him into his own pleasure.

You come, your cunt wounding so tightly around him that he spills with a shout that you don’t hear: you’ve already blacked out.

It’s Wednesday and you haven’t left your apartment. You’ve barely made out of bed to try and sort out the mess the storm has left on the balcony, on Monday, when he had left only to come back with a duffel filled with black, identical clothes (you’ve lost this bet with the nurses at the hospital, indeed he owns the same outfit, go figure!).

He had taken a long look at you, marched to where you were trying to save one of the potted plants smashed on the floor, had manhandled you inside your bedroom (and you were giggling the whole time like a teenager), removed your home clothes looking at them as if they personally offended him and bullied you into one of his black T shirts; only then he had looked at you and growled “That’s better”. And now you’re laying on the bed, cuddled with your head on his shoulder, while you’re browsing on your phone, in the hope to find an online store that isn’t Amazon, to find some surgical masks with sturdier straps than the one he’s currently using.

He’s black mass on the colorful bedding, dressed head to toe in his black clothes, skull baklava to protect his face. Only his hands are free of his gloves and he makes you feel like a Victorian gentleman staring at a naked ankle, your eyes wandering from your phone to his long fingers curled around an e-book reader.

It’s domestic, and all you ever wanted from life, despite being so different from what anyone you know would deem normal.

You two have talked about his whole demeanor of the past years, he’s worshiped your body until you had to beg him to stop, that it was too much; in the dark you have made good on your promise to map out his skin until he was choking on his on breathe, too far gone to even moan.

He hasn’t let you see his body during night time and that’s OK, you don’t expect him to overcome years of life in the span of a couple of days; the fact that he’s lounging with you, that he’s accepting the amount of physical contact that comes with you hugging him and using him as your personal body pillow, it’s a miracle to you. Last night, when you were trying to watch a movie, he had let you follow the paths of his sleeve tattoo, ending up falling asleep, his big body lax in your hold.

“We should go on a date.” You say, turning your head to look at his masked face.

“We have been on dates.”

“Eating take out food Soap has bullied you into buying is not a date.”

You can see his lips break out in a smile under the baklava.

“How is he still alive?”

“He’s a fast bastard.”

“You should thank him.”

“His head would grow ten times the size, you wouldn’t like that, love.”

“We should still go.”

There’s a part of him that still can’t believe this is happening, that you haven’t cussed him out in the rain, that you want to be seen around next to him, skull mask and all. That you’re so accepting of his hit and miss libido: he’s made up in Heaven, somehow, this can’t be his life.

Using your own distraction against you, he rolls you under his body: you look so right wearing his T-shirt and nothing else, it’s a travesty to dress you up in something that doesn’t smell like him.

“And where would you bring me?”

You beam up to him, your hands caressing his sides slowly over the material of his hoodie.

“Wherever you’d like.”

Even if it’s eating out on the balcony, you’d be happy, as long as he’s living his life with you, not hunting for scraps: you want to give him all.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley

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pepshee · 1 day ago

Text

Jealousy, or Jealous Hee: Second First Dates

⋆˙ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Pairing - ex!heeseung x fem!reader Genre - smut, a bit of fluff, angst Synopsis - After you hooked up with you ex-boyfriend, Heeseung, who had broken up with you out of the blue you didn't know what would happen afterward. Will you finally get your answer as to why? Word Count - 5.4k Warnings - cursing, mentions of alcohol, a bit of angst towards the end, smut, reader is insecure, mentions of manipulation and peer pressure, heeseung is an asshole in the first half, some cringe (oops), mentions of Jake & other idols, mentions of possessive heeseung, heeseung is desperate and begs for forgiveness, a little fluff, cream pie, fingering, p in v, plot twist-ish?, lmk if I missed anything!! MDNI 18+ A/N: thank you guys for the love on the first part i really appreciate it 😭 i didn't expect ppl to actually like it but im really glad you did! also if you have c.ai, i make bots over there too! my invite code here! also.. please keep in mind this is only my second time ever writing a fanfic so if it's ass in your opinion then idk what to tell you... i hope you do enjoy tho thank you in advance for reading !! <3 (even if you didn't like it)

PART ONE HERE

Waking up in your own dorm after you had hooked up with your ex at a house party last night wasn't what you expected. You thought you'd be next to him, but of course, that was crushed. At least he was a gentleman and brought you home, right? There was one question that lingered in your mind, what happens now? It was disappointing not waking up next to him, but then again, what did you really expect?

You get up out of your bed seeing your roommate's bed is empty, but then the smell of bacon hits you, she must be cooking. After getting dressed you make your way to the kitchen, you are so glad your university was at least prestigious so they had bigger dorms than the average one. You had a raging headache, as expected from the alcohol. "Hey Giselle," your voice a bit scratchy due to having just woken up.

Giselle turns around, you can see the slight concern in her eyes but also a hint of a smirk. "Y/N, you're up," she says softly, however, you still had a ton of questions in your mind. "What happened last night?" You're a bit embarrassed at the fact you had to even ask that question.

"Well.. After we went to the party we all split up and I assume you went to drink alcohol, cause the next thing we knew you were being brought out of the party by Heeseung. You were completely asleep, nothing woke you up," your face heats up a bit at the memory of getting drunk and hooking up with your ex-boyfriend who fucked you over. "Right.. and did he tell you any details about anything..” You hoped that he didn’t because it would be even more embarrassing for your friends to know you had sex with your ex who fucked you over.

Those hopes are immediately crushed by Giselle’s reply, “Y/N you were so drunk you had sex with Heeseung, your fucking ex and you don’t even remember it,” she chuckles at the end of her sentence.

Damn.. Well, now your friends know you hooked up with your ex-boyfriend.

“It was an accident..”

“Y/N it’s okay to want him back, but..” she paused for a moment emphasizing the word ‘but.’ “You shouldn’t let him get it so easily,” she continued.

Then an idea hit you, seduction.

“Giselle holy shit,” she perked up at your words while she plated the breakfast she just finished making for the two of you.

“What'd you think of girl?”

“I’m gonna post slightly revealing photos of myself on my Instagram story with little subtle jabs at him like he does to me, I’m gonna get back at him by showing him what he made himself lose,” you couldn't stop the grin that formed on your face.

“You mean you’re gonna ‘show him what he’s missing?' Isn’t that super cliché?” she might be right.. But he did it first.

“Well he’s been posting his new girls to make me jealous, so why don’t I try seducing him, and if he messages me I just play hard to get. Like you said, I shouldn’t let him get to me so easily,” you relayed your reasoning for the idea and you see Giselle think for a moment considering your words. “Okay you know what, maybe it is a good idea, after all, he fucked you over,” she almost started grinning.

After having eaten the breakfast Giselle cooked, you ran to your closet to pull over any sort of revealing clothes you had. You find a slightly-too-small black tank top, and grey shorts. You had originally planned on being comfy today since you were still hungover—you were wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, but you quickly change into the tank top and the shorts and then did your makeup.

You decided to take a selfie in bed, and so you lay down and grabbed your phone. You swiped right to open your camera, and you positioned it in a way where it would show your cleavage just enough so that it's not obvious.

It took you a bit to get the perfect one, but when you did, you open Instagram and thought of a caption to put.

'i miss you. missing you is hard, but i bet missing me makes you hard'

You knew it was definitely cringe, but it got your point across so you could live with the cringe right?

You'd clicked the 'Add to story' button almost too fast. You and Heeseung don't follow each other anymore but you know he stalks your account. He uses his friend's account to do it without it being suspicious, which you can't blame him because why else would you have Giselle's password if not to stalk your ex-boyfriend cause he stalks you?

After logging into Giselle's account you tapped on Heeseungs story to see what he had posted. You immediately regret your decision because you're met with a photo of him and his friends, with alcohol, snacks, and of course, Heeseung is with a girl. He even had the audacity to put 'this could've been you' god this asshole doesn't know when to stop does he?

He was just being nice to you last night after you hooked up, why does he keep doing this to you? Once again with the taunting...

You were so lucky not to have Saturday classes, it meant you could go anywhere you wanted to. Believe it or not, you were actually majoring in dance, and even though you didn't have to go to classes, you still at least wanted to go to the studio.

────୨ৎ────

Dancing was therapeutic to you, everyone told you not to do it as your major because it wouldn't take you anywhere they said to just leave it a hobby. However, before you even graduated college you had offers from Idol companies trying to scout you. Usually, you would have celebrated that with Heeseung but that obviously wasn't an option.

You had spent a few hours dancing and you were getting really hungry and tired so you sprayed some perfume and reapplied deodorant before grabbing your bag and leaving the studio.

You didn't want to go out to eat so you decided to settle on the on-campus cafeteria which thankfully makes decent food. It was just about lunch time so it was quite packed there. You walked up to one of the counters and looked at the menu, but you still couldn't quite see so you took a couple of steps back until you felt your back hit something... or was it, someone?

The hands that flew to your waist were a clear indicator of who it was without even needing to turn around, it was him.

Too petrified to turn around, you just stand there frozen, not knowing what to do.

"You think you're slick huh? I saw what you posted on Instagram, it's about me, isn't it? In that case, you may be right," It's like your whole body failed to react, it didn't know how to. "I will say, whatever you're trying to do, it's working," he leaned down to whisper that into your ear.

Before you can respond he lets go and walks away, finally turning around to watch him leave. What is his problem?

You ordered your food, which was tteokbokki and kimbap.

Throughout your lunch you keep thinking about what had happened with Heeseung, did he do it on purpose? There's no way he was just coincidentally there right?

Whatever his reasoning was, you didn't care, he was trying to get to you.

When you finished your lunch you didn't know what else to do today so instead you figured you'd at least hang out with your friends so you took out your phone.

────୨ৎ────

It didn't take long for you all to agree on the mall, and you're currently waiting for the others to arrive. You and Giselle had gone together since you're roommates so you were just waiting for Karina, Yujin, and Moka. Minnie wasn't able to make it since she had a test to study for.

A little while longer the other three finally arrived, the five of you walking through the mall and looking through various stores.

You decided to take this as an opportunity to buy more clothes to fuck with Heeseung. The clothes you were buying were either the slightest bit too small, making them tight so they cling to your curves, or showed some sort of skin, some a lot, some just enough that would make him crazy.

You see, one thing about Heeseung is while you two were dating he was such a sweetheart when you two were in public, but as soon as you got home is when his possessive side would show. He'd recount all the times a man looked at you a bit too much or too closely and he'd fuck your brains out.

That was one of your favorite things, how good he'd fuck you when you wore crop tops, skirts, shorts, or tank tops. He didn't control what you'd wear, he let you do whatever, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't wear revealing clothes in public on purpose cause you were horny for him to fuck you at home.

Any other time he was a sweetheart, he was perfect, he wouldn't hurt a fly but when you had sex that all went out the window.

Now, however, you're buying revealing clothes to piss him off, to make him break, to get revenge, to make him beg for mercy.

You felt as if this revenge plan was a bit bland, but you couldn't think of anything else but to just drive him insane.

You and the girls had a lot of fun, and got told to shut up a few times from laughing too loud... but at least you have had fun.

It was 8 PM by the time you and Giselle made it back to the dorms. You made it just in time for curfew so you wouldn't get in trouble. You'd always thought it was stupid for a university to give adults a curfew, but it was pretty influential so you guess the university just didn't want its reputation ruined by their students dropping out to take care of babies.

Curfew didn't do anything anyway, you just couldn't leave your specific dorm building after 8:30 PM, you didn't know what would happen if you did it anyway but you honestly didn't care enough to find out.

────୨ৎ────

That morning when you woke up you immediately thought about what to wear to make Heeseung jealous, to make him mad.

You reached over and grabbed your phone and opened Instagram in order to check Heeseungs story, of course, he has a new one. You tap on it and see a video, clearly taken by a friend of his and it's him, with a new girl—because of course it is who fucking else could it be—the video was Heeseung and his new girl, who you identified as Julie Han. She was in your dance group, and she was really good and she's really pretty. You've always admired her beauty, but also felt a bit insecure. You wanted to be like her so badly. Heeseung didn't know that, or maybe he did considering you two broke up before you even had the chance to meet your classmates.

Seeing this rubbed even more salt into the wound, the girl you'd admired, and wanted to be friends with, and that made you feel insecure. Obviously it wasn't her fault you were insecure, she was super nice to you, and she didn't say anything to make you insecure it was just all in your head.

Seeing the video of him with Julie, he had his arm around her, and they were clearly flirting. It made your blood boil, but at the same time made your eyes water. You didn't know if you should be angry, or if you should cry.

You didn't know if it was on purpose, or if he was just doing his usual girl-to-girl shit. If he did know then he was a complete asshole for using her against you.

The truth is, he did know.

Yesterday, when you were walking to the cafeteria for lunch, you were recording a voice message to send to your friends. You had run into Julie while leaving the studio. That reminded you that you hadn't even told your friends about her so that's why you were recording a voice message.

Heeseung was with you, well not with you, rather.. behind you. He was walking with his friends, and he hadn't even realized it was you until you started speaking. He couldn't stop himself from eavesdropping and when he heard what you said about Julie, he knew exactly what to do.

He wanted you back, desperately, he knew you wouldn't easily accept him back into your life so he decided to try and make you desperate, just as much as he is. He used Julie, he wanted to make you as jealous as possible so you crawl back to him. When he saw your first story with the subtle jab at him and the cleavage he knew you were trying to clap back at him, you were trying to give him a taste of his own medicine. He'd be a liar if he said it wasn't working because it was. He hated that you had posted that, that you were revealing yourself to others. He knew he fucked up, and he knew he needed you back.

After you had seen the story of Julie and Heeseung you knew you had to strike again. You got out of bed and went to your closet grabbing one of the bags of new clothes you'd gotten yesterday. After dumping the clothes on your bed you finally picked out an outfit you knew would rile him up. It was a pair of white shorts, with a dark blue top. The top was pretty much a bralette, it's not something you'd wear out, but you bought it for the purpose of making Heeseung jealous—also in case you decided to go to the bar or another party—you went to your bathroom to do your hair and makeup before taking the photo.

After you finished those you posed in front of your mirror with your phone in hand. You tried doing poses that would show off your ass or would maximize the amount of skin you show in the picture.

Finally, after about 5-10 minutes you got the perfect shot, and you went straight to Instagram to post it.

With a small filter added, all you had to do was add the caption, but what should you even put? You had no clue honestly, you weren't as witty as you had originally thought.

Maybe posting it without a witty caption would be better, making less noise will create more noise.

So that's exactly what you did. You uploaded the photo to your story and waited. Waited for Heeseung to see it., until he did.

Heeseung went onto Instagram after he hung out with his friends, plus Julie, and he saw that you had posted on your story. He clicked on it and what he saw was something he expected, but also didn't. He hated that you were posting shit like this. He couldn't take it anymore, he slid up and started typing out a reply to your story.

It was about three hours after you had posted it when you got a notification while you were scrolling through tik tok.

'heeseung.lhs69 replied to your story: Y/N can you knock this off?'

Seeing the notification shocked you, first off why does he have '69' in his username? Is he serious? Since when did he have 7th-grade boy humor? It was probably the fault of his dumbass friends.

You didn't really know how to reply to him, but what matters is your plan worked. He fell for your bait finally.

you: what're you talking abt ?

hee: you know what I'm talking abt y/n

you: no i don't think i do heeseung

hee: we should talk in person y/n

you: ykw fine when and where

hee: ice cream place where we had our first date, 6 pm, today

you: k i'll see you then ig

Although it didn't seem like it, you were really nervous. He seemed serious even if it was just over text. It was only 4:30, so you had about an hour and thirty minutes to get ready or contemplate your choices, probably both.

You started getting ready, you didn't know how to dress really. You went for simple baggy jeans, a grey tank top, and a zip-up sweater. It was now 5:30, and so you left your dorm and started walking to said ice cream place.

After entering you saw him.. he was sitting at a booth. He looked quite nervous actually which is a big contrast to how you've been seeing him for two and a half years.

You slid into the seat in front of him and he immediately looked up from the table to look at you. "Hey," his voice was soft and gentle. You looked into his eyes, his soft, big doe eyes.. Looking into his eyes was your favorite activity when you were together, they were so beautiful. "Hey," you replied, also in a soft and gentle tone.

"I think we have to talk Y/N, I just want to explain myself," you let out a sigh knowing that he's right, you do have to talk. How could he leave you like that? "Explain it to me Heeseung, explain to me why you left me like the way you did," he was immediately saddened when you raised your voice a little at him.

"Y/N, I'll explain.. Please just calm down. I don't have a good reason.. Jake, my roommate, well we were talking and he told me about all the girls he's been with, and he asked me about how many girls he and I told him we've been together for five years and he started laughing. He then told me he was gonna invite a couple of friends, which he did," you didn't interrupt him the whole time. You just listened as he continued to talk.

"When they came over, it was four of them, Jake told them what I said about you and then they all started going on about how I'm too young to be tied down like that, I should live a little. I originally shot it down but they started giving me alcohol. The more they talked about the benefits of being single, and the more they talked about all the fun they have I started to believe them. I felt as though I was tying you down, I was a burden, that you'd be better off without me," you didn't know if you should be pissed off or pity him, he was influenced by his 'friends.'

"I started to believe what they were telling me, and they were telling me I should just let you go because you're probably getting bored. I was scared of the future, I was scared you'd break it off cause you were bored, and so I broke up with you first. I started doing all the things they did, hookup, smoke, drink, party and I did it all to move on from you," his story was making sense, that's 100% something his friends would do but you were still pissed at him.

"That doesn't explain to me why you didn't just think to talk to me and express your feelings to me. We could've talked this out, but you didn't even bother to text me," he sighed knowing you were right, and he didn't even have an excuse.

"I don't have an excuse, I'm an idiot Y/N. I love you so much and I wasn't thinking, they manipulated me, and I believed it all.. It was selfish of me and I know what I did was wrong. I hurt you and I'm just realizing it. It took me this long to realize how much of an asshole I was, my actions weren't okay," he looked back down at the table like he was in shame.

"Why would you post girls in your story though? I know it was to make me jealous, your story makes sense but that part doesn't add up," honestly you believed his story. He's always been quite gullible and pliable. Obviously, you never used that as an advantage, you'd never take advantage of him.

"Well... I wanted you back but I didn't know how to contact you.. How to communicate it, how to get through to you. When you posted that on your story earlier I couldn't hold back. I know you've been using Giselle's account to view my story, and that's not exactly relevant, but I've been doing it cause I miss you, and I want you. My new persona, it's all fake. I don't like doing this stuff. I just wanted to fit in and forget about you, I was depressed and vulnerable when Jake started doing what he was doing. I love you, I miss you, I want you, and I don't have any good excuses."

He's right, his excuse isn't exactly good, he knows he fucked up, and did you wrong. He had no actual good excuse, he had no actual reason for the thing with the girls.

"You should've just talked to me Heeseung," you were disappointed in him, and you resented him. "I know Y/N, I'm an idiot, and I made a selfish, vulnerable mistake. Please, I want you to forgive me, I want to be with you again, I want to be with you forever," those last few words were kind of shocking to you. Did he mean that? You both had discussed marriage and the future briefly and that ended in a big argument so it was never brought up again.

"What are you even saying?"

"I'm saying I see a future with you, and I know we had a huge fight about the future which also led to our break up, but I'm serious. I want you back. Please," he didn't stutter, not one bit and that solidified his point. He was serious.

"Okay, but you still hurt me, you still did all these bad things that made you an asshole. I can't just forget what you did to me," he was so, so desperate for you, so desperate to get you back to him. "Please."

He kept repeating himself,

"Please Y/N,"

"Please,"

It was almost pathetic how he was begging, how he was so desperate, but at the same time, it was so sexy. You had never seen him beg you before, he'd always been the top. You looked into his eyes, and he was staring right back at you waiting for a response.

It was difficult, you didn't know if you should forgive him, after all, he happened to fall in with the wrong crowd, he was manipulated, he was molded.

"Heeseung, you still fucked me over, you still ruined me, and broke my heart. Don't you know how hard this is?" he nodded, he knew you'd be hesitant. He never expected you to give in immediately and he knew he would have to convince you. However, there was one detail he left out, one that would change everything.

"Y/N, there was a detail I left out, and it seems that you completely forgot that you also played a part in this. You're not completely innocent," you were confused, how could that even be?

"When Jake was giving me alcohol and convincing me of all these things, I texted you, I needed you, I needed your support in that moment, and I know you weren't busy either. You ignored me, ignored me when I needed you most. That, plus all the manipulation, it broke me, it made me send that text, made me spiral into who I am now," holy shit. He was right.

Nearly three years ago, two days before your first day as a college freshman, you were decorating your dorm. You and Giselle went shopping for decorations and you weren't busy at all that whole day which Heeseung knew.

You had seen the notifications coming in, you read them and you didn't reply. You remember the texts, you remember it all.

'y/n i need you rn'

'babe pls reply'

'i need you please im serious y/n pls respond'

You were so caught up in your dorm decorations, and shopping you ignored Heeseung when he needed you the most, when he needed you to save him.

You weren't busy, you just simply didn't reply.

It was partly your fault.

"Heeseung.." now it was your turn to beg, to ask for forgiveness, and it didn't feel very good. "I'm so sorry, it's my fault. I saw the texts and I just ignored them, and I don't know why. You needed me, you needed help, and I wasn't there.. Holy shit," you wanted to reach for his hand, to hold him, but you knew you didn't have the right to.

"Y/N, I needed you, I really did, and you weren't there. We both fucked up, we both contributed to the end of our relationship. What matters is that I realized what was happening, that I changed for the worst, and that I realized that they had manipulated me, and peer pressured me. We both messed it up, and I want to fix it, please," his words resonated with you and he was absolutely correct. You both fucked up.

"What do we do? Do you mean you want to get back together?" you were hoping he would say yes, you did want to get back with him, I mean that was literally the whole goal.

"Yes, I want you to be mine again, I still love you, I never stopped," you immediately nodded in response telling him you also wanted to be back together.

"I missed you, babe," the nickname had always made your heart flutter but hearing it after all these years that's not in the context of a one-night stand made your cheeks heat up.

It felt like your first date all over again, you're even in the same place, a second first date.

"Let's go back to my dorm, Jake isn't there, and he won't return till like the afternoon tomorrow," you nodded and got up. He grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the ice cream shop and back towards campus.

After you arrived at his dorm he couldn't hold himself back and immediately crashed his lips to yours. You instantly started kissing him back. It felt more real this time, it was filled with love, passion, and longing.

You felt your back hit the wall as his hands grabbed onto your hips, and your fingers got lost in his hair.

He broke away from the kiss before grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off of you. "You've been driving me insane, you know, with those revealing photos of yours. Especially the one of your cleavage. I missed your tits so bad baby," his hands grab your clothed tits. You can feel him reach behind your back and make quick work of the clasp he was clearly skilled.

When he got it off you could feel his mouth attach to one of your nipples. You let out a small moan which just egged him on. "Hee— please," he let go of your nipple and looked into your eyes, but that didn't last long because he immediately started kissing your neck, and biting it gently while he unbuttoned your jean shorts.

"Shit I missed this so fucking much Y/N," you clenched around nothing at his words, you could feel that your underwear was ruined, and how drenched they were, and so could he.

Once he got your shorts off he threw them somewhere in the room, it didn't even matter. You felt his hands trace your underwear and touched your clothed pussy. He let out a groan at the feeling of how wet you were, "holy shit Y/N, you're so fucking wet already," he took your hand dragging you to his bed. He debated doing it on Jake's bed for revenge, but he didn't want any more problems or misunderstandings, he just wanted you.

Now you were lying on his bed with him hovering above you. This time it felt more real, it felt more passionate rather than when you were drunk and stupid.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and pulled it off, and when he did you got shy and tried to close your legs but he wouldn't let you. He gripped your thighs and pulled them apart again giving him a view of your bare, dripping pussy. The look of pure hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

He ran one of his hands down your thigh, then to your inner thigh, and finally reached your core. He ran a finger through your folds teasing your entrance. You were so desperate you couldn't help but moan.

The wetness of your cunt made him groan, and his pants tighten. He stuck one finger in, and then a second. The intrusion made you moan and squirm, but that only made him smirk.

He thrusted his fingers in and out of you slightly curling them to hit that spot that makes you scream.

"Fuck— Right there Heeseung!" You moan out.

"Yeah? You like that baby?" He chuckled a little, and the smirk on his face grew.

He continued to move his fingers and started going even faster. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach start to tighten and you knew what was coming. "Heeseung.. Shit," he nodded slowly and spoke "Come on, cum on my fingers baby," his words made you clench around his fingers before you finally reached your limit with a moan loud enough you were sure the neighboring dorms could hear.

Both yours and his breathing were fast and heavy. He was still hovering above you while he looked at your face which was covered in a thin layer of sweat. "Can you take my cock, or are you completely spent?" He asked the question in a soft tone not wanting to hurt you or overwhelm you.

"I need your cock Heeseung," the softness in his eyes instantly left now replaced with a look of desire, and lust. "Then that's exactly what you're gonna get baby," he started removing his clothing starting with his shirt, then his belt, his pants, and finally his boxers.

When he took his boxers off you couldn't stop staring at his dick. The thick, long, veiny shaft was one you had missed in these past years. "I can see you staring my love," you couldn't even stop yourself and you just kept staring.

He gave himself a couple of pumps spreading the precum along his shaft. He then lined himself up with your entrance, he hesitated for a moment looking at you, "Do you want it rough, or slow?"

"Please give it to me rough," he didn't give you a second to think before he pushed inside of you quickly, and immediately bottomed out.

"Fuck!" You moaned out at the feeling of the stretch of your hole from his cock.

He grabbed your thighs tightly allowing him to thrust into you more efficiently. You felt him hit your G-spot every time he moved in and out. You felt your climax approaching and you bucked your hips as he groaned feeling you clench around him.

You finally went over the edge and came onto his cock, while you felt him release into you. His thrusts slowed to help you ride out your orgasm before he slowly pulled out, making you whine at the empty feeling.

He kissed your lips before lying down next to you. You turned to look at him and you stared into each other's eyes, a soft smile forming on his lips. "Goodnight my love, I missed you so much. I won't fuck this up."

You were going to respond but the exhaustion caught up to you and you fell asleep in his arms, for the first time in years as his girlfriend.

TAGLIST : @clandestineself @kittympirty @azzy02 @wemalyri @jayhoonvroom @hwangswife4

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blueblossomcherry · 1 day ago

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Sunrise with You

pairing: lee minho x reader

cw: oral (f receiving), dry humping, hair pulling, pet names (love, baby), fingering, after care (i’m not very good at writing it), unprotected sex (🚫)

genre: fluff, smut

wc: 1304

warning: this is my first fic in a long time and my first smut ever (i’m sorry if it’s bad🙏🏻)

mdni, 18+

It's been weeks since Minho has had a day off, but fortunately he's off today. The two of you had plans to stay in bed all day, cuddling and watching movies. You had wanted to sleep for as long as possible, however those plans were ruined when you were awoken by the light coming from your window.

You roll over and see Minho still sound asleep. Once you settle, you feel Minho's arms wrap around your waist. Snuggling into his warmth, you take a moment to admire your sleeping boyfriend. He’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, with his soft hair and his cat-like features. You have the urge to brush his hair out of his eyes but the last thing you want to do is wake him up, knowing he needs his sleep. After a few moments, you feel him stirring in his slumber.

“Good morning, love,” He says, in his sexy morning voice.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” You say, smiling and kissing his forehead.

“I always sleep well when you're with me,” He replies, smiling and winking. You laugh in response. He always has a way of putting a smile on your face, no matter the situation. That's your favorite thing about him.

“I love you so much Minho,” You tell him, stars in your eyes and a blush on your cheeks. You still get shy saying that to him. Even after a whole year, you just can’t believe he’s yours.

“I love you more,” Minho says, a serious look in his eyes, as if he wants to make sure you know just how much he means it.

“Do you remember what today is?” You ask, excitedly. You knew he would remember, he’s remembered everything to do with you since the day you guys met.

“Do you really think I would forget something as important as our anniversary?” He asks, jokingly looking offended. You just smile at him, getting lost in his gorgeous eyes. He sits up, looking you in the eyes.

“Happy anniversary, love,” He whispers, his lips just inches away from yours. You close your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you. When you don’t feel his lips against yours, you open your eyes. Only to find him looking at you with a teasing smile on his face.

“Minho,” You whine, pouting your lips. His eyes immediately darken, watching your lips. Seeing this, you decide to get back at him for teasing you. You push him back on the bed, straddling his hips. He groans and you can feel him growing hard under you within seconds. You smile at just how easily he’s wrapped around your finger. Rolling your hips against his, you start kissing his neck. His clothed tip hits your clit perfectly, making your eyes roll back.

“Come on baby, let me see that pretty face,” He tells you, grabbing your hair and forcing you to look at him. You moan out loud at the force, placing your hands on his chest for balance. You feel yourself getting close, hips stuttering. Minho, seemingly noticing, grabs your hips, forcefully stopping you from moving.

“No, please let me cum,” You plead, already sensing that you were in for a long morning.

“Already begging?” He asks, laughing at how pathetic you sounded already. Taking your shirt off, he flipped you both over. His eyes dilated at the sight in front of him. Underneath him was exactly where he wanted you at all times. His rough hands playing with your perfect tits as you moaned softly. Feeling your arousal through your soaked panties on his thigh.

He lowered his mouth down to your nipple, licking and sucking. While he was abusing your nipple with his mouth, he brought his fingers up to the other, his thumb teasingly circling it. You couldn’t hold your moans in, making him smirk. Once he decided they were given enough attention, he moved down, kissing down your stomach until he got to your panties.

“Look how wet you are for me,” He coos, rubbing your clit through your panties.

“Can I taste you baby?” He asks, waiting for your consent before he goes any further. You nod, unable to speak from how desperate you were.

“I need words, love,” Minho tells you, looking you in the eyes.

“Yes, please,” You breathe out, needing to be touched by him. He removes your panties, breath hitching as he sees them sticking to your wet cunt. You spread your legs further, giving him a good look at your glistening folds. He dives right in, flicking your clit with his tongue, as his fingers find your pulsating hole. Immediately, your hands find his hair, yanking and pulling every time he hits a sensitive spot. Eventually, he removes his fingers, earning a whine from you at the loss of contact. He lowers his tongue, teasingly lapping everywhere except where you need him most.

“Minho, stop teasing,” You whine, pulling his hair harder. He groans, his tongue finally entering you. With his tongue thrusting into you and his nose hitting your clit every so often, it was only a matter of time until you reached the edge.

“Fuck, Minho I’m gonna cum,” You moan out, arching your back.

“Cum around my tongue baby,” He says against your cunt, the vibration pushing you over the edge.You came with a loud moan, Minho helping you ride out your high with his tongue. You felt exhausted but you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Can you get up, love? We don’t have to do anymore if you’re too tired,” He says, clearly concerned. You smile at how much he clearly cares for you.

“I’m okay,” You tell him, brushing his hair back from his eyes. He offers his hand to help you up and you take it. Once you’re up, Minho starts kissing you. You kiss him back, your hands immediately back in his hair.

“Do you mind if I record this, baby? I want to be able to reminisce on our 1st anniversary,” He says, smiling. You smile back, remembering him talking about wanting to record you guys one time.

“Please do,” You reply, winking at him. His smile widens and he gets off the bed to set his phone up. When he comes back, he positions himself behind you.

“Are you ready?” He asks, lining his dick up with your entrance. Instead of answering him, you back yourself up, his cock slipping in.

“Mmmm, fuck,” He moans out, surprised by your actions, gripping your hips to steady himself.

“Minho, please move,” You plead, clenching around his cock. He starts slamming into you, not giving you any time to adjust. He moves his hands from your hips to your ass, smacking and grabbing. The pain slowly turns into pleasure and before you know it, the only sounds in the room are pants, moans and skin slapping together. Minho grabs a fistful of your hair with one of his hands and pulls it back, forcing your head back. With his other hand, he finds your clit and starts circling it. You moan loudly, about to reach your high for the second time this morning.

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” Minho moans out, his eyes rolled back. You moan in agreement, your eyes screwed shut from the pleasure he’s giving you. Once you both reach your high, you collapse from exhaustion.

Minho shuts off the camera and gets a wet cloth to clean you up. Once he's done cleaning you up, he goes into your closet and gets you some new clothes. He helps you slip into them and helps you back into bed.

“I’m gonna go make us some food, love,” Minho tells you as he tucks you back into bed. Oh, how lucky you are to have a boyfriend like him.

#stray kids #lee know #lee minho #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader

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skulla-rxcks · 1 day ago

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No doubts, all love

Paring: Noah Sebastian X fem reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: unprotected, P in V, cr3ampie, wholesome s3x. Oral (fem rec), praise

Word count: 1.2k

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28 @bangchans-gf5 @fun-fanfics @iwannabangchan @linosluver

Please dm me or use my inbox if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

It’s been 4 months since I’ve seen Noah. 4 months that he’s been on tour; it somehow feels like an eternity.

I miss the way he kisses me, the way he feels inside me and his hugs. I feel lost without his comfort, it’s been way too long. I’ve stayed up all night, I’m almost exhausted of waiting. I feel my eyes slowly start to flutter shut, I’ve stayed up tonight wanting to welcome him when he runs through the door, holding and greeting him with my warm arms; pulling him into a hug. A few hours have pasted since he told me that he’d be home, I haven’t heard from him since, maybe his phone died? I let out a sigh and get under my blankets. But then I hear the door open. I’m too tired to greet him at the door like I was planning to; I’m absolutely drained of my energy.

“You in here..?” I hear him say.

“Mhm. I was up waiting..”.

“Fuck. Sorry Angel. Want me to make it up to you or are you too tired?” I nod at his words, please. God. I Need him. I begin stripping desperately, needy. “Noah please..” I cry out, now laying down fully nude before him. “Need you..” a whimper escapes my lips as I reach out to him, shakily unbuttoning his pants and slipping them and his boxers down. “You have me, baby.” He smiles as he takes his shirt off; lifting it up over his head. Both of us are completely bare, admiring each other, our eyes giving the sign of lustfulness.

Noah gets on top of me, kissing my lips softly before entering his tongue into my mouth, our tongues twisting and tasting each other. “Mmgh.. n-Noah..” I moan, opening my legs waiting for him to enter me. “Not yet, patience.” He chuckles, moving down and putting his head between my legs. He starts sucking and licking on my clit, entering two fingers inside of me to stretch me out. “Fuck!” I cry out, my head falling against the pillows as I experience the pleasure and pure bliss. “Shh.. just enjoy.. I missed this, missed your pussy.” He whispers; the words vibrating off my cunt.

“NOAH please! I need you!” I beg, moving his head up and forcing it against my lips, kissing him deeply. “I know you do. Patience.. your cunt is twitching..” he chuckles going back to my pussy; he enters two fingers inside of me finding my special spot almost immediately, he sucks on my clitorus roughly and sloppily. “Fuck.. Noah~” I moan.. “shh..” he shushes me, thrusting his fingers in me sloppily. “I need you. I need your dick please.” I cry out, I’ve never needed him this badly before it’s insane. “Be patient and let me taste you. You’ll get me soon honey.” I nod, whimpering as he thrusts his fingers deeper into me.

“You’re so tight, it’s been so long, too long”.

“Mhm,, I missed you so much Noah..” I sigh, pushing his face deeper into my cunt; my fingers twirling in his hair. “Fuck I missed this taste, missed you.” He mumbles, vigorously licking my clit, scraping his teeth against it slightly. “Gonna make you cum so many times tonight baby.” “Please.. I Need it so badly holy fuck..” i moan out. He proceeds to thrust his fingers deeper into me, stretching me out making sure I’m ready for what’s to come; his dick.

Fuck, his fingers feel so good I missed him so fucking much. I feel myself getting closer and closer to release. “You close?” I nod “mhm,, keep doing that..” he chuckles in response to me, his fingers now pressing against my g spot even more, “you can do it baby, cum on my fingers.” He encourages me. I feel myself final reach my orgasm, cumming all over his fingers, moaning his name as I do so. “Good girl” Noah praises, taking his fingers out of me and licking my release off of them. “You tasted so good.”

“Can I have you now?” I pout, reaching for his boxers. “Sure baby, you’ve been a good girl.”

“Thank you..” I smile, watching as he pulls his boxers off. “Shirt off too.. I wanna see all of you.” I say, tugging on his shirt and helping him pull it over his head watching him stand fully naked before me, he reaches over to the draws next to us and pulls out a condom, I stop him. “No, I want you raw. Please?” I look at him innocently. “But we’ve never done it raw so-“

“I know I just.. need to feel you, need you to breed me, please?” I beg, pouting as I look at him. “Alright, you’re still on the pill, yeah?” I nod, confirming that I am, wanting this even though there’s still a risk. “Okay baby, if you say so.” He smiles. Walking back to me and positioning himself at my hole. Pushing slowly inside my pussy. “Fuck you feel so good raw.. shit..” Noah groans, now fully sheathed inside me.

“I missed you so much holy fuck.” I cry out in pain and pleasure as he begins to thrust inside of me, feeling him bare against my walls, hitting my cervix. Fuck the feeling is unreal! I pull his face to mine and kiss him, our tongues tangling sloppily. “I love you so much..” he says into the kiss, fucking me slow and gentle. “You look so pretty getting railed by me~”

I moan, hugging him tightly as he pounds me. “Fucking gorgeous..” he murmurs, pulling way from the kiss and kissing down my neck, sucking on the skin there; giving me hickeys, marking me so everyone knows I’m his. His hips move faster, pressing against my body as he continues to fuck me. “Oh fuck! So good..” I moan out. The sensation of him fucking me and marking me at the same time being unreal. “Your moans are so pretty.. so fucking hot being in you raw.”

“Noah please.. fuck~” I cry, my hands trailing down to his back, pushing him closer against my body; our bare bodies filling the room with noises of slapping skin and the smell of sex. “Please what baby?” He asks, continuing to nipple on my neck, sending vibrations of pleasure throughout my body. “Please, more.. need you more.” My voice is mixed with my whimpers as he rails me. “So needy~” he teases before moving faster, his cock hitting my cervix with every thrust, being as deep as he can go, making me moan and making my body clingy and needier just for him.

“Fuck such a good girl for me..” he praises me again. “I’m getting close Angel, you sure you want me to fill you up? Want me to breed you full?” He chuckles, making sure I’m certain about what I want. “Please Noah.. I Need you, need your cum, need all of you..” i feel myself getting tighter around him, our climaxes both approaching at the same time. “Gonna fill you up nice and good baby.” He groans, picking up his pace. “Please~” I cry out, feeling him final cum, filling me up, making me whimper at the feeling of it. “Fuck.. Noah..” I sigh, bringing his face to mine and kissing him deeply. “I love you.” He says, kissing me as he finally finishes filling me up. “I love you more.”

#~skulla rxcks #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fic #bad omens smut

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redbluepurple123 · 2 days ago

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He probably has a thing for your hair…

Note: …I’m starting to love this fanfiction thing. Here’s my third one! Just a little drabble - only lightly proofread, Iwrote this so fast 😂

Tags: MDNI, NSFW below the cut, fingering, praising, hair pulling, withheld orgasms, Caleb the man that you are, “come for me”

ENJOY! 🫶

Caleb likes to run his fingers through your hair gently. Maybe to help you fall asleep, maybe absently while you watch TV or cuddle.

Caleb also likes likes to lace his fingers through your hair at the base of your scalp and close a fist around it when he’s kissing you. Maybe he jerks your head back, just enough to force you to look at him, enough to guarantee you feel this kiss and the sensation of him claiming you run down your skin in a shiver. Maybe he pulls down to open your edible neck up to him.

Your hair is so soft, falling over your shoulders, it’s so easy to carcass and play with and, most importantly, it gives him just an edge of control over you. Caleb can hold onto you. One tug and he can move you, so long as he has a fistful of your hair. His grip makes you compliant and can keep you close—that’s all he wants.

And the sounds. God, the sounds you make. That breath, short and clipped, that little gasp you do, right when he snaps your head back to look at him, plucks the chord of weak restraint and breaks it.

His entire goal after that is to make you breathless and panting for pleasure—to make you beg for him.

Which, if we’re honest, wasn’t difficult. That’s exactly what you’re doing now.

Caged between his legs, back pressed to his chest, Caleb has your thighs spread open, fingers playing with you in slow, tantalizing strokes that make your hips tremble. Poor thing. It had been an hour of this and he’d left you sweating and shaking and so, so fucking wet.

Your hair falls in waves down your naked body, some of it draped over his arms and shoulder. It tickles his skin and he makes a small sound of pleasure from the back of his throat.

“Caleb,” you gasp, “please.”

See. Not that difficult.

Caleb grips a mess of your hair and pulls your head to the side, craning it so your ear is just below his mouth.

“You get to come when I say so,” he murmurs. With one of those gasps that are music to his ears, you bow off his chest, desperately trying to rut your hips into the heel of his palm, strung out on a withheld climax.

“Ah ah ah, Pips,” he pulls you back with a tug on your scalp and you crash back into him. “Not so fast.”

“Please,” there are desperate tears in your eyes, “please, I can’t take much more.”

Caleb nuzzles his face into your nape, inhaling the floral scent of your hair by the lungful and casts an amused glance down your naked form just to watch himself play with you.

“Look at you,” he smiles onto your shoulder, fingers diving deeper into your weeping cunt. “Such a pretty mess. Rock your hips for me, Pips.” You do instantly at a feverish pace, desperate for release, but are corrected when Caleb tugs on your hair, “Slower.”

With a broken breath you slow down, undulating yours hips back and fourth, back and forth, fucking his fingers inside you.

See. Compliant, also.

“Listen to how wet you are,” he whispers onto your nape.

“Mhm,” you bite down on your lip and take in the sight between your thighs, Caleb’s glistening hand working in time with your movements, the sounds of your wetness, the rocking of your hips. “Oh God, Caleb—”

“Not yet,” a tug on your hair reminds you to behave. “Keep fucking my fingers.” Another inhale of your scalp and a word of your perfumed scent sends a shock of pleasure to his cock. “Fuck them like you missed me, Pips.”

Chest heaving, you comply, slowing your hips to a movement that forces Caleb’s fingers in to the knuckle. You anchor yourself by gripping onto either one of his thighs and again, dragging your cunt up and down on his sweet hand.

“That’s my girl,” Caleb whispered. “Do you want it?”

“Please. Please, I need it.”

“Then come for me.”

As if a switch flips, you fuck his fingers so quickly, so ferociously, the orgasm finds you in seconds. You cave into yourself, overstimulated, trying to push away from his hand as your body jerks and shakes.

But caught between his legs, hair in his hands, Caleb holds you in place and when you’ve lost all sense of composure, moves his hand inside you again, forcing a second orgasm. And then a third until you’re limp and lifeless against his body.

With a small chuckle to himself, he brushes your hair back from your neck and plants a punctuating kiss there, twisting his fingers into that mane he loves so damn much.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

#love and deepspace #l&ds #love & deepspace #l&ds caleb #lads caleb #caleb fanfic #lnds caleb #caleb #love and deepspace Caleb #caleb fic #caleb x reader

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collaredswitchacademic · 2 days ago

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Fuck I need to play fight & wrestle with another guy and have us both get a little too into it. Panting and pushing, punching one another and leg locks. Biting whatever part of him I can reach. Putting one another in a headlock, he pushes my face into the mattress knowing that he’s won my submission. That he brought down the feral cat boy and now he gets to play with him however he likes. Feeling him take down my pants and underwear in a swift motion almost ripping them off me. Then he fingers both of my holes until I’m swearing and whining and begging him to just fucking put it in already. When he leans over and whispers in my ear,

“No, Daddy is going to play with his faggot as long as he fucking wants. You and your holes are mine, daddy is going to fuck you like a real man.” Then he fingers me for hours with my face down and ass up, knowing how horny it makes me and ignoring how needy I become.

Cumming multiple times from just his fingers but it’s when he brings out the dildo that I love, that’s when things start to heat up. I get so excited thinking finally I get something in my soaked cunt but no he lubes it up and puts it in my ass. Watching it stretch as I whine. Begging him to put something in my cunt too.

He scoffs at me and says, “No, good fags like you get fucked in their asses. Plus baby boy, this is a cock. Not a-what did you call it?”

I murmur quietly, “A cunt”

“What boy, speak up. I can’t hear you?” He says and slaps my cunt hard.

“A cunt, I called it a cunt, please” I’d whine nearing tears because of how hard the slaps were.

“No baby, this is your cock and Daddy’s going to teach you how slutty fags like you need to be treated.”

“No Daddy please, I don’t wanna get punished.”

“Baby this isn’t a punishment, you just gotta take it like a man. I’m teaching you baby. Don’t you wanna be a good student?”

“Yes Daddy, I’ll be a good boy.”

“That’s my boy, atta boy! Now, take Daddy’s cock, fag.” As he removes the dildo and slides his full length in.

#julianmeows!#ftm nsft #force masc #this was inspired by some force masc I’ve been doing with a dom I play with #it’s been very very fun

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bernardsbendystraws · 2 days ago

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You Don’t Own Me

P1 P2 P3 P4 P5 P6 P7

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: none

A/N: bacon sounds so good rn

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P6: Choking on Meat

wc: 1900+

The warmth of the morning sun filtering through the curtains makes my skin pulse with a lively feeling. I admire the golden glow cascading in the room, my mind waking up as I recognize the semi-familiar surroundings—Chris’s room.

Fuck. I need to be home.

My body twists under a heavy weight. I look down to see his arm wrapped around my waist tightly, his lips tickling my neck as light breaths push through his lips. Oh. He’s spooning me—well, practically cradling me. It’s not even just his arm over my waist, his other arm is under my neck, caging me in against him completely.

The rise and fall of his chest against my back is slow. His hold on me is so secure, almost as if he’s afraid I’ll disappear. And part of me doesn’t want to move. Maybe I should just stay a little longer…

“Hmmmm.” He hums into my hair, pulling me even closer as he sighs. It’s odd. The feeling of butterflies in my stomach is overbearing.

I need to leave.

“Chris—” My words are interrupted as he lets out some sort of grunt, holding me even closer. “I need to—”

The whine that murmurs through his lips makes my chest tighten, the feeling of his lips against my neck sending a wave of butterflies into the pit of my gut.

It’s so… different. He seems so soft—so gentle.

I maneuver my feet just the slightest, the heavy weight of Trevors small figure nowhere to be found. Sitting up slightly, I huff as Chris practically yanks me back down into his hold. I roll my eyes, my eyes drifting uncomfortably up towards the door.

Oh fuck.

His door is open just a crack, the room barren of any dog. Someone came in here—someone saw. Was it Matt? Had it been his dad? Honestly, I didn’t know which one was worse.

The digital clock glares back at me as I stare over to his nightstand.

11:37 a.m.

My eyes bulge, my entire body tensing with pure horror. I never sleep in this late. Even though I know it’s a Sunday, my mom had probably come to check on me—she had probably seen the empty bed.

Maybe there’s a small chance she hasn’t noticed yet. Any chance, I was willing to take at this point.

I nudge Chris a bit. “I need to go home—”

“Shhhh,” he breathes, nuzzling his face further into my neck. “Haven’t slept in so long. Please,” he begs, his gruff words barely coherent.

My body falls limp, my teeth biting into my lip as I stare at the surroundings of the room. Why hasn’t he slept?

As my mind runs in circles, I fail to hear the pummel of paws get closer to the door, the slight scratch making me smile as I see Trevor jump up on the bed. He walks directly in front of me, plopping and curling underneath Chris’s hand around my waist.

He’s so cute.

“Sleep good?”

Shit.

My face falls as I look up to see Matt staring at me from the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest while raising a brow at me.

“Matt get the fuck out of my room,” Chris spits.

Matt sighs as he closes the door. “Dad came in earlier to get Trevor, so have fun explaining that.”

Oh god. Could this get any worse?

“Chris, I need to get home,” I announce, trying to pry his arm off of me slowly.

“I’m fine, I just—nevermind,” he puffs, releasing me from his hold as if he had been burned. I feel a dull ache in my chest, a sinking sensation spreading through my body. Chris gets up quickly. He stands up, running a hand over his face with a deep sigh.

“I need to go home—”

“What? You need me to walk you like a dog?”

Ouch.

My face falls as I recognize his bitter tone, his eyes dropping to a cold glare as he rummages around the room mindlessly. Is he even looking for something? Or does he just want to ignore me?

Trevor nuzzles further into me, letting out a small grumble as I get up off the bed. I pet my hand soft on his head, my lips curling into a sympathetic smile as I try to take a deep breath.

“Get out of my room. Go home,” Chris tuts, barely brushing past me as he storms out the door, leaving it open as if he’s trying to urge me to be faster.

He doesn’t spare me any sort of acknowledgment before disappearing down the hallway. I hear a door click shut, the sound of shower water buzzing from the other side of the wall. My eyes drift to Trevour. I feel my lip quiver, a wave of chaos floating into my mind. Why did he have to be so cold?

It felt good to be in someone’s arm, for them to want me. And it had perished as soon as he really woke up. I thought we had some sort of understanding, but I guess not.

I walk out the room, my arms folded across my chest as I take soft steps towards the living room. My feet freeze as I enter the main room.

The living room is barren, the messy blankets still strung along the dented couch cushion. My eyes stay frozen towards the door, the bodies in the kitchen moving in my peripheral vision.

Matt is sitting at the counter. He’s staring at his phone with a dumb smile, his thumbs tapping profusely on the screen.

“Do you want some breakfast?”

The question from the older man catches me off guard. My mouth gapes open, my hands gripping tighter around myself as I blink quickly scanning the surroundings.

“It’s, um—it’s not what it looks—”

Before I can finish, he interrupts me.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, kid. I’m just askin’ if you want some breakfast,” he explains, laughing as he holds up a plate full of food. Bacon. My mouth waters just from the smell. When’s the last time I didn’t have protein pancakes or a smoothie for breakfast?

“I, um—I should get home, I’m sorry for intruding,” I huff, trying to take a couple more steps towards the door.

As my hand lands on the doorknob, I feel something bump into my ankles—Trevor. The dog nips at my sweatpants, tugging and pulling.

“I think he wants you to stay,” the older man remarks, laughing as he swings a spatula around.

He reminds me of Matt, but a bit more outgoing. I shake my head, going to awkwardly refuse the offer, but the older man sets the plate on the counter next to Matt, nudging for me to come over and sit. Trevor drops my clothes from his teeth as soon as I start walking back over.

“You can call me Jimmy by the way—or J-Dawg, I’m cool like that,” he winks, handing me a fork as I settle into the kitchen stool.

Matt shakes his head beside me. “No one calls him that except himself.”

“Oh, well—thanks,” I smile awkwardly, pushing my fork into the hashbrown sizzling on the plate. My eyes go wide, my words falling rushedly out of my lips, “Oh—I’m Y/n, sorry, I…” A blush covers my face as I realize just how quickly the words left my mouth.

“Lovely to meet ya,” he remarks, smiling with a cheery grin before turning around and moving the spatula in the pan. “Can’t remember the last time Chris had someone over,” he puffs, his words barely audible over the sound of food cooking.

“Yeah, I… it wasn’t really planned,” I explain, cringing as the words muffle from the food being stuffed in my mouth.

Matt shifts from beside me. I notice how his posture is hunched over, completely invested in his phone. “You good?” I ask, elbowing him lightly.

“Ugh, I just,” he looks over at me, turning his phone off and placing it down on the counter. “Mia said yes to a date. I wanna take her to the museum since she loves history and art, but I… what the fuck do I wear?”

I nearly choke on my food. As I cough repeatedly, I hear the clink of a glass, looking down to see Jimmy pushing a cup of water in front of me.

“You good, kid?” Jimmy asks, his eyes furrowed together as he watches me catch my breath.

I look between the two. My eyes focus on Matt, my face crinkled as I stare at him with concern. “You just curse in front of your dad?” I ask, my voice high in pitch.

A gut laughter makes me shrivel, my neck heating up as I maneuver my weight in the stool. Jimmy is practically crying, tears welling up in his eyes. “Oh kid, that’s what scared ya? I don’t care at all—or should I say, J-Dawg don’t spare any damns!” he remarks, pursing his lips as if he’s posing.

Spare a damn?

My lips flubber with a muffled giggle. I let out a sigh of relief as I take a long sip of water, grabbing onto a piece of bacon and starting to munch on it. I like his dad. Why couldn’t Chris be more like him? Or even more like Matt? Why did he have to be so… ugh.

“Anyhow,” Matt start, staring back at me as he nervously fiddles with his hands. “I don’t really know, like, what to wear. Do you think you could…I don’t know…help me?” he questions.

I nod my head affirmatively, covering my mouth as I struggle to eat the warm food. I should’ve just waited for it to cool down, but it looked too good. “Yeah, I—wait, when does Chris usually come out?” I ask.

Matt shrugs. “Usually after he takes a shower, why?”

The dull ache in my chest returns as I spare a quick stare down the empty hallway. “I, um—I should probably go before he sees me, he didn’t exactly want me to be here.”

Scratching my nails into my head, I try to chew quicker, wincing as I swallow too soon. I should be in a rush to get home for the sake of my mother—not for the sake of being caught by Chris in his kitchen, talking to his dad and brother.

“He looked like he wanted you here earlier,” Jimmy puffs.

My eyes go wide with his statement. I look over to Matt, watching as he shrugs. “Dad always gets Trevor in the morning. I told you this, remember?” he retorts.

Well, fuck. I almost forgot he had said that earlier. He saw me cuddled up with his son. How fucking awkward.

“Yeah, I thought I was delusional when I saw that Chris was actually asleep for once. Imagine how shocked I was when I saw someone else with him, ha!” Jimmy laughs, my anxiety easing as I analyze his comforting humor. He turns to face me, waving the spatula as he speaks, “You’re welcome anytime. If my dog likes ya, you can hang out whenever—he loves to be pet.”

I smile fondly. “Yeah, he does. I like him too,” I say, looking down to find the fluffy dog beneath my feet, curled in a tight ball and letting out soft snores.

“Will you help me with my outfit though? Please?” Matt asks, his eyes mimicking Trevor’s when the dog begs from pets with a small whine.

How could I say no?

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