#she's hurt but still like: damn he's hot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sceletaflores · 6 months ago

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Being a professional masseur for players and taking care of our boy art.

Hes just so sad and so pretty that you just giving head to make him feel better 😔

Plot twist: he falls in love with you because duh? Hot+sex=you being promoted pookie, you are now the donaldsons elite employes!!!!!!

Baby, show me where it hurts...

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you never intended on becoming a "celebrity" massage therapist. you just wanted to be a massage therapist, the whole celebrity thing just sort of happened, you blame cali for that. but the novelty of your job wore off long ago, you hardly blink at the clients on your table nowadays. that is until tashi duncan calls you and absolutely fucks everything up

— or: art donaldson needs a massage therapist…

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, oral (m!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), p in v, fingering (fem!receiving), angst? maybe? could this be considered angst?, slight age gap, no tashi duncan erasure because i don't stand for that, cheating but not really cause tashi knows, she always knows, she is an all seeing eye, and she kind of orchestrates it, SOOOOO much plot, like way too much i'm sorry, art being sad and tired, art also being kinda pathetic a little bit, unprofessional massages, no use of y/n.

word count: 10k+ (someone stop me....pls still read this lmao)

author's note: this ask was blessedly placed in my inbox and it was all i’ve thought about since. this is my first big fic since my mike schmidt days so hopefully i'm not rusty! i've seen this damn cursed hell movie ten times, so hopefully i do it justice. i'm also still struggling sooo much with art and tashi as characters so please bear with me if they aren't movie accurate i'm trying my best. okay. thank you. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

You don't get starstruck often, not anymore at least. The clients that find their way onto your table are just that in your eyes, clients. You don't see them as big time "celebrities”. Just men and women who need your professional help.

That being said, you almost dropped your phone the first time the Tashi Duncan called you.

It was a normal work day for you, spent buried in paperwork and training a new secretary. You're folding the steam room towels on your lunch break when your phone rings. No caller ID, you answer it anyways.

"Hello, you've reached Lush Retreat Med Spa," you rattle off into your phone, placing it between your ear and shoulder to continue folding. "How can we help you?"

"This is Tashi Duncan calling for Art Donaldson, we've heard great things about you and were hoping to schedule an appointment."

The towel drops from your hands, your mouth falling open in shock. You reach up to tightly grip your phone, not wanting to embarrass yourself by dropping your phone with Tashi fucking Duncan on the end of the line.

Of course you know who she is, but doesn't everyone? The tennis prodigy from Stanford who was on top of the world when a tragic knee injury stole everything from her in a single second. You absolutely idolized her when you were in high school and playing tennis competitively. You watched all the recorded matches you could get your hands on, wore your DUNCANATOR shirts to practice constantly, only bought the tennis rackets she used. You had her fucking posters plastered on the walls of your old bedroom for Christ's sake.

That was until you, ironically, shattered your wrist in a car accident and had to hang up the racket and pleated skirts forever. Just like her.

Now, Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson are California royalty. An unfairly beautiful couple living what seems to be the dream. You'd never kept up much with Art's career like you did Tashi's, but you follow them both on Instagram and you see his face on billboards all over the city almost daily so you can assume it was fruitful. It may help him that he's extremely easy on the eyes, or "super fucking hot!" in your coworkers words.

"Hello?" Her voice ringing out from the tiny speaker ripped you out of your thoughts and back into reality.

"Y-yes, sorry," you cringe internally at yourself, stuttering over your words like a loser. You force yourself to sound professional when you speak again, "We'd love to help you any way we can. Do you have a certain time and date in mind already?"

"We're not home right now, we were thinking next Thursday. Around four." There's no question mark on the end of her sentence, you know that she isn't asking you, she's telling you. You don't even bother to check the schedule before you're answering.

"We will be free that day. I'll go ahead and put you in our system." you rush over to the front desk computer and open the calendar, thankfully you are actually free for Thursday. "I'm assuming you know our location?" you ask as you type in the appointment details, ignoring how your fingers shake ever so slightly as you type Tashi into the slot.

"Actually," Tashi's voice has a different tone to it when she speaks again, it’s something you can’t quite place, your fingers slow down slightly as you listen, "we wanted to make this a home visit."

You stop typing completely, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at your computer screen. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Donaldson but we don't do at home appointments…per our policy." you reply meekly, almost surprised that you're denying her.

"Duncan, actually,” she corrects you nonchalantly, you don’t have time to unpack that before she’s speaking again. “We did read that on your website, but we'd hope you might make an exception. You wouldn't need to bring much. We have our own table." Her tone isn't harsh or impolite, just firm and certain, like she knows you'll give in to her.

You do.

"Well," you bite your lip as you wrestle internally with yourself, torn between what you want to do and what you should do. "Okay, we can do that for you."

"Great. I'll send you the address. See you then." She hangs up without saying goodbye.

You plant your phone next to you and stare at the filled out appointment slot taking up your computer screen, processing what just happened. You're going to Tashi Duncan's house. To give her hot pro-tennis player husband a massage. In their house.

"What the fuck."

SIX DAYS LATER...

The walk up to The Donaldson's huge mansion on a mountain has your stomach turning in on itself. All week you were a ball of nervous energy just floating around your office, trying to find anything to distract you from your upcoming appointment. Now that it's here, you feel you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

You hardly got any sleep last night, tossing and turning in your bed for hours before you gave up, barging into your building's gym to try and sweat your nerves out. When that didn't work you just retreated back to your apartment and got ready.

You try not to think about why it took you so long to get ready, longer than most work mornings. Taking more time in the shower, more time doing your hair, more time doing your makeup.

You even choose an outfit you'd hardly ever wear in front of regular clientele. A matching white polo set, a skirt in place of shorts. You tell yourself that you just want to look good, who wants to look like a mess in front of Tashi Duncan?

Your hands white-knuckle the steering wheel of your car on the drive over. You couldn’t even play any music, the noise in your head already too loud as it was, only cranking up the AC and silently following the crisp voice of your GPS reading off the directions Tashi sent you.

The closer you get to the door the more you want to turn and run down the insanely long driveway, get back in your car and haul ass home without ever looking back.

You don't because you're a professional, or at least that's what you keep telling yourself.

Your hand shakes as you ring their doorbell, hearing it echo back at you from the inside. You only wait a few seconds before the large door swings open and there she is.

Tashi Duncan is every bit as beautiful in person as she is splashed across the pages of magazines and blown up twenty feet on billboards. She looks so effortlessly classy in her Ralph Lauren sweater and flowy black dress pants.

Your name falls from her lips, and all the blood rushes to your ears. Her silky voice wraps around each syllable with an enticing heat that makes you weak in the knees. You feel sixteen years old all over again, standing at the woman who basically molded you into who you are today. It's a dizzying sensation, the rush of nostalgia and emotions flooding in like an avalanche. The memories you have locked away in your brain of the countless late night practices, the hundreds of hours spent on the court, the trophies and ribbons littering your moms basement collecting dust, the refusal to give up and pushing your body past its own limits because you wanted to be just like her. You wanted to be Tashi Duncan, and when you catch yourself nervously rubbing your thumb over the scar spanning your right wrist, you guess in some sick twisted way that you kind of are.

"So glad you could make it," she greets breezily, stepping to the side to let you in. “We were worried you’d get lost.”

The house is, of course, beautiful on the inside. Tall ceilings, big fireplace, a beautiful staircase leading to the second floor. There’s toys strewn messily along the living room floor, the TV mounted on the wall is paused on ESPN.

You hope you don’t look as crazy as you feel taking in the space, taking in the fact that Tashi is standing right in front of you.

“No, the directions were very helpful,” your voice only slightly wavers as you respond, you count that as a win, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Donalds–uh–Duncan.” You cringe at your fumble, but try to power through by extending Tashi your hand.

She watches you for a second, sharp eyes flicking over your body quickly like she’s inspecting you. It makes your cheeks feel warm as you struggle to not squirm underneath her gaze. Finally, she takes your hand in hers and gives it a firm shake. You ignore the way her touch makes your palm burn.

“Art should already be in the massage room, it’s in the pool house,” Tashi says, gesturing to the huge windows in the living room showing off a lavish underground pool with a smaller building situated next to it, “I have to take a phone call here in a few minutes so I trust you’ll find your way there.”

You nod slowly, adjusting the strap of your supply bag on your shoulder. Tashi doesn't even pause walking further into the house as she speaks to you, heels clicking with each step as she makes her way to the large staircase in the middle of the room. There’s still no question marks tacked on to the end of her sentences, just like over the phone.

“It’s just through that door, first room on the left. I told him to leave the door open for you.” She continues, reaching the stairs and making her way up slowly. She tosses her head over her shoulder to make eye contact with you again. “He’s been complaining about his shoulder acting up. The right one, it’s what needs the most attention. He serves with that arm, we need it at a hundred.” she fires off casually, like she’s recited this information before.

You go to speak but her phone ringing cuts you off, echoing off the house's crisp white walls. “Thank you for coming to see us, it was nice meeting you.” Tashi says politely, giving you one final once over before she’s answering her phone and disappearing up the stairs.

“It was nice meeting you too…” you trail off quietly, fully caught off guard by whatever the hell that was. Out of every single time you’d fantasized about what meeting Tashi Duncan would be like, none of them were quite like this. At least it’s over you figure, and you even managed to not make a complete fool of yourself.

You hold onto that tiny win as you walk through the living room doors and outside, making your way to the pool house like Tashi instructed. The entrance is unlocked as you step inside, thankfully you spot the cracked door a little ways in front of you.

The sound of your footsteps are loud as you make your way down the short hallway, tennis shoes making small thump sounds against the concrete floor. You pause for just a second outside the cracked door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open and stepping inside. The room is empty, the only things inside are some shelves lined with various essential oils and lotions, and an expensive looking massage table in the center. You muse over the fact that their table looks a little better than the ones in your own spa, no wonder they wanted a home visit.

The room is well lit as you walk around, dim in a way that promotes relaxation. The soft, ambient lighting bathes the room in a gentle, golden glow, complemented by the flicker of aromatic candles placed strategically around the space. You wonder who lit them, Tashi? Or maybe Art? You let out a small laugh at the idea of Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson fawning over the room before you showed up, setting up candles and mood lighting to make it feel nicer, less clinical.

You’re probably just reading too much into it. You always urge clients to ask for anything that will make them feel more comfortable, apparently Art just likes eucalyptus sage candles and mood lighting. It has nothing to do with you.

Your name being said from somewhere behind you rips you out of your own mind. You whirl around, and find yourself face to face with six time Grand Slam Champion, Tashi Duncan’s super hot husband, Art Donaldson. And he’s only wearing a fucking towel.

“Hello,” he greets with a kind smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “it’s nice to finally meet you, thank you so much for taking the time to come out here.”

Art is already worlds different from Tashi, or that’s what you’re inferring after spending less than five minutes with each of them. It’s still extremely apparent, Tashi has an almost overpowering presence to her, everything about her commands respect and she knows that. She uses that to her advantage, she likes it like that.

The man standing in front of you is nothing like that. The Art Donaldson in front of you doesn’t seem like some big shot tennis player with more impressive stats than you could wrap your head around. You’ve come to know that a few pro-sports guys like to swing their dicks around, bragging about their booming careers non-stop during a session. Yet everything about Art is unassuming as he stands in the doorway like he’s trying to make himself look smaller.

“Hi, Mr. Donaldson,” you’re not sure if it's appropriate to offer a man wearing a towel dangerously low on his hips your hand, you decide against it. “It’s no trouble really, I’m happy to help.”

“Please, call me Art.” The tone of his voice makes you want to shiver, smooth and warm like honey.

You try your best not to stare, but it’s so hard to ignore the toned expanse of Art’s body when it’s right there. He’s all broad shoulders, firm pecs, sculpted legs, with a cut Adonis belt. He’s like a marble statue, made in Michelangelo's perfect image.

Your eyes trail back up his body, lingering on his chest before rising up to his face. You’re mortified to see he’s staring right back at you, effectively catching you in the act. Your cheeks burn as you tear your gaze away, looking at anything and everything other than him. In your panic, you don’t notice the way his eyes rake over you in the same way.

“Okay, Art,” you say a little breathlessly, tightening your grip on the strap of your bag. “It’s nice to meet you. Mrs. Duncan let me know about your major problem areas, I’ll be sure to focus on them.” Involuntarily bringing up Tashi has your stomach clenching up in guilt, you just got done ogling her husband's body. You hope he takes the silent cue you're giving him to get on the damn table so you can start the massage and get the hell out of here.

Art nods silently, walking over to the table and moving to lie down on his stomach. You busy yourself with prepping your oils, taking them out of your bag and setting them on a small side table next to the massage bed uncapped for easy access. You can’t help but sneak glances at the rippling muscle of Art’s back as he shifts, his skin looks soft and is littered with freckles. You don’t miss the hiss he lets out when he lays his weight on his shoulder.

You usually don’t speak much during appointments, only engaging in conversation when your client initiates it, but you feel the need to fill the silence between you and Art. The quiet atmosphere makes everything seem far too intimate, and sure on some level it always is, but this feels different.

“How’d you hurt it? Your shoulder. If you don’t mind me asking.” you ask once he’s settled, placing your fingertips to the middle of his right shoulder, feeling around for any tension. Art tenses slightly at your touch, taking a sharp breath. You guess you should have warned him, you open your mouth to apologize but he lets out a small breath and relaxes onto the table again.

Art sighs, his voice tinged with weariness. "It was, uh, during a match. I overextended trying to return a serve. Haven't been able to move it properly since."

You nod, hands starting to move in slow, deliberate circles across the muscle. “That sounds about right. Most people don’t realize how brutal tennis is to the body, injuries are common,” you pointedly try to ignore the flashbacks of your wrist failing to swing a racket properly after you healed from your accident, flashbacks of watching as the bone pierced through your skin. “Sounds like you might need to take it easy for a while.” you continue, trying to keep the conversation light.

Art chuckled, though it was devoid of real humor. "Yeah, I’ve been playing a lot lately. Guess I pushed myself too hard." He winces slightly as you work on a particularly tight knot, shoulder tensing under your hands.

You pause, your hands stilling momentarily as you catch the underlying tension in Art's voice. "The season’s almost over, maybe it's time to give yourself a break, take some time to rest and recuperate." you remark softly, your tone gentle yet concerned.

Art's gaze flickers to yours, a flicker of vulnerability shining through. "I wish I could," he admits, his voice heavy, "But it's hard to step away, especially when it feels like it's all I have that’s still keeping everything together."

Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his words. He’s completely silent afterwards, you wonder if he’s regretting telling you something like that, like maybe it just fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. Without a word, you continue to knead away the tension in his muscles, offering a silent gesture of support.

As you continue to work, hands skillfully moving over Art’s shoulder, you can’t help but notice the weariness in Art's demeanor. His presence feels heavy, almost broken, as if the physical pain was just a small part of what he was carrying. You feel a pang of sympathy for him. You can feel the weight of struggles pressing down on him, the way his shoulders sag slightly even under your careful touch.

“I can feel the tension here," you say gently, applying a little more pressure, "Just try to relax.”

With each knead and press, you remind yourself of your role. You’re here to help him heal, and that was all that mattered. But as your hands move over his warm skin, you can’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what you had anticipated, something that made your heart race with both excitement and anxiety. You were so worried about meeting Tashi you completely forgot about Art. It’s a different story now as your hands explore the smooth planes of his back to the steady sound of his breathing.

"You're really good at this," Art says after a while, his voice a bit lighter.

You smile, a genuine one, the first real smile you’ve had since you got here. “Thanks. I’d hope so after all this time.”

Art lets out a small chuckle muffled by the table, it makes your stomach flutter. “How did you get into this? Massage therapy seems interesting.”

You laugh but it’s a bitter sound, moving your hands down to focus lower on Art’s shoulder. You try not to think about your tennis career, even after all this time you struggle with the memories despite all the good it brought you. “That’s a long story.” you mutter under your breath, even to your own ears you sound resentful.

“I’ve got time.” It’s a simple reply, but it’s so honest. Like Art’s genuinely interested in you, in getting to know you. It makes you feel dizzy.

“I, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth, working your hands harder over Art’s back. “I actually used to play tennis. When I was in high school.”

Art makes an interested noise, shifting under your hands as he moves his head to lay on the side of the table so he could look up at you. “No shit?” he looks more shocked than anything.

You nod, humming in confirmation as you finally move onto his other shoulder. “Yup, I was pretty serious about it back then, until I got injured.” You don’t meet Art’s gaze, but you can see how his face falls in your peripheral vision. You kind of want to laugh at how ironic this moment is, you wonder if Art’s thinking about Tashi’s knee. You know he was at the match, you’ve seen the blurry footage of Tashi Duncan’s fall from grace, watched Art vault over the net to get to her.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it.

“It’s okay, wasn't like it was my fault or anything,” you say, finally meeting his eyes with a rueful smile and raising your right wrist to show him your scar. “I got hit by a drunk driver coming home late from practice one night. Nasty fracture, bone went straight through.” You hope your voice is coming out as nonchalant as you’re trying to make it sound.

Art's eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in your scar, a mixture of shock and sympathy evident on his face. "Wow, that's...terrible," he murmurs, his voice tinged with compassion.

You shrug, the memories still vivid despite the passage of time. "It was tough, it was awful actually. All the physical therapy in the world couldn’t get a racket back in my hand,” you confess softly, fingers tracing the outline of the scar absentmindedly again. “But it also forced me to reevaluate things, in a way. It made me realize that life doesn't always go according to plan.” You see Tashi’s knee buckling in your mind's eye. “When I finally realized that I could take all the hate and all the anger I was feeling and channel it into something good, something like massage therapy, I never looked back."

You immediately regret over-sharing, feeling silly telling Art your sob story, but when you meet his eye again, he has an odd look on his face. His expression is soft as he looks up at you through long lashes, understanding and empathy swimming in the blue of his eyes.

"Well, silver linings, huh?" he says after a few seconds, there’s traces of a smile playing on his lips. You let out a small laugh, nodding your head slightly.

"Yeah," you agree, a small smile on your lips. "Silver linings."

As the conversation fades into a comfortable silence, you and Art find yourselves locked in a silent exchange, your eyes meeting and holding a depth of something you can’t quite pick up on. In that moment, the world around you seems to blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in a shared moment of vulnerability. There's a subtle shift in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has formed between you, as if you've uncovered a piece of each other.

The shrill ringing of your phone’s alarm pierces through the moment, both you and Art jump at the sudden sound. It’s like a cold bucket of water pouring over your head, washing away whatever just happened between the two of you. The session’s over, you’re done.

“Okay,” you say a little too loudly, taking your hands off Art's back like his skin could burn you any second. “Looks like we’re all done.” You try to smile but it feels fake, forced, so you turn your back to Art and start capping your oils to shove them back in your bag.

Art’s voice breaks the silence as you pack up, sounding a little less confident than it did earlier. “Uh, my neck has been bothering me too, recently,” he says offhandedly as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “I think I may have slept on it wrong.”

You stop what you’re doing, turning to face Art again, silently cursing him for not just letting you leave. “Do you want me to take a look before I go?” You pray he says no. You should know it won’t be that easy, not with your shit luck.

“If you don’t mind?” His tone is so hopeful and his eyes are so big that your feet are walking towards him before your mind can catch up.

“Not at all,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. You step closer, practically between his slightly spread legs, feeling the warmth of his skin even before you touch him. Your fingers brush against his neck, and he shivers slightly, the muscles tight and knotted beneath your touch.

"Just relax," you murmur, trying to maintain any shred of professional demeanor. As you work, you can't help but notice the way his breath hitches, the tension in his body melting away under your skilled hands. The room feels smaller, the air heavier with each passing second.

He closes his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "That feels amazing," he whispers, and you swallow hard, trying to focus solely on the task at hand. As you work, the intimacy of the moment isn't lost on you, and you can't help but wonder if he feels it too.

Minutes tick by like hours as you work the tense muscle of Art’s neck. You're acutely aware of every sigh, every shift in his body, every subtle reaction to your touch. You finally pull away when you think it’s been enough time, eager to get out of this damn house before you do something you’ll regret.

You didn’t notice how close you really were to Art until you pulled back only to be met with his face mere inches away from yours. Startled by the sudden proximity, you freeze, caught off guard by the intensity of Art's gaze. His eyes, dark and searching, seem to hold a silent question, a silent invitation.

Now, Art’s body is one thing, it’s objectively perfect. He’s a professional athlete, of course it’s perfect. It has to be perfect. It’s his damn face that gets you.

He’s beautiful, beyond beautiful. He looks like he should be splayed across canvas hanging in the Louvre. The dim lighting in the room illuminates his face beautifully, his golden hair haloing around his head makes him look ethereal. Each of his features look as if they were handcrafted by a master sculptor, each contour and line a testament to perfection. His chiseled jawline speaks of strength and determination, while his lips, soft and inviting, seem to beckon you closer with every breath. His eyes are deep pools of ocean blue, though this close you can see a small splash of brown in his left eye you didn’t notice before, swirling with emotions that stir something deep within you.

Something more shocking than Art’s beauty, is how fucking tired he looks. Lines of exhaustion are etched along his face, subtle but undeniable. The weariness in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent plea for respite from the relentless demands of tennis. And yet, even amidst the exhaustion, there's a flicker of longing. He’s staring at you like he needs you, eyes wide and yearning. His chest rising and failing a little more harshly than it did before, each exhale coming out ragged and sharp.

“Art…” you whisper, heart threatening to beat out of your chest. He’s so warm, the heat emitting off of him makes you want to lean into it. You want to crawl on top of his powerful thighs and bury your face in his chest and never leave. Your hands flex where they’re draped over Art’s neck.

It happens in slow motion, Art’s hand trails up the skin of your thigh as your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted. You’re rearing back with a sharp breath, dropping your hands from his neck and taking a couple steps back.

“It was really nice to- uh to meet you, Art.” you say frantically, swinging your bag firmly over your shoulder and rushing to the door. Art’s still sitting on the table, silently watching you panic. He doesn’t try to stop you. “I hope your shoulder feels better,” is all you say before bursting out the door and speed walking out of the pool house.

Your heart's racing as you walk through the backyard, hands shaking even through the death grip you have on the strap of your bag. What the hell was that? What the hell was that? Did Art Donaldson just make a pass at you? You must be imagining things.

The thought rattles around in your mind, refusing to be dismissed. His words, his tone—they seemed to linger in the air, haunting you with their implications. The way he touched you, like he couldn’t help himself. But no, it couldn't be. He was married to Tashi, and besides, he was just being polite, right? You try to convince yourself of that as you make your way back to the house.

As you walk inside, still slightly shaken up, Tashi’s the first thing you see. She’s sitting in the living room, laptop open on the coffee table in front of her.

“Hey,” she says, sitting up straighter on the coach, “how was it?”

You swallow, urging yourself to calm down. “It was great, he should be seeing some improvement over the next few days.”

Tashi nods her head, seemingly pleased though it doesn’t show on her face. “Could this be a weekly thing, these appointments. He could really use them.”

No question marks. Motherfucker.

You flounder, stomach dropping. “Weekly? As in every Thursday?”

Tashi’s brow raises, eyes looking over you inquisitively. “Yes, preferably all home visits.”She stands from the couch, taking a couple steps towards you. “We read on your website you take permanent clients, is that not the case anymore.”

You shake your head, eyes wide as they follow her while she walks. “N-no, Mrs. Duncan we do. We could pencil you in if you’re willing to pay monthly for the time slot. Would you like to talk to some of my other employees to work out a rotating schedule?”

Tashi stops a few feet away from you, hands in her pockets. “Actually, we were hoping you’d be the one coming down. The only one.” You blink, her words slam over you like a ton of bricks. Just you, in a room with a half-naked Art. Every single Thursday. That can’t happen, not after what just went down between the two of you.

You can practically hear the warning bells blaring in your mind, urging you to refuse, to put an end to this before it spirals out of control. Yet, there's another voice, quieter but no less insistent, whispering seductive promises of what could be if you were to stay.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you grapple with the conflicting desires warring within you. Tashi's expectant gaze weighs heavily on you, waiting for your response, and you know that whatever decision you make will irrevocably alter the course of things between you and Art. With a shaky breath, you steel yourself, the weight of your choice settling like a stone in your stomach.

"I...I'll do it," you finally say, the words leaving your lips before you can stop them. "I'll make sure to pencil you in for weekly sessions, Mrs. Duncan."

Tashi's lips curve up slightly, satisfied, but beneath the surface you can sense the tension thrumming through the air. You've made your choice, for better or for worse, and now you can only hope that it won't lead to the downfall of everything you've worked so hard to build.

“Wonderful,” she says, gesturing for you to follow her to the front door. You trail behind her like a loyal pet, silently allowing her to drag you wherever she pleases. “Thank you again for coming out, and please,” she pauses with her hand on the doorknob, turning to meet your eye, “call me Tashi.”

"Thank you, Tashi," you murmur softly, the weight of her name feeling foreign on your tongue when you’re actually saying it to her for the first time. "I'll make sure to arrange everything at the office."

Tashi's smile widens, though there's a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "I look forward to seeing you, then," she says, her tone laced with a hint of anticipation. "And please, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to reach out."

With a final nod, Tashi opens the front door, the outside world beckoning beyond its threshold. You take a hesitant step forward, the weight of your decision pressing down on your shoulders like a heavy burden. As you step out into the cool evening air, you can't shake the feeling that you've just crossed a line from which there may be no turning back. But for now, all you can do is steel your nerves and hope that you haven't made a huge mistake.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Your sessions with Art continue on. The guilt settling deep in your stomach each time you set foot in the Donaldson/Duncan house also continues. It worsens each time the two of you are alone in that damned massage room. Technically you’ve done nothing wrong, but you know deep in the back of your mind that what you’re doing isn’t normal. Each meeting is a strange mixture of tension and familiarity. When you arrive, Tashi always greets you warmly, her trust in you unwavering. It feels like a dagger each time, twisting deeper and deeper into your conscience.

Neither of you talk about it, what happened during your session, and Art doesn’t treat you any differently. He still goes out of his way to make polite conversation, asking you about your life, about your business, he even brings up old anecdotes you told him offhandedly. He doesn’t talk about tennis, and he has to know you can keep up in conversation with it since you told him about your history with it, you just assume he doesn’t want to.

That makes sense, you always think back to the first time he met you. How he brushed off any conversation about his career, how his demeanor changed when he spoke about it. How drained he looked. There was a sadness in his eyes, a weight he carried that seemed to go beyond just a few standard aches and pains. You remember how it struck you then, and it strikes you still, each time you see him.

His shoulder is getting better, you can tell. He can lay on it, or raise it above his head, without wincing. That makes your heart swell, knowing that despite how weird and kind of fucked up everything is, he’s healing.

The familiar sound of your timer ringing pulls you out of your thoughts. You’re shocked at how fast this appointment flew by, but you could tell as soon as you walked into the massage room to find Art already sitting on the table waiting for you, that something about this session feels different. It’s silly to call it “sensing a bad vibe”, but that’s exactly what you felt entering the room's threshold.

Art didn’t speak much as you worked, just laying on the table silently after saying hello and asking you about your week. The silence is definitely odd, Art’s not a chatterbox by any means, but he usually keeps some form of conversation flowing. After a while, you start to think it might be something you did, like maybe he’s mad at you. It sounds so stupid in your head, like you’re some poor high school girl getting hung up over a fucking guy giving you the silent treatment.

The only thing more stupid than that is how much it’s actually affecting you. Art has you over analyzing everything you’ve said or done over the last couple visits, you dread that maybe he just came to his senses after all this time. That he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and remembered he has a beautiful wife, and that he doesn’t really want you.

“Alright,” you say softly, stepping away from the table, “All done.” As you turn off the timer and gather your thoughts, you can't shake the feeling that something is off. You force yourself to bury it, Art doesn’t owe you an explanation, he doesn’t owe you anything. You aren’t his.

You glance over at him as he slowly sits up, his expression unreadable. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. You offer a small smile in return, trying to squash all the ugly feelings mixing in your stomach. You turn to busy yourself with packing up, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu.

Art’s voice cuts through the silence, sounding weary. “Are we still pretending it didn’t happen?”

It catches you off guard, making you drop the bottle in your hands back onto the table loudly. Your heart races as you turn back to face him, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, demanding a response you’re not sure you’re ready to give.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I...I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I was hoping we could just…forget about it.”

Art’s eyes search yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. “I don’t think I can,” he confesses, his voice tinged with sadness.

The same feelings from that day rush back in your mind, flooding all your senses. It's as if time folds in on itself, bringing you right back to that moment where everything changed. You feel panic clawing its way up your body, fight or flight response waging a war inside of you.

You chose flight, shoving the last bottle in your bag and making a break for the door. Ready to run just like you did back then, run and come back next week with your tail between your legs desperately trying to forget that this ever happened, again. Art’s voice stops you just as you have your hand on the doorknob.

“Please…” he whispers, he sounds so broken, so vulnerable. “Please, don’t run.”

You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the repressed feelings, or your shitty back bone, but whatever it is makes you pause, hand falling off the doorknob to lay limp at your side. You turn back to face him, the raw need in his eyes mirrored by your own emotions. It tugs at your heart, making it impossible to leave. You feel a surge of guilt and hesitation, but the longing in his gaze holds you captive. Slowly, you make your way towards him, taking small slow steps like you could still leave at any minute, but you know you won’t.

You walk until you’re crowding him, standing between his spread legs just like you did all those sessions ago. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, like he thought you’d turn around and slam the door on him instead. Which is what you should do, you should walk out that door right now and never step foot in their house again.

Art whispers your name, his voice a soft caress that sends sparks zapping down your spine. You're close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face, warm and intimate. You inhale, like you’re trying to absorb his words, his essence, his everything.

His hand takes yours, bringing it up to his chest. He presses it firmly against his pec, right on top of his heart. You can feel the rapid, uneven thumping beneath your palm. His thumb caresses your wrist gently, making goosebumps pebble over your skin.

It’s easy to get lost in Art’s eyes, so you’re shocked to notice something that very quickly grabs your attention. Art’s towel is tented obscenely, hard cock straining against the thick material. You swallow roughly at the sight, feeling the need to touch, to take, to help.

Your knees hit the floor before you fully realize the entire gravity of what you’re doing. You don’t care about any of that anyway, not right now.

Right now Art Donaldson is swiping his thumb across the scar on your wrist with his big sparkly eyes desperately looking into yours, unashamedly begging for you to touch him.

Who are you to deny him?

Your hands find the knot of his towel and yank it roughly, ripping it off Art's hips and tossing it aside. His hard cock springs out, slapping up against his stomach enticingly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, pleased to see he’s perfect all over.

Art’s cock is long, and thick. He’s big, but in an exciting way, not in an intimidating way. He’s already steadily drooling pre-cum from his soft pink tip, already so hard and you haven’t even touched him yet. You reach up, tracing your finger along the length of him lightly. Art inhales, his eyes fluttering closed as you touch him for the first time. The anticipation in the room is palpable, a heady mix of desire and need that seems to swirl around you both.

You circle your hand around the base of his cock, stroking up and up until your hand bumps into the head, where you start to rub your thumb back and forth gently, spreading the wetness from his pre-cum before sliding your hand back down. Slowly, you lean in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth, savoring the taste of him as he groans deeply, hands gripping the massage table tightly.

“Shit,” he grits out, casting his gaze to the ceiling, chest already heaving raggedly.

You slide the warmth of your mouth down the shaft of his cock, moaning at the heady taste of him, skin soft and velvety on your tongue.

“Fuck, your mouth…” Art whispers above you, his words trailing off into a string of breathy moans. You hum in response, working his cock faster to draw out more of those noises. Hollowing your cheeks, you sink down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slippery slurping sounds. Art’s hand lets go of the table, coming up to cup your cheek in a move way too intimate for what the two of you are doing.

You chance a look up, and your heart skips several beats at what you see. Art’s already staring down at you, his face twisted up in pleasure. His pale cheeks are flushed, brows drawn together tightly, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. All that is enough to make you feel ten feet tall, but that’s not what makes you pause.

It’s his eyes, the way Art’s looking at you.

The look in his eyes is…worshipful. Reverent. Like you’re a celestial being, a divine grace walking among mortals. Not some girl on her knees for a married man in his house’s private fucking massage room.

Yet the longer you hold his gaze, while still working your mouth over his hard cock, you feel something strange stirring inside you. Art’s eyes holding such a longing reverence so intense, it was starting to elevate you to a pedestal of adoration. Of devotion.

Right now Art’s like the sun, burning so brightly you feel you need to look away before he consumes you, but you don’t.

“Please,” Art begs desperately, voice so soft you barely even hear it. There’s tears welling in his eyes, his red rimmed and so so tired looking eyes. It breaks your heart, how could such a wonderful man be reduced to this?

You pull off Art’s cock, hand still pumping firmly over him. He whines at the loss of your mouth, hips bucking up to chase after the warm heat. His tip bumps over your lips as he moves, trailing a thin line of pre-cum across them.

Without breaking eye contact, you speak.

“You’re so good, Art.”

It’s those four words whispered against the tip of Art's leaking cock that has him coming with a hitched breath and a soft cry. A few bursts of his warm come land over your parted lips before you take the head of his cock back in your mouth to greedily swallow down the rest.

"Thank you, fuck, thank you...!" Art grates out as his body trembles above you, hand squeezing yours so hard it borders on painful. You know you’re never coming back from this, but you still squeeze back as hard as you can all the same.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Maybe this is just your life now, fucking the husband of the woman you worshiped like a God for years on end. It’s like you can’t stop, like you’re an addict or something. No matter how disgusting and shameful you feel every time you get home from Art’s appointments, you can’t help but give into him. It’s a twisted dance, a cycle of pleasure and regret that you can’t seem to break. One look into his sad, kicked puppy eyes and you crack. You’ve convinced yourself it's just you reveling in the feeling of being truly wanted for the first time. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. It’s the way he makes you feel alive, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

Art wants you. He needs you. He’s made that more than clear every single visit since you dropped down on your knees for him. The guilt gnaws at you, a constant reminder that you can't escape. Yet, every time you see him, every time he reaches out to you with that desperate need in his eyes, you find yourself powerless to resist.

You’ve never kissed, not on the lips. Art’s certainly tried, lips seeking yours out as your oiled up fist slips up and down his cock, as you sit on his lap and grind against him until he’s dirtying his towel. You just turn your head every time, letting him trail kisses along your jaw and neck instead somehow feels less real. Kissing Art will make it feel real, you know it will. So you don’t.

Funnily enough, you think things are going well. Maybe even as well as getting a married man off every Thursday can go. You can see a change in Art, in his behavior and the way he holds himself. He smiles more, he laughs more, it’s like he’s giving more of himself to you each time you meet with him. It’s exhilarating, the way your presence has this effect on him, almost as if you’re breathing new life into him.

Art’s newfound lightness is infectious. You find yourself looking forward to Thursdays with an anticipation that borders on impatience. The way he looks at you, the tender touches that linger just a bit longer, the conversations that flow more freely–it all feels like a dream you’re afraid to wake up from.

You should have known it was too good to be true, that this little world you created in your head was just the calm before the storm.

Everything about this session was normal to start. It’s a little less intense since Art’s shoulder is doing better, now you have free reign over the rest of his body. Greedy hands free to glide over the planes and planes of muscle you’ve become familiar with.

As you work on his lower back, your hands moving in practiced, soothing motions, you notice a subtle rigidity in his muscles. “Everything alright?” you ask, keeping your tone light.

Art hesitates before answering. “Yeah, just…a lot on my mind.”

You frown, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Art stays quiet, still laying silently on the table face down. You stare at the back of his head, like if you stare hard enough you’ll be able to tell what he’s thinking. Taking his silence as not wanting to talk, you continue on. You don’t want to pressure him to confide with you, not when he already has a wife for that.

As your hands continue to move over Art's tense shoulders, he lets out a deep sigh, breaking the silence. "I need you,” he whispers softly, his voice filled with an unexpected vulnerability. He shifts on the table, leaning up to look you in the eye; his own eyes are watery, lashes clumped together with unshed tears. “It's not just the massages. I need you in my life, no more of this half-assed bullshit. I need all of you.”

You feel your whole world turn upside down in a single second, the distinct feeling of your heart lurching out of your chest and your stomach dropping to your feet. It’s like the walls of the room start moving in on you, caging you in. It makes your chest feel tight, breath coming out in short jagged rasps. Panic grips you, and you violently rip your hands off Art’s body, stumbling back from the massage table.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't," you stammer, voice choked with emotion, as you turn to flee from the room, not even bothering to grab your stuff. But before you could escape, Art was right behind you, reaching out to catch your wrist, his grip gentle yet firm. "Please don't go, please," he begs, his eyes pleading with you to stay and talk. You wrench your hand free and run out of the room.

You think you hear Art calling out your name through all the static rushing through your ears, but you’re not sure, and you don’t look back to check. Your feet pound against the tile as you run out of the pool house feeling like you’re about to throw up, or pass out. Art’s confession is the only thing running through your mind. The only thing that’s still clear through your dizzying panic.

You finally start to breathe again when you burst into the house, leaning back against the cool glass of the door to try and relax before you start to spiral. The silence inside is almost oppressive, the only sound the rapid thudding of your heart in your ears. You close your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, to find some semblance of control.

Your name being said grabs your attention, and you open your eyes to find Tashi at the top of the stairs.

“Is everything okay? I heard the door slam.” Her expression is a mix of concern and confusion as she takes a few steps down. You push yourself off the door, you need to leave as soon as possible, before Tashi can reach you and coerce you into staying.

“Everything's fine!” Your voice sounds shaky despite your best efforts to calm yourself, you’re basically speed walking to the door. “I just, I got a phone call, and I need to leave. Right now. I’m so sorry.”

You don’t even wait for her to reply before you’re yanking the door open and rushing outside. You hope to God that she doesn’t follow you outside. She doesn’t.

You walk, arms wrapped around yourself tightly in a feeble attempt to stop shaking. There are tears burning your eyes and making everything in front of you blurry. The wind whips your hair around your face, stinging your cheeks as you walk further away from the house.

Each step feels heavier, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to make sense of the storm inside you. The chaotic weather seems to mock your turmoil, perfectly matching the chaos you feel. You struggle to piece together what just happened, the intensity of Art’s words echoing in your mind.

“I need you.”

His voice had been so raw, so vulnerable, and it scared you. You weren’t ready for that kind of emotion, that kind of responsibility, that kind of guilt. The weight of it had sent you running, and now you’re left grappling with the aftermath.

Fuck.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX HOURS LATER…

The drive home was a blur. Rain and wind beating against the windshield nearly the whole time. You’d laugh at how ironic it was, like God’s punishing you with shitty weather, but you’re too busy fighting tears to find the humor in it.

The dread didn’t set in until you got home, stumbling through the front door on shaky legs until you reached your kitchen where you promptly emptied everything in your stomach into your trash. After you force yourself into the shower to wash the rain, and guilt, off of your skin. You scrub yourself raw, skin pink and sensitive to the touch, like that will somehow erase all that you’ve done.

When you finally step out, the bathroom mirror is fogged, a ghostly reflection staring back at you through the mist. You avoid its gaze, wrapping yourself in a towel and padding through your room to collapse onto your bed. The silence of the house presses in on you, letting your thoughts consume you.

Art’s words play on a loop inside your head, the look on his face burned to the forefront of your mind. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, rocking you with its intensity. Running away had seemed like the only option at the time, a knee-jerk reaction to the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to engulf you.

You know you didn’t run from Art because you don’t want him, you ran because there’s nothing you want more. In the aftermath, running felt less like a choice and more like an instinctual response to the storm of emotions threatening to consume you whole since the first day you met him. Every step away from Art was a battle against the gravitational pull of your desires, a struggle against the overwhelming urge to surrender to what you both shared.

The truth is crystal clear: you didn't run from Art because you're devoid of feelings for him. You ran precisely because your heart beats in synchrony with his, because the depth of your longing for him is as boundless as the universe itself.

Your phone pings from the dresser, you ignore it. A second later, it pings again, and again, and again. You furrow your brows, glaring at your nightstand until you reach over and pick up your phone. It’s an unknown number, but you know who it is.

UNKNOWN NUMBER I need to see you. Please, I can send a car. It's Art. Tashi isn’t home tonight.

Maybe you’re the worst person in the world, but all the fight leaves your body the second you read Art’s texts. You need to see him as much as he needs to see you. Your fingers type out a response before you can think twice.

Art okay.

You send him your address, jumping out of bed to throw on the first things you see. A black SUV was waiting for you as soon as you got downstairs, just as promised. You climbed in after getting confirmation from the driver, and sat in the backseat quietly as you went down the familiar streets.

As the house comes into view, you can see the front door’s light is still on, waiting for you. You barely wait for the car to stop before you’re opening the car door and stepping outside. The rain immediately drenches you, seeping through your thin sleep clothes. You take two steps before the front door swings open and Art comes rushing out into the rain. He’s only wearing sleep pants, his bare feet smack wetly on the concrete as he runs to you.

Art stops short of you, hesitating, like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. You want him to touch you so bad you’re scared it might kill you. The air between you feels charged, every drop of rain a tiny spark. Finally, Art reaches out, his hand trembling as he brushes a soaked strand of hair from your face. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you step closer, collapsing into his arms. The rain continues to fall around you, but at this moment, it’s just the two of you.

"Art," you breathe, your voice trembling. "What are we doing?"

He gazes into your eyes, the raw emotion in his expression mirroring your own. "I don't know," he admits, his hands gently sliding down to your shoulders. "But I can't let you go. Not now." His words hang between you, a fragile thread of honesty that binds you together. You can feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as his words sink in. The honesty in his gaze, the desperation in his touch—it all overwhelms you, leaving you breathless. The only thing you can think of, the only thing that feels right, is kissing him. So you do.

You lean closer, your heart pounding in your chest, and gently cup his face in your hands. His eyes widen for a moment, a flicker of surprise mingling with the intensity of his emotions. Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, your lips meet his.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative and sweet, a question and an answer all at once. His lips are cold and slightly trembling, matching the fluttering in your chest. You can taste the salt of your tears mingling with the sweetness of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours.

Gradually, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and fervent, a silent expression of everything words can’t convey. Art’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his fingers threading through your hair. The heat between you intensifies, both your breath coming faster, mingling as the kiss grows hungrier.

Art’s heartbeat echoes against your chest, you can feel his grip on you getting tighter like he's scared of letting you go. Your hands slide down to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles as you press closer, your bodies molding together. His tongue flicks against your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them eagerly, welcoming him in. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of desperation and passion that makes your head spin. A soft moan escapes your lips, and he responds with a low growl, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Art,” you say in between kisses, panting into his slick, open mouth. “I need you to fuck me.”

You can feel Art’s whole body shiver, groaning unabashedly into your mouth like he’s dying for it. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to finally admit that.”

The two of you tear through the house, all tangled limbs and bumbling steps, you trail water all over the floor. Somewhere in the chaos you drop your phone and keys on the large kitchen island. Art refuses to let go of you to walk properly, blindly leading the way so he can keep kissing you breathless.

Art only stops kissing you when you finally make it to his bedroom, pulling away to wrestle the now soaked sleep pants off his legs. You follow by example and peel your shirt off, skin damp and cold but you could care less, not when Art’s pants are pooling at his ankles and he’s throwing his boxers carelessly over his shoulder.

“God,” he breathes out, shaking his head like he can’t believe you're giving him this, “You’re so beautiful.”

The raw honesty in his tone has your cheeks burning, you cast your gaze to the floor instinctually, feeling too overwhelmed by his charged gaze raking over you. You can hear his feet softly padding against the floor, making his way closer. You watch his feet come to a complete stop in front of you, he takes a hold of your chin gently forcing you to look up at him.

His eyes, intense and unwavering, lock onto yours. “You’re fucking perfect.”

With a gentle push, Art lowers you onto the bed, his weight a comforting presence above you. He tilts your head back and kisses you breathless, one big hand sliding lower and lower on your stomach till he’s got his hand down the front of your shorts, he groans when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. You’d almost forgotten you hadn’t worn any underwear. His hand so close to your aching center has your breath hitching as you kiss, hips bucking up towards his palm.

You reach for his cock, an angry shade red and leaking steadily, but he catches your wrist before you can touch. You meet his eyes confused, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s been about me the whole time, baby. Let me fix that,” he whispers.

You nod your head wordlessly. You wouldn’t dream of denying him, not right now. He smiles, pecking your lips again before he starts to kiss his way downwards. He explores your body with his mouth with such care it has you shaking under every brush his lips. He kisses all down your jaw and neck, taking extra time on your chest to map out the skin of your breasts with his tongue. He circles your right nipple with the tip of his tongue a few times over before he takes it in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth gently. It has your back arching into his mouth, hands scrambling for a purchase on the silk sheets. One long finger slides around your entrance and dips inside, shallow, then deeper, stretching you slowly, carefully, while his other hand rubs your clit with light, gentle touches. “Is this good?” Art asks quietly, voice tinged slightly with insecurity, like you’re not completely unraveling because of him.

“God yes! Yes – fuck! – Art,” you mewl loudly, hips grinding down roughly onto his finger, desperate to take in more of him. You can feel him smile against your skin, pulling off to blow cool air over your hard nipple and repeating it all over again on your left. His finger slides through the wetness collecting in your hole, spreading it to your throbbing clit. He finally sinks a single finger into the warm, tight, heat of your cunt.

Art pulls away from your chest to kiss his way down your stomach, sliding lower and lower on the huge king size mattress, he doesn’t stop the rhythm of his fingers as he peels your shorts down your legs, tossing them aside. A guttural groan leaves his lips at the sight of your slick cunt parting over his fingers, taking them so well. He pitches forward like he can’t help himself, like his lips are magnetically drawn to your cunt, and presses a small kiss to your clit.

“Fuck!” You squeal and writhe as his finger fucks in and out of you, hands tangling in his messy hair, cheeks flushing at the sound of your leaking cunt squelching against his wrist with each thrust. Art's lips tighten over your clit, sucking for a brief second before he moves back to start laving his tongue over your cunt in careful, slightly clumsy, strokes. The sounds he's making, almost filthy slurping, accompanied by little moans now and then send small vibrations through you that shock your system, making you fist his hair even tighter.

Art’s lewd noises fill the air, mixing with your own moans to fill the room. His eyes stay closed for the most part, fluttering open every couple seconds to watch you fall apart. Your thighs shake uncontrollably around his head when you make eye contact, threatening to clamp around his ears and keep him there.

A sob tears from your throat when he adds another finger, then he curls them inside you and pulls back and god, shit, shit, fuck, fuck me, god, Art, please fuck me.

“Fuck me Art please fuck me I need it so bad please-” you ramble nonsensically, pulling at Art’s hair desperately. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, but you don’t want to come on his tongue, or on his fingers, you want to come with him inside you.

Art lets you drag him up, the bottom half of his face is slick and shiny, drenched in your wetness. He makes his way up your body quickly, hands gripping tightly to your hips, not hesitating to kiss you even as your juices decorate his lips. You kiss back desperately, tasting yourself on his tongue. The head of his cock bumping against your twitching, empty hole has you whining.

“Fuck me, Art,” you breath hotly, hips canting up needily. “No condom, I’m on the pill. I want you to come inside me. Please, I need it.”

Slowly, he starts to sink in. Feeding you inch by inch torturously slow. He kisses you the whole time, greedily swallowing the moans flowing out of your mouth as he stretches your cunt on his thick cock. You grab at his shoulders like a lifeline, kissing back with everything you have.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he says through gritted teeth, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. “So fucking perfect for me, such a perfect pussy for my cock.”

“Move.” Is all you can manage to squeak out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders.

Art starts to move, thrusts slow and gentle, like he’s easing you into it. You’re grateful for it, you’ve never taken anyone as big as him. Slowly, his thrusts speed up, cut hips smacking against the fat of your ass a little rougher than before. You revel in it, pushing your ass back greedily for more more more. From this angle, the thick head of his cock drags against your g-spot perfectly every time he plunges back into your dripping cunt.

“Shit! Right there, don’t stop,” you slur breathlessly, feeling the familiar warmth swirling through your stomach as he fucks you.

“I love you.” Art confesses against your lips, his breath hot and erratic. His sweaty forehead pressed to yours as he pounds in and out of you, the motion both relentless and tender. His eyes are wide open now, so blue and so big and so honest as they bore into yours so intensely it’s suffocating.

It’s soon, it’s way too soon. You’ve barely known each other for a couple months, but you can't deny the warmth spreading through your chest, mingling with the heat of the moment, making everything feel both overwhelming and perfect.

Now that you're here, with Art’s cock fitting so perfectly in the wet heat of your cunt, you can’t believe it took you this long. You love Art. You’ve been in love with Art since the first time he spoke to you. Since the first time he touched you like you were the solution to all his problems.

Art must take your stunned silence as rejection, head falling to rest on your shoulder dejectedly, but his hips don’t slow their rhythm. If anything he speeds up, hips thrusting against you desperately.

“Please, please say it back,” he begs, voice thick with emotion, “Say it back, I need to hear you say it. Please,”

You surge up, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you can, ankles locking together across his back. Art couldn’t pull out of you if he wanted to, judging from the long whine he lets out, he doesn’t mind.

“I love you, Art” You whisper back, barely audible over the lewd slap of his hips stinging your ass. Art groans so loudly you can feel it reverberating off the sensitive skin of your neck.

Hips speeding up even faster, Art turns his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. This kiss is different than any of the other ones you’ve shared tonight, full of so much emotion and unspoken words. You swear you feel your heart grow three sizes, almost full and threatening to break out of your chest.

“I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna fucking come,” he breathes between kisses. You can only moan in response, right on the brink of your own orgasm. His hips start to lose their rhythm as he chases it, fucking into you faster and harder.

Art’s cock gives a final twitch inside you before his hips are stilling and he’s coming with a broken moan, unloading everything he has into you. You’re right behind him, vision whiting out as you come, thighs shaking where they’re draped around his hips.

Art collapses onto you, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from the high of your orgasm’s. You lay like that for a while, heaving and sweaty wrapped up in each other's arms. You feel something slot into place, something that you’ve been missing.

Art’s soft voice pierces through the afterglow, “Will you hold me?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, circling your arms around his shoulders.

…

When you wake up hours later you’re beyond thirsty, dehydrated from all the crying, and maybe from the sex. Art’s head is laying across your bare chest, tousled hair tickling your jaw and arms snug around your waist. He looks so peaceful, eyes closed with his long lashes fanning over his cheeks. The sound of his steady breathing is almost enough to lull you right back to sleep. You smile softly, running your hands through his hair slowly. Savoring how at peace he looks, so different from the battered, broken man you met.

You slip out of his arms as carefully as possible, not wanting to wake him. Rolling out of bed to search half-assedly for your clothes in the darkness. You can’t find your shirt, only your underwear and shorts. You notice a red shirt strewn over the dresser next to the bed, illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the blinds. You pick it up without thinking, it's soft in your hands, the fabric thin and worn down. You toss it on before padding out of the bedroom.

You get a little lost in your thoughts as you make your way to the kitchen, Art loves you.

The thought has you biting back a giddy smile. Art loves you and you love him too. It sounds fucking crazy, but you know it’s true. Your life is so completely fucked, you don’t know if you care.

Art loves you.

Your smile doesn’t leave your lips as you turn the corner, arms wrapped around yourself tightly, the warmth of Art's affection lingering like a gentle caress.

“He smiles more.”

The soft voice ringing out from your left makes you stop in your tracks. You turn, and there in the kitchen illuminated by the soft glow of the ceiling light, like an angel, is Tashi Duncan.

Tashi looks at you from her spot across the room with an impassive look on her face, she’s got your keys in one hand, fiddling with them boredly. When you don't reply she speaks again, "He's playing better, won the last three tournaments he was in." She says casually, setting her half full wine glass down on the island.

You don't need to ask her who "he" is.

You're silent for a few more beats as she stares at you expectantly, silently urging you to say something. You rack your brain for a response, caught like a deer in headlights under Tashi's gaze.

"What?" you softly mutter, words cutting through the air weakly.

Tashi sighs in exasperation, like you're a child who doesn't understand the simple question she's asking. She raises her wine glass back to her lips, draining the rest of it before setting it down once more and making her way over to you.

You know you should flee, make a break for the door before she reaches you. Running away from the woman whose husband you’re fucking - whose husband you just got done fucking, and who told you he loved you - while she pays you seems like the easiest thing to do in the moment, but you don't.

You find yourself glued to the spot as Tashi's commanding presence looms over you, until she's all you can see. Until her expensive smelling perfume is all you can breathe, until she's towering over you, miles of soft skin on display in a classy black nightie.

She stares down at you, her face completely unreadable. It feels like hours as her brown eyes burn into yours, your heart must be beating a thousand beats per second.

When Tashi finally moves, it’s her hand you see rising up in your peripheral vision. At first you think she's going to hit you, get you back for sleeping with her husband, for falling in love with her husband. You tense up, bracing for the slap, it would be the least of what you deserve, but it never comes.

Instead, Tashi's hand finds its way up to the side of your face, cupping your cheek gently. You can feel the chilled metal of her wedding band make contact with your warm skin.

You feel like you might pass out staring into the eyes of Tashi Duncan. Everything you ever wanted in high school flashing rapidly right before your eyes.

If Art Donaldson is the sun, Tashi is the moon. Her light draws you in and keeps you looking at her, and never wanting to look away.

Her thumb slides across your bottom lip, the same lip that’s kissed her husband. Ever so slightly, she pushes the tip of her thumb into your parted lips, far enough to touch your bottom teeth. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening in shock, your pulse is fluttering wildly. You distantly wonder if she can feel it on the inside of her wrist.

“I’m his coach, I need to be hard on him or he fails. I refuse to let him fail,” she says softly, tone casual like she’s not brushing the tip of your tongue with her fingers. “But I’m not stupid, I know what he needs. Someone sweet, someone gentle, someone who looks at him and doesn’t see tennis.”

You couldn’t answer her if you wanted to, but you wouldn’t trust yourself to speak anyway. You feel far away and floaty the longer her fingers sit in your mouth, your brain feels like molasses.

“I can’t give him what he needs. I’m not that kind of person,” Tashi says, eyes roaming your face languidly, like she’s window shopping your features. Her voice is nearly a whisper the next time she speaks, “but you are. You could be that for him.”

Your heart drops, the haze surrounding your brain rips away so violently, like someone took a leaf blower to it. Her words make everything start to fall into place, the at home visits, the “exclusive deal”, the weird ass run-ins you’ve had with her over the weeks.

This was never about the goddamn massages.

For a few seconds you both stay like that. Standing inches away from each other in the half-lit kitchen of her and Art's house. For a second, you think you can see the tiniest smile playing on her lips before she drops her hand from you completely.

"There’s a car waiting for you outside,” she says, still close enough that you can feel her breath fan over your face, “See you next Thursday."

Tashi turns on her heels and leaves you alone, disappearing down the long hallway leading to her and Art's bedroom. You watch the whole time she goes, until she completely fades into the shadows. Your lip still tingling from her touch.

There’s only one thing on your mind as you incredulously stare down the now empty hall…

These people are so fucking weird.

1K notes · View notes

chunghasweetie · 6 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍’ 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 | J.JK

— pairing | fem!oc x husband!jjk

— summary | jungkook’s been working non stop and you’re finally sick of repeating yourself (healthy argument)

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best) medium angst, workaholic jk, makeup sex, mentions of breeding kink, unprotected sex

— word count | 2.8k words

— song suggestion | thinking about you — ariana grande

He knew he messed up. Big time.

It was very late at night. Damn near 2am.

Jungkook had just barely arrived home to a silent house. He walked into his twin babies room, noticing that both baby Hiro and baby Liyah were already asleep for the night.

He hadn’t seen them in days.

He was working like crazy recently, going into work when he really didn’t need to.

He ran his own car line and was always on top of it when it came to work. The last month he had hardly ever been home long enough to interact with his family.

His wife knew what she was getting into when she married him. She knew his company was important to him and she completely understood.

But recently things had been different lately. He was missing doctors appointments, events, and simply quality time with her and their babies.

The twins were around 7 months old and were definitely a handful for his wife. She could handle everything on her own but it wasn’t always easy.

She needed him.

Tonight he really messed up.

He opened his room door, seeing his wife on her phone. He had promised her that he’d get off early to attend a family gathering but he chose to work again.

He knew she was greatly upset. “Hey baby” He announced his presence, cracking their door open behind him.

“Hey.” She replied dryly, not looking up from her phone.

She was beyond pissed and he could instantly sense it.

Jungkook walked over to her side of the bed, sitting down beside her. He knew she was upset with him, and he couldn't blame her.

"Y/n,I'm sorry. I really am." His voice was low, sincere, and full of regret. “I just got caught up baby.”

She didn’t say anything, simply rolling her eyes.

Jungkook's heart sank as he saw her roll her eyes. He knew he hurt her, and it was killing him inside.

He reached out and gently took her phone, setting it aside on the nightstand. "Baby, please look at me. I really am sorry."

“It’s fine, Jungkook.” The irritation was visible on her face. He’s been working all day and night and she needed him around.

She hardly ever seen him. He promised her he would go with her and he still didn’t go. She was hurting.

Jungkook felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he saw the hurt and disappointment in her eyes.

"Baby, I know it's not fine. I messed up. I promised you that I would go to the party with you, and I didn't show up." He admitted.

“You know how fucking embarrassing it was?” She looked at him.

“I looked like a hot mess today Jungkook and everyone felt sooo bad for me and I felt so humiliated” She continued.

Jungkook's heart ached as he saw the pain and embarrassment in her eyes.

He took her hand in his, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry, baby. I should have been there with you. It must have been awful for you."

“Yeah you fucking should’ve.” She rolled her eyes once more. “You begged me for a fucking baby and I gave you twins and you can’t even show up for them. I’ve been doing everything myself.”

Jungkook's heart sank as he heard her words, a knot forming in his stomach. "I know, baby. I'm sorry. I never meant for you to feel like you’re on your own."

He pulled her into a tight hug, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "I’m so sorry gorgeous.”

“Jungkook we’ve had this conversation so many times.” She shook her head “You’re a fucking workaholic.”

He knew she was right. There was no denying he was putting work over his family. He knew he had to make a change.

Jungkook sighed as he felt her frustration and disappointment. He couldn't believe he had let things get this bad between them.

"You're right, Y/n. I've been a workaholic, not giving you the attention you deserve." He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes.

“It’s not even me it’s your kids you need to be there for. I know they’re babies and they won’t remember but they still need you Jungkook. I need you.” She sniffed, obviously stressed and fighting tears.

“You missed it, earlier at the function Hiro was trying to crawl.” She then broke down, letting her tears fall. “And you missed it.”

“Fuck.” Jungkook listened to her, realizing the true extent of the damage he had caused. He felt guiltier than ever.

"I know, Y/n. I've been selfish, thinking only about work, neglecting my children and my beautiful wife." He sighed. “You shouldn’t have to suffer on your own.”

“I just want change. I-I just don’t know what else to do.” She sighed. “Both twins were crying and needy. E-Everyone was doubting me like I couldn’t take care of my own kids.”

Jungkook's heart ached as he heard the pain in her voice. He couldn't bear the thought of her feeling alone in this, feeling like she wasn't doing enough.

He reached out and gently took her hand. "Listen to me, Y/n," he said softly, "You are the perfect mother. You are capable and strong and loving.”

He continued, “I was wrong to leave it all on you and I promise that I will change. I will be there for our children, I will support you in every way possible. And to those who doubt you, let them eat shit."

She cried more at his words, hardly able to compose herself. Jungkook's heart swelled with love at the sight of her emotion.

He pulled her into a tight embrace and whispered soothing words into her ear. "Shh, it's okay, mama. I'm here for you now, always. I will never let you down again."

“Please mean it this time.” She hiccuped.

Jungkook cupped her face gently and locked eyes with her.

"I have never been more serious about anything in my life. I love you and our children more than words can express. I promise you, I will do whatever it takes to make things right and earn your trust back."

Jungkook's heart ached at the sight of her tears.

He pulled her into a kiss, caressing her back gently. "It's okay, mama. I understand. I'm here for you now. What do you need me to do to make you feel better? I’ll drop everything immediately for us baby.”

“Can you just stay home tomorrow? Spend time with the babies— That’s all I want.”

Jungkook smiled softly at her and held her closely, rubbing her back soothingly.

"Of course beautiful. I will stay home tomorrow. I will be here for you all day, just like you deserve. I love you." He then kissed her forehead.

“I’ll stay home with you tomorrow, the next day, next week, next month. Shit, I’ll stay home with you until they’re in preschool.” He told her, making her eyes widen.

He knew he needed to do this. Her crying and confronting him gave him the wake up call he really needed. She didn’t deserve anything he was going to her and the kids didn’t deserve it either.

He wanted a baby so bad and he was fortunate enough to have his wife give him

two. He was taking that all for granted and

he knew that now.

“I love you too.” She wiped her eyes.

Jungkook's eyes shone with love and devotion as he looked at her. "I am so lucky to have a wife like you, mama. You are my everything."

He gently wiped away the remaining tears and hugged her tighter, feeling his heart swell with love for her.

“I’m luckier. I know I complain and I bitch at you a lot but I do really love you.” She told him, pecking his lips.

Jungkook's heart fluttered at her affectionate peck on his lips.

He smiled, feeling grateful for her. "You are amazing, mama. And I know we have our moments, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

Jungkook chuckled and deepened their kiss, feeling his love for her grow even more.

He kissed her passionately, savoring the taste of her lips and feeling his heart race with excitement. "I would do anything for you, Y/n. You’re my world.”

Jungkook smiled against her lips, feeling his heart swell with happiness. He deepened their kiss even further, his hands roaming over her body possessively. "You make me complete, mama. You are my weakness."

“Am I?” She giggled against his lips.

Jungkook couldn't help but chuckle at her teasing tone. He nodded and nuzzled his nose against hers.

"Yes, you are. You have me wrapped around your finger, and you know it." He gave her lips another kiss.

He couldn't get enough of her, couldn't stop himself from kissing her. "Mama, you make me so happy." He whispered the words against her lips, before pulling back slightly to look at her. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you babe” She blushed.

"I wanna make this up to you" He leaned down to kiss her neck, making her giggle and squirm in his arms.

She let him kiss all over her neck, loving how much attention he gave her.

He moved his lips from her neck to her lips, kiss immediately turned hot in seconds.

She made out with him on their bed, giving wet sloppy kisses.

Jungkook groaned as she started to kiss him, his arms tightening around her as he returned the kiss.

He couldn't get enough of her, couldn't stop himself from deepening the kiss. "Fuck mama..."

The two hadn’t got into it in some time. He had been working and she was always occupied with something else.

Now with built up emotions, it was just the time to ease up with one another.

Jungkook pulled back slightly, looking at her with a heated gaze. "You are so fucking beautiful."

He leaned in to kiss her again, before pulling back and standing up from the bed. "Wanna have you now. Gotta show my woman some

love.”

“You’re gonna make it up to me like this?” She bit her lips

“You want it don’t you?” Jungkook smiled into the kiss, his hands reaching for her silky pajama shirt. He tugged it up over her head, revealing her lacy red bra.

"You are so fucking hot, Y/n." He whispered against her lips, before leaning in to capture her lips in a deep, passionate kiss once more.

“I know. You have a hot wife who still tries to look good for you.” She smirked against his lips.

Jungkook chuckled, his hands reaching for the clasp of her bra. "And I’m beyond grateful. She’s the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Getting impatient baby.” She licked her lips, eyeing him.

Jungkook groaned at her words, his hands reaching for the button of his pants. "You have no idea how much I want you, mama."

He murmured, before pulling down his pants and boxers, revealing his hard cock. "I'm going to do you so good baby.”

“Better not disappoint me.” She replied jokingly.

Jungkook chuckled, leaning in to kiss her again. "I would never disappoint you and you know that.." He whispered, before guiding himself inside of her.

The couple both gasped as he slipped himself inside.

“Oh fuck” He looked down. “Missed this so much. To think I was missing this for work.”

“Fucking finally. Needed this.” She cursed, still taking him in. She was desperate for him.

Jungkook groaned at her words, thrusting deeper into her. "You feel so fucking good, mama." He growled, his hands gripping onto her hips as he moved in and out of her. “So fucking tight.”

“You could’ve been had this.” She hummed, “That’s your fault.”

"I'm sorry, mama. I know I've been working a lot lately." He whispered, kissing her neck. "But you're all I think about when I'm gone. I promise.”

“You sure? Prove it then.” She cocked her eyebrow.

Jungkook smirked, going harder into her, showing her just how much he loves and desires her.

"You think I'm not capable?" He growled in her ear before kissing her hard as he continued his thrusting. "You're the only thing on my mind."

Jungkook slammed into her, making her mouths shoot open in surprise at his new brute force.

"I'll take care of you real good." He promised, only after a few more hard slams into her. "So fucking beautiful. All mine.”

“Shit you feel good.” She whimpered, trying not to make too much noise. “Fuck that’s it.”

Jungkook smirked at her. "I know it does, mama." He whispered, his lips barely leaving her ear as he continued to thrust into her. "That's right. Take it baby.”

“So good— Missed this dick so much” She confessed.

Jungkook's eyes roll back as a moan of pure pleasure leaves his mouth. "Fuck, mama." He breathed out through clenched teeth.

"I missed this pussy, more than anything." He said, before picking up the pace, making their skin slapping louder and louder.

“My woman” He mumbled into her ear. “My wife. The mother of my kids. Rely on me more. Please.”

He continued. “Gonna fucking take years off work all for us. Gonna make more babies with you. Should I fuck another one into you tonight? Hm?”

She was beyond heated, unable to say anything but simply nod.

Jungkook chuckles as she admits what he already knows. "That’s it pretty girl" He groaned, slamming into her even harder at the revelation. "I haven't felt you like this in so long, I was fucking dying without you, Y/!.”

“You should’ve stayed home with me more— fuck.” She moaned quietly, “Only using my fingers was killing me”

Jungkook's thrust became wilder at her words, it's been so long since he heard her moan his name like this. "Fuck, mama. I will, I swear. I'll stay home with you every fucking night, no more having to do everything yourself.”

Jungkook leaned down, trailing kisses along her neck, then whispering against her lips.

She returned the energy. She made out with him roughly, taking her frustration out on him and letting it all go.

Jungkook deepened the kiss, pulling her closer and letting her release her frustrations.

His hand reached down, gripping her ass and pulling her even closer as he thrusts harder into her, grunting into her mouth. "Love it when you fuck me back, just like this."

“Can’t help it.” She fluttered his mouth with open mouthed kisses, whining.

Jungkook growls at the sound of her whine, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he gets closer to his release. "Fuck, I love it when you're like this. So fucking needy and eager for me."

“Been needing this dick for months now” She groaned into his mouth.

Jungkook smirks against her lips, his hand reaching up and gripping her throat gently. "I know, mama. I made you wait and I’ll never do that shit again. You deserve this shit every morning and every night."

“Better fucking mean that shit too.”

Jungkook chuckles, leaning down and sucking on her neck, biting down and leaving a bruise. "All to myself. I’m so lucky.”

Jungkook thrusts into her harder, losing his rhythm as he approaches his release. "Fuck, yeah, that's it. Come for me, mama. Show me how much you love my dick."

“Shit” She curses, “Fuck mm so close Jungkook.” She gripped on his hair roughly before finally reaching her high and cumming.

Jungkook groans and thrusts a few more times before he finally reaches his climax, filling her up with his hot seed, gripping her hips tightly.

"Fuck, Y/n. You got me going to make me fucking crazy with that tight pussy for years now.” He panted, trying to catch his breath.

“You look pretty with that afterglow.” Jungkook chuckles and kisses her forehead before standing up and grabbing a warm washcloth to clean her up.

“Such a gentleman.” She blushed.

"You're always so fucking cute, baby. I love it." He says, smiling warmly at her before helping her sit up and cleaning her down there.

“Thank you baby.” She caught her breath.

“Although you made it up to me right now, I really want you to spend more time with me and the babies.” She exhaled. “They’re only this age once.”

Jungkook nods, setting the washcloth aside before crawling back into bed and pulling her into his arms.

"You're right, mama. I'll make sure to spend more time with you and the babies." He says, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll be around 24/7 now baby. You never have to worry about me again.”

“Okay baby.” She pecked his lips, “I love you.”

Jungkook smiles and pecks her back before wrapping his arms around her. "I love you too, mama."

1K notes · View notes

lovemomhatepolice · 8 days ago

Text

cravings - carlos sainz jr.

navigation taglist requests

pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem! reader

warnings: established relationship, pregnancy sex, needy!reader, cursing, p in v, fingering, tits playing, pet names, creampie, English is my second language!

type: smut! with small plot

word count: 2,8k

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER

summary: after dinner with his parents, carlos must properly take care of his pregnant fiancée

more content: formula 1 masterlist, carlos sainz masterlist

a/n: I encourage you to give requests in the Christmas marathon! click here :) and my first thousand celebration PLEASE I AM DESPERATE, I HAVE TO WRITE SOMETHING!

Ever since you met Carlos' parents, you've loved them. And they have loved you. You always had a nice time, the conversations never stopped, and your cheeks hurt from laughing.

And so it was today, too - despite your almost seventh month of pregnancy, where your belly was already quite large and your uterus was pushing against your other organs inside, which was damn tiring, you had a good time at dinner with his parents.

“Eat up, darling. You’re eating for two, remember,” Reyes said with a playful wink.

You chuckled softly, but as you tried to make room for even one more bite, you couldn't help but let out a tired sigh. The baby had been particularly active today, and now, after a full meal, the pressure on your ribs and stomach was becoming nearly unbearable.

Carlos leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “You okay, amor?” he whispered softly, his eyes full of concern.

“Yes, it's just that Ava is giving me a hard time today,” you laughed under your breath, stroking your belly.

Yes, you had a baby girl whose hair on examination was as thick and dark as Carlos'. Even though they had only recently grown into her. And you could have sworn you saw tears in his eye when he saw that on the screen at your gynecologist, too.

Now, as you caressed your belly, Carlos placed a tender hand over yours, feeling Ava’s little movements beneath your skin. "She’s a fighter already, just like her mamá," he murmured with a soft chuckle, his voice filled with admiration.

Carlos's Sr eyes sparkled as he watched the two of you. “Ava is already making sure everyone knows she's a Sainz,” he said with a proud smile.

Reyes reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “I can’t wait to meet her. She’s going to be beautiful, just like her mother.”

“Just say the word, and we’ll leave whenever you want. I’ve got you.” Carlos said to you, whispering.

And with these words Carlos smiled at you and put his hand on your thigh, gently stroking the hem of your dress with his fingers. You immediately became hot for this activity. Your fiancé always managed to make you ready in an instant. And so it was today, too, and all the exhaustion Ava was giving you disappeared.

You shifted slightly in your chair, fighting the urge to press your thighs together as his fingers continued their teasing strokes just beneath the tablecloth, hidden from everyone else. You shot him a warning look, trying to convey that this wasn’t the place, but Carlos, ever the playful one, only smirked, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Carlos...” you whispered, your voice low and breathless, as if the very air between you crackled with electricity. “Behave"

Carlos merely grinned, leaning back in his chair as if nothing had happened, though his fingers still lingered for just a moment longer before he finally pulled away. The absence of his touch left you feeling almost bereft, but it also sent a silent promise for later, when you would finally be alone.

And although you often had cravings for sweet things, this time you wanted something spicy and hot...

~ The road home was quiet. Your hormones had subsided, and Carlos was no longer going crazy with his fingers. Everything seemed to stop. You were a little tired, but happy. You loved the time with his parents, who were to become your family in the near future. Carlos was also terribly happy - for a while he could forget about his driving duties, the impending end of his Ferrari career and the whole that world.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “I really needed that.”

Carlos glanced at you with that gentle smile that always melted your heart. “Me too, carino,” he replied, his voice hushed, almost reverent. “Being with my parents and especially with you is always amazing"

You just smiled at him and both of you entered the house. Your shared house, where you had not so long ago moved in. It was quiet inside, and the only sound you could hear was the water Carlos turned on for tea. This had been your ritual since you became pregnant - every day you drank tea before bed.

You stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Carlos move around the kitchen with ease.

“Which one do you want today?” he asked, although he knew the answer well. But he asked anyway, in case you changed your answer or wanted to surprise him. “Peppermint,” you muttered, smiling sincerely at him. It was your favorite, especially now that you were pregnant.

When you heard the whistling of the kettle, you turned around and slowly began walking toward your living room. You sat comfortably on the couch, adjusting the cushions under your back, and waited for your fiancé, watching the view outside the window.

Carlos soon joined you, carrying two mugs of steaming tea. He set them on the coffee table and then sat down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Instinctively, you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest. A few minutes of longed-for silence passed, when Carlos spoke up.

“Wait here for me,” he muttered, kissing you on the forehead. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared from your field of vision and rushed upstairs, where your bedroom, bathroom and many other rooms were located. As you drank the last sips of your tea, you heard the water in the bathtub begin to run, and Carlos ran down the stairs. He joined you on the couch for another second before he easily lifted you in his arms, obviously being careful not to hurt either you or Ava, and started walking up the stairs. It was as if you weighed nothing.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound light and breathless as Carlos carried you up the stairs with such ease. “You really don’t have to carry me every time, you know,” you teased, even though you secretly loved it. It made you feel cherished, protected.

“You're my queen, you deserve it,” he laughed, kissing you lightly on the neck, tickling with his stubble. “Oh, and you're my Prince Charming,” you laughed, seeing his boyish grin.

"So here I am"

He carried you over to the bathroom, where the sound of water filled the air, gentle and inviting. The bathtub was already nearly full, steam curling up to fog the mirrors, and rose petals floated on the surface, turning the water into a delicate sea of pink and red.

“How did you do it so fast?” you asked as he gently set you down. Your bathroom had never been so beautiful before. Even if it wasn't quite as clean now as it was at first, that was definitely not the point. “I'm fast,” he muttered, placing his large hands on your hips. “Maybe not so fast as to win the championship, but you have your charm.”

You hit him lightly on the shoulder, giggling. Even at a time like this, he was able to laugh at himself. That's exactly what Carlos was - loving, caring for his loved ones. He was the sunshine that was often missed. “You'll win again someday,” you said, standing closer to him and smacking him gently on the lips. “In my eyes, you win every time.”

He helped you out of your dress with such tender care, his hands never lingering too long, though you could feel the heat in his gaze as he admired your body—rounder, softer, growing with the life you were creating together. Once you were undressed, he guided you carefully into the warm bath, making sure you were comfortable before joining you.

As you made yourself comfortable in the tub, Carlos' hands immediately found a place on your belly, gently stroking it. The water around you was pleasantly warm - not as hot as always and not too cold. It was just perfect, surrounding your swollen body as it should. Its scent was unearthly, gently teasing your nostrils, but enjoyably so.

“Does that feel good, mi amor?” he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper against your ear.

"Mhm" you mumbled, tilting your head to look at him.

“Ava’s been really active tonight, huh? She must be trying to get your attention,” he teased, his tone filled with wonder as his fingers brushed against a spot where she shifted slightly beneath your skin.

You smiled, covering his hand with yours as you both felt your daughter move. “She definitely takes after her daddy, always wanting to be the center of attention,” you teased back.

“Or after her mommy, who cries out for my attentions every time,” he muttered, looking into your eyes. “Oh, for real?” you asked teasingly, raising your eyebrows.

The atmosphere around you became hot, and it was not due to the warmth of the bath. Or the steam that was rising throughout the bathroom. “Mhm, look how wet you are” he whispered, directing his hand to your clit. You sighed as his fingers touched your tender skin where you needed it most. Your libido during pregnancy was not lower at all. Especially when you saw Carlos as he was now. A wet body that was properly trained, the messy hair you loved so much and softly rosy cheeks from the warmth that surrounded you.

“Carlos,” you groaned, involuntarily tightening around his fingers, which entered you. Carlos moved them rhythmically inside you, his thumb teasing your clit, which had become even more sensitive to his touch during your pregnancy. You couldn't resist it, and especially when his other hand slid down to your hard nipples. He caressed your neck with his lips, alternately placing subtle kisses and bites on it.

“Shh, cariño,” he murmured, his lips grazing the edge of your jawline. “I just want to make you feel good… let me take care of you,” he added, his voice low and husky, filled with that sultry tone that always drove you wild.

You didn't need much. Looking at how sensitive you were, you soon became a moaning mess around his fingers. Carlos knew what he was doing. He hit the perfect spot with them, circling his thumb around your clit, which accelerated your waves of ecstasy even harder. On the other hand, he continued kissing your neck, leaving there the love bites he most likely loved when you were wearing it. His dexterous hands squeezed and stroked your large breasts, which ached more often and harder. And your strained nipples, where milk was being produced.

"Good girl" he muttered against your neck, feeling your orgasm around his fingers.

“Carlos, please,” you muttered, turning your head to him. Your man joined your lips in a passionate kiss, slightly biting your lower lip to give him access to your mouth. Your tongues fought a fierce battle, but you wanted one thing. Without hesitation, you corrected your position on top of him and touching his cock, directed him to your entrance and gently leaned on him, your other hand catching on his neck. “Shh, fuck,” he moaned into your mouth, starting to move inside you.

“Oh,” you moaned, catching his neck more firmly with your right hand. With your other hand you held your breast, squeezing harder than Carlos had done before. Today you didn't want it to be gentle. You felt such a great need to fuck inside you that you were off limits. “Carlos, don't limit yourself,” you muttered into his swollen mouth.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he whispered with caring eyes. His hand wandered to your clit again, even though he knew full well how it would end. Before the pregnancy, you mostly came at similar times, but now you knew that tonight would not just be your second orgasm, but one in a row. “You won't hurt,” you said, grabbing his face tighter and looking straight into his beautiful chocolate eyes. “Just fuck me harder.” There was a hunger in his eyes that you hadn't seen in a long time. The bathroom was getting hotter by the second, even though the water was evaporating faster and faster. Carlos clung harder to your lips, kissing you with the great passion that had been between you from the beginning. You have always wanted each other in the same way, without letting it get any worse - it just kept getting better and better. And as if on cue, Carlos sped up, hitting you with his full length where he was supposed to hit. You moaned into his mouth, and he was not indebted to you. Although he was focused on giving you and himself physical pleasure, all the while he was muttering sweet nothings to you.

“You are so beautiful,” he purred into your mouth. “All swollen with my baby inside your beautiful body, fuck”. You moaned at his words. It was true, of course it was true. You were all sore and swollen, but it was his baby you had inside you. Your longed-for child, the one you had been trying for not so long, but she was the one you had been waiting for.

“Carlos, I'm so close,” you muttered into his mouth, pulling slightly away from him to look between you. Oh, that view was compelling every time. Carlos was going in and out of you with deadly speed, making the tub shake, and you could have sworn that if there had been neighbors around you, they would have definitely heard what was going on with you. “I know, carino, I know,” he said, and his gaze landed on the same spot as yours. By this time, your juices were blending together perfectly, making an unusual mess in the tub. His cum combined with your juices and you could watch it pour out of you.

You have never been bored by this view. It might have seemed strange to someone, but you and Carlos, once you could admire your liquids spilling out of your pussy, were in cloud nine. It was a kind of quiet promise, a moment of privacy and intimacy you shared with no one else.

"I love you so so much" he muttered, kissing you now lightly.

He continued to move inside you, but this time only so you could come down from your orgasm, just as he did. Your pussy clamped down on him, pleasantly enveloping him with its tightness. You both loved the feeling - you then finally felt as full as possible, and Carlos felt that he had found his place. However silly it sounded. You guys loved it.

When you cooled down and the water became unpleasantly cool, you decided to get out of the tub. Carlos did it first, so that he could safely help you. He carefully wrapped you in a soft, fluffy towel, his hands remaining on your wet skin, warm and soothing as he gently dried your shoulders and then your hands. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring your touch, making sure every inch of you was taken care of.

You stood in front of the mirror, your reflection soft in the dim light, your body round with Ava, the little life growing inside of you. Carlos moved behind you, his chest brushing against your back as he gently ran his hands over your shoulders, his touch lingering with care.

He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear. “You are beautiful,” he purred, kissing the lobe of your ear. “I can't wait for Ava to get here and see it too.” You smiled with emotion at his words and turned to face him, placing your hands on his cheeks. You stood on your toes, gently kissing him on the lips. You felt him smile under the pressure of your lips, which you shared. “She will be even more beautiful. After all, her father is Carlos Sainz Jr, the fucking Prince Charming of Formula One.”

A/N: how I love pregnancy content!! AND CARLOS, OMG, my favorite driver, and I only have one one-shot with him, what's a shame (open orders, feel free to give ideas!)

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

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princessbrunette · 6 months ago

Text

john b made puppy!reader cum a whole bunch of times. no, not to overstimulate her — he’d thought about it, many times with his cock in his hand, but it was early days. today, he just had to be certain that she was slicked up enough to even get him inside that snug cunt.

he drags the tip through your puffy folds, watching each and every way your body jerks and twitches — audibly soaked, your arousal clicking and oozing with each grind of his hips. you were still sensitive, naturally — the taste of you still on his tongue, so he was being patient. even when he watched your hole clench around nothing and you placed a smaller hand on his wrist.

“please, i still want it daddy.” you groan, tearful and demure.

“look, i want you to know that we don’t have to do anything today if you don’t —”

“i still want it, daddy.” you suck in a breath so sharp you nearly choke on it and he raises his eyebrows, nodding in yielding.

“okay, okay. take it easy sweetheart. i’ll give you what you want.”

he watches the way his fat tip presses against your puffy pussy lips, spreading them obscenely from just the slightest pressure. john b always knew he was big, bigger than average atleast. curious eyes had decided that for himself upon taking shy glances around all-male changing rooms and locker room conversations about dick size that had friends saying ‘you’re a fucking liar, bro.’ the girls in his past had a little more experience than you, and welcomed the stretch — but looking at you below him, he wondered if this could potentially scare you off. he was about to do something he never thought he’d do, chicken out.

“bubba…” he cradles you, sliding hands under your back to hold you close and press kisses to your hot skin. john b’s voice was filled with sympathy, and if you weren’t so hazy in the head, desperate for his dick — you might’ve picked up on what he was about to say. “i don’t think it’s gonna fit, puppy.” he coo’s.

“no!” you whine petulantly. it wasn’t like you to be spoiled or demanding — but you had been preparing all week to take your boyfriend and you’d be damned if you didn’t get to atleast try to feel him inside you. “no, john b!” crestfallen, you let the hot tears race down your cheeks and his brows crease, feeling awful about it.

“i don’t want to hurt you, okay? i just —”

“make it fit, please— please make it fit john b, need it so bad!” you babble out a beg, snot pooling beneath your nose and all. he’d seen desperation, and he’d seen you cry — but never had he seen you cry in desperation for his cock. it twitches involuntarily against you, the heavy pink tip thumping your clit making you jerk, shuddering.

“heyheyheyhey— okay, okay. sweetheart, look at me. look at daddy. riiiight here.” he presses a wide hand to your chest to still you, the warmth of his palm proving to serve as some comfort as you suck in a shaky breath, bottom lip still wobbling. “thaaats my girl. breathe, okay?” he feels the thudding of your heart slow ever so slightly against his palm as you suck in slow trembling breaths. “i’m… i’m gonna try okay? but you… you need to breathe. gonna give me a heart attack, pup — jesus.” he sighs, lining himself up once more.

he decides one fluid motion might be better, so once he starts pushing in he doesn’t stop. slowly, but surely he feels your walls contract and stretch around his thickness — your jaw tense in determination as you put every muscle possible into lax, allowing john b to do what needs to be done.

“that okay? talk to me puppy how does it feel?”

“feels full.” you say through a strained tongue. you didn’t know you’d stopped breathing.

“what’d i say, hm? breathe.”

you suck in a long hard breath at this permission, and as you do so john b takes the opportunity to bottom out completely, dropping his forehead to your shoulder to let out a gravelly groan as you squeak. you feel as though you can’t even clench. there’s no space. he feels your glossy walls fluttering and trying anyway.

“happy, pup? that feel nice?”

he lifts his head, warm brown eyes searching your watery iris. there’s a softness to you suddenly, like you’d completely let go and you nod— a clammy hand pushing his wavy brown hair from his face.

“i wanna stay like this forever.”

#div by v6que #puppy!reader #john b prompt

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pshaven · 6 months ago

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i found your account through the story of jealous jay... that's really amazing. would you write more for him? 🥹

ahh thank you smm!! ; girl bsf!reader, cunnilingus, implied pnv, enjoooyyyy

jay who just broke up with his girlfriend because she was insecure over you, his girl best friend, easily in his top three favorite women in the entire world.

he’s ranting to you, cheek against the palm of his hand as he tries to put into words how confused he is.

“i don’t get it. she’s— was, my girlfriend. i liked her, that’s why i even dated her in the first place? so why’s she even jealous over you?” he sighs frustratedly, because this is definitely not the first time one of jay’s ex’s broke up with him over him being too close with you.

you don’t really know how to break it to him. you know why the ex’s are all fussy about you, but you also know that if you were to tell jay that he has to distance himself from you, he would never do it.

you’re his favorite girl (other than his mother!). it would be too difficult for him to not hang out with you every other day. hell, he couldn’t imagine living a life without you.

“jay…” you start, placing a comforting hand on his thigh and you feel him tense slightly, “i think that, maybe… we shouldn’t keep seeing each other all the time while you’re dating somebody else.” you finally bite the bullet, but your shoulders still feel heavy.

jay doesn’t say anything for a solid minute. you start to feel even more awkward than you already were before, shifting slightly in your seat on the couch beside him and you begin to remove your hand from his thigh.

and then he scoffs. he shakes his head as if he’s in disbelief. “why does it sound like you’re breaking up with me too?” his tone sounding mean, hurt over that you would think he’d ever let you go.

well, he’ll just have to prove to you that you’re the only girl in his life.

“oh— ah, j-jay hold on!” you squeal, your legs being practically folded in half as your knees meet your chest. jay doesn’t waste any time, his tongue already prodding at your leaking entrance. his pinky finger hooking your ruined panties to the side, not bothering to fully take it off.

“damn,” he curses underneath his breath, the air fanning over your cunt that causes your hips to buck up into nothing. “leaking like you’ve been waiting for this, aren’t you? would’ve never wasted my time with her if i knew you were waiting for me all this time…” he rambles, staring lasers into your clenching cunt.

you whine, hips needlessly pushing towards his face. “stop it…” you say meekly, throwing an arm over your heated face. he tsks, his hand reaching up to remove your arm.

“cover your face again ‘n i’ll tie your hands together,” he says meanly, but his hand thats interlocking yours shows you otherwise.

but that mercy is easily taken away as he dips his head forward, tongue exploring your insides and he groans into you.

with a cry of his name, you writhe and squirm on the couch, your grip on his hand tightening and he reciprocates as well. his thumb caresses the back of your hand, so kindly…

totally opposite of the tongue that’s bullying your entrance and clit, switching back and forth like he’s indecisive on which to focus on more— but he easily solves the issue with a finger slipping inside with ease from your slick.

you start panting, “fuucckk— oh fuck, wa-it,” your voice breaking when jay enters another finger inside you, the stretch already more than what you’re typically used to.

he chuckles at your squirming, not bothering to obey your small pleas and cries for him to slow down. he’s too entranced with your taste, his tongue swirling and toying with your sensitive clit and the way you clench around his fingers? oh, he highly doubts you actually want him to slow down.

jay’s fingers entering in and out of you, the loud squelches of your sloppy cunt making you feel hot and embarrassed, but the overwhelming pleasure makes you dizzy. he pulls away to give your poor clit a small break, but his fingers are still relentless.

“girl, don’t fight me…” he drawls, leaning his face into your neck, peppering wet kisses near your ear. “wanna cum for me?” he whispers so gently, causing your hips to fuck back into his fingers. he groans at this, his voice near your ear making you even more sensitive.

you nod your head earnestly, your free hand grabbing onto his wrist that’s between your legs. “pleaassseeee,” you whine, moving your head to look at him.

he peers up from your neck, a smirk playing on his handsome features that makes you weak. he hums, “my girl wants a kiss?” and you nod again, a cute pout on your lips that he can’t refuse.

bringing his face closer to yours, he meets your lips into a sloppy kiss, your pace already needy and fast, contradicting his originally slow pace. he moans into your kiss, the hard on in his pants getting even more difficult to ignore.

his fingers curl up inside you, your lips parting against jay’s lips, whimpering and moaning loudly as your orgasm suddenly rushes over you. jay responds by kissing you harder, intent on stealing your breath away as you do your best to keep up with his kiss.

“nonono, ahh…” you whimper, your hips twitching from oversensitivity with jay still thrusting his fingers. he laughs softly, pulling his fingers away and giving your cunt a cute pat.

you stare at him with furrowed brows, but you look non-threatening with your chest heaving from catching your breath. “what was that for?!”

jay shrugs, “makin’ sure she can still handle my cock.”

#enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #jay smut #jay x reader #park jongseong #enhypen fanfic #jay hard hours #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #kpop smut #enhypen

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blueicequeen19 · 7 months ago

Text

Warnings: hooking up with Rafe after JJ humiliated you

You were humiliated after you found out. It was bad enough that you’d slept with a Pogue but for that Pogue to record it and post it on his snap?

Now everyone knew.

There was no hiding it. You could tell by the way people were staring at you that they’d all seen it. But honestly not all the attention was bad. Rafe Cameron spoke to you for the first time since graduating. He even invited you up stairs where his crew hung out.

And when he kissed you? It was like your dreams were suddenly coming true.

“Damn girl.” Rafe groaned against your lips, the hand in your hair preventing you from pulling away from his fevered kisses. Your back was against the wall, your leg hooked over his hip as he rubbed up against you. He didn’t seem to care that the party was still going on around you.

“Rafe.” You gasped as his hand slid up your leg under your dress and grabbed a hand full of your ass.

“So fucking wet for me.” Rafe groans, giving you tingles all the way down to your toes. You couldn’t stop kissing him. His words and his body were doing things to you. It was hard to think.

“I need to feel you stretched around me.” Rafe growled in your ear, his mouth leaving wet kisses down your neck as his hand slipped between your thighs. Your eyes snapped open, wondering momentarily if his friends were watching but his body blocked the view.

“We should go somewhere private.” You gasped when he cupped your sex, his palm grinding against your swollen clit. You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your hips to gain more friction. The lust was overpowering.

“I thought you liked an audience.” Rafe whispered, plunging a finger inside you before you could process what he said. The pleasure was too much. You were so close to cumming already. But he’d seen the video. He thought you were easy. A whore.

“Wait—.” Two fingers curl inside you and your legs almost give out, your eyes nearly crossing.

“I saw the video. I thought it was hot.” Rafe tips your chin up, refusing to let you hide despite his fingers still moving inside you.

“The only thing I kept thinking was—.” His lips brush yours as he whispers, “—I want to know what she feels like stretched around my cock. Then I want that pretty pussy to sit on my face until I can’t breathe.” His words combined with the movement of his fingers tips you over the edge without even meaning to. You clench your jaw to keep from making any noice as you ride out your orgasm, your nails biting into his shirt until the shakes subside.

“You’re not disgusted with me?” You rasp just as he pulls his fingers free and sucks them clean in his mouth. Rafe groans from the taste, letting his eyes fall shut as he presses his erection against your stomach. A clear sign he was not disgusted.

“No, baby. I’m not disgusted.” Rafe takes your hand, leading you into an empty bedroom and leaving the lights off. You watch as he strips, revealing his toned naked glory and a thick cock that looked like it’d hurt. But your clit pulsed with need. Rafe’s dark gaze held yours as he stroked himself from root to tip.

You wanted him in your mouth. Your pussy. Whatever he wanted. Fuck the video.

“This is the only chance I’m offering for you to leave.” The tension was so thick, you could barely catch your breath. Precum beaded on the tip and you licked your lips, needing that in your mouth.

“If you stay, you’re not leaving until I’ve had my fill.” Rafe steps forward and you find yourself stepping back despite wanting him desperately. The weapon between his legs had you intimidated as he matched your retreating steps. As if knowing what was on your mind, Rafe smirked as he stopped in front of you, your back against the wall.

“Are you scared I won’t be able to make it fit?” Rafe’s deep, husky voice had your knees weak as his cock pressed up against your stomach. You nodded, not trusting yourself with words.

“You’re going to take it all of it, right? Make me proud?” You found yourself nodding as Rafe used his free hand to tug down the straps of your sundress. The material pooled at your feet, leaving you in nothing but a thong and wedged sandals.

“Good girl.” Rafe sucked two fingers into his mouth before bringing them between your thighs, the tiny thong not providing much of a barrier before he thrust them inside you. You moaned as he continued to jerk himself off.

“The next time you cum will be on my cock so you better not let go yet.” Rafe leaned down to capture your mouth, a third finger forcing its way inside. Your legs shook as you gripped his biceps, your body wound so tight you could barely breathe. A fourth finger joined the rest and you sobbed against his mouth.

“I’m going to do some disrespectful things to you now.” Rafe murmured, his eyes darker than before. It was the only warning you got before he was fisting your hair and shoving you onto the bed on all fours.

“Rafe.” You pleaded, your body trembling as you felt him come up behind you. His cock slid back and forth through your slit, driving you further into madness.

“I want you to scream for me. I wanna see tears, baby.” The thick mushroom head of his cock met your entrance, causing you to tense. Rafe’s hand came down on your ass in warning, the sting making you whimper even more as he started to push in.

“Oh, god.” You cried out, his cock feeling deep enough to do damage.

“Fuck, you feel even better than I imagined.” Rafe started to move and you reached beneath you to feel where you were connected, your brain short circuiting when you realize he’s only half way.

“Rafe!” You cried, burying your face in the comforter as his movements became harsher.

“Come on, you can take it.” Rafe cooed, pulling you upright by your hair. The pleasure and pain were blinding. An arm snaked around to pinch your nipples before sliding down to push on your stomach. You didn’t recognize the sounds you made. So this is what people meant when they referred to be dick whipped.

“You’re too deep.” You whimpered, tears streaming down your face but you weren’t about to ask him to stop. You were on the verge of something explosive.

“I’m not even all the way in, baby.” Rafe laughed in your ear before shoving you down on the bed and flipping you onto your back. Rafe kneeled on the bed, dragging you closer before sliding back inside.

This was worse.

Your back bowed as you cried out, Rafe’s hands finding your clit and your hard nipples as he fucked you harder than before.

“You feel so fucking good. I never wanna stop.” Rafe groaned, biting his lip in concentration.

You were too far gone to speak. Everything hurt. But the pleasure overruled the pain. When your body exploded with your climax and you soaked the sheets, Rafe only chuckled, continuing to stimulate your clit and nipples until you were nothing but a boneless heap.

“Rafe, please—.” You pushed at his chest, tears blurring your vision. Could you die from being impaled on a dick?

“I haven’t had my fill yet.” Rafe murmured. You whimpered just as Rafe flipped you, stuffing a pillow under your hips and coming down on your back. You were soaked but it still burned from the stretch as he pushed back in. A deep, throaty groan met your ear as Rafe started to move again, your inner walls clenching hard.

“Beg me to cum inside you.” Rafe rasped in your ear, his hand coming around to grip your throat. You were on the edge of another explosive orgasm more powerful than the last. You were sure you’d pass out.

“Please.. Rafe..”

“Tell me what you want.” Rafe bit out, rolling his hips and hitting you even deeper.

“Please cum inside me. Please. I want it so much.” The words barely left your lips before his growl met your ear and his hand tightened on your throat, his movements growing harsher until both your releases were triggered. You screamed as Rafe shouted curses.

You’d never cum so hard in your life. It was like an out of body experience with the hottest guy on the island. You barely registered him removing himself from your abused pussy and rolling you onto your back. You didn’t even register him positioning himself between your legs until his lap lapped at your sensitive clit.

“No more. Please. No more.” You breathed, pushing at his buzzed head as he licked you almost lazily, not minding that you were full of his cum.

“I’m not done. I told you I wanted my fill now lay back and shut up.”

#smutwarning #outer banks smut #obx2 #rafe angst #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe cameron x smut

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miniwheat77 · 1 year ago

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Army Green. (Ghost x Virgin!Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, Age gap (Reader is 20, Simon is 32), unprotected sex, p in v sex, virginity loss, animal getting hurt, Simon in distress, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ. (Sorry if I missed any.)

It’s a sunny day, you’ve spent most of the day outside.

Mostly working on your yard, but you didn’t always mind. It did get rough sometimes of course, living alone and doing all of the work constantly. You lived in a pretty small house. It had a smaller yard, gravel driveway. It was fenced in. It was nice.

Sometimes the work piled up, getting busy, trying to pull yourself out of a funk. Especially because doing 100% of the work was new to you. Since you’d just gotten out of a serious relationship. It was a tough situation. You’d moved out with your boyfriend at 18. You were together for the better part of your teenage years, your first real boyfriend, the only serious boyfriend you’d ever had.

The break up was miserable and rough. The fights were bad, the messages were vulgar and laced with venom. It was a really rough breakup that left you damaged.

You went from a two person household, to one. Having to work more to pay the bills, having to pick up the rest of the household chores and somehow still stay sane. It was tough, but you managed. You had a few friends that helped you stay busy, and you were thankful for that.

You were sitting on your couch, it was the weekend and you didn’t want to spend all of it doing yard work. Your friends were supposed to be coming over and you were excited to spend the night with them. Just as you finished cleaning up your house, you heard a knock on your door. Knowing that it was your friends, you yelled for them to come inside. They walked in with all kinds of drinks and snacks in their hands, ready to have a good night.

“Dude, your neighbor is super weird.” One of them mumbles. “He wears a mask with like.. a skull face on it.” She mumbles. “Yeah?” You laugh. “Why does that make him weird?” You question her. “That’s all he ever wears. I’ve never seen him in anything else.”

“So what. Maybe he doesn’t want people seeing his face.” You shrug. “Whatever. I think it’s weird.” She shrugs. “Maybe he’s like.. super hot and doesn’t want people to know.” Your other friend smiles. “Maybe. Walk over there and find out for me.” You nudge her. Earning a laugh from them. “You’ve never met him?” She asks. You shake your head. “No. I’ve actually never even seen him, I didn’t know he wore a skull mask.” You shrug. They laugh. Eventually the subject changes.

Later that night as you’re sitting on the couch, you’re all about to go to bed. “What if your neighbor is super hot?” She asks again. “There’s tons of hot people, be specific.” You toss a piece of popcorn at her. “I mean.. what if he’s like super hot. You should talk to him.” She shrugs. “Um. I’m pretty sure he’s like 30.” The other one laughs. “Oh.. well damn.” She sighs. “What’s wrong with him being 30? Why would that stop me?” You ask. They both look at you like you’ve just called them the worst names known to mankind. “Jesus! You whore!” They laugh. “I’m serious! What’s wrong with that.” You giggle. “Just.. not your own age?”

“Maybe that’s why guys suck so bad. Maybe we need to branch out a bit. Go for the weird old guys that wear skull masks.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you. “Maybe.” You smirk. “Nah, I’m not trying anything with anyone. Maybe not ever after Wesley.” You roll your eyes. “Oh please, Wesley wouldn’t see a good girl if he got hit by one.”

“Clearly.” The other rolls her eyes. “It’s just because I wasn’t ready.” You mumble. Earning glances for them. “Ready for what?”

“Sex.” They perk up. “What? You were together for that long and never had sex?”

“No?”

“Why not?”

“Because.. I’ve never had sex before? And wasn’t ready?” You laugh awkwardly. They’re both staring at you in confusion. “Well shit. We didn’t know that.” They laugh. “Damn. Whole new perspective.” They laugh softly.

“Yeah, my poor ‘old’ neighbor probably heard those nasty fights, no way he’d fuck around with a girl like me.” You laugh. “Never know until you try.”

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight you two.” You laugh, walking back into your bedroom. You settle into your bed, eyes heavy as you fade into a deep sleep.

You hear whining outside, it startles you awake.

You look at your phone, it’s early. The sun has just barely risen, it’s still mostly dark. Cascades of blue painting the sky. You sit up, rubbing your eyes as you hear it again. It sounds like a dog in pain.

You climb out of bed, walking out to your living room. You can still hear it faintly. Your friends are still asleep on the couch and you open your front door quietly, peeking outside. It’s cold, chills creep up your legs and arms immediately, maybe a bad time to sleep in a tank top and shorts. You step outside, covering yourself with your arms as you look around for the sound you’re hearing. You notice the noise is louder now, along with rattling. You spot a dog, it’s got it’s paw stuck in your fence. Fairly close to your bedroom, that’s why you heard it.

“Shit-“ you mumble. You jog lightly to get to her. It’s your neighbors dog, you assume the one with the skull mask. “Hey, stop moving.” You mumble as she tugs to free her paw. You hear a door open and close behind you, noticing it’s your neighbor.

And he doesn’t have on a skull mask.

“Shite, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she’d gotten out.” He says as he jogs to you. You can hear the gravel giving away under his feet. “It’s alright. No worries.” You mumble. You unwrap her paw. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.” You mumble. As she whines more. Once you free her paw, she frantically licks at it. “Let me see it darling.” You breathe, reaching your hand out. To your surprise she lies down, rolling onto her back so that you could get a good look at her. Your neighbor crouches down to check the rest of her as you look at her paw. “Just a scratch.” You smile. “Yeah, she’s a bit over dramatic.” The man laughs. “I heard her whining.” You laugh. “Yeah. If I accidentally bump her she’ll yelp like I’ve cut her leg off.” He smiles. His accent is thick and his voice is incredibly deep.

And your friends were absolutely right, he’s hot as hell.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met.” You stand up. He stands up with you, reaching his hand out. “I’m Simon.” You send him a smile. “Y/N.” He smiles. “Ah, and this is my dramatic princess Paisley.” He looks down at her. “Nothing wrong with a little bit of embellishment, gets the attention you need.” You smile down at her. He laughs at this. “Anyways, sorry for waking you, love.” You feel your cheeks warm at his pet name. “No worries, I’m just glad she’s alright.”

“Cmon, back to bed with you.” He nods his head at the dog and she walks with him back to their house. You make your way back to your door, stepping inside. You forget that your friends are there and they stir awake with the sound of your door closing. “Y/N? What are you doing?”

“My neighbors dog got stuck in the fence.”

“Is it okay?”

“Yeah she’s fine. But you were right. He’s hot as fuck.” You laugh. Walking passed them, going back into your room.

—

It’s been a while since you’ve had a day off, picking up extra shifts and doing more and more work so that you could afford your house. It was getting rough. You didn’t see much of your neighbor, aside from passing. He did always wear a skull mask which you found weird. Until you were up early and seen him leaving one day.

He was wearing full military attire, Paisley had on a vest and he was telling her to get into the back of his truck, that’s when it clicked.

His accent, why he was always gone, his large build, the mask. It all made sense now.

Your next day off, you’re sitting in a coffee shop with your friends and they’re making fun of you. It’s a gathering, an every once in a while coincidence that all of you had the same day off. “So what’s going on with everyone else? I feel like I’ve been talking about myself this entire time.”

“Not much.” Everyone mumbles.

“Oh, Y/N’s neighbor is smoking hot, I’m waiting for her to announce that she has a controversially older boyfriend.”

The girl next to you is loud when she says it, earning an elbow to the side from you. “Ohhhh. Tell us more?”

You roll your eyes. “I’ve talked to him once, his dog got her paw stuck in my fence, there’s nothing weird about that. Although he is very, very attractive.”

“It’s weird, he always wears a skull mask.”

“Oh!” You sit up. “I know why. I saw him leaving the other morning wearing full military gear. That explains the accent and everything.” You laugh.

“Accent?”

“Oh.. I forgot to say that? He’s British.”

Their mouths drop, and you can’t help but blush at your spaced information.

“No way, Y/N. If you don’t have sex with that man right now..” she laughs. “Oh god, I am not ready for that. I just got out of a shitty relationship.” You laugh. “Well.. just out of curiosity.” She sips her from her cup. “Just how much thinking have you done about Wesley since you talked to your neighbor?” She teases. You roll your eyes which makes them all laugh. “See!”

“Christ. You guys are ridiculous. I have to go do yard work.” You roll your eyes.

“Look sexy!” She calls out as you exit the building, your cheeks are on fire.

When you arrive home, you look up at the sky, noticing the brewing storm. Maybe today was a bad day for yard work after all. Just as you make your way inside, the rain starts to come down. You sit down on your couch, deciding to watch a show instead.

You lose track of time. You could hear the rain pouring down outside. Thunder making you jump slightly.

A knock at your door has you whipping around. You stand up, slowly making your way up to your door. You open it slightly, noticing your neighbor. He’s soaking wet. “Uh.. hi. Sorry to bother you so late. I just.. have you seen Paisley?” He asks. “Uh.. no I haven’t. Is something wrong?” You ask, opening the door up wider. “I let her out earlier and she never came back in. I think she ran off.” He sighs. “I’ve been looking everywhere and I can’t find her.”

“Let me put some shoes on, I can help.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” He sighs. “No, she’s a good girl, I wouldn’t want something bad happening to her.” You smile. Once you’ve slid on shoes and a jacket, you’re stepping out into the rain.

Ghost notices your tattered old skate shoes immediately. If you’ve got a boyfriend, why isn’t he taking care of you? Ghost knows he’s seen a guy around.

Behind your houses was a huge patch of trees, that’s where the both of you decide to look first. You’re calling out for her, walking along. You part ways when you get into the trees. Calling out for her. You don’t see anything and it’s getting darker as you walk along.

Ghost is somewhere further away by now, he’s calling for her, but she isn’t coming. He stops with a sigh. “Christ, where the fuck are you, fucking dog.” He growls.

“Simon!” He hears you yell. “Y/N?”

“I found her!” You call to him. He quickly makes his way over to you, seeing you’ve got a hand on her collar. “Ugh, damn dog.” He breathes. “Home now!” He says sternly, Paisley bolts for his house immediately. “Sorry. You didn’t have to come out here.” He laughs. “I don’t mind the rain.” You laugh, walking towards your houses with him. “Not real good shoes for bad weather.” He laughs. “Oh psh these? They’re fine.” You wave your hand. “What, your boyfriend doesn’t spoil you?” He laughs. “Oh god, I don’t have a boyfriend.” You laugh. “What? Who was that guy than?”

“Uh.. well. He WAS my boyfriend. But.. it’s a long story.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” He laughs awkwardly. “Oh it’s fine.”

“I’ve got a fire going in my house, if you wanted to dry your clothes out. You could talk about it if you want.” He shrugs. “Uhh. Sure.” You shrug. You follow him up to his back door, he opens the door up for you. You step inside and he shows you to his living room, where he had a pretty wood stove going. Lined with bricks. “Give me a moment.” His house was really nice. You wait before sitting down, not wanting to get his couch wet. “Here.” He passes you a towel and a shirt. “It’s an old shirt of mine.” He nods. “Thank you.” You smile. It’s Army Green.

He shows you to his bathroom and you change quickly, making your way back to his living room. You notice that he’s put your shoes on the tile in front of the fire to dry them out. You can’t help but smile.

He brings out tea and sets it down on his coffee table, sitting in the chair across from you. You pull his shirt down over your knees, making sure you’re covering yourself. Your panties had gotten wet and you had to take them off too. “Why did you guys break up if you don’t mind me asking?” He asks. “Uhh.” You laugh. “I found out that he was talking to a couple other girls. Meeting up with them and.. yeah.” You look down. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He breathes. You smile, looking up at him. He’s no longer wearing his mask.

“Honestly? I thought it would hurt more.” You shrug. “We.. I mean we’d been together for a long time but our relationship wasn’t serious. I didn’t really have any feelings towards the end, not after all of the things he said to me.” Ghost tilts his head. He’s curious.

“Uh..” you shift awkwardly. “I.. this is probably too much information but.. we never.. slept together. I just wasn’t into it, and he hated that I wasn’t. He said a lot of gross things to me.” You shrug. He nods his head. “How old are you?” He asks. “I’m 20.”

“How old was he?” He asks. “21.”

He smiles. “There’s your problem darling.” He laughs. “He’s just.. stupid and immature. I was at that age too. You’re too young to be worried about all of that anyways.”

You smile. “How old are you?” You ask. “32.” Your eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, m’ an old man.” He laughs. “You do not look 32.” You smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He winks.

“You need new shoes.” He nods to them. “Uhhh. Yeah. That has to wait.” You laugh. “Hm?”

“I can barely afford my house, those shoes will just have to do. They’ve done me good.” You smile. You move to stand in front of the fire, crouching to pet Paisley who’s laying in front of it. Ghost stands up too. “How about we check you out, make sure you didn’t get into something.” He breathes, rolling paisley over onto her back. He runs his hands along her fur. Feeling that she’s fine as he stands back up. He towers over you, and now you really feel how close you are to him. “I can help you get new ones.” He nods. “No.. that’s not your job.” You shake your head.

“Course not, you could work for it.” He smiles.

Your eyes widen. “Not- Jesus. Not like that.” He laughs. “Oh good.” You breathe out. “Had me worried for a second.” You laugh. “Got a dirty mind.” he rolls his eyes. “I mean.. if you babysit for me when I’m gone.” He nods. “I usually have her boarded at the base but.. they keep her cooped up a lot there.” He looks down at her. “Simon, I don’t mind watching Paisley. You don’t have to get me anything. She’s a good girl, I don’t mind.” You smile. He nods his head. “Thank you Y/N.” He smiles. “Of course.”

You’re warm from the fire, spinning around to warm your front. He does the same. Looking at the dancing flames through the glass. “Do you have a wife or anything?” You ask. “No.” He laughs. “My job isn’t good for relationships.” You nod your head. “Fair.” He laughs. “Why?” He asks. “I was just curious.” You say nervously. His smile is flirty, and you’re worried.

Not because he intimidates you.

You’re worried by how much you like it.

“You sure?” He looks at you, making you turn your head to look at him. “Mhm.” You smile. He takes a step toward you, making you step back.

Back hitting the wall with a gasp. “Might be overstepping here..” he laughs. “But he was stupid to fumble a girl like you.” He breathes. He’s toying with the shirt you’re wearing. You take in a shaky breath, looking up at him. “Simon.” You start. He tilts your chin to make you look him in the eyes, leaning into you. “Can I kiss you?” He asks. You part your lips, not saying a word. After a second, you nod your head.

He closes the gap right away, kissing you hard.

Your friends were going to freak when you told them.

You feel his fingertips gliding up your thigh and you gasp into his lips as he glides them over your bare opening. “Ah- Simon wait!” You breathe. Pushing him back slightly. “I.. I-“ you’re stuttering, not sure what to say. “I’m sorry, maybe I misunderstood..” he breathes. “No- no it’s not that. I.. I liked it. I just.. I’ve never done this before.” You breath, looking up at him. Your cheeks are burning, because his fingertips touching you is the first time a man has ever touched you like that. And this is only the second time you’ve ever interacted with him. “It’s alright.. I know you haven’t known me long.” He laughs. “No.. I don’t mean..” you clench your eyes closed. “I’ve never had sex before.” You sigh. He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh.. well. I’m sorry I pushed you so hard, I had no idea.” He steps back.

“You didn’t. I.. I liked it.” You swallow hard.

He crosses his arms. “Have you ever been touched.. at all?” He asks. You shake your head. “Have you.. done anything at all? Like.. touched yourself?” You chew on your lip nervously. Shaking your head again. “I’ve tried but.. it’s.. weird.” You bring your hands behind your back. “It’s not weird, not if you’re doing it right.” He looks at you. The room is dark, the lights are dim and the fire illuminates it slightly.

“D-do you think you could show me? W-what it feels like I mean…” You look up at him.

“Yeah, of course. Cmere.” He tilts his head, reaching his hand out for you to take. He walks around his couch, pulling you with him. “Go ahead.” You sit down. “Lay back sweetheart.” He nods. You’re nervous as you lay back. “If you don’t like what I’m doing, if you want me to stop at all, you tell me okay?” He says. “Of course.” You nod.

He pushes the Army Green shirt up over your hips, you’re bare. Wearing nothing underneath.

He glides his hand up your thighs, feeling you shiver as he does. His fingertips gliding over your exposed flesh, rubbing over your opening. When he touches your clit, you flinch away from him. He forgets that you’re untouched.

Sensitive, easily stimulated. He chuckles. “Relax. You’re tense.” He breathes. He moves himself over you, pressing his thigh right up against your opening, hearing a gasp from your lips. He lowers himself on top of you, pressing his lips to yours again. You kiss him sloppily, cheeks flushed, your tummy feels warm as he rocks his thigh into you. You whine into his lips, raising your hips to meet him.

He pulls away from you, kissing your chin and down your neck, pushing the shirt up and over your chest. Exposing every part of you to him. The first man to ever see such sensitive parts of you. He attaches his lips to your nipple, hearing you gasp. You lift your hips into him, wanting more. But he takes his time with you. You’ve never felt this way, never been so turned on before. He finishes showing your nipples attention and moves lower, leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach. You’re nervous as he moves himself between your legs. He looks up at you, leaving a kiss to your thigh. One kiss to your swollen clit and you were done.

You let your head fall back, he pushes his hands up his couch, entwining his fingers with yours as he spreads your folds with his tongue. It takes just a few minutes and you’re crying his name out in the perfect symphony. Your stomach is moving with the way you’re panting and you can barely hold still. He moves his hands away from yours, holding your hips down. Sucking and lapping at your clit, pushing his tongue into you slightly. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. You can feel something building. “S-Simon. Feels funny.” You whimper, lifting yourself up to rest on your elbows. Watching him eat your pussy like it’s the sweetest ice cream he’s ever had.

You feel his fingertips gliding over your entrance, and you gasp when he pushes one inside of you. Curling it right into your spongy spot. You can’t hold yourself together, especially not when he adds another finger, scissoring them. A cry leaves your lips, it’s a desperate moan. Something that tells him that you’re just about to cum. You can’t say anything which is what he wants, he’s cornering you right into pure bliss, leaving you nowhere to go. It feels like your body bursts into flames when he works your pussy to an orgasm. The first of many that he’s going to give you. Your eyes are full of tears and clench shut as he works you through your orgasm. Until you’re sensitive and squirming. He finally pulls away from you, moving himself above you again, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on him. You’re breathing hard when you pull away, looking up at him. Like he’s just killed an army in your honor.

“How do you feel?” He asks. Your lips are parted, you want to say something but you can’t. He chuckles at your trance-like state. “It’s alright. I know it’s a lot.” He smiles, pulling the shirt down to cover you. Pulling you up until you’re sitting up to look at him. “I feel good.” You finally say, cheeks burning. “Good, I hope so.”

Your eyes are lost in him and he says something but you don’t even hear it.

He waves in front of your eyes, chuckling when you flinch away. Shaking yourself out of your thoughts. “You alright, space cadet? I wasn’t too much was I?” He laughs. “No.. no.” You giggle, “sorry.” You blush. “First time is always intense. I get it.” He smiles. Leaning into you. “Can’t wait to see how spacey you’ll be when I fuck that pussy for the first time.”

You swallow hard, eyes clenching shut. You’re quiet.

A laugh is what makes you open your eyes. “I’m only kidding. Relax.” He stands up. “Unless you want me to of course.” He winks at you.

“I know you have work tomorrow, I’m keeping you up.” He laughs. “Let’s get these shoes on you and I’ll walk you home.” He smiles. He kneels down onto one knee, reaching out for one of your shoes. It’s dry and warm.

You’re surprised at first.

He’s actually putting shoes on you, like you’re some kind of princess.

He helps you up, throwing one of his jackets over you and holding your clothes. The storm has passed now, it’s only dark. When you reach your front porch, he passes you your clothes. “I can go change and give you your shirt back.” You stutter when you say. He’s making you nervous. “Don’t worry about it. Keep it. It looks better on you anyways.” He smiles. You blush, looking down. “Thank you, for helping me find Paisley.”

“Of course. I don’t mind at all.” You smile. “Um.. t-thank you for um..”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.” He laughs. “Sorry..” you blush. “It’s alright. Get some sleep.” He smiles.

You smile. “Goodnight Simon.”

“Goodnight Y/N.” He nods. “Oh.. wait. Can I have your phone number? Since you’re willing to watch Paisley for me.” He playing his eagerness off. “Yeah of course.” You smile, walking toward your couch where you had left your phone. You pick it up and walk back to the door where he was waiting, passing it to him. He types his phone number into your phone and sends himself a text with it. “Awesome. Thank you Y/N. Goodnight now.” He smiles.

“Goodnight Simon.”

—

“You seem to be in a good mood LT.” Soap smiles.

“Something going on at home?” He smirks.

Ghost rolls his eyes. “Not now Soap.” He rolls his eyes.

“Who’s the girl, you’ve been checking your phone every 10 minutes.” He crosses his arms. Ghost sighs. “It’s my neighbor. I asked if she’d watch my dog. Stop being weird.” He shoves passed Soap. “Aw Cmon. I’m your friend.” Soap scoffs. “I tell you everything. I’ve never seen you act this way before.”

Ghost sighs. “Alright fine. Yeah, something happened between us and I don’t know what to think of it. But she’s kind’ve way out of my league.” He mumbles. “What do you mean by that?”

“She’s 20.”

Soaps eyes widen. “Jesus. A tad bit young don’t you think.” Ghost looks at him unimpressed. “She’s been my neighbor for a while, I thought she was older.” He shrugs. Soap laughs. “Nah, women just mature way before men do.” Ghost snorts. “Yeah. Well.. what I did with her last night I can’t really come back from.” He laughs. “Did you sleep with her?” Simon shakes his head. “No.. but. I don’t want to talk about it. Paisley got her paw stuck in her fence a few weeks back and I went out to check on her and she was helping her. Last night, Paisley didn’t come back when I let her out, so I stopped by and asked her if she’d seen her and she said no, but offered to help me look for her.” He shrugs. “So.. if you did stuff with her, why didn’t you have sex with her?” Ghost flinches. “She.. uh.” He laughs nervously. “She’s a Virgin.”

Soap’s eyes are wide. “Christ. You’ve got yourself into quite the situation Ghost.” He laughs. “Yeah. You’ll have to see her.” He mumbles. “Take me with you when you drop Paisley off for a mission sometime.” Soap crosses his arms. Simon laughs. “Alright. If you insist Johnny.”

“I’m good at reading people, I’ll tell you if she’s good for you.”

“She’s not good for me, I haven’t felt like this in forever.” Soap raises his eyebrows, a smug look on his face. “That means she’s good for you. You’re supposed to feel happiness.” He rolls his eyes. Ghost laughs. “It’s bad for a man like me. I’ve lost everyone, makes me vulnerable.” He mumbles. “So don’t lose this one.” Soap pats his shoulder.

Ghost shakes his head. “It’s never been in my control. But.. me being vulnerable, means that I can be very dangerous. So let’s hope this goes alright.”

—

“You WHAT?” She yells from the other end of the phone, you can hear her coughing violently on her coffee. “Uh.. yeah.”

“Did you have sex?” She asks. “What? No. He just.. he. We didn’t have sex.” You blush. “What’s gotten into you?” She squeals, making you laugh. “I don’t know. I guess I just really like him.” You bite your lip. “Damn. Who would’ve guessed. A 32 year old in the military is your type.” She laughs. “I know right. I don’t know. He’s.. ugh.” You sigh. “I’ve talked to him twice ever, and he’s already been so much fucking nicer to me than Wesley. I just.. don’t even know what to say.” You laugh. “That’s how you’re supposed to be treated Y/N.” She laughs. “Maybe he’ll be really good for you. Maybe you’ll get married and have a bunch of kids.” She snorts. You roll your eyes. “Whatever. I have to get back to work.” You mumble. “We’re not done talking about this. You’re telling me every detail later.” She mumbles through the phone, making you laugh. “We’ll see.” You say before hanging up.

You bite your lip.

You can’t stop thinking about the night before. What he said to you.

“Can’t wait to see how spacey you’ll be when I fuck that pussy for the first time.”

Your stomach turns and you feel yourself getting wet just from the thought of it. You needed to get your mind off of this. You stand up, heading outside to find something to do.

You’re sure you could find some yard work of some kind to do.

You look around your house, noticing the patch of grass by your driveway was mixing with gravel. You head back inside, changing into more comfortable clothes to do this task. Not paying any mind to whos eyes may be on you. Simon was meant to be at work anyways. You get a rake, raking the gravel back into it’s dedicated location. You needed to plant more grass seed, maybe line it with some spare bricks to keep the gravel away from it. It’d keep Paisley away from the fence to avoid getting her paw stuck. Simon really needed to fence his yard in to keep her inside. Although she was a pretty large dog, she’d probably just jump over it. You’re carrying bricks when Simon pulls up, Soap is in his passenger seat. “Is that her?” Soap asks. “Oh.. yeah. I guess so. I thought she was supposed to work today.” He mumbles. “Guess I’ll get to meet her sooner than later.” He smiles. You’ve got your ear buds in, not paying any attention. “We’re just checking on Paisley, get your head out of the gutter.” Ghost mumbles. As soon as Simon opens the door, Paisley bolts to your house. “Oh Jesus Christ, seriously!” He mumbles. Paisley attacking you with kisses, jumping on you catches you off guard.

“Oh my gosh!” You laugh. Turning your face to avoid her sloppy kisses. Simon and Soap approach, and you’re petting Paisley. “Hi darling, I’m glad to see you’re okay after your great escape.” You smile. When you glance up and see Simon walking toward you, another man behind him. “Thought you were supposed to be at work?” Simon asks.

“Ah, a bunch of offices flooded last night in the storm, mine included. So I’ve got a couple weeks off while they renovate.” You smile. “Ah, paid I hope?” He laughs. “Oh yeah. I would be out looking for another job otherwise.” You laugh. “That’s good though, a nice break.”

Ghost looks at Soap. “We just stopped by to check on Paisley. This is Soap by the way.” He nods. You look confused. “Did you say Soap?” You ask, looking at him. Soap laughs. “My name is Johnny, but you can call me Soap.” He nods, reaching his hand out. You take it, shaking his hand. Ghost feels jealousy boiling through him when he touches you. He doesn’t like that. “Civilians don’t get the nickname, Ghost.” Soap judges him. You tilt your head. “Ghost?” You smile, crossing your arms. “Nice. A weird duo but I like it.” You laugh. “I like the Mohawk too, don’t see that haircut much anymore.” You nod. “Thanks.” He smiles. “Oh no, don’t go giving the bloke a big head.” Simon rolls his eyes. “Whatever, I’m gonna go find Paisley. She’s nicer than you.” Soap rolls his eyes. “Nice meeting you, lass.” He smiles. “Nice meeting you too.” You wave.

Simon lingers behind. “Why’re you not relaxing?” He laughs. You blush, looking down. “Can’t sit down for too long or I’ll think about what you said last night.” You laugh. “Ah. That makes sense.” He laughs. “I can give you something else to think about if you want.” He chuckles. “Jesus Christ.” You roll your eyes.

“I think Soap is getting impatient, Ghost.” You call him by his nickname and he freezes up. He laughs. “Don’t call me that. Not unless you’re moaning it.” He turns to walk away from you, hearing you laugh. Mumbling a ‘Jesus’ under your breath.

—

As he works, training new recruits, helping out anywhere he can, preparing for missions. He thinks about you.

The jealousy he felt earlier with Soap, it worries him. He’s getting too close to you. He knows it. The last time he did this, he got hurt. Irreversible damage to him that he still suffers from. He needs to stay away from you, but he fears it’s too late.

You’re so kind. Naive in a good way almost.

You’re so nice, so sweet. Even Paisley likes you.

He can’t focus on work without thinking about you. Zoning out as he loads everything up. The way that you sounded with his face buried between your thighs, he thinks about how you’ll sound when he-

He groans out in frustration, earning a couple glances. He throws down the wrench he’s holding, cursing under his breath.

Soap and Captain Price exchange a worried glance as he storms off.

Soap can’t help but laugh when he’s gone, the door shut and latched behind him. “Something going on with him?” Captain Price asks. “Yeah, a girl.” He snickers. “Ah. Trouble in paradise?”

“No.” He laughs. “She’s his neighbor and they aren’t.. anything just yet. But I guess he had an encounter with her.” Captain Price nods. “Women. They’ll do that to ya.” He laughs, picking up the box of ammo and walking to the back of the Humvee. “Tell me about it.” Johnny smiles, digging through the box of tools.

Captain Price sets down the box of ammo in the back of the vehicle, swiping his hands off together to get the dust off of them. “Suppose I’ll go talk to ‘im.” Captain Price mutters as he makes his way into the office that Simon had gone into. He opens the door, seeing him sitting at the desk. He’s got a water bottle in front of him and it’s already almost gone. “You alright Simon?” Price sits down in the chair across from him. Hearing Simon sigh. “M’fine Price.” He mumbles. “Johnny told me a bit about your troubles.” He smiles. Ghost rolls his eyes at this. “It’s alright, maybe we can talk about it. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.” He shrugs. “What, is this a therapy session?” He jokes. Earning a snort from his Captain. “I’m serious, I’m a wise old man with a lot of advice.” He smiles, setting his hands in his lap. The dad energy that Price gives off warms Simon’s heart in a way. “I don’t know. She’s my neighbor and she’s a lot younger than me.” He sighs. “I just think I’m going to end up getting myself into something dumb with her.”

“Well.. what’s she like?”

“I.. I mean she’s nice. She lives on her own. She.. said that she just got out of a relationship.” He sighs. “Oh? Did she say why?”

“He cheated on her because she wasn’t ready to… take the next step with him.” Ghost shrugs. “Hm.. do you know anything about her background? How responsible she is?”

Ghost shakes his head. “Not really. I’ve only talked to her twice but the second time.. we were alone and things escalated.” He mumbles. “So.. you had sex?”

“No.” Ghost laughs. “She’s.. a Virgin.”

Captain Price’s eyes widen, and he shifts uncomfortably. “How old did you say she was?” He asks.

“20.”

Captain Price nods his head. “Hm.. well. What does she do in her spare time? Do you know?”

“She.. mostly just works so that she can pay her bills and hangs out with her friends.” He shrugs. “Do you know where she works?” Simon nods. “A bookkeeper for a construction company. She’s worked there since she was eighteen.” He nods.

“So.. she’s got a stable job.. can take care of herself.. she seems really mature.” Price shrugs. “I know it seems weird that she’s so young, but women mature a lot faster than men.” Captain Price nods. “You’re both consenting adults, who are responsible and can take care of yourselves.. I know you’re afraid of being hurt.” Captain Price sits up. “But you’ll never find your forever if you don’t put yourself out there and be vulnerable for others.” He smiles. Simon nods his head. “I know.”

“You’ll have to bring her around, let me judge her myself.” He smiles. Earning a snort from Simon. “Yeah, Johnny said the same thing.”

Price stands up, patting Simon on the shoulder as he goes to exit. “You’ll never know until you try, Simon. Don’t give up just yet.” He nods.

Simon sighs when the door closes behind him. What the hell was he getting himself into.

Later that day, Simon had come home. He didn’t see you and decided to leave everything be for now. Deciding to watch a show and drink a beer. Give himself time to relax, as bad as he wants to spend this time with you. He sighs, hearing Paisley scratching at the door, whining. She’s pacing back and fourth. “It’s probably just a Racoon. Down girl.” He breathes. But she doesn’t calm down. “Paisley, please. Give it a rest darling. I’ve just let you out.” He groans.

Nothing seems to calm her. He stands up, setting his beer down. He makes his way over to the kitchen to discard his empty beer bottles, setting them by his sink. He glances up through his kitchen window for a second, when something catches his attention.

You’re talking to a guy.

Not just any guy either, your ex-boyfriend. Ghost feels himself stiffen up, eyes narrowing as he looks outside the window. It seems as if you’re having a normal conversation with him. Ghost quickly moves to the back door, cracking it open and holding Paisley back as she tries to force her way outside. “Stop, sit.” He growls.

“Look.. I’m sorry okay? I miss you.” He hears him say it. Ghost can feel himself tensing up. "You need to leave. I won't ask you again." You breathe. "And if I don't?" He sighs. "What are you going to do hm? Nobody will come for you. You're just a stupid girl Y/N." He can hear him. He can hear you laugh. "Go." He hears you growl. "I'll tell the neighbor if you don't go." Simon's smile is too wide upon hearing that. "The neighbor? What, are you friends now?" He hears him scoff. "Come on, let's just talk baby, I can take your mind off things for a while."

"Simon!" You yell, Simon stands up immediately, ripping his door open and stepping outside. He can see that he's got a strong grip on your upper arm. When he sees Simon step down the few concrete stairs, he lets go. "Seriously?" He can hear him scoff. "She doesn't need you, go back inside and mind your own fucking business." He growls. Simon makes his way across his lawn, crossing the gravel of your driveway. "She is my business. She is now." He crosses his arms. "And if you want to leave here in one piece, I suggest you get back in your car and drive as far away as you can." He says it casually. "Yeah? Or else what?" He asks, making Simon raise his shirt up over his hip, not only does he expose his insanely fit body and v-line, but there's a pearl gripped pistol sitting in his waistband. A whistle leaves his lips and Paisley bursts out of his house, bolting to stand next to him at attention, staring your ex-boyfriend down. "Go." Simon nods.

He scoffs, shaking his head. "What, you fucking him?" He looks at you, teeth gritted behind his pursed lips, you glance at Simon before looking back to the ground, swallowing hard. "Some virgin huh?" He shakes his head. "This is fucking stupid, don't even know why I bothered with you." He growls. He walks down the concrete path by your door, walking around and climbing into his car, speeding off. "Go home." Simon mumbles to Paisley. "Hey. You okay?" He asks. You nod your head. "Yeah.." You shake your head. "I'm fine. Just.. yeah." You breathe. "Cmon, I'll make you some tea." He tilts his head for you to follow him. You nod your head, following after him. He leads you into his back door, closing it behind you. You notice Paisley laying in her bed in the living room. "I didn't think you'd be able to hear me." You breathe. "Was worried for a second." You laugh nervously. "Paisley was stressed out, kept harassing me. I happened to notice.” He mumbles. “You were listening?” You ask. “Just.. making sure nothing happened. Suppose it’s a good thing I was though.” He reaches up into his cupboard, shirt rising until you could see the Pistol grip.

You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life.

“Simon?” You say, stepping closer to him. “Yeah?” He asks, turning to face you. Once he’s close enough, you lean in, kissing him hard, cupping his cheeks so that he can’t pull away. “W-woah.” He breathes. “Are you okay?” He asks. “Just kiss me.” You pant. He sets everything he has in his hand down, returning his lips to yours and moving you so that he could pin you up against the countertop, feeling you moan into his mouth. He reaches down, grasping the back of your thighs and lifting you up until you’re on the countertop. You rest your hands on the countertop, pushing your hips forward. Like you wanted him.

“What’s gotten into you?” He asks. You pull away, looking at him, reaching forward and raising his shirt up. Getting a good look at his gun. “Nobody’s ever done that for me before.” You look up at him, taking a deep breath. “What? Told some scumbag off?” He laughs. “Defended me.” You breathe. “Seriously? Not ever?” He asks. You shake your head. “Please keep kissing me, Simon.” You whine. He leans into you, kissing you again. Stiffening up when he feels your hand on him through his jeans. He groans into his lips when you palm him hard through them. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” He breathes. “Yes.” You whine. You sit up, reaching with both of your hands to unbuckle his belt.

He reaches down, hand gripping onto the cool metal of the pistol, setting it down on the countertop. Leaning in to kiss your neck as you pulled his belt apart and started on his jeans. You can’t help but glance at the gun as it sits there. You’re starting to realize just what kind of man Simon is.

A strong military man. A guarded one at that. He’s nice but gruff, quiet and observing. And something you’ve noticed since meeting him, since Paisley got stuck in your fence.

He’s protective of what’s his.

“Simon.” You pant. “What baby?” He breathes.

“I want you.” You breathe. “But.. you.. you’re..” he looks down between the both of you.

“Please, I want you to take my virginity.” You whine. Pushing your hips out. He takes in a deep breath. “Are you sure?” He asks. You nod your head. He pushes his pants down his thighs just enough to reveal himself to you, hearing you sigh when you see the size of him. “S’alright. Will only hurt a minute.” He moves closer to you. He tugs your pants down, discarding them to the side somewhere. Seeing all of you once again. He spits in his hand, focusing it on the tip of his cock. “Are you sure? Once I take it, it’s gone.” He breathes. “I trust you. I want you to take it.” You pant. He pushes your legs open, getting a good look at you. “Just relax for me.” Your heart is racing and he can hear it thumping in your chest from where he stands.

“If you let me do this..” he trails off, circling your opening with his fingers again, going to take his time stretching you out before he takes what’s rightfully his. “You’re mine.” He leans into you. Lips ghosting over your throat, right where your jugular vein sits beneath the surface. “Simon.” You breathe out.

“I think I was always yours.” You look him in the eyes, watching him stiffen at your sentence. Eyes darkening as he stares at you. “Fuck.” He growls, gritting his teeth. He presses the tip of his cock up against your entrance, tip pressing between your sopping wet folds. He forces you to look at him, taking his time thrusting every inch into you. He holds your throat, not cutting off your oxygen but just enough to hold you still. When your eyes flick down to watch him sink into you, he growls. “Look at me.” He growls. “Keep looking at me.”

“Simon.. it hurts.”

“I know baby.” He breathes. “S’alright, just for a minute. One minute.” He pants. You’re so tight on him, he can barely contain himself. He finally closes his eyes, sighing out as he bottoms out inside of you, hearing you cry out. He leans into you, holding you steady as he slides out, rocking his hips into you. “It’s alright. I know it hurts.” He takes in a sharp breath, hating that you hurt so bad, but he felt so fucking good. He keeps a slow, steady pace. Letting you adjust to him. He notices a little bit of blood, but it doesn’t bother him any.

“Simon..” you’re breathless when you say it. “Hm?”

“Fuck me.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it, please.” You hiss, pushing your hips into him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tight as he rocks his hips into yours faster, a little harder than before. Pushing your legs up as he slides deeper into you, hearing a gasp leave your lips. “Oh my god-“ you breathe.

He keeps up this pace for a few minutes, letting you get used to him. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

“How does it feel huh?” He pants, voice unsteady and desperate.

“‘M fucking your pussy.” He hisses, feeling you tighten around him. “Took your virginity.” He breathes. “How’s it feel?” He smiles. “It- it feels so good.” You whine. ”I feel so full Simon.” You hiccup with watery eyes. “Yeah? That’s how you’re supposed to feel. Supposed to feel overwhelmed and good.” He chuckles. He rests his hands on the undersides of your thighs, gripping you and keeping your legs open for him. Smiling when he sees you gripping the countertop like your life depends on it. He lifts his shirt up more, showing off more of his toned stomach.

“Fuck!” You cry, letting your head tilt back. He’s picking up his pace, getting you so close. You can feel swirling in your stomach, feeling something building.

A pant leaves your lips and you move up, trying to adjust yourself. “Simon. Feels weird.” You gasp. He lowers his hand to rub at your sensitive clit.

Just a little bit of that and you’re crying out for him. Clenching hard around him, your pussy milking him for every bit of his spunk.

He’s panting hard, moans unsteady as he approaches his orgasm. He’s going to cum hard.

He slides out of you last second, pumping his cock until he finishes on your stomach, groaning out, his body jerking as he finishes. “Oh fuck..” he whines.

After a moment of coming down from your highs, it finally hits you. You’d really just given this man, who’s way older than you, way more experienced than you, who you aren’t even in a relationship with. Your virginity. You’re staring at him with wide eyes as he cleans your skin of his filth, making sure you’re completely clean, even wiping down between your legs. He wants you to be comfortable. He sighs when he sees your nervous appearance. “It’s alright. I know.” He breathes. “Cmon, let’s go warm up by the fire.” He breathes. Lifting you up and bringing you with him to the couch. He sets you down, throwing a blanket over you.

You’re silent for a while. Not nervous or upset, more content than anything.

Simon is so caring of you, and he barely knows you. Which tells you everything you need to know about him. That he’s going to be the best thing for you. That he’ll take care of you. He finally sits down next to you after starting the fire. Throwing an arm around you so that you could lean into his chest. “I’m sorry if I took advantage of you.” He breathes. Hearing you laugh. “You didn’t. I’m a grown woman, I know what I want.” You smile. “Well.. good.” He smiles. “I just hope you don’t want it to be a one time thing.” You mumble.

“I was wondering the exact same thing.” He breathes.

“I know you just got out of a relationship and all but.. you’re mine.”

You smile up at him. “Always.”

“Oh yes, one more thing.” He mumbles, standing up and disappearing up his stairs for a minute, returning back down holding a box.

“Here.” He smiles. You take it from him, confused. “Simon.. I told you not to get me these.” You look up at him. “Open them.”

You open the box up, noticing a brand new pair of shoes. You can’t even imagine how much they probably costed. “Simon this is way too much.” You laugh. “You need new ones, I can help out. Let’s see how they fit.” He kneels down again.

“You’re doing too much for me already.”

He scoffs. “What I’m doing is the bare minimum. You’re just used to below average darling.” He laughs, tying the laces. You can’t help but smile at this.

“Thank you Simon.” You breathe.

“Always.”

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #ghost call of duty #simon ghost riley #ghost fanfiction #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost smut

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sunsburns · 7 days ago

Text

i couldn't help myself and wrote a quick blurb for my girlfriend vi with one eye open (allusions to smut, no explicit smut.)

vi could’ve sworn she had something good going on for her. something consistent. she was so sure she had found it in the pit.

it was there, hidden somewhere in those fights. the way her whole body felt hot when her chest was freezing over. that heat was what she was searching for, the warmth. whether it be the ache in her fists, the blood soaking her bandages, the sweat on her skin or the black paint that's started to stain it.

the ache was consistent, it kept her stable.

besides, the drinks were strong enough to numb it. vi liked the drinks. loved them, really. the drinks weren't going to leave her, drinks weren't going to change.

drink. fight. drink. sleep. drink. fight. drink. sleep.

see? consistent.

the drinks brought a warmth to her, a burning, but warm enough to keep her sane. warm like the way the sun would beat down on her skin in those few weeks she spent in piltover. she liked the sun. vi missed it sometimes. but warm, warm like the way her old cell used to get if she beat that old punching back enough times. warm, similar to the way the tears run down her cheeks. warm, the way your hands used to feel against her skin.

those feather-like touches, tender, as if you were afraid you'd hurt her if you pressed too hard. you couldn't hurt her, you could never hurt violet, no matter how hard you tried. but you still tried not to, even if you knew you couldn't even take her a in fight, it was just your way of nature. you were tender, like a bruise. you were warm, like the sun.

and you used to kiss her the same way. soft lips, warm breath, and how it used to tremble when you got nervous or flustered. the way you used to press your lips on her cheek, smiling at the way you watched the pale skin grow rosy when you pulled away. she'd grin at you, a little dazed, a little giggly, before reaching for you, pulling you close and kissing you deeply.

again. and then again. and again.

she used to kiss you.

fuck yeah, she used to kiss you and that used to cause a fire to roar in her chest. and she loved to kiss you. she loved the ache you put in her chest, the way her heart used to beat too fast. holy shit, she loved to kiss you.

and she used to kiss you over and over again. kissed you sweetly, kissed you with fever. and she'd kiss you until the both of you were breathless. until you're squirming on her lap, gripping her shoulders, nails barely biting the skin but she loved the faint sting nonetheless. she loved the way you were too flustered to ask for what you wanted.

vi loved the way you looked at her whenever she asked you: "what do you need?"

she loved the way the corners of your lips would twitch in annoyance, a scoff puffing from between your lips as your skin warmed up even more. "c'mon, vi."

she used to laugh.

she used to laugh at you, at they way you got shy sometimes, but still bold enough to bring a hand to her face. bold enough to press your thumb against her lower lip, parting it, running it over her teeth before you mumbled, "want you to touch me. please."

she used to never say no to you. vi could never find it in herself because you used to ask so damn nicely.

you were warm, like the way a fire would burn in the winter, glowing embers. she loved your moans, the little cries you made, the faces you pulled, the salty tears she used to kiss away.

you made her feel warm. a warmth she'd been looking for since it was taken from her all those years ago. that similar warmth she used to feel whenever vander closed the bar for a few hours so he could take her, powder, mylo, claggor and ekko to the edge of zaun so they could watch the sun set behind the buildings of piltover.

you made her cheeks warm, her blood burn, and her heart used to ache for you. she used to ache for you.

she used to call your name in low groans, in your ear, just for you to hear. just so you and no one else could hear the way she yearns for you, shaky breaths against your burning skin. no one else needed to hear how she used to say your name like some kind of prayer under your tender touches.

and how tender they were, delicate. you used to treat her that way, when vi was used to punches, blood and broken bones, you treated her delicately, kissed her delicately, lips soft and pillowy, tongue slipping past her parted lips, mouth swallowing her sighs.

vi's hands, rough to the touch, scarred, blood-stained and permanently bruised at the knuckles, used to find a home in your hair, used to curl against strands and tug hard enough to make you whine against her mouth. she loved that sound.

she loved how you were nothing like her.

how even with her unworthiest hand, her lips ready to smooth that ache with a tender kiss, you never hesitated. and you loved her.

and you found a way to keep her warm. you kept her warm.

so warm. so loved.

and to be warm is what vi aches for.

so god be damned if she drinks until that dying fire in the pits of her stomach reignites. because at least those drinks burn. they burn and they blister, and she thinks they might be turning her to ashes but it's the closest comfort to warmth she's gotten since you'd left.

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noroi1000 · 1 year ago

Text

Sex Pollen

Paring: Husband Gojo x wife reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: NSFW (rough sex, blowjob, deepthroat, cum eating, marathon sex, dirty talk, size kink, breeding)

Summary: The curse you were fighting didn't attack, it just sprinkled pink pollen on you. It was irritating. You were hot when you got home. But you felt good. Your husband checked on you right away, wanting to take care of you. He was afraid you were hurt or sick. But you wanted him to fuck you. You had to convince him to do it.

@tohsri there's full version (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

You sneezed as the curse she approached sprayed you with pollen that entered your nose.

You felt more like pollen hitting you than something dangerous.

Especially since it didn't hurt you at all.

The pink pollen that was around your face blurred and disappeared, and then you saw that the curse was standing a few meters away.

It looked a bit like a bee.

But you don't know why, it looked really friendly.

No claws or fangs.

It stood on those skinny legs like an ant. Four feet on the floor and the rest up.

It only had six legs.

But it was big. Maybe a little more than you.

Well, you know it. Your husband is almost two meters tall... So you're used to something bigger than you.

Especially when it comes to him.

Wiping your face, you looked at the curse that just stood there.

The pollen that flew into your face came out of a very lascivious-looking rose a bit under the head of the curse.

Why is everything starting to make you think of sex?

But you can't help that the rose on the curse's body looks like a clitoris...

Maybe it's a coincidence...

Or maybe your mind just got lewd...

You ran closer to attack the curse, but your attack missed as you were again hit with pink pollen in the face.

You spat as it entered your mouth.

You were getting warmer from the effort.

This curse didn't attack at all...

This is supposed to be a semi-grade 1 curse? It doesn't even attack!

It's not aggressive.

It just sprays you with that damn pollen that doesn't even smell or anything. Plus, this pollen is not poisonous! It doesn't do anything to you.

This curse just annoys you, blowing this pollen in your face every time you get close.

Either this curse is just meant to annoy people, or it really doesn't do anything.

You've been exposed so many times. And it's still there, and you get the impression that it's looking at you with shining, innocent eyes.

Perhaps this curse really is innocent. If you're still alive, yes.

A normal curse would kill you right away.

You saw a bee with a flower coming towards you, flapping its wings in a strange way.

You got into a fighting stance.

And the bee slowed down, and began to walk more slowly towards you.

When it was a meter away from you, the curse didn't move at all.

And all of a sudden that damn pollen got in your face again!

You waved your hand in front of your face to dispel it.

You looked at the bee, which seemed to be giggling softly.

You waved your hand with cursed energy at the curse, but it evaded.

Then pink pollen sprayed onto your face again. Fourth time same!

It was looking at you like a dog.

Then it came so close that you jumped back, falling on your ass to keep your distance.

But the curse jumped on you.

And lest you attack, she released the same pollen again.

Fifth time in your poor face.

you were coughing.

"What is this?!" You were about to hit the curse, but then the bee released an incredible amount of pollen at you, which made you a little confused.

You kicked it, and you made it slide away from you.

This curse is really getting on your nerves...

You'd rather it try to kill you than get pollen in your face every time!

As you got to your feet, you saw that curse was dancing!

You ran quickly to land a sure blow.

The bee turned and the regimental cloud made you miss again.

Then again and again.

You were already tired.

You didn't hide your face from the pollen just to hit it in the end and go home.

You've had enough of it.

As the curse released a pollen on you, he swung, but it dodged again.

"Stop moving..." You growled with sweat running down your face.

It came to you. You looked at it and saw a huge pink cloud coming out of the rose.

You swung, and the curse did not escape.

"Have fun."

Wait, that curse says?!

Now you hit. Instantly exorcising the curse with one blast of cursed energy.

There was still that damn pollen floating around...

You've already lost count of how many times you've been hit in the face with that annoying thing.

You felt fine and nothing happened to you.

Except for the tiredness you felt. You were hot.

As if you had a fever. But that's only because of how long you've been trying to hit that curse.

The pollen fell right after you left.

And you walked to the assistant's car with heavy breathing.

"Gojo-san, do you need a medic?" Ijichi asked you.

"Call me by my name. I don't want you to confuse me with Satoru." You said as you got in the car and sat lazily in the back seat.

"(y/n)-san, Everything's all right?"

You looked into his eyes as he looked at you.

"I'm just hot... I'm not hurt. I just want to rest..." You mumbled as you rested your head against the headrest.

"I'll take you home right now. But are you sure you don't need a examine?"

"That curse didn't even attack me! It was just such annoying pollen around that made it a bit difficult to breathe. That's all."

"Okay, however, call me if anything happens. I'll come pick you up to take you to Ieiri-san."

"Thanks... If that's the case, I'll do it..."

___

"How is my wifey~?" You heard your husband's melodious voice as he entered the house.

You knew he'd be back at this hour today.

But you felt good hearing his voice.

Like you're relieved.

You were so hot.

But knowing that he had come made you feel a little better.

Still hot, but better.

You heard his footsteps as he climbed the stairs to come to the room.

You had your head in the pillows.

Your hips were grinding side to side and shaking.

Did you feel like you were getting wet?

Sure, you wanted sex today, but not enough to hear it from downstairs and get wet just from the sound.

Or are you delusional?

Maybe you really have a fever and all you think about is sex?

That voice of his when he says all that lewd stuff...

About his long fingers crawling over your skin, arching inside of you.

About his eyes.

About his lips that kiss you. your body.

Lips that tease you between your legs.

The tongue that licks your nipples.

Tongue that enters your hole so he can taste you.

Your whole husband...

You've been thinking about your husband's entire body...

About everything he is...

"I heard you had a strange mission. Ijichi asked me to check on you right away." he said as he entered the room.

You wanted to tell him: oh yes, Satoru, come to me. Touch me... Grab my clothes and tear it apart. I'm so hot. Touch me. fuck me. Breed me.

You didn't know why those words popped into your mind.

Especially the last one...

But you'd be lying if you said you didn't want it.

Because your thighs tremble slightly when you feel this feeling.

Waiting for him to come up to you and lay his hand on you.

Your thighs tremble when you hear his voice.

You want him to fuck you so much here and now.

Or is it your imagination?

Maybe he hasn't really come home yet?

Suddenly, the bed next to you sagged slightly under another weight.

He may have been wondering why it's so dark in here, since you've covered the windows and also no lights are on. But there was a chance you wanted to sleep.

"How are you darling?" he asked placing his hand on your head.

He hoped you were awake.

You turned your head to look at him.

Your breath trembles at the sight of him next to you in that t-shirt of his that sometimes reveals his arm.

Your legs also trembled involuntarily.

You wanted him to sit between your legs now, not next to you...

"Satoru.... Are you really here?" you asked, extending your hand.

You grabbed the fabric of his pants on his thigh.

He was real...

"I'm here. Why shouldn't I be real? Are you tired?" He asked, laughing at what you said at the beginning.

He rubbed your lower back with his fingers.

It sent very pleasant shivers down your body.

You were so sensitive, weren't you?

Your body reacted even to his presence next to you.

Not to mention his touch.

"Honey, your face is red. Are you okay?" He asked, checking your temperature by placing his hand on your forehead.

"I'm fine..." you said and sat down.

Your hand gripped his thigh tighter.

But he didn't seem to care. You may have just accidentally touched it.

Sometimes he would take accidental touches as your desire to seduce him, and he would immediately drag you to bed.

And now that you were doing it on purpose, he didn't know it...

"Do you need something?"

"Mmm..."

You grunted looking at him.

Suddenly you grabbed his arm and pulled him down, causing him to lie on his back on the bed. But his feet were still on the floor.

You jumped on top of him, sitting on his stomach.

"I need relief..." you moaned as you kissed his collarbone.

"(y/n)–"

"Toru, please... Give me relief. My body is so hot... I want something inside... I want touch... Please..."

He looks at you from behind the blindfold.

You kissed his cheek before your teeth caught his blindfold, struggling to get it off him as your hands were busy stroking his broad chest.

You circled your hips against his belly.

"Please Toru... A bit of relief..." you moaned into his ear.

Suddenly his hands grabbed your shoulders.

"(y/n), You know I'm always want to, but you're sick. I can't do that when you're not feeling well..."

"I feel great! It would be even better if you fuck me now... Toru... Fuck me raw... Fuck cum in me... Just do it... Now... Please..."

"But-."

You felt very good.

But it would be even better if you had his cock now.

"Please~ Toru~ I'm so horny for your fat cock... I want to hear your balls hit my ass... Oh god... I want you to destroy my pussy with that big dick..." You moaned as you planted kisses on his chest.

You pushed the fabric aside and crawled under his shirt, kissing his abs. To put your head on his chest later.

You lowered your hips to rub against his crotch.

Your already swollen and thirsty pussy pressed against his crotch.

"Destroy me... Mark me... Toru ~fill me~. Put as much sperm inside me as you have... Fuck all the time... Now Toru... Give me that hard cock... You like our height difference. You like it when my little pussy takes your monster cock. You love to see me smaller than you. How big your hands are compared to mine. I know my lovely husband has a size kink. You can tie me up, fuck me in the kitchen or in the bathroom. Just fuck me."

When he opened his mouth to say something, you placed your fingers on his tongue, collecting saliva.

You came out from under his shirt.

You shoved your fingers in his saliva under your pants and panties, feeling your hot wetness. You ruined your panties so much.

You rubbed your clit with your fingers, feeling his saliva sticking to your skin.

You put your head on his chest. Your hips twitched.

"Please, Toru, Agree. I'll be a good wife~ I'll take your dick so good. Do what you want with my body. Pour cum on me, fuck me in the ass, gag me, strangle me, bend me. Fuck too deep. destroy me. Arrange me however you want..." You moaned.

You placed your hand, wet from your juices, on his chest for support.

Your fingers were dripping with your wetness.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, pretending he wasn't into it.

He wanted to stop.

Because either way, there's something wrong with you.

His little darling wife would never say anything so lascivious.

He wanted to fuck you, as he always did when he came home.

But circumstances were different now, and he had to take care of you first.

Although there was a chance you might have encountered a sex curse...

But that was unlikely!

But it was so...

He needed to know what was wrong with you first.

So he couldn't succumb to your lecherous words. Even though that's all you said, he wanted to do so much to you.

He couldn't succumb to your movements as you rubbed your groin against his crotch.

He saw your pants get wet.

Your eyes were shining and full of lust.

Almost tearful.

Your face even more red and charming.

Body trembling.

So eager for cock...

"Toru..." you begged.

But this time he couldn't give in, and he couldn't start undressing you right away.

"How am I supposed to convince you?" you thought looking at his face.

Kisses, touching him and you always worked.

Plus that dirty talk.

It must have affected him somehow.

You felt something hard against your clit.

You looked down to see how his slightly hardened cock stood out under his pants.

You smiled.

If he wants to cum, he'll fuck you.

"We can't. (y/n). There's something wrong with you. I need to fix this first. How are you feeling?"

"I feel good... So very good... Your dick is better... How do I convince you? Should I fuck with a toy in front of you? Shall I put your soft cock in me? It's all because of this pollen... Aah..."

"Pollen? What pollen? Is something hurting you?"

You quickly got off of him and knelt between his knees on the floor.

"My pussy hurts when you're not inside me." You put your cheek against his cock under the cloth. "How can I convince you that I'm fine? I feel fine. I'm not sick."

"You had a fever—"

"I'm horny..."

You grabbed the waistband of his pants and undid the buckle.

When you saw him move, you moved faster, tossing the buckle aside with a clatter.

Before he could grab your head, you pushed his pants and panties down, grabbing his semi-hard length with your hand and shoved it quickly into your mouth, going straight to the middle. To hear a satisfied purr from him.

"(y-y/n)..." he moaned.

You slid down on his cock, shoving it all the way down your throat. Which you never really did because he was too big. But now, because you're so horny and because he's not completely hard yet, you held him, warming him in your throat.

You started stroking his balls with your hand.

So ready to pour all over you the cum that accumulates there. Heavy and full.

You held him until he was completely hardened.

Your throat hurt from stretching. You had a gag reflex at times, but you managed to hold it back.

Your nose pressed hard against his pubic bone as you swallowed around him.

Saliva dripped from your chin as he sat in front of you on the bed, looking at the lewd image of your face in tears and saliva, as his whole dick disappeared into your little mouth.

He wanted to stop you, but it was so good...

Suddenly, he ran his fingers along your neck, feeling clearly where the end of his cock was.

He was proud of you.

But he was also terrified that his body didn't want to hold you back.

Your little hands continued to massage his balls so nicely, leaving not a single inch of skin untouched.

You go all over his cock, taking it down your throat, massaging his balls, and you're so wet that if it weren't for your pants, you'd be wetting the floor.

Isn't this the moment of his dreams?

His lovely wife is kneeling in front of him with a whole huge cock in her mouth. And comparing your bodies to each other, anyone would say that you are smaller than him.

You have a tight pussy and he has a big dick.

Or maybe you have such a small pussy because the size of his cock is too big? Maybe that's why you're so tight?

One thing is for sure, he will never let anyone check it out.

Because tonight and tonight you really want him to carve your walls into his shape.

His hands reached to his knees as he watched you pull it slowly out of your mouth.

The heat in your throat started to leave him.

As you get out the tip, you coughed a few times.

And he stood at attention in front of your face, ready for further caresses.

You put your mouth on his balls, sucking on one side, then opened your mouth hard to welcome most of the warm skin between your lips.

You put the length of it on your face, looking at him innocently. You even ignored the feeling of your saliva dripping down his shaft onto your face.

Your forehead with a drop of precum flowing out of it.

But you still continued. As you pulled his now saliva-soaked balls out of your mouth, you ran your tongue all the way to the tip, inserting it into your mouth, and you dug in further, letting it sink back into your throat.

His chest was rising and falling heavily.

Then you pulled him out again, and followed the same path with your tongue to his balls.

Then up and down again.

Until you added your hands on its base to give it more sensations.

Maybe that will convince him?

You twirled your hands on him, same with your tongue.

You sucked it and swallowed it. It was so good.

For him and for you.

He didn't protest. Perhaps because you have adopted a course of action that is very difficult for him to reject.

You were insistent in pleasing him.

He was throbbing and twitching impatiently.

So you put it down your throat one last time, gagging on his thickness as the tip slid down the walls of your throat.

But you swallowed him, again playing with his balls to make him purr with pleasure.

Until it finally exploded in your throat.

You thought you would suffocate or vomit from the very sudden filling of your throat with a thick and hot liquid.

However, you calmed down and waited patiently.

He continued to squirt as you pulled him out, and you let him cover your cheeks white.

Maybe that's why he came so much because it was the best deepthroat blowjob he'd ever had.

He lay down on the bed on his back and his cock followed suit, laying on his exposed stomach.

You sat on his chest, and showed him the inside of your mouth painted white.

"Get you a trash can or a towel to spit out?" he asked calmly.

Not always someone wanted to swallow cum.

You put your finger to his lips and suddenly swallowed.

Feeling the thick heat flowing in your esophagus more to the inside of you.

You ran your fingers over your cheeks, then licked the white liquid from your fingers.

You wanted cum so much.

You don't know why, but you wanted to lick his cum off your fingers and you wanted more.

And so it was.

You wanted more of his sperm.

In you and on you.

"T-Toru..." You groaned, grinding your hips against his chest.

His cock was already at attention as he watched you lick his cum with relish.

"Fuck it..." suddenly he grabbed your body and threw you on the bed.

Ripping off his pants and shirt and then the same with you.

He bent you in half and entered your pussy, starting a long journey of destroying you from the inside out. A journey that aims to satisfy you and shape your walls into his shape.

All evening.... Half the night....

And also one whole next day and also half the night...

You wanted so much from him...

Surely that pollen you were talking about was sex pollen...

You would never take so much sex from Him.

Even he was so tired.

He was so sore.

But because it was so great, he didn't want to stop.

The bed was wet with saliva, sweat, tears, your juices and his cum.

But he was lying there. Glad the curtains are closed.

That day and that night will be unforgettable.

Alternating blowjob and fucking your pussy. Once or twice it happened that he fucked your ass...

But then he went back to your pussy anyway.

You suck him dry that night.

Your body was dripping with his cum.

You had the most white fluids in you.

There's no way you're not pregnant.

But it's your fault. You're the one who begged him to fuck you raw and also breed you.

He opened his eyes to see his hard red dick lying on his belly from all the sex you guys had had.

He slept a few hours and his body still wants sex?

Or was it because your tired but still horny body was still stroking his balls and shaft with your fingertips?

"Toru... One more... one more time..." you muttered, looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

You were as tired as he was.

How much liquid you spilled in this bed can definitely be counted as liters. If it weren't for the bottles of water, you would have died of desiccation long ago.

"The last time... I think it's really the last time..." You moaned.

He studied your face.

And suddenly he waved his hand at you.

By letting you in.

They slid their legs over his hips and you fingered his length into your stretched and cum dripping hole.

He groaned being so sensitive.

But it was nice anyway. Painfully pleasant.

As soon as he was deep inside you, your strength left you completely.

"T-Toru... Can you move? I don't have the strength..." you muttered.

Fluids about your thighs ran like water down the shower wall.

With a grunt, he flipped both of you over and, laying on top of you, began thrusting into you, only to cum with you in a few minutes moaning.

As your pussy milked out of him what his body had been able to produce in those last hours when he wasn't gushing like a fountain of cum.

You weren't as tired as he was.

So when he fell asleep, you left the house thanking him.

You cleaned yourself, but you didn't force his cum out of you.

What's left, let it stay there.

Because you don't regret wanting him to breed you.

You wanted to let him rest after all this.

Your body wasn't tired because you were in control of this powder. And now that everything you wanted to do with this powder was fulfilled, you were satisfied.

So did Satoru.

You went to his students to teach them that day because Satoru couldn't come today.

When you came home smiling, he woke up.

He greeted while standing naked in the kitchen as he ate cookies.

"There's no way I'm wearing anything. Don't even make me." He said, leaning his bare ass against the kitchen cabinet.

"Why?” You asked blushing at the sight of his naked body with scratches from last day. Marks on his neck that he got from you. Scratches on his back.

Your body was worse.

Handprints, hives all over the body, bites.

You had to wear a scarf!

"My dick is dying. You don't know how vulnerable I am because of what you've been making me do for the last day. Fuck, I can't even put my pants on without feeling like my dick is about to fall off!"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #jujustu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x you

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