#so it’s nice that it doesn’t feel that way anymore at least | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inmaki · 1 year ago

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number one sorcerer (and virgin) .

synopsis: req! in which your boyfriend — notorious for boasting about how good he is in bed — turns out to be all bark and no bite (until you give him some guidance, at least).

pairing: virgin!switch!gojo x f!reader

wc: est. 6k?

incl: unprotected sex, pull-out method, lots of dirty talk, a bit of teaching gojo, petnames, manhandling, size kink, clit play, praise kink, edging (himself), teasing, mocking, fingering, oral (f + slight m), cum swallowing

a/n: ty for awakening smtn in me anon it was nice to be writing a full fic again!! hope im not too rusty,, this is straight up filth tho so mdni

back when satoru and you were just friends, he liked to make it very clear to your circle of peers that he wasn’t just good at sex.

no, according to himself, he was some kind of sex god — to match his power level in sorcery, of course.

and obviously, who was anyone to think otherwise? the great gojo satoru; such a cocky and confident demeanour paired with angelic white hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall sculpted body that other guys at the gym double-take at. him..? a virgin? hah! good one.

satoru believes that he’s done a rather spectacular job at keeping his reputation sky-high.

the only problem was.. now he had a girlfriend with high expectations to please.

since the day you’d gotten together — going multiple months strong — satoru was starting to sweat more and more knowing that his rather crucial fabrication was bound to be brought up sooner or later. you had your needs just like him, and satoru wouldn’t blame you if you were a bit worried about why he hasn’t initiated anything; y’know, since he was supposedly eros in human form and all that.

little did you know your boyfriend felt equally frustrated. for slightly different reasons.

“bro, it’d be hot if she was a virgin, but me?!” flopping back against the armrest, gojo lets out a theatrical groan while his best friend — the only other person to know of his dark secret — snickers against the cushions nearby.

“everything’d be fine if you didn’t pretend to be some incubus that makes girls cum with a snap of his finger,” geto quips unhelpfully.

satoru lifts his head, sneering when he realizes that the raven-haired man was much too busy scrolling on his phone to notice how he’s resting a pair of dirty shoes on his white couch. “that would be pretty cool..” when he only receives a disgusted glance, he huffs, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable as his thoughts wander further. “how’m i even gonna tell her? what if she doesn’t trust me anymore?”

at last, suguru looks up with a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “you know y/n isn’t like that. just.. wait for her to initiate something and go with the flow,” he advises, lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“you find a way to be good at everything, anyway, toru. she’ll be begging for you in no time.”

as usual, geto knows him too well, because those last few words have gojo shooting up from the sofa with a grin. “ya think so?”

“hell yeah, man.” the two idiots end the discussion by dapping each other up, a confident gleam in both of their eyes.

only a couple days later, satoru discovers that going with the flow isn’t as easy as suguru advised. with your plush lips sucking his bottom one through occasional moans, along with a delicate pair of nails scratching perfectly at his undercut, he already felt himself getting breathless and aroused like a teenager.

perhaps you’ve put him under a spell; how is it that he lasts through prolonged battles while barely breaking a sweat, but having your cute hand move to rub up on his abs and pecs send his nerves into overdrive? it wasn’t like making out wasn’t uncommon for the two of you, this time it just felt so passionate with the way your hips moved to straddle his, tongue practically begging for entrance while the movie on screen was left long forgotten.

gojo can’t help but groan as your muscle explores his mouth, core ever so smoothly grinding on his bulge and igniting heat through his entire body. even as you pull away to take a breath, his grip on your waist remains stable as if you’d disappear at any moment— growing even tighter with the way you bore into his eyes hungrily. “satoru..”

your unusually seductive voice makes him audibly gulp. “y— yeah?” he whispers, glancing to the hand thats now moving down over his grey sweats. shit, this was too much, was he dreaming? he should do something, pinch himself before—

“touch me, please?” as you voice your request, you squeeze his dick so nicely that satoru swears he nearly explodes in his boxers.

he swallows, words getting lost in his throat. “i— i uh...”

for the first time in history, satoru has been rendered speechless, and you visibly panic at this realization. yet when you try to carefully maneuver off his lap and give him space, the clutch on your waist intensifies. “what— are you okay? what’s wrong?” you murmur, brows creasing with concern.

though you never brought it up, satoru’s worry about your confusion was correct; you’d been expecting him to jump your bones a week into your relationship, but seeing how he never forced anything and remained respectful was cute.. at first. after a month of rejection and being pushed away whenever things got too heated, insecurities were bound to start brewing inside you.

he better have a damn good explanation.

“i’m fine,” he reassures, “it’s just— i should probably tell you something..” refusing to meet your eyes, the sorcerer resorts to drawing shapes against the skin under your t-shirt. in other situations, this would feel soothing, relaxing even — but currently, his lacking and lingering touch made you want to rip the hairs off your head.

all you wanted was to finally get a taste of your steaming hot boyfriend. what could he possibly need to say right now? you ponder, hasn’t he been dying to finally show off how amazing he is in bed?

“yes..?”

“it’s actually a funny story, ahaha..” he stalls, chuckling nervously as you turn his jaw to make eye contact. a feeling of impatience and neediness pulls through you, but you contain yourself with a deep breath.

“spit it out, satoru.”

there was no going back now, right? “so.. i’ve uh— i’ve never actually done this before.”

you blink.

“you’re a virgin?”

it was difficult to believe your own words; it sounded wrong no matter how hard you tried to wrap your head around it. satoru being inexperienced? the satoru with a rock hard 6 pack? the satoru with biceps that bulge out of his shirts and a face sharp enough to be sculpted by aphrodite herself? your satoru?

it sounded ridiculous, but the ugly pout rising across his lips tells you that it wasn’t a prank after all. “hey, don’t call me that, now it sounds way worse!”

a sigh escapes your lips, arms folded across your chest. “so all those never have i ever games and stories you told about one night stands were— mph!" before you know it, a large hand is covering your mouth.

“listen, how about we talk about this after having some fun?” a surprisingly determined gleam shines in your boyfriend’s icy blue eyes, making your thighs clench together in excitement.

who were you to say no to that?

—

next thing you know, pillows support your back as a shirtless satoru lies directly in front of your clothed crotch, hot breath making you wiggle around impatiently.

“jus— just take it off me, toru. so damn slow—“

“baby,” he scolds, looking genuinely upset, “this is my first time seeing a pussy in real life and you’re ruining it with your lack of patience.”

you can only roll your eyes and groan, head flopping back against the cushions in boredom. there was no way to predict how satoru’s first time would go, but you never expected it’d be this agonizing on your end — nor that he’d be so bossy.

though luckily, after another deep breath, your panties are gently tugged down your legs, and satoru can only inhale as he watches your poor hole clench around nothing. it only made sense that after all that dry humping and making out that your neediness increased, and it didn’t help that you could clearly see the way satoru was not only rock hard, but much bigger than average through his grey sweats.

“ooh.. oh shit..” like the invasive pervert he is, satoru moves even closer to the point where your thighs rest on his muscular shoulders before taking two fingers to spread your lips apart. this way, he has a clear view of the place that needs him most, and it makes a furious blush blossom on your cheeks.

“s— satoru.. what are you doing?” now you felt like the virgin, desperately attempting to shut your legs with no avail. damn this big idiot and his strength.

suddenly, his piercing eyes snap up to you, a feral look in his gaze. “shit, how’m i gonna fit in this little hole?”

you can’t deny the way his dirty words does something to you — not that you’d ever admit it. “that’s why you gotta prep me, toru. y’know..” you gulp, “fingering, or like.. eating me out.”

in response, you get a cheshire grin. “sounds fun. show me how you do it, sweets.”

“w-what?”

satoru leans back, attemping to hold in a mischievous smile. “how else am i gonna learn?”

even masturbating alone makes you flush in slight embarassment, so doing it in front of someone else — your cheeky, shamleess boyfriend no less — had you drowning in nerves. the bigger problem was that his words held a strong point; you’re supposed to be teaching him for his first time and ensuring it’s as enjoyable as possible.

these reminders make you mumble out a gentle fine, breath stuttering as you spread your legs further for the man in front of you.

satoru is now resting his weight on the palms of his hands, looking laid back and relaxed, but evidently still focused at the way your fingers move to unclasp your bra with skill. “damn..” as your tits are freed, he finds himself needing to adjust his sweatpants and nearly letting out a pathetic noise you would definitely tease him for.

you gulp, trying to ignore his blatant gawking. “it’s good to.. y’know, tease a bit before getting straight to it. makes it feel better — for me, at least,” you explain while massaging your chest, hiding surprise at the way he sternly nods in understanding.

now that you think about it, something tells you this is the most focused satoru has ever been in a learning environment.

after a bit more pinching and fondling, your hands slide down to your stomach and thighs, trying to get your breathing to relax. having gojo watch you do something so private was.. surreal, but you know for a fact you’ve never been this wet before, if that meant anything.

once you finally move down to your most intimate part, satoru takes a deep breath. he watches as you use your fingers to reveal a small bundle of nerves, pulsing and desperate for attention. “this is the clit, toru. s’very important.”

his eyes light up. “oh, i know that one!” he announces proudly, “i remember suguru saying i have to.. uh, worship it or something.”

you snicker at the thought of geto giving out sex pointers. “mhm, sometimes penetration isn’t enough, so you need to give it attention or i can’t really finish.”

gently, you start massaging the bud in circles, humming at the feeling of finally getting some type of relief. you move down to your hole to collect some of your wetness before bringing it back up, letting out a moan in satisfaction.

the way satoru licks his lips as you finally plunge a finger into your wetness has you shivering, but you remind yourself that for now, this was simply a demonstration and that you’d get a taste of him later.

after adding another, you attempt to reach your sweet spot by curling upwards, but it seems that even your hopelessly inexperienced boyfriend could tell that it was getting nowhere.

“aw,” he pouts teasingly, “lil’ fingers can’t reach anything, huh?”

“shut— shut up, satoru.”

before you know it, he’s moved onto his stomach again, face to face with your pussy and gripping your now soaked fingers. “you use these pathetic things when y’masturbate, huh? imagining my dick while having such tiny fingers up your cunt? kinda offended, babe..”

you feel your tummy flip, where did he learn to talk like that?

“do you have to be so vulg—“ you’re cut off by a choking gasp as a warm, wet muscle licks a stripe from your hole all the way to your clit.

“thanks for the lesson. ‘think i got it from here,” is all satoru says before he’s diving in, slurping up as much of your essence as possible before latching his plush lips right onto your poor little clit.

you can’t help but wiggle around at the jump in stimulation, but that only lasts about five seconds before a muscular arm presses you firmly against the mattress, rendering you trapped and unable to escape to his ministrations.

“hey, slow down!” your words are coincidentally yelped out right as he wiggles a much bigger finger into you. it explores your insides eagerly, caressing and feeling up what satoru believes will be his new favourite place.

“wow..” sluuurp, “so warm n’ soft in here..” he happily mumbles against your pussy. the vibrations of his now deeper voice shoot through you like electricity, eliciting another choked whine from your throat.

it felt like he was just toying with you; looking way too content drinking up everything you offered, fluid rushing down his chin and nose pushed firmly against your pelvis to inhale your scent.

suddenly, he’s jabbing his fingertip right into that pocket of sunshine that makes your eyes roll back, a loud whimper leaving your throat before you could stop it. “satoru, right there!” he swiftly seperates from your clit just to mumble out a here? in confirmation, prodding your sweet spot over and over in record breaking speed.

when you nod, he grins smugly, now adding another finger to stretch you further. “mmmph, this is pretty fun. could lie here all night.”

luckily, you barely process his words, much too busy enjoying the best finger-fuck of your life — and this was only his first time, you remember, what will the bastard do to you once he’s got some practice in?

a shaking hand tumbles into his snowy locks, attempting to pull him back weakly. “wait, m’gonna cum, toru—“

gojo growls almost animalistically, tugging your hand back onto the sheets. “then fuckin’ do it,” he demands. “c’mon, i’ve earned it, right?” then, he sucks even harder, fingers slamming and curling and making the loudest squelch you’ve ever heard.

“see?” he continues, “lil’ cunt wants to cum so bad for me. knows who 'er owner is already.” his filthy words definitely take part in the way your orgasm hits like a train, body shaking and toes curling as you let the feeling of bliss take over you. you flinch at how swiftly his tongue licks up everything you give him, the fingers in his hair tugging harder in overstimulation.

“toruuuuu..”

he simpers, tasting his cum-covered lips. “yeeees?”

“this— this is your first time, i should be making you feel good.”

slowly but surely, your eyes reopen, meeting your boyfriend’s relaxed gaze as he rubs your thigh affectionately. “dunno what you’re talking about, i felt pretty good just now.” when you only pout further, he snickers, pushing some of his bangs back smoothly. “c’mon, there’s lots of time for you to get me off later. m’ too excited for the main event..”

at last, he reaches for his sweatpants, more than excited to tug them down and finally give his aching cock some freedom. satoru doesn’t think he’s ever had a more painful boner in his life, but it was all worth seeing you release all over his tongue and fingers.

right as he finishes untying the knot, pale fingers drifting up to the waistband, you’re smacking him away to make room for your own hands. he watches with an open mouth as you pull his boxers down along with his pants, leaky, hard cock springing free and nearly hitting you in the face.

shit, of course his dick is perfect too. with a bit of white hair at the base, bulging veins adorned the entirety of his massive length, and the tip — shit, the tip was even bigger than the rest, mushroom shaped and angry red. his balls looked equally agitated and full — the epitome of breeder balls, and you gulped at the thought of him filling you up with everything they had.

now his question from earlier made sense, and he seems to be enjoying the realization on your face from his spot kneeling on the bed. “like what’cha see?” he coos, one big hand lowering to relieve the aching in his balls.

“toru, i don’t know if you’ll even fit. why— why do you have to be so big?” it’s annoying, you want to say — but the white-haired man has already laid back and manhandled you onto his chiseled stomach, a yelp escaping you at his suddenness.

he’s smiling so hard at your little dilemma that it’s almost sick, hands resting behind his head cockily. “tell me more while you ride me, baby.”

after processing that all you’ve been doing is feeding his size kink and inflating his already massive ego, you frown. “i’m serious, toru!”

“what!? i’m serious too!” the man defends with fake innocence, blue eyes shining in glee. “you’re the expert here, remember? ‘supposed to be teaching me how it’s done.”

all you do is grumble whilst moving down to sit between the sorcerer’s thighs, lightly prepping him with your fist and a dribble of spit from your mouth that has the white-haired male biting his lip. “fuck..” satoru can’t recall how many times he’s masturbated to the mental image of this exact moment, but now that it was finally happening, he promised himself to savor it as much as possible.

when you move to finally straddle him, hole hovering just above his length, he begins bucking his hips up desperately. “hurryyy…”

“are you in heat or something?” you snort, giving him a dirty glare as if you weren’t about to let him inside you.

“for you? yeah.” satoru offers you a cheesy wink and grin that dissipates the second your warmth encloses his aching tip. his hands slowly move up to grip your waist, jaw clenching in an attempt to not slam you down to his balls right then.

“ngh… fuuuck, baby,” he groans as you ever so carefully move down another inch. “jesus.. you’re sooo damn tight. dunno’ how you’re even taking me..”

you squeeze your eyes shut in attempt to bare the discomfort for him, a slight crease growing between your brows. “satoru, fuck— hurts..” he immediately reopens his eyes in worry, searching for a way to take your pain away.

yes, he could already tell that he enjoyed being meaner with you in bed — but it’s never fun if you don’t feel good as well. though he luckily recalls your lesson from earlier, moving a soft thumb down to massage your clit in tight circles.

when you jolt and nearly faceplant into his neck, he only grins proudly, now using one veiny hand to help push you further onto him. “theeere we go.. aw, feel better?”

“mhm, feels full..” you mumble back, looking down to see that you — unbelievably — still had a couple inches to go.

satoru feels like he’s about to burst on the other hand, thriving in pure ecstasy at the feeling of your walls massaging him just perfectly. he can’t help but thrust up and force his last inches inside you, an echoing smack! of skin against skin singing through the room and eliciting a startled yelp from your throat.

“toru!” despite your scolding, you can’t deny the perfection in which his tip kissed your g-spot effortlessly. his hands felt ever so soothing, comfortingly running up and down as you sat impaled on his cock, wiggling around to get comfortable and ruining him in the process.

just as you start to adjust, you feel yourself being lifted up. “m’ sorry sweets..” gojo suddenly voices, “i can’t..”

“huh? what do you m—ah!” you’re flipped onto your back before you know it, knees resting on the shoulders of your boyfriend who has a gleam in his pupils that you’ve quite frankly never seen before; he looked feral.

satoru carefully pulls out until only his tip is encased in your warmth, and everything is calm for a moment. you both take a deep breath, and he smiles down at your already fucked-out face with pride. “satoru—“

then he’s pushing back in with all the strength his massive hips can produce, and you think if it weren’t for his hands wrapped around your thighs, you would’ve got pushed off the bed entirely. you unintentionally let out the loudest sound of the night, and this sets him off.

now he was getting brutal, bullying your cunt with hit after hit against the spot that has drool dripping down your cheek and eyes crossing. you can’t even stop the pathetic noises and symphonies of right there! that leave your lips, no matter how hot your cheeks flush in embarrassment. it felt as though every time his dick jabbed back in he was right up in your tummy, veins pulsing and ensuring your pussy is molded to the perfect sleeve for him.

“toru, shit— nghh, faster, please! feels s’good!”

“nghh, toru, faster! ahaha..” he mocks you — of course he does, but picks up the pace nonetheless — now holding your lower body up so that your knees dangle higher over his shoulders and each stroke is angled exactly where you want him. “so cute when you’re gettin’ stuffed full, baby.”

he leers as you send him the harshest expression you can manage, reaching down for your clit and giggling as you start squirming in an attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure. this bastard is having way too much fun, you realize, moans being forced out of you almost tauntingly.

tonight you discover that satoru’s way of fucking is rather animalistic, frantic, thrilling, and with the sole purpose of making you both feel as good as possible. if you want him to go slow or make love to you, you’d probably have to ask beforehand — or perhaps tie him up so you could have your fun in peace.

if your insides weren’t being rearranged, you’d grin at the thought of your boyfriend restrained and at your mercy. another night, you promise yourself.

“tightest pussy ever f’my first time baby.. haah.. can’t believe i’ve been missin’ out on this.” for once, something praising comes out of his big mouth, breathes getting cut short every time you involuntarily squeeze him harder. he swears there’s no better feeling then what you were giving him right now, not even singlehandedly resurrecting himself using the reversed curse technique.

and while no injuries have ever left a scar on gojo satoru, he decides that the claw marks you’re ruthlessly digging into his back will stay as long as his body allows — why should he hide how good he’s made you feel despite being a virgin an hour prior?

maybe if he’s in the mood to brag, he’ll show them to suguru later.

“feels good toru, fuckin’ me so good,” you feel the way his whole body reacts to your praises, a deep growl melting from his lips as the sounds of skin slapping increasingly grows in volume.

“babyyy,” he pants, legs being held higher while he digs deeper into your guts, “m’gonna cum.. need you to cum with me.“ the twitching of his length inside you gave away the fact that gojo has practically been on the edge ever since he pushed into you — and while he knows it’s completely normal to cum prematurely on your first time, when has he ever not gone above expectations?

in a split second you’re flipped onto your hands and knees, veiny hands pushing you into a deep arch while your boyfriend gives his body a moment to relax, pinching his base (a rather perverted method he’s learned by edging himself while masturbating) between his thumb and pointer.

when you needily wiggle your hips in an attempt to find his cock again, he grins boyishly. “lookin’ for this?” he sings the words right before plunging his entire length back into you, abusing your g-spot while a lanky finger impressively finds the bud between your legs right away (a skill that most ‘experienced’ men you’ve previously been with fail to achieve), circling and pinching in a frantic attempt to make your orgasms arrive in sync.

“fucking hell.." you whine, the new angle making his tip bump against spots that have never been rubbed before. “can feel you so deep..”

“oh yeah?” his bicep pulls you up so your head rests on his broad shoulder, now victim to the filth being whispered directly into your ear. “m’ i doing good? fuckin’ this lil’ pussy nice and deep like she needs?”

when you nod, he beams like a maniac, seemingly encouraged to pound you even harder as his hips pick up the pace. “damn, ‘think i’m already a pro at this, huh?”

for the sake of your sanity, you ignore his bragging. “toru, don’t stop. i’m— i’m gonna..”

“you’re gonnaaa?” he derides, kissing the corner of your lip sweetly. “tell me, baby.”

“gonna cum for you, please.” satoru almost decides to fill you up at those words, but his self control is just a bit stronger. he feels the way your cunt is pulsing, body practically shaking as you get closer and closer to release, and he’s determined to help you reach it.

his thrusts get a bit sloppier, and you’re too busy basking in your own pleasure to see the eye-candy that is gojo biting his swollen lips, sweat dripping down his temples all the way to his solid abs, snowy bangs a tad bit moist against his forehead. he looked like the definition of temptation; straight out of a wet dream with stamina that seemingly never declined.

“me too, baby. c’mon, cum on this dick. s’all yours to ruin.”

you moan as you allow yourself to let go, toes curling and nails digging into his toned forearms ecstatically. “thaaat’s it, good girl.. ahah.. such a good girl f’me.” he talks you through it as if he’s done so a million times, both of you looking down to watch your release coat his dick and the crumpled sheets below.

at his praise, you squeeze him just a bit tighter, making his lips curl up in interest. “my girl likes being praised, huh? yeah.. doing so good makin’ a mess on me..”

he pulls out, carefully lowering you to the mattress before tugging on his dick in hopes of reaching his own peak. satoru forces himself to open his eyes just enough to admire the view of you fucked out below him, body shaking slightly as you recover from the intense waves of your orgasm.

“y/n,” he abruptly whines, patting your shoulder with a subtle urgency in his voice.

“..mhmm?”

“where can i cum? quick baby— please, i’ve been holding this for way too long—“ this has your body moving, eyes popping open as you swiftly bend down so your mouth hovers directly in front of him.

you replace his fist with yours as soft lips move to suckle harsly on his leaking tip, and now it’s gojo who has his eyes rolling back; whimpers flying out of his throat every time your tongue massages the delicate underside, sending visible shocks through his body. “fuck!” he can only curse and run his fingers through your hair for support while you pump him dry. “just like that, good.. haah.. good fuckin’ girl, shiiit.”

you’ve never seen your boyfriend — the strongest — look so pathetic and desperate, but it only spurs you on further, enjoying the way he continues to blabber about how pretty you are and how he’s gonna fill your mouth like he would your pussy. in response, you greedily hum around him, licking through his slit as if you were pleading the little hole to give you what you deserved.

and only moments later, satoru’s words become reality; though he attempts to keep revelling in the feeling of your warm lips and hands, his body stills in place instinctively, one last warning tumbling out of his throat as your mouth is flooded with rope after rope of bitterly sweet fluid.

it seems like your accusations about his breeder balls were correct, because once it starts it seemingly never ends; cum now overflowing from the corners of your lips as you struggle to swallow frequently enough to not choke on how much he deposits.

meanwhile, gojo feels like he is quite literally ascending, everything becoming unimportant next to you and the feeling of pleasure being forced through him like an overwhelming earthquake, pulse after pulse as you suck him for all he’s worth.

“thas’ right.. take every damn drop, baby.” when satoru looks down and earns a glimpse of the white fluid trickling down your chin, his dick twitches in your mouth. “god, you’re so sexy..”

once he was done, you both flop onto the bed in exhaustion, and while the vulnerable moment has utmost potential to become something cute and memorable, a certain blue-eyed bastard decides to open his mouth once again.

“what’re you huffin’ and puffin’ for?” he sasses, shamelessly eyeing the way your tits rose and fell with every breath you took. “all you did was lie there while i had a full body workout!”

you take a very deep breath. “i just let you put your dick inside me. shut the fuck up.”

at your reminder of what’d just occurred, he grins like an idiot. “you’re right, thank you.” they’re soft, but he ensures his words are as audible and genuine as he can make them.

satoru isn’t exactly the best with words, but he knows damn well that — despite all the bullshit he'd spouted at those parties — you’re the only person he wanted to have his first time with, and the fact that you allowed his wish to become reality is something he’ll forever be grateful for.

“i love you..” you soften. “even if you’re a pillow princess.” you stiffen again.

nothing could stay lovey-dovey with him for too long.

a fake cry is pulled from his lips as you rudely smack his shoulder. “i tried to ride you but you flipped me over after ten seconds!”

“it’s not my fault you're as slow as a fuckin' snail!”

somehow, you both make it to the washroom despite all the banter. just as you bend over in hopes of starting the shower up, a mean spank is delivered to your ass.

when you turn to meet the culprit, he only narrows his eyes at you playfully. “round two, m’lady?” it’s almost like his voice lowers on purpose, dirty words rumbling in his throat, knowing what it did to your body.

you do your best to send him a disappointed glance anyway. “day one of not being a virgin and you’re already the horniest man i know.”

after following you inside, his fluffy hair flattens from the steamy water before nudging you back, encasing you between him and the solid wall.

“i might be willing to overlook the fact that you know other horny men if you agree to some very loving, extremely intimate making out,” he requests with a smirk, sleek nose poking yours in a much gentler way than expected.

you still send him a distrusting raise of your brow. “only making out, huh?”

the dirty smirk he sends you is all you need to know, along with his hardened dick pressing against your thigh as he moves in to kiss you.

what have you gotten yourself into?

mlist! gojo showing off his back scratches! <- if you enjoy silly virgin gojo pls lmk in the reblogs, comments, or asks <3

tags: @gojoallmine @allofffmypeaches @haitaniholic @pandoraium

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urmum-lovesme · 2 months ago

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Bunny (P3)

Rafe Cameron x Maybank!Reader

summary: Struggling to keep her and JJ’s home afloat, Y/N turns to the only option that guarantees fast cash- stripping at a club on the Cut. But when Rafe Cameron catches her in the act, he sees the perfect opportunity to tighten his grip around her life.

a/n: Here comes more time at the cluubbb. Rafe is more of a dick in this than in the last one ngl (ik she want that dick tho). Also her and jj- my heart she's literally his mother figure stop.

warnings: mentions of drugs, smoking, drinking, a strip club, naked women, drug dealing, aggressive behaviour, black mailing.

(P1) (P2) (P3) (P4) (P5) (P6) (P7) (P8) (P9) (P10) (P11) (P12) (P13)

The bass thrummed through the club, vibrating up through the floor and into her bones but she barely noticed anymore. The neon lights and the low murmur of conversation, all of it was just background noise now.

She was draped across the lap of one of her regulars, a middle-aged man named Daniel who always paid well and tipped even better. His hand rested on her thigh, fingers just barely brushing against the hem of her skimpy skirt which didn’t even cover her ass, and she giggled at something he said- some stupid joke about how his wife would kill him if she knew where he was. ‘Most likely’ she thought to herself. Y/N traced her nails lightly over his shoulder, tilting her head just enough to make him think he had all of her attention.

"You always know how to make a man feel special sweetheart"

Daniel mused, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His wedding ring glinted under the dim club lights. She had to push down the small tug in her stomach and just smirked, leaning in so her lips ghosted just past his ear.

"That’s what you pay me for, isn’t it?"

Daniel let out a low chuckle, his hand slightly patting on her thigh,"Worth every damn penny."

She smiled at him- sweet, teasing, practiced- and her eyes flicked toward the entrance for a split second, scanning the room without making it obvious.

Just another night - just another guy.

Daniel's fingers trailed absentmindedly along the bare skin of her thigh, the warmth of his touch barely registering beneath the practiced detachment she had perfected over time. He took another sip of his drink, eyes raking over her with appreciation.

"You should let me take you somewhere nice one of these days"

He murmured, voice thick with whiskey and the kind of confidence only alcohol could provide. Y/N let out a soft laugh, she loved living into their fantasies- it always entertained her most- not to mention it gave her the best tip. Tilting her head to the side as she traced slow circles over his chest with her fingertip. She teased, voice sultry but laced with amusement.

"Oh yeah? Think your wife would be okay with that?"

"She doesn’t have to know."

He grinned, a little too smug and she couldn’t repress her smirk, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Mm, tempting," she purred, shifting slightly in his lap, feeling the way his breath hitched at the movement.

“But I think you like to hide me right here..."

"So smart, aren’t you?"

Daniel exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. She only smiled, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear. And just like that, his hand slid up, tucking a few crisp bills into the thin waistband of her panties. The sensation of paper against her skin was familiar, almost comforting in a strange way. He always paid well- one of the few reasons she tolerated his lingering touches and lazy smiles.

"That’s for being my best girl"

He said, his fingers brushing against her hip before dropping away. She glanced down at the stack peeking out from the band of her panties, counting the edges in her head. A few hundred at least. Good. Y/N leaned in closer, her lips just shy of his ear once more.

"You keep treating me this well, Danny, and I just might start believing you,"

She whispered, her breath warm against his skin. He chuckled, a deep, indulgent sound, before finishing off the rest of his drink. But just as she was about to shift, reposition herself to make him forget about everything except her and what he had left in his wallet, that same shift in the air from earlier prickled at the back of her neck- and then she felt it.

A gaze.

Heavy, unrelenting, watching her from across the club. Y/N had felt the weight of his stare before she even turned her head. It was always like this. Like some sixth sense, a quiet, nagging feeling at the back of her mind that told her exactly when Rafe Cameron was watching her.

And lately, it was all the damn time.

Her gaze flickered over to where he was sitting- Rafe, lounging in a booth with Barry beside him, the two of them deep in conversation. Barry was grinning, talking what appeared sluggishly, but Rafe wasn’t listening. His sharp blue eyes were fixed on her, the dim glow of the club reflecting off them in a way that made her stomach twist. She rolled her eyes, not even trying to hide it.

Of course he was here again.

Ever since he and Barry started coming around more often, their business booming, Rafe had made it a point to lurk in the background of her nights. She never knew if it was just to get under her skin or if he actually had some purpose behind his actions- which she doubted. Either way, she was sick of it. Turning back to Danny, she let her fingers run over his collar, her nails lightly scraping against his skin as she leaned in.

"What do you say we take this somewhere a little more private, hmm?"

"You‘re a naughty girl Bunny"

Danny grinned, already pulling out his wallet. Y/N just forced out a smile, taking his hand and leading him toward where the private rooms were located. Rafe’s grip tightened around his glass, the condensation slick against his palm as he watched her. His jaw flexed, a slow inhale as Daniel let her take his hand and lead him toward the back rooms with that same effortless sway in her hips, that same lack of hesitation.

Like it was nothing- because it was nothing, that’s what he told himself, anyway. And yet, something ugly twisted inside him, something hot and slow-burning, clawing up his throat and settling behind his ribs like a weight. It wasn’t jealousy.

It wasn’t.

It was disgust. Yeah. Disgust at how easily she paraded herself around. Disgust at how she let men like Danny put their hands on her, whisper in her ear, slide cash into the band of those tiny fucking panties. Disgust at the way she looked at Rafe like he was a problem. His fingers twitched against the glass, the ice inside shifting with the movement. The door to the private rooms clicked shut, sealing her inside with another man. His stomach turned and Barry’s elbow nudged into his side,

“Gott' em panties in a twist cuz?”.”

Rafe's fingers drum against his thigh, his jaw clenching as his eyes stayed fixed on the door Y/N disappeared behind. He just exhaled slowly, lifting his drink to his lips. The whiskey burned its way down his throat, but it didn’t do a damn thing to settle the irritation simmering in his chest. His gaze snaps to the side as Tommy strolls past. Without a second thought, he stands up, stepping into his path and placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Hey man-”

Rafe drawls, flashing that easy-going grin that never quite reaches his eyes. Tommy stops, brow furrowing as he looks at him.

“Rafe. Everything good?”

Rafe keeps his grip firm, steering him slightly away from the main floor, lowering his voice just enough, “Need to talk to you about something.” Tommy eyes him warily but gestures for him to go on.

“That girl Y/- shit what’s her- Bunny right?.” Rafe tilts his head toward the private rooms where she’d disappeared to, his lips twitching. Tommy follows his gaze and gives him a small nod of understanding, “yeah?”

“I don’t want her doing private dances anymore.”

Tommy blinks, taken aback, “What?”

“You heard me.” Rafe shifted his weight, standing a little taller as he continued, “No more private rooms for her. Not with other guys, at least.” Tommy scoffs, shaking his head at his absurd request.

“That’s not how this works. She’s one of my best girls. Lotta guys pay good money to have time with her.”

Rafe frown slightly- surprised at the man’s refusal, he lets outs a small hum of amusement, before pulling a roll of cash from his pocket and peeling off a few hundred dollar bills, letting them sit between his fingers.

“That’s cute,” he says. “But see, I’m not asking.”

“You want her to stop doin’ privates… why, exactly?”

Tommy’s expression tightens as he looks at the money, then back at Rafe. Barry, who’s been watching the exchange with mild amusement, finally chimes in. “Oh, he wants her dancin’ for us now?” he says, grinning. “Would ya look at that”

Rafe tilts his head, his rolling his eyes at his friends retort. “Something like that.” Tommy exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“This isn’t a fuckin’ charity, Cameron. I can’t just—”

“You can if I make it worth your while,” Rafe cuts in smoothly, tapping the stack of cash against Tommy’s chest before pressing it into his hand. “We both know you like money, Tommy. I’ve got plenty of it- so what’s the problem huh?”

Tommy glances down at the bills, hesitating. “I’ll keep it simple for you,” Rafe continues, lowering his voice, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

“She dances for me. Me and Barry. No one else. Every time we’re here.”

Tommy lets out a long breath, eyeing Rafe for a moment before slowly nodding. “Fine. But if she asks, this wasn’t my idea.” Rafe grins, stepping back as he claps the man on the shoulder, “Pleasure doing business.” As Tommy walks off, Barry lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“You’re pussy whipped Cameron.”

Rafe scoffs, leaning back in his seat, his tongue running over his teeth. “Nah, man…” He shakes his head, picking up his drink and taking a slow sip before setting it back down with a quiet clink. His eyes flick back toward the private rooms, dark and unreadable.

“Just gotta make sure she knows who’s in charge.”

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

The dressing room was a haze of perfume, hairspray, and soft music playing from someone’s phone in the corner. Bright, round vanity bulbs framed the mirrors, casting a warm glow over the space, reflecting sequins, silk, and lace. The air carried the sounds of quiet laughter, the snap of compacts closing. Y/N sat at her usual spot, adjusting the strap of her new bra, eyes flicking over her reflection. The strap was loose again- annoying. She huffed, tugging it into place just as Tommy’s voice cut through the chatter.

“Y/N. Need a word.”

“Why?”

She turned, brows furrowing as he gestured her over to him. She slowly rose up from her seat, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor getting lost amongst the chatter of the other few girls scattered around the room. She made it up to the door way and stood opposite the man eyebrows slightly furrowed as she folded her arms waiting. Tommy exhaled through his nose, arms crossed over his chest.

“No more private dances.”

"What?”

“You’re not doing them anymore.”

She let out a dry laugh as the sudden new revelation, “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s where I make the most money Tommy.”

He didn’t say anything because he knew it was going to be an issue- he also knew it was an inane request. Yet he just kept looking at her, like he was waiting for her to let it go. But she wasn’t letting it go. Her eyebrows were drawn down uncomfortably connoting her distress as her voice rang out once more.

“What the fuck is this? I can’t believe you think that I’m just going to dro-”

“-Rafe Cameron put in a request.”

And just like that, the blood in her veins ran hot. Her stomach twisted at the name alone. “A request?” she repeated slowly, already dreading where this was going. “Yeah.” He shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

“No more private dances for anyone but him and Barry.”

She blinked. Then laughed. A dry, humorless sound. “You’re fucking serious?”

“I’m serious.” As soon as the words passed his lips the the expression of confusion was wiped off of her face in an instance, now being replaced by a face twisted with anger,

“You’re actually letting him tell you how to run your own damn club?”

“Watch it, Y/N.”

“-No, you watch it, Tommy”

She snapped, “I work here and you’re supposed to be my boss. But it doesn’t fucking look like it.”

“I am the boss. And I’m telling you how it is.”

A few girls nearby went quiet, exchanging glances. Tommy took a step closer, lowering his voice. It was uncommon for him to be stern with them, after all he considered most of them like family. So the fact they were all currently sitting watching him lecture Y/N had them slightly on the edge of their seat. She scoffed, shaking her head at him.

“Unbelievable.”

“Yeah, well, believe it.”

Tommy shot her a look. “Do your job Y/N” With that, he turned and walked off, leaving her fuming. Moments after, Y/N stormed out of the dressing room, jaw clenched, fists tight at her sides as she weaved through the dimly lit club. The bass-heavy music thumped in her chest, the colored lights flashing over bodies, over money exchanging hands, over the world she had to survive in. She spotted them right away- Barry leaned in close to some guy, murmuring low as a roll of cash was slipped into his palm. Rafe sat beside him, relaxed, legs spread, beer bottle in one hand, his other draped over the back of the booth like he owned the place. Her blood boiled at the sight of him.

“Are you fucking serious?”

She hissed the moment she reached them, eyes locked on Rafe. Barry let out a low whistle, not even looking up from the customer. “Well, I’ll let the lovebirds sort this one out,” He muttered with a smirk before leading the guy toward a darker corner of the club, leaving them alone. Y/N didn’t waste a second.

“Do you have any idea how much money I’m losing because of your shit?”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem Bunny.”

Her voice was sharp, but quiet enough not to draw attention. Rafe, as always, looked entirely unfazed. He barely lifted his chin to meet her glare, taking a slow sip from his bottle before answering.

“Besides- I think I can afford to pay for a stripper.”

Her teeth clenched so hard it ached. Her fingers curled at her sides, nails pressing into her palms. She was about to snap back, about to tell him exactly where he could shove his money, when his eyes darkened, and he cut her off.

“Just shut up and do your job.”

“-Excuse me?”

She inhaled sharply. He gestured lazily toward the small stage beside their booth, the one with the pole gleaming under the soft purple lights. He tilted his head, a slow, smug grin curling on his lips.

“Go on—I’m waiting, Bunny.”

Fury burned through her, white-hot. She stepped closer, her chest rising and falling heavily, her pulse drumming against her skin as she lifted up her hand pointing at him- ready to curse him out in front of half the club. Rafe watched her, his amusement growing the angrier she got. Before she could let loose, Tommy was suddenly between them, a firm hand on her arm.

“Hey- hey"

He warned, his voice low, expression sharp. Y/N’s breaths were heavy, her fists trembling at her sides as she glared past Tommy at Rafe. He only smirked, slow and easy, like he had all the time in the world. Tommy stepped in between them, his hand firm on Y/N’s arm, his voice low but controlled.

“Are we gonna have a problem here?”

He asked, but his eyes flickered between Y/N and Rafe, knowing exactly what was about to happen. Rafe didn’t flinch. He leaned back, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ask your bitch, man.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, blood boiling at the words, her heart pounding in her chest- she genuinely felt like she was going to pass out from rage. She whipped her head toward Tommy, her gaze sharp with fury.

“You’re gonna let him talk to me like that?”

Tommy’s jaw tightened, and his eyes softened just a fraction. He lowered his voice, like he was trying to calm the storm brewing inside her.

“Look—do this for me, and I won’t take a cut out of your payment ever again.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered over his face, her anger simmering down just enough to process his words. No cut? That would make a huge difference. The weight of the decision settled into her chest. She let out a long sigh, her body trembling with the frustration of it all.

“Fine.”

“Great. Now get up there.”

Rafe watched with a knowing grin, his eyes never leaving her as she reluctantly made her way to the pole. She could feel the heat in the room, the music vibrating in her veins, but the irritation still pulsed through her every movement. Her fingers wrapped around the pole which was cool against her hot palms, and with one fluid motion, she spun herself around it- her body a controlled chaos. The lights reflected off her skin as she danced, each move a mix of anger and seduction, trying to drown out the growing tension inside her chest.

Rafe leaned back in the booth with Barry now. He watched her every move, the smirk never fading from his face. Barry let out a low whistle, nudging him. Rafe slapped his arm, as if to shake off the tension of the moment, before yelling out over the music, his voice loud and clear:

“Shake your ass like you mean it!”

Y/N’s eyes shot up, meeting his for a brief second, the rage in them burning hotter than before. She tried to block him out, focusing on her routine, but his words dug into her, fueling the anger that she kept buried deep. Her body flowed into the next move, a slow, deliberate drop to her knees her back arching, her gaze never leaving Rafe’s as she pushed her hips up, challenging. Then, with a slow, deliberate crawl, she made her way toward the end of the small stage where they sat. Each step was calculated, her body close to the floor, her hips swaying with a rhythm that seemed to pierce right through him.

The whole time, she didn’t look away, not once breaking the eye contact- she refused to let him think she cowers under his glare.

Rafe’s hand tightened around his beer bottle, his focus locked on her. He couldn’t help but sit forward, leaning in slightly, the raw intensity of her stare pulling him in. His fingers gripped the neck of the bottle, almost white-knuckled, before he took a slow sip, as though the action could calm this sudden heat inside him.

It didn’t.

Y/N didn’t break eye contact. Her body felt on fire, the music in her bones, the anger in her veins. She reached the edge of the stage and paused, just a foot or two away from Rafe, her chest rising and falling with every breath, her muscles aching but refusing to give in as she ran her hands down her body. His smirk faltered for just a second before it returned, but it wasn’t the same. There was a flicker of something else in his eyes now.

“My private little dancer hmmm?”

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

The sun hung high, casting a golden glow over the beach as the Y/n and Pogues basked in the warmth of one of the rare days off she had. The ocean shimmered in the distance, the waves rolling in lazily against the shore and all of them were lounging around, enjoying the moment of peace. Pope, ever the thoughtful one, sat up and glanced over at the girl,

“So, how’s your job going, Y/N?”

He asked, his voice casual but curious and Y/N shot him a look, raising an eyebrow.

“Jesus Pope- stay in school man”

She teased, shaking her head. The group burst into laughter, and even Pope couldn’t help but crack a smile at her response. Sarah, still amused, chimed in, “Is it that bad?” Y/N groaned dramatically, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows to look at the blonde haired girl,

“I’m serving kooks all day, getting yelled at if I bring them a steak at the wrong temperature, if their lemon slice is on the wrong side of the plate… It's just- it’s shit.”

John B and Cleo laughed again, yet she found the others nodding sympathetically. Kiara, who had been humming to herself while watching the waves, looked over at JJ with a playful glint in her eye.

“You should get a job Jayje” she clawed out to the boy who was wading through the water, her voice teasing. JJ groaned and threw a hand up in the air. “Not you too,” he replied dramatically. Y/N’s eyes lit up as she sat up, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Thank you, Kie! Someone else here who has common sense.”

Kiara grinned, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “It’s not that hard JJ,” she joked. JJ shook his head, muttering under his breath, but there was a playful glint in his eye as he watched the gang, clearly enjoying the lighthearted moment. Y/N leaned back, soaking in the easy banter and warmth of the sun. John B stretched out on his towel, a relaxed smile on his face as he glanced over at Y/N.

“It’s nice you could join us though.”

“Thanks JB”

She responded, her voice light as she let out a small hum, resting her head on her folded arms and giving him a grateful look. Just then, JJ, hair still dripping from having left the water moments prior, bounded over and flopped down on top of her, his back sprawling out across hers like a human blanket.

“Jeez, JJ!”

Y/N exclaimed, nearly knocking the wind out of herself under his weight. “Uh, rude?” JJ grinned, his cheek pressed into the sand as he looked up at her.

“You’re heavy as hell, J”

She shot back, trying to wiggle out from under him. The rest of the group laughed, with Cleo shaking her head. “You’re a big back rude boy.” she teased. JJ immediately shot her a look. “Yo- shut up…” he grumbled, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. The atmosphere was easy and familiar. JJ shifted his weight slightly, settling more comfortably. He looked out over the ocean for a moment before his tone shifted.

“I miss this”

He said, his voice quieter now, almost like a confession. Y/N turned her head just enough to catch his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

He let out a small sigh, his gaze lingering on the others for a moment before meeting hers, “You’re just busy all the time.”

“I know J, I know.”

Y/N nodded, the weight of her words settling between them as she spoke. JJ huffed softly, clearly trying to hold back some frustration.

“Yeah, but—”

“I’m doing it for you, yeah? You’re my brother, J. I’d do anything for you.”

She cut him off, her voice soft but firm, JJ’s eyes softened at that, but before he could respond, his stomach gave a loud rumble cutting him off mid-sentence. Y/N couldn’t help but let out a small laugh of disbelief. “Hungry much?” she teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Shut up much?”

JJ groaned, but his stomach gave another loud growl, making everyone laugh. “Let me go get you something to eat,” she offered, already starting to rise. But JJ wasn’t having it. He reached out and grabbed her arm before she could get up, holding her in place.

“Okay, okay, let go”

She said, trying to wiggle free. He just squeezed her tighter, pressing his body closer to hers in a hug. Y/N patted his back sweetly before she let out an exaggerated groan.

“Ew, Jay, you’re all sweaty!”

Y/N stood in line at the food truck, the warm sun still casting its golden light over the beach as the waves crashed nearby. She couldn’t resist—her favourite fish tacos were the perfect treat, and she’d ordered enough for the whole group. She was balancing her drink in one hand while she fumbled with her phone, checking to make sure everyone had their orders right. Then, just as she was waiting to pick up the food, she heard that familiar voice behind her.

“That’s a lot of food for one person, Maybank” Rafe said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He eyed the stack of boxes she was waiting for, a smug smirk on his face.

“Sure you can afford all that? Or do you need me to front you a little cash?”

“I can fucking afford to feed myself, you asshole.”

Y/N didn’t even turn around at first, knowing exactly who it was and she shot back without missing a beat. Rafe tutted at her attitude, clearly amused. He stepped closer, his presence still as commanding as ever. “Careful,” he warned, his voice dropping just a notch.

“I could always let your little secret slip, you know? Wouldn’t want your brother finding out how you’re really making money.”

Her stomach twisted, but she didn’t let him see it. She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. “You wouldn't dare” He just leaned in a little, his smirk widening. “Oh I would,” he said, his voice low, teasing.

“Ruin your perfect little world, wouldn’t I?”

As Y/N stood at the food truck, Rafe’s smug grin never left his face as he stared at her, clearly enjoying the quiet torment no one else had taken notice of. But as they exchanged words, JJ, who had just been chatting with the others, saw the two of them. His eyes narrowed, and a surge of protective instinct kicked in. He took a step forward, moving toward them with purpose.

“You got a problem Cameron?"

JJ muttered, his gaze darting between Y/N and Rafe, his jaw tight. Y/N quickly stepped between them, placing a hand on JJ’s chest to stop him from taking another step- she knew how impulsive her brother could be.

“Jay, let it go”

She said firmly, her tone not leaving room for argument. Rafe just watched, the smug smirk on his face growing wider as he looked Y/N up and down folding his arms. His eyes held a silent warning, the kind that said ‘I’ve got you and there's nothing you can do’ without speaking it aloud. JJ didn’t take his eyes off Rafe, but with a sigh, he let Y/N push him back. He mumbled under his breath,

“You’re lucky she’s here.”

“Oh you bet”

Once she’d pulled her brother away from Rafe and they were on their way back to the group, tacos in hand, JJ couldn’t help but throw a question out. He looked over at Y/N with a raised eyebrow, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

“Since when do you listen to what Rafe says?”

Y/N just takes a slow bite of her taco, trying to ignore the question. The food tasted like cardboard in her mouth as she chewed slowly, her mind racing.

“Just… leave it Jay.”

Her voice is tired, and JJ can see the exhaustion behind her eyes. He’s about to press her again when he catches the look on her face- a mix of frustration, anger, and something else… something he can’t quite figure out. He lets it go, but his mind is still buzzing. He knows she’s hiding something from him- and he can’t deny that it pisses him off. She’s his older sister. She’s always been the strong one, they’ve always stuck together. So why won’t she tell him what’s going on with her…?

As JJ dropped the subject, Y/N let out a quiet breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. But the heaviness didn't lift. She couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt- and all of it was tied to Rafe. She hated herself for letting it get this far but she couldn't let JJ get involved in it, not yet.

Not ever.

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nereidprinc3ss · 11 months ago

Text

you know the killer doesn't understand

in which spencer is so terrified he's going to hurt you after he gets out of prison that he can barely touch you. an argument ensues.

angst (+ comfort) warnings/tags: established relationship, fem!reader, mentions of violent intrusive thoughts (non-specific), arguing, yelling, use of the word rape, nightmares, happyish ending, mention of showering together, it's a bad time but it's also a good time for us woo i love angsty angst a/n: i miss posting for real so bad i dug up this draft which was mostly finished and polished it up. i think i really like this one and it was based on a request but i lost it:( i hope u guys enjoy this, pls lmk<3

Spencer is by no means happy with his sudden fear of touching you—it makes everything in his life significantly harder and less convenient and he hates that he’s constantly afraid he’s going to break you. He hates watching you hold back from attacking him with a hug when he enters a room like you used to, and he feels terrible every time you ball up on the opposite side of the couch as he reads, waiting for an invitation into his lap but too scared to ask for one (he’ll always hold out his arm for you, though—he’s not cruel.)

You’re adorable in the way you stand at the foot of the bed in your pajamas, arms behind your back like it’s not your bed too, but it makes him feel terrible. This isn’t at all what he wanted for you, and in all honestly he’s thought about ending the relationship because he knows he’s being an absolutely awful partner—but he just can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gestures for you to get into bed, and you curl up under the covers close to him but not against him, and he’ll play with your hair and read for a while because he can’t sleep very well. Eventually he’ll assume the position of sleep, but some sick part of him doesn’t know what to do with the sounds of the city and the fan instead of the sounds of a hundred men rolling and sniffing and shuffling around their echoey cells. He doesn’t understand warmth anymore, or softness, or nice pajamas or fluffy pillows. He’s starting to think he doesn’t understand you. And that’s the worst thought of all.

So he essentially dozes for the first week, on and off, always exhausted in the mornings but what’s new. When he can’t sleep, he turns his head to watch you breathe—some beautiful, sweet creature dreaming in his bed, unwaveringly loyal to him even though he can hardly stand to touch you for fuck’s sake. You’re beautiful, and it makes him feel better to watch you, even if he can’t touch you. Not now that he knows what he is capable of doing to another person. What if he has some sort of PTSD—PTSS, thank you, Luke Alvez—induced dream and does something terrible to you in his sleep? It’s not like you’re tiny, but he’s stronger, he knows he is, and lately every time you get too close he remembers exactly what it feels like to exert the full force of that strength, and what it feels like when someone else unleashes their own onto him.

They’re just intrusive thoughts, and in them he doesn’t hurt you intentionally, but he always feels a little bit sick now. He is so, so sick. A bull in a China shop. Spencer knows exactly how breakable humans are—it’s his job to know. If he left so much as one red mark on you by accident, he’s quite sure he’d drill down to a previously unknown rock bottom. And if he reaches that point, he doesn’t know if he’d ever deserve to come back.

Every day it seems to become clearer that the only humane thing to do is break up with you. But for now he’ll watch you sleep—the delicate rising and falling of your chest, the way you curl in on yourself because you can’t curl into him. In sleep you look so peaceful and content. You never look that way awake, anymore. Not when he’s around, which is pretty much always. At least he can’t disappoint you while you’re asleep.

Or so he’d like to think.

Until one night, about a week and a half after he gets home; you whimper in your sleep. It’s so quiet he could’ve missed it, but he doesn’t, and then he watches your smooth brow furrow with worry and he knows you’re having a nightmare immediately.

Spencer panics—before, he would have woken you up and held you and comforted you until you fell back asleep and it would have been so simple. Now he’s frozen, afraid to touch you but not sure if he can just lie there watching you so afraid and not do a thing about it.

In the end, you choose for him—and it only takes a few moments. You’re close enough to him that it’s easy for you to close the few inches even in sleep, and maybe you’re slightly conscious but not enough to remember you’re not supposed to touch him.

He stops breathing as you fold yourself against him, muttering worried nonsense—he catches his name, once—nestling against his chest, one searching arm gently draping over his waist. Every muscle in his body is rigid, and his thoughts—his mind goes… completely fucking blank.

Suddenly, all he’s known, all he’s ever known, is the smell of your hair, the warmth of you seeping through layers of clothing, and the weight of your arm over him. Everything he ever was ceases to exist, and he’s just this, right now. The person you’d turned to unconsciously for comfort, so sure, so trusting that he would keep you safe. He can feel your breath for the first time in months. Slowly every tense muscle unspools. For the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel dangerous. He doesn’t feel like his entire body is spring loaded and ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Spencer allows himself to hold you, and part of it feels like betrayal because he knows how badly you need this from him while you’re awake but mostly he feels like he could cry. His thumb rubs circles into the middle of your back and your head tucks so perfectly under his chin while he studies the rumpled sheets where you’d been lying a moment ago. He almost feels like sticking his tongue out to gloat at your half of the mattress—haha, look who gets to hold her now—but instead he sighs, shakily, and squeezes his eyes shut.

You don’t make another sound for hours.

He’s reluctant to let you go when you begin to stir around six AM, but forcibly holding onto you is so far from what he wants to do that he manages. You roll back over to your own side of the bed, and he continues admiring you from afar until he falls asleep. It’s the best three hours of sleep he’s had in a very long time.

Of course, you don’t remember it. When you wake up your sadness resumes, and so does the pretending like you’re not sad, but you’re a very good sport—and it helps that he’s feeling much better this morning than he has since he got back.

“Good morning,” you whisper faintly, still blinking as you watch him longingly from your spot.

Spencer pushes himself up onto an elbow, and you watch with big eyes as he leans over you, stroking your cheek with his free hand.

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

Your brow flickers, and he realizes it’s not a question he asks every morning, and you’re probably distracted by this overt display of affection, but you answer it obediently anyway.

“I think so. I had weird dreams.”

He hums.

“About what?”

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the exact spattering of microscopically fractured pigment over your irises. Your voice is small when you finally speak.

“Do I have to tell you?”

That hurts.

“No. But it might help.”

Coming from him? Ironic doesn’t even begin to cover it.

You acknowledge him with a small hum of your own, studying him with soft, mistrustful eyes.

He can’t help it anymore—Spencer leans down and gently kisses you, so tenderly, so chastely, it makes his own head spin. He hasn’t kissed you like that since you picked him up from Milburn. It’s long overdue.

Which is why he’s not expecting you to start crying. He pulls back immediately, not far, just enough to assess your expression.

“What’s this? What’s wrong, angel?” He frowns. Your lip quivers in a way that feels like a blow to the chest.

“That’s not… you’re…”

“What? What is it?”

A fat tear finally traces a path down your cheek and when you speak your voice breaks in the most fragile, devastating way.

“You’re not being fair.”

He has no neat question to summarize all the bafflement your accusation inspires in his lately cloudy head, but the wildly confused look on his face must be prompt enough.

“I’m trying really hard to respect your space and boundaries and not upset you but my feelings are hurt, Spencer, I don’t know how they couldn’t be. I feel like you don’t even like me anymore. I’m embarrassed around you because I feel like I care about you so much more than you care about me. And then you—and then you wake up one morning and you think it’s okay to act like you love me again but I can’t—I c—” you stop, obviously frustrated—now crying in earnest and lacking the words. “You can’t be mean to me. I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry but you can’t treat me like that. I’m a person, too.”

His chest aches and he swallows down barbed wire.

“I’m not acting like I love you. I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. That’s not an act.”

It’s not an adequate response, but your words are still spinning in his head until he can’t keep up with them. He’s not used to this, anymore. The language you two had developed is so foreign now.

Maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you.

Resignation—a too-calm recognition softens the stormy look that has brewed on your face. As soon as it’s gone, and you’re looking at him placidly, he realizes he’s afraid.

“Well, that’s not enough,” you whisper.

Spencer feels like he’s been shot as you push the covers aside and slip out of bed. And he knows what that feels like.

“Where are you going?” And then louder, when you don’t hear him because you’ve already left the room, “Where are you going?”

He follows you through the apartment as you march purposefully for the door, slipping shoes on and grabbing your keys and coat.

You barely look over your shoulder as you leave, slamming the front door behind you. Things shake from the impact. A mini earthquake.

Spencer is too stunned to follow you.

It’s not until a few minutes later when he goes to call you that he realizes your phone is still sitting on your bedside table. He stares at it, tasting metal, because he has absolutely no way to reach you or guarantee your safety. There’s no way for you to call him, or anyone, if you get in trouble—and he fears that you’ll retaliate against him by doing something stupid and dangerous.

He only just manages to stop himself from calling the police and asking them to start looking for you. Only just recognizes it to be an overreaction.

Besides, he’s not feeling particularly fond of the criminal justice institution these days. If it came down to it, he’d trust himself and his team over the cops any day.

The team. They’re always a resource. If worst comes to worst, he thinks, robotically making coffee as he tries to talk himself down, and she doesn’t come home before dark, I’ll call all of her closest friends. If she doesn’t come home before the morning—the thought makes him feel sick—I’ll deploy every fucking resource at my disposal.

Maybe that’s an overreaction, too, but he has to find a way to self-soothe somehow. Planning makes him feel better. Being prepared for the things you never see coming makes him feel better. It’s impossible, of course—but the illusion of control is stubborn and so seductive.

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that.

At around 2 PM, he receives a couple of texts from Garcia that are a massive relief.

Penelope: She’s at my apartment

Penelope: BE NICER TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!

The series of emojis that follow (including an octopus?), he doesn’t even try to decipher. He simply drops his phone and sighs deeply into his hands, releasing an extreme amount of paranoid tension that had been tying him into knots. Lately, he’s had this sense that everything is fleeting—that the things he takes for granted are painfully, violently impermanent. It doesn’t take anyone with a degree to figure out why he’s been feeling that way, but it’s so all-consuming he’s not sure how to cope with it. Just a few days ago, he’d been wondering how to break up with you. Now he’s asking himself how the fuck he thought he’d be able to do that when he’s barely functioning after a few hours without you.

It’s a question he still hasn’t answered by the time the front door opens at 10 PM. It’s clear by the deer-in-headlights look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting him like this—leaning over the counter, half-empty mug by his hand, staring at nothing in particular and waiting for you to come home. Neither of you have changed clothing since this morning—not that you could—but you look apprehensive as you close it behind you, never facing away from him. The whole thing is like a teenager being caught sneaking back in by a weary parent.

For a moment the silent confrontation stretches into the horizon, a non-specific point as neither of you seem inclined to be the first to talk. You just watch him watching you—leaning against the door rigidly as if you can’t get far enough away. But he’s too tired for this. Too worn out.

“How’d you get home?”

You swallow.

“Penelope.”

Spencer nods slowly, rolling his bottom lip between teeth and finally looking away.

“You really should have brought your phone.”

You scoff, peeling yourself from the door.

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s the same situation as this morning, but in reverse—him following after you down the hall as you storm toward the bedroom.

“Wh—should I not have been? You scared me—” he says your name, barely catching the door before it can slam in his face. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” you face him, laughing bewilderedly as if the situation were at all funny. A kind of manic energy crackles from the surface of your skin and in your eyes that renders him unable to think of a reply. “Because you thought I would get raped and murdered and then you’d be sad?”

“Yes!” Spencer yells, eyes widening as he fails to contain his frustration any longer. “That is fucking exactly why I was scared!”

You step forward, getting in his space. It jars him, momentarily—he wants to get away from you. Being angry and so close to you is terrifying. What if he lashes out? What if he hurts you? He’s seen crimes of passion. His blood is freezing in his veins.

“Of course you didn’t give one single fuck that I left you. You didn’t think for one fucking second that I might be tired of this. That wasn’t what you were scared of at all.” For every inch you near, he backs away. Another scorned, bitter laugh from you that feels like poison coursing through his entire circulatory system. You notice everything, eyeing him up and down as he cowers from you. “What is this, Spencer? If you hate being near me that much, just fucking break up with me.”

You’re close enough that he can see the tears welling in your eyes, but he’d know they were there even if he couldn’t observe them. He would hear it in your voice. He would feel it. But he can’t do anything about it. Right now, he’s paralyzed.

“If the only thing holding you back is wanting to spare my feelings, just fucking do it. This isn’t better. I don’t give a fuck if it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too, but I’m not just going to ignore it anymore.”

There’s no more room. The wall is at is back.

“Honey, please back up,” Spencer breathes. Last time his back was to a wall, he’d been gagged and beaten. Don’t lash out. She never hurt you. It wasn’t her.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you shout, as tears begin to spill over your cheeks. “Either break up with me or stop telling me to go away!”

At that moment, as you break down and your words become muddled with sobs, you raise your fist.

Spencer watches it approach his shoulder as if in slow-motion.

On instinct, he catches your wrist.

There’s a lull as he waits for something to explode, for something to go terribly, deeply wrong—

But it doesn’t.

He realizes his grip is gentle. He realizes you’d never actually hurt him like that. He realizes how little resistance he’d found when he stopped what was sure to be nothing more than a petulant, petty bump against his shoulder—a maneuver that wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest. It was nothing more than a desolate, childlike display of feelings bigger than you know what to do with.

In the second that it takes him to realize all of this, to realize he is not endangering you in the slightest, nor you him, you’ve begun to truly sob. Standing just inches from him, head angled down as he holds your wrist carefully, you are the picture of a girl who has been running on empty for a very long time and has nothing left to give. Spencer twines his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and slowly rubbing your back like he’d never forgotten how to hold you. It stuns you, and the tears pause for just a second—before you’re wrapping desperate, weakened arms around him and sobbing even harder, albeit silently, into his shirt.

“I don’t want to break up,” he whispers, his own voice shaky with understated emotion. “I’m sorry. Please don’t say that. I don’t want that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” You cry, a desperate plead caught between sobs that wrack your body against his against the wall. And he knows it’s not an accusation. It’s not an insult. It’s a question borne of confusion and fear. It’s what a child might ask a sick dog while tears stream down feverish cheeks. And it’s completely appropriate, considering he never tells you anything anymore and he’s only just realizing how scary that must be. Spencer is back from prison but you may as well still be living alone for all that you know about him. He tangles a hand in your hair and holds you against his chest, breathing you like nitrous oxide.

“I don’t know,” he whispers. The room beyond blurs as he stares at nothing, focused only on the tingly euphoria of feeling you under his hands clashing with the ever-present and crushing shame that he couldn't do it sooner. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you—to be sorry.” Shuddering breaths and gasps still cleave your sentences in half, and Spencer listens so intently he thinks there might be harmonics hidden in the layers of your voice. He clings to every syllable like you’re wielding the word of god in a five-foot-something body. “I just miss you so m—much. I want you to—to love me.”

“I do,” he promises immediately, lips pressing to your ear. “I do love you. So much. So much.”

When you don’t respond, he’s not exactly surprised. He almost asks what he can do, what you need—but is quite sure that’s not the right move. Instead he doesn’t say a thing. Only holds you.

Later, you’ll pull back and he’ll swim in your teary gaze, and then kiss you. He’ll trace silent apologies into every inch of your skin under the torrent of the shower, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you understand. But for now, for the first time in months, you’re holding each other, and that’s all either of you need.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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lexirosewrites · 2 months ago

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Day 10: Rejection Sickness

for @stmarchmm

Steve doesn’t recognize the signs right away. He knows what sadness feels like, but not like this.

Nancy made it clear that she didn’t love him and it did something much worse to him than sadness.

Something beyond simple hurt feelings.

It hurts his heart to think about, but it hurts his lungs too. Every breath feels like drowning on dry land, heaving for air and choking instead.

And goddamnit if he’s not still on the floor of Tina’s bathroom, trying to pick himself up and leave this party with some dignity.

He knows they’ll all stare.

Steve “The Hair” Harrington, dumped and pathetic. Former popular beta and now just a trophy girlfriend omega who isn’t even good at hanging on an alpha’s arm properly.

Nancy doesn’t want him. Nobody else does either.

Bullshit, through and through.

Maybe he should’ve taken his parents’ advice and stayed on scent blockers until graduation so his designation status wasn’t public knowledge.

Steve would be lonely, but at least he could’ve saved himself some heartbreak and embarrassment.

Now he’s shaking and sobbing. Alone anyways.

Everything feels so cold and off balance.

The October chill is reaching him even though he’s inside. It doesn’t make any sense, but his bones are chilled to their core and he’s completely frozen.

This is the worse night of his life and he can’t even find the strength to leave.

Steve doesn’t actually hear the door to the bathroom open, but it makes sense that Nancy didn’t lock it on her way out and he hadn’t bothered to check it.

But he’s not by himself anymore.

Another voice is in his ears— other than his own inner omega that’s thrashing around in pain.

“Are you sick or something, Harrington? You look pale as fuck. Too many keg stands tonight?”

Words are hard. He lays there instead. That feels easier.

The voice persists nonetheless.

“Seriously, Steve. Where’s Wheeler? I thought she was with you earlier. She shouldn’t leave you alone like this.”

He can’t bite back his cry of pure anguish at hearing his alpha’s name.

She may have disowned him as her omega, but she’s still his alpha.

Nancy was supposed to take care of him. She was supposed to start a family with Steve and love him forever. She wasn’t supposed to leave too.

Everyone always leaves.

She said she was different. Steve thought she was different.

“She’s gone,” he manages to rasp.

Those two words hurt his throat and his heart.

How long has he been crying? How long has it been since he was abandoned by his future mate and left to die here?

“Jesus. You’d think she’d know better than to leave her omega alone. When is she coming back? Is Tommy giving you a ride home?”

So many questions. They still don’t understand.

Saying it out loud will make it real, but Steve isn’t sure how else to communicate the reality here.

“Alpha isn’t coming back. I was bad omega. Stupid fucking omega. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit omega. She doesn’t want me. Doesn’t want a bad omega as her mate.”

He’s so stupid. So stupid and bad and bullshit. If he wasn’t, Nancy would still be here. She would still love him.

“Oh, fuck.”

Something touches his forehead lightly. It feels just like how his nanny used to check his forehead when he was sick as a pup.

“You’re burning up, Steve. Shit. Okay, it’s gonna be okay. Wayne said any alpha can help, even if it’s not the alpha who caused it. I can do this… Fuck.”

Steve hasn’t a clue what’s going on, but the touch on his forehead goes away and is replaced with more touches.

Part of him wants to lash out at the stranger daring to lay a finger on him, especially when his alpha wouldn’t allow it.

But he doesn’t have an alpha to protect him anymore.

Nancy couldn’t care less if he lives or dies.

So he doesn’t fight the touch. After a short while, it almost feels… nice. Soothing, like cold aloe on a sizzling burn. An aching relief.

He’s wrapped up in someone’s arms, cradled in their hold as if he’s precious and worth holding onto.

“That’s it, omega. Just relax. You’re safe and nothing is going to happen to you. I won’t leave you,” the hushed voice whispers in his ear.

Steve finally catches a whiff. The scent of his holder.

Cinnamon. A dash of musk and earthy wood. It’s a rather pleasant combination in his nose.

Nancy always smelled sharp and citrusy. It was nice enough, but he never particularly wanted to inhale it more than was required.

This scent, however, feels warm and comfortable. A toasty blanket of scent wrapping him up gently just like the person it belongs to.

“Alpha,” he purrs happily into the cinnamon-scented neck. “My alpha.”

Nancy isn’t his alpha anymore. Can’t be. She doesn’t want him. Doesn’t love him.

But this is unmistakable.

The warm scent, the protective embrace, the gentle growl from the chest beneath his ear.

His alpha.

“That’s right, omega. Your alpha. But I need you to be good for me now, Steve. Can you be good for your alpha?”

What a silly question. He would do anything for his alpha.

“I’m a good omega,” Steve begs, explains, pleads.

He doesn’t want to be left alone. Not again.

“I know you are, sweetheart. You’re so good. We need to take you to a clinic to get some medicine though. You’re sick. I promise I will take care of you, but we have to leave now.”

That sounds like his alpha is going to leave.

“Don’t leave me,” he begs once more. “I’ll be good. I can be good!”

“Shhhh, you’re already good. Won’t leave you, baby. I won’t ever leave you. I just think you have rejection sickness and I can help, but you still need medicine to make sure you don’t go into shock. Your panic attack was just the beginning of it and we can’t hold this off forever.”

Steve whines at that.

He can’t imagine it getting worse than it already was. Everything feels better now, but it still stings.

Rejection sickness. Just a silly omega with his silly heartbreak.

“You won’t leave me?” he confirms.

The response he gets is gentle and kind.

“I don’t think I could, even if you asked me to. I’m your alpha now, Steve. If Nancy didn’t see what a perfect omega she had, that’s her loss. You belong to me now and I promise to take care of you. Whatever you need, it’s yours. Let me be your alpha.”

Nancy never asked what he needed.

Steve snuggles just a little bit deeper into his alpha’s neck.

A steady hand on his back rubs along his shoulders with just enough pressure to anchor him to the earth and not let his head float too far away.

“You’re a good alpha,” Steve declares sleepily. “What’s your name?”

His alpha doesn’t seem surprised by the belated question, he doesn’t even pause his comforting actions to answer.

“I don’t know that we’ve ever officially met before, but my name is Eddie.”

“Eddie?”

Sounds familiar.

“Eddie Munson.”

Ah. That’s Hawkins’ resident drug dealer.

An alpha with a job!

#stmmm25 #stranger things march mating madness #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #omegaverse #a/b/o

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pervertwhore · 11 months ago

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LEON'S GUILTY PLEASURE

SIREN IS TYPING . . writing debut! :33 this is my first ever leon fic, so please be nice! 3: i accidentally went a bit too far and made the word count 9.4k words..um..enjoy! reblogs and replies are really helpful & help me stay motivated so if you have any kind words to share, please do! i would love to hear them! i’m sorry for the really long delay in posting this but UHHH!!! idk ;(( my bae 3k helped me with the plot for the call & i hope i tagged everyone ^_^ i did my best to proofread so hopefully it’s good!

CONTAINS: older man leon! x pornstar! reader — age gaps, alcoholism, mutual masturbation, leon is co-depended with your content, he adores you, hinted erectile dysfunction, leon is lonely and sad, reader is there to put on a show for him, video call sex, dildo use, etc!

SYNOPSIS: a lonely man copes with two things, alcohol and porn, one night he comes across a video that catches his eye, pushing him down a spiral of coping through you. he adores you and your work, his only want in life is to get closer to you, and when you make a contest and offer the winner a chance at a one on one call with you, leon jumps at the opportunity.

slumping down onto his bed, a drunk leon kennedy, sat back.

a small groan left his lips as nausea swirled around inside his stomach, he didn’t have food in his system, and his stomach was full of whiskey.

aerial shoot, his favorite.

but, fuck. he overdid it, throughout the whole evening he had been nursing a new bottle of the bitter whiskey, drinking it down like it was water, not caring about the way it burned his throat. by now it was empty, the drug seeping into his system like a blanket, making his body feel hot.

slipping down onto his bed, leon stared blankly at the roof, the room was dark and quiet.

he wasn’t tired, he was drunk, but not tired. another groan came from him, his large calloused hand moving to his face. he rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the throbbing sensation in his head. he had always been tolerant of alcohol, but tonight his body couldn’t take it anymore. he thanked a higher being for not being insanely nauseous, he wasn’t in the mood to spew up the alcohol.

he let out a deep breath before he reached out and grabbed his phone.

hitting the power button, his eyes shut immediately as the blinding light of his phone hit his eyes. “jesus, fuck—“ he grunted, quickly turning down the brightness.

looking at the screen, he wasn’t surprised when he was met with an empty inbox. no texts, no calls, no emails.

a sigh left his lips, the reminder of his loneliness brought a heavy weight inside his chest. looking to his side, there was an empty spot next to him, the bed was cold.

he was lonely.

despite what he tried to tell himself, he craves romance, he craves stability. the idea of living a happy married life was something he dreamed about when he was younger, before 1998, before he became what he is now. now he scoffs at romance because deep down, he knows no one would want to be with an alcoholic old man. his prime is gone a distant memory. he feels like a shell of himself, he doesn’t have much to live for now.

the cycle of self-hatred and self-loathing was part of his daily routine, at night, he gets lost in his thoughts.

he can’t go a day sober, it would kill him. at least that’s what he thinks.

the memories of the people he had lost haunt him, no matter how much time passes, the vacant space he has in his heart doesn’t go away. no matter what he does to try and get rid of it.

the dating scene wasn’t for him, not anymore, not at this age.

he could go and pay for hookers and prostitutes to fulfill his sexual needs, but it was never enough. the pleasure was temporary.

he wasn’t happy.

leon hasn’t been happy in a long time, so long in fact, he doesn’t remember how it feels.

his gaze focused on his phone, he wanted to stop thinking. he needed to forget everything, his grief, his anger, his loneliness. that’s why he relied on alcohol, but tonight he didn’t want to drink himself to sleep.

so, that left him with one more option.

opening the internet on his phone, his dull eyes focused as his fingers typed.

pornhub.com

this was pathetic, leon thought to himself. he was pathetic, and he knew that, but that didn’t stop him from pressing on the top link.

his thumb tapped against the glass screen, entering the website.

he was quickly met with the thumbnails of various sexual acts. from girls with a cock shoved down their throats, to girls getting folded while a man is on top of them. leon was uninterested.

he never liked porn videos made with high production, it was fake, unappealing. the bright lighting, the obnoxious moaning, and the stupid faces the girls make. it was ick worthy, leon always preferred amateur porn. it was charming when a video was poorly produced, with bad quality, and crooked angles. he liked that over other porn videos.

opening the search bar, he typed the word amateur. after clicking search, he scrolled down various videos before he found one that caught his attention.

it was a masturbation video, the title wasn’t crazy either.

college girl masturbates solo :)

it was cute, the little smiley face felt so out of place on a site like this, but it piqued his curiosity. in the thumbnail your hands were between your thighs, and the position of your phone was up — like you were taking a selfie. he didn’t see much of your face, by the angle he could only see your soft lips as you bit your bottom lip. you were wearing a cute set of lingerie, too.

there was something so cute about you, from the cutesy title and your pretty lingerie, his curiosity lead him to click on the video.

the video loaded and the first thing he saw was your breasts as you adjusted the camera down. you were holding it yourself, the camera facing you. as the camera moved down, he saw your hands slipping down to your panties.

he couldn’t see your face, seems like you were shy.

he watched with anticipation as your fingers pressed against your clothed cunt, rubbing slow gentle circles on your clit. turning up the volume of his phone, he heard the way your breath hitched. he could see as your tummy moved up and down with every breath you took.

leon’s stomach tightened as blood began to rush to his cock, his hand moving to palm against his pants as he got hard.

after a minute of teasing, you put the phone down against your bed, leon heard fabric shuffling. after a few seconds, you grabbed the phone again. the angle stayed the same, but now he could see your pretty pussy.

it was slick, glistening.

his mouth went dry as he took in the sight, your manicured fingers gently pressed against your perky clit, your touch was light, and you were savoring the pleasure.

leon heard a soft moan leave your lips, his hips squirmed as he grabbed his cock through the fabric of his pants. his hand moving to slowly grope himself.

he continued to watch with eager eyes, his hand moving to unbutton his jeans and unzip his pants. eagerly, he slipped his hand under his underwear, his hand pulling his cock out.

it was standing tall, pre-cum leaking from the slit.

he shuddered, he hasn’t been this hard in what felt like forever. he genuinely thought he lost his spark, he was in his late thirties after all.

his hand wrapped around his cock, a shaky breath left his lips as he squeezed it. his cock was thick, it wasn’t the biggest there was, but it would leave girls dumbfucked. or well, it used to. he hasn’t gone that hard in a while.

his cock was pretty, his tip was reddish, veins adorned it. the ones that made the girls mushy and whimpery.

the mental image of the girls he’s shoved his cock into filled his head. truthfully, he doesn’t really remember faces, but he remembers how they reacted. their bodies trembling and loud moans.

oh, how he missed it.

as he stared at your pretty pussy, all he could think about was shoving his cock deep inside you. have you whimpering and gasping his name as he kept you folded.

his cock twitched, fuck.

you were getting him so hard, he didn’t even think it was possible given his track record in the last few years. biting the inside of his cheek, he let out a breath, he was this hard over a girl on a porn website, but he couldn’t get this hard when he was balls deep inside a hooker’s cunt. god, this was pathetic.

pathetic, pathetic, pathetic..

you’re pathetic leon.

even as the words repeated in his head, his hand was still working on his cock, jerking and tugging on his shaft. his eyebrows were furrowed and his lips parted slightly, keeping his gaze on you, he watched as you rubbed your clit faster.

he could hear your small shaky moans, you were close and so was he.

his balls were tightening, his breathing was heavy, small pants leaving his lips as he rubbed his cock raw. chasing for a high he hasn’t felt in years.

a choked groan left his lips as he came, cum spurting out of his tip in amounts he hasn’t had since he was in his twenties. his cum was milky and thick. he continued to gently jerk his cock as he rode out his orgasm, another groan leaving his lips as his head leaned back.

his eyes fluttered shut as he felt his cock softening in his hands.

holy fuck.

his mind was fuzzy, he had almost forgotten about his phone until he heard a moan come from it. he moved his gaze towards the screen and watched as your hand stayed between your thighs before they slammed shut and you began to ride out your orgasm.

leon watched with eager eyes as you rode out your high nicely.

he squirmed and let go of his flaccid cock, his cum staining his hand, his stomach, and his pants.

he moved his hands and they gripped his phone again, he tapped on your username and watched your profile. your profile picture was a shy picture of your chest, a different set of lingerie holding your tits up.

looking at your bio, he shuddered as he read your information.

your name was pretty, it suited you. he saw your age listed, twenty-one, he just had the cum of his life to a video of a twenty-one-year-old? a feeling came to him, he didn’t know how to feel. staring at his screen, his mind still processing that information, should he be disgusted? guilty? ashamed?

he sucked in a breath and gulped.

him, a man in his late thirties, almost forty, just came to a video of a twenty-one year old girl.

it felt wrong, right? she was almost two decades younger than him, when the racoon city incident happened you weren’t even born yet. this had to be wrong.

but it wasn’t, and he knew that.

sure, the gap was questionable, but it was legal. yet, he felt so..wrong.

the worst part was that even after he realized this, he still watched your other videos.

choked moans left your glossy lips, your eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed up in pleasure. your mouth was slightly agape, forming an ‘o’ shape. leon’s cock slamming down into your cunt, his hand was placed on the small for your back as he held your upper body down and kept your ass up.

he let out small pants, his eyes shutting in bliss.

your walls were warm and snug, sucking his cock back inside your cunt with a wet squelch. you were so wet, your cunt practically drooling. it was driving him mad.

his free hand was gripping your ass, holding onto the fat like his life depended on it, his dull nails digging into your skin. he let out a guttural groan as he felt your pussy tighten around him, squeezing, milking him. he didn’t have the self control he had back then, he was edging himself to try and last longer.

it was hard, his balls were heavy with cum, cum he wanted to stuff deep inside you.

his eyes shut tightly, he bit down onto his bottom lip, his thrusts got sloppily — fuck, fuck, fuck. “s-shit—“ he choked out, his head leaned back as a whimper slipped past his lips. his cock throbbed no matter how hard he tried to stop himself, his cum spurted out of his tip.

he shook as it spurted in waves, his eyes fluttered open and he panted. “sorry—“ he said, feeling bad for not letting you cum first and filling you up without any form of protection. you hummed in reply, your ass still in the air as he pulled out. his cock getting softer, his lidded gaze watched as his cum slipped out of your puffy pussy, falling in glops onto his sheets.

he felt hot as he watched it, he was about to say something when—

his eyes opened and a shaky breath left his lips, it took a moment for him to adjust to his surroundings. quickly sitting up on his bed, leon was met with the saddening realization he was alone.

you weren’t sleeping next to him, his bed was cold.

not only that, but his pants were wet. he pulled the blanket off his body and groaned when he realized he had cum inside his pants. rubbing his forehead, he slipped off his bed groggily.

it was still dark out, his bedroom was completely dark aside from the natural light of the moon that entered through his windows.

leon hastily took his pants and underwear off, throwing them across the room to where he thought his laundry basket was. he walked to his cabinets and dug into his underwear drawer before he put them on, stumbling a bit before he finished.

running his hands through his hair, he stalked over to his bed and laid down.

reaching out for his nightstand, he grabbed his phone, this time he was mindful of the brightness so he adverted his eyes and quickly lowered it before staring at the screen.

no new messages, he frowned, except an email. it was an advertisement.

he scrolled through his apps and found one, the one you’re most active on.

instagram.

leon was rather clueless about social media, but the only reason he had it was to stalk your account. he opened the app and saw that you had uploaded a new story. he quickly tapped on the bubble and watched through your posts.

you were out that night, you took photos and various videos of the night. wearing a little black dress, your tits were practically spilling out, one wrong move and your panties would be exposed. you looked beautiful though, he adjusted himself in his bed and stared at the picture you captioned ‘fit check! :D.’ he couldn’t get over how cute your little captions were, it was humorous. a cute little emoticon at the end of a text while the picture behind it was you in the sluttiest outfit you could find.

biting the inside of his cheek, leon took a screenshot of the story and continued to scroll by your posts.

you looked so happy, so pretty. leon loved the way you smiled, all teeth, it all seemed so genuine. you were with your friends in the videos, giggling and dancing along to whatever song the club was blasting.

after he finished going through your story, he clicked on your account, no new posts. a deep sigh left his lips as he put his phone back on his nightstand and turned to his side. pulling the blankets up, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep once more.

leon wasn’t sick.

he wasn’t a bad man, he wasn’t a freak, he was just lonely.

he was lonely and desperate, that’s what he told himself. he had this lingering guilt that manifested in the back of his head, you’re a sick man, leon. that’s what it repeated, every night, while he re-watched your videos and looked through the photos he had saved, it spoke.

sick. you are sick.

leon swore he wasn’t, he was just a broken man. one that found solace in you.

the age gap was eating him up inside, he had never thought of himself as someone who would find girls in their twenties attractive. yet, where he was.

he didn’t want to imagine what people would say if they found out he jerked off nightly to the thought of you. not just your videos, but the thought of you. he found himself daydreaming about you, not just in sexual situations, but romantic ones.

at the store he finds himself looking at the flower display, thinking about getting you flowers, trying to guess what flowers you would like the most. in public, when he saw couples, a bitter swirl churned in his stomach. jealousy, he was jealous that he couldn’t do the same with you.

this was developing into more of a followership, it was slowly seeping into the realm of obsession. delusion was his best friend.

occasionally, you participated in live streams.

it was cute, you were more talkative there, and you interacted with your followers happily. he was a quiet supporter, he didn’t use the chat room. you were too intimidating, he didn’t want to say something that could make you uncomfortable. he mostly gave you gifts, sending in money for you, he didn’t say much when he donated. occasionally he would type a small message for you to read with each donation, but it was rare.

that didn’t matter though. being able to hear you say his name, albeit his username, made him happy.

in these live streams, he’s been able to learn a lot about you. he knows you’re a college student, he knows you’re studying literature, he knows you’re a good student, he knows your favorite food, your favorite animal, how you like to spend your time, and much more.

he knows more about you than the people he knows in his life.

tonight, you had scheduled a livestream. posting about it on your instagram story.

‘i’m gonna be live tonight at 8 p.m. come by to talk, and i have a surprise too! >_<’ leon was curious, a surprise? so, of course he entered the stream after you started it. he needed to know what you were planning, maybe he could be part of it.

you sat in front of your camera and greeted all of the people coming in.

leon stared at you, you were so pretty, he thought. god, he felt like a teenage boy.

get a fucking grip.

your eyes focused on the screen where the chat box was opened, he watched as your eyes lit up, “welcome back, kennedy!” you said, looking back at the camera. looking straight at him.

his mouth went dry when you addressed him.

he clicked on the chat box, looking through to see if there was another kennedy, he didn’t want to jump straight to conclusions and embarrass himself. but there was no one else with the display like that.

SKENNEDY001

okay, he wasn’t very good at making usernames. he stared at his screen, unsure of what to do. you addressed him, should he say hi back? he’s never spoken in the chat room before. what if this went wrong?

slowly tapping on the keyboard, he replied with a simple. ‘hello, how are you?’ — best he plays it safe, right? his face feels hot, and he feels embarrassed. he’s always been more of a silent admirer, honestly, he never expected you to actually notice him. all sorts of different thoughts filled his head, from negative to positive. what would people think, what would you think if you found out that the biggest reason you’re paying your bills was because of some man in his late thirties who watches your content like it’s the news.

but what if you were into that? he’s heard stories about girls thinking older men were attractive, were you that type?

“i’ve been good!” you replied, snapping him out of his flood of thoughts. “i’ve seen you around, i think you might be my biggest fan.” you winked.

leon’s heart was practically beating out of his chest, he knew you meant it like a compliment, but it felt like you were pointing out how much of a lonely loser he is. “i just wanted to say thank you, your donations really help.” you said with a smile, that same pretty smile that drove him crazy, the smile he adored.

he didn’t know what to say, if he wanted to, he could write a detailed essay about you and how much he admires obsesses over you.

‘you’re welcome.. i like to support you.’ he typed back, after hitting send, he squirmed. did that sound weird? staring at your face intensely as you read through the chat, you let out a small laugh. “thank you, kennedy.” you replied, looking back at the camera. seeing how full the stream was getting, he decided that this was the end of the conversation.

his chest felt fuzzy, a feeling he hadn’t had in years, a feeling he had completely forgotten about.

he was obsessed with you.

the stream continued smoothly, you teased the camera, showing off your body and tempting the men, like him, who watched. by now he needed to rub one out during your streams, who would he be if he didn’t?

the stream was coming to a close, but before you spoke. “oh! the surprise from earlier, i almost forgot.” you said with a small laugh as you leaned back against your chair.

“basically, i was thinking, why not have a little contest.” you said, smirking at the camera. “imagine this is an auction,” you said, “the highest bidder gets to have a private, on one, video call with me.” you said, looking at your camera. “who knows, maybe that call can lead to something else.” you hummed, winking at the camera as you slid your hand down your chest.

leon blinked, a call with you? it was a dream come true. the only thing this lonely man could ask for.

you continued on, opening a gift box for anyone who wanted to get a chance with you.

he ignored how this could lead to poor financial decisions, he needed that call. he needed you for himself, he needed you to address him — to talk to him, he needed your attention like a lost puppy.

the gift period was only open for about fifteen minutes, first come first serve type of thing.

luckily, unlike the other people in the stream, he’s a government agent. with that title comes money, so as a way to secure that call, he sent you thousands.

he watched as you read the screen, your eyes widening as you saw the notification come in that you had received a few thousand dollars from your shy admirer. “holy shit.” you gasped, “okay— we have a winner! we have skennedy001 that donated over a thousand dollars!” you said, stammering as surprise filled your bones. “i’m closing the bid, that’s way too much money!” you said, giggling as you shut the bid off.

the people in the chat were going crazy, some were taking the loss like losers while the others congratulated the mystery man.

not too long after the stream ended, leon shut his phone off and stared at it. a deep breath left his lips, he didn’t know what to expect after being called the winner, but when he got a notification someone had messaged him through the streaming app, he opened it.

what he didn’t expect was to have a message from you in his inbox.

‘hey, kennedy! omg, that donation was insane! i didn’t expect that much money, please let me give you some money back! i really don’t deserve that much!! :,,)) you’re so sweet, and i appreciate it sososo much!!’

leon stared at the screen, double-checking that it was really you that had contacted me, his face got hot, did he overdo it? was that too desperate? oh, definitely it was, but still.

running his fingers through his hair, he began to type back, trying to brainstorm what to say, but after a solid five minutes of debating his options, he finally replied.

‘hello, i’m glad you appreciated it, but no. it’s okay, you can keep all of it. that’s the reason i donated it. spoil yourself.’

he typed back, his icy blue eyes hyper focused on the screen, he watched as in the span of a few seconds a small text bubble popped up as three dots bounced around. you were replying.

‘aww! are you sure? like, a 100% sure? i’m just making sure!! i just don’t wanna feel like i’m stealing from you, or something LOL!’

your text was cute, lighthearted, and warm, you were so considerate. he liked that, and his thumbs began to type out a reply.

‘no, no. it’s okay, really. just enjoy yourself.’

he replied he was trying his best to not seem uninterested. he has been told many times before that he was very “dry texter” — he had been told how uninterested he sounded with his texting habits and how it could make someone want to stop replying, and he didn’t want that. he just wasn’t sure what to say.

‘omg i am so grateful for your kindness! i’ve seen you in my streams a lot, i have honestly wondered about you. i’m glad you won the bid, tbh i wanted you to win LOL it gave me a reason to talk to you!’

oh my god. leon’s eyes widened slightly at your text, you were bold, is this how it feels like to get butterflies? he blinked, how was he supposed to reply? he’s never texted a girl in her twenties, what do girls like? what will keep you interested?

‘oh, yeah?’ he replied, reverting back to his usual dry texts, but you were lively, you knew how to keep the conversation going.

the conversation was sweet and lengthy, you ended up suggesting you move to your instagram messages so she could talk to him more often.

leon’s heart was practically going to explode out of his chest, he was giddy yet nervous. you had told him that you guys could arrange the video call for the next day at night after you finish some college work.

he was stressed, leon wasn’t sure what to expect. he’s seen your pretty face, but you haven’t seen his. his instagram profile is of an old landscape photo he took a while back, what if the camera isn’t flattering for him? he did warn you that he was in his late thirties? he didn’t want you to get your hopes up for a younger man. maybe he should just keep his camera off.

nonetheless, that night, he went to sleep happier than he has been in a while.

≻ the next day, leon was practically counting down the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until he got to see you. in the morning, he had been excited — the people around him noted his giddy attitude, but when asked why, he didn’t say anything.

he couldn’t expose himself.

but as the clock ticked and the hours passed by, leon found himself much more nervous than he’s ever been. he doesn’t want to fuck this up, in his delusion. he thinks that if this goes well, maybe, just maybe, this could evolve to something more.

you were so sweet to him last night, but the more he thinks about it, perhaps it was flattery.

he hadn’t thought about it now, this might just be all an act. something to keep him wrapped around your pinky finger, but he decided to push those thoughts down so he wouldn’t spoil his night.

once he reached his place, leon was angsty, the sun was slowly going down. the sky was a beautiful mix of warm colors: orange, red, and yellow. he could also see a hint of blue mixed in as the night sky began to slowly settle.

entering his apartment, he slipped inside the door and shut it behind him. locking it, a person could never be too safe, right?

he kicked off his shoes and slipped off his jacket, he haphazardly threw his jacket on his sofa before he made his way over to his room. he plopped down onto his bed and slipped his phone and flask out of his back pocket. opening the flask, he raised the metal container up to his lips and took in a quick shot of whiskey.

he couldn’t go into this sober.

letting the flask rest on his lap, he opened his phone and opened instagram. he looked at the messages he had with you. oh, he forgot to reply to your last message a few hours ago. he pursed his lips, fuck he feels bad, leon wasn’t an avid texter, so it was easy for him to forget.

‘sorry for the late reply, i was working.’ he hit send before he could register how “dry” that sounded, he quickly scrambled to text a bit more, so he didn’t seem too boring. ‘i’m nervous for the call.’

why would he say that?

leon shut his eyes, he was really bad at this.

after a few minutes of leon anxiously waiting for your reply, a ping came from his phone. quickly looking down at the screen, he saw that you replied.

‘aww, don’t be nervous! i don’t bite, unless you want me to ;)’

he let out a breath at your words, it felt like you always knew what to say, the number of times you’ve said something sly during the conversation that had his chest fuzzy must be over ten in the span of twenty-four hours.

leon started to type back, but he stopped mid-sentence. he wasn’t sure what to say, he was fumbling over his words, and no sentence he tried to type up made sense.

he saw your text bubble pop up, you were typing.

‘what? did i make you nervous? ;p’ — yes, yes you did.

he felt like he was in his early twenties, stumbling and stammering when a pretty girl gave him attention. jesus, has it really been that long since he’s felt something like this? god, that’s so sad.

leon ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his dark hair back, ‘yes, i don’t know how to behave when a pretty girl is talking to me.’ now it was your turn to blush, leon leaned against his headboard as he stared at his phone.

‘ohhh? is mr. kennedy getting bold? ;)) i’m excited for the call, just give me one more hour ♡’

‘take your time.’

during that hour, leon decided to try and freshen up, at least a bit. he knew he wasn’t going to turn on his camera, but maybe getting refreshed would make him feel more confident in himself.

he changed out of his work clothes and took a quick shower, he slipped on some comfortable sweatpants and a black compression shirt that he typically used when he was working out. as he looked at himself in the mirror, he noticed the eye bags that hung under his eyes and the stubble that covered his cheeks and chin.

moving his hand up to his face, he ran his fingers through his stubble and sighed as he felt the facial hair scratching his skin. should he have shaved this morning? he didn’t know, he hadn’t been bare-faced in a few years now, as he aged the clean look he used to have didn’t fit him anymore.

reaching over for his flask that he had left on the bathroom counter, leon quickly took another swing of his flask and then sighed as he put it back on his counter.

he was so fucking nervous and for what? he’s been face to face with death before, he’s encouraged over thousands of zombies in his lifetime and yet he’s so nervous at the idea of talking to you.

feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, leon scrambled to take it out before looking down at his screen. it was you.

‘okay! i’m ready, are you? ;)’ — no, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be, but he replied, ‘yes. how does this work?’ he replied, unsure of what you were planning.

he watched as the text bubble popped up from your end as you typed again, ‘its suuuper easy! i’ll set up a voice chat and send you the link, then i’ll turn my camera on so you can see me!’ biting his bottom lip, leon moved out of the bathroom and sat down in his bed, his back resting against the headboard as he stared down at his phone.

‘okay, i’ll wait for you.’ he replied as he tried to relax, letting out a deep sigh, leon shut his eyes for a few seconds before he felt his phone buzz again.

looking back at the screen, you had sent him a link.

‘here it is! ;)’ the text said, his thumb hovered over the screen as he bit the inside of his cheek and hesitated before quickly tapping the link. the link opened up another website, the same one you use for streams. it took a few seconds for it to load, but he could tell his camera was off and his mic was muted.

okay, good.

eventually, the screen loaded and he saw you, you were wearing a cute tank top of a band, he’s seen the band name around before. it was popular back in the early 2000s, you didn’t have any sexy clothes on, it was actually cute. it made you feel even more real.

“hi!” you said as you waved at the camera, “let me know if the camera and audio are working properly, sometimes the app gives me issues,” you said with a smile as you stared at your screen. leon went to open the chat box, but he realized that if he wanted to make the most out of this call, talking to you would better.

taking in a deep breath, he cleared his throat and unmuted his microphone. “..it works,” he said, his face feeling hot as he spoke.

leon had always been rather charming and talkative in real life, so why was he so shy? it wasn’t anything like him, did his loneliness really ruin him? your eyes lit up when you heard his voice, surprised he spoke.

he watched as a smile curled on your lips, “i’m glad!” you said, leaning in closer, giving leon a full view of your cleavage, he noticed a black lace bra underneath your shirt. tilting your head to the side, you hummed, “soo..how was your day?” you asked curiously as you stared up at the camera with a small smirk. leon hated how quick it was for him to feel pressure growing in his pants when it came to you.

why was it so easy to get hard for you?

“it was good..you?” he asked softly, his hand slipping down his body to grip his cock through his pants. your smirk turned into a smile, “my day was good too! thank you for asking,” you hummed, “so, what do you want to do?” you asked, leaning back against your chair as you moved your hand to hold your tit, squeezing the mound playfully. “it’s just you and me, no need to be shy.” you winked.

leon squirmed in his bed, “..i don’t know actually,” he muttered, “i never got to decide how i wanted to approach this.” he said, squeezing his bulge and sighing. “..i wanted to just talk and get you know you more, but..” he trailed off, unsure if he should tell you that his cock was hard at the mere sight of you.

you seemed to get the hint when you heard the shaky breath that left his lips, “got too excited, didn’t you?” you teased, biting your bottom lip as you batted your eyelashes to the camera. “it’s okay, let me help you.” you offered, that pretty smirk of yours coming back to your lips.

leon’s eyebrows furrowed as he felt his cock throb inside his pants.

“..a-are you sure? i don’t want to ruin the call.” leon murmured, his voice uneven as he tried to resist the urge to slip his hand under his pants' waistband.

a small laugh left your lips as you shook your head, “of course not,” she said playfully, “you won this call, you get to choose whatever we do.” you said, “what’s your name?” you asked, moving to press your arms together to have them push up your tits.

leon let out a sigh and watched with a hazy look in his eyes as you pressed your chest together. “it’s leon.” he replied quickly, now eager to have you say his name.

humming, you smiled, “okay, leon. should i take off my shirt? i have a new pair of lingerie just for you.” that whole sentence could’ve made leon cum right there without any friction. the way you said his name, it was smooth, like honey. you were hot and you knew it, “y-yes, please.” leon mumbled out pathetically as he stared at his screen intensely.

you nodded and reached down for the bottom of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and discarding your shirt to the corner of your room. once your shirt was removed, leon got an eye full of your tits being held up by the new lingerie, it was a push up bra. your tits were rounded and plush, the black lace that surrounded the fabric was real pretty.

“do you like it?” you asked softly as you adjusted your bra strap, leon gulped and shuddered. “yeah, it’s pretty..it suits you.” leon said, you were so fucking hot. he wanted to jack off and cum right there, but that would just show how much of a pathetic man he is.

you only took off your shirt and leon came? embarrassing.

so, he edged himself. deciding to play it safe with palming himself through his pants. his hand moving slowly to not get too eager and fuck it up.

“you think so?” you mused, looking at the camera as your hands moved to squeeze your tits and push them closer. fondling yourself for his pleasure.

leon groaned and nodded, he knew his camera was off and that you couldn’t see it, but he couldn’t help it. “mhm, black suits you.” he said, shifting in his bed to adjust his position. “want me to take it off?” you asked curiously, looking at the camera with an amused smile. “i think my tits are pretty, it would only be fair for you to see.” you teased as you squeezed your mounds.

leon’s throat felt dry, he felt parched.

“yes,” leon shuddered out, looking down at the screen. you laughed and stood up, you adjusted your camera for it to catch your body as you stood. leon saw you were only wearing some cute little panties that brought out your ass.

turning around, your back faced the camera before you moved your hair out of the way and moved your hands to the clasps of your bra.

you were quick to unclip your bra and take it off, throwing it off to the side, to a place the camera can’t pick up. by where you threw your shirt, leon assumed. your movements were always so smooth, hypnotic almost. leon was convinced you were perfect, made with no flaws.

turning around, you held your tits up in your hands before you stepped closer and let your mounds drop. leon got a screen full of tits, you let out a laugh and moved your body in a slow sway, your tits moving around as you did so. “like ‘em?” you mused playfully before reaching up and squeezing your nipple.

leon’s head leaned back as a small groan left his lips, his hand moving down to grip his dick through his pants. “yes, fuck.” leon said with a pant.

you moved back from the camera and sat down onto your chair before adjusting the camera stand so leon could see you better.

“are you jerking off?” you asked, smirking at the lens, leon let out a small whine. “no, n-not yet.” he mumbled, his voice straining as he tried to sound level headed, but of course it didn’t work given how he stuttered. leon cursed at himself mentally, he sounds like a fucking pussy right now.

you let out a small laugh at his stutters, “what? you don’t wanna jerk off to me? you’re hurting my feelings.” you said softly as she tilted your head, leon’s eyes widened. oh shit, no, that’s not what he wanted to do.

“wait, shit—“ he tried to explain, “i didn’t mean it like that..i just want to savor the moment.” he said, shutting his eyes in embarrassment.

you smiled, “yeah? why not savor it while jerking off? i have my tits out just for you.” you teased, pouting as you did so. leon paused, you were right, your tits were out and you were willing to do anything for him and he was just edging himself?

a small groan left his lips, “yeah..okay.” he mumbled, his hand slipping under the waistband of his pants before he gripped his cock. his large hand wrapped around his shaft, his cock throbbing again due to the pressure, leon put his phone down and used his other hand to shimmy his pants down. once the waistband was wrapped around his knees, leon leaned back against the headboard and sighed as he gripped his dick.

reaching out for his phone, leon fumbled with it with one hand before finding the right position to hold it. unbeknownst to him, while he fumbled with the phone, he had pressed against the camera button.

his camera turned on and he had no idea.

you, on the other hand, were met with the sight of the mystery man that had been supporting you the most.

he was hot.

like really fucking hot, your interest on this man peaked after you saw his pretty face. he was resting his phone on his thigh was he held it up, you could see the stubble on his face, his dark black hair. he was older than you expected, but if anything it added to the appeal.

this man seemed to be seasoned, he was staring down at his phone with his eyebrows furrowed as a small sigh of bliss left his lips. he was jerking his cock, you noticed by the way his body moved, there was an arm that wasn’t getting picked up by the camera that worked on rubbing his cock raw.

you noticed how his icy blue eyes focused on you, staring at the screen of his phone with a lovesick look on his face.

he looked so pathetically hot, it wasn’t something you thought you’d find attractive, but seeing how desperate this older man was for you made you unbelievably horny. you squirmed in your seat before your hand slipped down, you moved and slipped your hand under the fabric of your panties. letting out a sigh, you felt your middle finger gently toy your clit.

“leon?” you mused, leaning your head back and spreading your legs for the camera to pick up how your hand was shoved under your panties. you reached over to your desk and grabbed a dildo, showing it to him. “wanna watch?” you offered, moving the silicone cock in a playful manner.

leon’s eyes widened in surprise, but nodded.

he gulped and you watched as his adam’s apple bopped up with the swallow.

leon watched as you slipped off your panties and grabbed a bottle of lube. you quickly coated your pretty pussy and dildo with the thick cream and leaned back once more.

your pussy was on full display as you pressed the tip of the dildo against your puffy folds. “ready?” you asked softly as you bit your bottom lip.

this whole scene that was unfolding in front of leon felt like it was going to kill him. he’s seen your pussy before, he’s seen you fuck yourself before, but there was something different this time. it was all dedicated to him.

only him.

“yes,” he shuddered as he gripped his cock tightly, you smiled at him and slowly slipped the dildo inside of you. a soft sigh left your lips as your warm pussy sucked in the silicone, leon watched eagerly. like a kid in a candy store, he would kill to be the one inside you.

your squirmed and rolled your hips against the dildo, looking into the camera as your free hand moved to grip your tit. “oh, leon.” you moaned out, smirking as you watched your screen to see his reaction. “you feel so good..” you teased.

leon’s eyes widened when he heard you moan out his name, were you pretending it was him fucking you? did you want to send his heart into cardiac arrest?

this cock throbbed against his hand, begging for attention, pleading for leon to let it cum.

leon’s balls were heavy with cum, it was unbearable to keep teasing, but he couldn’t help it.

a small whine left leon’s lips as he slowly stroked his cock, watching as you fucked yourself with your dildo. “you think so?” leon replied back, his face felt hot as he spoke, he’s never done dirty talk through the phone. he was embarrassed, was he doing it right?

you nodded, smiling hazily at the camera, “mhm..” you trailed off as a small gasp left your lips, the dildo focused on fucking your pussy. your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the filling feeling of your dildo, the silicone ridges and fake veins pressing and molding your walls. your pace was steady, your head leaning to the side as you continued.

leon was getting the perfect view of your pretty face and your stuffed cunt. he could hear the soft squelches coming from your cunt as it sucked the dildo back inside eagerly. he watched as your pussy glistened with slick, his body aching, he wanted to be there with you. he wanted to feel you.

but the world was cruel towards leon, and all he could do is watch and pretend he was the one fucking you.

“you’re so big.” you babbled softly, watching your computer screen, watching his reaction. he shuddered and trembled, moving on his cock slowly.

leon shut his eyes and grunted, his head leaning back desperately as his body ached. he occasionally looked back at the screen, looking at you with such admiration behind his gaze. like he was admiring a beautiful painting.

he was so cute.

“y-yeah,” he groaned, his body feeling hot, it was overwhelming. he felt the thinnest sheet of sweat coat his body, a swirling feeling coming to his lower tummy, it felt like a tight pressure. “—am i making you feel good?” he whispered out, his eyes shutting as his hand continued to jerk his cock.

each jerk felt like a rush of electricity went through his veins, an electric shockwave whose only purpose was to bring pleasure.

you moved your hand down and gently began to toy with your clit, pressing on the puffy bud as you fucked yourself. “no one has ever made me feel like this, leon.” you teased, moaning out his name softly. it was like music to his ears.

he couldn’t take it anymore, he physically couldn’t hold back, he should’ve gotten a cock ring to try and make him last longer.

“m’gonna cum, i’m sorry—“ he babbled, feeling bad for cumming so fast, he just didn’t have the self control he used to have on his prime. his hand began to jerk his cock in a fast, sloppy pace. his chest was rising and falling rather quickly, unable to catch his breath as he chased his orgasm.

leon moved his phone, he kept it by his lap, but by the position you could see his aching cock.

“it’s okay, baby.” you mumbled out, watching as he neared his orgasm. his dick was pretty, the size was okay, the thickness was there, and his tip was bright red. his hand gripped his shaft, he had pretty hands. large and masculine, you even saw an expensive watch wrapped around his wrist. you knew he had money, how else would he be sending you such high donations, but something in your stomach fluttered when you noticed.

you continued to fuck your dildo into your pussy, trying to match his sloppy pace. “cum for me.” you hummed, your tone playful and laced with lust.

this was so hot.

leon shuddered and moaned, his hand continued to rub his cock raw, he clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tightly as he focused on cumming.

the pressure in his lower belly was so tight, but after a couple of more harsh jerks, the tight knot inside his stomach burst. his balls strained and tightened as cum began to spurt out of his tip. it was thick and milky, staining leon’s stomach and hand.

while he came, leon’s body trembled, his toes curled, and his back arched slightly as a loud moan left his lips. he didn’t mean to moan out like that, but with the circumstances he couldn’t help it. this was pure bliss, his body felt lighter and his head felt fuzzy. he continued to slowly stroke his cock as it throbbed, he rode out his orgasm, his cum still spewing out of his cock for a few more seconds before his body relaxed.

leon shuddered as his cock began to go soft in his hand, he grimaced as he looked at the cum that stained his hand before wiping it off against his sweats.

panting, leon looked back at his phone, his face was red and his whole body was hot.

“shit, i’m sorry, i wanted to wait for you.” leon said breathlessly, you shut your eyes and continued to toy with your clit as you shook your head. “don’t apologize, it was really hot.” you moaned out, fluttering your eyes open as you looked at the monitor, eyeing him up as he laid back panting.

your clit was puffy and slick, aching for more.

rolling your hips up, your hands continue to work against your cunt, making your legs twitch and tremble. putting on a show for the lonely man in front of you.

biting the inside of his cheek, leon watched desperately, if he was younger he probably would’ve gotten hard again as he watched, but his cock didn’t have enough strength to stand. it didn’t matter, now leon could finally appreciate you, your pretty face, your pretty body, and your pretty pussy.

he loved the faces you made, they were so genuine.

if he was fucking you, would you be making those faces too? god he hoped so.

by now, a specific heat blossomed by your clit as your finger toyed with it. your touch was gentle and light, it felt like your clit was burning in the hottest way as the nerves went on overdrive.

“fuck, fuck, fuck—“ you whined, your voice strained as you focused on breaking the tight knot inside your lower tummy.

leon shuddered, seeing the way your eyebrows furrowed as you bit your bottom lip, you were so cute. leon wanted to say something, but it was like his brain was a blank slate. he couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak, he just watched as your glistening pussy throb.

it didn’t take long for the knot to snap, and once it did, your body jolted as a loud whine of his name left your lips. your thighs clamped together while your hand stayed pressed between your legs, the silicone cock was nestled nicely inside you, warm and sticky.

your body trembled as you panted, your head leaning back against the seat as you regained your thoughts.

god.

leon has seen you cum various times before, sure, but there’s something so different about it here. it was mind boggling and his head felt dizzy, a shiver going down his spine.

this was all a private show, all of this was only for him. no one else was as lucky as he was, he felt like he was getting spoiled.

watching you unravel and cry out his name had leon’s brain oozing, he felt demented, like his brain had melted and he was left as a zombie. he could tilt his head over right now and watch as his melted brain would come spilling out.

metaphorically, of course.

you reveled in the afterglow of your climax, your pussy felt like it was pulsating and throbbing. slowly, your hazy gaze focused back on the screen and you locked eyes with leon.

he let out a breath as he looked at you, it felt like you were really looking into his eyes.

he still had no idea his camera was on and you could see how enamored he looked.

slowly, with a long, soft squelch, you pulled the dildo out of your sticky pussy. you moved the silicone up to your lips and leaned in closer to the camera before you licked off the slick that coated the toy.

your tongue moved slowly, and occasionally you would glance at the camera, making eye contact with him as you cleaned up your dildo and the only thing that ran through leon’s head as he watched was: i wish that was me.

squirming, leon felt like his mouth was salivating at the sight.

eventually, you finished licking off your dildo before you placed a gentle kiss on its head before you put it away, hidden away from what the camera could pick up. “liked that?” you mused, tilting your head to the side with a cute little smile. it was almost funny how cute you looked after you fucked yourself in front of him.

“yeah.” leon said quickly, gulping back saliva as he looked at you so dearly, “um,” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly, “..is it okay to talk more? if you have the time.” leon mumbled, because deep down, he still wanted to talk to you — to carry a conversation with you, to try and charm you.

looking at the time displayed on your monitor, you hummed, drawing it out to tease him slightly. after a few seconds that felt like an eternity for leon, you looked back at the camera and nodded. “of course, i have time.” you said, winking at the camera before you stood up and slipped your panties on. you left the chair for a second before you picked up your band shirt off the floor and slipped it on.

plopping back down on the chair, you smiled and looked back at the camera.

“so, tell me more about you, leon.”

≻ the call ended not too long ago, leon rested his phone down on his bed as he let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. his chest felt fuzzy and he felt giddy.

the two of you had spoke for a few hours and now that the call ended, leon yearned to hear your voice again.

he felt silly like this, but he couldn’t help it.

he missed your voice, your face, the way you moved your hands when you spoke, the small gestures you made when you talked about something you were passionate about.

he missed you.

reaching over for his flask, leon quickly popped it open and took another long swig. swallowing back his beloved whiskey like he was a dehydrated man drinking water, throughout the call, he hadn’t drank to try and not get drunk and ruin the moment. but now that the call ended and he had time, leon was happily swallowing back the whiskey.

hearing his phone buzz against his bed sheets, he reached out for it quickly, a swirl of excitement coming to him as he saw it was you that texted.

it was two attachments, a photo of your perky tits and another one of your computer screen — that’s where he saw it. he was on the screen.

the photo you had taken was when he had his phone down, getting a good angle of his side profile from the bottom. for the eyes of someone else, it was a good picture and he looked good. his hair was messy in just the right way, his adam’s apple was on display and given the fact his phone was down, the picture also captured his waist, chest, and shoulders. showing off his body underneath the shirt he wore.

it was a good photo, but leon’s heart dropped to the floor when he saw it.

had his camera been on the whole time? is that why there was a small red dot next to his selfie camera? clicking out of the photos, he read your text nervously, but after reading it, his face flushed.

taking back another swing of his flask, he shuddered.

‘you looked really good today ;)) wanna call again tomorrow? <3’

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#( 𝑣𝑚𝑝. ) 𝑔𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑐 ､､#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #leon vendetta #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #x reader #resident evil smut

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the-californicationist · 1 year ago

Text

he opens the mail

Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen. The only cure? Your pussy, apparently.

Warning: sex pollen tropes, extremely dubious consent, attempt at satire?, angry john price

“We’re never going to make this deadline. Laswell’s gonna kill me,” you complained, burying your head in the pile of envelopes and packages strewn over your desk.

“Did this to yourself, lass. Shoulda been keepin’ up with intel duty. Wee bit at a time, ‘s what I say,” Soap patted you on the shoulder, feigning pity.

You spent hours combing through the documents, and by the time everyone had gone to bed, your fingers were covered in paper cuts, and your vision was blurry from squinting at the poorly scrawled Cyrillic words.

You thought you were alone, and as you stood up to stretch and refill your coffee mug, Captain Price opened up the office door, scaring you half to death.

“Oh, hey Corporal,” he smiled and then furrowed his brow, “What are you still doing here?”

You sighed, pointing to the piles of documents,

“Laswell’s intel backlog. I’m the only one with a Level 3 linguistics cert for Russian, so here I am. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

He closed the door and sat down across from your seat, digging into the pile,

“I’m Level 3. Let’s finish it.”

“Captain, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’ve got more important things…”

Price shook his head, taking off his hat and hanging it on the chair back,

“Nah, tha’s alright, love. I’ll help ya. Get us a tea, yeah?”

You knew how he took his tea, and you hated that you did. Secretly, you were obsessed with him. He was always around, smelling like balsam wood and tobacco, looking like a gladiator, huge and capable in the most masculine way. It was hard to concentrate when he was nearby. Now that he had offered to help, you had to grin and bear it.

You worked together for a while, chatting, even laughing. It was nice. You had so much in common, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself much more at ease. Finally, three packages remained. You opened the first one and found little more than phone records for a local library. Unhelpful to say the least. Price opened a water bill, and he recognized the address of a recent Konni base location. Any intel at this point felt like a celebration. Then, the final box.

“Go on then. Show us the ending,” he smiled, handing it to you.

“Couldn’t take the joy of ripping up the last letter, Captain. Be my guest,” you smiled.

He chuckled, tearing into the envelope. In a flash, bright pink powder sprayed him directly in the eyes, and he writhed in pain, pinching them shut, his whole body going stiff.

“Fuck me!” He shouted.

“Hang on,” you ran over to the sink in the kitchenette, “Here’s some water. Get that shit out of your eyes.”

“Don’t,” he moved away from you like you were on fire, “Don’t touch me. Might be contagious.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your labored breathing, and you were immediately worried. You reached for your phone and called Laswell.

“Laswell, Price got anthraxed by one of the intel letters. What do you want us to do?”

She gasped,

“What? Shit. I’m on my way.”

She hung up on you. You watched Price slowly try to open his eyes. They were stained hot pink from the powder.

“You alright?” You asked him.

“Yeah, love,” he sighed, “Doesn’t hurt anymore. Feeling strange though. Laswell said she’s coming?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, just in case.”

He nodded, running his hand along the inside of his collar. The captain was sweaty and a little pale.

“Captain, are you okay?”

“Mmm, no,” he shook his head, “Something’s not right, love.”

He stood and went to the sink, washing as much of the powder off as he could. You moved away from him and stationed yourself across the room, praying for Laswell to hurry.

Price was in a bad way. He took off his shirt, and he was still dripping with beads of sweat. You tried not to stare, but his temperature wasn’t the only thing heating up. His huge cock was making a prominent tent in his pants, but he was in too much pain to bother hiding it. You felt yourself blushing, and you willed yourself to pull it together.

“…fuckin’ hell,” his hand went to his crotch to squeeze his length, trying to find some relief, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” you said politely, trying to breathe normally, but feeling the slick rush melt between your legs.

“It’s makin’ me…feel…bloody hell. I can’t hold it off. Can…can you…? No! No, what the fuck am I sayin’? No,” he shook his head, rubbing his hands down his face, hot and very bothered.

You inched closer to him,

“If I haven’t been affected yet, I’m sure it’s okay. How should I help you?”

“No! No, stay back. I’m not…I can’t think straight. My mind’s got one thing on it,” he shoved his hands beyond his zipper and began to jerk himself off, his dick making lurid noises with his hand.

You hated seeing him so helpless. You moved to his side,

“Cap, it’s okay. Let me help you.”

His hand was around your throat in milliseconds. Price shoved you against the wall and began to kiss your mouth, furiously laving his tongue against yours.

“No, no, no,” he whispered through his kisses, not bothering to pull away as he spoke his lamentations.

You made the mistake of putting your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He moaned, trembling beneath your touch,

“Ahh, careful.”

“Sorry,” you pulled your hands away, still trapped in his firm grip around your neck, “did I hurt you?”

“No, doesn’t hurt.”

He said it in a way that darkly implied your touch was igniting a different kind of fire. You put your hands back where they were, and his eyes shot open, piercing through yours with a lustful rage. Unexpectedly, he ripped off your shirt and lay you down on the black leather couch in the corner of the office. He crushed you with his weight, kissing you deeply.

Then, your phone rang. He didn’t allow you to pause, so it went to voicemail. It rang again. You were getting just as hot as he was, and you weren’t that interested in who was looking for you in the middle of the night. Until, however, the door to the office burst wide open and Laswell and Gaz burst through it.

Price snarled. You’d never heard a man make that noise before. Laswell put her hands on her hips while Gaz tried to shield his face in shock. Laswell rubbed her forehead, frustrated,

“Are his eyes pink, Corporal?”

You escaped his jaws for a moment,

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s a sex drug. Forces the user to fornicate as it is only passed through the body in seminal fluid, dissolving in the heat of another person’s body. Are you volunteering here? What happened?”

Her tone was so matter of fact, it was a little humorous, if Price’s length wasn’t rutting against you in earnest, you might've laughed. You tried to explain as much as he would allow,

“Got too close… just… happened. How…” you moaned as Price pulled down the strap of your bra and helped himself to your nipple, “How did you know?”

She sighed, typing something into her datapad,

“Checked the incident log from this afternoon. Four more cases of this have popped up in intel collections. Gonna have to screen for it next time.”

She turned to walk out of the office with Gaz, and you called after her,

“Hey, wait! How long does it - oh, fuck… how long does it last?”

Laswell had the audacity to smirk at you, raising her eyebrows and cutting her eyes at Price’s swollen cock, lolling out of his pants, scraping itself against you.

“Eight hours. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, Corporal. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

Part 2

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

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chigsprincess · 6 days ago

Text

That’s MY lover

ওㅤ ㅤ*̩̩͙‧͙*˚⁺‧͙ when another guy starts flirting with you in front of them -y.isagi, m.kaiser, s.nagi, r.shidou, m.bachira, h.chigiri

Isagi Yoichi

He is very confused at first. Can’t this guy see he is your boyfriend?

Then he realises that he is very much aware, he just doesn’t care.

He actually gets pretty pissed about it, and pulls you closer to him instantly.

Ask’s him nicely to leave, since he can tell it’s bothering you as well.

If he still doesn’t get the hint, he’ll probably walk away with you so you don’t feel uncomfortable anymore. Not without turning back to flip the guy off though.

Kaiser Michael

Fuming, boiling, borderline thinking about murder. On the inside at least. Outside? Cool as a cucumber.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He knows you are not stupid enough to leave him. It’s the audacity that pisses him off.

How can you walk up to the Kaiser and his partner, and start spouting some nonsense about treating you better than he could.

Is Michael an asshole? Yes. Is he a cocky bastard? Also yes. Is he self aware about these things? Hell yeah. But he worships the ground you walk on. No one can treat you better than him. Period.

Tells the person to ‘fuck off’ then turns back to talking to you like nothing happened. You two just ignore him until he feels uncomfortable enough to leave.

Nagi Seishiro

“Is this guy serious?”

Nagi has no intentions of dealing with someone like that. He is a pacifist after all and he also knows you can handle yourself just fine.

Still places a hand on your tight to ‘mark his territory.’

Only intervenes if the guy really can’t take a hint. He tells them off in an effortlessly cool way.

“As if someone as amazing as my partner would be interested in someone who can’t even understand the word no.”

Pulls you closer to him, so you feel safe and comfortable.

Shidou Ryusei

He’s just enjoying the show with his arm wrapped around your waist.

Gives unsolicited advice to the guy.

“No, don’t say that, they won’t like it. Try again.”

Cheers him on until he gets bored of his stupid face and stupid words.

Switches up as soon as he senses you becoming distressed.

“Okay now you get lost. No one upsets my gorgeous lover but me.” He says with a glare that’s paired with an uncanny smile. That should be more than enough to get them to back off.

Bachira Meguru

Poor sunshine boy hates it soo much.

As soon as the guy walks up to compliment your hair, he is front of you saying things like: “Yeah! My partner is the prettiest!” or “The love of my life is seriously amazing! Hope you find your person soon!” With the most condescending smile ever.

Runs away with you before the guy could really get into it.

Kisses you a hundred times, mumbling about the audacity of people nowadays.

He bounces back after some sweet reassuring words though, so just be nice to him.

Chigiri Hyoma

This was a weird misunderstanding.

A group of guys walked up to the two of with the clear intention of picking you up. Which would be fine in itself, if they didn’t refer to him as a girl.

Your tummy was starting to hurt from all the laughing you did while your boyfriend explained to them that he is in fact a guy and you two are a couple.

They are super apologetic and chill about it, and still invite you to have coffee with them in a platonic way this time.

At least you guys made some friends.

Once again you are reminded of the fact that your boyfriend is prettier than you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

word count: 640

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yanderenightmare · 7 months ago

Text

♡ TW: noncon, nsfw, morally grey reader

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about your loser colleague… He’s the nerdiest guy, and he’s got the biggest, fattest crush on you—and it makes him utterly blind to all your tricks and how you manipulate him to do your work around the office like your own personal errand boy.

You’re not mean. You swear it! You’re not mean—you know it’s wrong of you to enjoy and abuse his attention like this without any intention of ever reciprocating it! Of course, you know it’s awful of you to string him along, never telling him you’re not into him like that, that he’s wasting his time on you, that he should move on. You’re a nice girl! You promise! Of course, if he were to actually confess, you’d tell him the truth at once! You’d let him down easy. But as it stands right now, he hasn’t asked—and so it’s innocent—both his unworded crush and your unspoken flattery. Sure, it might be a little narcissistic, but it’s not a crime for a girl to bask in attention!

Do you lead him on? Mh… well… not exactly. You’re being nice, is all. Sure, some might call what you do flirting back, but you act that way with plenty of people, not just him. If he reads into it, that’s on him. Right?

Okay, fine, so you’re a little mean. So what? Is it really so wrong of you to play with him just a little bit? No. Or… at least not entirely. Think about it—in a way, you’re making his day with your little tricks. How you return his long longing stares with your own lingering looks and coy smiles—taking him outside with you to smoke during your break, talking to him in giggles over small inside jokes you’ve developed between just the two of you, applying your lipgloss all exaggeratingly as they do in the movies, borrowing his jacket when it gets too cold for you in your inappropriate tops, squeezing your arms tightly over your chest, making your tits squish up to meet him and his shameful leer.

Truly, adults shouldn't act this way—but you just can’t help yourself!

And it’s not as if he isn’t equally guilty! Looking at you like that! It’s not as if you don’t know exactly what perverted little thoughts go tumbling through his head—picturing you naked in compromising positions, probably playing with your image like a toy doll, dressing you up in kinky clothes to fit all his dirty fantasies, making you say all sorts of vile things for him.

You’re both awful! So it’s fine. A quid pro quo, as they call it. A tit for tat if you’re nasty.

And honestly, a nerdy guy like him should know better. A pretty girl like you—popular and a sweetheart, to top it all off—he can’t seriously believe he has an actual chance, can he? Of course not—that would make him delusional. You’re not torturing him. In any case, he’s torturing himself!

And you seriously think he might just keep it up forever.

But you might be going too far this time—laying it on too thick—stretching him too thin—asking him to drive you home after an office party, giggling and all but moaning all your words in the passenger seat next to him, wearing nothing but a short little black slip, no bra, no nothing except for a pair of strappy little heals.

“Oh! What a night—these shoes are killing me!” you sigh while taking them both off as he drives. Even in your drunk state, you can see the way his hands tighten around the wheel and how he shifts all uncomfortably in his seat, breathing thickly—it makes you smile.

You throw your head back in relief once they’re both off—chest jutting forth as you rub your thighs together. And he swallows thickly—jaw clenched so tight, he couldn’t say anything even if he had anything to say. But you know he doesn’t—you, with your milky skin on display, have rendered him speechless.

Your smile curls at the corners, and you know it’s cruel, but you have absolutely no idea how to reel it in anymore. He makes you feel like an untouchable goddess being worshipped—makes you want to laugh as he bows his head in the dirt and prays to you with all he has.

Oh, the poor boy, you’ve got him wound so tightly around your little finger—you don’t even know how to release him anymore. You’re both in way too deep, it’s getting hard for either of you to think clearly anymore.

“I’ll follow you in—just to make sure you get to bed safely,” he offers once stopping outside your place. And lost to the wine in your bloodstream, you haven’t the slightest little hang-up over how he knows your address without having asked.

Completely oblivious, you keep floating on cloud nine, smiling while murmuring, “What a nice guy~ How ‘bout you carry me up the steps as well—”

You’d meant it as a tease, but he takes it in all manners of seriousness, rounding the car, opening your door, and then scooping you up before your bare feet even have the chance of meeting the pavement below—but you don’t complain.

Only cheering, “Oh~”

It’s surprising, maybe even a little bit impressive. He’s tall, but he looks more lean than anything—like an overgrown boy—a far cry from a rugged man of strength, but here he is, acting just so, carrying you like a princess—with ease, you might add. But you suppose it’s been hard for you to tell his true build from beneath those big, cozy sweaters he always wears. Resting on it now, you can tell his chest is actually quite firm.

“I didn’t know you were so strong~" You keep flirting, paying no mind to how his hands grope into your exposed skin—you can allow him that much. Otherwise, feeling too swept up in your own feminine guiles—aroused by your sheer seductiveness—hot and bothered and thinking you’re going to touch yourself to yourself tonight and laugh about how you have the poor office loser waiting on you, hands and knees.

You find your keys in your clutch and unlock the door from the cradle of his arms—before you’re carried inside like a queen, all the way to your bedroom, where he lays you down gently on your bed.

You sigh happily at the soft, nice embrace—feeling successful while melting into the cakey mattress—all but ready to find your vibe and ride the high. That is, until feeling a certain pair of hands start undressing you.

“Hey—what’re you doing?” you jolt, gripping your dress in a panic—looking shock-eyed into his round ones.

“Just making you comfortable,” he says softly, looking a little bit like a kicked pup—making your nerves return calm.

Oh, of course, he is—you can’t blame a guy for trying. However, there are limits to what’s allowed in this little game of yours. And you think that’s crossing one.

“Thanks, but…” You chuckle—faking being shy while batting your lashes. “That wouldn’t be appropriate. You see—” Voice sultry as you admit, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.”

How you have the gall to keep teasing him is beyond you, and so you keep blaming it all on liquid courage—otherwise, certain the devil is making you do it.

“Thanks for taking me home, though.”

You smile before turning to rest on your side, facing away from where he stands by your bedside with hope in his poor eyes—oh, you almost feel bad—if only your well-fed ego weren’t already making you feel on top of the world.

“You can leave the key beneath the welcome matt. Drive safely. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Eyes closed in bliss while grinning from ear to ear, you’ve come to terms with your terrible nature and have found the perfect way of sleeping at night despite it. Your poor colleague, so hopelessly infatuated with you and such a sucker for it—making you relive your mean girl queen bee school days all over again.

It’s the drink! You swear! It makes you feel all types of demonic—wanting to play with your favorite toy—see just how far you can take it before making him break. But, as always, one should be careful what one wishes for.

“You know…” A dark voice occupies your bedroom. From behind you. You’d thought he’d left already—gone out to his car to beat his blue-balled cock to his fantasy of you, but no.

“Playing hard to get is one thing…” he continues. “Being a stuck-up bitch is another.”

You try to whip around, but it’s too late by then.

“You’ve had your fun with me. It’s time I have my fun with you.”

Nothing could have prepared you for his sudden change—the moment when all your teasing and tricks finally made him snap!

He’s on top of your back. Straddling you—a heavy hand in your hair, pushing your face back down into the soft mattress below, while the other hand picks your dress up, pulling over your butt and leaving it exposed.

“Hey! What are you—” You try to make him calm down—to stop—but it’s as though nothing you say has any impact—or, no—instead, it has the complete opposite effect of what you want.

A sharp feeling blossoms across your ass cheek. It takes a moment before you realize he’d hit you—spanked you.

His grip on your hair tightens, pulls your face up to meet him where he leans down to your ear—voice venom-laced and shy of unhinged, “You’ve enjoyed yourself tonight, haven’t you? Teasing and toying with me—thinking I’ll just sit back and take it.”

His hand digs between your thighs—slipping through despite how you mend them shut—now dragging his fingers through your puffy slit, forcing two inside your tightly needy hole, uncaring to the cry it reaps from you.

“I’m the one who made your pussy wet like this, so it’s only right I have my way with it.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Nanami, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kageyama ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Isagi ♡ WB – Sakura, Suo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

3K notes · View notes

ferrstappen · 19 days ago

Text

all because i liked a boy l MV1

a/n: so... hey, its been SO LONG! this is a series i've been thinking about since like September last year?? and it's been sitting on my drafts forever and finally got the inspo and some help to finish it <3 i really hope you like the concept <3 i have the idea for a fourth song but i'll wait to see if you guys like it <3

pairing: Max Verstappen x female!singer!reader

word count: 5.3

summary: three songs summarize your relationship with Max.

first song: into you - ariana grande

There wasn’t a single person who didn’t wish to be a fly on the wall everytime Max Verstappen met his fellow Tag Heur sponsor, a true pop star, and the stuff of all his problems.

Max had never been too fond of all the publicity that came with his job, he mentioned it every time there was a chance to: “I’m only here to race”. His statement remained truthful, but he couldn’t deny he now looked forward some events, dressing up and showing up.

He met her the same week she was announced as a brand ambassador in the middle of her world tour. It had been during the Monaco Grand Prix weekend, thousands of cameras on them while posing. Max was never rude, but he noticed she looked almost nervous to meet him and anxious every time someone from her or the Red Bull PR team asked for some kind of contest, it all made sense when she apologized to him at the end.

“I know you’re not fond of these things so I hope you don’t hold it against me,” Those were the first words she said to him when there were no microphones on their clothes. Maybe someone was recording their interaction, but it wasn’t important.

“What? I know you don’t have anything to do with it, I’m sorry if I came across as if I was bothered or something, I promise you I wasn’t. Plus, you must be exhausted as well,” Max said earning a smile from her and it was beautiful, kind.

It made his own smile reach the crinkle by his blue eyes, lasting a bit longer than necessary for someone he just met, the taste of his champagne a little sweeter.

(Y/N) spent the night stalking him and his girlfriend, she was stunning and they even had a small family of sorts. She had to remind herself he was just being nice, maybe too nice, but the adoration came from her part after hearing his laugh and realizing the smile reached his eyes, and the way his tongue pressed against his lips when his smile got too big, or how he held his breath every time he said something funny, waiting for her laugh.

And she was so weak for it, for him. Even if she wasn’t supposed to, but the events kept coming, the silk dresses and bold lipstick every time they saw each other, posing together, feeling Max’s big, warm hand on her back, hiding from the world to see.

There was something quietly cinematic about hotel lobbies after midnight; the way the light softened, the silence pressed in, footsteps sounded hesitant, taxis coming and going every few minutes. Max wasn’t supposed to be there, not anymore at least. He’d said goodnight hours ago, disappeared into the elevator with a tired smile and the promise of an early flight.

But there he was.

Still in his suit, tie long forgotten, blond hair a little messier now, he sat at the far end of the bar with a half-finished gin and tonic and that unreadable look on his face, the one he always wore when his mind was loud but his words weren’t exactly ready.

(Y/N) hesitated in the entry to the lavish hotel bar, silk dress and Crocs, makeup a little smudged at the corners. She hadn’t expected anyone else to still be up, let alone him, but something about the way he looked at her: just once, then away, like it stung, made her cross the room anyway.

(Y/N) sat down two stools away, close enough to hear him breathe, far enough that they weren’t really next to each other, allowing to feel the space left between.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked softly.

Max didn’t look at her at first. Just shook his head. “No. Happens after race weekends sometimes. My brain doesn’t shut off, it’s annoying”

She nodded like she understood. Because she did, but still needed to add something. “Maybe if you didn’t spend your free time sim racing…”

He glanced over at her, briefly before chuckling. “Your performance was great tonight, I meant to tell you earlier.”

Her laugh was soft, tired. “You looked miserable the entire event.”

He smiled at that. A real one. The kind that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I was,” Max admitted. “But that part? I liked that part.”

Silence wrapped around them again, not heavy, just full; full of things they’d never said out loud. Full of questions neither of them had the right to ask.

She traced the rim of her glass with one finger. “She seems really lovely.”

Max’s jaw twitched, dreading the subject. “She is.”

(Y/N) didn’t look at him. She just nodded.

“You two look like you’ve got it all figured out.”

There was a pause.

Max exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

Another pause.

She turned her head slightly, finally meeting his eyes. “I hate how easy it is to talk to you.”

Something flickered in his expression. “I know,” he said quietly. “I hate it, too.”

That was it. That was everything.

No closeness. No touching. Just two people sitting in the space between what they wanted and what they’d already promised to other people. His fingers tapped against his glass. Her foot brushed the leg of the stool, never his.

They never touched.

“I should go,” she said eventually.

Max nodded, blue eyes unreadable again. “Yeah.”

But neither of them moved right away. It was always like that, every moment together stretching a little too long, never enough to say it out loud, just enough to feel it.

“Goodnight, Max.”

As he listened to those words he looked at her, really looked. Eyes searching, almost soft, like if he were someone else, or if this were some other life, he might have reached for her hand.

But this wasn’t that story.

“Goodnight,” he said, voice low. “Get some sleep.”

And she walked away, yearning and aching, while he sat there and tried not to watch her go, downing the gin and tonic.

It had been weeks since Monaco, since the late-night conversations, the unspoken things that lingered between them like ghosts. Weeks since they’d exchanged half-joking texts about everything, from memes about their awkward PR moments fans were always catching to random race weekend observations. She had a unique way of making him laugh, of sending him a meme at the perfect time, of pulling him out of the swirling thoughts in his head, the never-ending doubts.

They hadn’t met again. She’d been on tour, he’d been in the midst of a brutal racing schedule. Texting became their way of staying connected; casual, light, a little flirty at times, but never anything real. Max never tried to cross the line, he had a girlfriend after all. It wasn’t fair to her, to her daughter, maybe even the cats. And yet, a part of him couldn't shake the pull he felt toward (Y/N), the spark that crackled just beneath the surface of every message.

Tonight, though, something was different. He had his phone in his hand, staring at the screen, unable to stop scrolling through social media. Her new song had just dropped and everyone was talking about it.

Into You was everywhere. Fans were loving it, critics were praising her for its rawness, the production, the passion. But Max couldn’t ignore the comments, somewhere, buried among the endless comments of hearts, praise, flames and verified accounts, there was a new question being whispered in his direction.

Is this song about Max Verstappen?

At first, it was just one or two fans joking around in the comments, but the more he scrolled (something he wasn’t proud of), the more the question popped up. People started comparing lyrics, dissecting moments they’d shared, and the strange way they’d clicked, not the pairing people would expect.

Max’s thumb hovered over the screen and his heart kicked up a little. He couldn’t shake the idea from his mind.

Was it possible? Was the song about him?

It didn’t help that he hadn’t heard from (Y/N) in a few days. Maybe she was busy just like him, tour life and all that, but now the questions on his mind felt heavier. He clicked into their text thread, reading through the last few messages. She’d sent him a meme a couple of days ago, a funny one about him winning the race in Japan. He’d replied with a laughing emoji, as usual. It felt like the normal thing between them, but now everything felt loaded.

Max felt a sudden need to reach out, to ask her, but at the same time, he hesitated. What if he was just overthinking it? What if it was nothing? She was a pop star, a professional, she was just being friendly. He was that guy, the guy who made it awkward, not very expressive, with a girlfriend…

But then again... He had to know.

He tapped out a message, then deleted it, then tapped it again.

hey

I know you're busy, but are you okay? Haven't heard from you in a while.

A beat passed before he added another text, the words lingering like a weight on his fingers.

btw, i've been seeing a lot of stuff about your song.. people are asking if its about me.

Max thought his heart was going to explode, feeling the beating on his ears.

Is it?

He immediately regretted it, his fingers hovering over the screen as he debated whether to just delete it all and pretend he didn’t do it. But before he could second guess himself, the text was gone.

(Y/N) had just finished a soundcheck when she saw the notification.

A new text from Max.

Her heart had dropped when she saw his name on the screen. She had been trying to ignore the way people were talking about her song, trying to stay focused on the tour, but now? The thing with Max had been gnawing at her for weeks. They had their moments, maybe too many moments, and now the world was starting to ask if it was all more than just playful text exchanges and rare promo outings.

She took a deep breath and opened his message, quickly scanning the words. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the last question.

Is it?

She should’ve been surprised by the question, but she wasn’t, she’d been expecting it to come up at some point. People weren’t stupid, they saw the chemistry between them, the tension in the air that neither of them had really addressed. Not out loud at least.

But she hadn’t planned on answering this way. She’d wanted to pretend it was nothing. She wanted to deflect, to tell him it was just a song, a moment, nothing more. But that seemed... dishonest.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She should just say it was nothing. Keep it professional. But she couldn’t lie. Not to him. Not to herself.

I don’t know what people are picking up on, but I’ll be honest

i wrote it about someone who... made me feel things I didn’t expect??? Things I wasn’t sure I could handle

but it’s not just about one person, you know?

It’s about that feeling of wanting someone who feels just out of reach, even when they’re right in front of you. Yearning, you know??

She stared at the text, the words too real, too raw. She didn’t hit send immediately.

What if he thought she was talking in circles? What if this was just a terrible idea?

She hit send anyway.

Max read her reply, and for a moment, his heart stopped. He could feel the weight of her words even through the screen of his phone. There was no denying it now, she’d just put it all out there: the feeling, the pull, the tension. It was all there in the lines between the words. And in that moment, Max knew he wasn’t the only one who’d been holding on to something unsaid, that he tried to convince was only in his head.

His thumb hovered over his phone as he thought about his reply. Should he be honest? Should he ask if what they both felt was the same thing? Or should he leave it alone?

He texted her back quickly, without thinking. I’ve been feeling it too. More than I should, probably.

He sent it before he could stop himself.

The text was out there now, and there was no taking it back. He waited, heart in his throat, as the dots on her side of the conversation appeared and disappeared.

But this time, when her reply finally came, it wasn’t a meme. It wasn’t a joke.

It was the truth.

i know

and i think that's why we both keep avoiding it.

Max stared at the screen, his heart racing, the world outside disappearing as he thought about the next step. What would happen if they really admitted everything they’d been dancing around? Would they be able to keep pretending? Would the media and fans turn their attention into something they couldn’t control?

He didn’t know.

But for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure if he cared anymore.

second song: touch it - ariana grande

The weeks that followed were torturous.

Max couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/N), about their conversation, the way her words had lingered long after their texts had stopped. He couldn’t ignore whatever it was happening between them, the ache that grew every time he saw her name pop up on his phone, every time she sent him a meme or just a quick check-in. Their playful banter had always been a way to keep things light, but now it felt like they were walking a razor-thin line between friendship and something far more dangerous.

He’d tried to push it all away, focusing on the races, the endless press obligations, the girlfriend who had been by his side for years. He couldn’t just throw everything away, couldn’t tear apart the life he had, the one that made sense, the one that was steady, reliable. His girlfriend didn’t deserve to be hurt, he knew that.

But the more he tried to ignore it, the more impossible it became to escape.

And then, "Touch It" came out.

(Y/N)’s voice poured through his speakers one late night in a hotel room, and it hit him like a punch to the gut. The song wasn’t subtle. It was a breathless anthem of need, of longing, of reaching for something that was just out of grasp. She had written it, and he knew—he knew—it was about them. About him. About that feeling they couldn’t escape. The way she felt when they were together, the way they both held on to the tension between them like it was a lifeline.

It was a confession in a song, raw and unfiltered, and it echoed everything that had been simmering under the surface for weeks.

Max couldn’t stop listening to it. Couldn’t stop hitting replay as he drove through the city streets, as he sat in his hotel room preparing for the next race. Every time the chorus hit, he could feel the burn in his chest.

Cause every time I see you, I don’t wanna behave. I’m tired of being patient so let’s pick up the pace.

The words raked across his skin, and for the first time in a long time, the temptation felt overwhelming, his skin felt too warm, his hands aching.

He wanted it. Wanted her. Wanted to be close to her. He was drawn to her like he was drawn to the track, fast, reckless, and completely out of control.

But he had a girlfriend waiting at home.

And they both deserved better.

Max had tried. He really had, but every time (Y/N) popped up in his messages, it was harder to fight it. Texts were more frequent now, words lingered longer, carried more weight. The emojis felt heavier, the tone of the messages softer, more intimate.

They were dancing around it, playing with fire, and neither of them had the courage to admit what they both wanted.

It had been a long week of racing, and Max was exhausted when he arrived back at the hotel, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He stepped into his room, the familiar quiet pressing in around him. His girlfriend was waiting in the room next door. She was asleep when he checked in, and for the first time, the thought of being with her didn’t bring him comfort. Instead, he felt restless, empty in a way he couldn’t explain.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and of course it was a text from her.

I know you’re tired but I miss you…

You ever feel like something’s just too hard to let go of, even if it’s the right thing?

The words hit him like a ton of bricks and suddenly the room felt too small. Too quiet. The space between was non-existent, and every message, every word they shared, felt like walking straight into a precipice, the bottom just waiting for what was inevitably going to happen.

His fingers hovered over the screen for a long moment. She was waiting for him to respond. But he knew if he answered this text, it would change everything.

Max ran a hand through his hair, staring at the text. The sound of the rain tapping against the window was the only thing filling the silence. He could hear his girlfriend moving in the other room, soft noises of her trying to sleep, but the distance between them felt miles wide.

Finally, he typed.

I can’t stop thinking about you

I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop.

He hit send, heart pounding in his chest.

(Y/N) didn’t reply immediately. The anticipation gnawed at him. Was she thinking the same thing? Was this going to go too far? Did she want the same thing he did?

Minutes passed, and just when he thought he’d made a mistake, his phone buzzed again.

Then don’t.

Come to me, come see me.

I’m not the one who’s going to stop you

The words burned like fire, sharp and undeniable. He couldn’t breathe.

He stared at the message, every part of him screaming to throw caution to the wind. To give in, just this once. To take what he wanted without thinking of the consequences. Without thinking of his girlfriend, of the other life he had built, the life he was supposed to protect.

Max stood up, pacing across the room, his mind whirling. The song, her words, her invitation. It all came rushing back, like a flood he couldn’t stop and temptation was too much, unbearable.

Without another thought, he grabbed his jacket, keys, and headed out the door.

She was waiting when he arrived. There was a calmness in her eyes when she opened the door, but Max was able to see through it, the way her lips parted when she saw him, the slight tremble in her breath, it was too much to ignore. She knew. They both knew what was about to happen.

“You came,” she whispered, stepping back to let him in.

Max didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The words were lost to him as his body moved forward, drawn to her like a magnet, like he couldn’t stop himself anymore.

Because he couldn’t, he had crossed the line.

When their lips met, it was everything he had been denying. The kiss was slow, hungry, desperate. It was everything they had been holding back for weeks. Every unspoken word, every glance, every text, they were all there, alive in this single moment.

But as their hands roamed, and the world outside seemed to disappear, the weight of it all began to sink in. He was betraying everything. Everything.

It wasn’t just the physical act, it was the knowledge that he’d crossed a line, that the thing he’d feared, even if it was inevitable, was now real.

But in that moment, with (Y/N) on his arms, his blue eyes finding hers, he didn’t care.

The next morning, Max woke up to an empty room.

She was gone, all trace of her gone, leaving the Monte-Carlo hotel room empty.

The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the bed, but everything felt wrong. The space next to him was cold.

His phone buzzed again, and for a brief moment, he hoped it was her. But it wasn’t. It was his girlfriend, asking if he was okay, asking why he hadn’t answered her texts.

Max swallowed hard, guilt and shame rising in his chest. The weight of what he’d done, the mess he’d created, crushed him in an instant.

And in the silence that followed, he realized: He couldn’t run from this anymore.

He was caught. And it was only a matter of time before the truth came crashing down.

The break-up wasn’t loud.

Max had expected yelling, accusations, maybe tears, but when he told her, when he finally looked her in the eyes and said he couldn’t keep pretending, she just sat there. Quiet. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, like she already knew.

“Is it her?” she asked, not even needing to say the name.

Max looked down at his hands, jaw tight. “It’s... not just about her.”

But it was.

It always had been.

He didn’t say he cheated. He didn’t say what happened the night before, hours ago. But maybe he didn’t need to. Maybe she saw it in his face, in the guilt buried behind his eyes, in the way his voice cracked when he said, “I haven’t been fair to you.”

She didn’t cry. She just stood up, nodded once, and walked away. Max didn’t try to stop her.

After that, everything changed.

He stayed away from (Y/N).

No texts. No emojis. No late-night memes. Not even a “hey” when she posted behind-the-scenes shots from her tour.

He watched, though.

Watched her perform, watched her smile through interviews, watched the fans scream her lyrics back to her like they knew her pain, like they knew him. Every lyric felt like a reflection, like a memory wrapped in melody so beautifully created by her.

The rumors exploded overnight.

Max Verstappen and (Y/N): Something More Than Friends?

New Song “Touch It” Sparks More Speculation About F1 Star

Inside Their Secret Friendship—And What His Ex-Girlfriend Might Know

Social media ate it up. Paparazzi started showing up at both their events. Journalists tried to sneak questions into press conferences. He could hear it, feel it, the way people looked at him now.

Every time a camera flashed, every time someone said her name around him, his chest tightened.

Because what could he say?

Yes, I wanted her. Yes, I kissed her. Yes, I broke someone’s heart. Yes, I broke my own too.

But he kept quiet. Let the world build its version of the story.

And the worst part? She did too.

(Y/N) never spoke about him. Not in interviews, not in casual conversation, not online. She posted photos of her tour crew, messy dressing rooms, crowded arenas, sandy white beaches, but all trace of him was gone, the subtle ones only he knew existed, as if erasing him from the narrative could somehow erase the way he had touched her life and body and then left it in pieces, because she never thought leaving that morning meant leaving forever, that he would just disappear.

But Max missed her, constantly, and it wasn’t like the word let him forget either.

He missed the way she teased him in texts, the way her voice softened when she said his name. He missed how easy it had felt to just exist with her, no performance, no pressure. Just them, in the quiet in-between spaces.

He told himself staying away was the right thing. The honorable thing. That maybe it was better this way, if she hated him a little, if she moved on without him. Maybe she should hate him. He’d touched something sacred between them and let it fall apart.

But then he’d hear her songs about him on the radio, and it was like the ache rewrote itself all over again.

They saw each other once.

Weeks later.

By accident.

At a TAG Heuer event in Paris, neutral ground, surrounded by cameras and managers and fake laughter. She was dressed in a black suit, her hair slicked back, red lipstick like a warning sign. She looked stunning. Powerful. Untouchable.

Max didn’t know she would be there.

And she definitely hadn’t expected him.

Their eyes met across the room. Just for a second.

And everything came rushing back.

The tension. The pull. The memory of hands on skin and words they couldn’t take back.

But they didn’t speak.

Someone stepped between them, an assistant, a handler, and just like that, the moment passed.

She turned first. Walked away like he was nothing.

He didn’t follow.

Later that night, she posted a photo from the event. A carousel: behind-the-scenes snaps, her laughing with her stylist, a close-up of her heels, her red lips, her watch.

He wasn’t in any of them, not even his shadow.

Max saw it at 2 a.m., lying awake in his hotel bed, the room too quiet, too cold. Thinking that maybe they could be spending this time together, holding her in his arms.

He stared at the screen for a long time.

Then he put his phone down.

And didn’t text her.

Not this time.

third song: because i liked a boy - sabrina carpenter

It started with a post.

Black and white. A photo of her in the studio, headphones half-off, mascara smudged, eyeliner sharp. She wasn’t posing for the camera—just staring at the wall like she was somewhere else entirely.

The caption was short:

“they wrote the narrative. i just sang the truth.”

And then the song dropped.

Because I Liked a Boy wasn’t subtle. It was messy. Angry. Beautiful. A punch to the chest. She didn’t name names, but she didn’t need to.

“Now I’m a homewrecker, I’m a slut I got death threats fillin’ up semi-trucks Tell me who I am, guess I don’t have a choice All because I liked a boy…”

The internet exploded.

Max watched it all unfold from behind his screen. Headlines flared. Twitter caught fire. Her name was trending for days, right next to his. Theories. TikToks. Threads with screenshots, breakdowns of their eye contact, fans zooming in on the way his smile lingered in her direction.

His ex girlfriend didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. The silence said enough. The world filled in the blanks for her.

And (Y/N)?

She said only what mattered. Through the lyrics.

Max played the song again. And again. And again. He could barely breathe through it.

It was all there, how they’d stolen moments, how she’d been painted as the villain for something they both started. And he’d let her take the fall. He let the world chew her up while he stayed silent, tucked behind PR teams and blank expressions.

But he missed her. God, he missed her.

He hadn’t texted her. Not since that night were his body was faster than his brain.

But he started watching her again, quietly.

He liked one post. Then another. A photo of her in a studio. A video of her laughing backstage with her team. Then a blurry mirror selfie with no caption.

The fans noticed. Of course they did.

max verstappen liking y/n’s post after 84 years??

he’s lurking and she KNOWS.

just date already omg

But she didn’t follow him or whatever it was he was doing; didn’t like his photos, did her best to avoid all the edits and side-by-side comparisons of her lyrics and his interviews. She was silent. Untouchable.

And maybe she was done with him. Maybe he’d hurt her too much. Maybe her silence now was the same silence he gave her when she needed him most.

But Max couldn’t stop.

He typed out messages at night.

I miss you.

I was a coward.

I should’ve defended you.

I still think about you. All the time.

He deleted them all.

Until one night, after a difficult race in Brazil, in the middle of a triple header, exhausted, emotionally wrecked, sitting in a hotel room with rain sliding down the windows, he typed something different.

Simpler. Honest.

I listened to the song.

A minute passed.

Then five.

Then ten.

No reply.

He let the phone sit beside him, the silence deafening, preparing himself for nothing, trying to convince himself it was for the best.

But then, finally, it buzzed.

Of course you did, everyone did.

His heart clenched. The coolness in her message cut deeper than a scream would have. But he kept going.

I know I should’ve said something

I should’ve protected you

There was a pause.

He stared at the screen like it was going to fix everything, like honesty could undo what silence had cemented.

Finally, she replied.

You didn’t have to protect me, I never wanted that from you and you know it

I just didn’t want to be alone in it

That was it. The wound, wide open.

Max closed his eyes. He wanted to call her, to get on a plane, to show up at her door. But it wasn’t his timing anymore. It was hers.

So, he sent one last message.

I don’t want to be someone you used to write about

And this time… she didn’t reply.

But a week later, she posted a photo of her hand, a lyric scrawled across her palm in messy sharpie:

we don’t talk, but i still feel it.

And Max knew.

Maybe this wasn’t over. Not yet.

But they needed time, he needed to give her the time to heal, and come to terms with what happened.

It had been a year.

Twelve whole months since “Touch It.” Nine since “because i liked a boy.” Three since Max’s last like on her post.

No texts. No calls. Nothing that would hint to the world that they’d ever known each other beyond a photo op. But they had. They did.

And the thing about time? It doesn't always heal, but it softens.

It was late November in Amsterdam when it happened. Off-season for Max, cold air, breath in clouds, hands shoved deep in jacket pockets. The kind of day that begged for quiet.

(Y/N) was there for something private, a writing session tucked away in a borrowed flat, no press, no fans, no distractions. Just her and a piano and the kind of weather that made you remember things you’d spent months trying to forget.

She didn’t plan to run into him.

And Max definitely didn’t expect to see her when he walked into that café, hood up, head down, just trying to disappear for a few hours. But there she was, sitting in the back with her coffee half-finished and her fingers tucked into her sleeves, eyes locked on the window like she was waiting for something that would never come.

For a second, he froze.

He could walk out. Pretend he didn’t see her, save them both the awkwardness. But then she looked up, and those eyes, the ones that had haunted him in lyrics and dreams, locked on his blue ones.

Neither of them smiled. Not yet.

But she tilted her head. Gave him the smallest nod, maybe it was permission.

So he walked over.

They didn’t hug. Didn’t even shake hands. Just… sat across from each other in a corner booth, sharing a silence that didn’t ache the way it used to. Not angry. Not painful.

Just real.

“I didn’t know you were here,” she said after a minute, voice soft.

“I could say the same,” Max replied, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie.

A pause.

Then she smiled, just barely. “Guess we were always good at showing up in the wrong place at the right time.”

He laughed. Quiet. Honest.

They talked.

About nothing, at first. Racing. Music. Amsterdam traffic. Coffee that tasted like burnt toast. It was easy, eventually, familiar. The kind of conversation that only happens when you’ve known someone without ever really knowing what to do about it.

And then, when the cups were empty and the daylight started to fade, he looked at her.

Really looked.

“I listened to the album,” he said. “All of it.”

She didn’t flinch. Just held his gaze, brave as ever. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “I think I needed to hear it.”

Silence. Then, gently: “I’m sorry I let the world chew you up.”

She took a breath. Slow. Careful.

“I was angry,” she said. “Not because of what happened. But because you left me standing in it alone.”

Max blinked: “You told me you didn’t need protecting.”

“I didn’t,” she said. “But I wanted to feel like I mattered. That what happened between us mattered.”

It hung in the air between them. Heavy. But not unbearable.

He nodded: “You did,” he said. “You still do.”

And this time, she smiled for real.

They left together, slipping out the back door like two people who weren’t famous. Just (Y/N) and Max. Just a girl and a boy walking side by side through cold streets, their hands brushing once, twice, then finally lacing together, without a word.

There were no cameras. No press releases. No grand declarations.

Just a quiet choice to try again.

Not the way they used to.

Not in stolen glances and broken promises.

But something slower. Softer.

Real.

And maybe this time?

They'd get it right.

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