#someone stop me I have too many aus as is oh NO | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whorelaud · 27 days ago

Text

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (04)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content suggestive !

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 03 ¡ 04 ¡ 05

yourusername

liked by rafecameron, sarahcameron, ryanontop and 1,640 others

yourusername its our world and youre living in it

view all comments

sarahcameron i start ovulating everytime i see you ↳ yourusername i cant believe that we're dating happy 10 yrs gf 😊 ↳ johnroutledge Dating? ↳ yourusername do you want an autograph or something why are you always all up in my comments

rafecameron Cool post ↳ yourusername thanks rafe ↳ rafecameron You're welcome Bug ↳ yourusername i have a name stop calling me that >:( ↳ rafecameron Why it's cute ↳ yourusername are you flirting with me ↳ rafecameron And if I said yeah then what? ↳ yourusername Then you need to shut up ↳ rafecameron 👍🏼👍🏼 Okay

kelcee3e Yeahh dump 🔥🔥 ↳ yourusername HI KELCE ↳ kelcee3e Yooo wsg 🫡 ↳ rafecameron You know him? ↳ yourusername hes my bitch ↳ sarahcameron how many bitches you got

ryanontop this ruined my day ↳ yourusername nothing was going good anyway ↳ ryanontop go fys

jjmaybanks Why are you arching your back over that railing ↳ yourusername hop off my dick ↳ jjmaybanks Man I was just asking :(

kiecarrera cuties!!! miss you guys 🥹 ↳ yourusername KIE!! i miss you too angel ↳ sarahcameron i wish you were here :’((

cleoanderson best girls ↳ yourusername you want me to kiss you sooo bad… ↳ sarahcameron im touching you ↳ cleoanderson Oh

user1 whys rafe all up in her comments ↳ yourusername he's a fan ↳ rafecameron That’s not true?

user2 THE PIC OF U N SARAH!! So adorable 🥹 ↳ ryanontop Creds to me ↳ rafecameron I took it but okay bozo ↳ yourusername mama took it??? why are you both lying

johnroutledge My gf is so cute ↳ yourusername mine* you mean? ↳ johnroutledge No back off ↳ sarahcameron i love when you guys fight over me 😇

popeheyward Someone’s having fun ↳ yourusername someones jealous 😹😹 enjoy tuna szn ↳ cleoanderson LMAO leave him alone!!!!

Rafe doesn’t know what he did wrong.

One moment, you were laughing and having a blast together, then the next, you were ignoring him, feighing oblivion to the puzzled expression that spread across his face. He played it off, ignoring the emotions washing over him everytime you fixed your attention on him, suddenly feeling his chest swell with pride as you directly flashed him a smile.

Then again, you were his best friend’s little sister, he shouldn’t be bothered by such things, after all, you had control over your own life. But he couldn’t help it, not with your change of tone over the past few weeks.

The mixed signals you sent him were killing him alive, and you didn’t even know it. At one point, he’d excuse himself earlier than everyone else, needing a moment to think his feelings through, contemplate over the sudden rush of frustration every time you’d refer to him as ‘bro’, or introduced him as your brother to other people.

He was sure that you, maybe, in the slightest bit, had interest in him, so what changed? What made you switch up in an instant, casually referring to him as your own brother when the dms you exchanged said otherwise.

It was cool, though, it’s not like you were being serious, merely messing around to entertain your friends. Besides, it was casual, you were both cool, that was all that mattered, right?

Rafe was sprawled on the couch located in your room, mindlessly scrolling through his phone while Ryan and Sarah argued from beside him, with you falling into a fit of giggles everytime Sarah roasted your brother.

The boy strived to remain calm, brushing off the glances he kept stealing in your direction, in an attempt to capture the sliver of skin peaking through everytime you lifted your arms. Hell, he wasn’t even ashamed, brazenly undressing you with his eyes, making you feel shy under his gaze, as it burned holes through your flesh.

“When will you be done?” Sarah suddenly started, dodging the pillow Ryan tossed in her direction. “Can you tell him to stop?!”

“Stop bothering her, Ryan.” You glimpsed over your shoulder, chuckling when Ryan rolled his eyes, creating a barrier with the pillow separating them. “I’m almost done, I jus’ need to touch up my makeup, and get dressed.”

“Okay, I’ll get ready, then.” Sarah shot back, flashing you a smile, though you were facing the other way. “Have fun with these two!”

“Don’t leave me with them!” You whined in protest, Sarah’s footsteps echoing through the distance.

“Fuck you.” Ryan rolled his eyes, rising from his seat. “I need to get the car started, don’t take too long to get ready, it won’t change much.”

You scoffed at his snarky comment, dismissing the boy with your arm, letting tension seep through now that you were alone with Rafe, who was mere inches away from you. The latter maintained the same position, manspreading while he relaxed against the sofa, too accompanied by his phone to pay attention to you, or the fact that the others were gone.

However, you were well aware that wasn’t the case, not with the gazes he sneaked in your direction, lingering everytime your skin was exposed to the air. And if you did that on purpose, not a single person needed to know, not Rafe, that’s for sure.

A smile tugged at your lips, finishing up your makeup with a few touches before you were ready to go. Mind you, Rafe was still there, and not only was he staring, but he fully put his phone by now, entirely directing his attention to you.

Taking advantage of the situation, you pulled your shirt over your head, the gesture causing Rafe to halt in his spot, not expecting you to do such thing. His eyes instantly shifted down your back, throat running dry when you reached to unclip your bra, letting it fall loose around your arms.

Rafe’s fingers clutched around his phone, nearly breaking it with how tight his hold was. He couldn’t comprehend it, the sight of you half naked, though he could only see your bare back, it still drove him crazy, well aware that you were doing it on purpose; for a mere reaction out of him.

A knowing grin made its way across your lips, proud of the said reaction you received from the latter, now sat on your couch with his mouth desperately parting in a sigh, hinting the temptation seizing control of his body.

With a swift movement, you grabbed your swimsuit from the counter, sliding it on with ease, holding onto the two strings you wrap around the neck. Now, you could easily do it yourself, but what was the fun in that?

You wanted Rafe to suffer, regret each word he muttered regarding his feelings for you, even if it was for a brief moment. You’ve been sending the boy signals for the past few weeks, urging him to speak, break out of the shell he created around himself, but nothing was enough, though you did everything in your watch to prove him wrong.

That was until today, of course. Your head shot in Rafe’s direction, flashing him an innocent smile as you held the spaghetti strings in your hands, feigning ignorance to the disbelief spread on his face.

“Do you mind helping me?” You started, cocking your head to the side. “I can’t tie it properly.”

“Hmm?” Rafe choked out, shuffling around as he adjusted his pants, standing up from the position he was in. “Sure, uh, what do you need me to do?”

“You could just, you know,” your eyes flickered to Rafe, as his figure filled your sight, now hovering behind you. You offered him the strings in your hold, with the latter hesitating to reach out, contemplating whether this was a good idea. “You’ve done this before, right?”

“Not really,” he admitted, focusing his attention on the back of your head, as it filled the majority of his view. His hand hastily landed around your hair, faltering as he collected it in a fist, leisurely tucking it to your side. “I don’t go around tying girls’ bikini tops.”

“Is that so?” You mused, admiring as Rafe tied the knot into a bow, making sure it was firm around your neck. “Not your first time, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Why’s that relevant right now?” He whispered, words like music to your ears. His gaze locked with yours through the reflection of the mirror, causing your breath to hitch, immediately pausing in your track.

His breath fanned over your exposed back, the fraction causing shivers to run down your spine, Rafe too close for comfort. His hand burned where it laid, the tips of his fingers like feathers to your skin, tickling you as they deliberately trailed down your back, halting just above the string connected to your top.

Rafe seeked your gaze through the reflection of the mirror, searching for any sort of discomfort, continuing as he pleased when you leaned into the touch, silently consenting to the touch. Rafe saw his chance, and took it, his chest pressing to your back when his hand slid down to the curve of your waist, tracing over the flesh with the tip of his fingers, almost as if he’d hurt you if he applied any pressure.

“You could’ve easily done that by yourself.” Rafe’s voice tumbled into a whisper, tone dripping with desire, one he wasn’t aware he had within him. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You innocently shot back, satisfied with the squeeze Rafe gave to your hip in return.

His lips ghosted over your ear, a ragged breath escaping his throat as he hushed out your name. It was subtle, and if he wasn’t so close, you would’ve totally missed it. However, you heard it, the way he said it doing things to you.

“I’m surprised you know my name.” You replied, sarcasm visible through your tone.

Rafe remained silent at your statement, letting his eyes squeeze shut as he took a whiff of your scent, your aroma intoxicating his senses. He doesn’t know what overcame him at the moment, his hands moving faster than his brain when his fingers pressed down to your side, the fraction earning an inaudible gasp out of you.

A familiar voice echoed through your ears, causing both, you and Rafe to freeze, instantly scrambling to untangle yourself from his hold when Ryan’s shouts erupted through the walls, announcing that he’ll be waiting downstairs.

You cleared your throat, gaze travelling to the ground as you hid the smile forming on your lips, ignoring the way your pulse quickened from Rafe’s touch. The latter hovered from behind you, debating what his next move should be, his arms awkwardly hanging to his side.

“I need to change out of my pants,” you exclaimed, cutting through the silence, your sentence earning Rafe’s attention. “Are you gonna keep staring?”

“What?” He choked out through a breath, lips slightly parting.

“I’m asking if you could leave,” you further explained, chuckling at the way his cheeks flushed, tinted with faint redness. “Unless you want to stay–”

“I’ll leave.” He hurried to respond, “You continue getting ready, I’ll buy you some time.”

An appreciative smile tugged at the corner of your lips, observing as Rafe took off, leaving you a flustered mess while you contemplated over what just happened.

Was it not a dream? Because, no way in hell did that happen, with Rafe; of all people.

Quickly changing out of your bottoms, you threw on a shirt over your top, heading downstairs. You perked up at the sight of your best friend, accepting the hug she offered once you were in her presence.

Your families decided on eating out with, and in their words, the kids, suggesting they go to a fancy diner to blow off some steam, having been drained with work for the past few days. While staying in bed was tempting, you couldn’t deny your parents, kindly begging you to tag along.

It was a nice little catch up with the elders, they informed you of all the business they’ve been discussing as of late, which in your opinion, was boring, merely smiling and nodding to everything they said.

Rafe’s eyes didn’t leave you the whole night, taking the seat across from you, making it impossibly hard to avoid him. For a moment, you started regretting your choices, catching on the awkwardness seeping through the air, the atmosphere heavy with tension.

The boy kept to himself for most of the time, his responses short every time Ryan would speak, interrupting the thoughts clouding his head. It was extremely difficult to brush off what went down between you two, the said moment switching a button inside him.

He was aware of your beauty, finding you alluring from the moment that you dmed him, but right now, it was different. He admired you with such endearment, gaze flickering to your glossy lips, too busy chatting with Sarah to direct your attention to him.

He shook off his thoughts, peeling his eyes off of you as guilt settled in his chest. He can’t let anything happen between you two, after all, he did promise Ryan that nothing would bloom out of this, and while a hint of disappointment filled his insides when Ryan drew a line, he did everything in his will not to question it.

The ride back filled with chaos, you and Sarah claiming aux the moment you stepped in the car. Your parents snickered as you two sang along to the lyrics, creating your own karaoke throughout the drive back.

“Do you guys want to watch a movie?” Sarah questioned once each of you took a corner on the couch.

“Sure.” Ryan rose from his seat, surprisingly excited. “What should we watch?”

“I’ll pass,” you huffed, standing to your feet. “I’m kind of tired, go ahead and watch without me.”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion, puzzled by the excuse you used. His eyes shifted to Sarah as she tried to convince you to stay, merely for you to brush off her attempts with an apology, insisting they continue without you.

He didn’t question you, yet, of course he was concerned, blaming your action back to what happened earlier. Sarah played the movie, and Rafe was on the edge of his seat the entire time, itching to check up on you, find the reason behind your discomfort.

He could only handle so much, pulling out his phone when his curiosity was no longer bearable.

You perked up at the knocks erupting through your ears, eyes widening with shock, yet slight anticipation. Scrambling out of bed, you moved to approach the sound, twisting the doorknob with interest, peaking your head through the crooked door.

Your face flushed with heat at the sight of Rafe, concern washing over his face. He was slightly hovering over you, as you bent down, making him look extremely big compared to you. Rafe tilted his head, attempting to capture the rest of your face hidden behind the door.

“Are you not inviting me inside?” He asked, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was in sight.

“Why should I?” You scoffed, straightening your back. “Go back, they’ll be suspicious since you randomly disappeared.”

“I excused myself to bed,” he explained, hand pressing to the door. “Now let me in, I won’t take long.”

You suppressed the adrenaline rush filling up your insides, moving to the side for the purpose of welcoming Rafe in. The boy took the gesture for granted, entering and shutting the door behind him, his back pressing to the wood while his hand yet clutched to the doorknob.

“Let’s talk.”

“What’s there to talk about?” You rolled your eyes, arms crossing over your chest. “I said what needed to be said.”

“But I didn’t.” Rafe defensively shot back, darting his tongue out to wet his lips. “Now listen to me– I’ll be quick.”

“Okay,” you nodded, skeptical with where this was going. “Go ahead.”

“Listen, I’m sorry about earlier, hell, it was stupid.” His eyebrows furrowed with pent up frustration, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I jus’ got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

Your expression softened at the unexpected words, taken aback by his concern. Sure, you were expecting some sort of apology, but the way he spoke with such a sweet tone, indicating he was afraid he did something wrong, it didn’t fail to make your heart skip a beat, too caught up in your own head to respond.

Gaping your mouth to speak, your action fell short when you heard a knock on the door, causing both you and Rafe to halt in your tracks. You hushed Rafe when he parted his lips to talk, pointing out the suspicious amount of noise seeping through the silence.

“Do they know you're here?” You mouthed, making Rafe shake his head.

“Bug!” Sarah’s voice erupted through your ears, eyes slightly widening when the girl knocked again, striving to grab your attention. “Open up, I know you’re awake.”

“Hide,” you mouthed once again, grabbing Rafe by the wrist, and dragging him to your closet. “I’ll let you know when she leaves.”

“Wait–” Rafe froze when you gestured towards the cramped space. “I’m not hiding in your closet.”

“Do you wanna get us caught?” You warned, expression washing with disbelief.

“You’re acting as if we did something,” he grumbled back, avoiding your gaze. “I’ll jus’ say I was speaking to you; it’s no big deal.”

“You told them you were heading to bed,” you started, wincing when Sarah knocked again, implying she was still outside. “What will Ryan think when he finds out you were in my room, mind you, way past ten? Ryan’s crazy, he’ll kill both of us!”

“Okay,” Rafe huffed, “But I'm not hiding in your closet, I’ll wait in the bathroom until she leaves.”

“What if she decides to use it?” You argued, considering the possibilities. “I’m not risking it, Rafe, hide until she leaves; I’ll come up with an excuse to get you out.”

Without further questioning things, Rafe entered your closet, with you immediately shutting the door behind him. You mumbled a small ‘coming’ while aiming for the doorknob, coming to a halt when you twisted it open, anything but anticipating what was awaiting you outside.

“Took you long enough!” Kiara’s voice echoed through your ears, a breath knocking out of your chest when she embraced you in a hug, soon followed with Cleo joining you, as well as Sarah, and the rest of the boys, who stood to the side and watched with amusement.

“Why did no one tell me about this?” You gasped, tightening your hold around your friends.

“It was a surprise!” Sarah muffled out.

Yeah, Rafe was in for a night.

a/n hii!! sorry these wasnt smau this chapter buttt i hope you enjoyed :) likes n reblogs are v much appreciated!!!

taglist is currently closed

TAGLIST @greyswaren @slut-4-gojo @depthsofdespairr @littlelamy @lilithblackkk @cnnamongrl @mattyskies @percysley @jaklvbub @inlovewithdob @ilovefiction4lmen @theeternaloptimistt @maybejj @icaqttt @idgasb @purplerose291 @shincidios @laniirackssss @malibuhearts @adulterated-cocaine @bugg06 @murdockcastleslut @drwstarkeys @pretymads @klmaaaoooo @wearemadeofstardust0 @urbrunettebombshell @stylestarkey @riverxsq @louxmcl @totalswag @cl4uus @simpforboys @tearsfromasliverwolf-blog @bilssturns @fandomhopped @strsdoulikedem @congratsloserr @dr3wstarkey @xoxo-ada @stvrligghtt @rafeswhoooreee @kythefangirl25 @chaneydoll @blushmimi @akobx @empath-bunny @flirtism @stopnala @rafecameronswifeyy

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x brat!reader #rafe cameron smau #rafe cameron social media au #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #rafe obx #drew starkey

2K notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 2 months ago

Text

Screening: Halloween (1978).

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 3.1k.

TW: No Curses!AU, Serial Killer AU, Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Character Death, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Reader is Pregnant, Blood, Age Gap (Reader is 32, Gojo is 18), and No Actual Incest, But The Vibes Are There. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

There was a man in your kitchen.

Which, to be fair, you’d already known. You’d only woken up because you heard something clattering on that side of your house, only gotten out of bed because the noise had gotten too loud to ignore. You figured your husband (as lovable as he was clumsy, unfortunately) had dropped something during a late-night water run and managed to hurt himself while cleaning it up, and knowing him, your pristine house would be in ruins if he tried to handle it himself. You didn’t particularly care about the mess. It could wait until tomorrow – tonight, all you needed him to worry about was keeping your bed warm.

Exhausted and bleary-eyed, you didn’t think to go back to bed when the noises stopped, didn’t notice how eerily silent your home had grown in the absence of your husband’s rustling. No possibility worse than a little broken glass ever crossed your mind, not until you reached the doorway, until your fickle attention caught on the dots of blood splattered across the perfectly white tiles of your floor; not very many and not very big, but still, more than you thought there’d be. Your eyes followed them left until they grew into a trail, then a puddle, and then finally, your husband – lying on his side, crumpled against the nearest cabinet. You couldn’t see where he was hurt. You couldn’t see is he was breathing.

Blankly, you slumped against the doorframe, suddenly feeling both infinitely more awake and infinitely more dazed than you had the second prior. Almost involuntarily, you called out to him, only aware of the sound of your voice after it’d left your mouth. “…Hiromi? Baby?”

“Not quite.” Your eyes shot up and through the unlit space. It seemed unthinkable that there’d be someone else in the room, that there’d be someone responsible for this, and yet, there he was, standing over what used to be your husband – dark stains painted across the material of his black hoodie, a knife still clutched in his right hand. The knife was set delicately onto the nearest countertop, his foot knocking into your husband’s shoulder with a hollow, fleshy sound he stepped over him, and then, the murderer was in front of you, eyes too bright to be completely human prying into you through the darkness. “But, you remember my name too, right?”

You didn’t, but it came to you quickly. His stark white hair should’ve been the first give-away, and yet, it took another second of staring into those horrible blue eyes to fully believe what you were looking at.

“Satoru?”

It couldn’t have been. You knew it couldn’t have been. It’d been a decade since you last saw him – or, rather, since you last saw the starry-eyed eight-year-old who’d cling to your waist and make you promise to teach him how to braid flower frowns after he was done with his daily lessons. This wasn’t your Satoru. This was a grown man, covered in your husband’s blood and holding his hands up in a show of faux-innocence as he approached you, a startlingly familiar smile already contorting his otherwise blank expression. You tried to take a step back, to retreat without turning away from him, but your heel caught on something wet and too terrible to name and you fell, landing with your back against the corridor wall. Your hands shot to your stomach instinctually, but Satoru didn’t seem to notice, dropping to one knee in front of you. “Oh no, did you hurt yourself?” And then, without ever letting his grin falter. “I’m sorry I made such a mess. I was just so happy to see you, and then someone else came to greet me, and I think I might’ve lost my temper. It used to happen a lot after you’d leave, too—”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you cut in, breathless from the very first word. That, at least, got him to stop smiling.

“Hurt you? Why would I…” He spared a glance over his shoulder, then let out a bark of a laugh. “Oh. No, no, I’d never do that to you. It’s just—He was telling me to leave, and I knew you’d be so happy to see me, and I already apologized for the mess. You used to let me off the hook all the time, if I seemed sorry enough.”

He was right, you had. You’d been young and optimistic, and his offenses had been limited to childish temper-tantrums and a few unkind comments made towards his more discipline-focused household staff. But, notably, he’d also been eight, and you’d been fired in less than a year, and he’d never killed anyone in front of you. God, this was bad. This was so, so, so bad. Hiromi was dead, and you were going to die next, and your baby was—

You couldn’t let yourself think about that. It was all you could do to stop yourself from hyperventilating, to drag yourself out of an oncoming panic attack and back to the very real, very present threat in front of you. Satoru had already hurt someone. He could hurt you, too, even if he wasn’t holding a weapon. You needed to call someone. Better yet, you needed to get away from him.

It took everything you had not to let your voice shake, to force your tongue to cooperate. You tried to remember what it’d been like to be an overconfident twenty-something taking care of a kid just a little too eager to soak in your praise, but abandoned the effort before you could make this any worse for yourself. “Does… Does your family know where you are, ‘toru?”

And, just like that, his smile was back in full force. Almost gleefully, he shook his head. “I don’t think they’ve known for a while now, ma’am.”

Fuck. That was right. You hadn’t been fired – there’d been a fire, or an accident, you couldn’t remember the details. You’d heard, months later, that Satoru had been the lone survivor, but you weren’t sure what happened to him after that.

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” It was hard to feign sympathy when the love of your life’s body was still warm, but you managed. “But, you still did something very, very wrong tonight, and I think we should call someone to help.”

“Well, we can’t do that. They’d just take you away from me again.” You bit into the inside of your cheek. So he wasn’t completely delusional, after all. “That’s what my clan wanted to do. They said you were distracting me, and that you’d have to leave. I told them I didn’t want you to, but…” He paused, laughed. “I guess that doesn’t matter, anymore.”

You opened your mouth, but Satoru didn’t give you a chance to speak. Without warning, he surged forward, cupping your face in his hands, his smile taking on a manic lull. “I waited.” He sounded so proud of himself, like he expected you to congratulate him. “I could’ve come to you right away, but I was good, I waited. I knew I had to be a little older. I knew you’d always take care of me, but I had to be able to take care of you, too.”

Something heavy and sharp turned over in the pit of your stomach. “…I really don’t need you to take care of anything, ‘toru.”

“I know.” Impossibly, his eyes seemed to grow even brighter. “I want to, though. Because it’s what you did for me.”

And then, almost breathlessly, “Because I love you.”

You were going to be sick.

You didn’t know what to say. Even if you had, you wouldn’t have been able to spit it out, not with your teeth grit and your throat filled with cotton. Pathetically, you tried to push him away, to stand up, but Satoru only cooed and took your attempts at resistance as a sign to move on, to move forward. You felt his arms snake around your waist only half a second before you felt him straighten against you – pushing himself to his feet and pulling you into a sort-of bridal carry, not unlike something your husband would’ve done when he was feeling sappily romantic, which he almost always was.

Satoru’s embrace was too unwelcome to be romantic, though, too stiff to be comfortable, and worst of all, too tight to fight against as he made his way through your now-barren home. He didn’t ask you for directions or try any doors. Rather, almost too confidently, he found his way to the master bedroom, the door still ajar from when you’d stumbled through it minutes prior. Unceremoniously, eagerly, you were dropped onto the center of your bed and before you had time to get away, Satoru was on top of you; a knee by your hip, a hand by your head, his mouth on yours. His teeth scrapped across your lips and clashed against yours, his tongue forcing its way down your throat as he let out a wavering, pitchy moan against your mouth. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought that Satoru wasn’t a very good kisser, then felt repulsed at yourself. That wasn’t something you were supposed to know. Not about Satoru.

He really had been such a sweet kid. It’d been years since the last time you thought about him, but it would’ve been hard to forget how he’d pouted when you told him homework came before sweets, how his eyes lit up the first time whenever you managed to convince his caretakers that he’d earned a fieldtrip, even if you’d never taken him anywhere more exciting than the local aquarium. You’d never planned to spend the rest of your life filling-in for his perpetually absent parents, but your heart had broken just a little when one of the family’s maids let you know that she’d overheard future plans to let you go. He’d gotten too attached, she’d said. He’s been calling you ‘mom’.

…

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so surprised. It wasn’t like this was ever going to end well for either of you.

When Satoru broke away, it was only to pull his hoodie and shirt over his head with all the grace and all the care of an overeager teenager, too desperate to get back to the act at-hand to think about impressing you. He moved to kiss you, again, but you managed to catch him by the shoulders, to hold him off just long enough to find your voice. “Wait, Satoru.” He didn’t, but he dropped lower, his mouth falling to your neck, then your collarbone. You felt his hand graze over your thigh, and were suddenly aware that you’d gone to bed in an oversized shirt and nothing else. “You don’t really want to do this, you’re just confused. You should take a second to catch your breath, and—” You cut yourself off with a pained hiss as his teeth dug into the upper curve of your breast. You couldn’t bring yourself to wonder whether or not it’d leave a mark. “And— Stop.”

This time, you were forceful enough for him to glance towards your face, his eyes just barely visibly through his disheveled hair. Talking felt like choking down gravel, but you managed. “We can’t,” you said, offering your best attempt at a sympathetic frown. “I’m pregnant, ‘toru.”

It was true, as little as you wanted Satoru to be the first person you told. You weren’t far enough along to be showing, but his gaze immediately fell to your stomach. You counted the seconds as he stared at you, the gears turning in his head. Finally, he pulled away, his expression taking on a dream-like quality.

“You’re so perfect,” he sighed, suddenly dazed. “My mama’s gonna be a real mommy.”

“Mhm.” You didn’t try to smile back. If you pushed your limits any further, the strain may’ve gotten to you before Satoru did. “So, you understand why you have to leave, don’t you?”

“Can’t do that, pretty girl.” He ducked lower, his hands shifting to your waist. You tried to sit up, and he let you, too preoccupied settling into the space between your open legs. “Someone’s gotta be there to watch you extra close, now.”

And yet, watching didn’t seem to be what he had in mind.

The heat of it struck you first; damp and smothering, like steam or humidity or the feeling of water in your lungs, drowning you from the inside out. He ate you out as messily as he’d kissed you; never content to be lapping at your entrance or suckling on your clit when he could be attempting to do both. His broad tongue drew aimless patterns over your cunt, fucking into your pussy with every other stroke while the bridge of his nose ground into your clit, leaving no part of you untainted, unscathed. You tried to ignore him and, when that failed, to pretend that it was Hiromi between your legs, but you couldn’t spin straw into gold. Your husband had always been lovingly playful in bed, prone to pressing open-mouthed kisses into the inside of your thighs, to drawing out the letters of his name into your clit as his long, talented fingers split you open. Satoru’s fingers were too busy groping at your hips to be good for anything else, and he couldn’t seem to pull himself away from pussy for much of anything, let alone something as unimportant as ‘care’ or ‘tenderness’. You could feel his teeth ghost over your skin, his saliva pooling at the apex of your thighs, and worst of all, you could feel yourself growing warmer, your core growing tighter, your self-control waning as you fought against the urge to buck into his mouth.

Your hands balled at the sheets underneath you, your eyes soon clenched shut in an effort to convince yourself that this wasn’t happening, that you weren’t here, that this wouldn’t end with you cumming into the mouth of the man who’d killed your husband, of the overgrown child who you’d once considered yourself responsible for. Tears burnt at the corners of your eyes, but if Satoru noticed your distress, he was determined to play obvious to the bitter end; only whining into your cunt as you clenched around his tongue. It was the reverberation that ultimately sealed your fate; as unintentional on his part as it was unwilling on yours. That was where your commonalities ended, though. While you sobbed and thrashed through your orgasm, Satoru basked in it, curling his tongue against the convulsing walls of your cunt, drinking down every moment of your agony.

By the time he pulled away, you were too spent to be relieved – cold exhaustion flooding into the gaps that reprieve should’ve filled. Even that was stripped away from you, eventually, with only the effort it took him to straighten his back, to spread your legs around his waist, to free his leaking cock from his jeans – a visibly damp spot now staining the dark material. You tried to scramble back, to roll over, but Satoru caught you by the hip with one hand while the other pressed the head of his cock to your entrance, the ghost of contact alone hot enough to burn. “W-Wait,” you tried, before things got as bad as they possibly could. “Satoru, the baby—”

“I know,” he cut in, flashing you a reassuring smile. “I’ll be careful. I promise, nothing’s gonna hurt you or my little brother ever again.”

You wanted to scream. You might’ve, if he hadn’t chosen that moment to push into you, only stopping when his hips pressed into yours and he couldn’t possibly make this any worse.

The physical sensation might’ve been bearable, on its own. You already knew you were never going to recover mentally, but Hiromi was thicker with a more pronounced curve, even if Satoru probably beat him for length by an inch or so. If it’d just been the physicality, the dizziness heat, the nauseating stretch from your cunt to your core, but you might’ve been able to deal with it, but Satoru was so damn loud – disassociating would’ve been too difficult to warrant the effort, if not out-right impossible. He whined as he rutted into you, slotting his just chest against yours and burying his face in your neck, his tongue running mindless over the side of your throat. “I—I thought about practicing,” he muttered, forcing himself to speak between raspy groans and hitched whimpers. “I tried to, because I knew you’d be s—so good at this, but I couldn’t do it, not if it wasn’t for you, or—” You felt him twitch inside of you, and everything seemed to turn to static. When you came back to yourself, he was still ranting, still rambling senseless into your jugular vein. “—I love you. You were always so pretty, and nice, and I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He repeated that same senseless mantra until the words began to slur and crack. You didn’t want to touch him, but his pelvic bone scraped over your clit and you lashed out on instinct – your fingers soon tangled in his hair, your nails biting into his scalp. Satoru’s whimpers were immediately replaced by full-bodied moans only slightly stifled by your skin. Numbly, you were aware that similar (albeit, much more pained) noises were falling past your own lips, that your pussy was soaking in the stimulation your conscious mind rejected, but you could only bring yourself to acknowledge what that meant as your second orgasm crested, as you let what you could only distantly acknowledge as pleasure wash over you. Satoru followed in-suit a few seconds later, making no attempt to pull out as something searing and thick and awful flooded into.

You supposed you should’ve been thankful that he couldn’t get you pregnant. Maybe you’d find the energy for gratitude, later on.

Satoru never really pulled away. He only drew back, allowing for enough distance been you and him to smile, to kiss your forehead – the same way you’d kissed his, when he shared his never-ending supply of candy or scraped his knee. He lingered there, nuzzling against you, one of his hands drifting to your stomach and settling there.

“I missed you,” he muttered, with a shallow sigh. And then, for the hundredth time, “I love you.”

Had you not been able to feel every last inch of his wide, fanged grin biting into you, you might’ve actually believed it was true.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #yandere gojo satoru #gojo satou x reader

1K notes · View notes

butterymangowrites · 7 months ago

Text

permanent fix

soulmate au + a/b/o

paring: alpha atsumu x fem beta reader

warnings: bullying, dub-con, atsumu is not nice, smut, slight breeding kink, biting, blood, choking, mirror sex, possessiveness, jealousy, alpha rut, atsumu talks shit, dramatic atsumu

word count: 2.2k

english is not my first language. please excuse any mistakes

Born as a beta, you never thought fate would toy with you by giving an alpha as your soulmate. Especially not one like Miya Atsumu, the one whom you went to school through college with and still having to see his face ever so frequently as if he had sworn to never let you live in peace.

For someone who made faces when seeing the lunchboxes your mom packed for you and proclaimed a beta was weak when you first presented at fifteen, Miya Atsumu couldn’t seem to detach himself from you.

So when you had a crush on one of your colleagues at twenty five, having his nose in your business as usual, Atsumu knew instantly.

“Another beta.” Lying comfortably on your couch, Atsumu scoffed. “Predictable.”

“Didn’t ask for your opinions.”

“I’m giving it anyway,” he said in a singsong voice, but his face was without mirth. “You can fuck whoever you want, but I’m getting my fix. That’s non-negotiable.”

Oh, yeah. His fix.

He patted his lap. “Come here.”

Then it all began again. Him cradling you in his lap, hands going all over, lips spilling hateful words.

‘Weak fucking beta.’ He would say. ‘Even Osamu got an omega soulmate. Makes me jealous as fuck.’

But then he would kiss you like the world might end tomorrow, doing everything opposite of what he said. This time was no different. His hot tongue was everywhere he could reach, acquainted itself with yours before leaving a wet trail down your neck.

You protested when he nipped a little too hard, scared he might leave marks. He did that once. The deep purple hickey you saw in the mirror after he left your apartment scared the shit out of you. A little more force and teeth could have broken the skin, and that thought caused chills to run all over your body. You didn’t want to bear his marks.

Yet, Atsumu didn’t care. He never did. His hands were now on your buttocks, squeezing hard through your thin pajama bottoms. He moved you to one of his thighs for better concentration. The hands on your butt now rolled your hips back and forth, to the point your moan finally slipped out of your tightly zipped lips and you forgot about the harsh nibbling on your neck.

“Go whore yourself out,” Atsumu whispered. “Like I fucking care.”

Same here, asshole.

You thought, didn’t say out loud.

Touching each other lifted the heavy weight in the heart caused by the act of not accepting the soulmate bond. Nothing more, nothing less. If not for this calling of intimacy both of you obliged to feel, he wouldn’t be here. You knew that. He said it way too many times.

Still, your cheeks were licked, your lips were tasted, neck wet with saliva. You felt like a prey about to be eaten every time he was close. Yes, he may not care. But he sure was possessive enough of things that were given to him.

Whenever you tried to wiggle out of his firm grasp, he tightened his fist. This time was the hardest you ever felt.

—

In more than twenty years of knowing each other, never once did Atsumu come to you when he had gone into rut. So when he called you two in the morning one week after his last fix, ordered you to pack a bag and tell your boss you would be on leave for a week, you were baffled. It was never more than kisses and touches with him. Your clothes were always intact and on. The idea of that being changed had you flat out saying no.

That didn’t stop Atsumu from coming to get you one hour later though. When he saw that you did nothing to get ready, his jaw was clenched. A split second later, he packed your bag himself, shoving clothes and toiletries in without any care. You were still in pajamas when the passenger door was slammed closed and he hit the gas.

—

There were reasons why betas are not for alphas. Physically, they were incompatible. Betas weren’t designed for alpha’s stamina, not to mention one in rut. At one point, you did not care to count anymore how many times you had blacked out. Fading in and out really fucked with your memory. All you remembered was the non-stop pounding, Atsumu’s breath against your face, and his uncharacteristic cooing, praising you as his good girl.

“Knew you were built for me.” The blond menace pulled on both of your wrists, never stopped his thrusting. “Let me knot you again, okay?” When you shook your head, face wet with tears, Atsumu shushed you softly. “Shhhhh. You can do it, I know you can.”

And you could. But it was not without pain.

“Shouldn’t have waited this long,” Atsumu said close to your lips. “You almost got away.”

He talked too much. But it would have been a big fat lie to deny that his words didn’t turn you on. That his vile confession didn’t affect you.

“Bold of you to even think I would let someone else touch you.” He sounded out of breath, closing to his end. “All the effort goes to waste. No no no no.”

You felt it coming, just seconds before. Then your whole body was taken by the waves of thrills and your whole vision turned white. Atsumu was not your first, but as if he was the harbinger of agony, it hurt when he first penetrated, hurt when he knotted. And when you felt a sharp sting at your sensitive neck, you knew he defied the rule of nature once again by marking you.

Fruitless. That was what it would be. Betas were not made for alphas. Mating bites did not forge any bond with the wrong person and would fade over time. But Atsumu had always been stubborn. One bite turned into two, three, then countless. All you felt was pain and the wetness of blood before darkness took your consciousness like the many rounds before.

—

The mating bites faded within two weeks, all except the first mark, proving to you that even biology could not win over destiny. Same went with all other beta-alpha soulmate couples out there after you had done some research. They were rare, but they were there. You shouldn’t have let Atsumu bite you. Should have known better that things could get weird when it came to soulmates. Now, he wouldn’t get off your ass, had the audacity to move his things to your apartment and yours to his, calling you his girlfriend in front of everyone and expecting to see you at his games.

You didn’t even like volleyball to begin with. And as you watched his magnificent tosses to any players he deemed to have high chances to score, you thought of a way to get out of his clutch.

He needed an omega, the correct designation he always longed for. Because even with all the protective caresses and the promise to never let you go, Atsumu was still mean. Like going back to the ninth grade when you put makeup on for the first time and he gave you the nastiest comment that made you go wash everything off in the school toilet, his words still stung badly when he chose to weaponize them.

‘Samu’s mate smells like she needs to be bred.’ He said that nonchalantly one day at Onigiri Miya, sitting side by side with you at the counter where his twin and his mate helped each other with cooking and serving the hungry athletes who were there to celebrate the day’s victory ‘Don’t know how he stands that. So sweet’

Hearing that made your conversation with Hinata pause. His steely gaze was the first thing you saw when turning to face ‘your boyfriend’.

It didn’t end there. For days Atsumu was in a devilish mood, his jabs that you knew most of them were meant to just rile you up for fun had become a real emotional harm. He still fucked you, make no mistake about that. And it was as devilish as his temper.

‘Too hard, Miya. Too hard.’ You still wouldn’t call him by his first name.

Veiny hands wrapped snugly around your neck, Atsumu only went faster after hearing that. The bathroom mirror was foggy with hot steam from the shower, but you could see enough. One of your legs was perched on the counter, allowing the view of his cock pistoning in and out of you, your breasts bouncing fast.

‘Would have been pregnant already if you were an omega.’ The sentence came out coated with his accent, thicker than normal, like he didn’t have full control of how he spoke. ‘But that’s alright. I can take my time with you. We’ll get there,’ he purred. ‘Still, what a shame, huh?’

Shame his ass for saying that and not letting you leave. ‘Go fuck an omega then.’

He smirked. Pissed you off. ‘Nah.’

As his toss to Sakusa scored a winning point, the loud cheer brought you back to the present. You saw Atsumu eyes staring up at you from the court below and knew what you had to do.

—

Getting an omega who wanted to spend a heat with Miya Atsumu was easy enough. Sending her up to your apartment where he was already there waiting for you was as simple. You drove away then, not far, stopping at your favorite 24-hour cafe because you needed somewhere to sit and waited for the first feedback from the omega girl. Half an hour later, you got a call.

The screen showed the female omega’s name. You picked up and said hello, expecting to hear that everything went well and that you could go find somewhere else to sleep for the next five nights.

But you only heard cries. Not of pleasure, just a full-blown crying with hiccups.

“Hey, are you okay?” you asked, frowning. “Talk to me. What happened?”

“He—he screamed—at me,” she spluttered, almost incoherently, “and only asked where you were.”

You cursed quietly, finally able to stop stirring the poor coffee you ordered without any interest in taking a sip. “Where is he now?”

“I don’t know,” she cried. “He left—after the screaming.” Her voice wavered all the more when she kept on trying to speak. “You had to see him. He looked murderous. There was not even a hello. He straight up shouted at me, accusing me of breaking in. When I tried to explain—mentioned you, his face was all red.” A hiccup interrupted the long babbling. “He said he was married to you and showed me the ring.”

You were not sure what crack Atsumu was on, but there was definitely no ring or marriage.

The call was still on when you heard the cafe’s door pushed open. And it was as if you saw the devil with your own naked eyes.

Atsumu walked in.

His strides declared no peace or mercy when he saw you, ignoring the greetings from the two night shift baristas.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you stood up, didn’t say anything when he put his hand on your shoulder and led the way out.

The drive was silent. Your car was left at the parking lot near the cafe, you would have to come and get it as soon as you could before the parking fee turned as murderous as him. When asked where he was going, he answered solemnly, “My place. Yours stinks.”

You just knew it was going to be a long night.

—

Atsumu was the one who got the car out for you the next morning since he was the one who could still walk without wobbling. The sheets you slept on were rumpled. They reeked of cum.

You reeked of cum.

‘You think you’re so funny?’ he asked, knowing you couldn’t answer with his cock occupying your mouth but did it nonetheless ‘You wanted me to fuck her? What was going on in that pretty little head?’

He pulled you by the nape of your neck before pushing your head down, forcing your throat to take more of him till you felt the urge to gag.

‘I thought we had an understanding, baby,’ he said, finally relenting his grip on your head. ‘No whoring yourself out.’ Then he stressed, ‘And no whoring me out. I’m yours.’

‘Do you understand?’

You only nodded.

‘Words.’

‘Yes, Miya.’

‘Atsumu,’ he said, looking like he wanted to throw up. ‘You’re not fucking my brother. Don’t make me imagine that. Call me Atsumu.’

‘Yes, Tsumu.’

Looked like you delivered. Atsumu grinned from ear to ear. ‘Good girl. My best girl.’

That was last night.

A warm kiss to the cheek woke you again, must have dozed off after Atsumu left, but those scenes were not a dream. You heard him whisper,

“I got your car. Parked it at your place.”

He looked like he got a ten-hour sleep while you could not move a limb without feeling sore. Not fair. And the way he looked so good in sheep’s clothing, his wolf’s skin all hidden. Not fair at all.

“Shower.” Your voice was hoarse, but you got the message through. That was good enough.

#miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu smut #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x you #haikyu fanfiction #haikyu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #hq x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu dark content #soulmate au #a/b/o au #omegaverse #a/b/o #haikyuu x reader

1K notes · View notes

keferon · 2 months ago

Note

Something I came up with for mecha pilot Jazz Au:

____________________

The battlefield was in chaos, mechs and the invaders could be seen everywhere, yet Prowl's focus was else were.

Jazz, the strangest mech he ever seen, was fighting with all his might against one of the invaders while he had way too many lost parts to even be doing half of whatever that stupidity was.

Yet, there he was, fighting like that didn't matter, like it didn't hurt.

Like he could survive whatever came his way.

"Is that all you've got you fucker!"

Prowl did not know what that least part meant, like he didn't know many other things that the mech would say, by he knew it should be an insult.

But now there was no time to keep staring, he had his own fight to think of.

-------

"Fuck!"

Prowl had just finished his own enemy when he heard that.

It was Jazz's voice, and using a not so comforting tone

He immediately turned, knowing full well that when Jazz screamed like that, it meant trouble.

But nothing prepared Prowl for what he saw.

One of the invaders had stabbed him in the chest, a deep wound that was obviously fatal.

He watched in horror as the lights on Jazz's bisor started to go out as the invader pulled back its weapon and left.

Prowl ran, arriving in time to catch him before Jazz hit the ground.

"Jazz!" He called out as the lights became weaker and weaker.

He got no response other then the low buzz he sometimes heard the mech do when going to recharge before the lights died.

But Prowl knew, Jazz wasn't recharging.

Jazz was not there with them anymore.

He felt his spark skip a beat as he stared at his fallen friend, the one with no concept of personal space or when to or not to flirt with someone, and the one to seemed to always have something to say.

That same Jazz was now silent in front of him, still and cold.

Prowl was sad by the loss.

But he was also enraged.

Enraged by Jazz's recklessness, by the invaders presence, by his inability to do something to save his friend.

That brought a surge of rage to him.

He wanted to fight and bring down the ones that liked Jazz, and he was about to.

But something made him stop.

A quiet and nearly impossible to hear voice.

A voice that came from Jazz's body.

He looked at his friend as his chest suddenly started to open and a something that he never seen appeared sitting where his spark should be.

A small creature, with an armor way too similar with Jazz's design to be a coincidence, its side had a nasty cut that was leaking a strange red liquid.

Its face painted with obvious pain, yet it was still showing a smile that Prowl might not know, but that seemed right as it spoke with the same, yet too small for confort, voice he thought he would never hear again.

"Hey Prowler, could you give me a hand here?"

OH I LOVE IT SO MUCH HELPP YOU MAKE ME WANNA WRITE

#mecha pilot jazz au #maccadam

850 notes · View notes

o-sunny-day · 2 months ago

Text

SCROLL FOR @forgettable-au ANGST :D

ok so ((WAILS LOUDLY))

WE KNOW HOW THIS GOES *breaks knuckles* ITS TIME TO TEAR APART MY ART BECAUSE PASSION

trust me, im a proFESSIONAL yapper at this point

This whole thing takes place within my own headcanon that “The Quiche Room” was one of many of Sans and Wingdings’ little hangout spots. They also really liked the echo flower there (maybe they planted it themselves-) Maybe thats why Papyrus is so unnerved and disturbed by echo flowers now…

Notice, the echo flower grows as they grow!

Oh yeah! I had fun drawing them grown in their kid outfits for 2. Wingdings can finally see his ankles

2 is also sorta a reference to my Radio Star comic, same stuff they did as kids, Wingdings working and Sans assisting, They haven’t changed too much yet. haven’t gotten the lab job. yet.

in 3, this is after they get the job at the lab and Wingdings realizes its a great place for supporting his unhealthy habits of seclusion and emotional repression. The echo flower is repeating something Wingdings said a while ago. I dont know what- fill in your own angst I suppose (I cant do EVERYTHING around here)

in 1 and 2, the light sources… are each other. Sans n Wd. Theyre each others lights. Each others stars (cries loudly and noticeably) but then for 3, the only light source is the echo flower. Yknow. The echo flower. with wingdings’ voice

4 is how the quiche room looks in the game 👍 Dunno whats sadder… Wingdings’ voice being removed because he’s in the void now, or because someone just talked over it without a second thought.

Oh yeah, and its empty because Sans and Papyrus don’t remember that ever being a place they hung out.

Yeah.

Yeah, im crying too. Its okay, let it out.

SANS AND GASTER SANS AND GASTER SANS AND GASTER (PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE) I need them to interact i’m gonna have an aneurism.

THIS PART IS GETTING ITS OWN SECTION BECAUSE CMON MAN, ITS SANS AND GASTER

It was said in this post that Sans knows he was involved in whatever accident Gaster had, that had MAJOR consequences, and made everything and everyone different.

That makes me wonder, does Sans feel any guilt?? like subconsciously or not, he knows he was involved, so does he suspect he could have done something to stop it, or did something bad, and he was at fault in some way?

I DONT THINK HE WAS

so in 5, Sans is asking “what happened.”

What happened to him, why is everything like this, was it his fault? what did he do? what did he NOT do???

And Gaster just replies “Nothing that wasn’t my own fault.”

OK THATS ENOUGH. WHITEBOARD DOODLES, ATTACK!!!!

also- I PROMISE IM WORKING ON THE DTIYS 😭😭😭 IVE GOT IDEAS IDK HOW TO EXECUTE EM

Heres a thing I made/am working on(???) that was inspired by the dtiys though :3

504 notes · View notes

chlorinecake · 3 months ago

Text

Rabbit Hole | S.JY

▹ PAIRING: ex fling ! classmate ! jake x f. reader

▹ GENRE: smut, scandalous, college au

▹ SYNOPSIS: In an attempt to escape your past life by running off to a new university, you end up encountering a former lover—one that you never thought you’d see again, and one that you’d soon realize was bad news all along…

▹ WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, foul language, humiliation kink, kinda dubcon because I need therapy, mentions of anal play, ft. other idols, mild bullying, switch!jake x switch!reader, lots of dialogue, degrading kink, impact play, light bondage, oral sex (m. r), unprotected sex (not for you), hair pulling

▹ WORD COUNT: 5.9k — DAY 7

Monday

Today, your current university was hosting its annual day of orientation for newcomers and recently transferred students.

You found yourself here after being promptly expelled from your previous university, a victim of being framed after someone planted hard drugs in your gym bag—an incident that still leaves you unsure regarding who set you up in the first place…

Fortunately, however, the transition to this new college was seemingly smooth, as many of your closest friends were also attending this institution, speaking in your honor and defense to the enrollment officials countless times.

And so, as a freshly admitted student at a prestigious college located more than 100 miles from your former campus, you were eager to leave your old life and watch it burn behind you.

Though, as your cousin would often quote from one of those shitty Max Payne games he played all the time, You can't run from your past. You will end up running in circles until you fall back down into the same hole you were trying to escape from, only the hole's grown deeper.

Orientation had just ended about forty minutes ago, and like several other students, you decided to treat yourself to a nice coffee at the campus café.

However, you never anticipated running into someone you met along that gruesome 100-mile journey—someone with whom you shared a fleeting romance that you never thought you’d see again.

A fling, you might add, that you met during one of the darkest times of your life.

It was a reckless and foolish decision on your part, honestly… after all, being drunk and horny simultaneously was a combination that rarely ended well—

“I offered to pay you for sex and you said you’d do it for free!” The man shouted back at you with his frustrated brown eyes flickering behind his glasses.

And by now, everyone in the cafeteria was staring at you two—

“No the fuck I didn’t, I don’t even recognize your lying little face!” You clapped back, standing up from your table now as you angrily started shoving all your belongings back into your backpack.

A couple of pencils awkwardly clattered to the floor, but you didn’t bother to retrieve them. They were from Amazon and made your notes from orientation look terrible anyways… cheap fucking ink—

“You were a kinky bitch, too… wanted me to call you mommy while I fingered your asshole in doggystyle and everything.”

“Oh, your pervy little imagination is really running wild today, isn’t it?”

“You keep saying calling me ‘little’ when you could rarely even take me without being prepped!”

“I’m calling you ‘little’ because I don’t even know your fucking name for crying out loud!”

“It’s Jake, and you know that already, so quit playing dumb… you also told me your name when we hooked up in August, but it was probably a fake one since you thought I’d be stupid enough to not remember your face…”

Zipping your last backpack compartment, you sighed at his words, “I’m sorry to hear you’ve mistaken me with someone else, Mr. Jake, but you have to stop with these false claims… I’m not the girl you slept with…”

“Seriously?” he scoffed, shaking his head at you in disappointment as his gaze roamed over your entire frame… “You’re even wearing the same bra…”

His voice trailed off, and you stared at him with wide eyes as if he had just plunged a rusty knife into your miserable gut.

He was right. He was honest… and there was no escaping him now that he had figured you all out.

“I’ll see you in class this week,“ he sighed sullenly before walking off, looking back at you once before fully exiting the shop.

You made a mental note to never let him humiliate you again… even if you couldn’t physically prevent it, you planned to avoid it at all costs…

Tuesday

“He said all of that in public?” Your friend Ningning asked.

“Yes, and in the middle of me ordering my coffee, too…”

“He’s so disrespectful,” Minji added.

“Despicable… he was even shouting it all at the top of his fucking lungs…”

“No one kicked his crazy ass out?”

“No… and I guess that’s a good thing because we both looked fucking insane in that moment…”

“You still haven’t told us why he said all of that to you though,” Juria went on.

“I figured it was probably posted all over the internet by now…”

And you retelling them would only make you relive the incident all over again…

“Well let’s hope not, because a video like that could really ruin your academic standing… even his…”

“I seriously can’t risk that happening again, you guys… there’d be enough proof for them to accuse me this time, too… probably speculating that I was higher than a cloud in that café…”

“Noooo, let’s not even think like that, okay baby?” Juria soothed you with a comforting hand to your back.

“She’s right, everything’s gonna be alright… this’ll just blow over like every other video online,” Minji added with a smile.

“Oh my God…” your friend Ningning exclaimed while looking at her phone.

“What? What is it?”

“You said his name is Jake, right? I just found his Instagram, and his bio has our uni’s initials in it.”

“Yea, I forgot to tell you that part, too… I’ll apparently be seeing him again in English class on Thursday… and every week after that…”

“You need to look into getting transferred to a course with a different professor ASAP,” Minji suggested.

“She can’t. Deadlines already closed for class registration,” Juria added with a pout that mirrored yours.

Though at this point, Ningning was the only one smiling.

“What now, Ning?”

“I mean… y’all are just gonna have to hear me out on this one, but why’s he highkey hella attractive?”

“Give me that,” Minji said while snatching the phone from her, only for her mouth to create an O shape at one of his pictures.

“Relax Ji, you can’t slurp his soul through the screen,” you joked, which only egged them in even further.

“You should give him a second chanceeee,” Minji continued.

“After you just agreed that he’s a disrespectful little cunt?” Juria asked sarcastically.

“Look, I’m just tired of us being the single and hot friend group. It’s not a good match.”

“Mhm… we need a beau to chauffeur us around… buy us designer bags and take us to dinner…” Ningning added.

“Yessss. I’m tired of hookup culture, I need somebody reliable… you should ask him if he has any other hot friends!”

“Ooo, or a brother!”

“You guys are insane,” you chuckle, sitting back in your chair now as you know you only have a few more minutes before class starts.

You didn’t wanna tell your friends what really happened because you didn’t want them to judge you. And although you had a good feeling they wouldn’t, you were still too ashamed to confess… to admit that you had lied to the poor guy, and needlessly to as he wasn’t even trying to get anything from you.

He probably only stopped by to say “Hi” to a familiar face, but you panicked when the truth started to come out…

Wednesday

You were so close to calling in sick and just skipping class for the whole day, simply to avoid bumping into Jake.

But you knew that was a cowardly idea that would only negatively affect your attendance in the long run.

So, after some careful consideration, you came up with your own solution; you planned to wear the most provocative outfit you could find, just to get revenge by teasing him all day.

You wanted him to experience the embarrassment he had put you through when he exposed you in the café… you craved the feeling of being in control of him again.

Though, you knew it wouldn’t be easy because part of you still had a soft spot for him…

He was so caring on all those nights, prioritizing your pleasure while still achieving his own… and then right after, he would ask you about your life, to which you foolishly responded with complete honesty every single time…

You told him about what happened at your old school, about how you were transferring to a new institution, and even details about your family life…

So, when you unexpectedly ran into him on campus that Tuesday, it wasn’t entirely shocking… he had even followed you on Instagram that same day, tagging you and other students under a post entailing his excitement about “finally starting his academic journey on the right track.”

Jake was clearly keeping tabs on you, and you couldn’t fathom what he could possibly want, but you knew it had to be something, and you weren’t gonna sulk over his nice guy act any longer.

Sure, you recall him mentioning his plans to pursue personal projects, but those ambitions have to include you in some way, otherwise, why the fuck would he even be here?

The past version of you would allow such uncertainties to intimidate her, but the new you was ready to stand firm. You had to; it was the only way to change the dynamics of your relationship with him.

Thursday

Straightaway upon reaching the classroom after running up and down the halls for what felt like a second lifetime, you finally made it in.

It didn’t take long for you to spot Jake either, as he was sitting in one of the closest seats he could probably grab.

Nerd, you thought to yourself, making your way towards him with your lace-up Mary Jane heels clicking behind you.

The desks were two-seaters in this class, so you’re lucky enough to have snatched a spot with Jake before some other whore did—

“So you’re not disgusted by my lying little face anymore?” He asked almost immediately after you got settled in the chair, slowly meeting your eyes as if to shame you. Intimidate you.

“Oh I definitely still am,” you corrected, crossing your legs beneath the desk, “I’m simply just sitting next to you…”

“Right… and are you still going by that fake name these days?… What was it again… Raychel with a Y?”

“My real name is ____, alright? Not like you didn’t know that already after stalking me down online—”

He let out a breath through his nose, “I didn’t stalk you, ____—”

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupted, making him look down at his desk for a moment before snickering to himself at your tone.

Your adorably stern voice…

He always found it cute whenever you tried acting like the one who held dominance out of the two of you—

“What shall I call you then?” He asked while smirking, and you resented the way it made your insides flutter.

“Pretty,” you said plainly, and he quirks a brow at you.

“P-pretty?”

“What, do you disagree with that?”

“No,” he clarified, eyes shamelessly checking out your outfit now, “not at all…”

You were wearing a tight white button-up that exposed all your cleavage with a high-pleated skirt and heels.

And if anyone looking didn’t know any better, they’d probably think you were either trying to seduce the professor or get away with wearing borderline lingerie in public—

“There has to be a reason you approached me on orientation,” you began again, reaching in your backpack to pull out your notebooks and stationary, “why?”

“Well,” he started while clearing his throat slightly, “you can’t blame me for wanting to reconnect with an old lover, right?”

“Friend, Jake… we were just friends…”

“Okay, okay, whatever you wanna call it, but,” he whispered, leaning closer to you now as he spoke right below your ear, “wasn’t the sex just amazing… Pretty?”

You angrily swatted his hand from your thigh, to which he snickered at you.

Again.

“Listen, I’m an entirely different woman from the broken one you met two months ago… what we had was nothing,” you whisper-yelled, eyes filled with frustration.

“It certainly doesn’t seem like it was nothing,” Jake said, but his expression had lost its luster as his resting face became blank, and you’re just now realizing that your hand was gripped around his neck tie.

Click click.

The sound of the classrooms front door sounded, craning open with a loud creak to reveal the long-awaited English professor, the bustling classroom gracing her with their full attention.

“Good morning, my bright and wonderful students,” the heavy-set woman announced with glee as she walked up to the chalkboard, “anybody miss me?… No? Just my puppies at home? Okay, let’s get started then… You youngsters can call me Ms. Thompson, by the way!”

God—you sighed within yourself at her attempt to be likable despite her egregious sense of humor—Thursdays were going to be a lot longer than you anticipated…

“Uhm, Britney Spears, why don’t you come up to the board for me real quick,” the teacher said about thirty minutes into the session, and you were so lost in your head, you hadn’t even realized.

“It’s ____, ma’am,” you corrected her, not wanting to have a permanent nickname on the first day of college.

“Could’ve fooled me… anyhow, let’s make our topic of arguments a little more personal now… is there anyone in this room who you’d like to envision as your target offender?”

A smile creeped upon your face at this opportunity, “Yes, actually.”

Your eyes went straight to Jake, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know exactly who you were looking at, especially with the way his face looked now.

“Great! Come on up, Misterrrr…”

“Sim,” he said shyly, standing right beside you at the front of the class.

“Now, state your stance on the following argument, Ms. ____. Today’s topic issss,” her voice trailed off as she fished through her pile of notecards, “The Relevance of the Past in Shaping Identity!”

The classroom air grew thick with anticipation, as mostly everyone in the class had seen they way you two were acting earlier, and the café video that went viral earlier that week.

Though, given your outfit, you were already in the mood for attention today, so this was the perfect topic choice for you to spark a heated debate.

“I just think the past should be left in the past. We shouldn’t let it define who we are today.”

“Could you be more descriptive?” Ms. Thompson urged.

“Well… my view is that we shouldn’t associate any sort of relevance to our past selves and experiences, as we only limit what our future selves can achieve,” you clarified, trying your best to sound confident.

The professor nodded at your words, and you nearly giggled at the look on Jake’s face now.

“Any students in favor of ____’s stance?”

You noticed a little less than half of the classroom raised their hand, with one student in particular extending her hand above everyone elses.

“Yes, Ms. Castillo?”

“I agree with ____’s stance as I believe that humans should treat their lives as the butterfly by means of metamorphosis, where we reflect on our past, reject it, and eventually transform into something more beautiful.”

“This is especially true for victims or survivors, as they might view their past as a hinderance to their growth and finding new identity,” another boy added.

Crossing your arms, you watched as Jake cleared his throat like he always did, right before saying the most annoying shit imaginable.

“You see, that’s where you’re wrong, class. The past is crucial to our character development. You can’t just pretend you’re from a different walk of life or… I don’t know, change your hair a little bit and call it an identity swap…”

A murmur of agreement and disagreement rippled through the class up until a voice from the back spoke up.

It was Alex, a student known for their liberal insights. “Um… sorry to interrupt you Jake, that’s offensive to queer and transitioning people. Please use more inclusive language.”

A few students behind Alex snorted at their words, but Jake’s face flushed with realization, and he nodded respectfully.

“You’re 100% right, Alex. I didn’t mean to offend anyone. I just think that our experiences are relevant in shaping who we are, and that no amount of ‘make-believe’ can erase the impact of the past on both our present and future lives…”

Jake is handling this much better than you thought he would’ve, even though he was picking at his nail bed like a madman.

Ms. Thompson is quick to sense the growing tension though, and steps in before the debate lasts the entire class duration.

“Alright, everyone. Let’s remember that we’re here to learn and respect each other’s opinions. ____ and Jake, you both have valid points. The past can be both a burden and a guide, however, it’s ultimately up to each individual to decide how they let it influence their present and future.”

The class fell silent, reflecting on the professor’s words while scribbling copious notes down in their notebooks.

You flashed Jake a glance, one that he couldn’t read at first, but it still made him feel uneasy.

“So uhhh… that’s how you have an opinionated argument, everyone!” The teacher chirped awkwardly, “you may return to your seats, Mr. Sim and Ms. ____… thank you to everyone who participated in this portion… now, as we turn to page 13, we find that…”

Friday

At the end of class yesterday, Ms. Thompson assigned you and Jake to produce a group PowerPoint presentation by the following week, and you weren’t dreading it as much as you could have.

Your little tough and mean girl act seemed to have successfully scared Jake into some submission towards you… plus, you were having way too much fun teasing him everyday to turn down an opportunity to hang with him one on one.

You both were currently sitting in the campus’s private library to do research on your topic. It was relatively late in the day, so no one was there except you two.

By now, you had already punked Jake into bringing you coffee from the café that was literally a 20 minute walk away, and into agreeing that he’d produce most of the project on his own, but your fun with him hadn’t ended just yet.

Sad as it sounds, he just looked too cute while reading to himself in the grand brown chair across from you… you wouldn’t dare leave him there to study in peace, not while you were in the mood for chaos.

“Jakeyyy~” your voice sang with a cloyingly sweet melody, making his face flush with embarrassment behind his thick-framed glasses at the nickname.

Closing the book he was reading, Jake walked over to where you sat with your foot extended before him, a messy cluster of shoe strings dangling at your ankles.

“A little help here?” You continued, subtly squishing your breasts together with your arms while looking into his eyes.

“Sure,” is all he says as a small smile overtakes his feature. Kneeling down obediently before you, he took your ankle into his grasp, getting to work at re-tying the shoelace for you.

“Thanks,” you say, leaning forward to ruffle his hair as he taps your other foot, signaling for you to lift it so he can re-tie the lace there it as well.

“I didn’t just call you over here to tie my shoes though, Jake,” you whisper, drawing his gaze from your shoes and up to your eyes.

He holds back a sigh, and his chest expands because of it, “What else is it that you want then, ____—“

“Pretty,” you corrected him, moving your foot from his grasp only to let your leg fall, gently pressing the weight of your foot into his bulge, “we talked about this yesterday, Jake… you will never address me by my first name, understood?… Or is that too much to ask?”

Jake felt his whole stomach tense up at the feeling of your foot pressing into his groin, and he tried his best to get a solid answer out, knowing that prolonged silence would only bother you further.

“N-no,” he breathes out shakily, barely meeting your gaze now as the temperature in his face became hotter and hotter, with a mix of his own arousal, embarrassment, and anger, “I u-understand, Pretty…”

You let yourself smile at his compliance, releasing the pressure from your foot in his lap.

“So pathetic,” you announced, watching as he caught his breath on the ground, “I can get you to do anything for me, can’t I Jake?…”

He’s silent for a moment, making you feel impatient now that he was resisting all of a sudden.

“Jakey, I asked you a question—”

“And you really shouldn’t talk to me like that unless you want some sense fucked into you,” he retorted, making your eyes widen with genuine shock at his sudden boldness.

“Excuse me?” You asked with a scoff, but your voice gets lost in the sound of him getting up from the floor, standing over you, caging you beneath his frame in a way that intimidates you.

Jake had been swallowing his pride with you for long enough, and wasn’t gonna let another day pass without putting you in your place.

“I’ve been getting real sick of you treating me like this, y’know that ____?”

But before you can even think to answer, he’s reaching for the cup of coffee he fetched for you earlier and bringing it to your mouth, a ring of condensation glistening on the desk.

Trying to maintain your dominance, you let out a feigned laugh of amusement that Jake is quick to cut off with his stern words.

“Jake, what is this, huh?” You asked, giving him a fed up look even though your heartbeat was beating faster than the speed of light below his dark gaze.

“Drink it, ____….” He orders with a deep voice, eyes becoming so dark now that you can’t even bring yourself to refuse.

And you’re impossibly annoyed, too… by the way he’s very intentionally using your real name while simultaneously making you feel as feeble as a fairy.

Hesitantly bringing the cup to your mouth, it doesn’t take long before Jake smacks the coffee out of your hand, leaving the cold liquid to spill all over you.

“Jake, what the fuck?!” You shouted, shivering as the caramel-colored liquid trickled into all the intimate crevices of your body.

“How embarrassing,” he said, shaking his head, “making such a mess of yourself in front of me…”

Balling your fists, you look him dead in the eyes as you shout, “That was all you’re doing, you stupid fucking clutz- JAKE, s-stop that!” Your voice cracked at the feeling of his hand smacking you across the face now, surely leaving a cut in your lip as he soon went to squish your lips together into an odd shape, maintaining a painful grip.

“If only your brain was as big as your tits,” he clicked his teeth, wearing a somewhat neutral facial expression at first until a smirk started tugging at the corner of his lips…

“And now you’re crying?” He scoffs, almost as if both annoyed and amused by the moisture forming at the beds of your eyes.

During all this though, your mind was in a complete haze, not being able to wrap your head around how innocent he still looked while talking to you like this…

Hell, even his cheeks were still blushing, and you could tell he was getting harder behind his pants.

Jake caught onto your staring though, swallowing the urge to just fuck you right then and there.

“Take off your top,” he demanded, releasing your face from his grip and taking a few steps back, “I can’t believe you even want to be called ‘pretty’ while wearing such a filthy thing…”

“Who cares? You still got hard just from looking at me,” you jabbed back through a wobbly voice given your tears.

That’s when a feeling of chills ran up and down your skin, and it’s hard to keep up the tough girl act once Jake started unbuckling the belt he wore, keeping an intense eye contact with you the entire time.

“Just like old times,” he said, making your organs irk at how easily you found yourself falling down the same rabbit hole with him, but things were far too gone to turn back now. You complied with his words, sliding your top over your head and exposing yourself now, the swell of your breasts looking so delightful while cupped in the lace of your bra.

“You’re making this too easy for me,” he grinned, tossing his belt to the floor with a clink before closing the space between you both, still standing up as he slides his fingers against your scalp, gently gripping the hair.

But it feels so good that you almost purr at the contact, even though his behavior was a bit unsettling to you.

That’s when he landed another smack to your face, snickering at how loud you winced given the sudden shock of sensations.

“God, what the hell is wrong with you?” You yell at him, trying to escape his daunting frame but you have no chance against his strength, especially not while sitting down in a chair… “You’re a freak, Jake!”

You kept wrestling beneath him, provoking him to yank your arm harshly and pull you out of the chair and onto the floor, your bare knees hitting the floor with a thud.

“And you’re a little bitch,” he bit back, handling your body with ease as he situates you before him on your knees, taking your spot in the chair and spreading his legs.

And his belt isn’t too far from him now either, compelling him to reach down for it and use it to secure one of your wrists to the chair before finally shimmying his pants down.

So lost in your thoughts, you watch with a mix of fear, disgust, and anticipation at the erectness hiding behind his boxers, just as his taunting voice resounds again.

“C’mon, ____… it’s about time you make good use of that big mouth of yours…”

With teary eyes, you watch as his full length slips out, smacking against his abdomen as the burning in your restrained wrist feels worse now.

Everything feels worse now… you had never felt so humiliated in your entire life.

He tapped the tip of his cock against your lips, using a thumb at your jaw to pry your mouth open and push himself in.

And as much as you didn’t wanna admit it, you were enjoying this a lot more than expected…

You had always preferred men who were more on the submissive side, and Jake, being a nerdy introvert, was no exception to that craving.

However, you didn’t mind him getting a little rough with you either, and perhaps that’s why you felt ashamed for it… you felt vulnerable with the idea of admitting you liked being someone else’s play thing…

“Stroke me like you used to, ____… ‘atta girl,” he groaned, watching with pleasure as you let your free hand find his shaft, stroking the bass as he kept your mouth secured around the tip.

And as embarrassing as it sounds, you felt yourself getting wet just from sucking him off, the sounds of your own throat gurgling around his length being a turn on for the both of you.

“I bet you still haven’t even told your friends about what really happened between me and you, huh? Imagine if they knew your lips liked sucking my cock just as much as they liked lying…” he slithered, keeping your head angled back just enough for him to get a full look at your face while you took him in your mouth.

Jake soon catches onto the way you’re closing your thighs together as tears continue to well in your eyes, and he lets himself snicker at how needy and pathetic you looked before him...

“What is it, Pretty? Hm? Don’t want your friends to find out about how much of a raging cock-slut you are?”

You moaned softly as he gently pulled your head from around him, and a string of your own saliva and his precum keeps you two connected as he finally loosens the belt around your wrist.

“When’d you get so mean, Jake?” You asked weakly, voice a bit raspy now after taking him in your mouth.

He almost couldn’t look you straight in the eye after asking that, but he had to keep his act going… he had to put you in your place—

“I only get this way when I have to,” he practically whispered, and part of you couldn’t even get annoyed with him for it.

You felt the same just a few moments ago, and you’re just now realizing how much you and Jake really have in common—

“Get up,” he ordered, and you listened, standing on shaky legs as he pulled your panties down, letting them rest at your ankles as he stood up to meet you.

Without speaking, he simply pointed at the chair he was just sitting in, and you’re given the opportunity to choose the position.

You decide to get back on your knees, bend over the chair, and stick your bare ass out for him, and he snickered at the sight, kneeling down himself now.

He ran a hand over the curve of your hip before landing a hard smack there, his own cock twitching every time you winced.

After this, he wastes no time in gliding his cock between your folds, right before plunging his tip into your sloppy cunt and groaning at the feeling.

“Fuck~,” he cursed under his breath, trying to adjust himself inside you, “has it really been so long that even your pussy’s gotten tighter?”

“Well your tiny cock definitely didn’t get any bigger- nghh~…,” you whined through a bitten lip, trying to suppress your moaning as he started to bottom out, over and over again.

“And here I was thinking you’d actually shut up for once,” he sighed, but his voice was clearly being affected by the way you felt around him.

He had been missing this… all of it, and not even just the sex. Jake wanted more to come out of your relationship with him, but if this is how you wanted to play, so be it—he still got something good out of it.

You can’t remember what you were going to say, but your thoughts were harshly cut by the feeling of his hand pulling you up by your throat and holding you close to his body.

“Let’s see… do you still squirm while having your tits touched? Do you still squirt just from the sound of my voice?” He whispered, and your breath was so restricted that all you could do was pant pathetically.

His released his grip pretty quickly though, only for his hands to find your breasts and fondle with them as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

“J-Jake,” your voice bobbled, given the strong impact of his hips behind you, “d-don’t you fucking dare…”

“What do you mean, Pretty?” He asked, snickering now at the way your thighs trembled briefly, “you’re a flashy little bitch, but that doesn’t mean I can read your mind…”

You groaned at his words, feeling lightheaded now that his tip was brushing up against your cervix.

“Don’t… fuckkk~… don’t tell anyone about this…”

“Which part of this, hm?” He asked knowingly, “the part where I made you cry or the part where I finish inside you?”

“N-not any of it, just- please…” your words slurred, and your heart started to ache just as much as your core with a mix of worry and desperation.

Of course, you were enjoying every part of this, but you didn’t wanna face the embarrassment that’d come with it if anyone found out…

Just imagine it… how down bad must you be to (1) let a guy hit it after treating you like shit, and (2) in the middle of the campus library of all places?

He’s slamming into you so hard and fast that you lost track of your thoughts again, and the squelching sounds coming from the two of you only adds to the warmth growing in your faces—

“That’s really what you want? Huh?” Jake asked with a low growl to his voice, and all you can reply with is a string of whiny yes’s.

“Beg for it louder,” he demanded, “beg for me to keep fucking you like a good little slut…”

And you did, letting your hips bounce to a rythme with his thrusts as your high drew closer and closer to approaching.

“P-please, Jake! I’ll do anything! I’ll be a g-good cock-slut just for you if that’s what you want… I-I’ll even let you cum in me,” you stammered, only for your pleading lips to trail off as a symphony of moans ripped through your body, his harsh hand smacking your ass one more before holding you in place by a handful of your hair.

“Yea, Pretty? Want me to fill your juicy pussy up with my cum? Gonna let me fuck it back into you nice and slow? Yea?” He rambled breathlessly, panting in place of groaning so he could get his words out better.

Crying out another yes, Jake’s hip plummeted into you as hard as they could, your breasts rocking back and forth with the force until you finally felt it; your walls pulling him in as his first spurt made you shiver, and then his second spurt made you climax.

“Awww, fuck!” You whimpered, shaking beneath him as he rode out his high inside you.

It didn’t take long for him to stand up, though, and just in time to pull up his pants and readjust your panties before the library doors creaked open as a new soul joined the space.

It was a girl. You could tell me the gentle hums that bumped from her throat, echoing off of the shelves of books.

“____! Minji said I might find you studying here, so I came to check since you’ve been hiding from us… And don’t even think about scolding me for yelling in here!” The voice called out, and you immediately knew it was Juria from her accent.

She had just came back from class to return a few books that she borrowed earlier, and your heart never pumped as fast as it did when Jake landed a harsh smack to your clothed cunt while holding you in place, even though you tried squirming away.

Everything in you was fighting to avoid being caught like this, and even more so because Juria was literally 30ft away from you two.

When she finally made her way over, though, the poor girl nearly dropped the stack of books she was holding, delicate eyebrows furrowing behind her silky bangs as her lips asked the words, “What on earth happened over here?”

You were sitting beside a now standing Jake with your cold ass right against the tile floor as you lazily slumped over the reading chair, being too fucked out to bother moving.

Your hair was a mess atop your head and your outfit was totally disarrayed, foggy mascara smudged beneath your swollen eyes and your whole body reeking of bittersweet aromas.

Juria couldn’t put a finger on it, but she knew something had happened. Something off…

“She spilled coffee all over herself…” Jake eventually answered, an aura of emptiness being present in both his expression and tone… an eeriness that made both you and Juria tremble in the knees…

From that moment, he simply walked past you both, looking back only once before leaving… he glanced at you first before looking Juria straight in the eye, his expression only now softening as one last line escaped his venomous lips…

“Such a silly girl, isn’t she?…”

⋆♱✮ Thank you to everyone who made it to the end of this fic, which actually concludes DAY 7 of my Kinktober Event !! If you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

@watamotee33, @addictedtohobi, @ot7sevenlvr

⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

@mheretoreadff @skzfelixlove @inishij

@yaorzu-blog @andromedawillburyyou @ramyeonzprincess

@zaihypen @simjaeyunns @gardenwonnies @hynier

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @enhymeowz @minhosimthings @stormy1408

@crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg

@d-dilemma @mrsjohnnysuh

759 notes · View notes

jonnywaistcoat · 10 months ago

Note

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

#writing advice #rambling #first drafts #gotta say not mad on being called a horrormaster #feel like ive a ways to go yet #horror journeyman maybe

1K notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 9 months ago

Text

it must be a sign | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem deaf! red bull engineer!reader

when the two most unbothered people in the paddock combine their joint powers to be the it couple

request sent by the lovely @bibissparkles xx

author's note: heyyy so many of you won't know but i am actually deaf - i am 50% deaf in both ears and wear hearing aids so i love requests like this! (all i do most of this stuff as a deaf person, turning off your hearing aids >)

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 302,446 others

yourusername: you can't complain about the dutch national anthem when you can just turn your hearing aids off

view all comments

user1: the way max's engineer is as sick of that damn song as us

user2: turning off her hearing aids makes how bored she looks during podiums make sense

yourusername: it was a banger during the mercedes dominance but would it kill someone to play the australian anthem

danielricciardo: i knew you missed me

yourusername: sure, jan.

user3: her and max signing slay to each other will always be so personal to me

maxverstappen1: gonna pretend you didn't just say that

yourusername: boo hoo babe, you gotta lose something sometimes

user4: babe? are the flowers from max?

maxverstappen1: would rather choke on my own spit and fall into a pit of snakes, hope this helps ❤️

yourusername: rude! i wouldn't want flowers from you either :(

user5: i swear we get into this argument every weekend, i think people will still assume they're together until their married to other people

liamlawson30: stop using me as a messenger pigeon please and thank you

yourusername: but i thought red bull gave you wings?

liamlawson30: do not use a pr answer against me 🤨

yourusername: no comment

liamlawson30: choke.

yourusername: idk what's going on in the red bull junior academy but spit in helmut's coffee not mine

user6: y/n consistently giving all the red bull guys shit is my favourite thing ever

user7: the amount of times the sky broadcast has caught her waving them off or taking her hearing aids out lol

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 782,309 others

oscarpiastri: switched four tyres for two this weekend

view all comments

user11: you can't distract us with your slutty bike pics WHO THE FUCK IS THAT

landonorris: A WOMAN? A WOMAN? IS THAT A WOMAN OSCAR JACK PIASTRI?

oscarpiastri: yeah i'm pretty sure

landonorris: don't play smart with me buster - why was i not informed?

oscarpiastri: i don't ask to be informed of every time you get rejected in the instagram dms

landonorris: FAKE NEWS

oscarpiastri: okay buddy

user12: i be seeing the sign language book, oscar you are so real for that

user13: that's my king, i need a oscar and y/n link up in the paddock - my unbothered queens

user14: she's in the likes !!!!!!

logansargent: oh we've entered the soft launch phase i see

oscarpiastri: and what?

logansargent: someone is feeling defensive this morning, dude i won't tell i've already kept it a secret for so long

landonorris: HE KNOWS? DOES BEING YOUR TEAMMATE MEAN NOTHING?

oscarpiastri: he's my childhood best friend?

logansargent: there's levels to this game norris

landonorris: @oscarpiastri consider yourself UNDER SURVEILLANCE

oscarpiastri: okay girly

user15: oscar has the patience of a saint, the mystery gal may want to rethink it before having to deal with them all

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 381,044 others

yourusername: unrelaxed, unbothered, moisturised ✨

view all comments

user18: queen SHIT THAT AIN'T SHIT

user19: but this mystery man IS

maxverstappen1: yeah sorry about that... but at least boyfy has made his instagram debut?

yourusername: about time, he's too sexy to gatekeep

maxverstappen1: well i'm not going to agree out of respect for you

yourusername: so you don't think he's sexy? i might not be able to hear but HE CAN MAX BE NICE

maxverstappen1: first of all it's a text, second of all i've been way too nice to him

yourusername: he beat you in padel fair and square you're just SHIT AT IT ❤️

maxverstappen1: you know that's a sore subject WHY WOULD YOU BRING IT UP

user20: my queen was really like you wanna tell me to fuck off? oh here's my sexy boyfriend

user21: jos verstappen really didn't know who he was tangling with that gal may be chill but she doesn't take shit

user22: she's like a female version of oscar lol

user23: i knew there was a reason i liked her

this comment was liked by yourusername

danielricciardo: why am i left out of everything these days?

yourusername: snooze you lose

danielricciardo: I AM AWAKE REPLY TO MY TEXTS

danielricciardo: I JUST SAW YOU PUT YOUR PHONE ON DO NOT DISTURB

yourusername: protecting my peace

danielricciardo: i'm on to you buster

oscarpiastri

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 1,209,455 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: overjoyed to get my first (proper) win in formula one and even more overjoyed to have my amazing girlfriend (and even better engineer) up on the podium with me

view all comments

user27: so this was the special occasion?

user28: so this is why she said she wanted the australian national anthem over the dutch one?

user29: this is now my roman empire

yourusername: babe is so fucking good and i'm so fucking proud

oscarpiastri: i'm so glad to have been able to share this moment with you

yourusername: you deserve this and more, i love you

oscarpiastri: i love you too xx

user30: wait so oscar knows so much more sign language than i thought

user31: he looked so excited and even mark knows some

logansargent: he forced (we were happy to do so) me, mark and his family to learn as soon as he secured the date lol

oscarpiastri: and now we're all so cool because of it

logansargent: cool and able to chat shit without people knowing what we're saying

yourusername: best bit about it tbf (everyone please learn, it's a beautiful language)

landonorris: I KNEW IT

oscarpiastri: no you didn't

landonorris: no i didn't :( i'm hurt

oscarpiastri: if it's any consolation, we didn't tell many people, max and logan are exceptions

landonorris: WHY WAS I NOT AN EXCEPTION???

yourusername: boo hoo

landonorris: i'm not gonna say anything back to that you kinda scare me

yourusername: good ❤️

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, oscarpiastri and 529,778 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & oscarpiastri

yourusername: me and a racewinner (and our world champion third wheel)

view all comments

user32: fave trio in the paddock no competition

logansargent: logan erasure

yourusername: we love you logan, sunday roast at mine this weekend ❤️

logansargent: SCORE

user33: every time you post there's a new plushie

yourusername: we usually get one to commemorate a big weekend and we both got one for osc's first win

user34: that's so FUCKING CUTE

oscarpiastri: it's all fun and games until you don't fit in the bed because y/n feels too bad to put any of them on the floor

yourusername: they have FEELINGS OSCAR

oscarpiastri: she cried one time when max set off the smoke alarm cooking breakfast and the bed alarm shook so bad that all of them were thrown to the floor

yourusername: it was HARROWING but it also did wake me up so at least we know it works

maxverstappen1: actually my favourite couple to third wheel, but enjoy it while it's here osc, i won't lose again

yourusername: yeah sorry osc it's actually my job to help max win so you're gonna have to wait for him to retire if i have anything to do with it

oscarpiastri: not even for me :(

yourusername: sorry not sorry (i'm really sorry, i love you so much)

oscarpiastri: i love you too even if you won't sabotage max for my race :(

maxverstappen1: okay i know i said you guys are cute but that's enough for today

yourusername: we ARE cute thank you

oscarpiastri: the CUTEST

fin.

note: heheheheh i hope you enjoyed this, i love requests like this xx also on the comment about the bed alarm i had one in uni halls and when the alarm went off that baby SHOOK it was kinda scary

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #oscar piastri instagram au #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader

4K notes · View notes

mythicmanuscripts · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! It's me again! 🤗

I was reading about the awful things that happened to Aegon in the brothel. Him so desperately trying to be taken care of and only finding more abuse broke my heart 🥺 and also got me thinking... What if he doesn't have a good, loving wife to make it all better? 😭 What if instead, one of the workers (Reader) finally takes pity on him and treats him the way he needs so much? Taking him away from the awful workers and under her wing? I imagine he would become instantly addicted. Never letting other worker touch him again. Only accepting her services. I bet he would get possessive as well. Paying an enormous amount of gold to be the only one that can touch her.

Do you think he would dare bring her to live in the castle? Or even more scandalous, actually MARRY her? Or he would be too scared of his pious mother's reaction (as well as the rest of the kingdoms') to a whore becoming queen? There is also the possibility of him just gifting her a big house with servants, close to the castle, so he can visit whenever he wants needs... Sooooo many possibilities! 😳

What do you think?

Oh my god. Are you sure you don't want to take over this blog because this is INCREDIBLE??? I am obsessed. I actually think I'm gonna tag this with 'subby Aegon!au' so that we can discuss this more and you guys can easily use the tag to find everything about this because I fear this may be my new obsession.

Anyway, NSFW sub!aegon that starts very angsty but has a happy ending under the cut!!

So for anyone who missed the post that inspired this, we were discussing how Aegon would know he was a submissive and go to a brothel to submit to the workers there. He desperately wants to just be loved and cared for and feel like a good boy but none of the workers will do that and he doesn't quite have the language to explain what he wants/needs. So instead he just ends up going through all this abuse and humiliation and degradation just to hear them say he did well at the end. He always goes into subdrop afterwards and he feels so terrible but he also can't stop going because it's the only time that he actually feels like he's good enough.

For this AU, I think it makes the most sense that you first encounter Aegon after he's had a scene with someone else? Cause Aegon always pays very VERY well and so the brothel workers who have dominated him always ensure that no one else can lay with him because they want all that money? Like maybe the madam of the brothel you work at has a very strict rule that no one other than her is allowed to lay with the king. Of course there's plenty of rumours going around the brothel about what he likes he and pretty much everyone knows that the madam dominates him.

You first encounter Aegon after he finished a particularly brutal scene with the madame. Half an hour later when the madam wants to use that room again he's still laying there? He hasn't even gotten dressed, is just laying there with a thin blanket wrapped around himself.

The madam does not want to deal with him because she knows from experience that he gets all clingy and weepy after a scene and so she sends you in to kick him out. Well, she tells you to kick him out.

But then you walk in and he just... he looks so small? You slowly walk over and gently place your hand on his shoulder. He jumps up and scrambles off the bed, mumbling apologies because he knows the madam told him to leave and he still hadnt.

You quickly tell him it's alright, that he's done nothing wrong and the look he gives you is just so heartbreaking? He's all wide eyed and shocked and there's a very very small smile on his face when he whispers, "Really? I... you're sure? I'm good?"

Which, yeah there's no way you're kicking him out now. You help him get back into his clothes and then take him to your private room. The rule is supposed to be no clients in the personal quarters, but this is quite literally the king so you don't see anyone complaining.

You keep an arm wrapped around his waist, guiding him like that and he just leans against you? You can't believe that the madam doesn't stay with him after she dominates him, especially because he's just so sweet? He's leaning against you, mumbling thanks and letting you lead him without complaint. He's so sweet and vulnerable and you can't believe the madam would leave him and not care for him.

He's so shocked when he finds himself in your private quarters, and he's even more surprised when you wet a rag and gently clean the tears off his face. He leans into every one of your touches, trying to soak up as much attention as he can.

You ask him if you can undress him again so you can clean him properly, and he just starts sobbing and throws himself in your arms because he can't believe how lucky he is. You just hold him and tell him that he's doing so good, that you just want to get him cleaned up a little more and then he can take a nice nap with you.

He closes his eyes and cries silently as you clean him. There are welts on his back from the madam's whip so you have to ensure you clean them properly or risk infection. You expect to have to clean dried cum from between his thighs but to your surprise there's nothing?

When you ask, he just wines and mumbles, "Wasnt good, couldnt cum" which just breaks your heart because you refuse to entertain any possibility that this sweet little thing wasnt absolutely perfect.

You finish cleaning him and you're about to help him get his clothes back on when he just kinda collapses onto the bed. You don't even bother with that then and instead you just get into bed with him.

"Come here," you tell him, opening your arms and he immediately dives right in. You hold him tight and when you press a kiss to the e top of his head he just melts into you.

When he wakes, he's hard. He tries to apologise for it but you won't hear it, and you ask if you can help him. He tries to shake his head and say that he can't go through that again, but then you interrupt him and promise him that you only mean helping him cum and do nothing else.

He's so sweet when you stroke him, mumbling how good it feels and begging to cum and after he does, he even takes your hand and licks it clean? He's just the bed boy and he's clearly trying so so hard to please you, so you make sure to praise him constantly because the poor thing deserves it.

The next time he comes to the brothel, he tells the madam to get lost and asks for you. He won't even consider another, not after you cared for him and praised him and made him feel safe. Of course the madam is not happy about this, but she cant stop him and so he goes to the room and waits for you.

When you walk in and ask why he's asked for you, he just says that he really liked you from before. And then he actually looks nervous? Like you might tell him that he has to go back to the madam.

You tell him that as much as you'd love to, you can't do what the madam does to him. You explain that you can't degrade him or slap him or anything like that. But then he just smiles even wider and tells you he doesn't want that, he just wants what you did last time.

He seems all blushy and nervous and there's a very obvious tent in his breeches. You smirk then and say, "Aw, do you want me to take care of you? Yeah? Let me do all the thinking and you can just be my pretty good boy?"

Instantly he's slipping from the bed and down onto his knees, kneeling and nodding comically quick because yes. That's everything he's ever wanted and more.

And he's just so good for you? He listens to every single order, and he begs so prettily and his sounds are just insane. When it's over, you pull him into your chest and kiss his head and tell him he did so so well for you. He's just on cloud nine, because this is absolutely everything he's ever wanted and more.

When he leaves, he pays you double what he pays the Madam and when you tell him that's too much, he says that there's no amount of gold in the world that could be enough to thank you for how you looked after him. He asks if he can come back, if you'll let him do that again and of course you agree to let him.

The madam isnt happy with you of course, but she can't exactly force the king to lay with her instead. For about three weeks things continue like that, with Aegon visiting every few days and paying you very very handsomely. He always stays for a few hours after this, just getting cuddles and kisses.

After a while, the madam comes to you and is unhappy that Aegon will not be with anyone else. Aegon pays very handsomely and he also lets them basically beat him up, so of course the madam is unhappy that she no longer get aegon's time. Aegon, meanwhile, will not even look at another.

The next time Aegon comes to the brothel, you're with another client? As much as you wish that you could just see Aegon, if you did that then the madam would kick you out. The madam is overjoyed when Aegon walks in and you're with another client, because it means she can swoop in and tell Aegon you're busy but that she'd be more than happy to do it instead.

And Aegon just... he knew that obviously you had other clients, but knowing and actually being there while you were with someone else are two different things. His smile falls instantly, and he says that he doesn't want anyone else. The madam tries again, maybe even touching him and telling him to think about all the good times they had, which prompts him to stumble backwards and very firmly say that he won't be seeking the services of anyone else.

He ends up leaving the brothel and then comes back the following night and is so so relieved to find that you are free. He's much more whiney and clingy than you're used to, to the point where he cries if you even let go of his hand. You end up having to pull away o ask what's going on, because he seems very distressed. You hadnt seen him like that since you took care of him that first night.

He gets quiet and then eventually asks how many other men you see every day. You sigh, because you knew this question was coming and you're not sure what to say to him. You end up just saying that this is your job, and that the madam is already upset with you for being the only one he goes to so you can't risk only seeing him because then you'd almost certainly be kicked out of the brothel entirely and have no wear to live.

Before you had even finished speaking Aegon had already made up his mind to give you enough gold that you never have to be with anyone else. You try to tell him that's not necessary, but for him it absolutely is. He will not allow the only person who makes him feel good in the entire seven kingdoms to struggle to earn a living when he is quite literally the king.

At first you turn him down, stating that you have to earn your own way and that you can't rely on him.

And then he goes quiet for a moment before he just softly says, "But, I rely on you? We can rely on each other?" Which is just the sweetest thing you've ever heard. You kiss his head and let him curl against your chest, giving him a little squeeze before telling him that you won't let him pay everything, but you will ket him pay enough to the madam that she will allow you to only take clients of your choice and also to set aside 4 nights every week that are just for him. It's not everything he wanted, but it's pretty damn close. And Aegon is so obsessed with you that he will absolutely take 4 days a week of your undivided attention.

It carries on like that for a while, with you and him being together 4 nights a week and he's just... he's so sweet and he's so perfect and he loves being with you so much. Maybe sometimes he doesn't even want anything sexual? Which yeah is wild cause Aegon is pretty much always horny, but when he's getting so thoroughly fucked every second day, sometimes he just wants to be with you.

Even when he doesn't want something sexual, that is not at all to say he doesn't still want to come be with you. Aegon would sleep in the same bed as you every single night if he could. He also just loves being able to talk to you about his day? You always listen to him and offer him advice. He's never really even able to feel like he can decompress at the end of the day, but now he's always able to with you. He knows that the moment he walks through the doors, you will know how to help him.

I think that eventually you'd accept his offer of him being your only client, and the day you tell him that he is smiling and giggling for the entire day. He definitely buys you a little cottage close to the keep, and as much as you try to say he doesn't need to, he won't hear it.

In fact he actually loves providing for you like that? You do so so much for him and he knows he'd never be able to function without you and so to know that he can do something to help you is just amazing and it makes him so so so happy.

I absolutely adore this concept!! This ask is already insanely long so I'm not gonna go any further here but if anyone else has thoughts about this let me know!!! I'd love to discuss it more :))

#subby Aegon!au #sub!aegon #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon smut #aegon the second #king aegon #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd

465 notes · View notes

bunny-jpeg · 6 months ago

Note

can i place an order under sainz's name? i'd like a banana bread and a nanaimo bars, plus a coffee with an extra vodka shot, pleaseee. OH and maybe some tea too (if you're up for it) thanks a ton!

the bakery menu

there are still so many delicious treats on the menu! so feel free to submit your own order! as for this order, i love a anon who knows what they want! being rivals with mister carlos, say no more! the drama! the action! the smut!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + coffee (rivals) + vodka shot (rough sex) served by carlos sainz jr. order up!

cw: smut/pwp, rivals (to lovers) au, driver!reader, rough sex, hot seat/reverse cowgirl position, humor, slight hair pulling

red bull racing had two stars, after the departure of checo the previous season, the team had brought someone else in. you. first woman f1 had in a long time. most sort of laughed off your stint on the track as a novelty, until you ended up on podium in your first race.

you even had you teammate a little worried.

that was how you ended up as carlos' rival. it wasn't that carlos was mad that he was being beaten by a woman. it was how you were all smiles and 'good luck's to other drivers. you were so civil and sweet, that it made carlos want to beat you even more. to him when you shook his hand after the japanese grand prix and gave him a dazzling grin, it felt like rubbing salt in his fourth placement.

"you'll get them next time, carlos. season's not over yet!"

carlos wanted you, the way that a wolf craved rabbit. he wanted to sink his teeth into you. he wanted to feel you under him as he took you apart and licked every inch of skin. even a possessive part of him wanted you in the bright ferrari red colours, showing that he staked a claim on the newest hot shot in formula one.

he honestly thought he'd never get the chance. until you showed up at his hotel room right before the spanish grand prix. you looked at him and then grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled him into a searing kiss.

carlos heard laughter and when the kiss broke, he saw oscar and lando nearby laughing. when he turned back to you, you were looking in shock with your hand still in his shirt.

before carlos could say anything you looked over to the pair close by and went, "see. nothing." but you were pulled into another kiss which you melted into. carlos could taste the wine on your tongue.

oh, you were getting drunk with the mclaren boys and this was all some stupid little dare. so when you pulled away once more and tried to apologize. he placed a hand on the top of your head and said, "why don't you come inside and get some water. and away from them."

oscar piped up, "you can't take away our drinking buddy."

carlos replied, "you two can drink alone." before he shuffled you inside and closed the door. play stupid games, win stupid prizes was all he thought before he had his hands on you once more. he took you by the waist and pressed a series of kisses up against your cheek and neck.

you were trembling like a leaf against him.

"tell me to stop." he said. this was a line that would be scary to cross, but he could feel your heat through your clothes and against him. a little fantasy come to life.

normally so steady in your tone, your voice was shaky when you said, "i don't want you to stop. i'm so sorry, carlos. they thought it would be funny and whatnot and i-"

he held the back of your head and made you look to him, "you didn't need a dare for you to come here. now, have you had too much to drink to do anything?" he didn't want to hurt you, maybe a little play in the bedroom but not real hurt.

he was your rival, not your enemy.

you held onto the front of his t-shirt and replied, "i want you. that was what the whole dare was. they thought i didn't have the balls to kiss you. i know, it sounds like we're teenagers. but they got two glasses of wine in me before i was stomping over to prove them wrong."

he laughed and held onto your hips, who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it." he saw your expression change before he pulled you in for a tight kiss, his hands went to the slope of your ass and grabbed onto it tightly.

"don't make me blush!" you squeaked

he loved this side of you, so different from the humorous, head strong driver, "oh, you'll be doing a lot more than blushing." then guided you towards the bedroom.

he noticed that you were in nothing but stretchy shorts and a big white t-shirt with printed socks that you had pulled up past your ankles. he saw that the socks had little lions on them.

he sat down on the bed and beckoned you to sit on his lap. he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap. his laps were on your clothed back, he yearned to get you naked.

"how do you like it?" he said, his lips close to your back, "how do you want me to fuck you?"

you swallowed, "rough. i always imagined it rough. i see how you look at me after races. when i narrowly beat you out, it looks like you want to eat me alive."

he chuckled, "maybe eat you out, but i think i could never hurt you. not on purpose."

you looked at him, "you suck as a rival."

he remarked, his hand on your chin, "then i guess i'll have to be a lover then." before he let go of it and took your shirt by the bottom and pulled it up over your head, leaving you in tight shorts and a cute grey sports bra.

he let you get up to full get unclothed. he did the same, when you caught sight of his cock you swallowed. the size was impressive and made heat pool in your core. he leaned back a little and looked at you in front of him. he grasped his cock and stroked it, "like what you see?"

you nodded as you pulled down your panties. you saw his expression change and you asked, with a little more confidence in your tone, "do you like what you see?"

he responded, "i bet it'll feel even better." he watched you get in his lap, but you were facing towards the door of the bedroom in a hybrid lap sex and reverse cowgirl. it gave him perfect access to the sight of your pretty ass.

there were little pleasantries exchanged between his cock and your pussy before you sank down on it. your hands on his knees as you started to ride him.

carlos' cock fit nicely in your aching sex. you were already drenched from his kisses and the notion that you'd get to have sex with him. your core throbbed with a deep want as you were fast with your thrusts.

he grabbed your hair tightly and pulled your head back so he could kiss at your neck. he kept you close to him, holding onto you like you were going to run away. he met your thrusts, they were a bit more brutal as his cock hit the back of your pussy.

he said to you, "i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name."

"is that a promise?"

"yes." then held your hip and hair as he started to thrust harder, fully taking hold of the situation. you may be physically on top, but carlos was the one in charge. savoring every moment that he got to bed his little rival. or rather lover, now.

the pulling of your hair felt good, the roughness of his movements made you grow wetter with each heavy stroke.

"carlos." you panted.

"that's it. fuck, you feel so good for me." he responded, his grip was a little tighter on you. he loved watching you meet his pace and bounce on his cock. next time he'd make sure to keep you front facing so he could see that pretty face of yours. he was certain there was going to be a next time.

"i don't want to be your rival anymore." you panted.

he looked at the back of your head, those beautiful brown eyes gazed at your back side as you worked his cock. he licked his lips and said, "then why don't we become lovers, then?" he smiled when you made a soft moaning noise, his hand in your hair went to your neck and pulled you against him. he bit at your shoulder and collarbone as he pinned you to him and thrusted up into you. "what do you say, mi amor?"

you panted, "please, carlos. i want to be yours."

he laughed, "that's what i like to hear. your name sounds so good on your tongue." he kissed behind your ear with a sense of tenderness. you were bouncing on his lap, the both of your naked on the expensive hotel bed.

he moved against you and kissed the nape of your neck as he bullied his cock into you. his grip was tight on you and it made you pant and whine for more. he fit so good inside of you.

"please, ah, carlos!" you moaned as you clutched onto his strong arms. you kicked out your legs and your cunt tigthened around his length. the pleasure caught up to you and you whined through your orgasm.

part of you prayed no one else in ferrari heard you, carlos' pace was still relentless as he moved against you. you felt so good seated on his cock, he knew your pussy was so pretty and wet.

"that's it. that's it." he panted in your ear, his voice hot and ran through your overstimulated body. he rutted against you before he gave one last thrust then spilled inside of you.

he came and it left him feeling very good as he slowed the pace down and relaxed against you. his arms still around you but his head on your shoulder.

you wanted to kiss him, but your limbs felt shaky. your head felt heavy as you came down from the intensity.

"mi amor." he said.

"shh. shh." you panted as you wiped the sweat off your forehead. it felt nice just being held by the other driver.

you soon tumbled into bed with carlos, your bodies pressed together. his forehead against yours as he laughed a little. he held your face for comfort. he said, "that felt good."

you nodded and kissed him on the lips, "i hope you know, just because you're not my rival doesn't mean i will go easy on you. it'll still be a battle of the track."

he dropped his hands down to your waist and went in for another kiss. which was followed by a few across your cheeks, "of course, i wouldn't want it any other way. but, i still will come out on top. i want to fuck you in front of the a nice shiny trophy."

you laughed and replied, "oh don't worry sainz, next time i win we can do that." then winked at him.

the next morning, in the early hours, you exited carlos' room with a prayer that no one saw you. as you carefully closed the door behind you, you heard your name and looked over.

you were met face to face with your teammate. your eyes went wide as you tried to play it off, "oh hey there... bud."

"what were you doing in carlos' room?" he asked.

you shrugged, "oh, you know how it is. a few drinks and fast asleep in front of the television." you laughed it off, "no big deal."

"right."

but something clicked as the two of you looked at one another. it was tense between you two for a moment before you had to ask the question, "but max." you said, "why are you in ferrari's room area too?"

you two would never speak about this ever again. <3

758 notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years ago

Text

losers | remus lupin

“Please.”

“Please?” he says back, mirroring your soft tone. “You think you need to say please?” His pinky bumps under the waistband of your trousers. There isn’t much give. He traces the lining to your zipper, fiddling with the small piece of metal as your eyes darken. “I should be the one saying it.” His voice keeps dropping, an utterance in the shell of your ear, his words for you and you alone. “I’m at your mercy, dove. Don’t say please with me. Okay?”

you find remus’ number on an abandoned motorbike. things snowball from there. [10k words]

fem!reader, fluff, first date, smut mdni, implied inexperienced!reader, almost rockstar!remus, mentioned that remus takes painkillers, muggle!au, early 2000’s au

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ There’s a motorbike outside of the cafe.

It’s huge. Too heavy for you to move. Technically, you hadn’t found it at all, it was left there in the dead of night a few days ago and hasn’t budged since. It’s illegally parked, a fact that your manager won't stop muttering about while she’s elbow deep in latte foam and coffee cakes.

“I’m getting the bastard thing towed,” she grumbles that morning. “Let the police deal with it.”

That seems rather harsh to you. It isn’t necessarily in the way, and it looks well loved. Perhaps whoever left it can’t remember where they left it, having stumbled home on inebriated footing after one too many at the pub across the street. You think about how much it must cost to get your stuff back after it’s been towed, and though you aren’t sure of the specifics, you know it can’t be cheap. So, when your manager falls into conversation with a regular and your break begins, you creep outside to do some investigating.

It’s a hulking thing made of more black than silver. There are stickers across the left side of the body, weathered and peeling, though one is newer than the others and immediately draws your eye.

A phone number.

If lost, please call.

You take your phone out of your pocket, a flip phone with one dangling charm in the shape of a star. You click each faded button slowly. You're scared to talk to someone you don’t know, but relieved to maybe save the day.

It goes for ages.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you say, dropping your voice into its sweetest tones, though nerves make you too soft, and you worry you’re hard to hear. “Hey, um, sorry to bother you. I work at The Mill, it’s a– a cafe in the city centre… Are you missing a bike, by any chance? A motorbike?”

“Oh, thank you. Yeah, it’s my friend’s. He can be… forgetful.” The voice that speaks is both smooth and gritty, impossibly, like whoever it is that’s talking smoked half a pack of cigarettes before he answered the phone. He clears his throat. “I hope it hasn’t been an imposition for you.”

“Actually, uh, my manager wants to have it towed. Like, now. I can try to fend her off but honestly she’s like, that physics law, um, unstoppable force? Uh,” —you’re stuttering, making it worse, because his voice is surprisingly handsome and you’re an idiot through and through— “yeah, so could you come and get it?”

“Yes! Yeah, absolutely, we’re on our way. Thank you.”

“Sure. Of course.”

You hear something not meant for you, the tail end of, “Sirius, get up. You better call Marl and—”

Phone back in your pocket, you take a quick glance around the street before reaching out to run your finger over the cracked leather of the motorbike seat. You’ve never ridden one before. You’ve never wanted to. The level of fearlessness one needs for it isn’t one you possess.

You’re the opposite of fearless.

The sun hides behind a wave of clouds. Your skin chills near immediately, your prim slacks and apron a worthless defence against the cold. It’s an average day here, grey and quiet. Occasionally a couple will pass you, hand in hand as they traverse the worn pavement. You smile at an elderly man and his dog as they shuffle across the street and into the cafe. Your smile fades as you tune into the fierce tones of your manager, demanding to know where you’ve gone. If your absence is what distracts her from calling the police, so be it.

You’re considering getting your phone back out to play Snake when a passing car slows beside you. You straighten up and out, feeling your spine click in more places than it should as the passenger door opens and an insanely attractive man throws himself out of it.

“My angel!” he cries, heading straight for you.

You take a panicked step backward. The man dives for his motorbike. You flinch, mystified by his enthusiasm and his opposite appearance. Short sleeves reveal arms full of dark tattoos, with one side marred by a brutally long scar from his elbow to the back of a ring-laden hand. You tear your eyes from him as a second door closes across the street, and feel all the air rush from your chest as a second man approaches.

He’s very pretty. It might be redundant to say it to yourself, presented as you are with an undeniable truth, but you think it anyway. Sandy brown hair, pale skin, and in enough layers to make up for his friends lack thereof, the second man ignores any dramatics and meets you head on.

“Hi,” he says, holding out his hand, “you’re the one who called?”

Closer now, you can see the scars on his face. They stretch over the ridge of his nose and into his eyebrow. A smaller one tugs as he talks against his top lip.

You take his hand and shake it limply. “Yeah, that was me.”

If he’s concerned with your nervousness he doesn’t show it. His smile doesn’t move. “He wants to say thank you. He will, once he gets over himself.”

“Thank you!” the dark-haired man calls. “She’s my everything. I’ve been sick with worry.”

“Have you?” the man in front of you asks, his voice steady, almost intimidating in its impassiveness.

“Yes, Moons, I have been… not that you’d know.”

“Some of us have real problems,” Moons snips, though he quickly looks at you like he’s embarrassed. “Sorry. He brings out the worst in me.”

“You must be good friends.”

You don’t know why you say it. He only smiles.

“We must be.”

The first man stands up from checking over his motorbike and beams at you. You suspect it’s an expression that works in his favour more often than not. “What can I give you, doll?”

“No, nothing. Please. I’ll just be glad to hear the end of it.”

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, really."

Your manager calls your name, clear as day despite the thick pane of glass and brick walls separating you.

"That's you?" Moons asks.

"That's me. Sorry."

"No, don't be. Thanks so much for calling."

You nod hurriedly, throwing them both a 'nice to meet you, I'm sorry for leaving so fast' kind of smile and head back inside.

You take a sneaky look back when you're behind the counter again. They’ve turned their backs to you, Moons' friend ruffling his hair roughly. After a minute or two, Moons gets back in his car, and the motorbike pulls away like it was never there to begin with.

What sort of name is Moons? you ask yourself. It's a question that stays with you for a few days. You find yourself hoping you'll see him again, or that his friend's motorbike will turn up outside of the cafe for a few long days and give you an excuse to call him. His number stays unsaved in your recent calls menu for a while. Eventually, you forget about him altogether; the motorbike, the call, the gentle wave of his hair.

You're hard-pressed to forget his voice, though. There'd been something familiar about it.

"Nice highscore."

You jump hard and wince as the metallic taste of blood hits your taste buds. To make it worse, you slam your phone up into the counter it was hiding under in shock. It makes a fatal crunching sound.

You shove it into your pocket and look up. Standing there, in all his handsome weariness, is Moons, sans friend. He's wearing nice clothes, clean and clearly ironed. You're immediately aware of your ratty uniform and your unkempt hair.

"Shit," you say, which is so fucking embarrassing, honestly, you could fall through the floor and stay there, "Sorry. What can I get you?"

His eyebrows inch up his forehead. "What's the easiest thing to make?"

That's not a question you get often. "Uh, regular black coffee, or tea, or, the uh– the hot chocolate's not that hard. But you should order whatever you like, of course."

Moons smiles at you. You're starting to understand the nickname (assuming it is a nickname). He has this odd but enticing presence about him, like that awestruck feeling of looking up at night and seeing all the teeny tiny stars and the moonlight that comes down with them, bright and somewhat daunting.

"Sure you don't mind?"

"I'm paid not to mind."

"Can I get the biggest cup of tea you can make? Milk and two sugars, please."

"Absolutely." You sidestep to the register and click a bunch of the wrong buttons. You're unprofessionally flustered. "Uh, three sixty five?"

He passes you a five pound note. Your tip cup is for the more generous type, and he has no trouble dropping his palmful of change into it. He barely looks. You're expecting him to take a seat but he stays standing, one arm pressed to the counter, the other held up. He scratches behind his ear absentmindedly, as though he has nowhere else to be.

"Are you in a hurry?" you ask, confused.

He stays quiet for enough time to shit you up. You're tipping milk over your hand and hoping he hasn't seen it when he says, "No rush. I'm here to see you."

You look over your shoulder at him. You can't help it. "To see me."

"Yeah."

You spin back to his tea. The counter is covered in spills and sugar, cup tops and wooden stirrers. You take them all in with wide eyes. Nobody ever comes to see you. Not your friends, not family (unless they want something). Especially not boys you met once for two minutes.

"Is there something wrong?" you ask.

You clip the lid onto his big tea and wrap it in napkins so it doesn't burn his hands.

"Nothing's wrong," he says kindly. "I wanted to apologise. Your boss was upset with you. It was Sirius' fault. We owe you for it."

"You really don't have to say sorry. She wasn’t that mad. No harm, no foul."

You put his cup of tea down in front of him and try to smile like girls do in the movies. Soft doe eyes, not too bright, not too awkward. You give up after a second and feel it twist into something regrettable.

His long silence makes you squirm.

"A thank you, then.”

He offers you an envelope. You take it.

The paper is crisp and thick. Your fingers are clumsy, and it takes you too many seconds to fold the envelope's lip and pull out the card stock inside.

You look up in shock. "I can't–"

He's not there. You look to the door, catching what might've been his hand as he walks out of view.

He's left you two concert tickets. You don't go to concerts. You might have, when you were younger, and had friends to follow. As it stands he's given you two seated tickets for a show in the Pointer Arena not far from where you work, for a band you've never heard of. The price on each is a solid £20, which is way too much repayment for ringing a number from a sticker. Worse, you're not sure you have somebody who can use the second one.

You hope he'll come back for clarification alone, and a little to see him, but he doesn't, and soon the date on the ticket matches the date on your calendar and you're standing outside of the venue with no clue how to hold yourself.

You stand in line for a while. It's a very long line made up of mostly younger women. You listen for the calling of a reseller and spot a group of young girls trying to haggle with them, reluctantly leaving your place in line.

"Hi," you say quietly to the one furthest from the epicentre. "I'm sorry if this is weird. I have an extra ticket tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like it? I know it's seated, but maybe you could use it to get in and then, uh, not sit? Or just sit." You could writhe around on the ground in shame. You hold out the spare ticket. "If you want it."

"Are you kidding?"

"No, seriously."

She takes the ticket and you walk away before she can try and give it back to you. Whether she uses it or not, it's no longer your problem to deal with. The lady who'd been standing behind you lets you back in line, for which you're extremely grateful, and you shiver your way to the front with nerves churning your stomach.

You've imagined being turned away twenty times by the time they usher you through the doors. The air is buzzing with excitement, enough of it to ramp up your nerves, and you smile weakly at the people who pass you on the way up to the seating area you've been designated. The Pointer Arena is a smaller venue with much more standing than seating capacity available. The seats are at the sides and back of the second floor, looking down at the pit with a safety barrier in front.

You slide into your seat and peer down at the crowd as it fills up one ant of a person at a time. You can't distinguish one person from another after a while. It’s a moving sea of dark clothes.

It takes a long time for the opening act to come on. You're not having much fun. You'd tried to use the computer in the cafe to research the bands playing tonight but the dial up hadn't been working and your manager hates when you take long breaks, so you aren't sure you'll even enjoy yourself. You're not sure why you came here — is it sad, to come here alone? It looks sad, you think, pathetic, but it doesn't feel sad. You're not very good at talking, anyways. It's so difficult. Or maybe you just make it that way.

This is why you regret coming. Any time spent by yourself is time to think. You hate thinking, but it's all you seem to be able to do. Think and think and think. Your mind runs in the same circles. Things you've done, things you wish you did, things you want to do so badly it makes you feel sick. You can't stand it.

The crowd begins to rise in volume. Cheers echo against the atrium ceiling, and you push yourself to the edge of your seat to see what's making them all so excited.

The opening band. They're too far away to see clearly. First on stage is a man with brown skin and a head of black curls, a guitar swinging from his neck, the body barely held as he waves to the masses. Next comes a paler man with hair tied up in a bun who sits down behind the drum kit and doesn't move much after that. A girl practically sprints to centre stage, scooping up a waiting guitar (or bass?) and strumming down the body appreciatively. She has purple hair, bright and choppy, particularly abrasive against the alabaster white of her skin.

And last on stage… last on stage is Moons.

You move forward suddenly, smacking your face against the plexiglass barrier and biting your cheek for the second time in a week. Used to your mistreatment, the poorly healed skin wastes no time splitting, and the metallic taste of blood makes you cringe.

That's Moons. There are two huge screens either side of the stage that magnify him. First his hand on the microphone, a scar coiling up from his wrist to his thumb purple against his skin. Then his face. You wouldn't forget what he looks like so soon, not when you've half obsessed over him for days with could-be's because he'd wanted to see you and you have a bad habit of inventing future's with people you don't know, but even if you did it wouldn't matter. You've never met anyone else with three scars as he has across his face, taking centre stage.

You hadn't realised the tickets were to see his band. It makes sense, now, why your seat is in such a quiet area, and why the people sitting close by aren't firecracker happy at the sight of them. They must've received their tickets in the same way, gifts or thank yous for small favours.

Your mouth dries as they begin to play. It's not what you're expecting. Of course, you haven't really had time to expect anything, and yet you're shocked when they start to play a slow song. He doesn't really look like a rockstar, but a heartthrob? You can see it easily. The long lengths of his lashes, and the dark honey of his eyes. His smile, so small but somehow piercing.

His voice is careful. He doesn't sing anything impressive —there's no belting or high notes— but you still find yourself wringing your hands together, entranced by his confidence. He dances around the melodies and fills up every space he can find between the beat of the drums and the searing guitar riffs that follow.

They only play five songs. By the time they've finished you're feeling sick to your stomach, and you can't get your heart to calm down. You hadn't known a word of the lyrics, but you'd felt them.

They're good.

Like, too good to be openers for long.

The crowd echoes your sentiment. They clap and scream and wolf whistle. The noise vibrates in the depth of your stomach. The cheering doubles when the headlining band’s techies emerge. The lights go down. Equipment begins to roll out.

You scrounge through your purse for a lip balm and think about heading downstairs to the concession stands for an overpriced bottle of water to wash away the unfortunate tang of blood. It aches to pay, but if you don't soon you might get nauseous, and that would be a real disaster, throwing up here of all places.

You hear his voice before you see him. He's laughing, talking to somebody about the set.

"It was great!" compliments a feminine voice. "I don't know what you were so worried about, Remus, you're really great. And if you weren't, Marl would've saved the day anyways with her gorgeous showmanship."

"Thanks, baby," says a second voice. Marl.

"Thanks, Mary," Moons says.

What had Mary called him? Remus? Odd, not quite as strange as Moons.

You try not to tense as footsteps approach.

"Can I sit?" he asks.

You look up too fast. He's a little damp, the hair closest to his face curled with it, but he smells good as he sits down. He must've washed up.

"I– I've been calling you Moons in my head," you admit, not sure what to say.

He's intimidating. You don't imagine he knows it. He sits in the chair without any fanfare, setting his forearm on the rest between your two seats and turning his face to you completely, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, almost like he doesn't want to smile but can't help himself. His eyes are the slightest bit lidded, emphasising the brilliance (and unfairness) of his lashes, so thick and dark you wonder if he's wearing makeup.

"You can call me whatever you want to, but my name's Remus. I should've told you that before. I was… distracted."

He isn't being coy, you realise. He easily could be if he wanted to, but he was genuinely lost for words for a second.

"I didn't really tell you mine," you say, hoping to ease his gentle confusion.

He says your name like it's easy. Like he enjoys the sound of it. "Y/N. Do you like music?"

Is that a trick question? His eyes trace up to your eyebrows as they pinch together, but he doesn't amend his question. Not a trick, then.

"I like music,” you say.

"I realise it's brave to ask someone to come and see you on stage. And that I look like a tosser sometimes with the stage lights and makeup."

"No," you say quickly, "you don't. You looked just fine. You looked good. I bet it's hard getting on stage like that, and in front of this many people. And singing. You have a really nice voice."

His eyes soften. "Thank you. Do you wanna go get a drink with me? There's a bar. It's quiet."

Your elbow brushes against his long sleeve. "Yeah." You're not breathless enough to embarrass yourself, but it's a close call.

Remus leads you up and out of the seats. The venue is large in that it has just as many hallways and back rooms as it has places to watch the show. Remus’ warm hand catches your elbow, a friendly touch that guides you around the barrier and through a dimly lit hallway that takes you to the bar.

The bar overlooks the stage, but the sound of the band and the crowd is dampened severely, making for a sorely needed respite. VIP's mill around the room on plush leather sofas and cushy bar stools sipping from sweating glass bottles. Remus' hand moves up to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as a familiar face waves you over.

"Hey, it's you!"

You smile at Remus' motorbike friend. You're a hundred percent sure his name is Sirius, but you won't say it aloud in case you're wrong. Beside him sits the other man you'd seen on stage with them, the guitarist with brown skin and a head full of thick hair. You look between the three of them in secret shock, wondering if handsome attracts handsome or if it's just dumb luck that they ended up together.

"James, this is the babe that found Stacia," Sirius says.

James wrinkles his nose. "Hi," he says, in a voice that sounds deeply apologetic, years of it like the rings of a tree. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Um, and you?"

"I'm good! Thanks, I'm good, it's nice of you to come see us. Did you like the show?"

"Yeah, I did. I had no idea you guys were musicians."

He splits his attention between you and his jacket. He pulls a glasses case out of his pocket, clicks it open, and straightens out a pair of wire frames.

"Couldn't tell from our baby boy's general demeanour?" he asks. "Hey, that's better, I can see you now."

"Sirius is the youngest," Remus says.

"And the handsomest."

"No, Marl's clearly the handsome one," James says lightly.

Sirius takes the rebuttal in good jest and brandishes his drink toward you like a toast. "Want a beer?"

"I'm getting her one," Remus says, "come on, give me a minute here."

Everybody laughs. You laugh too, turning your face into your shoulder to smother the sound.

"Well, come and sit with us, make yourself comfortable," James says, moving his jacket off of the chair in front of you.

Remus makes a small, apprehensive sound. "Drinks first." He looks to you for confirmation. "Yeah. We'll be back."

You follow him to the bar. Your shoes, a pair of dirty converse you wish you'd swapped for heels or something sophisticated, squeal against the hardwood floor. How were you supposed to know you'd see him again tonight? In what world does stuff like this happen to scruffy waitresses? You're starting to think he might be somebody.

Not that it matters if he is or isn't.

But if he is… This is embarrassing, right? Not knowing who he is.

There must be a couple thousand people here tonight. Then again, his band were the opening act, so it doesn't necessarily mean they're all famous or anything.

"Hey," Remus says softly, stopping your thoughts cold. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Sorry. I've never been in here before, anywhere that's like it,” you say.

"Venues are all different but the bars don't change," he says. "What do you like?"

"I'm not a big drinker."

"That's okay. I just wanted an excuse to be alone with you." He doesn't even give you time to recover. "Truth is, I wanted to ask you out. But between shows I couldn't find time, and next week I'm in San Marino."

What you mean to say is, you wanted to ask me out? But instead, you choke, "You're going to Italy?"

Remus pushes a seat out for you, helping you up with a solid hand, and, while your fingers are still warm from his touch, he says, "San Marino isn't Italy. I didn't know that 'til a few months ago. But pretty much."

"What's in San Marino?"

"A wedding." He climbs into the seat next to you, smiling.

The tan colour of his long-sleeves contrasts his pale hands. Your eyes flash to his ring finger. Not his wedding.

Remus isn’t easy to talk to. It's not wholly his fault. He doesn't force conversation, leaving you awkwardly searching for something to say. You're not the best conversationalist either. He clearly doesn't mind it.

You're in the midst of a clumsy retelling of a shitty customer service moment when he tips his head to the left just a touch.

"Maybe we can go on an actual date when I'm home,” he says.

He says it like he's talking about the weather. You'd be worried he was messing with you, but then he smiles again, flicking his index finger against your wrist mildly. "You don't have to answer me now. Finish telling your story."

"It was pretty much finished. And– and I'd like to. Go on a real date. I've never been out of the country, so you'll have to forgive me if I want to know everything about San Marino."

He looks at your lips. Says, "Good," and doesn't give any indication that he's noticed how nervous you are. That is, until he covers your trembling hand with his and presses it flat to the bar.

"You're really pretty," he murmurs. He takes a moment, and he smiles. "Come with me? If I don't give Sirius some attention soon he'll start showing off."

—

James is starting to wonder if he should invite you to San Marino. He's not that stupid; it would be a huge pain if you were standing in the middle of all his wedding photos and you and Remus don't work out. But, while he's certainly and majorly jumping the gun, he has a suspicion he’ll be seeing you again.

James has never seen Remus like this before.

His friend is usually quiet, quipping every now and then perhaps at Sirius' insufferable antagonism but otherwise brooding. He hasn't seen him smile this much, ever.

James is under no illusions — he knows Remus loves him very much. He knows Remus is happy, and not always healthy but managing. He knows Remus is pleased with their lives and ecstatic to have their music take off. But he also knows Remus won't let himself have a good thing, not really. Maybe that's why he's asked you out now, when in a week they'll be in San Marino, and a week after that they'll be in Cardiff to officially start the new tour.

He knows Remus, sweetheart, kind hearted, miraculous Remus, tends to let people down. He's a stickler for asking people out and cancelling the day before. It's how it always goes. James will ask how the date went and Remus will shake his head and say, "it didn’t work out."

He knows Remus doesn't mean to hurt anybody. He just… can't get close.

But he's trying, with you. A glass of cordial in one hand, the other behind your chair, Remus tells you one of his more embarrassing stories about how he'd taken a bad fall and ended up in A&E with half of an eyebrow. He doesn't mention the painkillers that made him woozy.

You've relaxed considerably since sitting down. James would be happy to report that you're having a good time. You have your own drink in hand, and your eyes are bright, with a receding space between your face and Remus' as the story goes on. It's like watching two magnets fight to hold themselves apart.

Matter of time, James thinks to himself smugly.

—

Honesty is important. You admit to yourself that you and Remus aren't exactly a perfect match. Both quiet, both not quite social butterflies, your conversations had occasionally been stilted and slow, but you've only met twice. Things don't have to be perfect, and more than that — there's a spark there. A twinge of a possibility. He'd liked what little he knew about you enough to ask to see you again, and you'd like what little you knew about him in turn to say yes.

It doesn't have to be perfect, you insist to yourself, a bundle of nerves. Nothing does.

He looks pretty perfect. Base of his palm pressed to the brick wall of the cafe, hand angled down as his fingers grasp the neck of a bouquet whose flowers have been shedding petals onto the damp pavement below. He holds his other hand against his chest, clicking buttons on his phone.

You approach from the left and watch him play a game of Snake.

"You play Snake?" you ask.

"Doesn't everybody?" he asks back, his smile softening what might otherwise feel like a chastisement. He doesn't look up from his phone.

"Woah, how long have you been out here?" you ask, eyeing his weirdly long snake.

Remus guides the snake into a wall on purpose. It dies, his high score flashes across the screen, and he aims an apologetic look your way. "Sorry, that was rude." He doesn't try to hide that he's looking over your face. "Thanks for coming."

He leans in and kisses your cheek. Delighted warmth curls in your stomach, worse when he passes you the bouquet of flowers. They've mostly survived his poor treatment, and there's a lot of them. He's left the price tag on and you're not sure if he's noticed. You pretend not to see it.

"Thank you…” You look away from the flowers, all whites and reds and baby’s breath, to ogle him as subtly as you can manage. “Wow, you've caught the sun. Was it lovely in San Marino?"

"I'll tell you all about it over dinner,” he says. “I thought we'd walk, it's not far." He holds out his hand. You wipe your palm against your side before you take it, worried you'll have clammy hands. He must guess, because he says, "Don't be nervous."

"I am," you say hopelessly. "I've never been on a date before."

"This is your first date?"

You feel a hot flush coming on. "I– yeah. That's embarrassing, I shouldn't have told you that."

"No, it's a good thing. Now I know it has to be extra special."

"It doesn't," you say.

"I was hoping it would be." He pulls you down the pavement and further into the city centre toward the main high street. "San Marino. It was beautiful, and I took a couple of photos but I didn't have room on my phone. Well, I could've deleted Snake–"

"Why would you?" you joke, grinning.

He laughs, and squeezes your hand slightly. "Exactly. I have priorities. It's a long flight, and looking over the photos can only take up so much time. No, but it really was… it was beautiful. I'd never given much thought to a destination wedding. They make sense, right? It's the best day of your life, why would you have it here?"

He tilts his chin toward the grey sky. You look up with him, feeling the cold wind kiss the sides of your face and pull through your hair.

"Come on, Remus, it's not that bad. If it's sun you're after, you could just wait for British summer time. You know, the whole three days of it."

He laughs — you've made him laugh twice already. This is going okay. Laughing while looking at one another, a bouquet in one hand and his hand in the other, you feel that curl of delight begin to bloom. It fills your insides up, has you smiling until your eyelashes brush in the corners.

"It was James' wedding. Do you remember which one that was?"

He asks so kindly. You don't doubt for a second that he wouldn't care if you forgot. It's refreshing, even if it's something you'd expect.

"I remember. I didn't realise he was getting married."

"Don't ever say that in front of him, he'll put himself on the cross." He swings your hand as you turn a corner. The Italian restaurant you'd agreed on winks from a distance.

"He's devoted," you guess.

"He's insane. He was worse when we were younger. His girlfriend– his wife," he amends, "Lily, she's really something else. Warm and funny, but she's been keeping him on his toes for years. She has family in San Marino, hence the wedding."

You listen to him talk eagerly. His voice is as handsome as his face, and the more he says the less stilted he becomes. There had been a strained quality to it before (strained, or restrained? something he wasn't saying) that's all but disappeared.

"It was like a movie. White linen, sand, crying."

"Did you cry?" you ask, expecting a puffed up chest.

"So much. Too much, maybe. I was half of the best man."

"Half?"

"We had to share, me and Sirius. They've always been…" Remus slows his steps. "Am I being boring? I'm talking too much about me."

"We have time. I want to hear it. I'd like to hear it," you say.

James and Sirius are brothers. Remus sees your surprised look and doesn't condemn you for it. Sirius is unofficially adopted. The Potter's fostered him from ages thirteen until he aged out, and though they tried to adopt him, Sirius was reluctant. Remus doesn't get into the reasons beyond that, and you don't ask. You suspect he's only telling you about it to drive home how much the Potter's love Sirius. How much James does.

Remus had been Sirius' friend from their very first year of comprehensive school. Sirius moved in with the Potter's, and, adoring as they were, they let him have friends over whenever he liked. James, Sirius, and Remus spent the next decade together like that, hiding in Sirius' room. Best friends, entirely inseparable, and all fiercely protective of each other.

"They've always been like brothers."

"But not…"

He understands what you're worried to say. "I think it would've been weird… I had a candle burning for James. For a long time."

Your jaw drops a little. "And you just had to watch him have the most romantic wedding ever," you whisper sympathetically. You're joking: it's clear the candle isn't burning now.

"Told you I cried," he says. "No, but you've seen him. He's a supermodel. It's awful."

"Remus, I think you might be underestimating how handsome you are," you say. You bite your lip and look at his chin rather than his eyes.

He's generous. He gives your wrist a tug and chuckles warmly. "I'm glad you think so. Tonight might have been awkward, otherwise."

You duck together inside of the restaurant, hands falling apart as Remus gives his last name for the reservation. Lupin. Your face has a mind of its own.

"Charming, isn't it?"

"It is," you say emphatically, denying his sarcasm. "I've never heard anything like that. Lupine, like a fox?"

"Wolf."

A server shows you to your table and hands you two leather covered menus. Leather, not plastic, a sign that tonight is going to be classy. You've dressed for the occasion in a smart blouse and slacks, too terrified of wearing a dress. Remus seems to have done the same as you, reaching for smart but dodging the mark in a button down and a casual jacket. When he takes off his coat, he looks perfect. He fits right in.

"Could we get a glass?" he asks the server. "For the flowers? If it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all."

You run your hand across the silken tablecloth and the space between you both feels somehow smaller than when you'd been holding hands. Outside, you could let your gaze drift to the pavement, the fenced in trees, the couples that passed you by. Here, you're forced to watch one another.

It's not so bad. It's agonising.

"This is weird," you say. You flinch when you hear yourself. "Sorry, not that you're weird! I'm weird. I've never ever done this."

"No, I know," he says, almost murmuring, "it's okay."

"I just blurted out what I was thinking–"

"I know." He sits back in his chair. His head tilts down, his eyelashes kissing the skin above his brows as he fixes you with a look. It has the intended effect, tension easing from your rigid spine and tight shoulders. "This is weird. But it's still early. It could get weirder."

You like that he says it as if it's a good thing.

You order the same thing he does, and you don't turn down his offer to get a bottle of wine, though it feels too grown up. You keep forgetting you're an adult, and that your life isn't on hold. Things can happen to you at any time.

"I want to address the elephant in the room," he says.

Not promising. "Okay."

"Are we having dessert?" Remus leans forward on both forearms. Hair falls in his eyes. He's dressed nicely and he's handsome but there's something homespun about him, something golden. You can't help looking at him and thinking impossibly forward thoughts, cheesy waffle from the films. He's familiar. "Nobody ever wants to get dessert with me. It's actually a real issue for me."

"I'll get dessert with you." A smoother you with more confidence, who wore the dress and asked him to go to the Thai restaurant instead, would've said something more suave. We're having whatever you want, handsome.

Remus flips the menu to the very last page and reads the desserts aloud. For himself, it seems, half-muttered and apprehensive. "Chocolate cake from places like this will either be the nicest thing we've ever eaten or burnt in the microwave. And it's childish that I want chocolate cake. I should be spoon feeding you creme brulee. Or whipped cream and strawberries."

He tips his head back and rubs his eyes. It's a charade of feigned self loathing that makes you laugh.

"I'm a child," he laments, thumb and index finger pressed into his eyes. He checks to see if you're watching before doubling down.

"I like cake," you say, and you'd lie if you thought it was what he wanted to hear. Handsome, kind, and funny. Not to mention talented. He needs smart for the sweep.

Remus falls out of his dramatics. You mourn the loss, beggy a good look on him, but forget all about it when he slides his chair around the table to share the menu with you, your heads inclined as you read it together again. He smells woody. You hope he likes the jasmine of your perfume.

"It all sounds really nice," you confide, afraid to disturb the comfortable hush. "I haven't had gelato since I was a kid. Oh, did they have real gelato in San Marino?"

“They had a lot of stuff in San Marino… I want to hear about you.”

“What do you want to hear?”

The questions start and don’t stop. Where did you grow up? That’s the easy part. What did you study in school? Were you in sports? The art club? And what do you do now, when you aren’t working in the cafe? The more he asks, the easier it is to answer. He doesn’t slow when the waiter brings a glass for your bouquet, simply stands and places them inside with exceedingly gentle hands, smiling at you from between the stems. You eat slowly when the food arrives — you're busy talking.

It feels fucking amazing. To have someone want to know anything about you. And unless he’s an actor of the highest regard, he’s obviously enjoying your conversations, though they wilt and wane and wind around one another. You lose track of time and thread as the night goes on, distracted by the near unnoticeable asymmetry of his smile, and the way he laughs when you laugh, like an echo.

You get cake like he wanted. Triple fudge cake with buttercream thick but melting from the heat. It looks straight from the pages of a magazine, glossy and dusted with sugar powder, but he doesn’t seem to like it. He takes a couple of bites and leaves it alone. You don’t want to look greedy, so you do the same.

The date is suddenly over.

“Could I walk you home?” he asks, when you’ve both put your coats back on, and the damp roots of your flowers are leaving an imprint on your chest.

You nod rather than answer.

Things are good, not perfect. That’s what you keep thinking. There’s something he isn’t saying. Or, horrifyingly, something he doesn’t like about you. Still, the sky is velvet black and the air is crisp. Stars like needlepoints dot the air. Street lights work to hide them, casting a warm yellow glow over the pavements and your meandering shoes.

A brisk wind whips past you. You shiver and press your lips together hard, hands quick to rigidity. Remus looks at you sideways, and breaks the quiet. “Are you cold?”

“A little.” No point in lying when he can see you trembling.

“Do you want my coat?”

“No, no, it’s alright–“ You cut off as he steps in front of you, his hand vying for yours.

He tucks the flowers under his arm and sandwiches your fingers between his. He has short fingernails, and another scar down one pinky finger. How’d you get that one? you want to ask. How’d you get any of them?

His breath clouds the air. “I should’ve thought about the cold.”

“This is better,” you say. Than a warm taxi home. His thumbs brushing down the backs of your hands.

You walk to your flat building and hesitate at the foyer door. The potential for a kiss goodnight has flayed your thoughts. The image of his hands climbing your arms, holding you still, plays like a flickering film. You have no idea if he’s going to do it.

“How will you get home?” you ask quietly.

“I parked by the cafe, it isn’t far.”

“Oh…” The lights from your building paint him the faintest shade of pink. Your breath fogs out in front of you, as does his, and the warmth of walking will soon fade. “I–“

“Here,” he says, handing you the flowers again.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“Fits the recipient.”

It takes a second for you to get it. Oh, you think. You can hardly feel the cold now. Your heart hurts, and you’re begging him to want to take a step toward you. The silence goes for too long.

“I– I’d love to see you again,” you say. Love comes out funny. Maybe because you can feel his rejection coming.

“I won’t be here next week. Not for a long time. We’re touring properly, now.” He scratches the side of his face.

“Right. Right, of course you are. Um, good luck with that. And thank you for tonight, for dinner.” You wave your flowers weakly.

He looks at you. He takes a half step toward you. You can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“You really are pretty,” he says finally. “Goodnight.”

He smiles quick and turns quicker. You watch him walk a few steps but ultimately can’t face it, pushing into the foyer of your building with a hardset frown. Your hands shake, minute abstractions of the sharp rejection panging in your chest. Your ears roar and then go quiet. What did I do wrong? you think, shocked and upset and trying to rationalise. He doesn’t have to kiss you. He asked you out on a maybe, and now whatever question he had is answered.

The door creaks open. You spin on your heel, too wrapped up to think about hiding your expression. Remus stands in the doorway of the porch, his arm pressed to the glass panel, the other held out to you.

"Come here," he says quietly. It isn't a question, but he's asking.

You step into his reach, letting him pull you by the waist against his chest. He leans down until his nose glances against ýours, and he starts to say something. You push your chin up in your eagerness and he doesn't try again. He kisses you, once, contrite, and he pulls back and his hand clasps your arm tight as he ducks in for another. His lips are fast to lose the cold of the weather, but his tongue is a hot shock at the seam of your own.

You go weak in his arms. The flowers between you crunch and smother themselves. You can’t think about it. Your hands are numb. He takes over every one of your senses until you’re more kiss than thought, reciprocating his slow, deep searching. You run out of breath.

He eases you backward, cupping the side of your head in his big palm.

“I want to see you again,” he says hoarsely. “But I– I don’t know when I’ll be back.” His hand adjusts against your cheek, like he’s worried you’re slipping out of his hold. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I can wait,” you say.

“I couldn’t ask you to.”

You rub your buzzing lips together, each heaven of your chest marked by the crinkling sound of cellophane.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” you ask.

He strokes the edge of your mouth with his thumb. “Are you sure?”

You kiss him. You don’t know if this will work, any of it, the broad stroke or this one night, but you want him.

—

Remus doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows how to fuck somebody, that isn’t the problem. He doesn’t know what he’s doing with you. The same thing that made him walk away had pulled him right back in, had him skipping steps on the staircase up to your flat, drinking in the back of your head and roll of your shoulders as you’d made apologies for the mess inside.

He doesn’t feel like himself when he’s with you. He thinks of it like this — what he is, his pain, his wants, that’s all set in stone. Any change is an erosion, and little by little over the years he’s managed to whittle himself down into the smallest, cleanest version of himself. Then suddenly the band’s making money, people are listening to his voice on the radio in countries all over the world, and he can’t hide anymore. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to, after all. What else inspires a performer into the spotlight? The music, he thinks desperately, knowing it’s half a lie.

Isn’t it why he’d asked you to the show? Come and watch me sing. See me at my most impressive. My most curated.

And now he’s following you into your bedroom after one date, about to strip it all away.

“You didn’t have too much wine, did you?” he asks. You hadn’t really finished your first glass, but it won’t hurt to make sure.

You peel your jacket off and drop it over the back of a wide armchair. “I don’t think so. Did you?”

“No.” His head has never been this clear.

He thinks about what you said. This is your first date, and he’s not clueless enough to assume that never going on a date means never having sex, but he wants to be careful with you anyway. He wants this to last beyond a dinner date.

Which means he has to get out of his head.

Beyond all of his own mess, he really does think you're pretty. More than pretty. You’re beautiful, and your voice…

He wants to see what other sounds you make.

Remus gets his hands on you. Soft touches, his hands coasting from your elbows to your warming hands. He squeezes your fingers, leaning in for a quick kiss. He rests his nose against the skin beneath your eye. “Tell me if it’s too much?” he asks, a murmur of hot air.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go slowly.”

“Okay.” Your voice is barely audible.

He pulls away to make sure you’re alright, and is surprised to see a glassy sheen in your eyes. He holds your face in both hands and works your lips open against his, guiding you backwards into the plush of your poorly made bed. He’s all sweet touches and eager kisses, cautious not to hurt you, or let too much of his weight press against your soft torso. His kisses follow to the corner of your mouth, the tip of his nose tender against your cheek. “You’re so quiet,” he says. He isn’t complaining, but he wants to hear your voice.

“I’m a bit preoccupied.”

He laughs into your skin, kissing down to your jaw. “You’re right,” he says, revelling in the goosebumps that rise under his hands.

Your shaking inhales cleave a pit in his stomach. He mouths at the side of your neck, half-kisses, tiny warning nips before he thumbs open the first button of your shirt. He meanders, dropping a path crescent moon kisses into your front until the fabric of your bra gets in the way. The soft hill of your breast staggers to a halt beneath him. He can tell that you’re holding deliberately still.

Kisses. You need more kisses, an absolution from any lingering nervousness. Your hands thread into his hair gently, your fingers raking wavy strands behind his ears as you give in. You melt into your sheets, your legs parting from the pressure of his hips.

Your hands fall from his hair to needle between your two bodies and undo the rest of your buttons. The fabric falls aside, your chest and tummy his to catalogue. He drops his hand against your stomach, smoothing a line down to your slacks. His lips ache against yours as he asks, “Can I?”

“Please.”

He smiles at your daunted expression. “Can I take these off?” he asks you, his fingertip running under the edge of your underwear. “Please?” he teases.

Your skin is a furnace, hot hot hot everywhere he touches as you nod your permission and Remus undresses you, one piece of clothing at a time. Your trousers, your shirt. Your bra, your underwear. His fingers slip in his ardency as he tears out of his own button down.

Your thumb traces a scar.

He looks up from your chest, startled, but you aren’t giving him anything he doesn’t want. There’s no pity in your gaze, no curiosity, no sadness. Just lust, your trembling hands pulling his slacks down the lengths of his thighs.

He pulls the condom from his wallet in his pocket and lets it fall to the floor.

Remus hooks his hands under your arms and urges you back against the headboard, a pillow behind your head, your thighs tipping open as his hand runs down between them. He grabs at them greedily, handfuls of fat that have his mouth dry as a bone.

“Has anyone ever done this to you before?” he asks. He needs to know.

You squeeze your eyes closed and shake your head.

Fuck. “Hey, look at me,” he says, waiting for your eyes to meet before continuing. “I just want to make you feel good. If I don’t, you let me know.”

He waits for you to answer aloud. “I will,” you say, your hand behind his back and urging him forward. “Please.”

“What did I say?” he jokes gently, letting his weight bear down on you again.

He closes his eyes, his lips in what feels like a new home at the juncture of your neck. His hands skirt dangerously close to your heat.

He’s gentle. He rubs a sweeping line against your cunt with the front of his fingers, heart hammering fast as a mouse’s when he finds the little button of your clit. You shiver and shudder and squirm as he toys with you, your fingers steadfast against the plane of his back while he opens you up. His lips part in tandem, not nearly as kind as his hands. His teeth scratch against your throat.

Your soft moans move through him as he hickeys over your pulse, chasing each capering thud of blood. He winds you up. You’re snug around his fingers, fluttering, and he knows he’s probed something sweet when your breath catches and you whine.

“Was that alright?” he asks.

You nod, heavy headed, and lick your lips as he tears open the condom and eases it onto his cock, one measured roll at a time.

“Can you– I want you to–” You turn your face from him, the line of your jaw kissed by the lamplight outside, and the rest hidden.

He drags you down to lay flat on your back and holds himself over you, nudging his nose against yours until you lift your head. Face to face, he gives himself time to adore the shape and colour of your eyes, the side of his hand brushing along your cheek. “Do you think you’re ready?” he asks sincerely. The slickness between your legs is obvious, but he doesn’t want to blindside you. “It will feel…”

You nod, saving him the explanation. It will feel weird. Good, but foreign. “Will you kiss me again?” you ask feebly.

He can’t stop himself. He kisses your lips sore, his hand behind the crook of your knee pushing your leg up toward your stomach as he slides into the space he’s made there. He breaks the kiss to listen to your breathing as he pushes forward.

Remus hadn’t been lying — he wants it to feel good. He takes it slow, his thrusting almost languid as you get to grips with the feeling. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, struggling to smother the moan that escapes him as he feels you clench around him. You gasp, your arms tightening around his waist, destroying any semblance of space between your sweat-damp bodies as you hold him tight. He murmurs praises in your ear, his forearms tucked beneath your shoulder blades, hands gripping your shoulders a touch too hard. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to somebody, can’t remember ever feeling so maddeningly lost, like he’s one good push from hurtling over the edge.

He kisses your cheek, calling you all the things he’d been too scared to say before. “Lovely girl,” he pants, “how’s that feel?” And, when you answer, “Yeah, you’re taking it so well, dove. Think you can take a little more?”

All that nervousness and desperation shrinks down to dust, and the smiling girl he’d been with at dinner comes to the forefront. There’s no mistaking it. You giggle something awful and turn your face into his, kissing him between sounds, dizzying him with the tender scratch of your nails down his back as he starts to move.

“There she is,” he says lightly, almost smirking. “Feel good?”

“Feels– oh,” —you shiver violently, filled all the way up— “feels good.”

Remus let’s his forehead fall to your chin, his eyes closed in pleasure, his cock to the hilt. Every move he makes evokes a near sinful sound from you, mewling, silvery whimpers and pleased little laughs when he angles his hips right. He’s a mess, desperate to cum from the second you touched him and running on stolen time as he presses you deep into your mattress. One of your hands flies backward into the pillows and scrunches up into a ball, the look on your face too tempting to ignore.

The first time you fuck someone — it’s never timed right. Remus knows he hasn’t quite figured you out, but he knows enough to get you where he wants you. He slides his hand between your bodies and your soft cunt to draw circles into your clit, entranced by your twitching lashes as the pleasure builds. You chase him with your hips, and he grabs your hand at the last second to stop you from covering your mouth, holding it above your head as you come apart.

He cooes at you. The sound you make — the breathless little cry that leaves you, your hips jutting up to meet him. He’s at your mercy, just like he said.

Remus fucks into the extra tightness, drawing your climax out for as long as he can. You’re smiling as you shove his arm away, a playful chastisement that wanes when you see the look on his face. “Are you close?” you ask, brushing a curled strand of hair from his eyes.

Close? Remus is fucked.

“You can go faster,” you say, “rougher, whatever you want.”

“Shit,” he hisses, leaning back.

His rutting hips slap the backs of your thighs. He squeezes your waist, his eyes fixed on your cunt as it pulls him in. One last wavering, “Oh, fuck,” from you is all it takes for Remus to lose it. White hot pleasure tightens his whole body, his abdomen aflame. You scramble to gather him back into your arms. You kiss him, swallowing his resulting string of moans.

He has to catch his breath afterward. You comb the hair back from his face, your eyes droopy with pleasure.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, voice stringy.

“Of course not.” You’re quickly losing your confidence. Remus hates it, but he understands. This vulnerability can only stretch so far.

“Let me clean you up,” he says.

“You look like you’re gonna fall over if you stand.”

He strokes your face with the back of his ring finger, his nail ghosting along the highest point of your cheek. “Funny,” he says dryly.

He gets confused in your bathroom, and you won’t let him towel you off, but when he lies down beside you with his boxers back in place you don’t push him away. You drop your face into his chest and curl up.

He drags the quilt over your naked back.

Was that okay? he wants to ask. “Sore?” he worries instead.

“Don’t think so.”

He chews his cheek. “You’re alright?”

You stir, looking up at him through your lashes. He thinks you’re the kind of pretty people might not always see. You’re clearly beautiful, but there’s something else to it. The way you move, maybe. The way your eyes smile before your lips can catch up.

“I’m fine. I’m good… Can I…”

He hums. “What?”

“Could I kiss you again?”

You speak so quietly, he hears the vibration in your throat more than the sound of your voice. It’s endearingly timid. He feels his attraction for you flare violently.

He wants to ask you to come with him to Cardiff. He knows he can’t. It’s yards too soon, but for a second he entertains the thought.

“Wait for me to come home,” he says. He’s still asking for more than he should. “I want to see you again. You can kiss me as much as you want, if you say you’ll wait.”

You nod immediately. Not a flicker of reluctance to be seen.

You lift your chin and kiss him. He tries to make it the kind of kiss worth waiting for.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging cos it helps more than you might think <3

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

6K notes · View notes

helenazbmrskai · 6 months ago

Text

Mating Act (m)

Title [Mating Act]

Pairing [Alien! Yoongi x Human Slave! Reader]

Genre [Alien AU, Sci-fi, Smut, Angst, Fluff]

Summary [You make two choices that change your life entirely. First, you make a choice when you decide to save a family and get kidnapped instead of them, the second you make is when you force imprinting on an alien that takes one wife in his life which you decide will be only you.]

Words [5,2k]

Warnings [General warnings: slavery, bad treatment, dystopia setting, human trafficking, Sexual content: playful neck grabbing, teasing, sexual tension, first-time sex, dirty talk, manhandling, mention of human and wife a lot, alien anatomy (black ink, coldness and a very hard, big and cold dick also magic saliva), fingering, oral (f and m), unprotected sex, belly bulge, size kink, positions (cock riding, doggy, missionary), y/n cries that is how good she feels, overstimulation, buckets of cum, creampie(s), begging, blow job, possessive alien yoongi]

Rating [+18]

A/N: I’m very excited to share this with you guys since I think this would be a great successor to my previous work that many of you liked called “Mating Season” It’s kind of the same but entirely different. This story is in the same universe but it takes place before mating season!

Masterlist //

Your scrunched eyes open slowly, first, you only see a blinding light your ears focus on the cracking sound of neon. It’s cold and you’re not wearing enough clothes for the cool temperature. It takes a few seconds for your senses to return to you and then you can fixate on your surroundings, it’s outdoors and midday as you see the sun going up high in the purplish blue sky.

It seemed that by the time you were unconscious, you arrived at the slave trading planet. The light grey iron bars are cold to the touch and it’s extremely noisy out there. Different species roam the cells it might be hundreds if not thousands of cells lined up for sale, and you’re one of them: a rare find, a human.

Your introduction is displayed for the buyers in numerous languages. There are a few that you speak so you can read it with ease: female human, breedable, young. You hate how the aliens size you up some even get threateningly close until you back up. They openly talk about you thinking that you can’t understand a single thing. Humans are stupid and weak. You’re a race that is almost at extinction. Only a few of you are left and your life expectancy is around eighty years old, it’s short compared to others but all too long for you humans. You managed to survive this long which is a miracle on its own. How pathetic of you to get caught in international body trafficking because you decided to save someone. At least you hope that the family you tried to protect is safe somewhere else you don’t have anything left to protect so you accept your faith.

Deep in your thoughts, you thought you lost all faith in survival. You don’t have anything to go back to but you’re still unable to give up.

You still don’t want to die.

Your defiant gaze meets with a young male. Shorter than his friends he has bland black hair with the same eyes that almost look human. You know that he’s not one of your own though he speaks a different language with his friends and has weird marking on his skin that looks exotic in your eyes.

“Do you like her?” A man next to him stops to read your description. They almost look sorry for you as they see you behind the cell.

“No.” Black hair says without giving it a second. His eyes bore into yours and when he decides to stop looking at you you make a second split decision. You’re going to choose him. Your hands grip the bars as you get as close to him as you can. It’s been a long time since you used that language but you have to try.

“Take me.” They can clearly understand your words, you speak their language. You point at the black-haired man.

“Oh, it seems to like you Yoongi.” A friendly voice slaps him on the shoulders. They talk animatedly among each other finding you intriguing. Books say that the human race is stupid and weak but you look none of those things. His friends encourage Yoongi to get closer to you and for once you don’t step back as he approaches after a little push in your direction. His hands grab onto the bars before he can regain his posture and you use that opportunity to put your hands on his. His hand is cold to the touch the cold blue veins on his hands are in contrast to his pale white skin.

“Yoongi.” You call out the word you heard them say that you think might be his name.

“We’re running out of time. Let’s take her and leave.” A man speaks up his eyes fixated on the holo panel that shows the time and some kind of message. He has some weird-looking glass in his eyes, you think he might be the captain of the ship. You’ve seen that type of accessory somewhere before.

“I didn’t say I will buy it.” Yoongi pulls his hand away like you dirtied him. You rack your brain on how to make him take you with him. Black hair and black eyes, cool skin and vine-like black ink make you think of a race. You loved to read books this is how you taught yourself a few of those languages and you remember reading about his species once. This decision might take you closer to your end but it will be better than rotting in this place so you grab his clothes and smash your lips on his through the tiny gap between the bars.

A race that takes one wife in his lifetime. You’re going to bet on that.

Your tongue forcefully enters his mouth using his surprise against him to successfully imprint your taste on him. After his mind catches up he pushes you away so hard that you land on your butt. His eyes almost look feral as he watches you, he’s very angry but closes his eyes to push the feeling down.

“Get up.” You haul yourself up from the floor getting close to him despite his hard gaze on you. You don’t flinch when he grabs your hair and pulls you close so that your faces are inches away from each other.

“You want to come, then come.” It’s not a calm and collected sentence that he whispers so close to you. It sounds like a threat but you smile and nod. Even if he hates you he has an obligation to you. With that kiss you sealed your fate with his, you’re his. His one and only human wife for all eternity.

Your back collides with the wall behind you as soon as you see your kidnapper his torture that you had to endure is replaying in the forefront of your mind as he fiddles with the cell keys your hostility is not lost on the young men that wait for your release. Yoongi paid for you in digital cash don’t have more time to waste.

He intends to take you with him so he asks for the ownership process to be sped up.

The kidnapper yanks you out of the cell not caring about how you almost land on your face through the force he uses. Yoongi catches you easily lifting you in his arms. You forced him into accepting you but he still does his job of protecting you. His glare is not meant for you this time as he looks displeased by your idle treatment right in front of him. His big hands are curled around you in pretence protection. You must be crazy because you actually relax in his secure hold.

“Hi.” One of his friends gets your attention as he waves. He looks at you with curious eyes he seems like he has a lot of questions for you.

“Hello.” You reply in a hoarse voice. You don’t remember the last time you ate or drank something.

“What’s your name? I’m Hoseok.” He points at you and then at himself. It’s nice of him to talk slowly so you have time to interpret his words. No one else speaks to you as you go. Probably on their way to their ship since one of them implied some important business. Yoongi doesn’t look at you but his hands are firm around you.

“Y/N.”

“Your name is weird.” Hoseok slaps his friend but you don’t take it in the wrong way. Of course, for them, a human name will sound weird.

“You’re being rude Taehyung.” Hoseok scolds the other guy before he turns back to you swaying in Yoongi’s arms. “I think your name is pretty and you speak our language pretty well. How did you learn it? On Earth?”

You shake your head. If you think about your home planet your heart starts aching. “No. I taught myself reading books.”

Now his other friend looks interested in the conversation. The one who has that weird-looking glass.

“Fascinating, to find a smart human like you. I want to run some tests.” Hearing that crazy scientist talk again brings back bad memories as your face becomes uncomfortable and your relaxed figure goes rigid inside Yoongi’s arms. He could feel you tense up in fear and he reacted by holding you more firmly to his chest.

“You’re scaring her. Stop it.” This is the first thing he says after he bought you. Namjoon looks sheepish and apologises and even Hoseok reassures you that he’s just not good with words and you won’t be a lab rat at all.

You accept their apology. You think they mean well and are quite friendly to your utter surprise. They seem like good guys. You feel like it’s a good time to reveal some of your thoughts.

“Just because you read my description doesn’t mean you know anything about me. I wouldn’t reveal anything that would put me at a disadvantage. This is how I could survive until now.” The words taste sour in your mind and you think about all the things you had to do and endure just to be here. Was it worth it? This life. You have thought about it more times than you would have liked to admit.

“It must have been hard for you.” Hoseok shows you empathy and you give him a smile back in silent thanks.

“Why did you choose Yoongi?” A younger male looks at you with curious eyes. They don’t show it but this is the question they all were curious about all along. Even Yoongi perks up when he thinks you’re not looking.

“My instinct told me to trust him.” As for why, you don’t know either. You saw countless men and women walk in front of your cage but you only wanted him to buy you. The moment his eyes unknowingly lingered on you you decided to go with him. He must have felt something too. You saw him before he saw you. He never looked at anyone else but you. If you ask him he will probably deny it but you’re sure of it.

You probably looked desperate. Now that you replay your impulsive behaviour in your mind colour blooms on your cheeks in embarrassment. You learned how to kiss from a book it didn’t occur to you before but what if you were a bad kisser? You started spiralling until your surroundings faded and you locked yourself inside your head. You didn’t register when you arrived on board or when he carried you to his room.

You shiver when he puts you down on his bed. The temperature of his room is colder than you’re used to.

You panic when he tugs your clothes without a word. You grab his cold hands and look into his eyes with widened ones. He looks back at you with predatory. You once read that humans had a ceremony to be pronounced wife and husband. You never experienced it as a human but it sounded romantic.

Thinking back on what you read.

Yoongi is an alien. His species only takes one wife and their ritual is different from yours. The road to becoming his wife is simple enough.

“Look at you being surprised. As if you didn’t know what you did when you kissed me first.” You didn’t know, you just acted impulsively without thinking. You wanted to say that to him but only a gasp left your lips as he pushed you down on his large bed. He won’t listen to any of your pathetic excuses now.

“You forced my hands. Even if you don’t want it anymore you have no other choice but to be mine.” You gulp down the saliva that accumulated in your mouth, his fierce eyes pin you to the spot lying helplessly under him. His hand is so cold as he wraps it around your neck gently he can feel your heartbeat accelerate under his palm. He studies your features taking in every inch of you from head to toe. Committing everything about you to memory. Yoongi curls a few locks of your long hair around his fingers inhaling your scent his nose rubs against your pulse point. Your hands hold onto his waist digging your fingers onto his side but he doesn’t care about it as he kisses the skin on your neck.

You’re dirty and dishevelled in appearance your captor was not kind to his prisoners and you look like a shell of yourself after everything that you’ve been through. Your average beauty doesn’t matter to Yoongi. He’s going to take you regardless of how beautiful you look in other's eyes or not. The kiss already sealed your fate as his bride. Imprinting your taste on him means that he can’t escape you. While Yoongi wants to take you right then and there he realises that you need to be in a better shape to undertake the ritual. He did get a reaction rise out of you. So amusingly innocent.

“Take a shower, you reak.” You awkwardly look to the side unable to meet with his confident smirk. He likes to watch your face turn red. He pulls away from you and you take in a long-needed breath of fresh air. The coldness seeping back into your body makes you sober up and you scurry to his joined bathroom. Yoongi laughs as he sees you hide behind the door he makes sure you can operate the shower before he goes out to get some food for you. You don’t have any clothes to wear but you’re at least clean.

You find a clean cloth to wrap around your body in makeshift clothes it’s better than nothing as you need something to shield you from the cold.

Yoongi comes back before you can organize your thoughts. You could barely calm your heart as your mind kept replaying his soft lips on your neck and his body weight on you not to talk about those alluring black eyes. You could still see your reflection in them as you lock gazes. You look away when he puts the tray down in front of you full of food that you don’t know the name of. It’s not too bad once you take a bite but it’s bland the more you consume. It meets the purpose of filling you up as you no longer feel that gnawing hunger in the pit of your stomach.

You jolt up when you feel his hand pull your wet hair to the other side making his way to your neck. He takes a long whiff of air finally smelling your natural scent that was previously masked by the dirt and sweat. He takes the opportunity to cover you in his scent rubbing his nose up and down your throat.

You can’t concentrate on eating anymore.

“Eat. You will need it.” As if he could read your mind he halts all movements simply deciding on laying his head on your shoulder. You pick up more food and try to ignore how his possessive touch engulfs your body in a backhug. You remember how angry he became once you forcibly kissed him he even pushed you hard enough to lose your footing. The way he accepted you is too sudden.

“Are you going to …” Unable to say the words you stop in the middle.

“Am I going to fuck you? Yes, I will.” You gulp.

“Don’t you hate me for kissing you?” You close your eyes when Yoongi wraps his fingers around your neck again this time with more force but gentle enough that you’re not choking on air he just pulls you against his chest holding you by the neck as his nose rubs against your left cheek.

“I am angry. You selfishly decided this on your own. I bet you don’t realise half of the mess you got yourself into. I don’t hate you though. There’s something about you that caught my eye.”

It’s only a small peck on your cheek but your hands tighten around the tray. You take in a much-needed breath when you realise he doesn’t hate you. It makes you feel better knowing that it’s not entirely your imagination. He did look at you.

“I admit I don’t know much.” You sheepishly reply confirming his words. You read some things about his species but there’s no proof that everything is accurate.

“It doesn’t matter as you will be mine anyway.” His hand pulls you close his fingers splayed over your stomach. You only have a thin cloth over your naked body while Yoongi is fully clothed.

“Put down the tray.” You follow his order bending down slightly to put the tray down onto the floor. You let out a surprised yelp when his hands find your ass under the thin material, your backside is on full display for his hungry eyes. Your fingers have a deadly grip on the edge of the bed as he kneads the soft flesh.

“Your smell comes strongly from here.” His thumb parts your folds some wetness is gathered there that sticks to his finger when he pulls back. “I read a few books about you too, enough to know that this means you like the idea of me fucking you.”

Yoongi hates how he can’t see you acting coy biting your lip so he forcibly pulls you back against his chest and pulls your face to the side. You land on his lap your legs dangling on either side of his thighs. He runs his finger up and down your wetness watching your expression turn hazy and your mouth open to let out a silent moan.

“You like this don’t you? Having your human pussy touched by me.” Yoongi finds your clit quickly finding out how your moans increase in volume when he rubs circles over it. You’re gushing over his fingers.

The black ink on his arms moves to stain your body with blackness until it circles over your thigh in two pretty hoops. Your body is getting overheated as his touches devour your body. Fingers dance around your folds, your hips. The black hoops around your ankles and thighs are a reminder of what you started. You’re going to become Yoongi’s and no one can stop that from happening.

Feeling overwhelmed you reach up to kiss him and he does with a growl. He doesn’t push you away like when you stole his first kiss. No. He pulls you closer turning you around until you’re chest to chest.

Your hand rests against his shoulders your fingernails digging into his skin as you feel one of his fingers enter you without warning. Yoongi swallows your sounds with his mouth pushing his finger in and out of your pussy until your essence is running down his wrist. He adds another one and another one stretching your walls as he devours your mouth your hips moving along without you noticing. Getting into the rhythm of riding his fingers. You need to pull back to get some air in between the kisses. His hungry expression manages to steal your last remaining string of sanity. The cloth around you barely covers you anymore and Yoongi goes to remove it and leave you entirely naked before him.

His attention goes to your perky nipples both hands grabbing a handful and pepper kisses around the mound.

So far he doesn’t look strange. Not that you have any experience of what you should see in a situation like this. You conclude that your newly formed tattoos are one of the few things that are specific to his race.

His tongue is cold it makes you shiver when he sucks on one of your nipples. He’s so cold but his coolness is welcomed by your feverish body.

“Lay down.” You do as he tells you. Eagerly and shamelessly open your legs and welcome him between them. This is really happening you realise when he takes off his clothes. His pale skin is pretty and cool against you. Even his cock lined with cold blue veins is pretty and cold when he rubs it between your folds. It’s big and hard like a rock against you. Yoongi can see how you tense up after seeing his size.

“It won’t hurt if you do as I tell you.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb kissing you surprisingly sweetly.

“O-okay.” You nod. You wanted this. You can’t back down now. This is your only chance to live a life without hardships. You’re going to take everything that he gives you.

“This will make it feel better.” Yoongi licks his finger and when it comes into contact with your clit you feel an overwhelming pleasure bloom inside you. His saliva is heightening your pleasure having some kind of chemical in it that helps you feel kind of high. It blocks the pain when his veiny head pushes through the tight rim of your muscle. You and Yoongi watch how his long cock disappears in you inch by inch. It doesn’t hurt at all as he keeps his thumb on your clit, only making you feel full.

“Too much.” You put your hand on your stomach and feel him sitting inside. He makes way no matter how much your body tries to constrict around the intrusion. He reaches your deepest part shaping you into his size.

“There. All in.” Yoongi chuckles when he sees you struggle. You want to stay still and move at the same time. It feels good and strange but too good. You want him to move but on the other hand, you need time to get accustomed to this fullness. Yoongi can see the outline of his cock bulge out of your tummy and he experimentally pushes against your skin. Your pussy pulse around him and get tighter as he massages your lower belly. “How does it feel my little human? Do you feel good?”

You nod kissing him back with passion as your tongues rub together. He continues his descent down your body kissing your neck and breasts. Filling your body with pretty black ink. You pulse and throb around him as he remains unmoving inside you. Not enough you roll your hips trying to show him you want him to move.

“Answer me. Does my cock make you feel good?” At first, he only pulls out a little before he thrusts back testing the waters before he pulls out more as he uses a steady pace to rock into you.

“Yes. Yes. So good please don’t stop. Fuck me harder.” Yoongi wonders how his wife learned how to say such dirty words in his language but he’s thankful for it as his cock appreciates the compliments. Just like you asked he fucks you harder hitting that spot inside you with more deep thrusts.

“Yoongi. Yoongi.” The way you moan his name spurs him on, grabbing your ankles he sinks the remaining inch inside you.

“Ah. Y/N.” He responds with your own name. Grabbing your hips he pumps his cock in and out of you at a fast pace until you can remember his shape. This is the first time he says your name and your walls constrict around him hearing him moaning it. He’s growing addicted to the feel of you. He can hear and smell and see you. The way your pussy swallows him in your tight and wet heat ruined every expectation he had before.

You feel way better than he imagined.

Your tits bounce with each thrust and your moans never cease to slip from your dry throat as he buries his shaft to the hilt.

“Yoongi, I feel weird.” You grab his hand need something to hold onto as you feel this weird tightness in your belly. Yoongi could sense you were almost there tripping over the edge of bliss you became tighter around him. You’re growing sensitive.

“I know. Hold onto me, my sweet wife.” You hold his hand as he twists it behind your back the position is uncomfortable but the minute his cock slips back inside your heat you forget about it as it reaches new places inside you. Your back is arched one hand is firmly holding you and the other is placed on your hips.

This position allows him to hit even deeper the tip of his cock curves around a spot that has you see stars. You’re panting with your face nearly suffocating against the bed. Unable to move or hold yourself up you’re entirely kept in place by the help of Yoongi. The tightness in your chest explodes as you cream around Yoongi’s cock. He doesn’t stop there he fucks you through overstimulation keeping up with his ruthless pace you tear through the bedsheets. His long fat cock claims your pussy as his with a heavy load of cum. The tattoos on your body all settle down as he finishes with a few sloppy thrusts into your buttered hole.

Once he pulls out you can feel his thick cum pour out and his fingers trace your tattoos painting your body with his whiteness until everything about you is covered in him. He doesn’t stop there, he pries your shaking legs open and latches onto your sensitive bud. Yoongi pushes his cum back with two of his fingers as his tongue flicks over your clit. It’s too much and you try to push his face away but he doesn’t budge. He holds both of your hands in his tight grip on your stomach as he continues to feast on your pussy.

“Yoongi. Oh, uh.” You squirm but you can’t escape his hold. “Please. Stop, i-it’s too much.” Tears start to roll down your cheeks the next orgasm you experience hurts so bad but you can’t deny how it feels incredible at the same time. More intense than the previous one you had you let go with a cry of his name and cum around his fingers.

“No. More.” Yoongi looks up after registering your hiccup and goes up to soothe you. His tongue licks your tears away showering your neck and face with kisses until your crying subsides.

Yoongi looks you over and while he finds you utterly appealing covered in his cum he has a concerned look in his eyes. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” He pulls you close to his chest but after your senses come back one by one you start to feel his sticky cum all over you. Some still gush out of your hole as he hugs you to his body.

“No.” You shake your head reassuring him with a kiss. You don’t want to admit you cried because he felt so good.

This is the first time you experienced something like this. You’re in no way an expert but you know that his dick is not like any human males you’ve encountered in your books. They shouldn’t be so cold and big and the small ridges that kept rubbing your insides felt weird but incredibly good at the same time.

Even when he’s not aroused he’s so big. You want to touch it. “Can I?” Asking for permission you reach for his cock that rests against your leg but you don’t touch it until you get the green light for it.

“Sure.” Yoongi chuckles at your curiosity. It hasn’t been a hot minute that his dick was inside you but you want to touch it.

“It’s cold.” You muse, it’s slick with both of your cum so you could drag it up and down easily. Yoongi’s gasp catches in his throat it’s still sensitive but he lets you pump it until it’s hard again. You grow curious about how it tastes so you lick around the head as your hand moves up and down in slow motion. It doesn’t really taste like anything to you. Easy to swallow. You take your place in between his legs to get comfortable. Yoongi shivers when he feels your hot mouth around his most sensitive cockhead. You dip your tongue into the slit earning a loud groan from Yoongi his hand rests on top of your head only moving to get the hair out of his view of you sucking his cock.

“Do you like it?” You wonder if it feels good for him. This is the first time you’re doing this.

“Y-Yes, keep going.” You take more of him into your mouth encouraged by his hooded eyes that watch you. “Your mouth is very warm. It feels incredible.” You hum around a mouthful of cock he’s too big for you to get even half of him into your mouth. You stroke the skin that you can’t lick and you focus on his head instead of trying to choke on his cock. Even though you don’t think he wouldn’t like to see you choke on his length trying to fit everything. He reassures you that he likes everything you do to him. He doesn’t try to push your head down and you appreciate his thoughtfulness with an enthusiastic bob of your head up and down his length. He fills your mouth so much that it’s hard for you to swallow around it.

He's throbbing between your lips as you kiss the tip. He shows you how much he’s enjoying it with his lewd moans and sweet touches on your face and the back of your head. Contemplating what you should do with yourself you decide to give in to the desire once more. You want to have him again that it outweighs your concern to be able to take him after such a short time but it doesn’t deter you as you climb on his lap.

“Help me?” You ask shyly rubbing on his fully hard cock.

“Of course,” Yoongi replies with a smirk he can see how needy you are and he won’t deny his pretty wife anything. He kisses your lips sucking on your tongue as he guides your hips to hover over his cockhead.

He touches and kisses every mark and tattoo that appears on your skin.

You sink slowly at your own pace feeling full but you overcome the stretch of your body remembering his shape makes it easier for you to bury it fully into you. He’s big and hard as a rock inside you.

You need him to help you move but he’s more than eager to lift you and have you bounce on his cock. He’s wound up from your previous actions he had no idea he would be this turned on by seeing your small hands and mouth wrapped around his dick. You smell delicious he can’t help but kiss every inch he can reach as he guides you through the motions. You bounce on his cock your expression entirely clouded by pleasure as he hits the best spots inside your spongy walls. Yoongi kneads your ass pulling them apart to watch his cock disappear inside your small pussy. Your body might be coated in his cum but his cock is entirely coated in your arousal and cum until he shoots a fresh load inside your spent hole.

The others don’t see you the next couple of days only catch the back of Yoongi as he carries fresh food for you.

#bts smut #bts fanfiction #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #bts alien au #bts fantasy au #alien bts #alien bts au #bts #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #alien yoongi #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction

676 notes · View notes

keen-li · 8 months ago

Text

MA'AM

18+

MDNI

Neighbour au. age gap au (reader is older than jk). kissing, touching, oral (female receiving), fingering, jk calls reader ''ma'am''. reader is kinda lonely, bored and untouched. p in v, no protection (be wise and condomize guys).

this is all just fiction, don't take it too seriously.

plus im stil learing to write smut, so go easy on me.

helpful and positve feedback is appreciated.

Sorry for any typos.

‘’oh yn,’’ you hear a familiar boy-ish voice speak.

And when you turn, your eyes are met with jungkook.

You know him cause he’s your neighbour, but you rarely speak seeing that you have nothing in common but he’s always kind and sweet whenever you bump into each other.

Like right now.

‘’jungkook’’ you say surprised to see him. ‘’how are you?’’ you give him back a smile.

You haven’t seen him in a while, he must be busy with college (you assume) or maybe he’s busy with some girlfriend. Guys his age are usually swarmed with girls. Especially seeing how attractive he is. The college girls must be having fun with him.

You admire his hair that seems to have gotten longer. You can’t help but notice how good he looks with it.

‘’i’m good, hope you’re doing well..’’ he pauses in his speech ‘’haven’t heard from you in a while. I almost thought you moved out’’

You chuckle at his assumption.

You shake your head lightly as you chuckle ‘’nope. Just busy with work’’

‘’i dont think i’d ever move out honestly’’ seeing as this apartment has a fair price for rent.

He chuckles.

‘’im glad thought i scared you away’’ he says worriedly.

‘’you’d never scare me away’’ you mumble out suddenly feeling nervous.

‘’with all those noise complaints you handed to me?’’ He says with a warm joking tone.

You can’t deny that a lot of noise comes from jungkook’s apartment, that you had to report him. You kinda feel childish for doing it, he’s a college boy anyways. All they know is noise.

‘’but i do get it. I make a lot of noise’’ he uses his pointer and middle finger to rub his lower lip, you get the chance to admire his tattooed finger and pierced lip.

You feel yourself swallow the lump in your throat and bite your lip. You don’t know why you always feel like this when talking to jungkook, maybe it’s his hovering figure, intimidating voice or piercing brown eyes. Even though his eyes give off a soft innocent look you can’t help but observe the sensuality in them.

‘’um yeah’’ you don’t know what else to say. Your eyes can barely look at jungkook while his eyes can’t stop looking at you. There’s no way a college boy can make you feel this nervous. You thought you had outgrown it.

Or maybe it’s the aloneness since your last boyfriend. It’s been quite depressive but you try and not let it eat you up.

But it’s hard when you and jungkook’s walls are as thin as paper. and can hear everything that goes on. Especially when he has a girl over.

You don’t mean to listen to what happens, but what else can you do when you’re laying in bed, bored and lonely. It seems sad you end up finding your hand in-between your thighs as you hear how jungkook pleasures.

With all the groans and name moaning you have come to the conclusion that jungkook must be a great fuck. But it’s not like you’ll ever know. Do you even want to?

You can never fuck someone younger than you right? You’ve always dated older men or at least someone the same age as you. You’ve never been with a younger guy before.

But jungkook seems like he could definitely go for an older woman.

Wait.

Does jungkook want you. He does seem to give off that vibe but maybe you’re in over your head. Jungkook wouldn’t want you there are so many better options for him. So many better girls for him. Not you.

‘’so do you like those?’’ he askes pointing to the basket you have filled with ramen noodles cups.

You chuckle embarrassed.

‘’ yeah i do but, i mainly buy them cause i don’t have time to cook’’

He nods.

‘’maybe i can come cook for you one day’’ you laugh but he’s actually serious.

‘’oh, i wouldn’t mind but i assume you’re busy with school’’ you swing the basket lightly and unconsciously.

‘’i can find time’’ he says a little rushed out.

‘’then i wouldn’t mind’’ you smile.

‘’you going home?’’ he asks.

You nod.

‘’i guess i can give you a ride home, if that’s alright with you’’

You wouldn’t mind at all.

The ride back home was quiet. It still baffles you to how jungkook has a car.

When you were in college you could barely find money to buy food, let alone a car.

And even with a job you can barely find money to buy or rent a car.

‘’thanks for the ride, it was nice meeting you today jungkook’’

The way you smile and say his name makes a hot flash rush through him.

If only you knew how many times his thought of you calling out his name. Sometimes he wishes it was you in his bed, toes curling and back arching.

If he got the chance, he’d show you how you deserve everything.

You don’t deserve to get yourself off and barely get off.

Did he ever say that the walls are so thin that he can hear you too.

He’s heard your frustrated moans and grunts. And all the times you cursed cause of how hard it was to get your high, sometimes his heard you cry and it breaks his heart.

He wishes he could get a chance to please you. He’s never wanted to please someone so bad.

He’s never been so desperate to get on his knees and run you dry of all your juices. To feel you claw at his back as you take him so well.

But he’s also never thought of being with an older woman.

Jungkook knows you’re older than him and he doesn’t mind. Actually he makes him want you more.

He wants you like air and if he doesn’t get you now he feels like he would stop breathing.

So if he doesn’t take this opportunity now he might never have the chance to.

‘’do you wanna, come eat ramen with me?’’

You don’t know how it happened. But he asked you to come over to his, you didn’t see a problem with it so you said yes.

But you don’t know how you went from laughing over some movie to grinding on his lap as your lips intertwine hungrily.

Fuck. You never thought you’d be doing this with your neighbour and fuck you never thought it would feel this good.

Your hands roam his firm chest, and your thoughts are proved right, he does like the gym. Though you could’ve known that without clawing at his chest.

These younger guys are always in the gym, like their life depends on it.

Your gasps and moans mix. You don’t know how innocent sounds of laughter turned into hot whimpers of need.

Maybe it was the stares that seemed to linger for longer than they should have.

Jungkook takes a moment to take in your face but then his lips are soon on yours again as eager as ever, and you accept them.

He kisses you with eagerness and desperation. Desperation to touch and feel you in every way.

You moan into his mouth as you feel the wetness grow between your legs. You hate how a college student, has you this hot and soaking wet.

You’re busy devouring each other’s lips but you don’t fail to recognize the tent forming and touching your centre.

Jungkook’s hands rummage over your back and over your hips and to your ass, he sqeezes your ass lightly which causes you to jumb lightly.

‘’you okay’’ he asks

‘’yeah just never had anyone squeeze my ass like that’’

That boy-ish smile of his is far gone, now a manly sexy grin paints his face. A grin like a wolf looking at a lamb as it’s next meal.

‘’you’ve never had someone touch you like that’’

You shake your head. You hate how jungkook makes you feel like a highschooler losing their virginity.

‘’who have you been fucking that doesn’t want to touch this ass’’ he squeezes your ass again, and you’re embarrassed when you release a moan at that action.

‘’i don’t know’’ your words come out more whiny than you’d like.

He moves to your neck and you move it to accustom him into the space. He places some wet and gentle kisses.

‘’i’m not like them though. I wanna touch every part of you. Wanna taste every part of you and feel you on me.’’ He kisses your neck again and the smacking sound of his lips meeting your skin causes you clench. ‘’i wanna treat you right, i wanna make you feel good’’

You don’t know how true his words are or if you can even take them seriously. Maybe it’s the lust talking. He’s a young man, he wouldn’t want to waste his days with you.

‘’don’t you have other, younger girls. You wanna make feel good.’’ You just had to ask.

The chuckles he releases causes a rush of blood to your groin.

‘’all i think about when i fuck them is you’’ he kisses you again.

You don’t want to believe him but your heart can’t help but flutter. You don’t want to get hurt again but something tells you jungkook is far from hurting you. But you can’t trust that feeling, what if that feeling is just how good it feels to be on him.

He has a great way with words and it would work on you every time, cause you haven’t grown out the naivety of your youth for some reason.

Jungkook knows when and how to say the right words which makes you scared. Which makes him dangerous. All these young boys are to slick with their words.

‘’yn, don’t think’’ he whispers against your lips. He must have noticed your distance all of a sudden.

‘’don’t think of anything but this’’ he pecks your lips.

‘’i’ll try’’ you coo.

‘’i’ll make you’’

his lips are back on yours desperately. And the sound of your lips smacking and you whimpers fills the room again.

His lips go back to licking and sucking that one spot on your neck. His mouth on your neck and hands on your hips helping you grind against his clothed crotch makes you gasp for air.

You’ve never had anyone take their time with you like this, they’re usually quick to just get it in. But not jungkook, he takes his time enjoying and tasting every part of you. Why wouldn’t he when he’s been thinking about this moment and taking cold showers to stop his natural desire for you.

Being with jungkook tells you how much you’ve been missing and how much you need to learn. It’s like going back to your college days.

‘’fuck jungkook’’ you moan when he nibbles at your neck. Your hands move from his chest to his neck then to his long hair.

You unintentionally pull at his hair and you love how he groans when you do so.

The need and ache between your legs grows strong as you grind harder on his lap. Jungkook watches how you move against him trying to find your high. He promises to give it to you but he needs to feel more of you before he does so.

You gasp when he plops you on your back onto his soft couch.

‘’jungkook...’’ you call out and he stops his action to attend to your need.

‘’yes’’ he sounds so submissive as he says so.

‘’i want you’’ your hips move up to feel some friction. He chuckles at the action.

‘’i want you too’’ he smiles as he pecks you on your forehead.

‘’no. Like i want you. Actually i fucking need you’’ you whine out. You’re probably gonna be so embarrassed later but right now you need him.

Your hand reaches for his belt but his hands stop you. You feel embarrassed and confused, you know he’s hard. You can see his fully grown bulge. But why does he want to take so much time.

‘’i wanna taste you first’’ he whispers by your ear.

Fuck. You’ve never had anyone want to eat you out. It’s been a while since anyone went down on you.

‘’jungkoo-‘’ you want to protest.

‘’please yn’’ he begs. ‘’i need it’’ his lips are against yours as he says in a whisper. His lips are on yours for a second before he leaves you wanting to taste his lips more.

You watch his body move down and you can feel your wetness drip down.

‘’fuck...’’ you hear him groan and grow a little self conscious.

‘’what?’’ you lift yourself up a bit.

‘’it’s just that you’re so fucking gorgeous’’ you can’t help but blush and feel a little weird. You’ve never had anyone ogle at you pussy like that.

‘’jungkook..’’ you call out in a whine. You can feel his breath breeze over you centre and it makes the need grow stronger.

‘’i’m sorry, im staring’’ he says and before you can tell him anything his lips are on you, hungrily.

You release a sharp moan as his lips make out with yours.

He licks a long strip of you pouring juices, your taste sinking into his tastebuds.

‘’so fucking good,’’ he groans. ‘’and so fucking wet’’ you feel his finger run through your folds.

‘’jungkook please. Fuck...’’ you don’t even know what you’re pleading for but you are.

Jungkook adheres to you unspoken cries, as he dives back into kissing you and massaging your clit.

Your hand finds it’s way to his hair and pulls. The groan he releases sends electricity through you.

You’ve never felt like this, nobody has ever put this much effort into touching you.

And jungkook has never put this much effort into eating pussy, but for you he will and he is.

He adds his fingers into you as he pumps into you.

‘’fuck you need to be fucked right’’ he says at your tightness. You can barely hear what he’s saying over at how hard he’s slurping.

With the way his digits work into you and his tongue sucks on your clit, you can feel that feeling you’ve been chasing.

‘’fuck jungkook, im going to-‘’ jungkook smiles at how you can barely finish your sentence but he knows.

The feeling grows closer and your heart races in excitement.

But then all of the sudden the feeling is gone and you’re about to curse out jungkook who’s now moving up.

‘’what the fuck, i was going to-‘’ you whine angrily.

‘’i want you to come over my cock’’

You don’t argue, he’s the one in control after all.

‘’ then please fuck me’’ all you can do is plead. It’s so embarrassing pleading for him to fuck you. You wonder if girls his age are this desperate too.

‘’yes ma’am’’ he says as he takes off his shirt, for some reason him calling you ma’am makes you more aroused.

‘’don’t call me ma’am’’ you say blushing but jungkook knows, you’re bullshitting.

‘’yes ma’am’’ he says with a cheeky grin knowing that it makes you clench around nothing.

You watch him unbuckle his belt and you’ve never seen anything this attractive.

As you watch him you anticipate how his going to feel and how you’ll wrap around him. That’s all jungkook can think about too as he strokes himself slightly, though he’s been hard since he saw you in the grocery store.

You feel his tip slide through your wet folds and you can’t help but suck in a breath. Jungkook can’t help but whimper at how wet and good you feel already.

You clench desperate to feel something inside you. You wonder if it will hurt, it’s been a while for you anyways. And he looks like he could stretch you out good. But you’re too needy to worry about that.

You gasp when you feel him move into you, slow and teasingly. His tip has you wondering if you’ll be able to take all of him.

‘’fuck you’re so good for me’’ he says as he moves in deeper. ‘’i wish i could feel you everyday’’

You can.

You want to say, but don’t wanna make promises. You don’t know if this will ever happen again.

‘’do you wanna be good for me like this everyday, yn’’ he says kissing along your jaw as he settles into you.

He doesn’t move waiting for your answer.

You hum but it’s not enough for him.

‘’yes, i want you everyday’’ you end up speaking more of your mind than you planned to.

Jungkook smiles as he slowly begins to move in and out.

‘’good. You can have me everyday’’

With the ways he rocks into you, slowly increasing speed, you understand the moans of those girls you heard him fucking.

His name falls from your mouth as he continues. Jungkook has never enjoyed being buried in heat like this. And he’s never wanted to stay in forever like he does right now.

‘’jungkook..’’ with the way your nails dig into his arm and you flutter around he knows you’re close.

But so is he. Your high is his target as he continues to stroke.

Jungkook twitches inside of you as you both reach your highs.

He lays on top of you as you breath heavily. He tries to keep his weight from crushing you.

‘’next time i wanna be on top’’ you say with the energy you’ve got left.

‘’deal. Even though i like being on top, i’ll let you ride me’’ you almost feel that feeling comeback.

You stroke his hair as you watch that boy-ish smile return on his face.

It’s like he’s changed and wasn’t the person balls deep into you seconds ago.

‘’i like this’’ you say comfortable.

‘’i like you’’ Jungkook coos into your neck.

611 notes · View notes