#that I was making it up if I had just been on my fucking own I wouldn't have double guessed myself on it and gone to the wrong specialist
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
BABY TRAP? LIKE THE MOVIE WITH THE TWINS?
description⊠you two are meant to be. sealed by fate, star crossed lovers. youâll keep each other around however you need to.
warnings⊠dark content! baby trapping! noncon! obviously theyâre being baby trapped they say something trying to stop it. consensual sex. full penetrative sex.
a word from the writer⊠iâve had this in the drafts for aWHILE. itâs about time. do yall still read dc? iâll never stop supplying⊠are we too woke now?!
TRAPS YOU
youâre hot under him, and heâs making that face he always makes right before he cums. itâs like repetition; eyes blanked out, mouth ajar but not fully open, brows furrowed like heâs desperateâ and itâs scary.
âbaby,â the word is cut in two with how fast heâs going, tease of pain as he hilts into your cervix with every thrust. âbaby, youâre not wearing a condom.â your voice is uneasy, shaky from the movement and pleasure and build up. you think, in a way, the way you have sex is unfair. he gives you so much, orgasm after orgasm, rubbing your clit as he drills you to the point you go fucking stupid.
you feel safe with him. sex is sacred with him, no matter how sick it gets. but right now, with your calves pressed into his shoulders, his hands pushing your thighs impossibly back, you feel uneasy.
âbaby, baby, pull out.â he gasps, sweat dripping down right near your eyes as a shaky groan escapes him.
âfuck,â a chaste kiss to your forehead, a shakiness in his movements, an unmatched rhythm as he gets closer and closer. âfuck. oh my, god. you feel so fucking goodâ so fuckinâ good.â
and so does he. but youâre scared.
âyouâre gonna make such a good mommy, gonna be such a good mama. gonnaâ gonna give you my babies. gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine.â
âhey, wait,â your hands raise to his chest but he hits that angle that makes your eyes roll and they fall back. it feels so good you almost donât care. âbaby, baby, baby stop. baby, you gotta pull out.â
âyouâre gonna be such a good mommy. gonna give you my kids. gonna give you my kids.â and itâs instant. itâs before you can even thinkâ if you could anywayâ itâs pressed so deep in you you betray yourself and cum, too.
he places his head to yours, kisses you greedy and whole, and whines into your mouth. itâs him, itâs real, itâs love. butâ and you know thisâ itâs something so wrong.
âdid you justâŠ?â and before you can finish your question, heâs regaining his rhythm, fucking his cum into you with a half hard dick. itâs precise, itâs calculated, itâs intention.
he looks at you, eyes wide, breath heavy, and gives you a little grin. âgonna keep fucking you even when youâre pregnant, baby. gonna make sure i can keep you all to myself.â
GOJO, GETO, SUKUNA, YUJI
GETS TRAPPED
your legs hurt. youâve been on top for all of thirty minutes, which you have no one to blame other than yourself. you love to edge him, love to get him so close and then take it all away from him. you think it gets him a little addicted.
but right now, as he squirms under you, losing every ounce of masculinity heâs ever had, something takes over you.
âgonna cum,â itâs breathless, short and sweet. âoh shit, iâm gonna cum.â you think he must think youâre edging him again. you think heâs expecting you to slow down, stop all together, pick up off him fully for ten or so seconds and then slam back down.
but you pick up the pace, grinding your hips into his, hitting his pelvic bone with your own as your hands grip at his pecs.
âwait, are youââ he falls apart under you, voice failing him, body failing him, hands only finding the strength to grip at your hips. âbaby girl, iâm gonna cum.â
itâs melodic, tactile and articulate, a steady flow of bounces while your squelch fills the room.
âsweetheart, you gotta stop.â your right hand lifts from his chest to his mouth, shoving your fingers between his lips while he groans. heâs so easy to you, for you, because of you.
and then you feel it, milk it, relish in itâ the way he comes undone at your touch, loses himself deep inside you. you donât say a word about it, donât think about it too much as you press your wet fingers to your stomach.
itâs a quiet giggle as reality washes over him. he looks cute, you canât help but realize, panic and flushed under you. youâre sure of it then; heâs gonna be a sexy dad.
MEGUMI, NANAMI, CHOSO, TOJI
#sick and twisted mind#jjk x reader#jjk smut#toji smut#gojo smut#geto smut#megumi smut#nanami smut#yuji smut#sukuna smut#choso smut#toji x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#megumi x reader#nanami x reader#yuji x reader#sukuna x reader#choso x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#nanami kento x reader#yuji itadori x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Last Chance
âCome over?â
You knew what the message meant, what she was asking for. What else could she mean, sending you that text at near midnight on a Friday night?Â
The night air is crisp as you leave your friendâs apartment, where his yearly Inbetween-Christmas-and-New-Years party was raging. It seemed to only get colder as you stood on the sidewalk waiting for your ride, and the Uber driverâs seeming reluctance to crank up the heat in his car meant that the ride across town to her apartment was almost equally as chilly.Â
Her building was a lot warmer, thankfully, and when she opens the door and greets you with a smile she gives you all the warmth you need.
âCome in,â Chou Tzuyu says with a small wave of her hand and nod of her head. âDrink?â
âIâve had plenty at the party,â you admit, âbut wouldnât say no to water.â
âGood choice,â she says with a sly smile, cracking open her fridge to pull out a jug. âGotta stay hydrated.â
You watch as she pours you a glass, her back turned to you as you enter her small but nicely furnished kitchen. Sheâs wearing a short, tight t-shirt and what were probably the tiniest pair of green cotton shorts known to man. The fit left much of her midsection and all of her long, shapely legs bare, highlighting the wideness of her hips and the fullness of her thighs. You hadnât thought it possible, but she almost looked as attractive with the flimsy scraps of cotton on her as she did without them.
She hands you your glass of water, tapping it with her own as you both take sips and step into her living room.Â
âHad a real shitty week,â she says, unprompted, as though she somehow felt the need to justify calling you over on a Friday night, felt the need to justify what the both of you were about to do. âKind of need to blow off some steam.â
âFair enough. Work again?â
âYeah,â she says with a sigh under her breath, leaning against the arm of her couch, where you join her. âBig project due next week thatâs kept me at the office most nights. AndâŠâ
âAnd?â
âThereâs this guy.â
You sigh, inwardly, hiding your reaction behind another sip of water. You feel a sting somewhere in the depths of your heart, one you do your best to keep hidden behind the barrier of nonchalance that youâd worked hard to maintain with her.
âOh?â you manage.
âCo-worker,â she says, softly, after another sip. âYeah, yeah, I know, âdonât date co-workers.â But Iâm pretty sure heâs into me, yâknow? And Iâve been into him since, well, forever ago. But Iâm so frustrated, because he wonât make a fucking move, no matter how many signals I send his way.â
â...and youâre into him?â you ask, even as the words hurt to say.
She fumbles a bit with the glass in her hand, staring down at it as though she were looking for the answer to your question in the transparent liquid that it contained.
âWell, yeah,â she admits. âI know I should really keep it professional, considering how long weâve been working together and how much I rely on him at work, but⊠I dunno. I dunno what to make of it, thatâs all. I just wish heâd call me or something, get it over with, one way or another. Was kind of hoping heâd ask me out over the holidays, but nothing.â
âAh,â you admit. âMaybe heâs just not into girls that arenât hot enough to be invited to Inbetween-Christmas-And-New-Yearâs parties,â you tease. âI wouldnât be either, to be honest.â
Tzuyu smirks and gives you a playful swat on the arm, the smirk turning into a warm smile. âThanks for coming over,â she says, softly. âI need this.â
âI mean, I had to leave an above average Inbetween-Christmas-and-New-Yearâs party because my moderately attractive friend across town needs my dick in her so she can get over some guy at work, but sure, I guess I kinda need it too.â
Tzuyu giggles - a soft, musical sound you never tired of hearing.Â
She locks eyes with you for a moment, and in that split second you feel disarmed, as though she sees right through you, right through the humor and sarcasm and other defenses youâd put up to keep her from seeing the real you. You worry, for a moment, that she sees right through your sarcastic, aloof facade you forced yourself to wear lest she see how you really felt about her.
The moment is fleeting, though, and after she takes your glass of water and places it on the coffee table next to hers, the look you find in her eyes is altogether different. Thereâs hunger there now, and need.
She pulls you to your feet, wraps her arms around your neck, and your heart stops beating for a moment when your lips touch.Â
Gentle, soft at first, as it always was, because despite being friends with benefits for a year or so and friends for much longer you both never quite got over that initial awkwardness, those odd, clumsy moments when you both knew what you wanted but werenât quite sure how to go about initiating the process to get it.
You liked to think it was because you were both hopeless romantics at heart, and something within you both thought that sex without the feelings was beneath you, was something only indulged in by desperate single people who couldnât get into a relationship to save their lives. Perhaps it was because neither of you wanted to be the one to admit, at least on the outside, that this was just for pleasure, that you were using a friend for an orgasm or two and that was it, end of story, we now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
But the feeling quickly fades amidst the feel of another body pressed to yours, and soon the kiss becomes heated. Tongues dance, mouths open, your lips crush against each other. Your hands roam - yours around that tiny waist of hers, hers around your neck, fingers furrowing into the hair at the back of your neck. You pull her against you and her body molds to yours, warm and soft and pliant.
You break the kiss, eager to have more of her, your heart pounding now, so loud you fear she might hear it pounding out of your chest. She gasps as you dive into her neck, her hands weaving further into your hair, nails digging into your scalp. She tilts her head to the side, gives more of herself to you.
âFuck,â she hisses, between gritted teeth. âFuck. Need this.â
You devour her neck, finding and fixating on those sensitive spots where you knew she loved to be kissed. Your hands slide up her back and cup her ass and youâre thankful again that she decided to wear such a flimsy outfit that did little to hide the wonders of her body.Â
She pulls away for a moment to pull her shirt up and over her head and sheâs topless now, her hands working on your own clothes and divesting you of your button-up and t-shirt you wore beneath it. You come together again and the thrill of her soft, warm breasts pressing against your chest takes the breath away from your mouth for a moment, even as she covers your newly breathless lips with a kiss. The stiff peaks of her nipples press against you, tight and needy, sending a shiver up your spine.
You reach down, pick her up with your hands beneath her ass - and she giggles again as you carry her toward her bedroom. Her legs wrap themselves around your waist, her arms around your neck, but she weighs nothing against the need for her that gives you all the strength you need. Sheâs smiling and laughing and sheâs everything you could ever want, right there in your arms.
Sheâs yours, and sheâs not.
You drop her onto her bed, where her landing gives those small, perfect breasts of hers a delightful looking bounce. Your eyes find hers and for a moment, a split second, youâre afraid again - that she can see right through you, find the way you really feel about her beyond the hunger and lust and need.Â
Because Chou Tzuyu is perfect - when sheâs topless on her bed, lips slightly parted, eyes hooded, yes - but she was also perfect when you met her in your senior-level psychology lecture, perfect when you helped her move into this very apartment, perfect when you went out for dinner after she landed her first big job in her field; the very same one where sheâd meet the guy she was apparently so very into, the same guy you most decidedly were not, the same guy you were apparently a substitute for on a lonely Friday night.
You need her - that perfect, tight body, the wide hips and full thighs, the round, perky breasts and the beautiful smile - but in ways beyond the physical. You need her beyond lonely weeknights and 2am weekend hookups. You need her for Sunday mornings at the grocery store where you both plan your lunches for the week, you need her for vacations in Fukuoka and Amsterdam and Vancouver. You need her for random, candid photos on your phone during a coffee date where she believes, ridiculously, that she were anything less than perfect in your eyes.
But sheâs not yours - at least, not in the way you would like. Sheâs half-naked on her bed and youâre between her spread thighs and sheâs looking at you like she wants to devour you whole and somehow, someway, thatâs not enough. It would never be enough. But itâs all you have. Itâs all she can give you.
You bend to kiss her, and being past that clumsy, awkward initial phase, the kiss is heated, passionate. Itâs also a short one, because the rest of her body beckoned, and you didnât possess the patience or self-control to deny yourself what was yours to take. You indulge in the delights of Chou Tzuyuâs body because itâs a distraction from the feelings that you fear might take over if you indulge them, if you let yourself dream about what your life would be like if she werenât just a friend, werenât just a Friday night fuck.
You kiss a path down her neck, to her sharp, prominent collarbones, each soft peck eliciting a little gasp or hiss from her lips. When you reach her breasts sheâs practically begging, back arched off the mattress, desperate to have your mouth on her. She loved having your hands on her small mounds, your lips locked over her nipples, licking and sucking. Smaller boobs are more sensitive, sheâd said once, only half-jokingly, and you never forgot it.
You give her what she wants - what you both want. Your mouth latches on to one breast, lips closing over her tight nipple and sucking, licking, lightly biting.
Tzuyu moans - a long, languid sound of pleasure, her loudest of the night. You never tired of hearing the pleasure leaving her lips in long, wordless drawls. It was like music. It was a song that only she knew the lyrics to, that she performed only for you, and you never tired of hearing it play.
Your mouth and hand swap, your lips latching tightly to her other nipple while you squeeze the other one with an open palm, relishing the feel of the soft flesh beneath your fingers.Â
You spend a little longer on her right breast, because you knew it was somehow more sensitive than the other one - just another of those small things you knew about her body that no one else did. Another fact about Chou Tzuyu that belonged just to you, that you held tight against your chest and treasured greedily. You loved knowing that you knew things about her body no one else did.Â
You loved knowing that you were the only one who knew these dirty, filthy little things about her, and that you were the only man on earth she trusted with them. The thought of sharing that knowledge with another man - or even worse, of losing access to it altogether, having it taken away from you by some random asshole who didnât know these things, hadnât worked to learn them - made you feel something dark and upsetting, something between fear and anger.
Tzuyu is a moaning and sighing mess now, her legs wrapped around your lower back, her own back arching up and off the mattress in an attempt to offer more of her body to you. Her nails dig little spikes of pain into your scalp with each suckle you draw from her nipple. Her thighs part even further and you feel the warmth between them pressing against your belly, even through the green shorts riding up her hips. She moans and writhes beneath you and if youâd spent the rest of the night with her breasts in your mouth and under your palms you wouldâve been satisfied with that alone.
But she has other ideas - wants more, craves more. The fingers sheâs woven into your hair push you downward. You release her stiffened nipple from between your lips with a pop, gazing up momentarily to find her looking back at you, cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded, a sigh on her lips. Their corners perk up in a barely noticeable, shy little smile.
Her tongue darts out, moistens her full pink lips, and you catch the unspoken request.
You bend your head again, returning your lips to her skin, starting a trail down her flat stomach, taking care to press a soft kiss on that cute belly button of hers. You open your eyes to watch her abs flex with every movement, delighting in the sight and feel of the tight muscle beneath the perfect, creamy skin. Hers was a body sheâd spent many long hours in the gym and pilates studio for, and you were more than happy to make sure she knew how worth it it all was.
You reach her shorts, eventually - the flimsy strip of soft green cotton that was just barely enough to provide her with some measure of modesty. You take a moment to admire the way they sat on her hips, the way her full, flushed thighs look spread beneath them. She squirms under your gaze, her hips searching for friction, begging you to get them off her.
Your patience outlasts hers, because sheâs the one to reach for the buttons keeping the shorts closed. You consider stopping her and undoing the buttons yourself, but there is a part of you that needs to see her undress herself for you, needs to watch her reveal her most intimate parts to you and you alone.
Thin, dainty fingers make quick work of the button, and she raises her hips, hooking her thumbs into the waistband and pulling them off her hips. You make way as she pulls the shorts off the long, endless length of her legs. She tosses them aside, over the side of the bed, where for all intents and purposes they cease to exist.
Her thighs remain tight together for a moment, only a few moments - and in those seconds her eyes are locked on yours, capturing and holding every ounce of your attention. Her thighs part, her legs spread and allow you back between them, but your eyes hold her gaze regardless. Her eyes tell you she wants you to relish the way she looks, naked and vulnerable, her body spread and laid out for you to take, to make yours for the rest of the night.
âFuck, Tzuyu,â you mumble, unable to really say anything more than her name.
She smirks, those wonderful lips of hers curling into a smile. Without further word she grasps your skull with her palms and gently pushes you down towards her waiting pussy.
Her cunt is beautiful, like the rest of her - flushed and pink and glistening in the soft light of her bedroom, the insides of her thighs already moist with her juices. You bend down and give her a long, slow lick from the base of her opening to the top. The taste of her floods your palette just as the sound of the gasp that leaves her lungs fills your ears - a sound that is quickly muffled by the closing of her warm, moist thighs around your cheeks and face.
You do it again, give her another lick from bottom to top, then a third. You swirl her juices around on your tongue, relishing the taste of her. Sheâs squirming now, writhing, waiting for you to really commit to pleasuring her, her back arching and her nails digging more incessantly into your scalp.
You take a glance up at her - a viewpoint that you were truly blessed to bear witness to - past the flat planes of her stomach, between her heaving breasts, and finally to her face, flushed and pink, lower lip tucked under teeth, eyes fixed on you. She does it again - communicates her need without words, telling you, begging you, to give her the pleasure she so desperately needed.Â
And so you do, bending and closing your lips around the tender bud of her clit, your tongue darting out softly, gently, avoiding the sensitive nub and instead licking around it, tracing soft, slow circles around it, just the way you knew she liked.Â
The wordless song that has been leaving her mouth all night hits a higher tone, another octave as you work her over with your tongue. Everything intensifies for Tzuyu - the pleasure coursing up her spine, the wetness between her legs, the volume of the moans leaving her mouth. Her head falls back, eyes shutting, mouth now permanently ajar.
It intensifies for you, too - the pinpricks of irritation her nails are digging into your scalp become painful nails, the wet warmth of her thighs closes ever more around your cheeks, and the slick wetness of her cunt increases, making your lips and chin slick. You continue to swirl your tongue around the tender flesh surrounding her clit, neither increasing nor decreasing in pace - simply maintaining your current one, knowing from experience what made her body work, what would give her the most pleasure.
Tzuyu becomes a mewling, quivering mess beneath your tongue. The moans and profanities leaving her lips continue unabated. She forces herself every now and then to open her eyes, glance down at the top of your head nestled between her spread legs, the mere sight of you there, in her most intimate area with your lips around her clit, enough to send yet another spike of pleasure up her spine and into her addled brain.Â
âGod, fuck, that feels so good,â she manages to gasp, her brain barely able to form recognizable words out of the stream of sounds leaving her mouth. âFuck, keep going.â
You knew where exactly where she was, what level of pleasure she was experiencing - knowledge that was the product of many a night doing exactly this, pleasuring her just the way you were now. You knew that she was right there, dangling on the precipice, and that she needed just that one last nudge, one last push.
You slip your right hand from where it was wrapped around her thigh, sliding it beneath her, bringing your fingertips to her drenched opening. She gasps as she feels your fingertips at her thus far neglected entrance, knowing what it means, knowing what is about to come. You can almost feel her pussy writhe and ripple around your fingers, now a knuckle deep, urging you, begging you deeper.
âPlease,â she gasps, and you oblige. You slide your index and middle fingers inside her, palm up, and the effect on her body is immediate. Her moans cut out, her entire body goes rigid for a moment, as though shocked by lightning. The silence left by the cessation of her moans leaves only the sound of her body writhing on the bed to fill your ears, along with the wet slickness of your fingers moving inside her.
Throughout it all your tongue is swirling around her clit, merciless, unwavering in its pace and depth and pressure. Your fingers are ones pushing her, upping stakes, sliding slowly deeper inside her slickness, curling upward, searching, finding, then teasing.
It takes only a few seconds of your fingertips grazing that most sensitive part of her before Tzuyu orgasms, taking herself by surprise almost as it did you. Her world explodes, her body goes stiff, her eyes shut and for a few wonderful moments all she sees is stars.
You almost have to fight to hold her down with your free hand flat on her tense belly lest your mouth lose contact with her spasming cunt. You fight to keep your tongue and fingers moving, if at a slightly slower pace, letting her ride it out, letting her feel and relish every second of the pleasure coursing its way through every fibre of her being. Sheâs quiet through it all, mouth frozen in a silent scream, which was rare - she was usually one to announce and talk through her pleasure, but here she was, rendered unable to even moan.
âFucking hell,â she spits, sometime later when she is able to form words again. Her body is suddenly boneless and sinking into the mattress, utterly drained. Her thighs finally loosen around your head, much to your chagrin, because youâd grown fond of the sticky warmth youâd found between them.
She pulls your face up toward her, and you delight in the tour youâre given of her breathless, sweaty body beneath you as you crawl up the bed until youâre face-to-face. When you reach her lips she captures yours in a tight, passionate kiss, her tongue finding yours and tasting herself on its surface.
âI need you now,â she hisses, eyes boring into yours. You need her too. You always have, truth be told, but perhaps not in the same ways that she needed you. You want to say something, lying here, inches from her face, her eyes needy and vulnerable. But the words never come. The moment passes.
Before you can react any further her hands slide from your head to your shoulders, where she gives you a gentle push onto your back on the bed. She rolls atop you, straddling your hips.
Thereâs a coy smile on her lips as she undoes the belt at your waist before undoing the button and fly of your jeans and pulling them down your hips. She lets out a soft giggle as you raise your hips and pull the clothes off your legs as though they were on fire. This is all a game to her, a release, a fun, if momentary, distraction. The realization of that stings a little, somewhere deep inside you, where she canât see the hurt sheâs caused to you.
When youâre finally as naked as she is, she straddles you again. Your eyes find hers, as they always did, drawn to them, magnetically, as though you could always find what you needed in them. The small moment of levity and amusement she gained from watching you desperately undress disappears, replaced again by need and desire.Â
Her tongue slips out between her lips when she gazes down and sees your cock, hard and aching. Her hand reaches out to grasp it and you feel the air rush out of your lungs at this first intimate contact. She brings your tip to her entrance, dragging the head up and down through her lips, lathering it with her slick juices.
You want to say something, want to tell her how utterly captivating she looks on your lap, your cock at her entrance; you want to tell her how much you wish you were about to fuck your girlfriend or your wife and not just a friend; you want to tell her how the very thought of another man being where you are, right now, upsets you more than you had any right to be.
The moment passes - again. You slide inside her, and suddenly words donât exist any more.
The sight of Chou Tzuyu impaled hilt-deep on your cock is like nothing else youâve ever experienced, like nothing else you ever will. Sheâs feminine perfection, right here, on you, wrapped around you.Â
Her head is tilted back, mouth open in a silent moan, eyes shut, brow furrowed, as though deep in concentration. Her breasts are perfect and round and her nipples taut. Her abs flex - defined, toned. And her thighs - perfect, full, flushed. Sheâs more than you can take. Sheâs more than you can keep.
Itâs a feeling that is only intensified when she begins to move, begins to use those strong, firm thighs and hips of hers to move herself up and down your cock, slowly, with soft, measured movements. She lets herself get used to you, get used to that delicious stretch of you inside her. Itâs painful, in a way, how slowly sheâs moving - it takes more self-control than youâd care to admit not to just hold her hips down and piston into the wonderful slickness of her cunt.
But hurting her was the last thing you wanted. If only sheâd known how much she was hurting you. You wonder if she would stop if she knew. You wonder if she would even care.
Eventually she ups her pace as her body molds itself around you. Sheâs beginning to sigh and gasp now, mostly on the downstroke as your cock slides inside her, spreading her apart and stretching her out, sending shocks of pleasure throughout both your bodies with each entry. Your hands are firm on her hips, resisting for now the temptation to reach up and play with her softly bouncing breasts, or pull her back down onto your cock with more force. Youâre content, feeling her, watching her take her pleasure from you.
Watching her use you.
Tzuyu feels your eyes on her, roaming her body, drinking in the sight of her. One hand reaches up to her breasts, capturing one, teasing the taut nipple for a moment with long, dainty fingertips, giving you a show. Eventually she brings both her hands to her scalp, gathering her hair, pulling it above her head and holding it there. Sheâs a vision, then and there - her hands above her head, back arching, breasts bouncing wildly as she continues to ride you.
âJesus, Tzuyu,â you spit, the profanities tumbling from your mouth before you even knew you were speaking them. âFuck, youâre perfect.â
She lets her hair fall from the top of her head in a chocolate waterfall. Her hands cup her own breasts, fingertips playing with her aching nipples.
âYou like me like this, baby?â she hisses, a question she knows the answer to. âYou like me like this, bouncing on your cock, all tight and wet for you?â
âFuck, yes, Tzuyu, fuck.â
Her lips curl into a wicked smile, before her lower lip curls under a perfect white tooth. She lets something deep and guttural escape her throat behind her bitten lip.
She bends over you, hands on either side of your head, hair framing a face twisted in pleasure.
She ups her pace, riding you fiercely now, hips slamming down onto yours at a pace that is almost violent. Your hands grasp her thighs, fingers clawing into the soft flesh, feeling the muscles beneath them work to throw their owner against you over and over and over.
âFuck me,â she snaps, and you oblige.
You thrust upward to meet her, timing each movement of your hips to match with the downstroke of hers, and soon you are slamming your bodies against each other at a merciless pace.
Tzuyu shrieks - loud, sharp. She swears and spits and sheâs becoming a loud, mewling mess atop you, but throughout it all she manages to keep riding you, keep bouncing that perfect body of hers atop your cock. Her cunt pulsates, squeezes you like a velvet glove. Sheâs so wet, leaking with so much arousal, that every slamming of your hips against each other is muffled by the wet stickiness that has coated much of your lower bodies.
âOh god, oh god, I-â she begins, each word punctuated with a thrust of your cock into her cunt. âOh fuck, I, so good-â
You watch her, watch that perfect face of hers twist in pleasure, watch as that perfect body of hers takes your cock. Your brow furrows and your hips burn with the effort but you feel none of the fatigue, none of the weariness of the physical effort. All that matters is her pleasure. All that matters is making sure she-
âCumming-â she hisses, just barely before she does.Â
Her eyes shut, body stiffens, just as it did when she came on your mouth - and her cunt tightens wonderfully around your cock, pulsating, squeezing. You bury yourself inside her to the hilt, wanting to feel every second of her orgasming around you. You can feel the shocks of pleasure radiating from her, reaching her limbs, flooding her brain with sensation.Â
When she remembers to breathe she lets out a long, drawn out breath. Her arms, shaky, finally give way and she collapses atop you, head next to yours. For a few long seconds she does nothing but breathe heavily against you, the gasps and sighs that leave her mouth loud against your ear. Your hands roam her sweat-slick back, fingertips tracing a path down her spine and pulling a soft sigh from her tired lips.
âGod,â she says into your ear. âFuck, that was so good, baby.â
You loved and hated when she called you that. It was a pet name for lovers - and she only used it during sex. She only ever called you by your first name anywhere outside the bedroom. Another reminder of the boundaries. Of the limits.
âYou feel amazing, Tzuyu,â you say, truthfully. Her cunt is still pulsating softly around your painfully stiff cock as the last waves of her orgasm leave her body. The warm slickness of her around you made a pleasant distraction from your emotions. Pleasant, but not easy.
You feel her lips curl into that sly smile of hers again against your cheek. She plants a few kisses under your ear, tracing a path along your jaw, until she finds your lips. Her hips begin to move again, side to side - not taking you in and out of her body, but just moving you around, swirling your stiffness inside her.
âYour turn, baby,â she whispers, half-lidded eyes locked on yours. âHow do you want to cum in me?â
Youâd had her in every position imaginable over the time youâve been fuck buddies. But you always enjoyed one of them more than the others.
âWant you from behind-â you begin. â-Tzu.â you finish, resisting the temptation to call her âbaby.â Some small, bitter part of you felt she didnât deserve to be called that, not if she was going to tease you, hurt you with its use, make a weapon out of it that she wielded carelessly, inconsiderately.
Thankfully, she doesnât notice your momentary hesitation - maybe she was still recovering from the high of her orgasm, or maybe she was too focused on gyrating her hips around the stiffness still hilt-deep inside her.
âAlright, baby,â she says, again, the word stinging even if it was laced with the sweet honey of her voice. The smile on her lips is proof of how oblivious she is to the damage she wreaks with each wreckless use of it.Â
You didnât blame her. How could you? How could you expect someone to know what you felt internally when you continually denied it externally?
Youâd promised each other, when you first started this little arrangement, that youâd put an end to it if either of you found yourselves with anything even remotely resembling feelings for the other. But how could you end it, when youâre in her bed and youâre both naked and sheâs wet and ready and on her hands and knees, looking over her shoulder at you, slick pink lips opening to say-
âCome take me, then.â
A stronger man would have ended this a long time ago. You were not that man, not today. You doubted there were many men in the world with that level of strength.
You bring yourself behind her, admiring the sight of her - perfect, as she always was, perfect in every sense of the world. Sheâs creamy skin and a tiny waist and those hips and thighs, my god, those hips and thighs. Sheâs there and wet and ready and wanting and who could say no?
You bring your tip to her opening, parting her lips with your head, swirling it, swiping it up and down her slick flesh, sending a shiver of pleasure into both of your bodies. She sighs and her back arches delightfully, the dip of her spine sharp and prominent in the low light of her bedroom. She mewls and sighs, her hips pushing back against you, needy, wanting.
âFuck, baby, come on,â she sighs, she begs.Â
You loved her voice, soft and light, like silk spun into air - but you loved it most when it was begging, needy.
Her hips continue to push against you, the round cheeks of her ass pressing against you, trying to pull you inside her herself. âPlease,â she continues, airy and breathless. âPut it in me. Donât you want my pussy? Donât you want me?â
You did. You wanted her, but in more ways than this. Chou Tzuyu is on her hands and knees in front of you and sheâs dripping wet and begging and somehow itâs not enough.
One of her hands slides down her body, and her fingertips part the slick lips of her pussy. Sheâs glistening and pink and pure distilled need, right there, right here, ready for you to take.Â
And she doesnât give a damn about your feelings, is blissfully oblivious to everything but the emptiness between her legs. All she wants is a fuck. Thatâs it. Thatâs all you are. Youâre everything and nothing, all at once.
âLook how empty I am without you inside me, baby. Come fill me up.â
You slide inside her - how could you not, after hearing that? Sheâs so tight and hot and wet, and you forget, momentarily, everything other than the feel of her cunt wrapped around you.
You fuck her - hard, firm, your pace fuelled more than you would care to admit by a darkness inside you that you werenât proud to admit to. Jealousy, of some man youâd never met, some man who made her feel like you never could? Anger, at her, for not seeing how you felt about her, how amazing you could be together?
Whatever it was, it was ugly and came from a dark place, and you didnât want to acknowledge it. But you fuck Chou Tzuyu with it running through your veins - fast, hard. And she sighs and moans and thinks youâre just especially turned on today, want a harder fuck than usual. She doesnât know any better. Doesnât know that youâre using her body the way you are, as an outlet for your frustration and anger as much as an outlet for your pleasure.
You reach forward, running your fingers through her hair with a surprising gentleness, even as your cock hammers in and out of her body, rocking it, pounding her.
Then your fingers close, pull. She yelps, gasps.
Her spine arcs sharply backward as you pull backward on her hair. You use her hair like a leash, pulling back as you thrust forward. Tzuyu can do nothing but take it, her body given to you fully. The spasming and quivering of her cunt around you is evidence of her acceptance, her submission.Â
Your hips slap wetly against her ass with each hard thrust you make into her tight, slick pussy. The bedroom fills with it - flesh hitting flesh, wordless sighs and moans that turn into begging, profanity, name calling - the lewd soundtrack of sex.
âFuck, fuck,â Tzuyu manages, âYouâre so fucking deep, fuck, more, fuck me more-â
You shut her up. The hand pulling her hair wraps around her scalp, pushes her face down onto the bed. You pin her down, your palm flat against the back of her neck and upper shoulders. Throughout it all you are fucking her, using her, just as she uses you, even if itâs for different reasons, with entirely different depths of emotion.
Her mouth muffled against the bed, sheâs unable to say or do much more. And you prefer her this way, because every word she says - even the ones that spur you into fucking her harder, faster, deeper - will only make it harder to leave her when youâre done.
Not that you needed much motivation to fuck her the way she liked - hard, deep, but not wild or uncontrolled. You maintain your pace, enjoying the way her cunt squeezed and tightened rhythmically around you. Tzuyu knew how to communicate with her body, knew how to tell you exactly what she wanted without words.
You watch her beneath you, relished the sight of her helpless and unable to do much of anything but take your cock again and again. Her moans and sighs are muffled by the cotton of her bedsheets, but you heard enough of them to tell you you were hitting just the right spots inside her. Sheâs under you and sheâs yours and you do your best to stay in the moment, enjoy the feeling of her wrapped around you.
You feel that feeling in your core, the telltale building of pleasure in your gut that heralds your impending orgasm, tells you to fuck her harder and deeper and bury your cum inside her. She must have felt it too, somehow, in the slightly more erratic rhythm of your thrusts, or the tighter grip of your palm against the back of her neck.
Tzuyu turns her head enough to clear her mouth of the bedsheets, despite your palm on the back of her neck.
âFucking cum in me,â she hisses, âPlease cum inside me. Make me yours.â
The perfect words, on any other night - but on this night they only hurt you.Â
Because she isnât yours, might never be. Tomorrow, she might be another manâs. Even as you thrust harder and harder and your orgasm comes closer and closer all you can think of is how empty this feels, how even if sheâs under you and taking your cum sheâs not what you want her to be, what you need her to be.
But for a moment, a fleeting, blissful moment, you forget all that. Your hand leaves the back of her neck to join the other one at her hips, pulling her hips back against yours as you crest your peak, burying yourself inside her and letting go.
She moans as she feels you pulse inside her, each movement of your cock signifying another rope of warm, thick cum that fills her thirsty, needy little cunt. You give her a few more short, sharp thrusts before you bury yourself inside her for the last time. Sheâs so fucking full of you that your juices begin to overflow from her stuffed pussy, around the lips still tightly wrapped around your shaft, down your balls and her flushed thighs.
Time freezes, becomes irrelevant, and for a few blessed minutes you forget everything about the way you feel about Chou Tzuyu.
When your senses return and your brain has recovered long enough to process thought, the first thing youâre aware of is her voice.
âFuck,â sheâs saying, âGod, that was⊠god.â And then sheâs saying your name, and it makes you wince, as though hearing her say it caused you pain.Â
You slip out of her, and she winces herself - although hers is borne of the emptiness youâve left inside her and not out of any deeper emotion. She makes no effort to get off her hands and knees, staying frozen there, her ass in the air like some lewd testament to the sinful acts youâve just committed. You watch, absent-mindedly, as your cum drips from her well-fucked cunt, down her thighs, staining her bed.
Eventually she falls onto her side, facing you. Youâre sitting there, on your knees on the bed, watching her. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are glassy. Sheâs so perfect, so desirable - and you curse yourself for the millionth time that night that you lacked both the wisdom to find the words to say and the courage to say them.
But it doesnât matter, because youâre not the guy she wants, not the one sheâs waiting for a call from. And thatâs when it hits you, dark and ugly and painful - you wonder if she were pretending you were him this whole time, pretending it was his cock fucking her, making her cum, cumming in her, using you like some fucktoy replacement for the real thing.
You turn away from her, as though the very sight of her were somehow painful to you, despite the fogginess of your post-orgasm haze. Before you know it, youâre climbing off the bed, finding your pants on the floor, throwing them on.
âAre you-?â she begins, her words soft as you find your t-shirt and button-up, throwing them on.
âI, uh, I have to get back to the party,â you stammer, hoping she would buy your flimsy excuse for an exit. But you had to leave, had to do anything to get out of that room. The thought of losing her, the thought of this being your last time together - it hurt, it was too much, and every fibre of you screamed to get away from it.
âOh,â she says, softly. You turn to find that sheâs sitting up on the bed now, her arms wrapping around her knees.
âThereâs, uh, my friend, he, he introduced me to this girl,â you mumble, fabricating a story, trying to come up with some way to hurt her, just as sheâs hurt you. âI told her Iâd, uh, get back to the party. She likes me, I think,â you add, the words tasting like ashes in your mouth.
âRight,â she says, surprise and something else in her low voice. Her knees come up closer to her chest. âSo, um, hey, about that guy-â
âGood luck with him,â you spit, cutting her off, afraid of what you might hear if you let her continue. âUh, let me know how it goes.â
Thereâs a short silence, one that drags on for longer than youâd like. You donât look up at her, unable to muster the courage to do so. You fumble with your shirt buttons, fingers numb.
âSure,â she says, finally. âI⊠I think Iâm going to call him tomorrow.â
âRight. I, uh, I should go. Iâll. Uh. Iâll talk to you later,â you say, as you turn towards her bedroom door.
You think you hear her say something, a couple of words.
Your eyes finally look up at her, but sheâs looking away. You look for confirmation on her face, but sheâs turned away from you, and her expression is unreadable. She suddenly looks small and vulnerable.
âDid- did you say something, Tzuyu?â
âNothing,â she says, a hand pressed against the side of her face, her eyes shut, as though she were suddenly fighting a headache. But just as quickly it appears, itâs gone, and Tzuyu manages a weak smile, even if thereâs no happiness or mirth in her eyes. âItâs nothing. Be safe getting back to the party, okay? And donât forget your jacket - itâs cold outside. Let me know when you get there.â
âI, I will, Tzuyu,â you say, words shaky, unsure. âSee ya.â
You leave her, leave her hot, stifling apartment.
The night is cold.
Authorâs Note: High five to you if you guess what she said.
909 notes
·
View notes
Text
#INTRO2MUNCH101
summ. when suguru âeat it off the boneâ geto actually turns out to be suguru âflaps the left lip until she calls it a nightâ geto, he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about his skills. . . talk about a rude awakening.
cw. explicit content. foul language. fem!reader. college!au. eventual smut (but not in the way you think. . .) mild modern lingo. allusions to music artists. cunningulĆ«s. male masturbation. reader has a belly piercing. sheâs also depicted mean by the boys. gojo cameos bc i canât not mention him. tattoo artist!geto. substance consumption. lowkeyyy self-indulgent reader. 10k wc.
rena's note. this is a spin-off to p power, so iâd suggest reading that first to understand the correlation!
suguru geto is a simple man.
your pleasure is his pleasure. heâs always prided himself on being a pro at the art of cunningulus. honestâ heâs always left with swollen lips, a heavily sprayed face and a solid five star ratings at the end of his work. his jaw feels tired out, scalp burning from consistent hair tugs, and his breathing uneven from lack of oxygen. but at the feel of plush thighs squeezing his face and the repetition of his name flowing into the air before getting squirted on, he remembers itâs always worth it.
no pain no gain, right?
wrong.
because here he finds himself, a hefty hour in since he first dove in between your soft legs, and thereâs been absolutely no development. sprawled on your back on his sheets, arm slung over your eyes, and your breathing even. you look fucking bored, and his heart is sinking to his ass.
geto will use every trick he has in the book. heâs noticed overtime that girls have different bodies, therefore he needs different tactics to stimulate those bodies. he nips at your puffy bud, sucking on your clit for external pleasure. no use. fine, then heâll push your thighs up some more for a deeper penetration of his fingers in your cuntâ still no use. the only sounds being produced are his mouth slipping against his own saliva at your pussy because he canât even get you wet enough.
the pit in his stomach grows larger. he wonders if maybe youâre just the silent type? heâs come across those before.
heâs getting nervous out of his mind, so shaky and uncoordinated that his hand slips and meets your lips for the umpteenth timeâ and only then do you release a guttural groan, the very first sound youâve made in a long ass time. waitâ
âdid. . . did you cum?â he pants, pulling his sticky lips away from yours. his face feels moist, blood rushing all in his head and heâs lightheaded. but still, he has to know.
you push yourself up to your elbows, annoyance clear as day. heâs yet to seen this look on a girl after pulling every card known on the table, âyeah. . . to the wrong fucking house.â
oh fuck.
â â â
he first spotted you chatting it up with your friends on the schoolâs soccer field, on a random tuesday afternoon, and heâs been hooked on you ever since.
the universe played a funny game, and he realized university truly is a small ass world. amongst your friends, he noticed a familiar face. one heâs been hearing and seeing of one too many times lately, on multiple separate and traumatic occasionsâ gojoâs girlfriend. suguru found himself bonding with her due to their familiar point of interestâ that being gojoâ and believes he can now make of her a friend.
geto watches his best friendâs eyes shimmer and he flashes his infamous million dollar smile. he really is obsessed with his girlfriend and she doesnât even knowâ and geto finds himself wishing he had somebody heâd be this ecstatic over. must be nice.
âiâm gonna go say hi to my girl real quick,â gojo taps at his shoulder, and geto nods. heâs cool on it, heâll wait back here until heâs done, or can make his way to his next class depending on whatever gojo and his girlfriend arrange. âyou cominâ?â
âiâm probably gonna head to our next lecture.â geto voices out, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. he feels gojo peeking over his shoulder, in which he assumes to verify if that would be necessary.
over forty-five minutes. damn it.
âthatâs mad pointless, class doesnât start till more than half an hour,â gojo says, and geto doesnât see himself waiting around that long for a lecture. no way, âjust comeâ her friends are chill.â
fuck it, he goes. naturally, gojo is all over his girl and her friends expect it. geto does give them a little wave when gojo introduces him. one of the girls mention having heard of him through a friendâ something about a failed talking stage. mad federal, and the sheepish chuckle geto offers when you give him an unreadable look makes him want to crawl into a ditch.
so now you think heâs a whore. awesome.
and gojoâs smirk definitely doesnât help him out. he doesnât help out at all actually, so enamoured by his girlfriend that he leaves geto to fend for himself against a pack of wolves (read: nosy girls). he replies only when spoken to, nods when necessary and throws in a few âthatâs crazy,â to which the girls fail to pick up heâs out of words to say.
well, everyone except you.
youâre quiet. in fact, the whole time, you havenât said shit to him. you sit back and observe, occasionally typing on your macbook, or reapplying your lip combo. you didnât have any words to say to him. even when your friends would talk to you, you gave them short answers and went back to listening to whatever was playing in your airpods. he could tell from that small interaction alone, you were the mean one out of your clique.
and fuck if that didnât make him want you more. there was just something about mean women that made him want to break through their fake ass exteriors and watch them turn all soft and chummy for him.
blame it on his corruption kink.
gojo confirms his thoughts when theyâre finally on their way to class. he kissed his girl goodbye and waved off her friends, to which they all (minus you) collectively cooed, âbyeee gojooo!â which he found odd, but kept silent. he gave them a small nod before following his best friend.
theyâre a few steps in the science building when the words slip before he can help it, ultimately cutting gojoâs rambling off, âyo, who was that girl?â
gojo glances at him before chuckling, âthere was like seven of âem. which one?â
âthe quiet one.â
it throws him off guard when gojo laughs hard. like, really hard. it attracts the attention of bystanders, who give him a crazy look but gojo ignores. as if theyâd try to press him about his volumeâ the two were pretty adored around campus.
geto does find his reaction quite interesting, to which he cocks a brow and offers a chuckle of his own, âwhat?â
âoh, you definitely mean y/n,â when his laughter dies down, he finally answers. he lifts his shades to his hairline to swipe a tear. âsheâs mean as fuck, bro.â
âright?!â geto laughs, tapping at gojoâs shoulder. it only charges gojoâs laughing fit back up, âi could tell from her vibe. she gives off those âmen ainât shitâ girlies on twitter. whole time, sheâs probably laid up in bed with one.â
âyou donât even knowww,â gojo holds his shoulder and shakes him a bit. geto does in fact know, because heâs dealt with girls like her before. theyâre always a good ass time. âshe does men dirty. like, absolutely dogs them. heard one phone call too many.â
oh? even better than he expected. sheâs probably the type that used to love hard before getting her heart trampled on and decided to seek revenge on all men. like, on some jenniferâs body shit. geto canât help but smirk, âlemme see for myself. put me on.â
gojo falters in his step. his grip on getoâs shoulders loosen and his expression changesâ not by much, but the once lighthearted smile switches to a skeptical one, âyou serious?â
geto lets out a soft sigh, shrugging gojoâs hands off his shoulders. âdonât start asking too much. i did a favour for you and your girl, didnât i?,â well, technically speaking it wasnât like his comment had been the deciding factor for the two, but it did open gojoâs eyes. âyou owe me one.â
âi donât owe you shit,â gojo laughs, throwing his arm around geto anyways, âbuuut youâre my boy and iâm not stingy. iâll see what i can do, i know youâve been getting a lil jealous of wifey and i.â
âshut the fuck up.â getoâs chuckles contradict his statement.
from that point on, itâs smooth sailing. gojo texts his girl asking if sheâs seeing anybody. they have a little back and forth because his girlfriend assumes heâs asking for himselfâ which gojo gets all dramatic and throws geto under the bus for free. welp! it all worked out anyway since after he and gojo parted, youâd thought he was fine shyt. judging from your character, he doesnât exactly take gojoâs words for what they are.
but heâll take the opening, itâs as good as any.
time to plot.
â â â
the second encounter was purely coincidental. and simultaneously embarrassing.
see, geto prides himself on his mysterious actâ granted he was anything but. people see all that is gojo and automatically assume that geto has to be the cool one. it creates a perfect balance, no?
havenât people heard of birds of a feather flock together?
so yes, heâs also a nerd. he typically enjoys spending his wednesday afternoons at dice board cafes because why not. itâs a chill, lowkey joint right off campus and not a lot of people gravitate towards, therefore the perfect spot to camp out before his evening lecture.
besides, his buddy choso works there and it gets him discounts. it isnât the only reason he shows up, but it does help a lot on his pockets. being a student is awful, financially.
geto sips on his choco latte through a straw, browsing through the board games pamphlet as he decides what heâs going to play today. most of these games are pretty pointless if he doesnât have an opponent, but he likes to think it helps develop his iq. he hears avenoir playing through the cafe and knows chosoâs on aux.
who else could be playing this toxic ass shit?
heâs torn choosing between snakes and ladders or chess when he hears chimes at the front door, signalling somebodyâs entered the establishment. he doesnât think much of it, going on about minding his business when he hears choso say your name.
the latte enters the wrong tube and he chokes.
geto collects himself quickly, wiping any stray liquid past his mouth as his head snaps up. youâre propped up against the counter, and though he canât see your face, he definitely recognizes your build. . . okay, yeah that sounds fucking pervy but if he stalked your page a few times, whoâs business is it but his own? itâs not like youâd know. granted, he had got caught up liking one of your older photos but he took the like right back!
he debates on walking up to you. how would that even work without seeming desperate? youâve been checking out all of his boxes so farâ your face, body and attitude (question mark) are all tens. he does want to get to know youâ at least be somebody in your life. but damn, why is he overthinking this? all he has to get up there and sweet talk you. heâs done this shit before.
âyo, suguru!â
shit.
purple orbs shift towards where his name was called, and lo and behold, there stands choso. and naturally, you look back to who was summoned, but godâ social media does not do your face justice. he last seen you about a week ago, and had nothing but your instagram and his memory to rely on.
he makes his way to the counter and ignores you. doesnât spare you a glance onceâ though he stands right at your side and watches you watching him through his peripheral. he nods at choso, âwhatâs up?â
choso, ever the genius, flicks his eyes between geto and you, before clearing his throat, âshoko just textedâ somethinâ about a new client. howâs the studio looking?â
âbooked all week,â geto answers truthfully, and he notices youâve shifted your gaze, âlittle to no openings. why though?â
choso hums, jolting down online orders into a little notebook, ânot even for a special friend?â
geto squints his eyes at that. there isnât anybody heâd call a special friend that hasnât already been booked or wouldnât have his number to squeeze in an appointment. granted, he is a dnd warrior but even his friends know of that quirk of his, âdepends. whoâs the special friend?â
âme.â and he feels his heart skip a beat. fuck. he tilts his head over to the side, and good lord, your face card gave every girl on campus runs for their money. seriously, your facial features complimented you in a way that told aphroditeâ the textbook definition of beautyâ to go fuck herself, and hard.
âoh?â geto cocks a brow, and lets his eyes roam up and down your frame. shameless, yes, but he has a reputation to uphold. your rest in face makes his own look like childâs play, âdidnât realize we were on special friends basis.â
you click your tongue, âdidnât realize we were on lurking spam accounts but pretend we donât exist the next day basis either,â you quip right back, picking at the white bow glued to your acrylics.
sassy. geto chuckles, now fully turning his body around to face you. you match his movements, and he toys with a ring on his middle finger, âguess you got me all figured out,â he pauses, shifting his gaze to choso, whoâs already eyeing him. âsounds like you wanted me to reach out.â
âboy please,â you scoff, pausing your nail inspection. you let your hand hang, âyou choked earlier because you heard my name. that corny nonchalant act isnât the flex youâre thinking it is,â a huff escapes your lips, and geto feels blood rushing to his face. âyour lurking ass was months deep into my page just a week agoâ did you find any men ainât shit vibes from the photo dump?â
choso stifles a laugh, and when geto looks at him, it dies into a cough. well damn, you really didnât hold anything back. read him like a book actuallyâ and it doesnât help that gojo canât keep his mouth shut for shit. it widens the grin on his face. he thinks he likes you.
âwell,â geto smirks, âcanât say i haveâ means thereâs still an opening.â
you furrow your brows, âoh? an opening to what exactly?â
âan appointment, of course,â he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. his locks are getting in his face, but the messy look always gets him compliments. might as well shoot his shot, âyou know. . .â leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, âfor a special friend.â
his double entendre definitely doesnât go unnoticed by you. he watches how, despite the mean mugging, thereâs a glint of mischief in your eyes. youâre squinting just slightly, almost as if you were weighing out the pros and cons. geto wonât break the eye contact firstâ heâs on a mission. he hopes the tired eyes look will be on his side this time.
tattoo or dick appointmentâ he would one hundred percent make an opening for you. anything to get his hands on your body.
âare we still talking about the tattoo parlour or . . .â
both you and he turn to choso, whoâs watching the situation unfold. just count on him to ruin the mood, whether the obliviousness was feigned or not. choso tightens his brows at the look geto shoots him, âwhat?â
âiâm gonna head out,â you grab at your handbag, hopping of the seat. nicely played choso. you gather your items and slip them in your purse, sliding a few bucks across the counter. choso grabs the bills and stick them in the tip jar, nodding at her. âcatch you in poly sci?â
âif you donât skip again.â choso snorts and you flip him off, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you turn on your heel and make your way towards the exit, ultimately dismissing geto. that doesnât feel too nice, he should probably stop that bad habit.
he rises to his feet before he can help it. his hand grabs at your wrist and notices how much smaller it seems in comparaison to his, and he hates the next words that leave his mouth, âwhat about me?â
you glance down at his hold on you, before looking back up at him, âwhat about you?â your face says everything your lips havenâtâ youâre getting the ick.
he wants to wince. okay, yeah that was corny, âwhen do i get to see you?â
you drag out a mini hum, your gaze dancing over his silver chain around his collarbone, âdunno. you have my socials so i assume in the next hour.â
he tilts his head to the side, and the pad of his thumb grazes over your smooth skin. he doesnât fail to notice the way your hand stiffens under his touch, âso if i slide in your dms in the next hour, i can expect an answer?â
a snort leaves your chest, and he canât tell if itâs a condescending one or an amused one. what he does know, however, is that heâs going to be seeing you sometime soon. you take your hand back into your possession before laying it in the dead centre of his chest, pushing him back just slightly, âiâll see you around, geto.â
his eyes trail over your figure, every step you take out of the establishment, slightly starstruck by the entirety of youâ your boldness. the thrill he was beginning to feel felt like a high. he hasnât met anybody this entertaining in a while.
âyouâre so fucking corny.â he thinks he hears choso insult him from behind. he doesnât pay him any mind, despite the middle finger that tips towards the ceiling. partynextdoor blasts in the cafe, specifically freak in you, and he hates how he finds himself relating to the lyrics,
room full of beautiful women but he only wants one.
â â â
âyou stalking me, pretty?â
âsure,â you nod your head, raking through the items on the clothing rack. you donât spare him a single glance, picking a top off the rack and inspecting it, âif stalking means visiting the busiest thrift store on the busiest hour in the busiest city.â
geto lets out a small laugh, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargos. you make him feel like a nuisance, like heâs a pest wasting your time. ironic, seeing as he wasnât that much of a bother just last night, when youâd been indulging him in your inbox, âof course youâre the thrifting type.â
you pause your actions, price tag in your fingers as you side eye him through locks of your hair, âand youâre not?â
âdidnât mean it in a bad way, sweetheart.â geto shrugs, pulling off a cropped baby tee and bringing towards you. it has sequins sewn in the material, the gems writing out juicy couture. âthis would suit youâ belly piercing and whatnot.â
the top is cute, there was no denying so. a pretty shade of pink that suited your complexion, but letting his ego inflate bigger than it already was out of the question. he could tell your thought process from the judgmental look you offered, âoh godâyouâre one of those fake ass, streetwearing fashionistas, arenât you?â
geto blinks a few times, before letting out a sincere laugh. heâs been called a multitude of things before, but that one was new, âyou got all that from me suggesting you buy this juicy couture tee? donât all girls fiend over this vintage shit?â
âitâs that corny ass personality of yours,â you grab the shirt, throwing it in your cart. he wants to make a comment on that, but you beat him to the chase, âthe phoney nonchalant act, the streetwear, your insta aestheticâ youâre so scripted.â
âmy insta aesthetic?â he repeats, and doesnât miss a step to catch up to you. your hands are back on the handle of your shopping cart, and if the way his elbows bump into your shoulders bothers you, you donât make point in commenting on it. âwhoâs the lurker now, hm?â
you roll your eyes, pushing the strolley ahead, âdonât let it get to your big ass head. your feed screams youâre those toxic ass brent faiyaz wannabes,â he watches your fingertips rake through more clothings that pass your way, before you shoot him a glance, âlet me guessâ he showed on your spotify wrapped.â
his silence speaks volumes, and you click your tongue, âsee? scripted.â
âand what about you?â geto counters when you make a pit stop. you pull away from your cart when a denim skirt catches your eye. you lift the skirt up to your eyes, before looking over your shoulder, cocking a brow.
âwhat about me?â
âthe tweet reposts, the song choices for your highlights, the whole spiritual baddie persona,â he presses behind you, his chest meeting your back. he rests his chin atop your head, purple eyes landing on the clothing article thatâs lowering in your hold, âif my page gives brent then yours definitely gives jhene.â
youâre mute for a second, and you chuck the skirt into the cart. you pull away from beneath him, spinning on your feet to face him, and youâve got a scowl on your lips, âwhatâs wrong with jhene?â
âand you call me the toxic one.â geto pokes at your cheek. you swipe his hand away, and he laughs, âdonât get me wrong thoughâ she makes good music. but letâs not act like sheâs all innocent either,â his gaze lowers to your glossy lips, the fullness of the pair hypnotic, âa real freak. should i call you my pussy fairy?â
âdo not,â you reply, weaving around him to make your way back to your cart. geto laughs, snatching a few things of the racks before dumping them in your stuff. you give him a deadpanned look and he whistles it off, feigning ignorance. âjheneâs a lovergirl. thought i was part of the men ainât shit community.â
âyouâre not gonna let that go, are you?â geto sighs. he owes gojo another thump in the head.
you roll your eyes, âthank your homeboy for that.â
âtwo things can be true at once,â geto fiddles with the hem of his jacket. heâs back at walking step by step with you, and you havenât told him to fuck off yet, so heâs going to milk the opportunity out. âyouâre mean but a lovergirl. you hate men but a real freak with them. right or wrong?â
you halter in your steps, and getoâs now a few steps ahead of you, so he looks over his shoulder to meet your bored expression, âi know youâre not trying to read me in the middle of value village.â
âno better time than the present,â he smiles, one that creases a dimple in his cheeks. âcome on upâ what are you waiting for?â
you stare at him some more, inhaling sharply, âmind you, i never invited you to join me,â you shake your head but comply regardless. cute, looks like youâre enjoying his company more than youâre letting on.
so he graces you his presence some more. he shops along with you, sneaks clothes into your cart when youâre distracted and asks you stupid questions. itâs a good timeâ to him at least, being able to get to know you some more without interruptions. naturally, you feign that his company is the bane of your existence, but he doesnât miss the twitch of your lips when he taps his card into the reader at the check out.
hell yeah heâs got money to spend and is willing to show off if it means getting on your good side.
itâs only after he helps you bag your shit into your car, that he realizes this is where the both of you part ways. it annoys him slightly, but he doesnât need to overstep his boundaries. he closes your trunk and makes his way to the driverâs side, where youâre already buckled up.
he taps at your window and the glass rolls down all the way, to which he leans forward. heâs in your line of sight now and you sigh, tilting your head sideways, âwhat?â
âdo i get a goodbye kiss?â geto teases, honest, the boyish smirk he offers accentuating the playful undertone. the last thing he expects is you shifting in your seat, pushing yourself up and peaking your head out the window.
his smirk drops, brows jumping to his hairline. youâre really fucking close now, and for a split second he thinks youâre actually going to do it. he can see the flecks of colours swimming in your orbs, the tip of your nose bumps into his and your breath fans his cupidâs bow.
fuck, you smell really good. he bets you taste even better. his mouth is running dry, mindlessly darting his tongue out to wet his own lips. he doesnât realize heâs let himself lean into your space, eyes narrowing on your mouth parting over his.
heâs pulled out of his trance when two fingers press at his forehead and push. he blinks his lashes, snapping back to reality as you sit back into your seat. you look amusedâ as if youâd played the funniest game right in his face and heâd been the star player.
âiâll see you around, geto.â
and you drive off.
â â â
âcome back in a few weeks for a checkup. weâll make sure the healing process is running smoothly. iâll catch you soon.â
he lets out a tired sigh when the door finally closes, slumping into his seat and shuts his eyes. heâs exhaustedâ having woken up early for lectures and labs to back to back appointments with clients. this time around, the parlour is always booked and busy. students find it the perfect timing to get tatted to let it heal before showing it off in the summer.
itâs smart for them but idiotic for him. midterms are up, and the only time he has to study is in between appointments. he slides off his gloves and drags his seat towards his desk, redirecting his attention focus towards the blinding screen.
he feels a headache building at his temple, sipping at his iced coffee to keep him energized. contradicting, sure, but you didnât have the luxury to be a beggar and a chooser when you were a full time student. the parlour he ran resided in his loft apartment, on the second floor. he enjoyed the comfort of his own home, spacious room and wide windows compared to outside stores.
his cat, nanako, purrs at his feet and he feels his heart swell. if there was one weakness he had in this world, itâd be her. he picks her up from the floor, presses her at his rib cage and nuzzles his nose in her fur.
âhi baby,â geto coos, and nanako lets out a sound. he continues to coddle her, fluffing her fur and rubbing at her ears, âitâs been pretty lively in here, hasnât it? i knowww,â he coos, and as if nanako understands his words, she makes a pitiful sound that slightly shatters his heart.
geto decides to place her on his lap, her company serving plenty of motivation as he rolls back to his desk. he grabs the remote to his built-in speakers, turning the volume higher, before locking back in. exams are full of crap, and words are starting to jumble on his screenâ heâs beginning to contemplate if this education shit is even worth the stress.
heâs an hour deep in jolting notes down on his ipad when he hears a knock at his front door. he scrunches his brows and glances at his agendaâ he isnât due for an appointment until another few hours. he sits it out, starting to believe heâd maybe imagined the sound. he knows it isnât gojo since heâs celebrating an anniversary with his girl, and any other friend wouldâve called to let him know theyâre outside.
probably some jehovah witness shit, he thinks to himself, fingers hovering over his speaker remote to crank the volume back up. he turns back to his laptop screen, petting nanako mindlessly when his ipad flashes an instagram notification.
yourstruly.yn: open up
he jumps to his feet, chair rolling back. nanako flies to his desk, landing on all fours as she hisses at him for his suddenness. geto grabs her and kisses her ear, âsorry baby,â before sitting her on the floor. she walks off to her mini bean bag right at the foot of his desk, and he senses an attitude coming from her.
damn, heâd forgotten he squeezed you in last night in the midst of his sweet talking. that was truly a stupid move, he was already behind on studying, and because he likes to think with his head instead of his actual head, heâd fall even further behind.
he checks around the flatâ picks up stray wrappers and fixes throw pillows, arranges his sheets. he was a clean man for the most partâ he had been so distracted with his studies that there wasnât much to dirty in the first place. his candles had already been lit so he knew the place smelled fine. heâs pretty positive his loft is clean enough to leave a good first impression.
he fixes loose hairs and straightens out his hoodie and sweats. thank fuck heâd showered not too long agoâ heâs beginning to understand why his mother was always so insistent on being clean in case of random pop ups.
when he does finally open the door, there you stood. it was pretty chilly outside this time around, so he wasnât surprised by the harsh wind flowing in and the clutch of your coat in your hold. your nose began reddening, and you sniffled, scowling from the cold.
youâre so cute, he sends you a smile, âhey.â
âhi,â you replied, sniffling again. âyou ever planning on letting me in?â
âdunno,â he crosses his arms over his chest. he leans against the doorframe, ignoring the way he was starting to feel the frosty wind setting in his bones, âmaybe if you ask nicely.â
you shoot him a deadpanned look, âmove.â
âno.â geto smiles, âtry again.â
âmove, now.â a small pout is starting to form on your lips. he really liked testing your patience, since it always seemed to run low. you mustâve met your matchâ because geto always had time to fuck around.
âclose, but not quite.â
âoh my goddd,â you groan, and thatâs when he decides to let up. it really is colder than a bitch outside and heâd already kept you waiting while tidying up. he lets out a chuckle when you turn to the side, âiâm leavingâ too damn cold for this.â
âalright, iâm playing,â geto widens the door. you stop your movements and glare at him. he aims an arm towards the inside of his loft, âdonât go, come in.â
you grumble something beneath your breath but comply, walking right past him. he follows behind you, shutting the door close and is immediately greeted back with warmth. you slip your shoes off and place them on the rack, before stepping in further into his apartment.
he slides his hands into his sweatpantsâ pockets, catching up to you in the living room. your head is tilted upwards as you inspect the place though you remain in place. he stands beside you, bumping his shoulder into your arm, âso? up to your standards?â
youâre quiet for a while, letting your eyes roam around as the words build in your mind, âitâs typical,â you shrug but donât elaborate. youâve been staring at an art piece heâd done first year when he was fried out of his mind. you shift your gaze back to him, âwhere do i put my shit?â
âyou can leave it in my bedroom, if thatâs fine.â geto suggests and you nod wordlessly, to which he leads you to the second floor. heâs walking up the stairs and prays he doesnât fall flat on his faceâ his socks can be a real bitch sometimes.
you both make it to his bedroom, with you trailing a little behind. he grabs a hanger from his mobile clothing rack, stretching an arm out to you, âiâll hang your jacket here.â
you slide off the coat from your frame and hand it to him, to which he hangs on the rack. you circle around his bedroom with your tote on your shoulder, while he makes his way back to next to his desk. itâs pretty quiet for the most part, besides the music playing gently in the background.
your gaze lands on the cluttered items on his desk, noticing the half empty cup of coffee, notebooks and ipad on display, âdid i catch you at a bad time?â
âhonestly? yeah,â geto shrugs, before motioning at your tote bag. you slip it off and hand it to him, to which he sits at his nightstand, âbut itâs my fault anyway, i squeezed you in a busy time. you know how exam season gets.â
âi can always reschedule,â you offer, checking your phone screen for the date, âitâs not that deep.â
âi donât want you to leave,â geto slumps back into his seat and heaves out a sigh. he spins the chair around to catch you giving him a flat look. he leans back in his seat and spreads his thighs, smirking, âwould you stay?â
âdepends. are you going to be studying?â you quip, crossing your arms back to your chest.
geto ponders on what to say next. itâs not like he doesnât want to tatt you up, but he really is caught in a bind. he also doesnât want you to leaveâ not when heâs been wanting to see you since the last time heâd seen you. does he prioritize his wants or his needs?
he hums, âiâll do whatever you want me to.â
you roll your eyes, scoffing as you make your way to his nightstand. for a second, he thinks youâre getting ready to leave and a weird feeling of disappointment settles in his gut. instead, you grab the bag and sit on the edge of his bed, pulling out your macbook and crossing your legs.
he smiles at that, âattagirl.â
âcorny.â you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip as you begin typing away.
thereâs a comfortable silence that fills the room. heâs back to browsing through his lecture notes, noting down valuable information and memorizing terminology. you donât say anything either, but the sound of your nails typing at your keyboard blends well with his r&b playlist playing. sounds like youâre writing down an essay or report, depending on whatever your major is.
about half an hour into the silence, does he decide to break it. he looks over his shoulder to where youâre settled on his bed, âyou good?â he checks up on you, and you let out a burnt out sigh. he knows exactly how youâre feeling.
âi guess,â you huff, twirling your necklace. your eyes are stuck on your screen, brows creasing into a scowl, âthis shit is frying my brain though.â
âwhat are you writing?â he indulges, dropping his apple pen back onto his desk and spins in his seat to face you. maybe heâs also in due of a breakâ heâd rather be talking to you anyway.
âthis crim report,â you answer, picking at your nail, âitâs not exactly hard but mad lengthy. i have to write a ten page report based on this article and how it contradicts societal norms.â
âten pages?â geto whistles, rubbing at his chin. heâs settled deeper in his seat, naturally manspreading. youâre much better than him, he wouldâve given up before even startingâ reports were not his thing, âhow far are you in?â
âi started this morning,â you hum, âso iâm four pages in.â
geto nods, âand when is it due?â
âtomorrow night.â you push your laptop off your lap. you close the screen shut and stretch out your legs, releasing a breathy moan as you relax your thighs. âiâll do this shit laterâ my headâs starting to hurt.â
geto swears heâs never been so in sync in thought. he dismisses the idea of studying the second you had closed your macbook. probably a bad idea but at the moment, he couldnât care any less, âwant some entertainment?â
you cock a brow, âdonât say no stupid shit.â
âtwenty one questions,â geto speaks nonetheless and finds himself beaming brightly when you scoff, âcanât a guy want to get to know you better?â
you ease yourself on his bed, slumping into his sheets as you exhale. you shift onto your sideâ a sinful curve at your sideâ tucking your knees and lean your head into your palm, âoh fuck off,â a breathless laugh and nanako makes her presence known, hopping right by you in the space between your body and the edge of the bed, âdidnât know you had a cat. sheâs cute.â
âhowâd you know she was a she?â geto wonders, surprised just slightly by how welcoming nanako was around you. she purred when you stroke at her fur, nuzzling further into your chest. nanako hated everyoneâ especially gojo, who unironically visited the most.
âinstinct,â you shrugged but thereâs a faint smile on your lips. not directed towards him, but his baby, âi also have a catâ heâs a fucking menace though.â
thatâs one thing in common already, âlike mother like son,â geto grins lazily when you flip him off mindlessly, and when you raise nanako in both your hands, heâs ready to warn you she isnât a big fan of sudden movementsâ but when she mewls, the same sound she makes when geto brings home a new toy, the words die down in his throat.
he observes you both silently. you cradle nana as if she were a newborn infant, adoring and loving yet simultaneously careful and steadily. youâre cooing, calling her a sweet girl and rubbing at her ear, and nanako accepts you rather easilyâ too easily.
âwoah.â was this those non-sexual turn ons people spoke about? for somebody so mean, you were oddly gentle with pets. he liked thatâ really liked that, so much that he pulls his phone out and snaps a photo of you two. but of course, because the universe loves to see him fumble, the flash goes off.
your head snaps to the side and he freezes. you narrow your eyes at him, slowly lowering nanako, âdid you justââ
âso!â geto cuts you off, chucking his phone back onto his desk. it makes a loud cluttering sound, damn near knocks his drink all over, but ignores it, âmy turn. whatâs your catâs name?â
âmilo. and donât cut me offââ
âmilo the menace,â he cuts you off regardless, not wanting to have to decipher just what exactly possessed him to do that. heâs never done so, and he wasnât about to explain why heâd done it just now. deflecting king! âi need to see the little guy. got any pics?â
you huff, extending a hand behind you to find your phone. when you clutch onto the device, you swing your legs off the bedside, always careful with nanako clinging to your lap. you lay her down on the floor, much to her dismay, before making your way towards him.
his eyes are stuck on your body before his mind can tell him to stop. not like it mattered much, your own eyes glued to your phone screen as you searched for the pictures heâd asked. youâve got a matching tracksuit onâ though the hoodie is cropped, thus exposing your navel piercing. heâd always had a thing for those, the pretty good jewel dangling below the button.
it didnât help that your thong straps sat atop your waist.
he spreads his legs further open, and you stop right in between. for a moment, youâre stuck on your phone, and geto really wants to get those thighs straddling him. you look delectableâ heâd pin your knees to your damn ears, sprawled on your back, and eat you out until you pleaded him to stop.
your hair was pulled back into a bun, and from this angle, he spotted scripture at the column of your neck. there was wording inked in arabic, and he made a mental note to ask you what it meant later.
geto leans back into his seat when you fold forwards, and he gets a good whiff of your vanilla scented perfume, tingling his senses in the best way, âfound it?â
you nod your head, swiping through your gallery, âyeah, my bad,â you have a folder named âmimiâ and as expected, was filled off candid photos of your cat. he pays attention as you slide your finger on your screen, selfies of you both in the morning passing by.
âcute,â he isnât talking about the cat, and his gaze flicks from the screen to your face. thereâs still a considerate amount of space between you both, but he can see your eye colour much clearer this close up. you blink your lashes at him and he smirks, âanything else you wanna show me?â
you sniff, âdonât be gross.â
âi meant of milo,â geto definitely didnât mean of milo. you cock a brow skeptically, and he mirrors the look, though the smile on his face grows, âwhat a cute lil thing,â his voice lowers and his words trail off. thereâs a beat of a pause for a while, and his gaze falls on the plumpness of your lips, âyou gonna let me pet your kitty?â
another beat of silence. youâre staring at his lips, and he wonders what youâre thinking. he can tell youâve picked up on what heâs laying down (hopefully you in the next few minutes) but he canât tell what your next move will be.
âdepends. . .â a soft whisper, and he feels your breath fanning over his cupidâs bow. you flick your eyes back at him, and he finally understands the whole siren eyes shit. through lidded eyes, your stare is intenseâ simultaneously pulling him in closer while pushing him back. youâre toying with him, and the hand he slides up from your thigh to your ass is enough fuel. âyou any good?â
he brings a second hand to the other ass cheek, and urges you onto his lap. you comply, looping your arms at the back of his neck. he feels your nails grazing at his scalp and he holds back a lethal shudder. your weight feels amazing against himâ his hard on poking and making its presence well aware.
âiâd like to think i am,â he knows he is, but playing humble always goes a long way. he lets his hands run over the cup of your ass, trails back up to your hips, and slides a finger beneath the thong strap. when he snaps the material at your skin, your back arches and you press your chest against his own.
âwell,â you exhale when he noses into the crook of your neck, right above your tattoo. heâs littering wet kisses at your hot skin, your taste ever so sweet against his tongue. god, you must taste divine. at your jugular, heâs able to imprint your perfume into his mind. âonly one way to find out.â
geto hums at that, relishing in the way you moan at a particular suck, and focus on nibbling at that spot once more. youâre tilting your head for easier access, hips grinding against his own for better friction. your hands are soft and cautiousâ they trail from his nape down to his chest, and further down to his waistband.
heâs on go, ready for whatever timing youâre on. though, it doesnât take a genius to figure out by the way your fingertip traces right above his pelvis, that youâre both on the same page. he drags his lips from the column of your neck up to your jaw, and stops right above your parted lips.
he has another cocky remark on the tip of his tongue, in typical suguru fashion, but you beat him to the chase, glossy lips pressing against his. the kiss is short and definitely leaves him wanting more when you pull back as soon as youâd leaned inâ but youâre a mere centimetre away.
you whisper, not before another kiss, âdonât disappoint me, suguru.â
and heâs never ran into bed so fast.
â â â
the door slams shut.
heâs left with a painfully hard reminder in his sweats that he fucked up bad. he thinks he dissociated a little between the labia flapping to the coat zipping. itâs only when he notices that instead of hearing lip smacking sounds, he hears bryson tillerâs lame ass (no shade, his ego is simply wounded), that you really left.
fuck.
geto rushes back to his bedroom, the walk of shame up the steps enough to make him want to jump offâ as he takes out his phone, immediately goes through his contact list and presses on the name. it rings twice before the call gets picked up.
âyooo!â
âyou still busy?â geto asks, voice hoarse as he flops down on the edge of the bedâ his now empty bed. damn.
ânah, just dropped off wifey,â gojo replies. he hears music playing faintly in the back, as well as the sounds of honking. he must still be in the car, âwhy, whatâs up?â
âi fucked up.â geto sighs, running a hand over his face.
âoh?â he isnât surprised to find out gojoâs surprised. heâs still surprised by how the events turned out and itâs barely been ten minutes, let alone five. âsay no more, iâm on my way.â
geto hangs up. he throws the phone away, before falling flat onto his bed. he picks up your scent on his sheets, your warmth slowly disappearingâ another painful reminder he messed up. where heâs expecting a wet patch of anything on his duvets, he finds nothing. zip. nada.
his eyes fall shut, âshit.â
â â â
âand thatâs pretty much the gist of it all.â
he exhales a cloud of smoke. more silence. getoâs starting to get sick of all this silence. it was radio silence with you and now even more radio silence from gojo. his hand never stops to rub at nanako, whoâs been serving as a cuddling partner in this grand moment of crisis. the only person to ever have his back.
so, geto knew that confiding in his best friend this secret of his would be risky for a multitude of reasons. for starters, geto never fucks up. this would be ultimate blackmail content for him, and geto honestly doesnât blame him. for two, he was just giving gojo shit about never having eaten pussy. thatâs just downright humiliating. and for three, he has a girlfriend who he doesnât keep anything from. on top of thatâ his girlfriend is friends with the main culprit here.
overall a bad idea. he does it nonetheless, because satoru is his best friend despite it all. he isnât too shocked when the silence is filled with bellyaching laughter, though.
âwaitâ iâm cryinggg,â more laughter. gojoâs now kicked his feet off the couch and is doubling forward. his shades bounce off his head and hit the leg of the coffee table. he doesnât pause his laughing fit one bit, not even when geto throws a throw pillow his way.
it bounces off his big head and geto scoffs, bringing the joint back to his lips, âoh fuck off.â
âmy fault man,â gojo apologizes though he doesnât sound apologetic. heâs leaning forward to grab his shades back, and heâs back to swiping stray tears. âthat was a good laughâ shit.â
geto hums at that, extending the blunt towards him,âglad to hear my misery has brought you entertainment.â
âsee, you get it!â gojo jokes, welcoming the joint. seems like he got cocky, however, his laughing mood not quite over as he inhales. he quickly chokes on the smoke, which fades back into cackling, âoh shitââ
geto sneers, annoyance quickly rising, âquit fucking around or pass it back.â he was being pissy, yes, but his pride had been curb stomped. and it hadnât even been an hour ago!
ânah, nah, iâm good,â gojo waves him off, despite his free hand tapping at his chest. he collects himself soon enough, and takes another hit. this time itâs successful. geto lowkey hoped it would get caught in his throat again.
âsooo,â gojo drags out, melting into the couch, âwhat now.â
âwhat now?â geto parrots.
âwhatâs the next move?â gojo elaborates, fingertip tapping at the blunt, and ashes fall into the tray. the end of the stick crumbles in the same way getoâs ego had earlier. âyouâre gonna keep letting her think you suck at giving head?â
geto throws his head back and sighs tiredly, âwhat else is there to do?â he hears the sound of sizzling in the background, âi fumbled bad, bro. you donât think she already posted about me in her girlsâ private story?â more sizzling and exhaling, âiâm the storytime of the day!â
he feels gojo nudge his thigh with his foot. he looks back and the joint is presented to him. he gladly accepts it.
âwhat even happened?â gojo wonders. and oh boy, if that isnât the question of the day. geto is still trying to find the answer to that. had it been out of nervousness? had he gotten too cocky? had it been her?
âi honestly wish i could answer that,â geto slips the roach into his mouth. âi didnât feel nervous until after i realized she wasnât fazed,â he drags out a hit and ghost inhales, âmaybe it was a sign from aboveâ to shut the fuck up sometimes.â
âmaybe,â gojo snorts, throwing his legs over getoâs lap. nanako hisses at the intrusion, but the white haired man ignores her, âdonât let yourself go out sad like this. hit her back upâ whatever happened to loving challenges?â
âwhat kind of fucked up ass challenge is this?â geto mumbles, mainly to himself.
âif i was in your shoesâ which iâd never be,â because heâs gojo, he feels the need to add, âiâd put my pride aside and talk to her. like no homo shit, but youâre a great eaterâ yeah, no, iâm taking that back instantly.â
geto looks as horrified as he feels, âquickly, even.â
of course, gojo laughs but proceeds, âthe point is, you know youâre good at it. everybody fucks up once in a whileâ donât let it define you though. think of it as a minor setback for a major comebackâ if you care enough, youâll put your pride aside and do something about it. if youâre this down about it, then it must mean something to you.â
geto canât tell anymore whether gojoâs talking about the failed pussy eating attempt or you. regardless, he knows thereâs truth to his words. has to be the weed talking.
âand who made you the pussy connoisseur?â geto snorts, pressing the bud of his joint in the tray. it sizzles weakly as he kills it, starting to feel that high course through his veins.
gojo sighs dreamily, âwhy my lovely lady, of course.â
âlooks like she taught you well,â geto relaxes himself into the tight space of the couch, settling nanako on his chest. itâs now his turn to nudge gojo with his foot, his sock-cladded toe digging at his jaw. âwoulda never expected this from a rookie just a few months ago.â
âwell duh,â gojo swipes his foot away, âi aced that course. got my phD in cunningulusophy and all. even won valedictorian.â
geto laughs, resting his lids. he was starting to feel sleepy, indica will do that to you, âenroll me in whatever class you tookâ i may need to slut myself out for extra credit. my profâs a tough nut to bust.â
âintro to munch 101,â gojo nods his head, shutting his eyes close as well. thereâs a comfortable silence that fills the air for a while. and despite the fact that his sight manipulated, he could hear the smirk dripping off his tone, âif you ever need a letter of recommendation, i got youâ alumniâs honour.â
âoh fuck off,â a mixed harmony of laughter and vibrating chests.
â â â
fun fact: suguru geto loves showers.
the aroma of cleanliness enhanced by thick fog. the scorching water droplets trickling down his skin, the vulnerability of his nakedness inside these four walls. he strangely feels most at ease, most raw in this moment of solitude.
heâs able to gather himself too. there isnât much to accomplish in a shower once youâve gotten rid of the dayâs dirt. so, he likes to take the opportunity to think. to think deep and hard.
his mindâs all scrambled up. itâs been about three days since you were last in his apartment, two days since heâd thought about it, and a day since he last seen you (granted itâd been on your story, virtually, but still).
this has been the biggest feat heâs faced in a while. if he recaps it, this is whatâs he gotten: he invited you over. you came the next day. he didnât cater to you the sole reason you came. you didnât mind. you both studied for a bit. he asked about your cat. you ended up on his lap. he ended up in bed with you. you ended up leaving with a chunk of his dignity.
that didnât explain shit, but it did remind him of his failure. it reminded him that heâd finally met his match. it reminded him he needs to start backing his shit up. it reminded him of how good you smelled and tasted down there. it reminded him of how pretty you looked.
his cock twitches and he glances down. it also reminds him he never ended up cumming, too engrossed in his anxiety to jerk one out.
he feels as though the glass doors of his shower protect him from reality. heâs hard, though mortified, but still hard. heâd spent a long time (two days) suppressing the memory away, but there was no way to mistaken your taste on his tongue. how sweet you smelled. how soft you feltâ
geto fists at his dick before he can help it. his free hand plants at the wall before him, and he works his wrist. he twists at his shaft slowly and closes his eyesâ behind his lids are photographic memories of you on his lap. memories of you on his bed. memories of the scent of your panties. memories of your tits in his mouth.
sure, youâd made more sounds off the foreplay for the foreplayâ but that didnât take away how turned on heâd been. how his dick twitched in his boxers. how heâd humped the mattress. how heâd moan in your cunt.
ây/n,â geto moans your name, sinful yet hushed, his hand working faster. his thumb grazes his over slit and his gut drowns in heat. he wants a redo. he deserves a redoâ you deserved a redo. âfuckkkk,â
next time, heâll get it right. and if he doesnât, then heâll want to try again and again and againâ until it ends with your cunt clenching around his tongue and his face sprayed vigorously in your essence. until your thighs tremble around his face, your hand clawing at his hair and your back arched off his bed. until his name bounces off his walls and echoes so loudly his neighbours complain.
he wants a redo.
he jerks back as he paints the tiles white. the joints in his hand ache, the water from the shower head getting colder. geto pants heavily, chest heaving as his load is released from him. his cum drips from the wall and into the drain at his feetâ but his dick is far from well spent. if he spends another hour in the shower, itâs nobodyâs business but his own.
suguru geto loves showers.
â â â
âoh. you actually showed.â
âredo,â geto pants, having sprinted from his apartment. heâd spent the next three days after his shower incident wallowing some moreâ at some point, it just annoyed him. though slightly underwhelming, he was on his phone in bed a few minutes ago, going through his camera roll when heâd seen that picture he took of you and nanako. his feet guided him to his car before he could help it. choso helped him out with the address.
âredo?â you parrot his words, leaning against your doorframe. you crossed your arms over your chest, and itâs only then he noticed your appearanceâ flimsy camisole and pink lace panties. fuck, he wants a redo now.
âi want a redo.â geto repeats, but is quickly hit with a gust of wind. he hadnât brought a jacket with him in the midst of his impulse, and goosebumps were beginning to form at his skin. he shoots his shot, âyou ever planning on letting me in?â talk about deja vu.
âdunno,â you play along, eyes narrowing. âmaybe if you ask nicely.â
swallow your pride, he hears gojo somewhere in the back of his mind. he shakes that thought off quickly. this desperation had to be bigger than a pride issueâ he was ready to get on his knees and beg her to let him in. pride? that had been drained to the sewers the second he busted all over his shower days ago.
âlemme in and iâll make it up to you,â geto tries instead, taking a step closer, âplease?â
that seemed to be the correct answer as you push open the door to your apartment further. you turn your back and geto lets himself drink up your backsideâ he hadnât seen it last time but you had dimples sitting right above your perky ass. he watches your hips sway left and right, and even tilt your head back, a smirk etched on your face, âyou cominâ?â
you will be, âcute.â his lips twitch into a small smile, and closes the door behind him.
â â â
fool him once? shame on him.
geto doesnât allow himself to make the same mistakes twice. if one fuck up is enough to tear him down for a week straight then why the hell would he do it again?
youâre sprawled on your back, legs spread with enough space to fit his body in between. his hands plant on either side of your face, his bulge pushed up against your core. he feels your warmth through these layers of clothes, and he rolls his hips greedily, feeling himself already grow addicted. your chin is raised high, lids blown open as you stare at him all doe-eyed.
his brows pinch in the centre of his forehead. that faux look of innocence youâre offering is doing wonders to his dick. your tits sit beautifully beneath your top, arms back on him as you pull him in closer, and he lets himself fall prey to you. for a moment, the tip of his nose bumps into yours, lips ghosting over the other, hips colliding to meet yours.
âmhm, thatâs it.â you let out a sigh, throwing your head back into your pillows. thereâs an opening to your neck calling his name, and geto wastes no time to latch his lips there. he slips a hand beneath your tank top, fingernails grazing over your skin to creep up to your mounds. he flicks a thumb over the bud and you sigh blissfully againâ he then cups the flesh.
he loves the way you squirm when he kisses down your body, âi got you, pretty,â stripped from your cami, his lips leave open mouthed marks all over your skin. from the column of your neck, to your breasts, down your torso and past your navel, âlet me take care of you.â the lower he gets, the more intense your rawness reeksâ and itâs a damned good smell.
he lands right above your clothed pelvis, and he inhales sharply. he wonât make the same mistake this time, he can feel it. thereâs something lingering in the air, something indescribableâ but heâs confident he wonât. because when he skips your cunt in favour to pamper your inner thighs, dragging his wet tongue all over erogenous zones, he spots dampening right where your clit would be.
bingo.
your hand cradles his hair, and the other props your body up by the elbow. he glances up at you, cock throbbing against your mattress. your beauty still renders him speechlessâ runs his throat dry and makes his tongue feel heavy. he doesnât want to decipher what this means either, and decides to conclude heâs simply thirsty for you.
âsuguru,â you call at him. he blinks and the hand in his hair snakes down his neck, and pushes him deeper. his nose nudges at your throbbing clit, and his tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick at the damp material before he can help it. two fingers hook at your panties and push them to the side, revealing glistening folds. your slick drips between your crack and stains your sheets. he thinks he hears his stomach growl a little.
another swipe of his tongue, this time in contact with the raw you, and a breathless moan rips from you, âdonât disappoint me this time.â
and he feasts.
â â â
gojoâs woken up to a notification from his phone.
itâs still pretty lateâ or maybe early, and his pretty girlfriend is miles away in lalaland. she snores softly, cuddling into his side, and gojoâs ready to cuss out whoever dares potentially meddle with his girlâs sleep. heâs starting to get grumpy.
when his phone undergoes face recognition, he lowers the brightness immediately. he swipes through his notification center and notices an attachment sent by geto.
now that peeks his interest. he presses on the message.
suguboo: [1 attachment]
suguboo: passed intro2munch101 with an A+ đ«Ą
gojo canât help the laugh that leaves him, though is quickly quieted down when he feels stirring at his side.
âwell iâll be damned.â
yes, gojo is obsessed with his girlfriend. also 10k words on geto???
#renaâstar.#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#geto smut#geto x you#geto suguru x you#jjk smut#jjk oneshot#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#geto oneshot
536 notes
·
View notes
Text
OKAY so first off my narilamb au is specific to my lamb n nari bc đ€Ș but imma start off w/ an incomprehensible copy/paste of a ramble i had
all these ramblings are still rough but u kno!!!!
it's a bridgerton au specific 2 my narilamb(ovidia/narinder) where the bishops would be the closest to the bridgerton family equivalent and Shamura being the head of family trying to help their siblings find courtship so they will be set but narinder would be the most difficult of them all because hes stubborn and convinced that being married would make him miserable and every season hes had several interested suitors but hes rejected them all until he comes across ovidia, now considered a spinster after several unsuccessful seasons because all their previous suitors found them too high maintenance and itd be no different with narinder but itd be similar to bridgertons kate/anthony situation and they're so into eachother it makes them look fucking stupid!!!!
ALRIGHT now to get more into it, as far as family and dynamics go, obviously with Shamura being the head of the family they very meticulously keep things in order and its why their considered one of the most affluent families and they've very easily found partnership because it was probably more business than anything but it works for them, and when time came for kallamar to start looking it was smooth because of how enthused he was, and it was really obvious with him how many wanted in
the way i see it, nothing is strictly monogamous, but it's seen as "lower class" to have too many spouses because the merging of so many families is probably seen as greedy, desperate, something something for one reason or another-- that said, kallamar definitely has multiples, and if not for being such a prestigious family and shamuras own reputation, it couldve been worse so they got a freebie there
but with narinder, having seen the way his brother is with his spouses vs the way shamura is with theirs, hes seen an instance of a loveless business deal in one, and complete obsession to the point of disregarding everything else that hes so fucking disinterested in courtships especially in the way its been presented to him
hed be able to hold off shamura long enough to get away with putting off courting anyone, a lot of it having to be about "focusing on his studies and career" and while hes had PLENTY of potential suitors come knocking but he's always turned them away but when time comes for heket to debut its when the pressure is really on for narinder
THEN on the flipside there ovidia who has been insistent on taking on every role in their family, the head of which is the oldest matriarch who has yet to decide on who the next head will be and they have TRIED to court people but every potential suitor has just not lived up to the impossible standards theyve set but even WHEN theyre about to settle- something goes wrong and the courtship sinks and its always on the others terms
their family is large, but theyre only wealthy in the sense that such a large family that sticks together can hardly fail when everyone does their part. that alone make their name well known even if its unconventional
its at the start of the latest season that they try again where they first meet narinder and while everything almost seems perfect, the chemistry is almost instant but then they get a little too candid and ovidia talks too much about their situation and it triggers the part of narinders brain that fears becoming like shamuras marriage and a scathing remark both stuns and pisses off ovidia
one second everything is amazing, they seem to be on the same wave length, strong goals the other respects, even finding an initial attraction in the other but then he opens his mouth and theyve had it
they blow up at him and suddenly everything he does pisses them off and they'll start nitpicking everything about him and be right and their observations piss him off and then he starts going off on them along the lines of "i can see now why each season passes you by" to which ovidia is ready with a "as though your own haven't? one is left wonder if studying is why you've put off finding a spouse, or if that mouth of yours is to blame"
it self destructs right then and there and while they have no intention to cross paths again, of course they do
and it becomes some kind of pissing contest to find a spouse before the other does just to prove a point to the other than they CAN in fact find one and they both end up sabotaging each other unintentionally bc theyre still so into each other and in the short time they've gotten to know the other and even through the bickering it becomes apparent theyve put effort to remember things
its stupid, its messy, its what it is and im still thinking about it more.............
420 notes
·
View notes
Text
Aim for the Sky Part 33 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley can't wait to learn if Rose is going to have a younger brother or sister. Planning for the baby means planning for the future, but Bradley can feel that you're unhappy. With help from friends, he finally figures out why.
Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy, vomiting
Length: 3500 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
You'd been quiet for days, chalking it up to exhaustion from work, but Bradley was a little concerned. He was missing out on a lot of cooking and cleaning at home, as well as responsibilities with Rose. Most days, he was collapsing in bed right after you, body tired and brain overworked. But he was close to advancing a few of his pilots to the next stage in their careers, and he didn't want to let up just yet.
Truthfully, he was enjoying many aspects of his day-to-day at work. He loved making decisions that would benefit his group. When he had a compelling answer for his superior officers, it made him feel so good about himself. He didn't even mind putting in the extra hours. But it was clear that Indigo wanted to be his class pet, and he wasn't quite sure what to do about that.
She was weighing on his mind a lot, most likely because she was constantly invading his office hours. He wanted to tell her she didn't have to try so hard to be the best aviator in the bunch when she just simply was the best one. But that would be feeding her ego, which probably wasn't the smartest option right now.
"Are you ready?"
Bradley looked up from his desk to see you standing there, and he jumped to his feet. "Of course I'm ready," replied with a smile, pushing all of his paperwork to the side and logging out of his computer. "Been looking forward to this."
You smiled softly, hand resting on the slight swell of your belly as you shifted your weight from one booted foot to the other. "Me too," you whispered, and Bradley grabbed his keys, wallet and phone from his desk drawer. He reached for your hand, lacing his fingers between yours and headed out into the sunny October afternoon.
"Time for our final guesses," you said. "Do you think it's a boy or another girl?"
Bradley looked down at your face, the perfect curve of your cheek catching the sunlight. You were beautiful. Every bit as stunning as the day he first laid eyes on you in one of the classrooms he passed on a regular basis. "Sweetheart, if there's anything good or just in this world, it better be another girl. Then I'd have three of you to look at."
"Rose looks like you, Bradley!" you insisted immediately, breaking out in the biggest smile he'd seen on your face in weeks.Â
"Rose looks like you. Everyone thinks so. She's adorable." He pulled you to a stop and leaned down to kiss your cheek. "And her face already has this exact curve that I'm fucking obsessed with."Â
Bradley let his lips linger, loving the way your cheek warmed as you stepped all the way into his embrace. You seemed on the verge of telling him something or asking a question, your posture never quite relaxing. He'd noticed that recently. Like you couldn't let yourself completely go with him like you always did. He wanted to ask you what was going on, but he was more than willing to wait until you were ready to say something on your own.
"We'll be late if we don't get a move on," you whispered. Bradley responded by kissing along your cheek to your lips. "I'm serious, Roo," you mumbled.
"Let's go," he sighed. "Dr. Morris already thinks I'm an idiot. I better not add tardiness to her list of complaints about me."
A short drive later, and the two of you were walking into the waiting room right on time. You barely sat down before a nurse was calling you back and handing you a hospital gown.
"It's weird without Rose here," you said as you got undressed. Bradley held out the gown for you to slip into, shaking his head.
"Nah. This is just for us. She can hear all about it later after work."
He was just about to close the distance to stop you from tying the gown closed so he could get another look at you, but Dr. Morris strolled in.
"How are we all doing?" she asked, shooting Bradley a look on her way past. It wasn't like he was capable of knocking you up again, but she was looking at him like he might have.
"Fantastic," he replied at the same time you said, "Okay."
He shot you a look as you eased yourself up on the table. He wasn't sure what he could do to make you happier. A conversation was clearly necessary now, but he didn't even know how to initiate it. If finding out more about the second Nugget today wasn't enough to make you smile, he didn't know what was.
He dropped down into the chair at your side, wrapping his big hand around yours as Dr. Morris spread that warm gel across your belly and asked you an array of questions. He listened to your answers as his heart beat a little faster. He was excited about this. Soon you could talk about baby names and nursery themes. He couldn't wait to meet his second child in the spring.Â
Bradley kissed your fingertips, watching intently as your doctor isolated some ultrasound images. Then she asked, "Do you want to find out the sex?"
"Fuck yes," Bradley gasped, scooting his chair a little closer. "I mean, please."
You and Dr. Morris were both wearing smirks as he squeezed your hand. He was so excited, it was hard to swallow. He didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. He felt the same way last time around, too. He just wanted a healthy kid he could dote on.
"It's a girl."
He was up out of his seat, sending the thing screeching across the floor as he hooted. Okay, so maybe he did have a bit of a preference for another daughter, but he would have been happy either way.
"Another girl!" he shouted while you smiled up at him. "Just me and my three beautiful girls."
Bradley let his lips collide with yours, kissing you until he got his fill. Dr. Morris and the rest of the ultrasound and everything else could just wait a few minutes while he soaked in this pure perfection.
----------------------------
Bradley had been inundating your text thread for days with links to various nursery themes, but meanwhile you and he hadn't even decided which room would be your second daughter's.
"A second daughter," you whispered at your desk. Your parents were excited; you got to watch your mom and dad cry over FaceTime. Rose was too young to care, but one day she might have an opinion about her sister. You, on the other hand, felt like a mixed bag of emotions.
You wanted to be happy. You really did. But it was too hard. Somehow letting your sadness ebb and flow was easier. Especially whenever you ventured too far away from your lab or your office. Indigo was always around. It was like she knew were to find you. And perhaps she did. Your name was in the directories around base. But it felt like she was mocking you. She obviously wanted your husband, and he was either oblivious or hiding something.
When you managed to let your intrusive thoughts win out, you checked his phone only to find pretty much nothing untoward. Other than ruining the surprise of what was probably supposed to be an anniversary gift, all you found was one unanswered message Indigo sent to him a while ago. It bordered on flirtatious, and you were a little concerned that he gave her his phone number, but there was really nothing there.
But she was in your face on base enough that you kept to your office as much as you could. Of course, today was the day you were absolutely starving, and you left your lunch at home. You could pop down to the cafeteria, grab a sandwich to appease yourself and the baby, and then bring it back up here to eat it. Should be a piece of cake.
Hot turkey sandwiches were on the menu, and you almost cried tears of joy as you had one packed up in a container with extra gravy and a side of mashed potatoes. It smelled so good, you couldn't wait to take a bite.Â
When you were waiting for the elevator, you froze with your lunch in your hands. You could see Indigo and Spice heading out of the cafeteria, and there was hardly anyone in the lobby for you to try to hide behind. You felt absolutely ridiculous as you stood there eavesdropping.
"What kind of progress have you made?" Spice asked, voice carrying over the sound of conversation around you.
Indigo smiled and laughed, showing off her perfect teeth. "Well, I can't give you details here, but... it's no wonder he's willing to spend so much time with me after hours. Anyone with eyes can see his wife let herself go this time around." Your cheeks burned as she added, "He's more than happy to help me with absolutely anything I need."
You sucked in a deep breath, certain she was talking about Bradley. And you. When the elevator arrived you ducked inside, jamming your finger against the button for your floor. As the doors slid shut, Indigo's gaze connected with yours, and she stood there proudly with her friend like she'd actually managed to steal Bradley from you.
A sob escaped your lips, and you tripped along to your office door. You really did look awful. Your skin was broken out, and you were going to need to start wearing the maternity tent well before your third trimester. Your belly was already tender, and then the baby decided this was the perfect moment to kick hard enough you thought you were going to wet your khakis.
"She's right," you whispered, tossing your lunch onto your desk and running for the bathroom. One glance in the mirror as you ran for an empty stall left you sobbing in the ladies' room. You looked awful. It was no wonder Bradley was paying extra attention to her. The fear that looking at Indigo had already turned into touching her was eating away at you. When you flushed the toilet, you turned and gagged before emptying the meager contents of your stomach into the bowl.
When you finally made it back to your office, your stomach couldn't handle a single bite of food. You dumped it in the trash.
-----------------------------
Bradley was just wrapping up a meeting with Maverick when Indigo cornered him outside his office. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, trying to keep the amusement from his voice. She was getting to be relentless.
As she shook her head slowly, she laughed. "I already told you, Sir, I can think of countless things you could help me with."
"Well why don't you run some of them past me?"
Her eyes widened as she licked her lips. "We could do that at the Hard Deck? I could still buy you that drink?"
Bradley sighed, hands planted on his hips which somehow drew her in closer. "I can't let any of you buy me drinks. Sorry, but that's not going to happen." He nodded toward his door. "But I have about fifteen minutes if there's something I can help you with."
She nodded. "Fifteen minutes would probably be more than enough, Sir."
Indigo stepped inside his office, glancing back at him over her shoulder, but Bradley saw another familiar face turn the corner in the hallway.
"Hey, there, hot shot," said Natasha, making Bradley smile. "You have a minute?"
"Actually, no," he replied, watching as his best friend looked inside to see who was waiting for him. She made a face, gaze snapping back to his. "Can it wait until later?"
Nat pressed her lips together like she was fighting off a scowl. "I wanted to see if you were free to workout with me later," she whispered. "I could stop by after dinner, and we could do some reps in your garage?"
"Absolutely," he replied. "See you around seven?"
"Yeah."Â
She took one more look at Indigo before marching back the way she came, leaving Bradley with nothing to do but take a seat behind his desk.
"Do you want me to close the door?" Indigo asked, voice laced with hope as she half stood.
"Leave it," Bradley replied, once again showing no hint of favoritism. "Now, what did you want to talk about?"
----------------------------
After dinner, you excused yourself to Rose's nursery to feed her and make a phone call to your parents. Bradley kissed you on the forehead before doubling back to the bedroom to change into gym clothes. When he let you know Nat was coming over to workout in the garage, you seemed almost relieved.
He started setting up his weights and bench press when he heard the sound of a familiar engine pull up to the house. A minute later, Nat was strolling in wearing bright pink spandex with a matching gym bag.Â
"I could spot you a mile away," he told her, and she chucked her bag at his chest. They both laughed when he caught it.
"You know what I can see a mile away?" she asked.
"What?"
"The word dumbass written across your forehead."
He rolled his eyes, dropping her bag onto one of the mats. Then he froze as he heard another engine pull up to a stop at his driveway. This one made him glare at Nat.
"Why is he here?" Bradley asked, and a split second later, Jake came strolling in like he owned the place.Â
Nat and Jake shared a look as Jake tossed his gym bag next to hers. "I thought I might need some backup."
Now Bradley was annoyed and also confused. "Backup? For what?"
Natasha closed the distance to him, patting Bradley on the chest with a firm hand. Her dark eyes conveyed concern as she asked, "Are you fucking stupid? Or are you doing it on purpose?"
"Huh?"
"I love you, Bradley. I really do. But I still have to follow girl code."
"Nat, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about."
The clanging of Jake adding weights to the bar made Bradley want to scream as Nat shook her head in pity.
"She wants in your pants," Jake drawled.
"Who?" Bradley asked, still unsure what they were even talking about.
"Your student with the crazy blue eyes!" Nat said, smacking him hard on the chest.
"Indigo?" Bradley asked, taking a step away from her. Both Nat and Jake were nodding as Bradley's brow creased. "She's like twenty-six years old."
"So?" Nat asked, hands planted on her hips.
"So, she's not trying to get in my pants. I'm married. Everyone knows I'm married."
Bradley held up his left hand, complete with wedding band. He rarely ever took it off, especially since it got him into hot water with you when he was deployed. But as he watched the band shine under the fluorescent lights, his lips parted wordlessly, and he stood there while both Nat and Jake scrutinized him.
If Indigo had been flirting with him this whole time, he'd written her off as an overzealous young pilot trying to prove herself. Now every interaction replayed through his mind, and he rubbed his palm over his eyes as he groaned. There was no way this was happening to him. He'd been alone with her on several occasions in his office. The door always remained open, but she'd pushed for him to close it.
Bradley's cheeks burned with mortification, and he wasn't sure he could even look Nat in the face. If Indigo really was trying to get in his pants, then he was a joke. He was an absolute joke, and none of the younger pilots took him seriously in his new role. That thought made him sick, but not as sick as the idea that maybe you'd noticed something as well.
Bradley swallowed hard. "Oh, fuck." When he swallowed again, he wanted to scream.
"Okay, there's my answer," Nat whispered, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist and pulling his hand away from his face. She pressed herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "Thank god you're just stupid. It would be so much worse if you were messing around with her intentionally."
"I'm not," he barked, angry at the insinuation. "I wouldn't. I've never even touched her!"
Nat's hands were on his chest, coaxing him to calm down, but he was too worked up. "Easy, Soul Sister," she said, but he was shaking his head now.
"I'm fucking married, Nat! I made wedding vows. I have a daughter, and my wife is pregnant with another girl. What the fuck would I cheat for? What's going to be better than this?"
Bradley's chest was heaving with ragged breaths as she guided him to sit on his bench. He landed hard, jostling the weights as he looked up at two sympathetic faces.
"Nothing's gonna be better than Angel," Jake drawled. "I'm still not sure if it was dumb luck or divine intervention, but she's way out of your league, Bradshaw."
"I know," Bradley snarled. "You think I don't know that? She's fucking perfect." He tilted his head back, blinking up at the lights. "Do you think she knows Indigo was trying to flirt with me?"
"Absolutely," Nat replied, and Bradley forced himself to meet her eyes.
"Yes, asshole," Jake added. "She's not stupid like you are."
"Fuck." Bradley stood and started pacing around. He felt like his job and marriage were suddenly on the line. He didn't know what to say to you that wouldn't potentially make things worse right now. If he could think of something reasonable, he'd run across the yard and back inside the house and say it to your face.
Maybe this was part of the reason you'd been so quiet? But it didn't make sense. He never talked about Indigo outside of the context of work, because there was simply nothing else to say. But after that night at the bar, you were really fucking mad at him. He thought you were mad that he got drunk, but maybe there was more to it.
"God damn it," he groaned, realizing Nat was lifting weights while Jake spotted her. "Do you think I should talk to Mav tomorrow?"
"Yes," they both replied in unison. The fact that they agreed on something was scary enough, but that let Bradley know just how fucked he was.
But he would take care of everything. He'd talk to Mav and figure it all out. What other choice did he have?Â
"I'm heading inside," he murmured. "Can the two of you turn off the lights and lock up when you're done."
Bradley didn't wait for an answer. He was already walking across the backyard, craving your reassuring touch that he wasn't quite sure he deserved. When his phone vibrated in the pocket of his shorts, he pulled it out. He was met with another text from Indigo, but this time there was a photo as well. She was on the beach at sunset, the orange and pink sky somehow making her eyes look even more startlingly blue, and she was smiling at the camera. When his eyes slid down the screen to her cleavage, he almost dropped his phone. But not before he read the text.
This beach is so beautiful. Wish you were here.
Bradley couldn't decide what to do. Turn around and go back to the garage? Go inside the house? Sit down on Rose's jungle gym and cry? Smash his phone to bits? When another text appeared, he looked at it immediately.
Oops, I sent that to the wrong person. Have a good night, Sir.
Bradley squeezed his phone in his hand until he was afraid it might break. Then he opened a different text thread and pounded out a message, hitting send immediately.Â
Mav, I need to talk to you about something important first thing in the morning.
When Bradley noticed movement, he looked up at the sliding glass door. You were carrying Rose around the living room, bouncing her in your arms as you yawned. Getting the Nugget ready for bed was supposed to be his job. He loved it. The bedtime stories and the snuggles were the best part. He needed to have this.
Finally he walked inside, sliding the door closed quietly behind him, trying not to panic. Rose was nearly asleep, but you let him take her into his arms. Bradley kissed her all over her sweet face before forfeiting her to her crib, then he climbed in bed with you. When he reached for your hand, you curled up against him, and he let his hand rest along your belly.
"I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered, heart aching. "I love my three girls."
-----------------------------
Start getting your shit together, Bradley. Indigo has shown she's relentless. Also, I thought I was solid on the baby's name, but I might put it to a vote. Stay tuned. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls
@hotch-meeeeeuppppp
@solacestyles
@blog-name6996
@bcon24
@avada-kedavra-bitch-187
@katiebby04
@marantha
@averyhotchner
@abaker74
@heli991113
@k-k0129
@noz4a2
@shanimallina87
@ccbb2222
@xoxabs88xox
@thedroneranger
@cherrycola27
@fanboyswhore9
@xomrsalliej4787xo
@desert-fern
@horseslovers2016
@mattyskies
@hookslove1592
@blahehblah
@sadpetalsstuff
@local-spidey
@schoollover
@lex-winchester
@nicole01-23
@jessicab1991
@happyrebelruins
@samsgoddess
@bellaireland1981
@sagittarius-flowerchild
@mygyn
@yuckosworld
@daggerspare-standingby
@nessjo
@trickphotography2
@lyn-js
@furiousladyking
@godsfavoritebabe
@bethabear12
@halo-mystic
@sherlockstrangewolf
@theamuz
@khaylin27
@glenpowellluver
#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster fanfiction#rooster imagine#rooster x reader#rooster x you#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fic#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#aim for the sky
335 notes
·
View notes
Text
puppy | b.eilish
billie eilish x fem!reader
context. your girlfriend surprises you with a gift, bringing up a string of emotions as you converse about your future together.
warnings. fluffff, this is superr short like almost a blurb, they talk about having kids I AM WELL AWARE itâs not possible donât chat i donât wanna hear it.
masterlist
âbabe, i have a surprise.â billie called from the entrance to your shared apartment. sheâd just come home from a few errands she claimed to have been taking care of.
âyeah?â this piqued your interest of course as your mind flooded with the different ideas of what the surprise could be.
âcome here.â you of course, would never have imagined to see her holding a cute little puppy in her arms, gesturing for you to come and pet it.
âyou got a puppy?â you couldnât hide your excitement as she held the small pup in her arms, cradling it as if it were her child. sheâd always do this shit to subconsciously remind you of how utterly cute she was.
âi got you a puppy.â she clarified, a smile beaming across her face and your chest threatened to burst as she transferred the puppy to your arms.
âme? as in you just woke up and decided to buy me a puppy?â she chuckled as she continued scratching the puppyâs ears as he nestled into her touch.
âhe can be like our little baby, you know. like before we have a real one.â she winked and suddenly you were flustered. cheeks tinted pink, flutters in your stomach kind of flustered.
âour baby?â the puppy was a distraction from the conversation, but talks of your future together always caused a little twinge in your heart.
âyeah. he can be friends with shark. our little dog family.â she laughed with you when she pecked your lips, cupping your cheeks as you held the puppy close.
âthatâs so sweet.â she was grinning at you, the sight of you holding the little animal so precious to her. your eyes were glossy, but not at all a sign of discontent. the opposite, when you felt the pupâs wet little tongue meet your cheek. you flinched slightly, caught off guard but soon accepted the dogâs act of affection.
âyouâre so fucking pretty.â you looked away from him at to her, as her eyes crinkled with soft tears. the both of you were crying. she kissed you again, this time longer. filled with endearment and endless promises of your future. a future together.
âi canât wait.â you whispered despite there being no reason except for the shrinking distance between your faces as she pecked your lips again, before speaking.
âcanât wait?â she paused before asking for clarification, almost forgetting her previous words in an act of confusion. âfor what?â your smile radiated onto her face, mimicking your own expression.
âi canât wait for our baby.â her teeth split her lips as she laughed, having had a momentary concern at your devilish grin.
âi canât wait for us to make one, i suggest we go practice. like right now.â she smirked when you pretended to cover the dogs ears.
âhush! the puppy is right here. you canât be talking that way in front of our kids.â you scolded her playfully as she urged you to set the dog down so that she could continue her pursuit of getting you into the bedroom.
âiâm gonna have to get used to calling you mommy. thatâs always been my name.â you hit her arm before she pulled yours, leading you away from the little pup, who was now sniffing up shark, his cute barks doing little to faze the much bigger, and older dog.
âbillie!â
#billie eilish#billie eilish fic#billie eilish fanfiction#billie eilish gf#billie eilish imagine#billie eilish x fem!reader#billie eilish x reader#billie eilish x you#billie eilish fluff#wlw post
258 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay, I know I already reblogged this, but my brain has been absolutely gnawing on this AU's possibilities so I had to write some of my ideas down.
Boq is definitely the DM. He seems like the kind of guy who would have gotten into the game back home and then brought it to Shiz. He tries for weeks to get Galinda to play, but it's not until he mentions it to Nessa, who then mentions it to Elphaba, who THEN mentions it to Galinda that a game comes together. Fiyero tags along too because he's curious...or at least that's what he says. It's not until they actually arrive at their session zero character creation that he rolls up with a fully prepared character sheet and they all realize "oh this guy knows this game."
Here's what I think everyone decides to play:
Galinda = College of Glamour Bard. I put this in my original reblog and I'm sticking with that. The whole subclass just feels like it was made for her.
Elphaba = Wild Magic Sorcerer. I was torn on whether Wild Magic or Divine Soul would be her subclass, but thinking it over more I've decided to say fuck it, give her the Wild Magic Sorcerer build because it fits thematically and because its shenanigans are fun. In universe, my excuse is Boq suggested choosing options that they could relate to as a first time player, so there you go.
Nessa = Order Domain Cleric. In my head, Boq mentions that cleric is his favorite class, so Nessa decides to explore those options. Something about the Order Domain just speaks to her...maybe it's the desire for some control over her own life, maybe it's a dark foreshadow of who she will become later. But who's looking into it that deeply?
Fiyero = Cavalier Fighter. He just wants to kick ass on a horse. It's also a nice way to uphold a "knight in shining armor" appearance for his peers. Galinda loves it, while Elphaba just rolls her eyes and calls him out for being a horse boy.
The first game is a simple fetch quest that quickly goes off the rails. This isn't unusual as far as D&D goes, but it does escalate to a loud enough volume that the crew gets kicked out of the library and has to find another spot to play. This could be a number of places, but I like to think Doctor Dillamond is kind enough to allow them access to his classroom, mostly to keep them all out of trouble and because of his soft spot for Elphaba (he's happy to see her making friends and joining in whatever this strange social club is). His only request is that whatever mess they make is cleaned up before the first class the following day. It's very close once or twice.
Now, in terms of how our cast actually are as players...
Galinda is the confused enthusiast who has no idea what she's doing but is going to do everything with an air of exaggerated flair. This results in her being the unintentional button pusher/trap trigger-er/the one the party is constantly yelling "NO!" at a second too late. Somehow, she always manages to pull through whatever mess she is in or has gotten the entire party in, mostly because she's able to gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss everyone else, including the DM, on a whim.
Elphaba is a born rules lawyer who comes to the game having memorized all her spells and abilities, only to find herself consistently exasperated by Galinda's choices and/or fighting with Fiyero who knows the game so well that he's found countless loopholes to exploit. She does end up having fun but hoo boy does she come close to magically throwing a book at someone's head on multiple occasions.
Fiyero is just vibing and, though he won't admit it out loud, is genuinely having a good time with these people and it's the happiest he's been in a long time.
Nessa is the only one trying to keep the party on track with the plot for Boq's sake, who is beginning to question bringing this particular group of people together.
UPDATE: I just saw the spellbook again in the artwork and was like "shit that's really a wizard thing to have a spellbook" and then I remembered the beauty of the multi-class, so my solution is that Elphaba decides to multi-class later on into a School of Transmutation Wizard.
dnd au request
#i spent way too long thinking about this#but when two of your favorite things collide like this...#well these things just happen#d&d#wicked
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
what a heavenly way to die || the proxies
âforever is in your eyes, but forever ainât half the timeâ
sum: after being stranded in the middle of a snow storm, youâre forced to take shelter with masky, hoodie, and toby. you need to stay warm, by any means necessary
tw:SMUT, FILTHY, LONG, AGGRESSIVE SMUT, foursome kinda? idk?, sub!reader, soft dom!masky, hard dom!hoodie, sub!toby, gun play, overstimulation, exhibitionism, lowkey throat fucking, praise, humiliation, power dynamics lowkey do be in place
a/n: FOR ALL OF MY OG HITCHHIKER BABIES <3
âBut I donât wanna wear gloves!â
âToby if you donât wear gloves, your fingers are gonna fall off.â
Maskyâs voice was hoarse, his patience thinning the longer he walked. Not even a fresh cigarette could make this situation any better. Only some shit like this would happen to him.
On the way back from an assignment the car ran out of gas, courtesy of allowing Hoodie to drive for more than five minutes. Now with the tank on E, the four of you were stranded in the middle of no where. Snow fell from the sky, coating each of you more and more by the second. Hoodie seemed perfectly content with his offense, minus the occasional shiver. Toby couldnât comprehend the need to wear so many layers, the kid practically fighting for the right to freeze to death. Masky found himself silently regretting his choice of a mask, his gaze landing on you.
Normally he discounted your presence, you being the newest member of the group. But heâd be lying to himself if he shrugged you off. Although you had only been around for a few years now, for such a tiny little thing you sure pulled your weight. He never thought much of you at first, your small stature and loud mouth telling him everything he could ever want to know. But over the years of enslavement together you simmered down, sometimes more quiet than Hoodie. Masky could deal with his silence, having been dragged into this shit show by his hand.
But you? He couldnât handle it.
His dark gaze landed on you, looming over your shaking form like a dark cloud. You always wore skimpy clothing, even if not practical. This happened to be one of those times, your skirt riding up your thighs and knee high socks failing to conceal the goosebumps that littered your skin. âCold, kid?â Masky asked, ignoring his own shaky fingertips as he took a drag of his cigarette. The four of you had been hiking for what felt like hours, more and more of your limbs becoming numb by the second. âT-Told ya life wasnât a f-fashion show,â Toby chimed in, clearly enjoying the weather.
âCan it, you ticking time bomb,â Masky interjected, frowning. He noted the way you avoided his gaze, as if you were afraid of judgment. But why? You had never given a shit about his opinion before. He grunted to himself as he shrugged off his signature mustard jacket, forcefully shoving it on your shoulders.
âBut youâll freeze-â
âPut it on and donât bitch about it.â
His voice was stern and full of authority, threatening you to question it. His mask hid his satisfied expression as he watched you put it on. âAny plans here boss? Or do we plan on camping out here?â Hoodie asked sarcastically. It was in moments like these Masky was thankful the two of them wore mask, his distain written all over his face. âWe just need to keep heading south like boss ordered,â Masky huffed, blowing cigarette smoke out into the cold night air. Tensions were arising quickly, the freezing cold fizzling out any trust that had been formed.
âHead south? Are you on crack or delusional? Tobyâs fingers are so frost bitten theyâre about to snap off and the kid is so fuckin cold iâm surprised sheâs able to stand at all,â Hoodie barked, his words laced with venom. Masky didnât like to go off schedule. He didnât like to piss off The Operator. If it were him and him alone, heâd continue walking south until he either made it or The Operator himself found him. However, as his eyes raked in the sight of his companions, he realized Hoodie was right.
âFine, weâll have a sleepover. Follow me. I saw smoke over this way,â Masky agreed reluctantly, tossing his cigarette bud carelessly onto the ground. Toby began to yap about Masky being a litter bug, earning him a knock upside the head from Hoodie. The silent proxy gritted his teeth, annoyed with Masky neglecting to tend to them sooner.
âYou saw signs of civilization and just now told us? How long would you have let us walk before we fuckin froze to death?â Hoodie questioned, his gaze so deadly Masky could feel holes burning into his back. You awkwardly tugged his jacket closer to you, your breath shallow. âHeâs k-kinda right, kinda an asshole move,â You said softly, completely exhausted from marching in a borderline snow storm. Maskyâs gaze softened for a moment, before noticing Toby had taken off his gloves. âWe need to get going before this dipshit loses his fingers,â Masky grumbled, shrugging off the issue at hand. The three of you trailed behind him, satisfaction washing over you as a cabin came into sight.
You werenât an advocate for death, but you quite literally wouldâve killed someone for a warm spot in that cabin. The four of you burst inside, scanning the room for any sign of human life. None of you could deny your eagerness to be warm. A small fire crackled in the background in the fireplace, providing a soft orange glow to the room. Masky gestured Toby to follow him upstairs, leaving you and Hoodie to scope out the remainder of the first floor. âAny guesses on why itâs abandoned like this?â You asked the taller proxy, avoiding his lingering gaze. Hoodie tended to be a bit unsettling sometimes, whether he meant to be or not.
âMy guess? Some rich couple cut their honeymoon short and hauled ass once they saw the forecast,â Hoodie said blandly, shrugging off his ski mask. It had been a while since you had seen his face, his stubble grown out more than you could remember. âGood for us then,â You mumbled, averting your eyes. You stared at the ground so much you tended to forget what your fellow proxies faces looked like. Footsteps trampling down the stairs regained your attention, your head snapping in the direction. âGood news, place is ours. Bad news, the only heat source is that lovely fireplace right there,â Masky said, sitting down in front of the small couch. The three of you followed his lead, crowding around the tiny fireplace.
âThis is your grand plan?â Hoodie questioned, his distrust visible on his face with his mask off. Masky fought the urge to light another cigarette, bringing his knees to his chest. âThe fireplace as well as our body heat is enough to survive. Unless you have a better idea, be quiet,â Masky replied dryly. Toby took the opportunity to lay his head in your lap, a place he had been time and time again. You had taken on this role long ago, stroking his chestnut hair until the unpredictable ticking time bomb fell asleep. Tonight was no exception, even as you settled in next to Masky.
You ignored the ever growing tension that sprouted with each second as your arms touched, the smell of his cologne mixed with tobacco flooding your nostrils. Tensions were ever growing as your arm brushed against his, your energies so magnetic it made you unmistakably nervous. Nervous. You never felt nervous in any other situation. But around Masky? Especially close like this? You might as well have been a flirty high school girl. Hoodie ignored the three of you, jumping over the arm of the couch and making himself comfortable. He was always reserved like that, refusing to touch any of you unless he was back handing Toby. The couch squeaked under his weight, the squeaks continuing until the older proxy got settled.
You continued to play with Tobyâs hair, swirling your fingers around his scalp. âWarm enough kid?â Masky asked, his voice more rough than usual. You tried to avoid staring, noticing him taking off his mask out of the corner of your eye. You wanted nothing more than to soak in his features, especially since his mask was practically glued to his face a majority of the time. Instead you forced yourself gaze to remain forward, watching the fire flicker. âI suppose,â You mumbled, catching a knot in Tobyâs hair. You refrained from cringing as you brushed it through with your fingers, thankful he couldnât feel pain as he slept soundly. The sound of Hoodieâs soft snores put Masky a little more at ease, his next words something he wouldnât admit to the other two men next to you.
âYou were right about earlier. I was an asshole, I shouldâve had us head here to begin with,â Masky admitted timidly. He didnât like being the leader, that role automatically assigned to him like it was his birth right. What he didnât like even more than that, was admitting that he was wrong. He expected ridicule, which he wouldâve gotten if you were Hoodie or Toby. But instead you laid your head on his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against the fabric of his sweater. âI know you were just trying to please The Operator,â You whispered. You continued playing with Tobyâs hair, ensuring your hand didnât stop. You glanced up in his direction, soaking in his thick eyebrows and awkward side burns. His chocolate eyes met yours unsurely, an eyebrow raising.
âWhat are you doing to me kid?â Masky grumbled, his own heart beginning to race. This was bad news, feeling this way towards you. But the orange glow against your skin had him reeling in his own skin. âYou tell me boss,â You whispered back, edging your lips towards his. It caught you off guard that Masky made the first move, planting his lips against yours. His lips were as chapped as yours, his taste a recognized mixture of mint and cigarettes. You melted under his touch, eagerly kissing him back. He was intoxicating, his large hand slipping into your hair.
You could feel your core throbbing with desire, your cheeks flushing pink as you realized this. Being a proxy didnât exactly equate a productive sex life, your body longing for the touch of another human. You couldnât get enough of his lips, his desperation. It was just as passionate as yours, both of you longing for human compassion. You shuddered as his large hand slithered down to your thigh, your legs parting instantly. His cold fingertips trailed up your sensitive skin, tracing your skin teasingly. You held back a soft groan, Masky eager to hear you make sinful noise for him. He was so close to your core, your body shuddering at the idea-
âWhat the fuck are you two doing?â
Hoodies voice was sharp, abruptly interrupting your lustful daze. Love affairs between proxies was forbidden, a strict rule made clear to you by The Operator. While he gave the same speech to Kate, he knew that her feralness would unintentionally have her follow his rule to a T. You, however, were semi more mentally stable, with a knack for fashion and semi put together appearances. For the first time you saw panic across Maskyâs eyes, causing you to clear your throat. âSharing body warmth obviously, you cold Hoodie?â You asked, the lie leaving your lips before you had time to consider the repercussions. For a second you couldâve swore you saw a glimpse of Brian, a playful smirk crawling up his lips.
Your hand abandoned Tobyâs hair, grabbing a handful of Hoodies coat to drag him closer to you. You managed to spare a moment of hesitation, dragging his lips to clash into yours. You were tense at first, unsure what the proxy would do. You were surprised to feel him meet your desperation all the same, the nagging realization of his similar loneliness crashing over you. Teeth clashed with teeth, his desperation resulting in a deeper kiss than you expected. You found yourself getting even more flushed, knowing Maskyâs eyes were burning into yours. He took the opportunity to press his hand against your core, noting how damp your panties were already.
âYouâre gonna wake the kid up,â Hoodie grunted, reluctant to pull away from your lips to begin with. Masky rubbed against your swollen slick, earning a small whimper from you. âIâm a-a-already up,â Toby said groggily, sitting up. You avoided his gaze as he soaked in the sinful sight in front him, Maskyâs hand on your cunt and Hoodieâs lips mere centimeters from yours. You swallowed, your core throbbing at the idea of taking all three of them at once. After all, you had to convince yourself you werenât lying. This entanglement was nothing more than an exchange of body heat, a way to keep warm.
Right?
You turned your head towards Toby swallowing nervously as you leaned forward to kiss him. It caught him off guard, his light grey cheeks forming a tint of pink as he matched your actions. Two sets of large hands rearranged you as you lost yourself into the kiss, your ass in the air as your skirt got flipped up. âFuck,â Masky mumbled, his cold hand sending goosebumps across your skin. You could hear Hoodie moving on the couch, causing you to pull away from sucking on Tobyâs bottom lip. The clinking of his belt fully caught your attention, your eyebrows raised. âDo you um, not wanna be warm?â You asked slowly. A pang of embarrassment shot through you, a creeping worry of his lack of desire for you arising. The taller proxy smirked, unzipping his jeans.
âI just wanna watch you get knocked down a few pegs, now go on and kiss Masky again,â Hoodie ordered, palming himself through his jeans. You turned to Masky, cheeks flushed red and heart pounding as you met his gaze. His pupils were blown with lust, his face in the softest state you had ever seen it. You met his lips eagerly, obeying Hoodies demand. Toby took the opportunity to come up behind you, his cold hands slipping under your shirt. Your hand slithered its way down to Maskyâs crotch, palming his hard boner. You were satisfied to hear a small groan claw its way out of his throat, your lips eagerly swallowing it. You arched your back as Tobyâs curious fingertips found their way to your breast, squeezing harshly at your perky nipples.
âN-No bra? Youâre just d-d-dying to get fucked huh?â Toby snickered. Goosebumps trailed down your spine as you whimpered, nibbling on Maskyâs bottom lip. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, soaking in his facial expression. âLet me suck you off,â You whispered, biting the inside of your cheek as Toby harshly twisted your left nipple. Masky seemed at a loss of words, something that rarely occurred to him. He looked over you, eyeing a mischievous Toby. âHey kid, make yourself useful and let her ride your face,â He said, his words laced with authority. You couldnât ignore the warmth that spread over you as Toby laid on his back, nuzzling himself between your knees.
âSit back on his face princess,â Hoodie ordered, pulling his cock out of his boxers. Masky clenched his jaw, having momentarily forgotten Hoodie was even there. He watched your shaky hands fiddle with his belt, slowly lowering yourself onto Tobyâs eager mouth. You nervously glanced down at the younger proxy, licking your dry lips. âYou can uh, touch yourself you know, or something,â You offered unsurely, feeling him shove your panties to the side with his cold fingertips. Masky placed his hand on the back of your head, gently reminding you to focus. âHeâll figure it out kid, stop worryinâ so much,â Masky grumbled. You continued to focus on undressing him, whimpering as you felt Tobyâs warm tongue dart in between your folds.
âThis is taking way too fuckin long. Letâs speed things up shall we?â Hoodie asked, his cock already exposed and in hand. Your eyes widened as he took out his hand gun, clicking off the safety. âGet to sucking princess,â Hoodie barked. Toby continued to lap at your folds, his tongue messily flicking your clit. âAre you out of your goddamn mind? What the fuck is wrong with you?â Masky argued. His attention was diverted once you took him in your mouth, eagerly bobbing your head up and down on his hard cock. Hoodie smirked at your reaction, noting the way your thighs squeezed Tobyâs head harder. âLook at her Mask. You think a girl like us isnât into some freaky shit? Now shut up and enjoy it,â Hoodie snickered, stroking himself to the sight.
Toby was eager, his hand pumping his own shaft as he devoured your cunt. He couldnât get enough of your taste, his soft groans muffled by your soaked folds. Your hips involuntarily grinded against his face, your own moans sending vibrations around Maskyâs cock. The brunette tried to hide his own sinful noises, but you taking him to the base cancelled out any possibility of him being able to do so. His hand grabbed a handful of your hair, assertively guiding you up and down his cock. Hoodie couldnât get enough of the sinful sight, your knees digging into the hard wood as you struggled to hold yourself up. He wouldnât stop watching even if the world collapsed.
Meanwhile Masky was struggling to hold on, having spent years and years with his hand as his only companion. Your mouth was so warm and wet, your throat only making it harder to resist cumming right then and there. âFuck kid, youâre gonna be the death of me,â He grunted, feeling your tongue swirl around his tip. Your eyes were already flooded with tears, your gaze meeting his as you deep throated him. It was embarrassing to Masky how fast he knew he was going to cum, your sweet face only bringing him closer to the edge. Hoodie noted this as well, noticing the way Maskyâs hips began slowly stuttering. A sadistic thought came to mind, one that he knew would ensure a good time for every party involved.
Your orgasm was approaching quickly, your thighs squeezing Tobyâs head so tightly you were almost worried about him. âGo on princess, thatâs it. Ride Tobyâs face like the good whore you are,â Hoodie purred, stroking himself. He enjoyed watching your micro expressions, your mannerisms. The way your eyebrows furrowed when Toby licked you just right. Masky momentarily pulled out of your mouth, craving to hear your moans. Your spare hand was tugging at Tobyâs hair, whimpers clawing their way out of your throat. âFuck, feels so good T-Toby-â You whined, tilting your head back. Precum and saliva covered your swollen lips, your gaze meeting Maskyâs. âCan I cum? Fuck, please let me cum,â You whined, struggling to contain yourself. Masky smirked at your request, briefly giving Hoodie a cocky glance.
âGo on kid, cum for us,â He cooed. Words couldnât describe the satisfaction he felt as you came on Tobys face, your eyes rolling back and legs shaking. You planned to get off, a click from Hoodies gun ripping you away from your ride of euphoria. âI didnât tell you to get off, did I? Keep riding princess,â Hoodie barked. Toby was still as eager as ever, his mouth gratefully accepting you as you lowered back down onto him. He lapped at your slick, devouring your cum. âNobodyâs stopping until everyone cums. Thatâs only fair, isnât it?â Hoodie asked mockingly. You rolled your tongue out across your bottom lip, presenting yourself for Masky to use. âMasky, please, let me taste you,â You pleaded, struggling to stay upright. The overstimulation was making your body twitch, the brunette quick to shove himself back in your mouth.
Something about this, watching you be overstimulated and cumming, drove Masky feral.
He was more aggressive this time, pulling your hair and forcing your jaw to go slack. You whined as you struggled to keep up, saliva trailing down the sides of your mouth. âSuch a good hole for me to use, fuck,â Masky groaned. He could feel himself coming closer to his orgasm, his hips stuttering as he thrust one final time down your throat. His warm seed made you gag as you struggled to keep him in your mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you gripped his thighs, swallowing him whole. He pulled out of your mouth, watching you gulp for air. You were so pretty like this, your face fucked out and sounds nothing more than incoherent babbles. You could hear Tobyâs groans growing louder as well, your thighs squeezing around his head as he came on his stomach. The three of you were spent, Tobyâs tongue momentarily coming yo a pause.
The sound of Hoodies gun clicking caught all three of your attention, the taller proxy not hiding his sadistic grin. âNot all of us have cum, have we?â He asked, sending a shiver of fear and arousal down your spine. âKeep sucking princess,â He barked. His gaze landed on Toby, whose eyes were barely visible from between your thighs.
âAnd keep eating her out kid, I wanna see her squirm.â
#creepypasta#creepypasta smut#creepypasta lemon#creepypasta x reader#creepypasta x female reader#creepypasta x y/n#creepypasta x you#marble hornets#masky marble hornets#masky and hoodie smut#masky smut#masky x reader#masky x hoodie#creepypasta masky#masky and hoody#tim masky#hoodie smut#hoody marble hornets#hoodie marble hornets#hoodie#ticcy toby x you#ticci toby x you#jeff the killer x ticci toby#eyeless jack x ticci toby#ticci toby x reader#ticci toby smut#ticci toby#slendermanâs proxies#the proxies#proxies
285 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could you write something about Harry, where his girlfriend is accompanying them on tour or maybe she is a 6th member of the oned (you choose how to do it) and they keep finding a way to escape without the people seeing to sleep with each other or he tries to take her to his bunk bed on the tour bus or to his hotel room... smutttt please
âMy boyfriend is literally on stage.â
kofi!
cw: public sex, slight daddy kink
There was something about being surrounded by tens of thousands of teenage girls screaming your boyfriendâs name that made you feel so good that after all of this, it was your arms he was running into. Not theirs.
Liam, Zayn, Niall, Louis and Harry were the most desired men on the planet right now, but little did the fans know that you and Harry were exclusive for a while now and there was nothing they could do about it.
The guys had been nice to you for the most part. Youâd joined their North American tour to get as much time with Harry as you could. But they were always busy, between rehearsals and recording sessions you didnât have any time together. Most of the tour was you just watching the shows and exploring the city on your own, it wasnât exactly what you had expected.
You took a quick snap of Harry performing a solo verse on stage during the last song, before slipping away to make it backstage before the crowd dispersed and so that you could greet Harry as soon as he came off stage.
He was so insanely attractive on stage, the way his jeans clung to the same legs that youâd straddle him on, and that hair that youâd tangle your fingers inâŠ
You stood in the wings of the stage, watching as Harry skipped off towards you, a towel in his hand that he used to wipe the sweat off of his head.
He ran into your arms, grinning, lifting you up and spinning you around.
You hand him a hair tie, and he swiftly ties his hair into a tight bun, keeping the hair away from his face. He knew you liked it when his hair was tied up, it meant you could see all his features properly.
âGood show once again, rockstar.â
âAll for you, baby.â Harry said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. âI put on that show and youâre the only thing on my mind.â
You grin at him, your hands on his waist pulling him closer to you.
He quickly bucked his hips against your stomach, showing off the hardness forming under his pants, you look up at him, eyes wide and mouth watering.
âIâve been waiting all day to get my hands on you, gorgeous.â Harry breathes, his hot breath hitting against your neck.
âThen you can have me. Whereâs the hotel?â You ask.
âNo hotel tonight, sweetheart. Weâre overnight on the bus tonight, Dallas to Kansas City.â
âThe bus?â You question, disheartened that you wouldnât be getting the night in a hotel together like you expected.
âDonât look so sad, baby.â He says, whispering in your ear, quiet enough that no one else in the room will hear him, âIâve been waiting all day for that sweet cunt of yours, hotel or no hotel, Iâm still gonna have it.â
Your heart skips a beat, âHarry, you share a bus with Niall and Zayn. Theyâll hear us.â
Harry smirks. âThen youâre just gonna have to be a good quiet girl for me then, arenât ya.â
Youâd never had sex in the bus before, nothing had went further than a make out.
Harry joked around about how notoriously loud you were in bed, he joked around about how all the other guests at night would be kept up at night when he fucked you.
You had no idea how he expected you to stay quiet on a bunk in a tour bus.
âGet to my bunk,â Harry says, âI gotta pick my stuff up from my dressing room and Iâll meet you there.â
You done exactly what Harry said, you made your way to his tour bus and got straight into his bunk, pulling the curtain closed. It was as small as you would imagine, considering it was a bed in a bus.
You heard the door open soon after, with the guys making their way onto the bus and walking straight up to the small living and dining area at the front where the TV was. Harry however, kicked off his shoes and jumped straight in the bunk with you.
âHey, gorgeous.â He grinned, pulling the curtain closed once again, and placing a fierce kiss on your lips.
âHey.â You replied.
âIâm not wasting any time with you.â He said, âSit here in between my legs, angel.â
He lifted you into position between his legs, brushing his face against your neck, his lips then attaching to your skin.
âRemember and be quiet.â He whispered into your ear, before returning to the soft skin of your neck.
You felt his hands on your thighs, moving closer and closer up your skirt, until his fingers brushed over the fabric of your panties.
Youâd been soaking wet all night for him, watching him up on stage in those damn jeans, knowing damn well what was underneath and in store for you later.
It was soon after that Harry tore the panties from you, ripping them in half for his fingers to gain access to your pussy, your toes clenching as his fingers moved in rapid circles, the tension building between your legs.
He had to put one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.
âGagging you already and I donât have a finger inside you yet, nevermind my dick.â He lowered his head to whisper in your ear, âHow you gonna last, huh?â
You moan into his hand as he brings you to an orgasm. You feel your body quiver as he continues to pump his fingers into you, soaking them in your sticky cum.
âThatâs it baby.â
This was one of the longest orgasms youâd ever had from just his fingers- something about the anticipation and naughtiness of being so dirty just feet away from his bandmates, paired with his hand firmly pressed over your mouth was too much for your body to deal with.
You were still processing your high when Harry moved so he was balancing on top of you, moving your body so your head was rested on the pillow. You watched as he slid his pants down his legs and shoved them at the end of his bed, and began to palm his cock over his boxers.
He was so big- it shocked you every time how he actually fit inside of you.
âSorry for rushinâ baby, but I need to be inside of you,â He said quietly, âJust stay nice and quiet for me, okay?â
You nod, and he discards the underwear, and you hike your skirt as far up your hips as you can.
Balancing above you, he sunk his cock slowly inside of you.
âHarry, oh!-â
He slammed his hand over your mouth, keeping you quiet.
âQuiet, princess. We have company, remember.â
He stayed very still for a short moment, his cock still buried inside of you. He enjoyed watching you squirm, watching your eyes beg for him to move. Your sweet, sweet eyes. Those eyes he got to stare at while he performed, the eyes which were the last thing that he saw before he kissed you, and those eyes he got to see when he fucked you.
When he started to move his dick, thrusting his hips, your eyes squeezed shut.
âDarlinââ He whispered, âYou open your eyes when I fuck you. Understand?â
You nod, opening your eyes again.
Harry was moving faster, his thrusts deep and hard. You had no idea it was possible to cum in five minutes purely from a manâs dick until you met Harry. He knew exactly what to do with your body in bed.
Your walls began to clench around him, your body shaking with every moment. By now youâd be screaming his name, but his hand was still firmly over your mouth. Any possible sound you could make was escaping through your nose as Harryâs dick pounded into you.
Harryâs bunk was small. It was crazy how little space this man needed to make you feel like this. This good.
âCum on daddyâs cock.â Harry whispered. The tour bus TV was loud enough that hopefully they wouldnât be able to hear the two of you by now, âMake a mess all over for me, baby.â
Harry reached for your clit, rubbing fast circles around your swollen bud until you reached your orgasm.
âOh, god. Oh baby.â Harry groaned, indicating he was coming.
You moaned into his hand louder. The feeling of his cum filling you up.
âMy sweet girl.â Harry moaned.
He felt so good.
So fucking good.
The thought of the others listening just made it all so more exciting.
#harry styles#harry styles one shot#harry styles x reader#harry styles au#harry styles smut#fanfic#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfic#smut#one direction
183 notes
·
View notes
Text
Challenging
Luigi Mangione x reader
â§Ë°.
a/n: i do my fanfic writing on ao3 now- including ceo killer smut, but i saw that blindfold video and i knew what i had to do and i knew the tumblr girlies were the crowd for this. i'm so sorry i don't know which depraved part of my brain this came from it just happened
cw: blindfolding, edging, author whipping her head back and forth as luigi and reader go back and forth on who the hell is the dom here
âËâĄ
It had started off as a joke, really.
Well, no- not a joke. When you quietly told your boyfriend you'd thought he looked "bite-able" in that blindfold, you had said so with a laugh to give yourself the excuse of being totally joking if he wasn't down to let you try the whole concept out in the privacy of his bedroom.
It normally would've been disappointing to leave your friend group's get-together so early- after all, you had movies and drinks planned, but wouldn't you know; an hour after your innocent comment in his ear, your neighbor coincidentally needed a ride to the hospital. Crazy how these things work out.
No, it was not disappointment you felt this time. An all too familiar sensation built between your thighs when his hand gripped the steering wheel, driving a little too fast back home.
You had almost asked your friend for the blindfold, but then you would of had to hear her ask why you'd need one when you were going to drop your neighbor off at the hospital, and you figured it'd be easier to just make do with something from your closet. Which you would- your brain was already brewing with ideas of different scraps of fabric you could use as a makeshift blindfold.
Back to your current predicament: soaking through your underwear, Luigi's fingers the star of the show you're playing in your mind as he drives you both home, and the bulge in his jeans.
"Tell me what's on your mind, love," he smirks, and then he's dragging his free hand that's not operating a moving vehicle up your thigh. Your breath hitches as he runs a thumb gently over the fabric covering your skin.
You stay silent, because if you speak you might just break immediately and beg for him to pull over and fuck you stupid on the side of the road.
He hmphs, delivering a firm smack to your thigh, and you let out a whimper at the stinging.
Luigi is normally a very safe driver, but it is nothing short of an absolute miracle that there were no cops out on the road to pull him over for a speeding ticket. It feels like you're parking and pulling out your apartment keys before the stinging sensation stops lingering.
You both say hello to your neighbor and his dog, about to go on a walk, and then shut the door.
"He looks remarkably well for someone needing to go the hospital," you joke, reaching your hands up to thread your fingers through Luigi's curls.
He leans into your touch, pinning you against the wall by the door in the process. This leads to your mouth being absolutely devoured by his own; your boyfriend is kissing you so desperately that when you pull away, a whine releasing from the back of his throat.
That blue checkered shirt, while fitting him exceptionally well, is unbuttoned and abandoned on the floor before you even drag him to the bed, wasting no time turning on any light except the bare minimum to see his shaking hands and achingly hard dick straining in his pants.
Pushing him down on the bed, you climb in on top of him, straddling his hips and shoving his shoulders down so his head meets the pillow. His arms go to find the hem of your own shirt, assisting you in pulling it off and then reaching to get the rest of your clothes off.
When the both of you are left in your underwear, your wetness is more prominent to Luigi, and he takes a breath, going to reach to help you out, but you're off his lap and hurrying to your closet.
"Baby," he mutters, his hand going to rest over his boxers.
Bingo. An old scarf- or, to better describe it, the idea of a scarf, because you had started crocheting it and then just never finished. However, it was perfect for the debauchery you had planned for you and your boyfriend.
"What's wrong?" you asked sweetly, stalking over to him and slowly climbing back on the bed to resume your position. "What can I do to help you out?"
You take his hand off his bulge, resting it on his side, and he shifts, his breath deepening.
"Need you so bad, please," he mutters. You drop the scarf while you place kisses down his jawline, eventually making your way to his ear.
"Lay back for me."
He obeys.
Luigi's eyes drop to the scarf, a smile building in the corners of his mouth makes you blush. There's no way you'll be able to keep your composure and not let him fuck your brains out, but you gotta keep it together long enough that you can get your boyfriend whining and moaning for your touch. You press another kiss to his lips, and tie the blindfold around his head, securing it in the back before ruffling his hair and grabbing his chin with your fingers.
"Not that you would know, but every single girl there was staring at you with that blindfold on," you remarked, your other hand running down his chest.
"Is someone j-" Luigi's voice falters when your fingers reach the waistband of his boxers, tracing over them.
"Hmm?"
You continue running your fingers over the skin, not bothering to take the fabric off until he can manage to form some words for you.
"If you were j- fuck- if you were jealous, you hid it very well," he says, hips raising so you can slide off his boxers.
Not jealous. Maybe a little annoyed, sure. But those girls were back there, and you were right here, with Luigi on your bed, your name falling from his lips, begging you to touch him.
"Or maybe that's why you were practically in my lap afterwards, huh?" he continues. "Wanting to show everyone there that I'm yours? Don't wanna share me?"
You're the one on top, you remind yourself so you don't melt in his hand and let him roll over to pin you down on the sheets. You look down at his dick, hard and standing at attention, waiting to be dipped into your warm, wet pussy.
Not yet. Not yet.
You move your mouth back down to his neck, right behind his ear, and bite down lightly.
Luigi gasps, but you quickly shush him and repeat the action on the other side of his face, a little harder this time.
"I told you I wanted to bite you," you admit, smirking when he throws his head back at the soothing kisses you leave over the teeth marks.
He twitches when your thumb finally runs over the tip, hands fidgeting at his sides. You watch his mouth open and close when you gather some of the precum, spreading it all over his length.
Breathtaking. He's truly the most beautiful man you've ever seen.
You feel more wetness gather between your thighs when you look at how hard he is, and how muscular his thighs are, and how you'd love to lower yourself on to him and take what you wanted. Instead, you wrap your fingers around him, pumping the length until his hands go to grab your waist.
You freeze, and Luigi whines again, bucking his hips up into your hand.
"Did I tell you that you could move, baby?" you scold him again, your free hand grabbing the nape of his neck, moving your lips closer to his. When he doesn't answer, you ask again.
"No- no, you didn't, fuck- baby, baby please keep going-"
Luigi's voice grows more desperate, filling you with a high that feels intoxicating. His precum soaks your fingers, his breath shaky- you want him so bad. Patience is becoming an unbelievably challenging attribute.
"Be a good boy and keep your hands to your side," you order.
He does. You watch the way his face contorts as you make him feel good, reveling in his moans. You continue stroking him until his whines get to a higher pitch, until he's involuntarily thrusting up into your hand.
You don't think you've ever been this wet.
When you know he's about to cum, you slowly pull your fingers away, licking all the precum off of them.
"No-" he protested, squirming and gripping the sheets so he doesn't reach and finish the job for you. "I was good- please- I wanna cum so bad, please."
You run your thumb over his cheek, tutting at the desperation in his voice.
"Maybe if you sit still, I'll think about it."
Maybe your newfound confidence is due to your own overwhelming urge to orgasm. Hearing him fall apart under you like this certainly helps as well. You adjust yourself in his lap, gripping his arms to support yourself in your quest to get a bit more comfortable, and then you pull of your own underwear.
However, you don't slide him inside you. Your own fingers go to run up and down your slit, and you sigh at how wet you are. It's incredibly tempting to use them to get yourself off, but knowing that Luigi's are right in front of you makes yours worthless by comparison. So you opt for grinding your pussy against his thigh, coating it in your slick.
You take a breath when you hit just the right spot, and you don't even say anything when your boyfriends hand shoots out to your waist to stabilize you and guide your body.
He whimpers when you grip his shoulders, quickening your pace as you use his thigh. Any other thought that wasn't about cumming like this was out the window, and it didn't help Luigi was coaxing it out of you, cursing and whimpering for him to let him help you out, for you to just take his blindfold off-
You snap back into reality before you finish, and with every single ounce of self-control you can muster, you pull yourself back.
Dipping your fingers into your pussy, you collect the wetness that's dripping out of you and bring it to Luigi's lips.
"Open," you command, and he eagerly takes your digits in his mouth, licking them clean and whimpering at how good you tasted.
It will be a cold day in hell before you forget that vision: him blindfolded, hand gripping your wrist and sucking on your fingers like it was candy.
You tug his hands back down to his side, ordering for him to keep them there, but he speaks up.
"Please, I need to feel you," he cries, squirming underneath.
You find a little bit of sympathy for him, because he asked so nicely.
So you only bring him to the edge one more time, as opposed to your original plan. He's trembling underneath you, whines and whimpers tumbling out of his mouth when you pull away again right before he cums, but you go back down again, this time with your mouth.
Luigi fucking sobs, hands pawing at the sheets and your hair and everywhere he can reach as you take all of him in, licking and bobbing your head up and down.
When he cums, it's everywhere. You think you have most of it in your mouth, swallowing it with the feeling of absolute ecstasy running through your body, but it's on his stomach, on yours, in your hair..
"You should see yourself, Lu," you tease, collecting the white off his chest and licking your fingers clean.
He doesn't respond for a minute, too out of breath. When he finally comes back around, he lets out a relieved sigh.
"Was the blindfold really that arousing?" he half-joked, rubbing his forehead and getting a little bit of cum on the edge of the scarf still tied around his eyes.
You shake your head yes, but then realize he still can't see you. When you go to answer him verbally, he starts again.
"Take it off me," he orders quietly, and you know you're about to get it.
When you finally let him have a look at you, he smirks.
"There you are."
He looks so angelic laying there, that you almost forget you haven't finished yet, and there's an ache between your legs that's begging to be quelled.
"Let's get this thing off you," he continues, taking the bra that you hadn't bothered to remove before and discarding it on the floor.
Luigi scoots you closer up his body, and you realize where he's going with this.
"Baby-" you plead, whimpering when his hands dig a little too hard into your hips. He smiles innocently up at you, the same kind of smile you gave him before blindfolding him and ruining his orgasms.
"M'just gonna make you feel good," he mumbles, and you gasp when he pulls you up onto his face. "Be a good girl for me."
#luigi mangione#luigi mangione x reader#fanfiction#unitedhealthcare ceo assassination#luigi mangione fanfiction#i may not be on the jury but i am sure as hell on a list somewhere#free luigi#luigi mangione smut
200 notes
·
View notes
Text
"I'm not getting my hands dirty" is something that can take a thousand different forms.
And all of them are capable of hurting you instead of just making you aware of how you caused something to happen.
My context is absolutely a completely unrelated but 'doing nothing' is exactly as much of a decision as taking action.
And will destroy relationships with the people you know and love when they hold you accountable for just standing there and watching. They will take it extremely personally when they or someone they love suffers and you didn't even care enough to so much as give a kind word.
Because after my dad was in a near fatal car accident that had him put in an induced coma there were so many friends and family coming out of the woodwork to offer their words of support and a shoulder to cry on in the days and weeks afterwards.
But not his own fucking parents.
They couldn't be bothered picking up a phone to call their son's family after he nearly died.
"Oh, we couldn't get to a phone" was the only thing my dad's mother said six months later. Despite living with one of their other sons.
I never forgave either of them, and they're dead in the grave and I never will forgive them because as far as they knew their son had been dying in a hospital bed and they couldn't be bothered to pick up the fucking phone.
Inaction is a decision.
So.
Yeah,
Maybe they didn't put the expense of an international phone call on their son's phone bill, but they sure as hell destroyed multiple relationships by not making that call.
"I didn't perform an action that caused harm" may leave your hands clean but it sure doesn't leave you with a clean spirit. Or grandchildren who had any shred of affection for you left in their hearts.
The trolley problem: Here you are, at the scene of a disaster that someone set off long before you arrived. You could help, you could take action, but that would mean you also take on responsibility for the outcome.
Would you rather act to save people, knowing that by choosing who to help you are implicitly choosing who to let die? Or would you rather keep your hands clean by letting the disaster unfold on its own, regardless of how much worse it will be because you didn't act?
Half the people on this fucking site: the second, absolutely the second. How dare you ask me to compromise my shining moral purity for pointless complications like 'who's in charge of the government' or 'harm mitigation'.
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
Pls do Caroline Harvey HCs
with just an eeny weeny teensy tiny bit of smut plss đđŸ
Headcannons . CH
pairing: caroline harvey (kk harvey) x reader
warnings: a mix of fluffy content and smut, so read at your own discretion and minors and men please do NOT interact!
this is my peace offering for being so busy and slacking on writing, full length fic coming soon!!
also not spell checked, sorry!!
SFW (barely but no smut)
i feel like sheâs a pretty domestic person, i think sheâd prefer quiet nights at home with you as opposed to going out and partying. i imagine her being the one to beg you to stay and do date night at home anytime you suggested getting dinner or seeing a movie.
âbut babe why canât we just stay home?! we have food and plenty of movies here!â sheâd whine when you asked âiâll even make you dinner myself! come on, i jusâ want you all to myselfâ
on a similar note, i also think sheâs not huge on PDA and thatâs why she loves staying in with you so much. itâs not that she doesnât feel comfortable being seen with you, itâs just that sheâs kind of reserved and prefers to keep her personal life as private as she can. for her sake and for yours.
which has its perks, donât get me wrong. you almost prefer it that way, subtle little touches when youâre out with friends or something like that, her hand gently resting on your lower back or her head resting on your shoulder when she gets tired. and then youâd get home, and she wouldnât be able to help herself anymore. sheâd be all over you in an instant.
âfuck,â she pants when you finally walk into your shared apartment for the night. you had been out for your mutual friends birthday, and you unintentionally intentionally decided to wear something fairly revealing âyâknow what you do to me? wearing something like that?â
and believe meâŠsheâd make up for the lack of public affection in other ways.
iâd like to think that her love language is acts of service. like she still loves to touch you and validate you and all that lovely girlfriend stuff, but she shows her love in more ways than just words.
sheâd often leave you sticky notes on the fridge when you got home later than she did, maybe leave some on your nightstand when she had to leave early in the mornings when youâre still asleep. always leaving an âxoxo Câ at the bottom to tell you sheâs thinking of you.
not only that, but sheâd do a lot of household chores for you when you were busy with school and work, run you relaxing baths when you were sick, or even something so little as running to the supermarket to grab your favorite ice cream when you started your period.
sheâd be one of those stereotypical lesbians that just absolutely worships the ground their girlfriend walks on. she never fails to bring you up in conversations and is quite willing to do anything you ask.
one night youâre winding down after a long day, watching tv and painting your nails whilst caroline sits beside you to keep you company. sheâs quite honestly not paying attention to whatâs playing on the screen at least, rather her eyes are glued to you. she watches the way the lavender lacquer glides across your nail, how your tongue sticks out in conversation and sheâs in complete awe of how beautiful you look doing the most mundane things.
âhey caroline?â you asked with a pout.
âyeah baby?â she hums in response, pretending like she wasnât just watching you like a hawke.
âdâyou think you could help me with this hand? i keep messing upâ
and sheâs already perching herself on the floor in front of you, pulling you into her lap as she grabs the bottle of nail polish to finish painting them.
sheâs a snorer. iâm so sure of it. although i donât think she snores like in a heavy type of way, but instead she lets out light little grumbles here and there.
i can just picture her, face pressed into the pillow, her cheek smushed against the fabric as she sleeps peacefully. her hair is all over the place and her lips are slightly parted. and then to top it all off, as if she couldnât be any cuter, she lets out the softest snuffs.
definitely has a scrapbook, shoved somewhere deep into her closet, that her mother gifted her. itâd be filled with several baby pictures and photos/drawings from when she was in grade school, hiding it away because she was unbelievably embarrassed for you to see them.
you remembered when her family visited you both when you had finally settled into your place together, her mom bringing the scrapbook as a housing warming gift of some sorts. caroline immediately tried to tuck it away, but you were more than stubborn and demanded that you sit down and look through it.
itâs still one of your favorite memories. laughing with her parents at all the goofy pictures from when she lost her first teeth, when she won her first hockey trophy, and when she graduated high school. you even loved reading all the poems she wrote in middle school english, loved seeing all the â1st placeâ ribbons that her mom neatly taped to the card-stock pages.
you only got to look at it twice since then, kk utterly miserable whenever it was pulled out, but you cherished those pictures more than anything.
sheâs probably such a dad in the sense that she pretends to not care about the cheesy reality tv shows youâre into, but then secretly starts getting hooked on it and makes you record each episode so you can watch it together.
âwhat do you mean lisa called meredith a âgarbage whoreâ?â she gasped, running into the living room with a bowl of popcorn in her hands âwait, wait i told you to pause it! i donât want to miss it!!â
her favorite place to kiss you is definitely your forehead. sure, she loves kissing you everywhere, but thereâs something so intimate to her about small forehead kisses.
she never fails to give you one before you both fall asleep, before you leave for work, when youâre sad and need comforting or when youâre so excited and itâs her way of expressing her support. youâd probably get her kiss mark tattooed there if you could.
she often gets overwhelmed with sports and school and family and all sorts of things. she tends to be reserved with her feelings, but youâre the only person she can genuinely open up to. sometimes she comes home from practice with this look on her face, and you can immediately tell that sheâs struggling.
most times she doesnât even want to talk about it, she just wants you to hold her, run your fingers through her hair and tell her itâs all going to be okay.
and she loves to teach you new things. wether thatâs teaching you how to skate, how to cook a family dish she always ate as a kid, or how play the games she learned in elementary school, she just wants you to be involved in everything she loves.
you think you love it more than she does. youâd never get over how excited she gets when you ask if you can help her make that âdinner she made one timeâ or if sheâd tell you a funny story from when she was a rebellious teen.
like that one time you were having lunch in the park one summer, sprawled out on a handmade quit atop the freshly cut grass as you laid side by side. you picked mindlessly at the dandelions beside you as you both chatted about each others day.
âyou know i used to make those when i was younger?â she spoke, motioning to the flowering weeds âflower crowns, i meanâ
âreally?â you smiled âno one ever taught me how, i always wished i could thoughâ
i didnât take long before she was picking some herself and instructing you on how to tangle them together so easily. she took it as serious as she took hockey, determined to make sure you knew how to make a perfect flower crown. it wasnât really a big deal to you in the long run, but something so important to her was just as important to you.
NSFW (for realsies this time)
getting straight to the point, i donât think sheâs huge on the strap. donât get me wrong, you both still use it often, but i think she much prefers eating you out or scissoring.
thereâs something about the appeal of physically feeling you on her that makes her crazy, a sensation that beats using the strap any day.
she loves it when you bite her or scratch her. itâs a pleasant mix between pleasure and pain and itâs probably her favorite part of intimacy.
she likes to look in the mirror the next day, just before she gets in the shower, to admire the long red marks that stretch along her back. she often teases you about too, but if you ever stop, sheâs guiding your hands to her back again.
sheâs not as drawn to the marks that your bites leave as much, instead she loves the feelings. when sheâs making you feel so so good, so much that you can barely hold it in anymore, that you have to bite down on her shoulder or her bicep to keep yourself grounded. itâs like an ego boost to her, a sign that she fucks you so good that you canât even function properly.
sheâs cocky in bed, i feel like sheâs the type to say:
âyeah baby? feels good huh?â
âcome on, speak up, i canât hear youâ
or if youâre on topâŠ
âfuck yeah, just like that, making me feel so good baby. keep goingâŠgonna make me comeâ
a sucker for praise
she loves when you tell her that sheâs going a good job, thatâs sheâs exceeding your expectations each time. sheâs a bit of a perfectionist and an over achiever that way, but hey, youâre not one to complain.
whilst she loves fancy lingerie and nice dresses, she folds for you even when youâre in sweats and one of her t shirts.
âreally? right now?â you huff as her hands dance up your shirt, massaging your tits roughly. sheâs kissing up your neck painfully slow and you canât help but wonder whatâs gotten her so worked up âi look like shitâ
âare you kidding?â she scoffs âiâd fuck the shit out of you no matter what youâre wearing, you look so sexy even in thisâ
iâm a firm believer (maybe this is a self insert but idc!!) that she appreciates all body types, especially a chubbier figure. like sheâs absolutely obsessed with your pudgy tummy and your thick thighs, a sucker for how plush and soft your body is. donât even get her started on those stretch marks of yoursâŠ
youâd be lying if you said you didnât struggle with your body image often, but you never had to be insecure for long when caroline walked into your life. she seized every opportunity to make you see what she saw in you, willing to do whatever it took to prove to you that she loved your body.
âshit, look at youâ she moaned, smirking as she watched you on top of her, grinding your wet pussies together. her hands gripped feverishly at your hips, often wandering down to squeeze your thighs. her hands were all over you the entire time, letting you know that she loves every inch of you âso pretty on top of me, iâll never get sick of lookinâ at you, got it?â
#foreingersgod#lesbian#wlw#kk harvey#kk harvey x reader#caroline harvey#caroline harvey x reader#caroline harvey imagine#womenâs hockey#hockey#hockey imagine#womenâs hockey x reader#wcbb#wcbb x reader#caitlin clark#caitlin clark x reader#iowa wbb#kate martin x reader#kate martin#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader
167 notes
·
View notes
Note
hiii :)
could you do a rafe x reader where the reader has a panic attack in front of sarah for the first and she knows to get the reader to rafe and he immediately calms her down?
rafe cameron x reader | hurt & comfort | (pogue!reader, mean girls, panic attack, crying, comforting!rafe, insecure!reader.)
 âč  àšâĄà§  âč 
No one figured Rafe Cameron would go for a Pogue. For all his life heâd been the number 1 Pogue hater, the biggest Kook defender, and overall just a pretentious asshole. Thatâs why it was the shock of the island when you showed up on his arm to Midsummerâs, wearing a dress that costed more than your rent with an anxious smile on your face.
Your boyfriend had promised to stick by your side for the entire night, and you were sure he meant it when he said it, but he hadnât taken into account just how enthused the elders were going to be to see him. He wasnât that teenage boy they knew anymore, instead a man living alone and dealing with his troubles; thanks to you.
It was halfway through the night when you went to the bathroom, the few glasses of champagne had your head feeling fuzzy and your bladder full. You locked yourself in the cubicle and started to do your business, before you heard voices from outside.
âItâs strange though, right?â The door closed behind the girls that had walked in, making you flinch as you stood to sort your dress out.
âRafe with a Pogue. Yeah, definitely weird,â a squeaky voiced girl agreed with a laugh.
âIt wonât last, trust me. Heâs only with her for the image, it makes him look good to do charity for a girl like that. Iâm pretty sure sheâs a waitress at the club,â the other one responded.
âIâll be sure to find him later and remind him of that.â The two of them giggled to themselves, gushing over how hot your boyfriend was for a couple more minutes before leaving. You didnât step out of the cubicle until you were sure that you were alone, hot tears running down your cheeks.
Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the fact those girls had said everything youâd been thinking for the last few months youâd been together, you werenât sure, but something about their words had hurt your feelings; and had sent you into a spiral. You sat down on the plush purple chair, breaths coming out rapidly and shakily.
âOh my god, what happened?â You hadnât even heard the door open, but as you turned your head you found Sarah rushing at you. She knelt down next to you, holding your hands as you let out fearful whimpers. âFuck. Okay, stay here, okay? Donât move!â She ran back out and you stared at the door, holding your chest anxiously.
Only a minute later the door was swinging open and Rafe was storming in, striding over to you. âHey, hey. Look at me,â he demanded, gentle but firmly as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. âBreathe for me, okay? Slow breaths, you got it.â
Heâd seen you like this a few times, heâd learnt the best ways to get you to relax. He held your hand over his own chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath your palm. He gave you a reassuring smile as you copied his breathing, gripping onto his fingers.
âGood girl,â he drawled, pulling you from the chair into his lap where he sat on the floor. He stroked your hair, leaving gentle kisses over your cheek. âYou want to tell me what happened?â
âItâs stupid,â you croaked out, still gripping onto his hand.
âNo. Itâs not. Tell me what happened, so I can sort it out and get the both of us out of the womenâs bathroom,â he joked, making you giggle tearfully.
You gave him a wobbly smile. You didnât have much of a choice now, it was time to admit to him the insecurities youâd had over the last few months; the ones that kept you up at night as he slept soundly beside you. âNo one here thinks Iâm good enough for you.â
âWhat?â His face scrunched up in confusion. âBaby, whatâre you talking about?â
âIâ Iâm a Pogue,â you whispered, as if you were admitting a crime.
âI know that,â he shrugged. âIâm not that oblivious, sweetheart. Why does that matter? Why are you saying this now?â
âBecause everyone thinks it Rafe! Iâm sure you have before, I know I have! Everyone here thinks youâre an idiot for being with me, that youâve lost your mind. Maybe theyâre right,â you cried out.
His hands grabbed your face firmly, leaning his forehead against yourâs as he held you in place. âYouâre the love of my life.â
âWhat?â You murmured.
âYou are the love of my life. I donât give a fuck if youâre a Pogue, I donât care that you eat pizza like youâve not eaten in years, or that you swear like a pirate. Youâre my girl, and I love you. I donât care about other peoples opinions, because theyâre irrelevant,â he explained slowly, caressing your cheek as he spoke. âNow, do you want to go home or do you want to get the biggest bottle of champagne and make fun of these losers?â
âThe second one,â you whispered, staring at him like a lovesick puppy.
He smirked, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. âThatâs my girl,â he mumbled, biting down on your bottom lip lightly to make you giggle. âNow, next time you get some dumb shit in your head you gonna tell me? Or do I have to spend all our loving conversations in the bathroom?â
You laughed, wiping your teary eyes as he helped you off his lap and back to your feet. He adjusted your flower crown with a cheesy grin, looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars. If you didnât believe his words before, you definitely did now. âYou donât like the bathroom?â
âWell⊠itâs definitely nicer than the menâs, Iâll give you that.â
386 notes
·
View notes
Text
"you've been playing with my patience since this morning" rafe huskily murmured in your ear as he thrusted into you without any mercy, your pathetic whimpers only increasing his desire to see you ruined beneath him for the rest of the night. "acting like a fuckingâ" a grunt broke the sentence. "â a fucking jealous bitch, mhm? isn't that true?"
to your lack of response, he rewarded you with a thrust hard enough that your nails nearly broke under the pressure of your tight grip on the white sheets that would soon be stained by the aftermath of your burning moment of passion. your whole body shook, followed by the bed's headboard hitting the wall - and you were sure it v leave marks on the paint of it. "like i can look at someone who isn't you" he later added with heavy breathing,
his darkened eyes, which seemed gray at the moment, scanned your face the entire time, enjoying how it changed depending on the pleasure you felt. his gaze then stopped on your swollen and red mouth, and with the thumb of his free hand, he traced your trembling lower lip. "open" he commanded lowly, not even stopping his movements.
rafe could practically feel your reluctance, so he gave you two small pats on the cheek, firm enough to make you understand his seriousness. "open" he repeated, tired of your games. when you finally complied, he simply smirked a little, looking at that perfectly erotic scene before him. he then prepared just the right amount of saliva in his mouth, before spitting precisely into yours, your tongue almost entirely covered in that intruder. his thumb slowly made its way inside your warm mouth, resting on your wet tongue as he smeared all his saliva on the muscle, his head tilted as if he was treating a piece of fucking art and needed concentration.
he then hummed contentedly, and as he did, he could feel his orgasm building up, balls tightening. with his own fingers placed under your chin, he made your mouth again, watching you swallow because you already that was what he wanted. "see? you can be a fuckinâ good girl when you want it. you jus need to make me crazy" he said, words mixed with low groans as the hand he'd used beforewent to encircle your neck for a little more stability.
"i need to cum, please" your sweet voice finally reached his ears, which made him raise an eyebrow as his intention was already to release himself into you. but for you? he still didn't know whether to let you come or not, whether to make your punishment worthy or let himself be fucked by your big, bastard eyes that were begging him so good.
"let me come first, yeah? then I'll see what to do with you" he simply told you as his head fell back in total pleasure, and in response you only cried out his name again once. not that he cared too much, though, because the white of his cum had already colored your insides before you could even protest. bad luck for you, he guessed. maybe next time donât be a total, fuckin whore.
@secretlocket @waitforyrlove @sirenedeslily @freshloveee @zebonos @sosasturns @zweigsangel @sturn777 @sturniolossss @jetaimevous @ilovedanielcaesar @rafespreciosa @deansbeer @sweetestpoetic @carvedtits
#outer banks#outer banks rafe#rafe cameron#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#smut#spit play#18+ mdni#rafe#obx#obx4#drew starkey
188 notes
·
View notes
Text
Someone else broke my life.
They should have to fix it.
I have repaired the damage of my shitty childhood and my shitty economic system and built a life I wanted to live like 3 times already.
I'm not doing it again.
If someone wants me to not rot in bed until I find a way to kill myself that sticks and is permanent for once...
Idk if this is a real ancient Chinese thing or something they made up for a shitty movie, but if you save someone's life you are responsible for them.
I feel like I am not responsible for what happens to me. I am not in control of my life. I keep saving my life and "doing the work" and in return not receiving personal autonomy. I'm not saying personal autonomy like blah blah blah toxic hyper independence you suck I hate you blah.
I'm saying I should be able to do the work and live alone and not have sudden random drastic fluctuations in my income, I repaired my credit and saved a huge emergency fund and lost it and now I'm in debt worse that before. I should be able to make friends and romantic liasons and business relationships with people where they don't fuck me over on the way out and they just wish me the best of luck. I should be allowed to be easily able to afford the things that make it easier to live with my disability without having to justify them to anyone and I should be allowed to tell people to fuck off if they are mean to me, and I should be allowed to know that if something is wrong in a social setting that people put on their adult underwear and tell me in words what is wrong before retaliation against me, and that my disability won't be used against me, and that I can tell people details of my life when they ask for them without having to worry that later they will intentionally use them to humiliate me, and I should be allowed to live in a society where we normalize the idea that people who follow the rules but use them to fuck people over are to blame for their own actions and the people who are pretending to be so hamstrung by the rules that they can't help are actually just as bad and the people who tell you it's your responsibility to do better and share dubious advice with you are on thin fucking ice.
Literally I built myself a little tiny micro version of that in my own life.
And then someone came and violated me and took it. And they did it in such a way that they will never face consequences and I have to know that no matter what I do, they could do that to anyone.
Building anything is pointless.
Saving my life is pointless.
Living has no value if it's only your breath and your lungs.
I'm not saying I won't work, I worked on my business for years before I got a dime, I worked 6 to 7 days a week when I had it running well for the majority of the time. I'm saying I'm not going to run at some fucking football and pretend that I'll be able to kick it this time.
The only thing I am willing to put the bare minimum of effort into is paying my bills and trying to figure out how to die in one shot relatively easily alone in my home.
I don't want to take anyone with me or die in front of anyone. And I don't want to heal. I did that. It took years and years and every time I got close and once I did, people just came along and retraumatized me.
It didn't even take much time or effort on their part.
So what I am going to do is die.
All of you are going to watch.
That's what you wanted.
You wouldn't be satisfied with anything else.
People have been coming at me and attacking me and spiting me and backstabbing me and betraying me and liking to see my cry my whole life.
Offering them something else hasn't worked. Hiding hasn't worked. Compromise hasn't worked. Begging hasn't worked. Therapy hasn't worked. Drugs, legal and prescription. Friendship, love, philosophy, religion, witchcraft, meditation, hypnosis, vice, virtue. None of it has worked.
You wanna torture me to death?
Here ya go.
If you didn't want to torture me to death, this wouldn't have gone on for three goddamn years straight.
If you wanted to not hurt me, you would have stopped hurting me when I said you were hurting me.
This was never what I wanted ot what I agreed to or what I asked for.
âno one else can save youâ ok cool well i donât want to do it. i do not view myself as worth saving anyway. godspeed
484 notes
·
View notes
Text
áŻáĄŁđ© was it casual?
pt 2. to : why'd you only call me when you're high
pairings: se-mi x fem!reader
synopsis: fucking that shit attitude of hers out because what the fuck?
warnings: smut, sub!se-mi, fingering, pwp(?), pathetic!se-mi, squirting, edging. lmk more lolz
a/n: lord knows we need a sub se-mi in our life once in a while because whimpering and whining se-mi will make my phone switch from my right hand to my left :P also i'm shit at endings but wtv at least there's sub se-mi and i'm fine
the morning after, you decided to ask her when her head's clear. "se-mi?" you hummed as you watched her fumble into her clothes, your chin resting on your palm.
"yeah?" se-mi replies, looking down at you, all sprawled in bed, looking disheveled. she swallows her dry throat, trying to keep her thoughts pg-13 as she buckles the belt of her pants.
"about last night..." you started. you could see her pause before continuing on her ministrations. so she had noticed. good. or bad? you waited for her reply in silence as she tried to not meet your eye.
"it was nothing," she finally replied after a moment, looking dead into your eye, her face unreadable. "i was high,"
that made you scoff to yourself. "of course it was," you mumbled, your gaze fleeting downwards as you fiddle with the loose threads of your blankets. it always was nothing.
"hey," she says firmly, placing two fingers under your chin, making you look at her and meet her gaze. your eyes subconsciously wandered all over her face, as if it were memorizing every single eyelash and freckle for your suffering later in the dark. you swallowed hard, you watched how her piercings glinted against the open sunlight. fuckâ why does she have to be so hot all the fucking time? it made you wonder what it'd be like to share something more than fucking with her.
"it was a mutual agreement between us," her voice snapped you out of your daze. "no feelings involved."
that made you swallow the lump in your throat, your heart sinking lower and lower deep into the trenches of your sorrow as se-mi lets go of you, pressing a kiss on your forehead as a farewell. "i'll see you when i see you, yeah?" she says, taking her jacket and opened the door to your room. "and remember, this thing between us is just casual," she says casually before closing the door behind her.
nothing was casual about it when you had her helpless on her own couch, squirming and crying as she begged and pleaded while your hands expertly circled her clit.
"b-baby... please, i'm sorry," she begged, sobbing as you denied her for the nth time that night. her hand tried to snake up your hips but you swatted it away. "no," you said firmly, which emitted a whimper from her pretty lips.
se-mi didn't know what she was apologizing for. all she knew that this was somehow a sort of punishment she did a while back. she whined softly, bucking her hips up to your hand for more friction after you ghosted your fingers over her clit. however, she shriveled when she saw your glare, her lips forming into a small pout, akin to a child that had been scolded by their parent.
her mind raced, trying to find the reason for this 'punishment'. surely it was nothing serious right? she traced the day's events in her mind. you messaging her you'd be around tonight, work, lunch, work, had some breakfast at this new dinerâoh. her realization hit her like a ton of bricks, at the same time, you inserted two fingers easily through her tight walls, which made her moan loudly, her hand latching onto your arm, throwing her head back and rolling her eyes in pleasure.
"ah- ah- ah," you tutted as you removed your fingers from inside her and swatted her hand away from your arm. "no touching unless you don't want to cum, do you understand?"
se-mi whined, her lower lip trembling, mumbling incoherent apologies. "princessâ sweetheart... p-please... please, i'll be a good girlâ i'll treat you better than before," she panted heavily, another set of tears forming in her eyes, ready to fall again. her begging fell deaf into your ears, however as you pinched her clit harshly. "do you understand?" you asked firmly, staring deep into her eyes.
se-mi yelped, tears down her cheeks. she nodded fervently, desperately grinding her hips down your hand. "words, darling," you cooed as you captured her lips with her, your tongue slid out to fiddle with the piercing on her lip, the metallic taste mixing with her usual taste of cigarettes in your mouth. you pulled away, making her whine and push forward to chase your lips. "words, se-mi. i want to hear words from you," you say, pressing a finger on her lips.
"please," her lower lip trembled, her eyes wide as begged. "i understand, just please..." she whispered.
"mmhm?" you hummed, capturing her lips again, sloppily kissing her as the lewd sounds of your fingers pushing in and out of her wet cunt filled the room. "fuck, you're like a waterfall at how wet you are right now," you gasped against her lips as you watched her wetness stain the couch below her.
"babeâ princessâ please..." she whined, rolling her eyes backward. "shhh, don't worry darling," you cooed running a hand through her damp hair, thrusting your fingers faster as you watched her build up her orgasm.
"i'm gonnaâ pleaseâ" se-mi pants loudly, gripping the blankets beneath her tightly as she lifted her hips, screaming your name.
"fuck, baby, that was so hot," you murmured amusedly as you watched her squirting.
"you think you can do that one more time?" you mumbled in her ear after she came down her high, running a hand through her hair lovingly.
safe to say after that, her attitude towards you had somehow changed. she'd stay with you in the mornings, make you breakfast, pick you up after work, and makes the best aftercare baths for you. she even asked you out on a proper date! all because you fucked that attitude out of her.
#se mi squid game#se mi x reader#se mi#se-mi#se-mi squid game#se-mi x reader#squid game s2#squid game x y/n#squid game#wi ja hoon#wu luh wuh#lesbian#squid game x you
186 notes
·
View notes