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occamstfs · 2 months ago

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Start-Up

Gabriel hates the start-up he works for. Though this morning it seems there are more immediate things he should be concerned with as men something strange begins to change men around the world.

Couldn't let all these other authors have all this fun without me! Here's my own take on the theme of Viral Transformation! Now I did muddy the waters a bit by setting my virus story at a social media start up but I think it works haha! Do check out the stories by all the other amazing writers who took part!!! -Occam

There was something strange going on in the city today and Gabriel wasn’t quite sure what the cause was. It’s not like there’s a commotion or anything, on the contrary; the streets were quiet but there was just something sinister in the air. He works for a new social media start-up in the wake of most of the big platforms collapsing, succinctly named Web. Gabriel didn’t have a ton of faith in the app and was growing increasingly tired of dealing with the CEO’s inane demands but hey, as long as checks keep clearing.

Reuben’s, said CEO’s, most recent crusade was banning the use of any competing sites or networks on company property, which unfortunately includes Gabriel’s personal devices. Who knew start-ups could be so draconian, though when the rich boy in charge has a fleet of lawyers and the lowly programmer just needs to make ends meet that’s how it goes it seems. All this to say, Web is thus far incredibly unsuccessful as a news platform and poor Gabriel is unable to see the chaos going on in the city behind closed doors as he walks into work.

The programmer artfully misses chyrons scrolling past telling all men to stay indoors and not to make unnecessary journeys as he mindlessly scrolls on the app he has spent countless hours producing. “Ugh.” Gabriel rolls his eyes as he sees post after post from thoughtless gym bros. Reuben swears this is a massive demographic for them but the programmer has constantly spoken up to the contrary. What could they possibly gain by making yet another platform for men who could barely read. Any indulgence or encouragement towards this demographic was sure to push away more reasonable, serious people.

Eyes still glued to his phone in search of any shred of news, Gabriel doesn’t notice the state of the receptionist as he wanders past to take the elevator up to the office, “Morning Ron.” Only after a few seconds with no response does the coder finally tear his eyes away to see the young man in quite a disheveled state. He chokes back a gasp as he sees Ron quickly remove the hand that was shoved in his pants as he too only just notices the presence of his fellow man, “UHH Morning Gabe- I was just uhhh, getting something out of my pocket?” His rapid movement sends the sound of fabric tearing through the air as whatever remains of the button up he was wearing falls in pieces to the floor.

Desperate to put this encounter behind himself Gabriel mashes the close door button in the elevator. “Ron can’t have been masturbating just now.” he assures his reflection in the elevator doors. “He’s a good kid, smart kid.” He says of the man maybe five years his junior. Still, at the very least Gabriel is surprised that he came to work wearing clothes that clearly didn’t fit? He can’t help but summon the intimate look at Ron’s body he just received and can’t imagine how the receptionist bulked up so quickly? He can’t think of a single occasion of Ron mentioning going to the gym.

Elevator clicking ever upwards he figures Reuben must be to blame, first he wants lunkheads using our app and then he convinces employees to waste time at the gym. Ah! That stupid gym! Gabriel punches a fist into his own palm as in the back of his mind he remembers the CEO taking up valuable office space to create a company gym for any employees to make use of. One of the many ‘benefits’ of working on Web. “God I hate startups.”

The elevator doors clink open and Gabriel exits to find the office space seems to be a ghost town. No one is using cubicles and he only sees a few of his fellow department heads have made it in so far. He grumbles to himself, “God-damnit if today could have been work from home I’m leaving now…” Despite his irritation, he enters his office and immediately starts getting to work. Waiting on his desk is a short list of suggestions on how to improve the platform from Rueben, which he promptly discards with little ado. Checking his own to-do list for the day he finds a one on one scheduled with one of the few coworkers he actually respects, Alexander Blainely, head of marketing.

Most of the other executives were yes men, but Alexander seems to have an actual head on his shoulders. Gabriel always finds their meetings far more stimulating and productive than most other drudgery that goes on in this office. Returning into the open workspace, Gabriel shivers as he feels something in the air yet again. Completely unplaceable, it’s almost certainly nothing, but he remains on edge. His discomfort only grows as he nears his friend’s office and his hitherto directionless uneasiness finds a source. Hearing somethin a little more than disconcerting he whispers under his breath, “what the fuck? Is that moaning?”

Barely audible when he shuts the door of his own office and wanders into the otherwise silent suite, it increases in volume with each step towards that of Alexander’s quarters. Gabriel grits his teeth and rages in his own mind for trusting anyone in this god-forsaken venture to treat their job with a shred of dignity. Arriving at the door and confirming that the man is clearly exerting himself somehow with a clear disregard to decency in their shared workspace, Gabriel scrunches his face and takes a deep breath. Hesitating at the thought of catching someone he had thought was a compatriot in flagrante delicto, his ire overcomes his usual prudence and he barges in. Never could he be prepared for the sight that awaited him.

Alexander sits on his work desk masturbating with his eyes closed as he rapturously traces over a muscular body that Gabriel flat out knows he has never had before today. Tongue lolling out of his mouth and dripping with drool as if he were a dog, Gabriel can’t help but loose a gasp as he sees with every pump of his cock, with every fervent breath and heady gasp from Alex, his body is continuing to change.

Seconds pass and his skin browns with an unnatural tan under the LED lights in his office. Meanwhile he continues to surge larger, biceps already larger than when Gabriel stumbled in, the head of marketing’s shoulders pack on muscle as his neck thickens and his whole torso widens with strength. Thighs bulge meatier as his cock quivers higher, stretching inches further into the air as his already massive balls pulse larger. Gabriel’s gasp announcing his presence, the masturbating man opens his eyes and, almost as if it were a defense mechanism he loses control and cums.

Gabriel can’t tear his eyes away from the titan at the moment of his release. Every already massive muscle on his body expands as veins bulge out from the clear stress of the transformation. As load after load shoots out in inhumanly quick succession, Gabriel freezes as he sees facial hair and body hair that somehow already looks shaved begins to decorate his beyond masculine form. Sweat glistening off the man’s sculpted body makes him aware of the aura of musk that has clearly been filling this room, one that is impossibly similar to the general malaise that he has been assailing his senses all morning. Finally realizing what is happening in front of him, Gabriel slams the door shut and sprints down the hall, accompanied by nothing but his own gasps of exertion.

He doesn’t take a second to think until he’s safe back in the sanctum of his office. The only place since this morning where he hasn’t felt the dreadful haze that he only just became totally aware of. Hopefully safe here, he allows himself a moment of reflection, connecting his brief encounter with Ron and his unfortunate meeting with what can’t have been Alexander. “Fuck it.” He starts to pull out his cell to check the news but before he can make any progress, he realizes there is something warm and sticky on his shirt. Looking down to see what it is he immediately drops his phone and tears off his suit. God. Some of that must-be imposter’s cum got on his button up. He throws the shirt away and scrubs at his skin where the man’s fluids got on him with fury. Using hand sanitizer like it’s a cure he scrubs and scratches until his skin burns red and raw.

After he’s confident he’s done all he can to remove any trace of Alex from his body, Gabriel grabs the backup shirt he keeps in his desk for just an occasion as this. Or rather, in case he spills coffee on himself or some other accident that makes sense at all. His mind craving any degree of normalcy the thought of coffee stays with him. Oliver should be making it in about now. His pulse begins to quicken as he feels concern for the intern, in fact it’s racing far faster a tempo than it usually reaches at its most accelerate. Putting his hand on his wrist as concern for himself eclipses that of Oliver he finds both come to a head as his door opens and he falls out of his chair in shock.

“Jesus Oliver, knock next time!” The programmer shouts cowering behind his desk. Oliver quickly sets down his handful of mugs and goes to help his boss up, “So sorry Gabe! I just saw you were in and you usually don’t mind at all.” Standing up, Gabriel inches behind the intern and quietly closes the door, he looks Oliver up and down for anything out of the ordinary. “Are you, feeling alright Ollie?” The man purses his lips and pats himself down, clearly not in the same headspace of his usually stoic boss, “Well, I believe I am sir? Is, uhm, everything alright with you?” Oliver’s eyes flicker around the room seeing the discarded clothes and taking note of his boss sweating more than usual. In fact Oliver isn’t sure if he’s ever seen the man really sweat at all, “Did you want me to switch for an iced coffee?”

Gabriel rubs his face and is similarly shocked to find himself sweating, “Ugh. I think this job might be getting to me. Have you seen anyone else in the office today?” Oliver puffs his cheeks and looks at the mugs he set aside, “No actually? Now that you mention it, Ronnie wasn’t even downstairs which seemed weird. I mean he’s always on that grind to try and impress Rueben.” Gabe scratched his beard and grimaced, usually he’s quite adept at compartmentalizing, it’s how he hasn’t blown up at the CEO thus far. But the impossibility of what he saw in Alexander’s office has left him shaken. His heart rate begins to rise once more as his mind returns to that scene.

In fact, it’s not the only thing that begins to rise. Suddenly his uncontrollable mind latches onto the image of Alexander’s cock expanding and then blowing its load and Gabriel’s own cock begins to stir. His face burns with blush as he can’t help but dart his eyes to see his usually unimpressive cock begin to inch its way larger down his dress pants. For his part Oliver, used to taking verbal cues follows his boss’ eyeline and balks as he sees the man thoughtlessly go to grab it. Oliver is struck speechless as the ever stark programmer bites his lip and begins rubbing his cock through the linen pants, “Jesus, uh- Uhm- Sir!?”

Immediately alert he wipes his face and sucks up the drool that was apparently beginning to pool in his throat. Gabriel grabs a tissue and wipes his brow, fervently apologizing to the intern, “I am so sorry Oliver. I don’t know what…” Oliver quickly waves him off, not so much bothered by the behavior as surprised. “D- Don’t you worry about it Gabe, er sir. I’ll just be out here if you need me!” He backs into the door before stepping out with an awkward nod, leaving the coffee cups behind. Gabriel debates whether or not he should report himself to HR before he slams his fist against his desk chair as he remembers they haven’t an HR department.

Rage at his shitty start-up returning at an elevated degree he gets his head back in the game, despite the best attempts of his wanting package and balls growing bluer by the second. Concerned for whatever seems to be going on in this office, or worse in the world at large, he goes to the internet once more. Without much thought at all he opens Web and starts scrolling to find any information of use. Unfortunately for the higher functions in his mind the programmer is immediately assailed by the mindless user base he so disdains, and rather than feeling the ire he always does towards the dullards and hellions. Instead he finds himself possessed with a desire to drink in every last bulging muscle that presents itself.

Coworkers, friends, reporters- Everyone Gabriel has deemed worthy of attention on the nigh-worthless platform he is forced to use, even those who are straighter laced than Gabriel, have been posting smut on main. Industrious man he may be, the programmer is indeed but a man of flesh and blood, and that blood is rushing through him at a breakneck pace to give him the most intense erection he’s ever enjoyed.

It’s partially why he’s so adamant about diversifying their app, a weakness in himself for the male form; a weakness that whatever corruption that is beginning to rise within him is gleefully taking full advantage of. He tries to stay focused, return to his concerned research, but after taking a gasping breath he realizes that his own body has begun to produce the musky air that must be spreading the impossible changes he’s trying to get to the bottom of.

Staring at the bulging pecs and hairy asses of men he once respected, Gabe struggles to pay attention to anything but the cock begging for his attention as it begins to create a wet spot halfway down his leg. The zipper halfway undone by the growing beast alone is fully ripped asunder as Gabriel can’t help but full on masturbate in his office, just as he walked into Alexander doing but minutes ago. He tears off his button up with uncharacteristic aggression as it begins to impede his jacking off. As soon as his arms are exposed his attention leaves the app and begins to hone in on his own body. God has he always been so hot?

Gabriel flexes his biceps and smirks as he sees them peak higher than he’s ever imagined they could before now. Raising his arms also exposes his pits, a hotbed for musk and whatever impossible contagion hides within it. He forces his neck to crane down into his pit as sweat begins to stain the undershirt that is rapidly filled with new mass. Intended to be deliberately loose, pounds begin to pack onto his chest and push the garment to its brim, the cotton fabric sticks to his chest tight enough that it would be a struggle to get it off over his new pecs, hearing the sound of fabric straining his cock grows even harder at the idea that perhaps he won’t even need to take it off. He’ll just grow large enough that his massive body will destroy it for him.

This thought flitting through his mind, Gabirel loses whatever shred of self-control remains and goes all out in enjoying the changes happening to him. Rubbing his hands across his sweat-covered tank top and feeling the burning muscles building themselves underneath it. The sound of fabric straining and tearing fills him with pleasure he couldn’t fathom before now as he nears his first rapturous release. Sweat drips from his pits as they grow thicker and curls stretch further afield as to be ungovernable, ever focused on the task of spreading his scent. Steady streams of pre trail down his cock, lathering his hand as his whole body quivers with the anticipation of ecstasy.

Before it can arrive however he receives a scheduled video call from the man he wants to hear from less than any other. Clicking accept as he must, the disdain that Gabriel has always held for Rueben quickly comes to a head. Greeted with the image of a more muscular, just as juvenile, version of the CEO filling his screen, Gabriel can’t help but grit his teeth in rage. Hearing him laugh and flex as he begins playing with the special effects in Zoom, Gabriel doesn’t have a moment to realize that he’s continued to masturbate. Instead, much like when Alexander was surprised, his anger triggers him to cum immediately with no restraint, shooting loads all over the underside of the desk, his still thrusting hand, and the computer screen in front of him.

Rueben laughs even harder at the sight, his voice duller than ever as he chastises the programmer, “Yo bro huh! Don’t take out your anger on the little guy! You should head down to the company gym and put that aggression to good use bro huhuh!” Gabriel narrows his eyes as veins bulge in his neck. Unhappy that the CEO might have a point, he promptly slammed the shutdown button on his computer and stumbled to his feet, quite off balance from his powerful orgasm.

Quickly appraising his filthy condition, he shrugs at the cum covering his skintight clothes. Whatever, the gyms sure to be disgusting anyway, despite just enjoying release his cock bounces at the idea and he bites his lip to avoid smiling in excitement. Something at the back of his mind desperately begs for a second to realize he’s almost lost himself beyond measure. Unfortunately, with another deep breath of his own b.o. the man’s eyes fog over and he lumbers out of his office.

Turning with an awkward smile as he hears the head programmer’s office open Oliver starts to say, “Hey boss, hope your-” before his mouth falls agape at seeing the disheveled lug that wanders out. Still unsteady on his feet as they begin to tear the expensive leather shoes he had on, the man stumbles forward and catches himself on the intern’s shoulder. “Buh, sorry uh, Oll’” grimacing at the stain he left on the young man’s shirt, he wipes it in further and nods before heading off, “I’m uh… Gonna go check out the gym.” Oliver stares at what he can only guess is cum that his boss just smeared into his shirt before going off to the gym. Rather than confusion at his boss’ behavior or disgust at the surely hazardous substance on his shirt, he can’t help but sniff as something in the air begins to make him feel warm inside.

Sprinting down the emergency flight of stairs Gabriel leaves a cloud of musk in his wake as he works up more sweat than his body has ever produced before. Each bounding footstep skips an arbitrary amount of stairs as his legs lengthen. Quickly does he lose the few shreds of clothing that remained stuck to his growing form. After his feet finally burst from his shoes he leaves a clear trail of sweaty footprints that could surely be tracked by anyone who wanders past. Though any poor fool who should wander near enough to smell the slovenly detritus in Gabriel’s wake would likely find themselves lacking motivation to do anything but immediately lose their mind to senseless pleasure then and there.

Arriving in the gym Gabriel hungrily eyes the scene and is less than thrilled that he seems to be the only man present. Opting to throw on some clothes for no reason than to feel the friction of fabric against his sweaty skin he finds stained sweatpants littered on the floor and throws them on. After gratuitously appreciating his reflection and adding to the Pollock painting of stains that litter the posing mirror of their company gym, Gabe throws himself intuitively into every machine. He delights in the tension and pull of every straining muscle and grins through the pain as they bounce back larger than with every repetition.

He doesn’t spare half a thought about wiping down machines, and clearly whatever boorish louts used them previously didn’t either, much to his satisfaction. Each second of his body changing upstairs during his too brief session of self pleasure holds nothing towards the edification, the perfection, he enjoys now as he throws himself into a workout. It’s far more intense than his meager body should ever be able to maintain. Sweat drips from him like a waterfall as hair fans out across his form, rapidly expanding from shaved stubble into fluff that would hold and spread his scent for hours to come.

Taking a break to take a photo of his new beyond exuberant self, as he stands across from the mirror his cock instantly hardens and inches to its almost foot long length down the leg of his sweatpants. Immediately it begins dripping pre down his hairier thigh as he screams in bestial abandon. His brain is so far gone the idea of posting the steamy pics of his sweaty form on Web doesn’t even occur to him. Instead the only thoughts remaining to fill his mind are those to return to the gym and get back to the important mission of increasing his virile strength, or the even more pressing desire to fuck anything that moves. Unfortunately for him he can’t produce a single actionable step towards that end. So he shall simply enjoy his new body by his lonesome until some equally horny man stumbles into the company gym.

“God what is up with me today.” Back on the tenth floor Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose as he is overwhelmed with another headache. Ever since Gabriel paid him the brief visit on his way to the gym Oliver has been getting them with increasing frequency. He removed his shirt, not wanting to wear something fouled by whatever was covering his boss’ hands but the damage was already done. The idea that not wearing a shirt in the office is inappropriate moves further out of reach by the second. The intern scratches the back of his neck and grumbles as he feels a soreness in his arm and traps, paying no mind as his fingers trail through thicker hair spreads down from his hairline towards his shoulders. Typing away at his computer, each keypress moves slower than the last, his hands cramp as they suddenly bulge larger.

Taking the smallest second to appraise his changing form Ollie’s eyes widen as he sees there are two unmissable weights now hanging on his chest, sitting on a small gut that he has been making concerted efforts to do away with. Feeling up the new pecs he blushes as he feels stubble prickle his fingers. Rubbing them and feeling muscle give way to his thicker hands he can’t suppress the grin on his face as he feels the prickly hairs quickly thicken and curl longer, painting his chest with a beautiful forest of hair. His dick immediately surges to the largest size it can achieve in the confines of his dress pants.

Awash in feeling every new inch of his hairier, more powerful body Oliver stands up and gasps as he sees abs clearer than anything underneath the new layer of hair on his stomach. His knees give way as his hips uncontrollably thrust while he stares down at his form growing sexier by the second. He barely catches himself from falling with his right hand on the table as his body continues to hump his pants to no end, while his left trails across his body to discover the new surprises that cover each and every inch. Hesitant to trail towards the package bulging larger in his crotch, he traces his abs back up to his chest and rests on his clavicle. There does he find the greatest surprise yet, barely gracing the tips of his fingers, a beard beginning to push out on a face that has always been unfortunately clean shaven.

While it took browsing Web and the intrusion of his workplace enemy for Gabriel’s conscious mind to give in to the euphoria of being a new, greater man, the feeling of a beard inching thicker on Oliver’s face is more than enough to give himself over to anything. This alongside whatever corrupting virus is coursing through him to cause these changes, it’s no wonder he falls to the floor and begins thrusting a hole in his pants. His meaty thighs and monumental ass make light work of his dress pants as his cock angles itself upwards, out of the waistline of his impossibly tight underwear. Even while in the process of spraying load after load into the carpet of his office, his balls continue churning, always heavy and ever wanting more release. Ever demanding he find more avenues to spread his changes and heighten his own bliss.

Now laying on the floor, every exhilarating movement packs more pounds of muscle onto his bulging new body. More pressing than that however is the pelt making its mark everywhere it sees fit to spread. His pubes grow thick enough that no light shall ever touch the base of his cock again before they spread upwards to paint his stomach with dark curls. The deodorant he threw on this morning hasn’t a breath of a chance against the new musk that issues forth from his pits as the bushes therein grow thicker than that on his head before stretching outwards to connect with those new heady hairs he so delighted in on his chest. The hairs around his nipples grow thick enough almost to hide them as he continues frotting against the carpet.

His biceps burn with the effort of holding his body up as veins bulge down the diameter of his meaty arms, thick strands of hair quickly trailing behind to make clear his undeniable masculinity. He feels new curls itching against the back of the elastic band of his underwear as it only just hangs in there. Dark curls reach up the small of his back and quickly race to cover his ass cheeks like fuzz on a peach, creating a seamless jungle of curls from his hairy inner thighs to a dense thicket still inching higher on his back; growing into a forest perfect to be grabbed by anyone lucky enough to ride his prodigious cock.

After an especially vocal release, his shoulders burn as his traps bulge larger, which brings a certain someone’s touch to mind. Sniffing the air he finds himself in a haze of his own musk, though the musk smells awfully similar to that of the man who almost started masturbating in front of him. Following his more sensitive nose, the intern crawls over to Gabriel’s office and confirms his suspicions. Oliver smirks as he imagines that the horny freak is probaly equally wanting of a fuck buddy.

Pulling himself up to his feet on the doorway, he grunts as his knees wobble a bit and his cock tries to convince him that humping the floor is good enough. Staying strong and holding the human instinct that some things are worth the effort, he walks on feet hairier than paws and wider than flippers to the elevator where he begins a descent to the company gym. Snapping a picture to text his boss he smirks as he thinks despite what Gabriel always says, perhaps working in a start-up has some perks after all.

It isn’t clear precisely what happened on the Fall day when men across the Bay Area began changing into, well, sex-crazed beasts. Some assume it was some strange chemical leak. Others say that it was some spontaneous evolution, though to what end such pleasure seeking changes could help a species is unclear. Some particularly conspiracy-minded folks think the whole thing was a ploy by a Social Media startup that was taking off with men precisely like the ones who changed. Though at the end of the day it doesn’t quite matter how or why they changed but how to prevent it from spreading. Across the nation, men of every walk of life are rapidly changing despite taking the best precautions.

Closing gyms, quarantining those changing, racing to find any treatment to help those losing their minds and their bodies. Nothing seems to help as every day more men are blowing up with muscle, growing hairier with symptom spreading musk, and losing themselves to their uncontrollable lusts. At this point it’s seeming like there’s nothing that could possibly be done to stop the spread of changes, but hey, at least it seems like they’re happy.

#male tf #occam2000 #hair growth #mental change #musk tf #dumber #muscle tf #jockification #masculinization #male transformation

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patscorner · 5 months ago

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write a Paige fic with them being rivals on the court but secret lovers off the court please and thank you patty🫶

yes ma'am 🫡

Always and Forever

Summary: You and Paige hate each other, or that's what you have everyone else thinking.

wc: 1,780

Contains: swearing, two kisses, just fluff

______________________________

For as long as you could remember, you loved basketball. You don't know when it started, but you knew that it was gonna be your future career. You joined your first team in 5th grade, and quickly became MVP, making progress faster than you could blink.

There was another girl in your class, and for whatever reason, she hated you. She also happened to be on the same basketball team. She made it known she didn't like you, because the first day of tryouts, she shoved you for no reason. Her hatred for you didn't stop there though, she refused to pass the ball to you, even if it meant costing your team a game, or taking unnecessary risks.

Nobody knew why she disliked you, but that animosity only grew as you both did. But there wasn't anything you could do, you both loved basketball, and you weren't gonna stop playing because some kid didn't like you.

But what you didn't know is that she felt the exact opposite. She was so painfully in love with you and so deep in the closet that she didn't know what to do with these feelings. Her only solution was to make you hate her.

Another thing you didn't know is that you felt the exact same way. If an outsider were to look at you two, you'd think it was one of the most intense long lasting rivalries of all time. But you two were head over heels for each other.

You only found out your junior year in high school, because the teachers and coaches were tired of you both bickering. They put you two in a room and told you to figure your shit out. Obviously, it started in a screaming match, but eventually you both grew tired of arguing, and a different type of tension filled the room.

You both start to have an actual conversation, without the arguing and fighting. Of course, there were small jabs at each other, you both still weren't friends, but by the end of the day, you weren’t enemies. Nobody knew that you were gay, so the only solution in your eyes was to pretend to hate each other.

Eventually, she admitted her feelings for you, and you didn't say you liked her back, but instead answered with a kiss. You started dating shortly after, and decided to keep your relationship on the down low. You both know it's for the best, as not everyone was open to the idea of you being gay, including your parents, so you both continued pretending to hate each other.

Even if everybody else thought you couldn’t stand each other, you were so head over heels for the kid who hated you for all of elementary and middle school.

Little did you know that kid would end up being the Paige Bueckers.

“So how does it feel being matched up against Paige Bueckers? I know that you guys have a long history.” the reporter asks, her smile matching yours. Oh, you have history. She's been your girlfriend for about five years now, but the media didn't know.

You and her were never super far from each other, since she got accepted to Uconn, and you got a scholarship to CCSU. The colleges were only thirty-five minutes away from each other, so that made seeing each other much easier.

“Yeah, it's gonna be tough, she's a good basketball player, y’know, great defense, amazing three-pointers.” You smile at the camera. “I'm excited, I can't wait to absolutely destroy her. I've done it before, and I'll do it again, no problem.”

The reporter chuckles at your words. “Big talk, can't wait to see the match up. Anything last words for Paige?” You can't help but smile at the reporter’s egging you on.

“Yeah, give me your worst, Bueckers. I'm coming for you, baby.” You say with a wink, before thanking the reporter, and walking away. You can't help but shake your head at the ridiculousness of your empty words. Everyone but Paige thought you were being serious, and to an extent you were, you had a bet with her that you'd score more than twenty points this game, but the rest was bullshit.

Of course, Paige saw the interview, laughing at your ‘seriousness’. So when it was her turn to be interviewed, she had to say something back.

“I mean, it'll be a fun game. Can't wait to see the big game that CCSU’s ‘top player’ was yapping about.” She throws up hand quotations and tilts her head mockingly as she speaks. “I'm excited to bring her hell and knock her off that tall ass high horse she's sat herself on.”

The reporter is eating up every word coming out of Paige’s mouth.

“Lots of trash talk from both ends, it seems the feud continues?” Paige nods and smiles. “Always and forever.” She winks at the camera as she speaks.

Always and forever.

The words Paige made you repeat back to her when she gave you the promise ring that you had safety-pinned to your jersey at all times. When you first put it there, it sent the media into a spiral, rumors spreading like wildfires. When interviewers finally asked you about it, you said there was someone, but the rumors about who were all incorrect.

Nobody would've guessed Paige, and you both made sure to keep it that way.

The game was just as tough as you imagined it would be. With 4 seconds left in the fourth quarter, the score was tied, 89-89. It was the Huskies ball, and they had one chance to win.

Nika passes the ball to Aubrey from out-of-bounds, starting the shot clock. Aubrey sneaks past defense, and attempts to pass into Paige. But, Aubrey's defender blocks the shot with her fingers, sending the ball flying into your hands.

You react quickly, sprinting back towards the basket, watching as the shot clock hits one second. You're only half-court, but you don't have enough time to get any closer, so you take the risk and let the ball fly.

Just as the ball leaves your hands, the buzzer goes off, and the stadium goes silent as the ball soars through the air. You freeze as you watch the ball fall through the net, the crowd erupting into screams. Your shot went in, making the final score 92-89.

You're immediately surrounded by your teammates, who are chest bumping you, and dapping you up. This moment is something you never want to end, but there's something missing. This moment won't be the same without one thing.

You manage to wiggle free from your extremely hyped up teammates, ignoring your name being called as you make your way to the Uconn bench. You try to ignore the eyes on you, as you find the only person you want to ever have to look for.

When you spot the back of her head, you quickly make your way to her before your confidence runs out. You pull her sleeve, and her eyebrows furrow as she makes eye contact with you.

“What-” She starts, but you cut her off.

“I'm going to kiss you now.” You say, but you don't move. You want to make sure this is what she wants, but as the smile grows on her face, her compliance becomes clear.

“Okay.” she nods as her face turns a bright pink.

You grin as you pull her into a searing kiss, her hands finding your waist as she reciprocates your passion. You hear the gasps around you, which only makes you smile more. When you feel Paige grin against your mouth, you wrap your arms around her neck.

She pulls away, laughing as your whine. Even though there's thousands of people in the room, she only cares about you. “Guess they know now.” she chuckles.

“Paige Madison Bueckers! What the fuck?!” KK screams, causing Paige to roll her eyes and look over her shoulder. “Can I help you?” She deadpans. “I'm a little busy right now.”

KK’s jaw drops even more from the audacity. "I can see that, I better be filled in after."

Paige looks back at you and smiles. “Yeah, later. Now, do you mind?”

“Oh, by all means, continue making out with your arch-nemesis. Don't let me, the six giant cameras, or the sold-out arena stop you.”

You laugh at this, kissing Paige’s cheek before pulling away. You look at your team, and around the stadium, and everyone's sharing the same expression, jaws dropped, eyes wide, and frozen in shock. You look up, and see yourself on the big screen.

Paige smiles down at you, her arm still wrapped around your waist. “I can't believe you did that. You're fucking crazy.”

You shrug and smile. “You love it.”

She kisses the top of your head. “Damn right.”

After the excitement of the kiss calmed down, the same reporter from earlier asked to interview both of you, to which you of course said yes.

“So what is your guys’ relationship status?” She asked, pointing the mic in your direction. You smile widely before answering. “Paige is my girlfriend, and she has been for five, almost six years.”

The reporter shakes her head in shock. “What made you guys choose to keep it a secret and cover it up with a seemingly harsh feud?” This time, she hands the mic to Paige, who shakes her head.

“Well, it started out real. Like I could not stand her, ever since we were on the same basketball team in fifth grade. But eventually, I started to like her, then I started to love her. Turns out she liked me too, so in high school we started to date.” She finished with a shrug.

“Oh wow, I mean this is a shock to everyone. You both played it off very well. What were some of the hardest moments?” You nod as the reporter speaks.

“Probably pretending to not care, especially if one of us has a rough loss or a great win. It was hard not to comfort or celebrate publicly.” You say.

“So everything after junior year in high school was fake? The rivalry, I mean.”

You smile. “Yeah, it was all for the cameras.” Paige’s eyes light up as she looks down at you. The camera picked up on the sparkle in her eyes as she looked at you with nothing but love.

Her hands squeeze your waist as the interview ends, and you both walk away. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and you've never felt happier.

You knew that whether the world knew or not, it was gonna be you and her.

Always and forever.

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris

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writella · 10 months ago

Text

Screwed Up and Brilliant

Synopsis: Negan is ready for you. Daryl isn’t; and maybe he’ll never be. Negan makes that clear to you tonight.

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (mentioned), Negan is a bad guy but there is nuance— at least I hope I accomplished doing so, angst, guilt, forbidden love, probably super stereotypical, reader at the Sanctuary, moral dilemma reader (but you got to understand, they’re both so fine!!), I feel like I need more cws but I can’t think of them and of course, smut, 18+: consensual, unprotected, vague dacryphilia, soft? dom!Negan, lite daddy kink, fingerings, riding, and basically just Negan blowing your brains out… but not in the walker way— the good way, the way we like. Amen.

A/N: Could you believe I started writing this in October or something? This is my first time writing Negan and I’m scared I may not have gotten it right so definitely feel free to give notes! This is set during season 7/8, I’m picturing Negan at the end of 8 and later seasons but there’s something about him older that gives me heart eyes everywhere, but whatever you prefer makes me happy. Anyway, from my heart, and maybe somewhere a little lower, to yours; with love from writella. ♡

You’re screwed up and brilliant, look like a million-dollar man; so why is my heart broke?

—— LDR, Million Dollar Man

The space was clean; minimal. The kind that let out no secrets of the owner that inhabited its insides. And of course there were the little things that let out some slight details: the ashtray on the nightstand— a smoking habit; a ring, a metal chain, another of black rope— an unsuspected, albeit small, interest in jewelry; the bottom nightstand closed by a lock—mysterious and cautious, though that was to be expected. It was only reasonable he’d have something he wanted hide. But other than that, Negan’s bedroom was quite unreadable; almost purposefully mundane.

There was a fireplace, a window at the corner, and a bed at the center. It had a dark, brass, rusted headboard that leaned against the wall. Two pillows at either side. The sheets were white, and the large blanket was of fur, a tan or medium brown, it was thick and heavy. Probably unnecessary for the approaching spring heat, but it adored the bed end well; matching the other bronze, or brown, wooden and darker aspects of the room. Even the light from the small fire, though you could see clearly, made everything mildly dim— the Sanctuary wasn’t known for its brightness after all.

And truly, nothing in this bedroom, or in this fortress of a place could be described as anything close to bright. Unless you counted the sun outside in the courtyard, or the largest fireplace that blazed in the main hall, or Negan’s piercing, priceless smile— so pristinely white, so wide it almost looked painful to perform. There was an eeriness to it as well. That was at the forefront, and everyone saw it. With the way he maintained their cleanliness, it was something that could look so pure, so put-together on any other; but on him, its power could scare you into worthlessness. It’s the one he used when he told someone what to do even if they hated it; it’s the one he used when killing someone’s best friend.

It’s also the one he used on the first day he ever spoke to you. The first time that truly mattered, really.

It was during Negan’s first supply gathering at Alexandria.

You still remember it well.

Your faces filled with desolation, but chins held high; you were strong— good at hiding the pain, the fear— only straight, pokered eyes and mouths allowed as everyone silently agreed with you. You had told Negan that Maggie was dead.

The Widow, he had coined her. The wife of your good friend that he killed— so generous a man was Glenn, even when he wasn’t trying to be. And she’s your friend too, brave Maggie. That’s the one he wanted, but as far as he knew, she was gone.

Thank God, you thought, Thank God, yes, indeed, until—

Negan’s eyes glazed over your frame for just a moment too long.

You weren’t speaking anymore. You kept it short enough. He should have turned his attention back to Rick but he didn’t.

Where there was sly roguery in Negan’s eyes, anxiety weld in the looks of all others: Rick’s throat tensed and tightened uneasily, sweat trailing down his curls and onto his forehead; Rosita’s jaw clenched with bitterness, brows furrowing under her green khaki cap with anger; and then there was Gabriel: his eyes turned from solemnity and pretend peacefulness to wide bewilderment. The plan you two exchanged had worked: you would tell Negan of Maggie’s passing, as per your idea, and Gabriel would swiftly solidified your lie by saying he was the one who officiated the short funeral. But then, another problem arose; one where he could be nothing else but helpless in aiding you. What was he, or anyone to do? It was easy to help Maggie, she was more than twenty miles away. But you, you were here. Right in front of him.

“Wait a minute…” Negan’s pointer shakes lightly by his temple, his mind turning curiously. “You.” He said, shooting his finger in the direction of your chest.

His smile, mischievous as ever, only grew wider as a moment passed and he made his realization: “You’re the one with that- tight- grip!” He balled his raised hand into a fist as he said it. A slight snicker came after, proud of his entendre. “My men were tryna put Daryl in the trunk and you latched onto his foot like it was your dying- act- which—” you attempt to lessen the startle in your eyes at his upward hitch in tone, “—it most certainly could have been.”

Negan comes closer now, his face nearing your own, “But you know better now, right?”

Obviously, you did not.

Or you would have stayed home, not given him the chance to remember you as he said he would after your nails could no longer claw into Daryl’s ankle. He was thrashing too much and Negan’s men pushed you away; they were too strong together against the two of you. They kicked dirt in your face for it, held a gun to your head until Negan told them to stop. His point was made with your two friends he had killed, no need for another— especially not one who amused him like you had just done.

‘DAYUM. She is surprisingly strong!’ He had yelled, ignoring the weeping faces of you and the group kneeling in a line on the ground; sweat, blood, and tears dripping everywhere. ‘And I do like ‘em loyal…’ He had given you a once over while telling his men, ‘Hands off, gentlemen,’ and before returning his attention back to Rick, he added, ‘I’ll keep my eye on you.’

And he did.

You made an impression.

Now you’ll pay.

Rick should have told you why he wanted you to stay with Judith. He remembered what Negan said too. He remembered what Negan said to everyone. He couldn’t forget. But maybe it didn’t matter. It was only the start of Negan’s day here. Maybe he would have found you anyway.

Rick would feel it was all his fault nonetheless, but all you could think about is how truly, it was your own, and no one’s at all.

The sun allows glints of wickedness to sparkle in the whites of Negan’s teeth as he continues imparts his demand, “From now on, don’t stop me when I’m giving an order, okay?” It’s like you can hear him underlining his words just with his darkened voice. Turning his waist, he extends his hand to everyone as he finishes, “And that goes for all of you.”

You force your face to remain leveled as he meets your eyes again, that cheshire look returning directly toward you. He curls his head to the side, whispering near your profile, “So… you’re his girl, huh?”

Your mouth becomes slightly agape. You don’t even realize it before you can try to close it. He asked the question of aversion, or at least that’s what you assumed it was to Daryl.

You knew it was just his way, that speaking about things like this might have not been his strong suit. Besides, there were more things to worry about almost all the time, but it still hurt to know that when asked, the only complete and honest answer there could be was no.

Your eyes trail down slowly, desperate to avoid his, and Daryl’s face— a few feet away from you— turning to the side, looking at nothing. He could not hear what was being asked, but maybe Rick did, Rosita and Gabriel too. It was unclear, but their eyes prodded with more tension, more worry, Daryl could register that, and even more so, he could not stand Negan’s face that close to yours; he was probably trying to make an advance on you, scare you, or both. He pretends not to care, but ultimately it’s useless. Negan detects your expression and turns to look at Daryl’s; he notices both failing attempts at impassivity.

“Oh,” he muses, voice returning to its normal volume, “or not, my bad…. I guess that does make more sense though.” He speaks louder now, casually, like he’s a close friend consoling you about your boy troubles, “I personally haven’t been able to hold a conversation with the guy either, and I’m just tryna be friends.”

Daryl was right. Negan was weaseling his way in. He snarls because of it.

Only Dwight hears this and sends him a warning glare.

You feel the sweat beading from your hairline to the nape of your neck. The danger felt from Negan’s presence was as thick as the sun’s heat that shone directly on the cemetery grove. It’s hard to look up and especially to look at him directly for that long as if he truly was the fire in the sky, so you look down again.

Negan pats your shoulder sympathetically, his hand then going to hold up your chin, his thumb tracing your jaw softly.

It makes Daryl’s arms twitch and his stance jerks forward, but he’s pushed back, Dwight beating him on the chest. It’s only once but you can hear it, everyone heard it.

It only makes Negan’s grin become more sly because— there it is— a reaction; an answer. It makes what he’s about to do that much more sweet: “Fuck, darlin’. I’m sorry. Idiot,” he tisks. Then more quietly he adds, “I’m not one though.”

This time it’s for sure: Rick caught that, and Rosita too. They give each other an alarming look as Negan continues to trail over your dispirited form, like a wilted flower. His hand lowers back down to your shoulder, then trails to your arm, to the elbow, and then off of you entirely.

Despite the feeling of Lucille under his grasp telling him he shouldn’t, Rick urges himself to speak before Negan says what they all know is coming. “Negan,” he starts, swallowing the slight shake in his voice, “would you like to see the pantry—”

“Did I ask you to speak, Rick?” Negan states, his frame still positioned in front of you. “I’m thinkin’ here… I’m thinkin’… particularly, that you should come with me.”

Daryl makes a sound that you couldn’t hear, for Dwight was already barking a “Shut up,” at him. Only the swat he gives to Daryl’s shoulder is what is once again heard by all.

You almost choke on your gasp, but you hold it in. Only letting out the faintest sound as you ask, “What?”

“You heard me,” he plainly says. “I mean, what do you even do here anyway?”

You almost felt embarrassed to answer.

“No, I’m askin’. Seriously. Does Rick actually utilize you?”

As you begin, your voice is still quiet, “I… I work in the garden, with the produce… I help tutor the kids… I go on runs, gather supplies. I cook. Help with weapons maintenance, I—” you stop, realizing your grocery list of jobs probably sounds pathetic to him, you’re like a chore boy, “— I do a lot. But everyone does.”

“Hm,” Negan responds, playing with his nails nonchalantly. Your thoughts come to fruition with his next words, “So you’re just everyone’s helper?”

He noticed the sad offense emanating from your eyes, so he raised his hands, “And those are important things to do, I mean it. It must mean you know quite a bit from everyone, that’s smart, and there’s no trouble in it. But… I saw you. I think you can do more.”

“How?” You can still only gasp out your words. “I’m not Maggie. And she’s not here.”

“No.” He brings up one finger, “But you’re clever,” you look at him confused as he brings up his middle finger to join the first, “and quick on your feet, that I now know.” A third and fourth finger comes up, “You’re strong, you’re loyal— things I’ve stated before.” Then the fifth he says with a smug smile, “And you’re a looker, I must admit.” He moves his hand to one side of his mouth, pretending to secretly tell you, “But that’s just a plus,” he winks. “And more importantly, it seems to me that just like most people in Prick’s community, you are undervalued and not paid attention to whereas I see potential.” He says it all so simply, he truly believes he’s offering you so much better that he finally ends by saying: “Hm. Yeah. I think you’ll be much better off with me.”

And so, with no true goodbyes said, in a van you went after Negan’s visit was done. A different one from Daryl’s, of course. Taken away from the first home you had in ages.

Before the trunk door closed, Negan gave you parting words: “You see?” He had said, “I told you I’d remember you, didn’t I?”

The words rang in your ears for the entire ride as they still do now, even more or less than two months later as you sit in his room.

Your heartbeat started to rise little by little as time went on and he hadn’t arrived. With the window allowing you to escape into thought, you were left to think about the last couple of days, and specifically, the last time you were in here:

You were sitting with him on his bed. You had asked if you could talk about anything other than the world you two lived in now, and surprisingly, he obliged. It was nice. Sometime later, he had finally opened that locked drawer.

You heard him suck his teeth, what he was getting seemed lost, which allowed you to take a closer peek inside.

There was a picture of a woman. The first wife? The only real one? You couldn’t tell and you wouldn’t ask, it would have been too much. You didn’t even get a good look at the woman anyway— part of her face was covered and he was fast. But he saw your eyes, so you decided to take note of the books you caught a glimpse of, pretending it was the only thing you saw. You try to think of something to say… It did make sense he was a reader, at least even mildly if that was all it was. The way he describes his ideals, his persuasiveness, his diction— it impressed you, even if you disagreed with a lot of it. It was almost ironic that the only cover you saw was of a dictionary, the more valuable ones probably hidden under. “Is that where you get all your big boy words from?” You asked.

“Some of them,” he joked back, composing himself.

It was strange to almost catch him off guard. It was so unlike him to allow it, but what happened next felt even more surprising.

Whatever he got from the drawer was enclosed in his hand. He put the free one on top of the other as he started, “Now… I don’t want you thinking I’m growing soft on you. I just thought you deserve it because—” and then his voice fades. Even Negan, the ever curse-filled wordsmith, was finding it hard to describe in any other way that he was pleased with something as absurd as you not trying to escape anymore. He knew you would probably think that was the only reason for a gift, but then he opted for something that even you couldn’t help but know was equally true, “You don’t seem to proactively hate me anymore. You’re here. I appreciate it, so I wanted to,” he says sincerely. “That’s all.”

Negan opened his hand, resting the piece in your palm— it was a locket; lovely and rusted floral engravings all over it.

You felt sad that you thought it was beautiful, and even worse for knowing the reasons why he was giving it to you. No wonder his voice had faltered.

You remember the soft shock and awe on your face, how you said thank you and how your face felt so hot when you said it, how he asked you to turn, and how you looked at him from behind you after he put the piece on. He was so close and it felt like he was coming closer. You don’t remember if that part was real, but you can see it so clearly that it must have been. Unfortunately, the only thing you remember for certain is that knock at the door that sent Negan away to handle whatever was going on downstairs.

Had you almost let him kiss you? Would you have liked it? Are you the most deplorable person for even thinking that while Daryl was somewhere else locked up at the time?

“I see they delivered my message.”

You return from your daze, your startle leaving as soon as it comes.

It was just him. There Negan finally was.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just come in. The door was unlocked.”

“I knew the meeting was gonna go longer than expected; thought you might as well make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to you, “which I see you did, and no—“ you were getting up from his bed, “it’s fine.” Negan sets Lucille near the door. He walks over to you, sitting down on the edge of his bed as well. There is a bit of distance between you two.

“You know, I came back the other day,” he informs, “I was actually going to talk to you last night, but then I heard you tried to leave. Again.” His eyebrows furrow, “We still on that?” He asks. “Thought we had a breakthrough the other night.”

“But after Carl—“

“—Carl,” he interjects, “came here all by his badass self, and for that, I did not lay even my pinky fuckin’ finger on him.” His hand goes to his chest, “I even took him home like a gentleman. And after I got here and found out they put you in a cell without supper, I had you back in your bed before midnight yesterday, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

“Seriously?” Your incredulity is hidden under the softness of your voice as you say it, but it’s cracking.

“As a heart attack. It’s your ex-people who don’t listen. At least I was nice this time.”

You sigh heavily, docility officially fading. You shake your head with a slight chuckle, “That’s hard to believe. Especially if you were gone for most of the day. I know what that means. You had whatever the fuck your version of fun is.”

He grits his teeth, holding his words back. You’ve gotten a little too comfortable with the back talk, and you especially shouldn’t be saying anything after the night you had yesterday, but he allows it.

This time.

Of course, he didn’t like you leaving, but he rather that it was Daryl who escaped than you. And based on the bruises: one on the side of your head, one high on your shoulder— he imagines you might have gotten pushed against a wall— and the light ones that littered in a couple of spots on both your arms— he could tell his men must have been rough with you as they brought you back. He didn’t like that; therefore, he lets you quip. Someone would be getting their own bruises for it some time later anyway. He would take your smartass mouth out on them to cover for it.

“Maybe,” he finally says. “Nothing was undeserved though.”

You breathe in, the back and forth was no use. “What happened yesterday?” You asked, losing the sarcasm. Your eyes peered into his for honesty, hoping to skip the sly replies and get to the truth. “Just tell me what happened at home.”

Home. You knew better than to use that word. In fact, you have just stopped using that word. He let out an exasperated laugh, but skipped the lecture. “You want the truth? Or just the SparkNotes?”

You roll your eyes lightly. You probably don’t even notice you did it. Despite the situation being discussed, it makes Negan’s head turn endearingly— your tone of voice, the things you say, the way you react to him… you still don’t realize how fresh you’ve gotten with him, how comfortable. But he sees it.

“Alright. Well, Spencer’s gone.” He reveals offhandedly, replying to your silence.

Your eyes do not widen, you know what gone means. You simply nod and try to not think about how the now-cleaned bat most likely looked before.

“And don’t tell me that you care,” he says, pretending to interject to your continuing silence. “You gotta know he was a small dick nepo-prick, right?”

You bite the inside of your lip, shaking your head slightly. You won’t give in to a cheap joke even if it was pretty accurate, so he beckons you by name, “C’mon, that was funny.”

Still, you give him nothing.

He sighs; taking off his leather; and sits near you on the bed, his hands cupping the ledge. “Thought we were finally over this quiet thing.”

“A lot has happened this week.”

“Like…” he prodes. He would only talk about it if you brought it up.

Your eyes shut tightly before opening again. You didn’t want to say it, but you had to. “You know what. Daryl.”

He states the fact plainly, “Daryl left you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice is fierce now. You can’t believe it. You won’t. “He’s not that kind of person and this isn’t an easy place to get out of— I obviously know that— he wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I know,” he jeers, “but he did and he didn’t bring you with him. Even though you were found trying to find his cell. That’s some real idiotic bullshit right there, isn’t it? From both of you.”

You glared at him hotly, you wouldn’t give it up, but unfortunately you had no rebuttal. Both of you would just continue on with the same argument, the conversation going nowhere. And not because either side knew they were completely right; in truth, neither of you actually knew what happened the other day. But in this regard, you felt there was no other choice: you believed in Daryl fully.

Because he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Right?

You continue shaking your head, trying to find something to say in retaliation as you feel your sureness withering. Separating you two was the smartest tactic. You now have nothing to hold onto. “He wouldn’t,” you repeat pathetically, “I don’t believe you.” Unfortunately it’s not quite enough, so he continues with a rant you know all too well.

“You don’t believe me?” He cups the ends of the bed more tightly, positioning himself closer to you. “When I’m the one who gave you the safest roof? Secure food, clean water, access to all these pretty dresses, which, I know you’ve become accustomed to—” and here it comes— “I saved you!”

Saviors and their “saving,” you sneered at it. What bullshit. “You didn’t save me.”

“But I gave you someone to talk to… Huh?” He taunts, waiting for your response but nothing comes. He uses it to his advantage, “You’re quiet cause you know it’s true.”

But you know something too. He says it before you can.

“Or fuck, maybe I just gave myself someone to talk to.”

You pretend you can’t hear the earnesty in it. “Stop,” you scoff. “Don’t treat me like I’m special. I was the second choice.”

“I think with my dick sometimes. You’re the only choice.”

You start to shake your head, your face is flushed; scared, hot, and a little bit of something else that you refuse to let out. Then the tears come— the room feels so big and you two are so close and there are so many feelings you’re trying to push down. “It doesn’t matter,” you say wearily, “You took me. And you took him. You hurt him, I saw his face.” Your voice begins to tremble, almost in unison with the tears that peak out on your eyelids. “And that outfit you put him in. He didn’t even look me in the eye.”

“Stop,” he warns.

“You didn’t even let me see him.”

“He doesn’t notice you.”

“You don’t know us.”

“I know you.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know you’re not happy… What about the other night?”

You ignore him, shaking your head: “You hurt my friends.”

“What about the other night?” He persists, his voice slowly growing louder. “What about every time I let you sit in on my meetings? What about how you have your own room? What about how I actually talk to you?”

“You let him get hurt—” the tears start to fall, there is a quiver in your voice but you still match his near shout, “And you almost killed Carl—”

“Shut up.”

“And you killed Abraham—”

He warns you by name.

“And Glenn! Maggie’s husband—”

“SHUT. UP.”

“The baby won’t have a father, Negan!”

His voice is low and grim as he demands you to “Stop. Now.” Negan grabs the sides of your neck as he says his next line, it comes out brisk and harsh and heavy like his touch as his hand wraps around your neck. “I knew you lied to me.”

Your voice is hushed, feeling his lightly pressed thumbs on the front of your throat as you speak shakily, “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Maybe not since you’ve been here, but did you hear yourself right now?” He pauses, allowing you a second to let it sink in. “You just fucking proved it.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. The baby, you had said. Fuck.

“See? Told you, you were smart.”

And he did. Brave Maggie. Clever you. That was his reason number one.

“You have to get why.”

His voice remains eerily calm. “I do.”

Another tear falls and his thumb presses its pad under your eye, spreading a tear on your face as the next one comes down.

“Negan…” you say. It’s a mix of a warning and a plea but you can’t tell for what, both fear and fire mix together because of his proximity. His touch and stare was dangerous, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was pleased he caught your slip up, thrilled to see you cry, but there was also something about it— his touch, his eyes— that was equally intoxicating. There was something more tender there as well, something you didn’t want to turn away from, he wasn’t as rough as you thought. Nonetheless, your answer to these conflicting feelings are ones of neglect, you stay your course. “You’re a bad person,” you tell him.

“Please,” he whispers back, “just stop.”

His eyes glaze over your features with an intent look you’ve only seen once before, it was that other night in fact. It’s almost gentle, but maybe it’s just pity, so you don’t let it stop you. “But you are.”

“Stop,” he pleads, then it’s hushed, “just stop…” he says, “just stop.” Then he starts coming closer. “Tell me to stop.”

And you know you should get up.

You should, you should, you should, you know it but— you don’t.

You breathe into it.

His lips latch onto yours; your heads tilt; you lock perfectly.

Everything after happens fast, the instantaneous mess of it all: he waited and waited, and of course he would. He was waiting for you to see it, to feel it. He thought the other night was the breakthrough, but no, it was tonight, it was how you didn’t back away just now.

His hand goes lower on your leg, nearing your knees so he can get under your dress, trailing up your thigh, reaching the inner side that’s pressed up to the other one.

His hand on your neck brings you in closer, traveling up to under your chin and jaw, holding you so tight, but so sweetly. All you felt was surprise. He slips his tongue in, it's deep and intense. He brings a velvet warmth that you’d never expect from him. It was paradoxical; a fiery heaven of a feeling.

He starts rubbing your clit over your panties, kissing his way up to your ear as he does so to ask, “When’s the last time someone’s fucked you?”

Your lips are parted, but you cannot speak, so he continues.

“Daryl never did, did he?” He asks in a muffle, continuing to kiss and kiss. “Who was before him?”

Again, no verbal response, but your breath does hitch at his touches. He continues to draw circles, your wetness now slowly dampening the material, making it easier for his finger to place itself between your folds, so he dips his hand under the band. That and his whispering makes you feel a kind of spark that shoots all the way down to where his fingers are touching. The first press of his thumb without any material in between forces a sudden heat to rise that instantly causes a flush of liquid to slip down your hole, it feels messier than it actually is until his fingers go lower spreading it everywhere. You were much wetter than you thought, and you can’t help how good it feels, how easily you’re responding to it.

Negan calls your name, holding in every cocky reply he wanted to give about how wet you are— he needed an answer to his question first. So he looks you in the face, making sure he has your full attention, “You’re fuckin’ with me, right?” His words are meant more genuinely than his tone implies. “Not at all during any of this?”

You shake your head small and slowly. No.

He laughs pitifully, he doesn’t mean it rudely, but he just can’t help it. A touch-starved baby at the mercy of his fingertips? “Well, god-damn.”

He felt like a rich man.

He begins to kiss your lips again, now pumping his fingers into you. Your walls tighten. It’s only two, but they’re his. It’s new and exciting. His kiss makes you lean into the bed, the force of his head and tongue going deeper into your mouth guiding you to lay flat as his fingers still play.

“I hope you know how fucking soaked you are,” he finally says. “You need it so bad that it feels this damn good with me only touching you like this?” You can’t help the way your body jerks up and he can’t help but be smug about it. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Your eyes grow vicious at his grin, you almost want to hit him, but you can’t. All you can do is suppress your moan into a quiet whine. He’s so magnetic— his touch feels forbidden but so right; his voice so alluring; and his midas touch pulls you deeper and deeper into a trance, you might as well be turning into gold. Other than the involuntary reactions your body makes as his fingers continue going into your hole, now slowly going in and out as his eye gloss over your body in your favorite dress that you wore the most, you’re left paralyzed; subjected to following his lead. Wherever he wanted to go next, you’d let him.

He takes his fingers from inside of you and you look up quickly. You made sure not to whine at the loss of contact but your eyes couldn’t hide your dismay. All he did was smile and quickly lick away the wetness.

“Just takin’ this off,” he tells you as his hands cross over to the ends of his white t-shirt, slipping it off and onto the ground, one of those small rope chains hitting his chin as he does so.

It was only his shirt but you’re struck by him: to see more of his ever present sun-kissed skin felt almost godly. He was pretty lean, not too lanky like his stature, but not too broad either. Light curves of muscles adorned his chest and shoulders and arms. His chest and abdomen were slightly hairy, a tattoo placed on the upper right side and you finally saw the other tattoos placed on his upper arms more clearly. They looked nice on him. He was so handsome. You felt more wetness peeking out from down below. He looked so big above you.

“Like what you see, beautiful?” That typical snark still laced his voice, but there was a genuinity to it as well. He wanted you to like what you saw; to like him.

His words make your face hot, eyes casting off to the side. It was easier to talk to him when you were mad at him, when it was about home, even just small talk about the Sanctuary; this felt… different. Just like the other night.

You had almost already forgotten that his charm worked this way too; in a kinder way— when his eyes are wide, when his smile is soft, when he calls you sweet names without the irreverent, quip-filled pretenses.

It made you have all the words on the tip your tongue: how handsome and sexy you could say he is, how much you liked his tattoos, even all the greys that littered his hair and beard l, or how, if you had to admit it, you liked that dumb shit-eating grin of his, but all you can do is lightly smile, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at your bashfulness. You finally nod. “Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes, “maybe.”

He starts undoing his belt with a laugh of his own, “Oh I know you’re a fuckin liar if you think I’m a maybe.”

As his pants drop to the floor he takes each hand and places them over your shoulders on the bed to ask, “May I take off the lady’s dress?”

Your eyes widened, your open mouth only letting out a sweet, surprised, and whispered, “Huh?”

“What? Didn’t expect me to be a gentleman?”

You try to compose yourself, calm the fire you feel all throughout your body, and pretend you haven’t already given in completely right when he kissed you. “I just didn’t expect it would be all this slow.”

He laughs inwardly, glad to see the personality he came to know come back after all that happened these past two days. “Just give me a moment,” he jokes back. “You think I’m gonna waste seeing the reaction of you watching my cock spring out just so I can shove it in fast? ” He comes closer, his voice lowers now, “Believe it or not, I don’t think you’re just some doll or a fuck-piece.” The groundedness of his voice is something you’ve never heard before. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already stated that I see you. And truly, I think you’re damn gorgeous.”

Your eyes are stars. How can you even react? He thinks you’re gorgeous and you’re taken aback. “Thank you,” is all you can quietly say.

“You’re welcome.” He responds with eyes that have never looked so honest, so soft. You get lost in them and he has to pull you back, returning to his question, “May I?”

You nod, quick and excitedly, “You can take it off, Negan.”

He grabs your hands and stands you up. You look up at his face and his fingers move to the ends of your dress, pulling it over your head.

The tips of his fingers trace your chest and stomach lightly, delicately touching your skin as if it’s porcelain. He grabs your waist and travels up to take off your bra, then pushes down your wet underwear.

Negan’s cock stirs at the sight, you’re so pretty and so ready for him. “And I didn’t even need to see it to know I was right.” Just like he said, you’re gorgeous.

Negan pushes down his boxers. Cock springing up. Big and veiny with a red tip. He was itching to get inside of you.

And there you were, eyes and mouth open wide, scared and excited all at once. You were intimidated but surprisingly not scared if it would fit or not. You would let him do anything to get himself inside of you, even if it hurt.

“There it is,” he says, pleased with your reaction. He comes closer to your ear now, pushing you down by the hips against the bed once more. “And trust me, if you like that, you won’t fucking believe how I’ll feel inside of you. Just wait.”

“I…” He wanted to make you feel good, you’re almost speechless. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He says, and then he places himself above you, admiring your glistening folds as he spreads your legs. He already lines himself up, he could look at you forever but he is in no desire to wait any longer. He pushes in. It’s a bit fast, a tight fit, it must have hurt you, but he’s too excited, he can’t help it. He lets out a hum and then a groan at the feeling of your walls enclosing him, and he hears you gasp at his size. He starts to pump into you immediately.

His face hovers over yours. His eyes study your features and he realizes he’s never been this close. Of course he hasn’t, he’s never fucked you, made love to you. He’s just now noticing the way your eyelashes curl, what birthmarks adorn your upper body or not, and how many earrings you may have, but most importantly, he’s noticing the way you react to him: the way your eyebrows might scrunch, or what elicits more pants and squirmings, the way your lips tug tightly against each other or open into ovals and circles depending on what he does, how he thrusts, where he touches, how he moves.

It all makes him slowly speed up. He can’t take it anymore. He kisses your neck and jaw— some kisses sweet, then others that are rough and he begins to pump and pump. Faster and faster.

“Oh,” you choke out before moaning, “ah.”

He continues, loving every facial expression you make until he finally speaks. “Alright. I gave you a break— now tell me how it feels?”

All you can do is whine incoherently.

“Excuse me?” He says more sternly. You know what he wants.

“Negan,” you whine again.

He stops. “Yes?” He asks all too knowingly. “Gonna use your words and tell me how it feels?”

You sigh, taking the hand placed on your hip and moving up toward the ends of your stomach, all the way up to your left breast. You let his hand rest there, feeling the heat and your quickened heartbeat radiating from the area. “You… you feel so good.” Your eyes are watery, “Amazing.”

You got him there, and he almost can’t help but start hammering it in, but then he remembers… he doesn’t have to help it. He could do whatever he wanted, so he does. He squeezes your breast, grinning wildly as he gives you one hard thrust. “Damn right,” he tells you, hearing your yelp before pounding fast.

You had always been quiet but he never quite saw you at a loss for words as you are now. Your mouth is completely open, your eyes threatening to roll back further, making sounds he’s sure you’ve never heard from yourself before. Have you even had it this fast? This big? This great? He knows it couldn’t be. And he’s the one who gets to show you. His eyes gloss over you with pride at the thought.

He grabs your chin to get you to look at him, “Who’s fucking you this good?”

You moan. You weren’t used to this. Your eyes roll back completely as he pounds into you with eye contact.

It makes him groan loudly, his jerks into you, letting out his own moan from the sight. “Oh fuck, baby. Don’t play with me.”

You give in, force yourself to speak, you can’t let this end. “You, Negan!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes!” It’s so hard to speak, it comes out so pathetically.

“Who's making you feel like no one else?”

“You, Negan, it’s you!” Your moan turns into a pant, “It’s you, only you.”

He comes closer, his nose touches yours. His movements slow, but they don’t stop. He’s rocking into you now. “Only me?”

You don’t even think, “Who else? It's only you.”

His teeth sparkle, “Only me.”

“Only you, daddy.”

He laughs cockily, “So Daddy’s making you feel this good?”

“Yes, daddy. So good.”

You feel the groan he makes travel right to your clit, making it throb.

He kisses you, the corners of your lips to your cheek and neck and collarbones and back up again.

He restarts his pumping into you but his head remains close to yours. You decide to wrap one of your arms around his neck, pulling his hair, and the other hand travels down his back, holding him close.

Negan breathes you in, his head near the crux of your neck, hearing every little sweet sound you make that he’s never heard before. It all drives him wild, but then his eyes open. A question comes out that surprises you both: “Am I ruining your life right now?” He quietly asks.

“That doesn’t matter,” you say, breathing heavily from his touches, your eyes are still closed.

“I think it does.”

“You make me feel like no one ever has…” The bliss you feel from his current soft strokes and touches making it hard to speak, your voice is so light. “At least I got to experience it.” You open your eyes now, fingers tracing the cross drawn into his arm, “At least I got to see the real you.”

Your eyes say more than your words do. There’s a yearning and a sadness, an answer to what feels right in this moment, but an insight that there are doubts that could creep up later the more that you think about it.

“Just keep going,” you tell him, “I want to see you.”

You want to see him, you do see him. His head connects with yours again, and you moan into each other's mouths as he keeps pumping. Your legs come up to his hips and you’re not afraid to be loud anymore, to tell him how good it feels, how much you like him.

He takes your hands and places them over your head, crossing his fingers with your. It’s so pure, so lovely even when he’s going so hard down below. You hear your breaths heavy and your bodies slapping and the bed shaking.

You think about his skin, and his scratchy beard against yours, and the way you hate how he can make you smile by making the most ridiculous and raunchy jokes, and the way you love his voice, the way you can’t help but to like the way he cares for you.

“Negan,” you say weakly.

“Yes,” he responds intently.

“I’m gonna come,” you tell him. “I think I can.”

“Come for me,” he encourages, moving one of his hands down to rub your clit. “C’mon.”

“I’m gonna come,” you repeat, edging yourself on. Bucking up at his thrusts and his fingers.

“You can do it. Be a good girl. Do it for me.”

You swear the fireplace blazes louder and bigger, lighting up the whole room as you yell out, moaning once more as you orgasm.

Negan finally breaths out after, holding in for so long, and comes after you. His hands place themselves flat on the bed and he pushes in fast, riding out the high.

He scoops you up immediately, holding you in his arms. He doesn’t want to let go.

You two stay there for a moment until you look up. His hand caresses your face, “What is it?”

“I…” you were embarrassed to admit that you weren’t ready for it to all be over yet. “Can I ride you?”

A wiley smile appears on his face. He has to admit, he’s a little shocked you’re ready to go again, but he’d never turn it down. “Well, of course you can, babygirl.”

He flips you over, completely ready, but instantly, you become hesitant, almost overwhelmed. He was the world, not you, yet you were now above him. All the allowance to touch him anywhere you want at your disposal.

He puts his hands under his head, arms flexing. An ever wide smile present as he waits for you to begin. “You asked for it. Don’t get shy on me now.”

Your eyes grow excited again, deciding not to hold back, and you start to rock against him. You place you hands on his chest, feeling him up, touching his biceps, hands going over his tattoos— you could stare at them, at him, for hours. You honestly think you’d lick his whole body if he’d let you. And of course he probably would. To feel big and proud and irresistible while you look like a little desperate freak? You wouldn’t even have to ask him twice. Thinking about it and about how full his cock is making you feel, stretching and reaching all the right places, makes you moan and whine. You bucked your hips wildly, humming and giving him “mmms” because of how yummy it feels. You could do this forever.

“Ah- uh- Negan,” you moan and your stomach caves as you whine again and you hurl forward, continuing to rock but your pace is faltering. It’s becoming too hard and Negan can tell so he takes you by the hips, helping you move. First continuing to let your grind and then pushing you up and down his shaft so you can bounce on him. You push yourself up again, hand on his chest, pushing against it and you bounce along with his help. This was fun. You try to go faster and faster. It felt like being a kid on a playground.

“Open your eyes,” he demands. “Look at who you’re fucking, sweetheart.”

So you do, and moan at the sight of him, “Ohmygod,” you say. “You’re so handsome, Negan.”

He's so proud of you. Enjoying your actions, enjoying your noises. He groans as he sees your breast bounce and it makes you squeeze against him.

“Good girl,” he coos, “finally listening when you’re spoken to, about to make yourself come on daddy’s cock again.”

He starts to rub your clit again and you continue to bounce. It almost hurts because of how overstimulated you’ve become but you don’t tell him to stop. Your hands come to reach the headboard, helping you bounce harder. He tells you again how much of a good girl you are, how he loves that you’re not stopping, then he tells you how dirty and desperate you are for wanting him again after he already made you come. But he’s obsessed. This is all he’s ever wanted since the day he brought you here. His hands trail up from your hips to your waist and breast and back down again. There is nothing more he wants than to fuck you or for you fuck him.

You look down. You both notice your necklace still wrapped around your neck, almost nearing between your breasts, bouncing along with all of you. It reminds you of why you're here, why he gave it to you. It makes you have the realization he had… Was he ruining your life? Were you ruining your own? But how could you be when it all feels this good? It was completely screwed up, but everything felt so magnificently brilliant. His touch is everything, his voice is everything, his body is everything. It makes your hips stutter, it makes you moan, and at last, it makes you come again. You ride your high, going and going and going until you fall into his chest. His hands come to hold you tight thereafter.

Unthinkable bliss is all that is felt for a long moment… then… your head turns to the window. You remember what is out there and what isn’t in here.

A tear falls down your cheek and he realizes what’s happening when it falls onto his shoulder.

It hurts him now. To see you cry. It’s not fun anymore. You feel it, yes. You see what he saw, it’s true. But you aren’t really his wife. You’re nothing that is his at all. You both know that as well.

It takes you a long time to speak, you have to force yourself, but you do. “You have to let me go now.” You say it sternly but there is a sadness to it; a small part of you wants to not mean it even though you completely do, even though you do wish to stay here, to be enveloped by his embrace— you simply cannot forget.

“Mm,” he shakes his head, remaining leveled, “you know too much.”

“I barely know anything,” you say. “And not that anything I do know matters. Knowing the way around the Sanctuary isn’t going to help anyone when I know there is no way we could actually get in…. And what’s more important anyway is that I’m not changing my mind and you’re not either.”

“I’m not.”

“And I can’t. I wouldn’t. And they’re not going to. Never…. And if some of them die…” A whimper almost leaves you but you manage to swallow it, “I have to be by their side, Negan. I can’t only hear about it. I… I can’t see it next to you.”

His lips are pressed firm, his jaw is fixed and tight, almost like he’s grinding down on his teeth. The breath he takes through his nose could be a heavy sigh if he opened his mouth, but he doesn’t. He keeps it all in.

You words and their weight hang in the air for a moment before he finally speaks: “One of my guys that watches the armory doors has a shift that ends at 6:00 am… but at 5:50 I’m going to come up to him and tell him he gets off 10 minutes early that day, that I’ll wait for the next person to come.” He lets his words hang in the air for a moment, your confusion spirals before he keeps going. “It’ll be fucking weird, but he’ll look dumb as shit if he questions me, so he won’t. Then when he’s out of sight, I’ll leave. The next person is coming right at 6. That’s all you get. 10 minutes. A little less really.”

Your eyes round slowly as the stun continues to sink in. He’s… letting you leave.

“You take one gun and one knife. Just one. Don’t make it noticeable. I’m going to check. Then you go out of the back door that’s inside.” He didn’t have to tell you the way. “It should be easy, I know you’ve tried it before.”

You look down, taking in all he says, but then he turns you face to meet his, “If anyone sees you, I’m gonna have to make a show of it when they bring you back. Not what I want. But if I get there before you get out, maybe 5:58, just cause I’m an asshole, just to see you one last time… And if I do, I’m gonna turn you around and you’re stayin’. Fair?”

You nod. It’s small and light. You don’t question any of it, you can’t. “8 minutes.” You respond.

“8 minutes.” His voice is neutral, but underneath there was a tinge of solemnity to it. “8 minutes,” he says under his breath.

“What about now?”

“Now?” He asks. He didn’t think about it. He assumed you would want to go after this, after you got what you wanted. “Well,” he turns to his nightstand, “right now it’s half past 10.” He stares at you for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. This whole moment has felt so quiet, both eerie and gentle. You still weren’t used to the latter from him, even after what just happened. “You can go if you want. Sleep in your bed for one more night, or…” he stops, “You can stay with me, if you’d like.” His sigh is short and whispered but you both hear it, you feel its weight. “It’s your choice.”

You stare at each other for a moment. Your eyes trail all of his face and the arm that is still holding your own, adorned with all the tattoos and skin you had just fallen for. You wanted to study them and hold onto him forever. And his eyes: they said so much— there were so many little inflections, ones that you had finally read, and so many others you’ve yet to decipher. You desired to know him, but you had to go, so all you decided to do was to hold him. For now, you chose to stay, and hoped that your embrace would transfer the fact that the only reason it would be hard to leave is because of him and only him. You would remember this forever. “8 hours till 8.”

“8 hours till 8, kid.”

You close your eyes tight and nuzzle into his chest, A peace you had never known in the Sanctuary finally subsumed you. You feel free to finally tell him, “Thank you. I really do miss home.”

Home. There it is again. There was no malice in the way you said it, but there was still a pang from your melancholy words that made his heart throb. You missed home. And as peaceful as you looked, and as safely as you held onto him, your words reaffirmed that home was not here and it was not with him— no matter how you looked, and no matter the fact that you were allowing him to hold you for the night, to call you his. In the end, you were not.

He had to finally accept it.

“8 hours till 8,” are your last words until you finally drift to sleep. This would be your last and most tranquil night here. To you, it felt right, almost harmonious, albeit sad. This is how it was and how it was meant to be. You needed it.

But to him, it’s shattering. He doesn’t repeat the phrase back this time because, for once, he has nothing to say. The fire glow of the night has now withered into darkness.

You won.

He lost.

But both your hearts broke.

#negan smith smut #negan smith x reader #negan smith fanfiction #negan smith x you #negan smith x y/n #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x y/n #negan smut #negan fanfiction #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd smut #twd fanfiction #twd fic #the walking dead #negan smith

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tzihomara · 4 months ago

Text

MISSING YOU . . .₊˚⊹

— who knew your bossy house cat could be so . . . needy?

wc. 3.2k , mdni | fem!reader, unestablished relationship, jealous rough sèx, brèeding, degradation, crèampie, full form sukuna, mirror sèx, tigerhybrid!sukuna, possessiveness, intoxication, scenting, squırting, two còck’s, not proofread.

an;. i got so tired writing this… and i don’t even like it. was thinking & listening to this song while writing for him lolz

“quit your unnecessary movement, woman.”

he grumbled hoarsely, thick stripped tail swatting around and thumping the hardwood floors of your apartment. the two you sitting infront of your mirror.

even though ryomen sukuna’s period of reining the world of curses and jujutsu sorcerers, as king of curses, was indeed over, reduced to a mere house pet. he was still, just as commanding and prissy as ever.

all four of his muscular, and tatted arms wrapped around your smaller frame. demanding and beckoning insistently, silently with a grumpy pout, that you had sat in his lap. not knowing you’d soon feel his large and prickly tongue licking, or “grooming” you so he say’s, once you got a bit too comfortable in the warmth of his frame, licking over.. , and over again, relentlessly seeming. paws digging into you possessively.

you had went to a ‘work’ gettogether your boss had setup, have some drink’s, celebrate, and decompress after the hard work that you, and your coworkers had been through during these few specifically taxing weeks. leaving your particularly cavalier house cat, all alone.

when you had drunkenly unlocked your door, stumbling through it, you were immediately met with and faced a heavily displeased, and exasperated cat. predaceous, sharp, deep crimson irisis looking down at you. fumbling around, your inebriated mind had finally registered him infront of you in the dim lights, you had got home late, a bit— completely, caught up being “excessively friendly” as he’d word it, greeting your coworkers and superiors goodbye.

his fluffy ears were pressed flatly against his wispy hair, not ashamed or hesitant to put his discontent on display for you, tail whipping around irritably, nose scrunching up.

you reeked of a scent that wasn’t his, and he just had to fix it. immediately. resisting the urge to pounce and gnaw your neck to bits, like a chew toy. just for your insolence of returning to him in this,…. “state”.

which is how you ended up now, in his hold, his slob sticking and drying to your skin. “ryo ..’ i think ‘m pretty clean now.” you quietly sigh, tempted to accept your fate. and he scowl’s silently. “you still carry that stench on you. perhap’s, you need proper cleaning further.” he utter’s, while you groan in defeat quitely. “don’t.” he hissed. quipping back quickly, “you subjected yourself to this, woman. ridding my scent off of you for whatever absurd and preposterous reason. are you trying to suggest you’re available?” he glower’s. “course ‘mnot trying to. swear i didnt mean to ‘kuna..” you say, a little drunken slur to your word’s.

he hate’s it, the scent of alchol. but he’d rather have it that, than anyone else’s scent on you again. ever.

he huff’s, a bit more lenient, since you’re intoxicated. vulnerable in his eye’s. a foolish human— his. continuing to lick and brush his bristled tongue over you, leaning a little lower and licking at your neck, feeling your pulse point. cleansing you, yet also marking his scent back over you dually. the sensation makes you shudder. he’s given you “tongue bath’s” before, although something about this particularly, feels a little,.. different.

maybe it was your drunken mind seeking out things that weren’t there.

tongue steadily flicking over your neck, causing just a slight blush of pink on the sensitive and thin skin of your neck, from irritation. inhaling into it, taking in the concoction of both your own and his scent mixed. that was significantly better. letting out a rough purr in contentment. “are y’done yet?” you ask, not from impatience , or being bored, merely curious at how far he’d take this with his previous comment. “if it were my choice, which it should be. you’d get a much more thorough cleaning. be fortunate m’letting you off like this, brat.” he huffed into your neck. “but you’ve already been lickin me f’twenty mins, kuna.” you sigh. “privileged it wasn’t’ an hour.” he roll’s his eyes.

tail flickering slightly, curled and thick, brushing against you. four arms wrapped around you begrudgingly loosening, free from his grasp. resting his chin on the crown of your head, ears twitching. you can hear the heavy purrs reverberating in his broad chest, two of the four hands resting on your thigh’s.

this is how it should’ve been, if he knew you’d come home like this, he would’ve kept you in his grasp to prevent it. a cheek rubbing into your head, coming down to softly bite your cheek. a silent demand for your attention.

already becoming needy for you, though he’d never admit it aloud. letting his actions speak subtly. you hum, “mhm?…” replying to his demand, small hand of yours going up to caress his hair, inching towards the two fluffy ears that reside on his head. scratching behind the fluff. a rough mix of purrs and growl’s erupting from his chest, “brat. quit it.” he scowl’s, although does nothing to stop it. he could easily remove himself if he pleased, purr’s betraying his gruff tone and word’s.

you weren’t aware, completely oblivious. naive to how needy he was.

missing your presence more than he’d like to admit when you were gone. all. damn. day, he felt like he was going to drive himself crazy when he found himself in your bedroom. sniffing and inhaling the scent of you. clothes, blankets, panties—anything he could find. rutting and grinding his clothed cock’s into your pillows, mounting and biting down on the soft fluff, imagining it were you instead. hands pulling you tighter, flush to him. and you didn’t protest against it.

your own hands rubbing and softly scratching his ears in just the way he likes, unknowing the affect’s it has on him. you thought he excused himself purely out of embarrassment when you got done scratching him, never thinking of the fact that he get’s unbelievably hard after it. purrs getting heavier, just by a little bit, pressing his cheek into your own. ears twitching. you made him melt. body almost going slack for a minute. letting out just the faintest pant. he felt himself getting worked up already. silence being interrupted by the soft tussling of you adjusting your position, the floor can only be comfortable for so long.

taking notice of your discomfort, two large hands promptly settling you on his lap further more. “better?” he mumbled, cheek still in contact with your own, and you nodded. “mhm, ts’better,” adjusting yourself more, slightly grinding down into his lap to get comfortable. “should prob get off the floor, since you’re finished.”, he kissed his teeth. “y’er own fault for not being able to withstand it. no need to move.” he grumble’s, though he merely didn’t want you to move from his lap, even for a split second. “too feeble.” he sighs, voice a little hoarse. getting a little mouthy. ears pressing to the back of his head. and you roll your eyes and pout. “apologies for not being soooo big, ‘tough n bad like you.”

and he growls.

quietly tsking at your words, lowering his head and delivering a faint bite to side of your neck. fangs scratching the skin. you couldn’t bring yourself to scold your kitty, especially after leaving him oh, so lonely today. your pout deepened, pinching his cheek in response. “hmph.. careful.” you warned softly. his grip tightened on you. his own inner turmoil deepened, the need for you. to suffocate you against the floor, act on his need to mark you, inside and out. it was tempting. licking and nibbling at your neck. “pitiful.” he scoff’s, a larger hand subtly rubbing down into your inner thigh. squeezing the plump flat. tail swishing more feistily.

sukuna wasn’t a gentle nor slow man, it was near impossible for him. but he could try, and he was now. patience slowly wearing thin.

he deepened his bite, provoking a little whine from you. he was fortunate you couldn’t see his expression, the way his eyes nearly rolled back at just that. feeling like he’s on the verge of driving himself into a rut. pressing you further down into his lap, semi hard cock’s already starting to make its appearance with a print. you could feel his damp and hot breath on the back of your neck, and you couldn’t deny the way it made you throb in your inebriated state. already feeling hot and flushed from the alcohol, his clingyness wasn’t lessening the sensation’s you felt. “you’re g’na leave a mark. .” you murmured out. sneering at your word’s. “maybe it’ll get it into y’er head to stop ‘flaunting’ around in other people’s scent. ‘pissin me off.” he jibed, licking a fat wet strip up your neck, to behind your ear. beginning to chew on your bottom lip, eyes narrowing.

you could feel that familiar heat pooling in your stomach already, damp cunt clenching around nothing, to your disappointment.

every single time, he could smell the arousal immediately. having such a sensitive and potent sense of smell.

he snickered. clothed arousal fully hard now, you could feel it. he didn’t even bother to hide it now, warmth pressing against your ass. you couldn’t help but feel your face turn a singular shade deeper. breath catching in your throat, silently gulping and tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. it was his own sign of permission, a silent granting of consent. you knew you couldn’t hide it and he knew it aswell. if not better than you. panting and breathing heavily into your neck. it got you soaked.

hip’s seeking out friction, clothed cock’s grinding into your ass unabashedly, heaving into your ear with a handsome cackle that’s his laugh. “shiit, woman.” he cursed under his breath, and you let out a little whimper. tiny “o-oh” escaping your lip’s. your already simmering body reacting deliciously to his neediness. flushed cunt drenching your panties already. the two hand’s that were resting comfortably on your thighs traveling up to your hip’s, now at the seam’s of your pants, prying and tugging them down, down, down. balled up and wrinkled at your ankle’s, soon completely off. one hand of the four slipping into your panties, a rough padded finger collecting your slick and rubbing your slit. feeling — her, pulse around them. “s’fuckin needy. greedy girl.” he groaned into your ear. ear’s twitching sensitively.

you haven’t ever gotten this wet, and so quickly. beginning to grind back on his fingers, you could see it. the two of you in this position through the mirror infront of you both, it made your breath hitch. two thick lengthy finger’s suddenly sinking into your cunt, squelching and sucking them in. just two fingers of his make you feel so damn full already, thrusting gently while another finger rubs at your clit, low attentive eye’s watching you through the mirror, heavy purrs against your back. rough fingers massaging just the perfect spots inside your velvety walls. “kuna..’” you mewled softly, and he tightens his hold on your thigh’s, spreading them further apart, tugging your panties aside to watch in the mirror. watching your cunt messily clench around him, your slick running down his hand. dripping on his clothed hard on. fabric damp with precum and your arousal.

breath slightly trembling in your ear, hips still needily pressing his aching cock’s into your ass. tail flickering and slithering to wrap around you leg, keeping it in place. “fuuuck.” he groaned, bordering on a moan. “clenchin’ around my fingers like some slut.” biting a little rougher into your neck. you try to turn your cheek—only to be snatched right back in place, rough padded fingers digging isn’t your cheeks and jaw. forcing you to look at the mess he’s making of you. a laugh melting into a moan. “y’like this, brat? watching y’erself’ drench all over my fingers?” “keep your eye’s on us.” he heave’s. fingers curling impeccably, in justtt- the right spot. feeling that coil in your tummy tighten implausibly tighter. schlick noises of his finger’s and your arousal resonant in the room.

your hip’s lazily grinding further onto his girthy digit’s, stuttering languidly over them eyeing yourself. it was so humiliating. his fingers acutely rubbing your soft spot. coil inside your tummy snapping, stomach flexing with frantic ragged breath’s, and a whine. dually creaming and squirting incessantly on his finger’s, hip’s trying to pull away in overstimulation. paded finger mercilessly, relentlessly rubbing continuously, vigorously pulling out choked mewl’s and whimpers out you. “k-kunaaaaa’ , w-wait stopsst-opp,” sob’s prettily spilling from you, palms grasping, fingers digging into his wide forearm in attempt to steady yourself. provoking a hiss from him.

you want to escape from this overbearing feeling, but relish in it too. you both know you don’t mean to try and run. and he purr’s with a grumble.

a hand jerking his short’s down, two lengthy cock’s slapping your puffy folds, slicked with your wetness and release, pretty cherry pink tip’s leaking bead’s of precum, dribbling down his cut length. the fact he had matching tatt’s there made you gush. lengthier cock head prodding, nudging at your fold’s and entrance, your drunken mind whirling from the booze and previous overstimulating high from a few seconds ago, two hand’s back grappling at your thighs, hoisting them up infront of the mirror. finding yourself in a headlock. he has you in full nelson, slowly leaning back into the couch. brows furrowed and tail swatting.

you feel his leaking tip continuously pressing, before sinking into you, eliciting a quiet mewl, chin resting on his forearm, purposely keep your heavy head up to watch him. secondary cock still grinding against the fat of your ass. you felt so suffocatingly full, with a stretched that burn so painfully fucking good. pretty glimmering tears welling in your eyes, you don’t know if it’s from the pain or pleasure, a concoction of both. snickering with a small tsk. “should’ve known , y’er sucha’ crybaby.”, his mean teasing making you grip him impossibly tighter. you loved it. “should i go slow f’ya? think you deserve it after comin home to smelling like that’ , brat?” he groaned into your ear, a rhetorical question. he wasn’t going to be nice, and you were somewhat hoping for that. feeling a little defiant. “shut the f-fuck up.’ fuck me already.” you blurted out. and his eye’s narrowed, temporarily stunned by your word’s, it made his cock twitch— both of them.

with a scoff followed by a grunt, hand’s immediately slamming your hips down with a force that might’ve made you regret being hasty if you weren’t just as needy as him. a slurred, much louder whine escaping at the show of force, suddenly feeling his pace pick up after it, not as harsh as before. tip messily kissing the entrance of your cervix, leaving every spot untouched in your wall’s, you could see it. the way his cock bulge’s in your tummy, roughly dragging your hip’s up and down on his length, yet hips still slamming into you. absolutely using you. and you were fucking loving it, shamelessly moaning and babbling incomprehensibly. “f-fuckfuckfuuuuck..rightthereeuuh” watching yourself get pounded into relentlessly, second cock drooling with loads of precum, slick against your ass. drool dribbling out the corner of your mouth, but throat going dry at the same time. a loud groan forged with a purr escaping his throat. “stupid’ fuckin slut. need to learn some damn manner’s.” tail swishing wildly, his size with your grip was driving him feral, you were squeezing him.

if only you could see his pupils expanding. it were as if he’d been given catnip, even so, you & your cunt is the better drug. “suckin’ me up so damn good. like this pussy is mine, shit-“ he growled with a pant. “m-mhm ts’yours kuna- all y-yours, uooh-“, he wasn’t quick to finish no matter what, but he could’ve came right then and there when you said that, a shudder rushing over his body, a palm smushing your face, gripping harshly to turn it, shifting his head to press a sloppy kiss to you. a distraction. feeling his length somehow grow harder than it already was, he was so deep. it hurt just a tad, but in the best way. you weren’t even sure you could moan into his mouth anymore from how good he was digging into you, stretching you impeccably. rubbing in spot’s you had yet to reach on your own, nobody could reach but him. not like he’d let a man get even close to you ever again after this accident. a hand of his spreading your thigh’s further, a predatory glint in them as he looked from the second eye above his cheekbone, watching your cunt take every single inch. tongue licking all around inside your mouth, coating himself in your taste. toe’s clenching, curling , as hard as you could, the pleasure was just so. fucking. much. tiny hand’s retuning to grasp as his forearm, digging your nail’s into him. leaving little crescent’s. your own mark’s. his pace not even faltering once. pulling back with an airy gasp, groaning in your ear. “i own you. own this pretty ‘lil cunt. gonna fuck you full of my cum, brat. ts’ what you want huh? workin me up with that filthy mouth. should put it ta’ work next.”, and you nod absentmindedly, the tear’s that were brimming your eye’s already cascading down your cheek’s. “uuuhuh, wan’ your cubs s-so bad kuna,” you whined through mewl’s and sob’s, close to your second orgasm, so damn close.

he was close already too, just by how obediently you were nodding along to him, like a mindless doll. and he landed the prettiest one. the two of you were just barely hanging on by a thread, his thrusts becoming more sloppy. languid. deep and harsh, feeling his tip nuzzling just a bit dipper into you, hitting your cervix making you yelp in pleasure and pain, your orgasm hitting you like a fucking truck, clenching down on him as that familiar creamy white ring form’s around his cock again, all in his view. feeling you grip like a damn vice was his breaking point, hips stuttering for the last time before a full blown moan escape’s him, hissing as his eye’s so subtly roll back. bottoming out and cumming fucking bucket’s in you, second cock messily spilling on the floor, feeling the hot spurt’s from his tip inside you, lazily, slowly, fucking you through your own and his release, ear’s flickering up, heavy purrs and pant’s in your ear’s and it felt like you weren’t even present on earth. your mind sent whirling at the sensation of him pulsing inside you. slowly pulling out, not flaccid in the slightest yet. a worn whimper slipping from you in disappointment, cunt gaping and clenching around nothing. palms rubbing the inside of your thigh’s, in a trance at the mess he’s made of you. heaving. purr’s and heavy breath’s filling the silence. tossing his head back with a groan. a temporary peace, resting your eye’s for a few minute’s. you felt so exhausted already, ready to call it quit’s in your intoxicated mind. but sukuna had other plan’s, making it noticeable when he slid his second, wider, more girthier cock, into you. stretching you once again. grip seemingly tighter on you. “don’t think i’m done with you. still have hour’s to make up to me, fuckin brat.” he groan’s.

and you certainly did make up for those hour’s you left your poor kitty all alone, needy and without your perfect pussy.

my masterlist for more .ᐟ

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snowball-doie · 2 months ago

Text

| pairing: Haechan x fem!Reader x Jaehyun

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Poly ilichil. MLM behavior. Breast feeding. Lactation kink.

| wc: 1.6k

| aurora's note: originally written for my poly!ilichil x fem!oc fic. edited as much as possible to be reader friendly. also wrote this in the middle of the night, so i apologize for any errors

It was beginning to piss you off, the uncomfortableness from being so full throughout the morning. The baby'd woken up in the middle of the night, maybe around 2AM, screaming and crying, an obvious tell that she was hungry. Jungwoo brought her to yours and Mark's room, gently woke you up, then handed her over for you to feed. You were half awake the entire time. Mark was dead asleep, Jungwoo was brushing your hair with his fingers to comfort you, and the rest of the house was quiet. You were beginning to hate the fact that you were the only person in the family who could feed your daughter-- Sure, she would wean off eventually and move onto bottles, and then the boys could take turns; Until then, you were all she had.

But once she went back to sleep around 3AM in Jungwoo's room, you couldn't sleep. One of your breasts was still full and tender... The other was sore from being suckled, and as the sun rose, it began to feel full too. You tried to distract yourself. Watching movies in the living room, scrolling through videos on your phone, making a snack in the kitchen. Nothing worked. So you crawled back into bed, this time with Johnny who rolled over in his sleep to embrace you in his arms before the two of you crashed. And then there was more crying around 6AM. The whole house woke up finally, Jungwoo and Doyoung bringing the baby into the room while Johnny helped you sit up and get comfortable before taking her in your arms. You tried to help yourself by having her latch onto the opposite breast than before-- However, she wanted nothing to do with you. She was crying like she was hungry, but no matter what you did, she just wouldn't give in. So Doyoung took her back. Jaehyun and Haechan entered, both of them visibly exhausted, Haechan rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

"Oh, sweet girl, what is it, hmmm?" Jaehyun cooed while Doyoung handed her over to him. "Why're you giving your mom so much trouble?"

"Maybe she just had a nightmare?" Doyoung theorized.

"Maybe."

Slowly, she calmed down in Jaehyun's arms, the crying turning into coos that turned into snores. Doyoung offered to put her in the crib in his room since it was the furthest down the hall, so if she started crying again so early, no one else would be bothered by it. He and Jungwoo left with the baby, Johnny slowly slumped back into his pillows, and Haechan and Jaehyun turned like they were ready to leave.

"Wait--" you called out to them.

They both stopped.

"Please... It hurts..."

They turned to look at you, worried. What hurt? Did you need something? Whatever it was, they were always willing to help, just say the word and they would turn back time for you. So they approached you slowly while watching you struggle to get comfortable in bed, Johnny making more room for you to sit with the two of them.

“She won’t drink from the right side,” you whined. “It fucking hurts now.”

Haechan climbed onto the bed to settle between you and Johnny, his hands drifting upwards to massage your sore right breast. Jaehyun sat on the edge of the bed at your left side.

“They’re uneven. They’re full. It hurts like a bitch to have her just sucking on it for hours and have nothing happen. I’m so fucking over it. Please, just do something…”

A direct request was unnecessary by that point. Jaehyun and Haechan were like sharks lured into bait the way they were staring directly at your tits, both of them eagerly trying to free you again from your maternity clothing. Haechan was the first to do something— The second you were free from the restraints of your bra, he leaned in to wrap his lips gently around the sensitive nipple of your right side which hurt the most. You moaned with relief. It wasn’t sexual, not this time at least… In the past, especially when the boys first came home from tour to see you so, so pregnant, Jae and Hyuck couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, they were always trying to fuck you or at least suck on your tits. Now that there was a baby taking everyone’s attention and all of your physical wellness, they had retreated slightly in order to let you focus on getting better… But you needing them so badly that you had to beg for their help made it impossible for them to hold back anymore; and once Jaehyun began sucking on your left nipple, you couldn’t help but feel completely as peace with the fact that you were finally being given the aid you so desperately needed after weeks of nothing but diapers, baby vomit, and having issues getting her to latch on to you.

Jae looked up at you through his lashes. He could tell that the baby had drunk from that side earlier so it was more sore than full, which meant that he had to be more kind to you than Hyuck who was eagerly sucking and massaging, moaning quietly as he did so. The fullness that kept you up all morning was finally fading… You felt tired all of a sudden. They did you a favor by drinking up everything stored away inside of your body just so you could get another few hours of rest before inevitably waking up again with that same, unbearable fullness and a crying baby down in Doyoung’s bedroom.

Between the two of them, Haechan was more into the idea of the milk aspect. He loved the taste, and the intimacy of having his hair played with while he suckled, drinking every single drop until both of you were satisfied. As for Jaehyun, the attraction came out of wanting to help you. Knowing that he was the one rushing to your aid, the one watching as you melted and thanked him for getting rid of the soreness, your body slumping against his, all of it made Jae swoon. He’d do anything for your family. It was the most important thing in the entire world to him— Helping you out, no matter the request or the cost was the best thing you could ask of him.

Hyuck pulled away first to catch his breath. As he did so, a bit of milk dribbled out of your nipple and slid down your breast. He immediately went to catch it with his tongue, licking up the trail of liquid to make sure he got every bit of it before returning to sucking on you. Your hands found warmth in his long brown hair that he refused to cut ever since the baby was born because he loved how she would reach up to tug on it when he’d play with her.

Jae pulled away next, his hand still cupping the underside of your breast, fingers gently kneading the fat. “Feeling better?”

All you could do was nod in your state of tranquility.

He quietly chortled. “Should’ve woken one of us up earlier.”

“I felt bad,” you replied.

“Don’t,” Hyuck said. “We’d rather lose sleep than see you in pain.” And then he went right back to his task with a satisfied groan and a roll of his hips into the bed.

Jaehyun moved one of his hands down to your thighs for him to massage that too in tandem with your tit. With nothing else dribbling out or left to suck on, he knew that you were tapped out on his side, so all he could do was try to keep you relaxed while Haechan played the catch up game on the other side in order to even you out like you asked for.

“We’ll start weaning her off this week,” Jae said. “Need to give you a break so it doesn’t keep getting this bad. We’ll make a schedule for bottle feeding, too, that way it’s fair.”

You thought about how all of that was already decided in your mind hours ago when you were sitting on the couch watching TV, but hearing Jaehyun say it out loud with Haechan and a half-asleep Johnny as witnesses made you feel like it was real, that the boys would finally get to chip in so you could sleep for an entire night.

Hyuck pulled away while licking his lips and sighing heavily. He was done, too, the pain in your breasts subsiding at a rapid pace.

“Thank you,” you whispered, sinking into the bed some more.

Hyuck kissed you passionately, the taste of your milk on his hot tongue.

“If you guys are gonna fuck, can you do it in one of your rooms,” Johnny grumbled as he rolled onto his stomach and stuffed his face full of his pillow.

Jae pulled Hyuck away from you, muttering something about how you looked too tired to have sex, and that you needed to rest before the baby would wake up again. Haechan seemed a bit disappointed, but he was also incredibly understanding. So despite his hard-on in his pajama pants, Haechan adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose then slid off the bed after Jaehyun leaned in to kiss your cheek. You wanted to ask for them to stay or at least help you into one of their rooms where the three of you could cuddle together, but exhaustion hit you like a truck in a single instant, preventing you from forming a coherent sentence. They just laughed at how cute you were when you were that tired. Then with another kiss and a quiet series of “I love you,” they left, and Johnny reached to scoop you into his arms again.

#op #fanfic #haechan #jaehyun #nct #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 #nct 127 fanfic #haechan fanfic #haechan smut #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun smut

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pinksturniolo · 7 months ago

Text

Switch - Chris and Matt Sturniolo (Part One)

Chris x Matt and Fem Reader

Summary: Cherry Bomb - The largest underground BDSM club in Los Angeles, California. Its member list is extremely exclusive, only granting access to celebrities, influencers and the filthy rich. No one really cares who you are or what you do, they come for one thing and one thing only. Whatever happens at the Cherry stays at the Cherry….

Content warnings: smut, oral, fingering, protected sex, bondage, spanking, teasing, threesome

this story has heavy themes and descriptions of bdsm, so if you’re not comfortable with that pls don’t read <3

word count: 3,879

Neon lights bounce off the shiny black walls, loud music playing but not too loud that you can’t hear what the blonde guy next to you is saying. He’s been talking your ear off for the last 20 minutes, while you zone out, sipping on your lemon club soda. This was the only time you wished they served alcohol here so you could at least be tipsy enough to endure the men that have been approaching you tonight.

Your usual partner hasn’t shown up yet and you have already been here for almost an hour. You try to ignore the slight ache in your chest though, focusing your attention back to the man next to you.

“So, how long you been coming here?” He asks.

“About 6 months now.” You reply.

“Damn, I feel like an amateur." He laughs, “This is only my second time.”

Obviously.

You hated to think so rudely but every person you’ve talked to tonight just wasn’t the one you preferred. You were starting to get extremely impatient, wondering where he was. He was never late.

As if your internal monologue has been heard by a higher power, you feel a hand on the back of your neck and turn in your seat to see the same man you were just thinking of. He has a dark look on his face as he eyes the person next to you.

“I don’t think she’s very interested buddy, why don’t you go bother some other poor girl.” He says to him, his hand now curling around your shoulder possessively.

The blonde guy’s face reddens with embarrassment as he quickly scrambles up from his chair. “Sorry man, I didn’t know she was yours.” he says and quickly walks off.

You scoff as your partner sits next to you, ordering a water from the waitress.

“That was unnecessary.” You say, his face still annoyed as he relaxes into the chair, his arm still slung around the back of you. He takes a long sip of his water, avoiding looking at you. You see his jaw clench and he runs a hand through his hair before speaking.

“What were you doing talking to that loser anyways?” He finally asks, making eye contact with you and he looks pissed.

“Oh my god, are you jealous Matt? Maybe you should’ve been here on time before other guys had the chance to talk to me.” you reply, a teasing smile appearing on your face.

He then grabs the side of your chair, pulling it forcefully towards him, causing you to gasp out. Your thighs are touching, and his hand moves from the back of your chair to the nape of your neck, sliding up to knot his fingers in your hair and pull slightly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t entertain other men when I’m not around and wait patiently for me like a good girl. Or do you need me to remind you who you belong to? Hm?” He whispers in your ear threateningly. Your core pulses with arousal at his words, his warm breath on your neck causing tingles to shoot down your spine.

So of course, this leads to you replying with a smart remark, which makes him take you to the candy room and punish you until you beg for forgiveness.

There were numerous rooms in the club that members could use, their time limit being an hour. But the main rooms that were larger and you could reserve for however long you wanted (at a high price) were only four. The star room, the red room, the flower room and the candy room.

The candy room is where you and Matt spend most of your encounters together at the Cherry Bomb. However, there’s nothing sweet about it besides the name. Its walls are painted red, a black bed with silk sheets in the middle and glossy black floors. There’s a cabinet of floggers, ropes, leather and fuzzy cuffs, vibrators and anything else you can imagine.

There’s no particular reason why it’s your favorite but Matt has been reserving it for you since you met him here and it’s become a routine on a Saturday night, twice a month.

Cherry Bomb has been around since the late 80s and has done a particularly good job at keeping its participants a secret, mainly due to the NDA you have to sign upon your first entry, along with a recent STD panel and heavy entrance fee. They also prohibited alcohol and drug use.

You were referred by one of your friends, which made it easier for you to get in. The money was no issue for you, but the wait list was long and having a friend on the inside had its benefits.

You instantly loved it from the first time you came. The atmosphere wasn’t grungy or too dark like you would expect a typical sex club to be. No one seemed to care who you were here, there was no judgement, and it was a safe place to act out your wildest fantasies, with whoever you choose.

You had had experiences with a couple different men and women, all which were satisfying for the most part. Most people had a habit of choosing a particular partner and being loyal to them, while others constantly swapped, not staying with one person too long.

When you met Matt, you instantly clicked, and found something in him that you hadn’t felt with any other member. He approached you one night, his demeanor confident but also calm. The energy flowed between you two, and once he got you to the room alone, it was fireworks. He was very clear on consent being an important aspect and boundaries were established before anything else.

Matt was a switch, like you. While most of the time he preferred to be dominate, he could also be submissive which was heaven to you. You loved it when he took control, using your body however he pleased, and he knew the best way to handle your brattiness. Because as much as it felt good to submit to him, you also had a fiery attitude which only made the pleasure of his punishment better.

He made you beg till you cried, spanked you so hard you had marks for weeks, and would tie you to the bed and fuck you until your brain was fuzzy, and your throat was raw from screaming his name. Making you cum over and over again until you were numb.

But when he was the submissive for the night… it was a whole different experience. There was nothing better than the feeling of him begging you to please him, demanding him to do whatever you wanted. Edging him until he was whimpering for you, teasing him and seeing how much he enjoyed it. Nothing compared.

And the best part about Matt that you liked, was that he always took the time to make sure you had the proper after care after each session. Cleaning you up, getting you water if you needed it, and even massaging your body if he went particularly hard on you that night.

He was currently holding you after tonight's session was done, rubbing small soothing circles on your back, your head cradled against his chest. You can hear his heart beating at a relaxed pace, calming you as your own heart slows down to match his tempo.

He breaks the sweet silence, his velvety voice pulling you out of your trance. “Y/N… I have a question for you.”

“Mhm?” You mumble, your fatigue settling in.

“How do you feel about a threesome?” He says, his hand stroking over the top of your head.

You’re alert now, lifting your head to turn and look at him. His eyes are half closed, a lazy smile on his face as he waits for your answer.

“I think it’s pretty hot. Is that something you want to do?” You reply.

“Are you comfortable with that?” He asks.

“I’ve experienced them before, yes. Depends… who would it be with?”

His bottom lip is pulled in between his teeth, a contemplative look on his face.

“I know someone that’s interested. In you. He’s always wanted to come to Cherry but he’s hesitant.” Matt says and your heart rate picks up a little at his words.

“He’s interested in me?” You ask, surprised at the fact that Matt talks about you outside of the club. That would be breaking the NDA.

He strokes his hand over the side of your face, caressing your jaw with his fingers. His eyes are soft, like they always are at the end of the night, adoring you with affection.

“Sorry, princess. I know I’m technically not supposed to talk to anyone about this. But I trust him… and I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew you would be upset.” He says.

You sit up now, fully facing him, and place your arms on either side of him, one hand resting on his chest and the other on his bicep.

“I know, I’m not upset. I’m flattered actually.” You say, smirking, the idea of what he’s proposing piquing your curiosity.

“Mm. Don’t get too cocky. But if you would like to try it out, I’ll tell him to come with me next time.” He tells you.

Your mind races at the thought of a threesome with him and another man, wondering how exactly that would change the dynamic between you two. Matt could be a little possessive and you were more than satisfied with just him as your partner but it made you think of how he would be able to share you. It excites you. He must trust this other person a lot.

“Who is it?” You ask him and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you with an amused look.

“It’s a surprise.”

✰✿

You return to Cherry Bomb two weeks later, more nervous than you had been any other time you’ve come. But your anticipation outweighs your nerves as you sit at the bar, patiently waiting for Matt. You’re wearing a skin tight black lace dress that’s basically see through, showing your matching black lingerie set underneath. Sleek red heels are on your feet, your hair falling in soft loose waves that frame your face and a light coat of mascara through your eyelashes.

You took the time to put extra effort into your appearance tonight, and practically everyone in the club notices, staring at you as they wander around. But you pay no mind, your focus on the soda in front of you. Matt would be fuming with rage if he knew you were entertaining anyone else tonight and usually you would play with fire but given the special circumstances, you decided not to mess with him tonight.

The waitress hands you a note, pulling you out of your thoughts. She smiles at you politely before walking off, attending to another customer.

Meet me in the red room.

It’s Matt’s handwriting. He’s never done this before, always meeting you at the bar and then escorting you to your usual room. Your palms sweat as you stand from your chair and make your way to the large room at the end of the hall with the red door.

The red room. It was the largest room in the club, and the only one you hadn’t been in before. You’ve heard rumors of how luxurious it was which is why it was so hard to book. How Matt was able to get it tonight, you’re not sure.

You take a deep breath and adjust your dress, pushing the door open. The cool air of the room hits you, tiny goosebumps erupting on your skin. Your heart picks up speed at the sight of Matt centered directly at the center edge of the bed. He’s also dressed in all black, his eyes roaming up and down your body in hunger as you saunter over to him.

Wait. Is that Matt? You pause in front of him, a few feet away. His hair is longer, and his face is extremely similar but with a slight difference. And his aura is arrogant. But when you make eye contact with him, you feel butterflies gather in your stomach, his blue eyes making you drown with attraction. It’s the same feeling Matt gives you but there’s something different about him.

You now realize it’s not Matt at all.

The smug smile on his lips that’s been growing since he noticed the confusion on your face only widens, his hands gripping the sides of the bed, making the muscles in his arm flex. He looks incredibly strong.

“Looking for someone?” He asks teasingly and you can already feel the pool of wetness growing by the second in your underwear.

“Where’s Matt?” You ask sweetly, tilting your head. Your arms are crossed and your eyes narrow, fighting the smile that threatens to break through.

Let the games begin.

The stranger in front of you chuckles, leaning back on his arms now, his legs spreading slightly in jeans. He licks his lips, looking you up and down again. You can’t help but do the same.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Don’t like what you see?” He says, his bottom lip stuck out in a fake pout.

You smile at him, mocking the tone in his voice. “I prefer princess.”

He laughs lowly, biting his lip and looks behind you. “You weren’t lying when you said she was a brat.” He says and you whip your head around, shocked to see Matt sitting in the love seat at the corner of the room.

You hadn’t noticed him at all when you walked in, given the darkness of the room and the fact he was so quiet during your exchange.

Matt has a blank expression, not looking at you. “Call her whatever you want, Chris.”

You can see that he’s dressed in a plain white shirt and black jeans. It’s simple, like the clothes he usually wears but he still looks incredible.

You’re still turned towards him, giving Chris a full view of your ass now, which you’re sure he’s appreciating.

“I didn’t know you had a twin.” You tell him, your eyebrows raised in amusement.

The corners of his lips twitch as he fights a smile, exchanging a look with Chris that you can’t decipher. “There’s a lot of things about me you don’t know.”

He gets up from his seat now and crosses the room to where you are. You’re about to respond with a witty remark but he’s suddenly gripping your arms, turning you around forcefully to face Chris again.

Your ass is pressed into his crotch, and you feel him harden against you. You gasp lightly as he places his mouth next to your ear, whispering lowly.

“That’s enough from you, Princess. I suggest you keep your mouth shut unless it’s a yes or no. Understand?”

You nod slowly, and Chris watches with fascination at the way Matt handles you. You can see how visibly turned on he is, his boner straining through his jeans.

You’re more aroused than you’ve ever been, the feeling of Matt’s strong grip on your arms, as he places soft wet kisses on the curve of your neck and the look in Chris’ eyes as they burn into yours, his pupils blown out.

“Are you comfortable? You know your safe word, right?” He asks you, his tone a little lighter. He wraps one hand around your throat, the other on your left hip and squeezes.

“Yes.” You breathe. “Good.” He replies, releasing you completely and you feel him back up from behind you. “Now get on your knees.”

Your heart races as you sink down, Chris’ eyes following your every moment. He hasn’t taken them off you since you entered the room and something in his eyes made you very nervous but incredibly excited at the same time.

Matt is now seated on the opposite side of the room, in a large leather chair. He’s directly in front of you now, to the side of Chris. You sit obediently on your knees, your eyes still focused on him as he speaks his next set of instructions.

“Why don’t you show Chris how you put that mouth to good use.” he says, nodding his head for you to continue.

You swallow and look away from Matt now, to see an enticing smirk on his brother’s face. He spreads his legs farther open as he adjusts himself on the bed, unbuckling his belt from his jeans. He places it on the mattress next to him and pulls his jeans down and off his legs.

You scoot closer to him, positioning yourself between his legs, your hands resting on top of his thighs. The look in your eyes is enough to get his heart racing like yours, and he curls a finger under your chin, tugging your face closer to him as he leans down.

“Let me taste your lips, sweetheart.” He says softly and connects his mouth to yours.

Now you can tell the real difference between them. Matt is harsh, yet caring. His energy penetrates you with a feeling of deep connection, a tie that binds you to him in one more ways then one. The trust you two have built over the past few months comes through when your bodies mesh with one another. He knows just what to say to please you and you in return, love to obey his every wish and command.

But Chris… he kisses you like he’s starving. He’s sweet, yet strong. It’s all new territory to explore, and you can almost taste the desperation on his tongue. His hands are soft against your face, warmth flooding your body at the feeling of his touch. You wonder just how much Matt has expressed to him, what secrets he’s revealed about all the sinful, delicious acts you’ve conceived with him in the candy room.

Chris is magnetic, his wet, hot kisses making you ache in your core. He finally pulls away from you, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed in a dark look. “Take your dress off.” He speaks.

You pull it off with no hesitation, up and over your head, now in your lingerie beneath him.

He drinks in the sight of your half naked body, your tits pushing against your bra, the hem of your black thong high on your hips and you slip your heels off.

He pulls his dick out, red tip leaking with precum already. He’s practically the same length as Matt, with a little more girth. It’s a little intimidating but your needs overpower, your mouth watering as you look at him.

You open your mouth, puckering your lips to let a pool of saliva drip down onto his length and you make eye contact with Matt, the look he gives you making a spark run through you.

Chris groans as you look back at him, spreading your spit down him with your hand before you wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue. “Shit… feels so fucking good.” He rasps.

His chest is moving up and down as he breathes deeply, exhaling from his nose as he grits his teeth, and you take him further into your mouth. It’s a little hard to adjust to his size but you do, bobbing your head as he brushes the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

He moans loudly, bucking his hips up slightly. He pulls your hair back from your face, holding it into a ponytail, tightly, pulling at your hair a little. This makes you moan in return around him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at the pleasure. The air in the room is thick now, the sounds of Chris fucking your mouth and his groaning filling the space. You can feel Matt’s stare on you, and your knees dig into the softness of the shaggy black carpet, your grip on Chris’s thighs tightening.

“Fuck.” He pants, and moves his hands down your back, your body bending slightly so your ass poked out, allowing him access to feel you up. He caresses the flesh of your cheeks, massaging them before he brings one hand down to smack you.

You jolt slightly, not expecting him to do that, and hum around him, your thighs clenching.

“Yeah? You like that?” he says, smacking you once more, making it sting a little. You make another noise of approval, his cock still stuffed down your throat but then pull out, with a response you’re later bound to regret. “Not hard enough.”

You look up through your lashes at him and your heart races from how mad he looks. When Matt gets that mad, his eyes glaze over, and his face is cold. But Chris smiles. Even though his eyes are hard, there’s a grin on his face that says, ‘You have no idea what you just started.’ It’s insanely attractive.

He then reaches next to him, the metal of his belt clanking. He folds it, and you see the genuine leather thick in his hand.

He grabs the back of your head, knotting his fingers in your hair. “Did I tell you to stop?”

You glance at Matt and his hand palms over the hardness in his jeans, his other hand gripping on the arm of the chair.

Fuck.

You take Chris into your mouth again, your ass in the air for him. He sighs as he slips back down your throat, dragging the belt across you. He does this agonizingly slow, your head working on him. Finally, he slaps your it on your ass, hard. You moan loudly, your nails digging into his thighs. “How’s that, princess?”

You breathe out hard from your nose, the harsh sting of the belt lingering. Chris rubs his hand over your cheek, soothing the skin there, allowing you a few seconds of relief before he brings it down against you again, a loud smack ringing in the air.

You cry out, tears forming in your eyes and bring your head up slightly, gasping for air.

See, the pain… the pain sucked. You saw red each time you were punished like this but after the few seconds of hurt passes, you feel a rush of euphoria, and tingles of pleasure you just can’t get enough of.

“Hm? Don’t got anything to say now? Is this what you wanted?” Chris says, his large hands squeezing and rubbing you, before bringing his belt down once more against you. All you can do now is whimper, your actions on Chris at a complete stop, while you grip his thighs, tears now streaming down your face, mascara running.

You look up at him through your pitiful tears, his teeth sunken into his bottom lip so hard it almost draws blood. Your face is flushed, lips red and swollen. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He whispers and your heart flutters at his compliment.

You wonder if Matt heard and flick your gaze to him again. His jeans are unbuttoned now, his black boxers showing, his hand still on himself but not moving. He smirks, enjoying the fucked out look on your face.

Chris then grips your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look back at him.

“What do you think Matt? Think she deserves to cum?”

“Give her what she wants.” He replies.

a/n: soooo this one was supposed to be a full one shot but i had to split it into two parts or else it was gonna be too long lol i had this idea in my head i just had to write it out, so i promise i'll work on the final part of my matt series soon!!

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