#this has been bothering me since the game came out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writersdrug · 5 months ago

Note

I need the bartender Simon having to escape upstairs for a few minutes just to control the monster in his pants just because of a more direct provocation from the reader

I was saving this ask and I think this is the perfect moment after Simon sees reader in his shirt, no?

Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, sex toy, pining, daydreaming about p in v sex

He doesn't dare go up to his room - even after the bar is closed, after you and Johnny are both gone, after his tasks are complete. His mind has been scrambled ever since you came down in his shirt, looking like you'd just woken up from having a nap in his bed. He knew that wasn't the case, but it was so easy to pretend. You made it easy, looking like wearing his shirt was just your typical Friday outfit. If he tried hard enough, sitting at the bar after hours, sipping on an Old Fashioned- he could imagine you were up there right now, lying stomach-first in his bed, wearing his shirt, with "LT RIELY" on your back - you weren't objective, he certainly doesn't think of you like that - but having his claim on you aroused the most primal part inside him. If only you could see what you've done. Did you even know it?

Price comes lumbering down the stairs. Simon doesn't bother to look at him; he sits at the bar, his Old Fashioned long gone, with an empty whiskey glass and the mostly-full bottle next to him. He was hoping to replace the thought of you with drinking, but he didn't have the stomach for it.

"I'm plannin' to see if Garrick wants to join the team." Price says, shrugging on his jacket. "I know he wanted to be his own man, but we could use him. Our girl's made this place quite popular."

Simon wants to spit out the words he'd just heard. Our girl. Whose girl? John's? Soap's? The entire pub? It was his name on your back. Not Price. Not MacTavish. He was the one you came to with all those receipts, numbers scribbled in the margins, trusting him to help you ward them off. Sure, you have fun with everyone, asking them all for help - but you go to him the most easily, whenever you need to feel safe. Bad customers, bad situations - you looked to him. Didn't that mean anything to Price?

He doesn't respond to his captain, choosing to stare at his empty glass instead. Price looks at him quizzically.

"Feelin' alright, there?"

Simon grunts. "Long day."

Price knows he's bullshitting him. He knows exactly what this is about. He sighs, pulling his beanie on and tucking the money pouch into his jacket. "If you want 'er, Simon, tell me to back off. Can't read your mind."

That has him pursing his lips, grip tight around the sides of his glass. He would have punched John, was he any other man. He knows exactly what Simon's thinking, yet he makes him work for it. Typical. His pride and his jealousy are fighting tooth and nail against each other, but he can barely say a word.

Price stands there a moment, waiting for Simon to speak - but he doesn't even spare the owner a glance. Bastard's always punishing himself... he thinks, sighing again.

"Bright and early tomorrow, lad." He says, heading towards the kitchen. "Lights off when you're done here." He knows Simon's capable of closing, but he repeats it every night regardless.

"Sir."

Price stops, halfway through the kitchen door. He looks at Simon, who's now staring directly back at him. There's a look in his face, something that reminds him of Ghost - the reason he became his right-hand man.

"Respectfully..." he says slowly. "Back off."

Price almost finds it comical. Like an animal staking its claim, staring at its rival - except they’re not rivals. The only reason Simon is bothering to play his captain's game, asking for permission to have what Price would happily hand over, is because he's his superior. Even if they're all retired from the SAS, no one ever really dropped the dynamics of the team.

He smiles, nodding his head once. "Understood." He says, shoving himself through the kitchen door. "But hurry up and say somethin' to 'er. I'm sick of you losing your mind during the rush."

With that, Simon hears him leave through the back door. He stays there for a moment, his mind reeling - he feels both satisfied and angry at the same time. It was a bit humiliating to tell Price to leave you for himself - you don't belong to him. But that was a problem he was going to fix. You had his name on your back-

For Christ’s sake, he’s got to give it a rest. You wore his shirt, that was all. You wore it – with no bra. Bare. Naked underneath the 141’s insignia, under his title.

And that damn bra is still in his room.

He can’t take it anymore. He unscrews the whiskey bottle and takes a few swigs, before slamming it back onto the bar top. He leaves the bottle and the glass there as he gets up, making his way across the floor, up the stairs, passing the office, and continuing up to his studio flat.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. If you’d gone snooping, you either did a good job of hiding the evidence, or you didn’t really rifle through too much. His bed was untouched, his books and items where he had put them last – he goes into his drawers, checking to see if you had gone through anything other than his shirts. Considering everything is still where it should be, he assumed not. Though you did leave a mess in his shirt drawer – you’d been digging around in there until you found his old SAS shirt. Did you mean to do that? Were you looking for something with his name on it, just to drive him insane?

He goes back into his top drawer, muttering a curse as he pushes the contents aside. His cock is pulsing in his pants as he grabs his pocket pussy, slamming the drawer shut and heading towards his bed. He doesn't want to draw this one out - this is nothing more than a wank, just to get you out of his head. He sits at the foot of his bed and unbuttons his jeans, pulling his hard length out of his briefs – it bounces up and slaps against his abdomen, precum already smeared across the tip. He’s been hard for hours now, trying not to cum in his pants at the thought of your tits rubbing against the inside of his shirt. Do you have small, pebbly nipples? Or ones that are soft and pliant? He growls as he smears the tip of his cock against the lips of the toy, rubbing up and down the slit. He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. You’re there, rubbing your lips on his cock, your hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as you stare up at him, licking and kissing his tip like a good girl…

He scowls and opens his eyes, sitting upright – he sees your bra hanging off the back of his chair, and he nearly passes out form how quickly the blood rushes to his cock. Pink lace, delicate and kinda skimpy… and your shirt, crumpled on the seat of the chair. You’d forgotten to shove them into your bag before you left. Or did you do this on purpose?

He's reaching out before he realizes it, slowly standing up and heading towards the chair. He wants to grab your bra, rub his cock in it until he stains it with his thick cum – but something in the back of his mind keeps him from touching it. One, it’s purely you, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. Two, he’s trying to cum. Not to cum to you. He’s doing this to get rid of your image in his head.

So, he goes for the next best thing. He grabs your shirt and sits back down on the edge of the bed. He lines himself up with his fleshlight and brings your shirt to his face; no wonder the drinks had turned it translucent, it was the thinnest fabric he had ever felt. Practically skin.

He presses it against his face and inhales: the scent of you, sweet, floral and spicy, fills his mind. It makes it all to easy to imagine that you’re sinking down onto his cock, and not that he’s stuffed it as far as he can into the toy. He groans, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pumps his hips once, then again… the tightness of the fleshlight slides over him easily, offering no resistance with the precum acting as a lube while he grinds up into it, heat knotting in his gut. The waist of his jeans hugs his thighs as he slowly and steadily pulses towards the ceiling, taking deep breaths of your scent.

He feels like an animal. Dirty, cheap, and desperate. He has to remind himself that it’s not about you, it’s about having a good wank and getting you out of his head. He drops your shirt on his chest and uses his free hand to cup his balls, groaning as he massages them. The schlick of the fleshlight around his dick is loud, the sensation borderline painful as he quickly fucks into it, curses spilling past his lips as he slams the thing down to the base of his length, catching on the Jacob’s ladder piercing on the underside, then back to the tip.

He shouldn’t, but he lets his mind slip elsewhere. What would you be doing? Would you have your hands on his chest, lips parted in a moan as you drop your hips onto his thighs, your cunt dripping and squeezing around his member…? What are you doing now? Are you still wearing his shirt? Are you lying back on your bed, playing with your breasts under the fabric and using your other hand to toy with your pussy? What do you sound like? Are you saying his name, or can you make any sound at all?

He falls back against the bed. “Fuck fuck fuck-“ he mumbles. He’s caught himself in a trap here – he can’t allow himself to indulge in the thought of you, begging him to take your hips and buck up into you – but it’s impossible to get you out of his head. Even if he could, he doesn’t think he’d be able to cum without you. He squeezes his fist around the fleshlight, groaning loudly from the pain, trying to drown out the sounds of your moans in his head… you’re always there, ever present, leaning over him and whimpering in his ear, need you, Simon, wanna cum on your cock, want it inside-

It's all too much for him, but not enough. He turns himself over, climbing up to his knees on the bed. He props himself up on his forearm, holding the fleshlight with his other hand as he ruts into it, stuffing his cock in as far as it will go, until the lips are smashed against the base. He pants and groans, mouth hanging open as he hovers over the bed; over you, holding one of your thighs up, touching his forehead against yours, watching as you’re covered in a layer of sweat, tits bouncing with each violent thrust of his hips. Both wrists secured above your head with one of his meaty hands, whimpers and whines spilling from your mouth as you struggle to remain coherent. Your cunt swallows him greedily, hugs him tightly, pulses around him, coaxes him to pound into you harder and harder, your walls twitching as slick gushes around him, your fingers digging into the back of his hand as you cry out his name, “Simon, Simon, Simon”-

He hisses through his teeth as his balls seize up, his abdomen going taut and his dick twitching in the toy. He rips the fleshlight off and grabs your shirt without a second thought, wrapping it tight around his cock and pumping it. “Gonna cum, gonna cum- fuck- oh, fuck-!” He mumbles to no one as his orgasm is ripped from him, hips canting repeatedly as cum spurts into the fabric of your shirt, leaking out around his thighs as he thrusts into it, thighs aching from the exertion. He bites into his hand and growls as he continues rutting, fighting through the overstimulation to chase what remains of his high – but he soon collapses on the bed, huffing and groaning into the mattress.

His orgasm fades slowly, his heart ramming against his ribcage and the fog clearing from his head. Realization sinks in as he’s hyper-aware of your shirt, still wrapped around his dick, now soaked in his cum. He'd have to wash it, now. Filthy doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels, but he doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He rolls onto his side, clutching your shirt in his hand. Fuck. One quick tug was all this was supposed to be, and now, he’s picturing you lying across from him. Face flushed, lips swollen and eyes hazy, smiling at him and panting. Telling him you love him. He’d say it back a million times. Listening as you breathe, as you talk about your silly little ideas for the pub, for redecorating his room… craving the moment where you drag yourself closer to him and snuggle into his chest for the rest of the night.

He hasn’t gotten rid of you, like he hoped for. He’s only made it more clear: he wants you. He wants his life to be threaded with yours, he wants to wake up next to you, he wants you to change his routine, to pick up his broken pieces and make a mosaic – and he wants to be there when you need someone, he wants to give you everything you want and more, whether that’s a life up in the clouds or down here, in his arms, in his small bed and lackluster apartment. You’d make it better; you’d make anything better.

He sighs, slowly sitting up and on the edge of the bed. Price was right – he’s got to hurry up and say something to you, or else he’ll be drowned in his obsession. You’d either agree to take this fucked-up giant on a date and end his misery, or you’d reject him, and he could force you from his thoughts and replace you with misery. It’s worked before.

He pulls off his jeans and shirt and grabs the fleshlight, standing with a grunt and walking into his bathroom. He’s planning to clean the toy, but if he waits long enough, he might just be fucking it again in the shower.

#bartender ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost cod #call of duty #cod x reader

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narcjsistx · 4 months ago

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𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐄𝐖... | sae, kaiser, rin

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

plot: you get mentioned in one of their interviews, and he's sooo in love with you <3

— sae itoshi

That Sae didn't like interviews was a well known thing, even the journalists were a little worried when they discovered they had to interview him: although he was a prodigy, a talent never seen in years and years of soccer, he was objectively a thorn in the side, acidic and lethal in words as he was with his shots in the penalty area. All the journalists who had dealt with the Japanese prodigy could say, with absolute certainty, that a slap or being fired was less annoying

And today was no exception. ReAl had just won a very important Spanish cup, but one that Sae didn't actually know much about. They simply told him to be himself, and so he did: the result was a landslide victory against the Venezuelan team, 7-1. The match had been over for less than half an hour and he had already been surrounded by journalists, whom he had pushed away with little courtesy as he headed towards the locker room. But one journalist had insisted more than the others, and with a sigh, the boy had dedicated 5 minutes of his time to him

"Exciting victory today, isn't it? Spain had been aiming for this cup for years but they only won it when you had a place in the team" says the journalist, microphone pointed towards Sae. A man, a little further away, held a video camera on his shoulder, pointed towards them. Sae nods, turning away when he swears he hears someone call out to him in a familiar voice. The reporter continues talking, but Sae pays no attention: that voice sounded so familiar

"So that's a yes?" the reporter says, the microphone still pointed towards him. Sae doesn't even know what question he asked him, but the mere fact that he's still here trying to get information out of him bothers him. "What?" he asks raising an eyebrow, and before the reporter even says it, Sae knows it's about you

“Your girlfriend isn't here today, which is strange considering she's always present at your games, even when they're out of town” the reporter says, probably repeating the words he asked him earlier. Sae isn't even surprised by the question, he already knows what he wants to ask him and mentally thanks himself for not answering with 'yes' at the previous question "Is this a sign that you've broken up? There have been rumors for a while that the feeling between you two is over-"

"No. We have not broken up and at the moment, and even in the future, the option is not in mind for either of us" says the boy without thinking for two seconds, taking the edge of the microphone with one hand, so that his words they arrive very straight. The journalist is surprised

Today, for the first time since you've been together, you couldn't come to his game. You actually haven't seen each other in a while, at least a month, and all the speculation that you had broken up had reached Sae's ears. Everything seemed to fit, the perfect breakup after years of a perfect relationship and a wedding ring on the line that Sae had offered you months ago. Everything seemed to coincide with the end of one of the most talked about relationships of the moment

But the reality is that simply, for university reasons, you had to move to Italy for a few months. Sae often came to you, but couldn't stay for whole days due to training... and so, for just over a month, you hadn't seen each other. If the truth wasn't known, you would actually look like a couple who hated each other by now

“Would you tell us more about all the evidence that has been circulating for over a month?” asks the journalist, and the boy already knows in his mind that the interview will not end well if this damned journalist continues to be so interested in something that does not concern him

Sae sighs. He knows that, from your temporary home in Italy, you are watching him. He knows well that every word he is saying you are listening to him. And it's time to make things clear once and for all,or he thinks he's going crazy

"Y/n and I haven't broken up, it's not on our minds and wedding preparations are currently underway. I hate when people seem so interested in something that actually has nothing to do with them, but I understand that it's your job and that's why I'm holding back from going harder on it" says Sae in one breath "My future wife and I don't have anything remotely negative in mind for our relationship, so if you would do me the favor of mentioning her only when there really is a reason, I would be happy" says Sae, and the journalist is suddenly understanding why all his colleagues had told him to stay away from the Japanese prodigy "So, if you really have questions for me about my performance today, I'll try to answer. Otherwise, bye" he says, handing the microphone back to the man, who takes it completely speechless

The camera shows him leaving, hiding the journalist who is still speechless. The camera zoom focuses on the background of Sae's phone, which appears for a few seconds when the boy takes the phone while heading towards the locker room. A photo of you and him cheek to cheek stands out, a small smile breaking across the boy's face as you laugh. With only this proof alone, literally everybody could definitively say that you didn't break up

— micheal kaiser

Micheal was now used to interviews. Since he had actually become someone, someone relegated to Germany's biggest soccer club, interviews had become an everyday thing, like brushing his teeth or kicking the ball as hard as he could during training. He was good looking, he had charisma, he was definitely one of the most pleasant to interview on his team. If the interviewer was a woman he would crack a few jokes, something to make things more interesting. It was objectively flirting with them, but since you had officially become his girlfriend, he had put a stop to these things, out of respect for you

The room was well furnished, he was sitting on a sofa placed in front of the large windows, which gave a view of the great metropolis of Hamburg. You were with him, sitting behind the cameras on a chair placed there at random. He had insisted to the producers that you appear next to him during the interview, but it wasn't possible. His nose was still a little crooked knowing that they got you that beat up chair by sheer luck. You were his empress, the respect they had for him they had to give to you too, and it hadn't happened

He knew that you didn't really care that much, but your respect was something that, at least in front of him, they couldn't miss. But making a fuss just for this didn't seem right at the moment, at most he would have done it after finishing the interview

A woman enters the room, probably only a few years older than him, in her thirties. She looked familiar, and he wasn't sure why he had a bad feeling. The woman approaches, sitting on one of the armchairs next to him. They could have changed your chair for that armchair, why hadn't they done it?

"It's a real pleasure for me to interview you again. It's been a long time since the first time!" the woman says smiling, and from there Micheal finally understands why he felt like he knew her: a few years ago, before he even met you, he did an interview with this woman. The video had gone viral not for the questions, but for the way it was obvious the two of them were flirting with each other. Not that Micheal was really interested, it was just a habit before he met you

Before he can even say anything, a producer announces the start of the interview. The woman smiles at the camera, giving a brief introduction before moving on to a few questions: they are all things related to soccer, Bastard Munchen and the next match against Italy, which will take place in a few weeks. Micheal relaxes his nerves a little to see that nothing has to do with his private life, and turns around to see you from time to time. You smile softly at him, nodding as a sign that he's going well, really everything is going well

But Kaiser relaxed too soon, unfortunately. "Sooo, the internet world has been wondering this for a while... and now seems like the right opportunity to ask it! We're done with soccer questions anyway, right?" the woman says, chuckling, placing a stack of notes on a nearby table, picking up another. Kaiser tilts his head, and for a moment, he thinks these are the usual questions related to his relationship. Nothing new

"Our first interview was four years ago, when you weren't even dating yet. The internet world wondered for a long time if we were together!" the woman says, with a look that Kaiser recognizes: hoe. He turns to you and for a moment he reads some confusion on your face "The interview went so viral that everyone really thought it was a way to reveal our relationship to the world. But it didn't go that way, unfortunately" says the woman

If he wasn't live nationally and if the interviewer wasn't a woman, he would have already crushed her face with his fist. With what logic does she talk about something like that in front of you, his girlfriend? Where's the fucking respect they're supposed to give you but are lacking in every possible way? Everything is going wrong

“It sure would have been a fun thing to do and-” the woman says speaking casually, but the guy interrupts her “Schatz, could you come over here for a sec?” Kaiser says, shifting his attention solely to you, who finds yourself perplexed for a moment. He's breaking every rule possible, but he doesn't care. If he wants you next to him on national live broadcast, the producers will make you stand next to him on national live broadcast

You get up from the chair a little scared, walking among the producers who mentally and not curse Kaiser. You pass the woman who, with an annoyed look, stares at you. With slightly shaky legs you sit next to Micheal, who immediately grabs you putting his arm around your shoulders, pushing your hip against his. You try to smile as best you can in front of the camera, which records everything. Kaiser squeezes your shoulder slightly, and then turns his face back towards the camera "I don't rule out that that interview made me go viral everywhere for months and months, increasing my fame" says the boy "But my behavior was a bit wrong at the time, I was definitely giving attention to people who shouldn't have been..." says Micheal, and while you try to hold back a laugh, the interviewer opens her paralyzed mouth

Kaiser chuckles at the situation, then continues "The attention that I used to give to random people is now received by her, who deserves it all. The mere fact that she accompanies me everywhere is a valid reason to love her, right?" the boy says, squeezing your shoulder again, and you smile in love "She is simply better. It's not even a competition, because she would win before even starting. Maybe if my girlfriend had been the interviewer that time I would say differently now! Maybe I would have already married her, who knows" Kaiser says, and you tilt your head against his shoulder, leaning on him like you always do. You're so damn in love with him

If the producers and interviewer failed to give you respect behind the scenes and also with annoyance, Kaiser will make sure to prove your worth in front of the whole Germany

— itoshi rin

If there was one thing that distinguished Rin from his teammates, it was the ability to turn each of his interviews into a future edit that would become popular on all social media. He was famous, damn famous, every scene of his was edited by millions of people every day. His interviews, for his fans, were the best opportunity to make scenes about him

And since you had been dating, for a few years now, you had suffered more or less the same treatment as Rin. You often appeared in his interviews, you were loved by his fan base, and the edits about you that went as viral as those of your beloved boyfriend

"...the Australian defense this time had to face a much better prepared Japan than last match" says the interviewer, the microphone held out towards Rin. A match has just ended, obviously won by Japan: Rin is still sweaty, his legs slightly weak from running for practically the entire duration of the match. But he's not sick, he's simply tired and he just wants to kiss you

Of course you came to his game, taking a seat in the VIP section of the players' families. It's a habit that, as soon as the match is over, he comes to the VIP section to kiss you, but this time he couldn't: the journalists completely captured him, making it impossible to even move a few meters

"Yes. We decided to change the defense to prepare for Australia's top scorer, who couldn't do anything this time compared to previous matches" Rin replies disinterestedly, looking for you. There are just so many people, so many players or interviewers, but where the hell are you? Didn't something happen to you?

"It must also be said that Japan no longer has any problems in terms of strikers since you joined as an honorary member of the team" says the interviewer, and Rin nods without actually thinking much about what they told him. He just has a strange feeling, he doesn't understand why he isn't seeing you when it's never been difficult for him to find you in a crowd of people

"Any projects in mind at the moment? On a soccer level or on a personal level?" the interviewer asks, but Rin stops hearing him when, a few meters away from him, he sees you: you're a little lost, your gaze curious while you were probably looking for him too. It makes him somewhat tender to see you like this, but he is happy to know that all his doubts about whether something had happened to you are false

"Mr. Itoshi?" the man asks, but Rin takes a few steps forward, not enough to disappear from the camera lens, to signal to you that he's there. It doesn't take you long to notice, running like a little girl in his direction, hugging him as you wrap your arms around his neck, while he places his hands on your hips. "I couldn't find you!" you say laughing, holding onto your boyfriend who holds you close to him "It's the journalists' fault" Rin whispers, leaving a kiss on your cheek before remembering that he's in the middle of an interview. He turns just enough to see that the camera is now perfectly directed towards you, immortalizing the romantic moment between Japan's number one striker and his beautiful girlfriend. The edits will be crazy this time

You notice that the camera is pointed towards you, and a little embarrassed you try to smile without revealing the hint of discomfort "I'll be back later?" you say to your boyfriend, who before you can even finish the sentence, shakes his head as he grabs your wrist "No. You're coming too" he says walking back towards the station, squeezing your wrist affectionately. You follow him, a little embarrassed but it wasn't the first time it happened, so you had gotten used to it

Rin returns to his seat, his arm around your waist ignoring the fact that he almost slipped out of an interview. You stand next to him, your arm behind his back, smiling at the man who now knows both of them "Were you saying?" Rin asks, returning to the interview questions

"Oh, yeah yeah... any projects in mind at the moment? On a soccer level or on a personal level?" the interviewer asks again

Rin thinks about it for a moment. The plans are actually there. He must still become the best of the best, climb to the top and lead Japan to be the strongest team in the world. It simply has yet to break some of its limitations

But there are also other projects. He has to decide when to use that ring he bought more than a few months ago. He must understand when to kneel down and definitely ask you to become Miss Itoshi, his wife. These are mainly his most important projects at the moment

"I still have a lot to do, Japan has to become the most important and strongest team in the world, and maybe I will take on the role of team captain. On a personal level though... I don't know, I just want to continue what I already doing for a while… making her happy every day” Rin says, and you can swear you feel your heart explode

Your boyfriend isn't a big talker, you knew this even before we got together. But the facts speak, and he is doing exactly what he says: every day he makes you happy, and you couldn't be more grateful. His words may seem like nothing, but they mean a lot to you. You simply love him. The interviewer smiles. You turn to Rin and he leans down slightly to kiss you on the nose, making you giggle while the cameras film you

Maybe Rin could use that ring tonight, maybe?

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tojisteddy · 12 days ago

Text

If you have a problem, Toji can easily correct it.

cw: 3.1k words (dawg it was NOT supposed to be that long), brat! taming, oral (m receiving), face fucking, piv, overstím, dom/sub dynamic, dacryphilia, dub-con, punishment, breath play (kinda idk), Daddy (?) kink, creampie, spanking, pet names (baby, sweet girl, doll, mama, ma), no use of y/n, just plain debauchery.

No because Toji has to have his hands on you. Whether it be your hips, your back, your neck, your ass, hand holding, his arm around your shoulders— anything to let him know you were in arms reach and close. It wasn’t like he was a needy fuck, no, not some strict spouse that didn’t let you do your own thing.

But when you were together, he wanted— no— had to keep you near, you needed to be together.

But today, since you’d left from your place and to the bar with friends, you’d been avoiding his touch.

Purposely.

Just wanting to test the waters out since you didn’t mind constantly being close. He was your spouse after all. Unless you said otherwise, he could touch you anytime he wanted.

His hand went for your back for the sixth time tonight and there you were, silently shifting out of his reach as you went on and on to your friend about some twitter gossip he didn’t give a fuck about. He was being oh-so patient with you but you were being a brat.

He looked over at you who acted as if all was well with the world and hysterically laughed to himself, fuck, you were good.

Toji put down his beer he couldn’t be bothered to finish. His hand slowly making its was around your shoulder, you were trying to get out of his grasp yet again. But he snuggled you close, a casual look on his face as he replied to something a friend said. He’d looked down at you with a glint in his emerald eyes.

‘keep it up.’

It was silent, unnoticeable to those around you.

Fuck, you were 10-0, you knew you were losing and had already lost the game you were playing. But sometimes you gotta shoot for the stars, aim for the moon, make a slam dunk when you don’t even know the first steps to playing basketball!

So you went for an illegal home run on bullshit.

Avoiding Toji’s gaze, his touch, his voice— hell— going to get another drink you were gonna pass off to your friend just to get away from him. You were hitting all the bases, and with knowing smile, you jumped on home plate.

Imagine giggling and waving with a stupid grin on your face on national tv after losing the championship game knowing the coach was about to hound on you like the second rapture— it was like that when the night came to an end.

You both said your goodbyes without any issue, Toji’s hand at the small of your back like a gun.

‘Keep still.’

He didn’t need to say anything, you didn’t have to try anymore, he’d give you what you wanted.

~~•~~

“Hmmaahh Toji—“

“No.”

“Papaaa.”

“God damn, you’re so loud— Shut. The fuck. Up.”

You regretted it.

Seriously, you regretted it.

If you had, had your lawyers (you) properly look over the legal documents (aka the current situation) before you signed it, they would’ve snatched the pen away and burned it.

Counting.

A “game” Toji suggested you two play when you got back home. No matter how much music played, or the way Toji made casual conversation with you about your shared plans for tomorrow despite his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel— there wasn’t enough room in the car for you to say no.

The game consisted of you having to count to 100 as Toji’s large hand laid excruciating slaps to your ass. It was fine the first ten but then you got to 20, and then suddenly— you groaned, gripping onto the older man’s pants leg. As if he, of all people, was going to save you from this situation.

“Thirrty threeee.”

He scuffed, “Don’t tell me you can’t count. Start over.”

“Wha- Toji!”

“I won’t repeat myself.”

Another painful smack. You hiccuped, looking back at Toji who was looking down at you emotionless. As if he was telling you, ‘We can start again, it doesn’t matter to me.’

“O-one.”

“Keep going.”

“T-twooo.”

You were slurring your words, tears coming out of your face and you lost count again around 40

But that wasn’t good enough, he’d rangled you to the floor and on your knees (he knew your ass hurt and made sure to give you a quick break, a sweetheart :) ), forcing your mouth open without a care about how you felt and putting the tip of his swelling cock to your pretty, moisturized lips. Not wanting to make him any more upset, you opened your mouth. You expected praise because that’s what Toji always did, but instead your head got pressed to go further down his manhood. You went to take the base of it with your hands but Toji slapped them away.

“Keep your hands to yourself baby. No touching tonight.”

And what the hell did that mean?

Even though a third of his girthy cock was in your mouth, and he was still gripping your hair to get closer— there’s no way he expected you to take all of him, there’s absolutely no way.

“Relax your cute little throat, or I’ll shove it all in. Your choice.”

Shit.

“Theeeere you go, baby. Therrrre you go! Look like a fucking slut trying to take all ‘f me, good thing I’m here help, right?”

Toji was big, too big. To the point, you couldn’t breathe as he slowly gave you the last few inches of his dick. But fuck, the less you were able to breathe the more you relaxed. It oddly made you feel good. You could hear your clit pulsing as Toji pulled your head back, causing you to gasp and then shoving it back in before you got the chance to breathe. In and out, in and out, in and out, in—

The man gripped the curls, that took you so long to define each and every strand, his cock leaking even more at the sight of you. You were so perfect. Hopless but perfect.

“Your pretty mouth— shiit— must’ve been made for this. All you wanted to do was take this dick. Haaa, prove tuh Papa how bad you are but you only want me to abuse that tight fucking throat of yours.”

You had precum falling down your chin to your breasts, his balls slapping against you every single time he thrusted into your tight ass mouth, you could hear the sound of squelching in your mouth— it was filthy.

But the way Toji looked down at you, his emerald eyes looking as you were the scum of the earth— God, you couldn’t get enough of it.

Your nose was touching the black pubic hairs, your glanced up, his head thrown back, moans unable to escape him because you felt so damn good. That sight alone, turned you on further, a harsh moan coming around Toji’s veiny cock.

You were a moaning disheveled, disgusting, mess after that. You felt good simply knowing you were the one making Toji lose himself around you. It wasn’t helping the lack of air going to your brain. Your gummy walls were fluttering and hard, your brain felt foggy, all you could focus on was Toji and Toni ramming into your mouth like you were the only person on earth. You felt his cock twitch at the back your throat and suddenly, your mouth warm. Film to the brim with a thick, white substance.

“Swallow.”

Toji shoved you off of him and you fell to the floor. Gasping for air, cum dripping from your chin but your mouth was empty, and your cunt sopping in your panties, fucking clenching again and again for him. You weren’t just trying to catch your breath from his thick member being in your mouth, your chest out disheveled breaths, your legs were shaking— and Toji knew that lazy, stupid look like the back of his hand.

A deep, bellowed laugh came from the man’s stomach as he looked down at you. You’d unknowingly came. Untouched.

“Fuck, since when could you— shit mama.”

He was shaking his head, delirious with the thought, you were complete and utter putty in his hands.

“Again.”

“Huh?”

“Come on, suck it again. You’re not done.”

Toji wasn’t one to usually do punishments, there was no need to. You knew better.

But it was things like this that, in the grand scheme of things, weren’t a big deal. But Toji always made it very clear to you when he was angry— that it wasn’t just bully!Toji fucking with you. This was asshole!Toji who was gonna drag you down to hell with him, the one who you’d think is calm but had a knife behind his back, the one you actually pissed off and the one who would make it so very clear— you didn’t need to try it again.

Your eyes were puffy from crying so much, snot kept trying to come out that you kept sniffing back up and rubbing away, full lips swollen from taking his large cock to the hilt, your ass was completely red, you could practically see the hand prints on your brown skin, bite marks and hickies only left around your thighs, and your poor, sopping cunt was sore. Your clit was begging for mercy.

Above all else, this whole time: Toji wouldn’t hold you.

Wouldn’t let you wrap your arms around his back or shoulders when he was drilling you into oblivion, wouldn’t let you use his chest when you were riding him, kept your hands above your head or pinned them to the side, wouldn’t kiss you or even bite you. He wouldn’t even grip onto your hips for leverage as he was fucking from the back or as you rode him, only grabbing you by the hair or giving your ass a hard smack.

“No. Take all of it.”

“Stop it, you know how to move. Fuck it like it’s yours.”

“We don’t touch each other, now do we Doll?”

You’d apologized numerous times already, saying anything that could come to mind that would make the man happy but, no. Toji wouldn’t accept it, hell- he didn’t even give the idea of your apology the time of day. Your movements had come to a sudden stop, taking a few deep breaths. You needed a break, a minute— maybe a vacation after this. The man had spent hours eating you out like Jesus at the last meal till you snatched his head away by his hair.

Another mistake.

He’d had you sat in his lap, riding his cock, your hands hold your chest because ‘touching isn’t allowed.’ He kept you cumming, kept you shaking, kept your whimpering for more, more, more.

It didn’t satisfy you.

You hated how you felt, it made your heart ache, you felt nauseous. You felt unloved, detestable, abandoned— even though you knew Toji loved you. How he adored every inch of you, and you him. The older man was right there, in arms reach literally, you’d been taking all of his borderline monster cock tonight, everywhere he wanted, but he wouldn’t because you weren’t a good—

Oh, fuck.

No, you were really gonna cry. Like hyperventilating, sobbing on the floor after a terrible day of work and you can’t find the food your mind was dead set on eating cry. The sob was building in the back of your throat, more tears stung your eyes, your hands were shaking slowly reaching up his stomach. Trying again, the words unable to come out.

‘Please.’

Toji saw it, you were an inch shy from going into sub drop. He had looked like he was bored of you, but his eyes followed your every move. How your hips shook when he gave you one thrust to keep moving. Or how you’d tilt your head, curls following to the side of your face when you called out to him, for him to do anything to you.

Problem was, Toji didn’t just want you to feel what he felt earlier tonight— he wanted to completely ache for his touch. Even to go as far as pleading with the devil just for him to brush his fingers against your chin.

If you had to be a sobbing, babbling mess, so be it.

You were his to fuck up, his to fix, and his to discipline. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your weary eyes stuck on him, you looked so helpless, how precious, his sweet doll. Toji quickly put out the cigarette that he’d gotten half way through, motioning you over with one finger.

“Come ‘ere.”

Hell.

You were having an outer body experience. You felt your body fall on him, the sob escaped without a second thought, you clung to him as hard as you could. Your nails scratching his lower back as he held you tight. The two of you were practically blending together.

“Sorryy, ‘m sorry Papa- I-I-I didn’t mean toooo!”

That was a lie, but he knew what you meant. Though you usually stayed in your lane, sure you pissed him off now and then, but you were his brat, weren’t you?

“ ‘S okay baby, but just don’t like it when I can’t touch you. Told ya that before, didn’t I? You should listen to me next time, yeah?”

It didn’t sound comforting.

It never was.

But when you were in his big arms, the smell of cigarettes and a hint of oak on him, his soft kisses on your teary cheeks, the sound of his heart beat— you felt so reassured. Treasured. Cared for.

He hummed, sitting you up, still sitting on his fat, pulsing cock. He took your pretty face in his calloused hands, thumbs gently at the fallin tears. You leaned into his touch, fuck you loved his hands. So big, warm, veins all over them, they could be so sweet sometimes but so damn mean. Regardless of what happened, you’d be craving to feel them.

“What’s the safe word, [+]? Tell me.”

You sniffed, “dear.”

The older man’s hands slowly went down your sides, to your bruised hips, gently rubbing circles with his fingers.

“Wanna say it? ‘S okay if you do. Big girls say it.”

The room was still, the only sound was the both of your breathing and your soft sniffles. You kept rubbing your face, trying to get yourself together after being at your lowest and then being brought back up. Your hand gripped onto Toji’s bicep, just trying to feel him, any of him.

“Don’t need to. I’m okay.”

“Yeah?” He hummed, “Then whatd’ya wanna do baby? Whatever you want.”

Your voice cracked, it was embarrassing but who gives a shit? You needed him. You were desperate for him.

“Fuck, need you to hold me Toji!” you mewled.

Like a switch, the man was on you. Yanking you back down to him, slamming your hips down on him while thrusting up into you like his life depended it.

He loved snapping his hips up to meet yours, the gorgeous sight of your ass and hips rippling was droll worthy. He rasped, “Attaa girl, haaa, atta. fuckin. girl. Handle it so well ma. ”

“Toojiii!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth agape as you took every harsh thrust against your cervix. It was all so much, your chests pressed against each other. Toji’s breath was right your ear, biting your earlobe then sucking the sensitive area, his hands holding your two sore ass cheeks, using it as leverage— just what you needed.

“Love you! I— hmmm— love you, fuckin love you Papa! Sooo mu-ughh!”

“I knoooow mama,” he snickered, you were such a love sick baby, “bein so sweet f’ me. I love you baby.”

You moaned at his words, your heart swelling right along with your cunt. Pussy clenching around him and he groaned. He slammed you down on him even faster, even swiveling your hips around so you could cum.

“Toj—“

“Fuck, come on sweet girl, know you want to. Get there, hfff- fuckin make a pretty mess like you always do.”

You felt your lungs leave your body, quickly patting Toji’s shoulder as you quickly sat up, shattering around his dick. But Toji wouldn’t let you go, sitting up further against the headboard of the bed, taking your legs and throwing them over his biceps, his hands gripping into the two mounds of your bruised ass. Tip rubbing your folds that were crying ones, filled with plenty of white tears.

Toji eased his monster dick back into you, your mixed cum gushing out of you getting a moan out of him. He was drunk off you.

“Toji- ca- aagh! I can’t.” You hiccuped, using your hands to try and take him out of you. But he held you tighter putting your foreheads together with a huff,

“You can, hmm- shiit baby— you will.”

He was already slowly, slamming you down as hard as could. Your gummy walls, basically begging the older man not to let go of him. You two were huffing and puffing in each other’s open mouths, one of your hands going around Toji’s shoulder, the other griping his jet black hair that felt so nice between your fingers.

“Gonna— gotta give it to you just how you need, huh mama? Hmm— fuck meee baby— Just needed your Toji to set you straight.”

Your toes curled, a ‘yes papa.’ Leaving your pretty dark pink lips.

“Shit— kiss me Doll. Kiss me while you cum on my cock.”

Your lips immediately went to his, deliriously molding his pink lips to your two tone ones. It was sloppy, his tongue was at the back of your throat, you could hear how fucking wet it was a yards away. A string of saliva forming every time you pulled away for air.

His thrusts were slow, but they were so fucking mean, kissing your cervix every time he slammed you back down to the base of his cock, then lifted you up, up, up so the mushroom tip was almost hanging out then back down, so you would feel every. single. ridged vein, every pulse that ran through his manhood.

Your climax is like a punch to the gut, you scream into Toji’s mouth and he bit your lip. Immediately tipping over at the feeling of your walls clutching onto him like you needed his milk.

Your body shook as the black dots in your eyes consumed you. Toji brushes your hair back, fully enamored at the sight of you, leaving tender kisses around you neck and chest, heavily breathing from everything you two have just done.

“Good fuckin girl.”

#tojisteddy presents #toji x reader smut #toji smut #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #x poc reader #poc reader #black reader #x black reader #toji oneshot #first time writing about sucking #I did RESEARCH🤓🔬#lmk what y’all think #toji x y/n #toji #he’s manhandling out of love

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aemsgirl · 1 month ago

Text

In Spite of Us.

Modern Aemond x Reader.

Summary: Raised in an orphanage before being adopted by the same family, you and Aemond have always been bound by something deeper than childhood friendship. Darkness. Obsession. The kind of things that burrow into your minds and refuse to leave. In a world that couldn’t care less about either of you, the harsh truth remains: you’re all each other has—whether you like it or not.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Incest, drug and substance abuse, mention of graphic violence, mention of murder, mention of parental abuse, smut, degradation, possessive behavior, dub-consent.

Author's note: I'm deciding whether to continue. If you'd like to, please let me know.

In a world this fucked, it's no wonder it spits out people just as broken. Twisted up, chipped, and ready to snap. Minds that don't play by the so-called normal rules. You’re a glitch in the system, the full stop shoved into the middle of the sentence. A ticking bomb of chemical chaos, or maybe just the gnawing hunger that’s been chewing you from the inside out since day one. You knew it. Aemond knew it. Always did. You didn't fit, never would. For a while, that shit felt like a curse—like a weight tied around your neck. But then it became second nature, like breathing in poison and calling it air. You stopped fighting it, stopped letting it tear you apart. You didn't just wear it; you owned it. Hell, maybe you even died for it.

Aemond sometimes wondered where it all started. Maybe it was that hellhole of an orphanage, where they threw you both like trash. Not a home—just another cruel joke. A meat grinder, with its hunger pangs, freezing walls, and the constant line-up for scraps that were never enough. You were quiet, too fucking quiet, and that made people look at you sideways. But then there was him. The shadow that stood between you and the bigger boys who thought pain was a game. You didn't know why he gave a damn. Maybe it was that time you woke up in the dead of night and saw him sitting on the floor, staring at you like some ghost that couldn't rest. The dark didn't bother him, and his silver hair sure as hell didn't make him harder to spot.

He was there. Always was. And you? You were his shadow, just as much as he was yours. Years didn't change a damn thing. Then that joke of a family came along, slapped the word adoption on you both like it meant something. A better life? Bullshit. Things didn’t get better—they just shifted into another shade of misery.

Mum? She spent her days with a bottle of cheap wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other, blowing out clouds that reeked of fake watermelon. She used to say the sweet ones were best, even if they tasted like shit. And Dad? Oh, he loved Aemond’s silver hair. Loved it so much that when he was about to lose his temper, he'd hold onto him like some sick lifeline. But that didn't stop the scars. Those stayed, etched into his skin, courtesy of the belts and threads Dad liked to use.

Crying? Aemond didn't cry. He didn't have to. The silence screamed loud enough.

Years dragged on, and one day you weren't some helpless kid anymore. But the bullshit didn't stop—if anything, it cranked up a notch. You remember the screaming. How could you not? Dad’s twisted little excuses, his shitty jokes that got uglier every time, all just another way to go at you or Aemond. And Mum? She was barely even there—when she was, all she did was scream too. The sound of her begging still rattles in your head. “Stop. It hurts.” Over and over, bouncing off the walls like it could break something in him. It never did.

So, you did what you always did. Slid under the covers next to Aemond, the only refuge you had. Not that he reacted much. He’d just lie there, staring blankly at the ceiling, cold as death. It was like lying next to a corpse. But it was better than being alone. At least, that's the lie you kept feeding yourself.

It was during one of these times that you felt him react for the first time. His fingers slid down your thighs under the covers, gripping them firmly. They traveled up to your waist and disappeared under your shirt. His cold fingertips mapped your spine as if they were counting the bones there, his breath blowing at the back of your neck, and he leaned closer to bite your neck, hard enough to leave a mark on your jaw. You felt every sensation, as if the devil himself was licking your skin raw and bathing it in his saliva. When his hand found your breast and rolled your nipple between his fingers, you arched your hips back, and as you wiggled them, you found his member already hard under his loose shorts.

After that, it was like two beasts were being released from their cages at the exact same time.

Aemond turned his body and spread your legs, not even bothering to take off your shorts or yours panties, just pushing them aside. Pulling down his shorts revealed his cock, almost throbbing your name. At least that's what it seemed like, since he was calling for you. Grabbing your thighs, he parted them even more and thrust into you in one swift motion, until your groins slammed together. Over and over, growing in your ear, while using one hand to cover your lips, muffling the desperate cries of pain and ecstasy that escaped. His cock became a mess with your scent and the blood from your first experience, going deeper and deeper.

It was too much, for both your body and your mind. Your nails scratched into him as if you were ready to disintegrate him, the screams that had tormented your nights before vanished. Sweat clung to your bodies and the clothes you still wore, your walls squeezing him, pulling him even deeper. You felt whole, so fucking whole that your eyes rolled back. That was when you reached the first true orgasm of your life, before feeling Aemond pull out and spill over your belly, staining you in more ways than one. It was almost peaceful.

The peace shattered when the bastard stormed into the room. It didn’t feel real—more like some fucked-up fever dream. He yanked Aemond off you and threw him to the floor like trash. You tried to get up, but he was on you in an instant, his fist smashing into your face so hard it sent you sprawling back onto the bed. Your nose was leaking blood, your vision blurry as hell, but through half-closed eyes, you saw it all.

He mounted Aemond, his fists raining down in a storm of violence. But this time? This time wasn’t like the others. Something snapped. Aemond's thighs locked around the old bastard’s torso, flipping him over with a strength you didn’t even know he had.

That was it. That fucking line—the one that should never have been crossed—was gone.

Aemond let loose. His fists came down again and again, each punch sinking into the man’s face, his nose collapsing under the blows. Blood sprayed everywhere, pooling on the ground like a sick offering. Aemond’s knuckles turned black and blue, the flesh split and soaked in crimson, but he didn’t give a shit. He grabbed the bastard by the hair, slamming his head into the floor over and over, screaming like a man possessed.

The crack of his skull splitting open echoed through the room. Blood spread out like a dark halo around his head, but Aemond didn’t stop. No, stopping wasn’t in the plan. He wanted to tear the son of a bitch apart, piece by piece, rip him open from crown to toe, exposing every festering, rotting bit of ugliness for the world to see.

You saw it—the exact moment that piece of shit raised his hand and jammed his thumb into Aemond’s eye. That was it. No more waiting, no more thinking. You shot up from the bed, your hands grabbing the first thing in reach—a pen from your desk.

Your heart was hammering like a war drum as you moved in, the sharp tip aimed and ready. One step, and the pen sank deep into his left eye. You didn’t stop. Not until his face was a grotesque, unrecognisable mess, blood and pulp dripping down like something out of a nightmare.

When he finally stopped moving, you looked over at Aemond. His face was the same cold, detached mask he always wore, but his raw, trembling hands betrayed him. His silence was deafening.

You thought about saying something—hell, anything—but the scream cut through the room like a blade. Your head whipped to the side, and there she was. Your mother. Sliding to the floor, hands clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. She was still naked, her body a wreck from whatever that bastard had been doing to her before he’d turned his attention to you both.

There wasn’t time to think—fuck, thinking wasn’t even an option. You were on autopilot. Aemond was the first to move, landing a punch on Mum that sent her sprawling to the floor, her scream cutting off like a bad record. You didn’t even flinch. You were already moving, grabbing a backpack and shoving in whatever the hell you could find, yanking on the closest clothes without a second thought.

When you were done, you looked back at the scene—Mum on the ground, Aemond standing over her, the room still reeking of blood and chaos. You knew it then, as clear as the blood on your hands: you were fucked. This wasn’t something you could crawl back from. So Aemond found their stash of cash, shoved it into your bag, and bolted. No goodbyes, no second guesses. Just running.

Every moment after that was soaked in fear. The shitty motels you both crashed in, the greasy diners where you shoved down food that tasted like cardboard, the endless paranoia that came with every passing police car. Red and blue lights haunted the back of your eyelids, flashing like some kind of sick countdown. Every night, you stared at your fingers, half-expecting handcuffs to snap around them. But they never came.

The anxiety started to dull, forced out by exhaustion and the silence that hung between you two like a heavy fog. You never figured out why no one came looking. Maybe no one gave a damn about that bastard. Maybe the world had just decided to let you off the hook for once. Whatever the reason, the answers didn't come, and you weren't about to go digging for them.

Aemond was the practical one, the one with the plan—or at least the one who acted like he had one. He decided your next moves, no questions asked. He wasn’t afraid to dive headfirst into the filth, mixing with the worst kinds of people. And why the hell not? Everyone was scared of him. They didn’t see a guy—they saw a rabid animal, barely tethered. That suited him just fine. It suited you just fine. Fear opened doors, and Aemond kicked them wide open.

By working the right angles and talking to the right scumbags, you both found some good shit to sell, and before long, a shitty little hole to call home followed. He was always making extra stops, running his own little side deals with people who made your skin crawl. You didn’t ask questions, though. You knew better. Some of it was personal—his own brand of chaos that you didn’t dare get involved in.

And when things went sideways? When his preferences left a trail of wreckage behind? It always came down to you to clean up the mess. Blood, lies, broken promises—you were knee-deep in it, scrubbing his mistakes off the floor and praying no one noticed. That’s just how it worked.

So when you came home that morning, boots in hand, tiptoeing in like you were trying not to wake a sleeping beast, what you walked into didn’t shock you. Not really. You were past being surprised by shit like this. The living room floor was painted in scarlet, the blood so fresh it looked like it might still be warm.

And her? She was sprawled there in the middle of it all, like some fucked-up display. You couldn’t even tell what colour her hair was, not with how soaked it was in blood. Her throat—well, there wasn’t much of it left. Torn open, barely held together. Her face still stuck in this frozen mask of terror. Clothes? Forget it. She didn’t have a shred on her, just skin bruised all over like someone had been working her over for hours.

You took another step, then another, and there he was—Aemond. Lounging on the couch like it was just another Tuesday. Legs spread wide, head tipped back, a cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth, smoke curling up toward the ceiling. Blood covered him—his chest, arms, hands. It was everywhere, dripping down him like some grotesque masterpiece. The only thing untouched? His sweatpants, the one clean piece of fabric on him.

He didn’t even look at you. Just sat there, exhaling a long drag of smoke, like he’d just come back from a jog instead of whatever the hell this was.

"Where the fuck have you been?" His voice cut through the suffocating silence, sharp and loaded with accusation. You could have laughed—really could’ve—at the irony of him asking the questions when the room looked like this.

But you didn’t laugh. Not because it wasn’t funny, but because when you looked at him properly, you saw that he wasn’t in the mood for your shit. His eyes were hard, jaw clenched tight, teeth grinding into that cigarette like it had personally offended him. The black hair he’d been dyeing since everything went to hell was sticking to his pale, blood-slick skin, smoke curling around him like he was burning alive from the inside out.

He was pissed. You didn’t need to ask why.

“I went out for drinks,” you said flatly, like it wasn’t even worth a conversation, leaning down to drop your heavy boots onto the floor with a thud. That’s when it hit you—the ache in your thighs, sharp and unforgiving after hours spent dancing, grinding all that tension out of your body. You straightened up slowly, your muscles protesting, your gaze flicking back to him like you were daring him to say something about it.

"All night?" His voice was low, almost too soft. It was ridiculous, really—how the hell could he sound like a goddamn feather when everything about him screamed destruction? It was like he was about to rip you to shreds, but still, the tone came out smooth and menacing. "Are you sure?" The second question came, quieter, sharper.

You squinted at him, head tilting slightly, trying to piece together what game he was playing this time. Every time you left, it was the same damn thing. Coming back to that look in his eyes—something primal, dangerous, like he could rip through you without a second thought. Like he wanted to hunt you down, drag you back into the house, and break you apart, just like he did with the girl on the floor.

And goddamn it, you knew. You knew the thought had crossed his mind more than once. Every time you pulled some shit like this, he probably imagined slicing you open, testing how much you'd bleed. You didn’t even have to ask. You could see it in his eyes.

"Yes, all night," you answered, your voice sharp with irritation. He wasn’t the one who should be asking questions—not after the bloodbath he’d left on your favorite rug.

Aemond exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray beside him. Slowly, deliberately, he stood up. His bare feet made no noise as he walked toward you, stepping over the body like it was just another object in his way. You met his movement with your usual defiance, head held high and chin up, not showing an ounce of weakness. But that only seemed to make things worse.

He closed the distance, stopping just inches away, his hot breath hitting your face. He tilted his head down, leaning in closer, nose brushing against your skin as he took a deep sniff, his eyes narrowing as he examined you for something he didn’t want to see. The smell of blood, alcohol, and sweat mixed in the air, the tension thick enough to cut.

"You let someone fuck you?" he murmured, his voice dark and low. He exhaled slowly, searching your scent for any trace of another man’s presence.

Your fists tighten, nails digging into your palms as the sharp, metallic smell of blood mixes with something unmistakably Aemond—anger, frustration, and that volatile edge of his temper that never seems to stay contained. You should be used to it by now, the question always hanging in the air, the same shit over and over. The way he digs into it like a damn animal, hoping to find something he can’t.

"No." The word slips out, tight and clipped, your jaw clenching as you force the response. You see it in his eyes—the search, that desperate need to find an excuse, something to justify whatever the hell this is.

A heavy sigh escapes his lips, shoulders dropping momentarily before he tilts his head back, the movement slow and deliberate. You watch the way his throat works with the motion, the sight making your own lips dry. Then, without warning, his hand is in your hair, fingers curling tightly around the strands and yanking back hard. The pain is sharp, like a dagger to your scalp, and you’re quick to grab his forearm, trying to pull him away, but it’s useless. His grip is ironclad.

"Fuck off!" you gasp, the sting radiating through your scalp, but instead of backing off, he tightens his hold, the pull sending a hot rush of tears to your eyes as your skin stretches, every nerve alight.

Without any kindness, he begins to drag you across the room until he reaches where the girl's corpse now lay cold. Kicking the back of your knees, he brings you down to the floor on them, holding tightly to your hair. He positions himself behind you, pressing your cheek against his, using his grip to angle your face better towards the scene.

"Are you lying to me now, you fucking bitch?" his words are poured directly into your ear, the tone so deep it seemed to vibrate from his chest.

"I already said no!” you answer through gritted teeth, the unbearable pain in your head made worse by the amount you drank the night before.

With a grunt, he forces your face to the ground, pressing your cheek into the blood that was there, his open palm on your other cheek. He takes a moment to observe you in that position, so fucking at his mercy. He could break your jaw right now if he wanted to. He could mix your blood with that of the filthy whore on the ground. He could; it would be so damn easy, and you knew it.

"Yeah? You know what's gonna happen if you keep this up, don't you, little dove?" He smirks, grinding your face into the blood, the scent overwhelming your senses as he presses his body against your hunched, aching back. "Come on, scream it out, you fucking know." His voice, though low, slices through the air like a command.

"Fuck you!" you spit back, defiance burning in your eyes, refusing to yield even as the pressure on your jaw intensifies, like he's contemplating grinding you into the damn floor.

His hand snakes up under your dress, yanking it up until it's bunched around your waist like a cheap trophy. You squirm, but he just smashes your face harder against the floor, a silent fucking threat. His fingers creep between your thighs, hunting for any trace of dried cum, like he's some kind of detective in this sick game. His thumb brushes over your panties, feeling the dampness—not the old kind, no. You're getting wet for him right now, aren't you? Pathetic as fuck. He shoves the thin fabric aside, prying your flesh open with his fingers, delving deep, his lips curling in a sneer even as he bites down on them, craving to dive in, to sink his teeth into you, to chew up that whole defiant attitude of yours.

"Look at the fucking mess you've caused," he spits out, his voice as thick and hoarse as yours. He yanks your face up, his hand clamping around your jaw like a vice, forcing you to see the body sprawled out in front of you like some fucked-up centerpiece. "This is your goddamn fault, it was supposed to be you." His whisper slices through your ear, loaded with venom.

And he fucking means every word. It was supposed to be you bearing the brunt of his rage, dealing with his insanity when you pull your disappearing acts, when you don't give a shit about how worried he gets, how out of his mind he goes imagining what you're up to out there. How many more times does he have to spill blood, just to stop himself from snapping that pretty neck of yours, to punish you instead of some random street whore who looks like you just to vent his frustration?

"Yeah?" you manage to retort, attempting a smirk but his grip on your face makes it a twisted effort. You push through, showing him how much you mean it. "Then do it now." You're practically daring him, knowing damn well you'd go through with it.

Silence hangs thick and suffocating. You watch his fingers stretch out, then curl back into fists, like he's psyching himself up to finally break you. You almost embrace it, judging by the calm breath that escapes. You're ready for it, but then he lets you go, suddenly, and if it weren't for your hands catching you, your face would've kissed the floor. Your eyes track him as he strides over, hoists the girl's body onto his shoulders like she's nothing but a useless sack of bones.

"Clean this shit up," he orders, his voice cutting through the air, and your glare deepens.

You watch him walk off, heading to the garage with the girl's body swaying like some macabre metronome. The moment he's out of sight, you're left alone with the blood pool, aching knees, a pounding headache, your dress still rucked up, and your panties askew. And the worst part? You're dripping wet, throbbing, feeling hollow inside. Maybe that's his real punishment. Fuck him.

The hours blended together in a haze of endless scrubbing. The floor was an unforgiving mess, and no matter how hard you worked, it seemed like it would never be clean again. He hadn’t come back. You could only imagine where he was, dealing with the aftermath of everything he’d left behind. The carpet was ruined beyond repair, and everything you'd used—the cloths, the sponges—was burned, destroyed to erase any trace.

It was second nature by now. The motions, the repetition, the burning sense of inevitability. You'd done this so many times, it was like your fingers had become one with the sponge, hardened by the constant, futile effort to make it all disappear.

When it was all over, you were drenched in sweat, and the shower stretched on longer than you'd meant it to. You scrubbed your hair, your skin, trying to wash away all the filth from the night's ordeal. Your muscles screamed from lack of sleep and a day spent scrubbing, the water initially running dark with the grime. But damn, it felt good, so fucking good. Stepping out, you towel-dried yourself, slipping into a pair of panties and a blouse that might've been black once; you couldn't tell anymore. It wasn't yours—it was his.

As you headed out, you knew you'd run into him, and right on cue, there he was. He'd just arrived, helmet still in hand. His clothes were different, suggesting he'd cleaned up somewhere—likely at one of the crew's places, probably asked for help to deal with the "problem," and as always, he managed it. He carried a bag, full from what you could see at this distance.

He takes a moment, his gaze lingering on you drying your hair in the hallway before he advances, his steps deliberate and unhurried. When he reaches you, his face is that unreadable mask, giving nothing away. You couldn't tell if he was still pissed, if he felt any satisfaction or relief, or if he was just numb. With him, you never could.

His fingers dive into the bag, emerging with a Twix bar, the golden wrapper catching the light in his eyes. A small smile plays on your lips, and he returns it with his own subtle smirk, just a slight curve, no teeth. He unwraps the chocolate slowly, and once it's free, he brings it to your lips, tapping gently against your bottom lip. You open up, taking a small bite, and from the look in his eyes, he's completely captivated by the sight. It's like he's back at the orphanage, remembering how you'd pester him incessantly for these, how your eyes would light up brighter than anyone else's. No wonder there are several of these stashed in the fridge now. Idiot.

You take the candy from his grasp, holding it yourself, but his fingers don't retreat; instead, they rise to your cheek, where there's a hint of red that might bruise. His doing, no doubt. His thumb gently strokes the tender spot as you take another bite, the slight pain from the bruise barely registering. Your eyes lock with his as he steps closer, his head dipping to plant a kiss on your jaw. His lips feel like ice against your skin.

You feel him take a deep breath, as if to confirm your presence. His mood seems to have lifted, even if slightly. His lips trace a path down your jaw, along your face, while his hand moves to the side of your neck. Another small smile graces his lips, sending shivers down your spine.

"You stink," you mutter, though there's no real venom in your words. True as they are, the potent scent of sweat and dirt from him is overwhelming.

He inhales deeply, grunts, and uses the hand that was on your neck to push your face aside, not gently but not with the force he could muster if he really wanted to hurt you. That wasn't his intent right then. Without another word, he snatches the towel you were using and vanishes into the bathroom, the door shutting you out, leaving you to chuckle quietly. The dessert? You polish it off in one more bite, savoring the taste.

Back in the room you share, the window is always open, blue lights casting a glow on your skin, mingling with the smoke you exhale. On the table in front of you lies a near-perfect line of white powder, like winter snow but with the harsh burn of the summer sun. You lean over, one nostril pinched by your index finger, and take a sharp inhale, making the yayo vanish. The bitter taste hits your tongue, stars pulsing behind your closed eyes. Your heart races, a bead of sweat trickling down your temple.

At the door, Aemond stands, observing silently. But soon enough, you catch his presence, tilting your head to see him. He's clad only in loose black shorts and white high-top socks, his black hair wet and dripping, his shoulders still marked with black, suggesting he's just finished dying it. The drops of water on him tell a story of their own. His pupils, dilated, nearly obscure the icy blue of his eyes, and his shoulders are relaxed, hinting the bath had been beneficial. Whether that's a good sign or not remains to be seen.

"Didn't you wait for me to start?" His voice carries that familiar low tone as he nods his chin toward the remaining coke on the table.

A mischievous smile curls your lips, and with a nonchalant shrug, you acknowledge his comment. It's not like the supply is dwindling; you have more than enough, stockpiling for both use and sale, probably more than you should use. Either way, he won't go without.

"Not very nice of you, sis." His tone could almost be called playful if it weren't Aemond speaking, and humor was the last attribute you'd attribute to him.

With deliberate, slow steps, as if he intends for every part of the room to sense his presence, Aemond approaches, and there's this glint in his eyes that you've never been able to fully describe. From childhood to now, it's been there—those dilated pupils, intense, his gaze almost vacant, like he's not fully there. It can seem manic, sending a chill through you under certain lights. It's a trait of his that has barely changed.

He stops at the edge of your chair, pausing for a moment. His thumb delicately brushes your nostril, wiping away the residual powder with an unexpected tenderness that seems foreign to him. Then, with an even slower pace, he kneels before you, between your legs. His hands glide down your sides, gripping your hips firmly, pulling you forward with a force that brings you to the chair's edge, compelling you to grab the backrest to keep from falling off completely.

"If you step out of line," he murmured, his gaze lifting to meet yours. One of his hands maneuvered your thigh onto his shoulder, positioning himself closer to your core. "You know I'm going to kill you, right?" The words were sweet, calm, but their sincerity was unmistakable. He would do it, and he could do it so effortlessly.

You nod, swallowing hard, not out of fear—oh, you wished it was fear—but it was heat, excitement, adrenaline, like sugar melting directly into your veins, ready to roll your eyes back in ecstasy.

"Yeah, you know," he whispered again, his breath hot against your panty-covered intimacy. "That's a good girl." His hands then traced down your thighs, exploring every inch of skin and hair as if they were part of a map he was memorizing.

You watch him intently, the cocaine still racing through your veins, making your heart pound and every nerve tingle. He reaches for the table, picking up the small pin with the remaining coke, and brings it close. With precision, he drops some on your inner thigh, using his pinky to form a line that leads directly to your pussy. He's always so calculated, so infuriatingly in control, it makes you want to tear your hair out.

Leaning in, he covers one nostril, then inhales, sliding forward until he's taken the coke from one end to the other, his lips meeting your panty-covered intimacy at the end. His pulse quickens with the drug's effect. The bitterness of the cocaine mixes with the sweet seepage of your arousal through the fabric. His lips, eager to claim ownership, find your taste more intoxicating than any drug. He swears your pussy is the ultimate narcotic, the only one that can truly bring him down, flowing through his veins smoother than heroin. It's a fucking god.

His tongue slides over your intimacy, and your hands grip the chair and table tightly. You know not to touch his hair; if you did, all hell would break loose. So you cling to the furniture, seeking some semblance of control. His lips savor you like you're the ripest, sweetest fruit, his tongue swirling, gathering saliva which then drips down your panties, blending with your own arousal. He makes you clench and clench, craving more without pause.

"Fuck," you moan, head thrown back, the fabric around your waist now feeling like an intolerable barrier. "You are so good, so good." The words spill out, not so much thought as they are a direct translation of the sensations coursing through you. In that moment, he felt so good.

His teeth graze your skin lightly, perhaps in response. His grip on your thighs tightens, leaving marks that would soon purple, claiming you as his. Again, and again. His hands travel up, fingers hooking into your panties, dragging them down your thighs, discarding the now-soaked fabric. When his gaze returns, it's to the sight of your pulsing, glistening flesh, the taste of you already imprinted on his tongue. It's the part of you he adores most, the most exquisite fuck he could never tire of. He feels like if his lips were bound, he'd chew through the ropes just to taste and devour you completely.

"You're so fucking beautiful." His thumb traces through your folds, finding your clit, the soft sound you make in response making him bite his lip hard enough to nearly break skin.

Leaning in, he first presses his nose against your clit, inhaling your scent like it's something sacred. He slides down, breathing you in. His tongue, slick with saliva, extends, slowly tracing from your entrance up to your clit, his eyes lifting to lock with yours, watching your reaction unfold. Your lips part in ecstasy, your eyes locked on his, painting a scene of paradise right before him. The warmth spreading through his body feels like floating on clouds.

"Such a good pussy." His voice is muffled by your heat, the vibrations echoing inside you like he's already within.

His lips work with such intensity that it sends a sharp ache through your core. He explores every inch, tongue rolling over every detail, collecting your taste, swallowing eagerly. His nose glides along, then his chin rubs against you, moving his head side to side, letting your arousal paint even his cheeks. He devours your pussy, and with every gush of your wetness, a moan escapes him. Your hands clutch the chair, almost breaking the wood in your grip, the pleasure coursing through you, as slick as your insides now feel.

Pulling away from your heat, he rises to your lips, sharing your taste. His hands find the back of your knees, lifting you effortlessly from the chair, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. You feel his hardness through his shorts, throbbing against you. With quick steps, he moves to the bed, sitting and pulling you onto his lap. Your tongues dance in a deep, wet kiss, the sounds unrestrained.

As he lies back, you follow, his hands urgently gripping your hips, pulling your thighs, trying to coax you higher, towards his face. He needs this, craves it more than air itself.

"Ride my fucking face," he demands, his breath heavy against your lips, breaking the kiss only to speak.

Encouraged, you move up the bed until your knees straddle his face. His hands swiftly guide you down, his face fully enveloped by your heat. His tongue plunges deep, while your hips begin to rock in rhythm. The heat is overwhelming; you yank off your shirt, revealing your breasts, nipples hard and waiting. His eyes catch the sight, his brows knitting together, a needy sound muffled by your pussy.

His hands travel up your stomach, fingertips tracing your ribs, causing your body to shiver, before reaching your nipples. He pinches them between his fingers, making you grind down onto his face with more force. Your hands cover his, urging him to tighten his grip, and he complies. He momentarily pauses to bring his fingers to your lips, allowing you to lick them one by one, then returns them, now wet, to your nipples, teasing and pinching the hardened peaks.

"Oh fuck, I'm going to cum, Em," you gasp, arching back, your hips grinding with a desperate speed, your nails digging into his forearms as he flicks his thumb over your nipples, mirroring the delicious torment on your clit.

He nods, his chin tilting to drive his tongue deeper. Your walls clamp around him, your movements faltering as your thighs weaken. You look down just in time to see him suck on your clit with renewed vigor, his teeth grazing it, pushing you over the edge. A raw scream tears from your throat, and you clutch the headboard to keep from collapsing forward. And he licks you, thoroughly, consuming every drop of your release.

Your body, now pliable and exhausted, allowed him to easily slide out from under you, lifting you just enough for his head to escape. You collapse back into a sitting position, your back still trembling, mouth open in a silent moan. Then, your ankles are seized, pulling you across the sheets until you're lying flat on your stomach, your thighs shaking and weak.

"You're such a dirty slut, aren't you?" His voice comes from behind, his hand tracing down your soaked inner thighs. "Such a good little slut." The words are punctuated by a sharp slap on your ass, the impact nearly twisting your body.

He observes the quivering form you've become, the fingerprints on your skin already starting to mark you. You look so beautiful, post-orgasm, with your essence still dripping from you, ready for him to drive you into oblivion. His hand dips into his shorts, freeing his throbbing cock. Looking down, he spits on it, using his fingers to spread the saliva along its length.

"Are you going to scream for me, sis?" he murmurs with a hint of malevolence. He steps forward, spreading your legs and teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, watching you writhe. "Scream on my dick, scream. Do it for me, hm?" He bites his lip, savoring how your entrance clenches around his tip.

He thrusts just the head in again, watching you squirm before pulling back, using one fist to brace himself on the bed and the other to hold his cock steady. He teases you, inserting only the tip, making you moan and arch back, trying to take more, but he keeps it shallow. His eyes are glazed with desire as he watches you clench around him, your body begging for more.

"Please what, little dove?" he nearly spits out, pushing in a bit more before withdrawing again, leaving you empty, tight, and craving more.

Your hips sway side to side, arching off the bed in pursuit of him. You feel him enter you once more, his soft moans barely audible, just for you, and damn, how that makes you even wetter, soaking the sheet that's all too familiar with your scent and taste.

"Please fuck me," you whisper, turning to look over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his in what feels like a challenge.

It was like you'd just slapped him across the face with your words. Without a moment's hesitation, Aemond thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt, the hair at his pelvis meeting your ass. His hands dig into your flesh, gripping tight as he begins to pound into you, each thrust deeper and harder, his balls smacking against your drenched clit with every impact. His gaze drops to watch his cock disappear into you over and over, your arousal glistening on him, spreading to his lower abdomen. Your screams fill the room as your body rocks with each movement. The sensation is so intense, so overwhelmingly good, he feels like he wants to drive his cock right through you, straight into your skull.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, seizing your hair with one hand, pulling it back to whisper close to your ear as he leans over you. "You can barely take me, can you? I'm going to draw blood from that tight little cunt of yours, like always." With that, he thrusts even deeper, eliciting a choked scream from you.

Your body shakes under his relentless thrusts. Your eyes are half-closed, tears at the corners; your feet lift, toes curling, saliva escaping from the corners of your mouth onto the pillow. The deep penetration is overwhelming. His gaze confirms the mix of blood with your arousal around his cock, spurring him to thrust in completely, grinding deep inside you, feeling your walls contract around him with fierce intensity.

"You look so pathetic like this, just a hole to use." He releases your hair abruptly, his hands returning to your hips, nails digging in.

With his last ounce of strength, he pulls your hips back, lifting them, positioning you on your knees. You attempt to prop yourself up with your hands, but there's no strength left, so you remain with your cheek pressed to the mattress. From this new angle, he can penetrate even deeper, turning your screams into whimpers of excruciating pleasure mixed with pain, your arousal now dripping down both your thighs.

"No, no..." you whisper, barely audible amidst your whimpers. "Fuck..." Your voice fades as your mouth hangs open, drooling onto the pillow, your fingers clutching the sheets.

"Yeah, I know, I know," Aemond replies, a small, genuine smile curling the corners of his lips. "Cum for me, cum nice and sweet for me." His hand comes down, delivering a sharp slap directly onto your clit.

Your hips instinctively try to escape, but he secures you with an arm around your waist, keeping you still, taking all he gives like the good girl he knows you are. He spits into his free hand, then returns it to your heat, circling and stimulating your clit, squeezing and flicking it, feeling it pulse under his harsh touch. Your walls constrict around him, signaling how close you are.

"Aemond, Aemond..." you try to warn, but the sensation overwhelms you before you can finish.

Your walls clamp down, a loud moan breaking free from your lips as your body convulses, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. Aemond's eyes roll back, the sensation of you gripping him so tightly driving him over the edge. A growl escapes him, more beast than man, as he wraps both arms around your waist, pressing his cheek to your back. He thrusts deep one final time, holding you there, ensuring every last drop of his release is spent inside you until you're left utterly spent. His cock pulses within you, matching the rhythm of your own spasms.

Your body collapses forward, and he follows, bracing himself so as not to crush you. He observes your closed eyes, your body sliding into what looks like a deep, heavy sleep. He loves you like this—silent, immobile, utterly vulnerable. The thought of your helplessness reignites his arousal, despite himself.

With a sigh, he withdraws from you, flopping onto the bed beside you. The room reeks of sex, mingled with the remnants of cocaine still in his nostrils and your taste, seared into his memory. You don't move, just manage to close your mouth with effort, your jaw sore. You don't anticipate tenderness or kisses; you know better than that. Silence fills the space, punctuated only by the sound of your breathing.

"What did you did with the girl?" you hear yourself asking, despite knowing better. Maybe you want to know, or maybe it's just the impulse of the moment.

"It's none of your fucking business," comes the expected, sharp reply. "Shut up and go to sleep." His tone leaves no room for further discussion. After moments like these, he's never in the mood for conversation, unwilling to soften because you've drained him with that perfect pussy.

He turns his back to you, lying on his side, and silence envelops you both. He doesn't want to talk, doesn't want interaction. He doesn't even want to hear your voice right now. Because, fuck, how much he truly craves all of that.

#moder aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #x reader #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #aemond #fanfic #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #smut #dead dove do not eat #prince aemond #martin in the modern world #aemond one eye #modern #modern aemond x reader #dead dove fic

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eu-nicola · 3 months ago

Text

never enough

summary: Rafe and you share a connection that has always bordered the line between friendship and something deeper. Despite knowing that loving him is a game of risks, you cling to the intensity of his company. Rafe makes you feel alive, even when his love arrives with scars.

warnings: idk

word counter: 2862

author's note: english is not my first language

tags: @rafegf-real

The sun was streaming through the curtains in the room, illuminating the messy edges of your bed. It was a new day on the Outer Banks, but there was something different about the air, something you could only describe as a whisper of what has always been between you. You and Rafe Cameron.

For as long as you can remember, Rafe has been a constant in your life. You were no stranger to his fame on the island: the troubled boy, the son of the powerful Ward Cameron. But, to you, he had always been something more. There was a complexity to him that few bothered to see, an invisible pull that always brought you back to his side, even when you knew you shouldn’t.

That morning, your phone vibrated on the nightstand. Rafe’s name flashed on the screen, a reminder that even when you tried to keep some distance, he always found a way to get past your defenses.

“Breakfast at the dock?”

It was his usual way of starting the day with you, as if you both didn't have a history full of moments that neither of you wanted to name. Moments like the time when, after one of his most intense arguments with his father, he appeared at your window at midnight, seeking comfort. Or that time when his hands lingered a little longer on your waist while you were dancing at one of the many parties on the island. Neither of you mentioned it afterwards, but the weight of what was left unsaid always lingered.

You arrived at the port, and there he was, leaning against his motorcycle, with that arrogant smile that only he could effortlessly sport. Your steps slowed down, but your eyes couldn't help but search for his. There was always something in his gaze, a sparkle that he only reserved for you.

"I thought you weren't coming," he said, although you both knew that you always came when he called.

"And letting you have breakfast alone, who would you take it out on then?" you answered, trying to keep the lightness in your tone.

He laughed, that kind of laugh that felt like an escape, and walked over to you. There was something about the way he closed the distance between you that always made you hold your breath. There was nothing particularly romantic about that gesture, and yet, every time he did it, you felt like the world became a little bit smaller, leaving room for just the two of you.

“Come on,” he said, taking your arm with a familiarity that bordered on intimacy.

Breakfast was like any other, filled with jokes and sarcastic remarks.

After breakfast, the two of you headed to his bike. As you climbed onto the back of his bike, the familiarity of the contact with his back hit you. There was something addictive about the feeling of being so close to him, the engine roaring beneath you, the wind blowing away any rational thought. You gripped his shirt tighter than necessary, as if that could keep you anchored in a world where he wasn’t always a storm.

Rafe led you to a secluded path near the beach, a place you had both frequented since you were kids. No one would find you there, which made it perfect for those moments when neither of you wanted to face the rest of the world.

Upon arriving, he got off the bike and leaned against a large rock, lighting a cigarette. You watched as the smoke rose in spirals, his sharp features bathed in sunlight.

“You know being with me isn’t going to get you anywhere good, right?” he said suddenly, his tone low, almost a whisper.

You stepped closer, crossing your arms as you looked at him. You knew there was truth in his words. Loving him was like walking a razor’s edge; one wrong step and everything could fall apart. But you also knew that the intensity of his love, of his presence, made you feel alive like nothing else.

“I know,” you finally admitted, your voice firm. “But I also know that I prefer that to a life without feeling. And you… you make me feel.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, it was like time stood still. There was a weight in his gaze, a mix of desire, pain, and something deeper that he’d never been able to put into words.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I do anyway,” he said, throwing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his foot.

You moved closer, your body now just inches from his. You could feel the tension in the air, the electricity that always seemed to exist between you. You lifted a hand and placed it gently on his cheek, forcing him to look at you closely.

“We all have scars, Rafe. Mine don’t scare me,” you whispered. “But I don’t want you to keep running away from what we feel.”

His lips curved into a half smile, though his eyes were still filled with uncertainty. Rafe had always been good at hiding his emotions, but with you, it was different. You could see the cracks in his facade, and every time you did, you found yourself wishing you were the one to save him, even though you knew he didn’t want to be saved.

Suddenly, his hand moved to your waist, pulling you towards him. His fingers pressed lightly against your skin, and for a second, everything else stopped mattering. Rafe looked down at your lips, as if he was weighing whether to cross that line once more.

“You’re too good for me,” he murmured, his voice husky.

“I don’t care,” you replied without hesitation.

And then, as if finally giving in, he leaned his head down and kissed you. It wasn’t a soft, delicate kiss; it was a clash of pent-up emotions, of desire and desperation. His lips were insistent, almost possessive, as if he wanted to mark you, to make sure you knew what you meant to him, even if he could never put it into words.

Your hands found his hair, tugging lightly as his arms wrapped around you tighter. Everything about him was intensity, as if he wanted to absorb every part of you in that moment. But there was also a vulnerability in the way he held you, as if he was afraid you would pull away.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. Rafe rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if trying to hold on to the moment.

“This is what scares me,” he admitted in a whisper. “I don’t know how to not screw this up.”

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you again.

“You don’t have to be perfect, Rafe. You just have to be you. And I’ll be here, even when things get tough.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought that maybe, just maybe, this scarred love might be worth it. Because, despite everything, Rafe Cameron made you feel alive, and that was a risk you were willing to take again and again.

There was something in the air when you were with Rafe. A raw, intense energy that made you feel more alive than anything else had ever managed. When you were with him, every emotion was amplified; every brush of his skin against yours ignited a fire that consumed you completely. But that love, so fierce and visceral, also came with scars.

That night, he had come home late, stumbling slightly, his eyes red and a trace of regret marked in every line of his face. You knew what was coming before he even opened his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stopping in the doorway of your room.

His words were familiar, as were the promises that accompanied them. “I’m sorry” was always followed by his need to fix it, to make you feel like you still loved him, despite everything. You looked up at him, your eyes filled with mixed emotions. You had cried before he arrived, silent tears at the way he always found a way to hurt you, whether it was with sharp words or the shadows of other women. And yet, there he was, begging you to forgive him.

“Why do you always come back here?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Why do you come back to me, Rafe?”

He didn’t answer right away. He took a step toward you, his gaze catching yours, as if he were looking for a way to explain something that even he didn’t fully understand. Finally, he said,

“Because you’re the only thing that makes me feel real.”

Your chest tightened at those words, that naked confession he would never make to anyone else. And you knew, with every fiber of your being, that it was true. No matter how much he ran away, no matter how much he sought comfort in others, he always ended up coming back to you, as if you were his only refuge in a world that he himself had turned into chaos.

He moved closer slowly, his shaking hands finding yours.

“I know I hurt you,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to love you without scarring you.”

His words were like a knife, but also a promise. There was something about his vulnerability that completely disarmed you. You felt each of his flaws, his mistakes, like a shared burden. But you also knew that, despite the pain, you couldn’t walk away from him. Rafe was both your storm and your refuge. A love that lifted you up and consumed you at the same time.

“I don’t hate you for what you do,” you finally said, your voice firm though your eyes shone with unshed tears. “I hate you for how you make me feel, even after everything.”

Rafe lowered his head, his lips brushing the back of your hand with a tenderness that seemed almost impossible for someone like him.

“Let me fix it,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Let me prove to you that I’m still worthy of you.”

Your breathing quickened as his hands moved to your waist, gently pulling you towards him. You felt the urgency in his touch, the desperation of a man who feared losing the only thing that gave his life meaning.

“Rafe…” you murmured, but your words were caught in your throat as his lips found yours.

The kiss was anything but gentle. It was a storm, a hurricane of emotions that left you breathless. His mouth moved against yours with an almost desperate intensity, as if he wanted to etch you into his skin, to make sure you knew how much he needed you. Your hands found his hair, tugging lightly as he pressed you against the wall, his body enveloping you in searing heat.

Every touch, every kiss, was a mix of love and penance. Rafe knew he had crossed boundaries, that he had hurt your heart in ways that might never fully heal. But he also knew that, in moments like this, he could redeem himself, at least for a while. And you, despite everything, let him.

His hands slid down your back, caressing your skin with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity of his kisses. He lifted you slightly, whispering your name as if it were a mantra, as if that could repair every crack he had caused. And in those moments, when both of you were wrapped in the purest intimacy, all the pain, all the scars, temporarily faded.

Rafe loved you with the same intensity with which he consumed you, and although you knew it was a dangerous love, you couldn't help but surrender to him. Because, despite the scars, he made you feel alive. And in a world full of shadows, that spark was all you needed to keep going.

Weeks passed, and though each night Rafe slipped by your window felt like a new beginning, the cycle never changed. During the day, he was the same again: the boy who moved from girl to girl, who sought in others what, deep down, he knew only you could give him. You saw him at parties, his arm around some new conquest, and you felt a part of you break every time his eyes didn’t seek you out in the crowd.

But he always came back. At the end of the day, when the world was dark and silent, it was your name he whispered, your window he knocked softly. And you, despite the pain, always let him in.

That day, after one of those parties where you’d seen him with another girl, something inside you finally gave in. You were in your room, the dim light from the nightstand illuminating the space as you sat on the bed, your hands shaking with frustration and sadness. You didn’t want to open the door for him this time. You wanted to scream, to break something, to make him understand how much it hurt you.

But when you heard the knock on the window, your body reacted before your mind. You walked over to it, your steps slow and heavy. When you opened it, Rafe was standing there, his hair messy and his eyes downcast. There was a trace of guilt in his expression, but also something deeper, something you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You didn’t say anything, just stepped aside. He walked in and stood there, looking at you as if trying to find the right words. But there were no words that could fix what you were feeling right now.

“I can’t go on like this,” you finally said, your voice cracking.

Rafe looked up, surprised by the harshness in your tone.

“I’m tired, Rafe. Tired of being your refuge when the world turns its back on you. Tired of seeing you with others and pretending I don’t care. Tired of loving you more than you love me.”

Tears began to roll down your cheeks, and this time you didn’t try to stop them.

“I want you to love me, Rafe. I want you to need me, not just in your worst moments, but always.”

Rafe took a step toward you, but you held up a hand, stopping him.

“I’m broken, Rafe. Every time you leave, you leave a part of me behind.” And I don’t know how much more I can take.

For a moment, silence filled the room. Then Rafe slowly approached, ignoring your raised hand. His eyes were filled with something you hadn’t seen before: fear.

“I need you,” he said, his voice shaking. “I need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone.”

His words hit you hard, but they didn’t stop hurting.

“It doesn’t seem like it, Rafe. Every time I see you with someone else, I wonder if I’m enough for you.”

Rafe shook his head, his hands finding yours with desperate urgency.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice firmer. “There’s not going to be a time in my life when I don’t need you. You’re my constant, my only refuge when everything else falls apart.”

His words made your tears flow harder, but this time you didn’t stop them. Rafe pulled you to him, enveloping you in a hug that was both comforting and heartbreaking. You could feel him trembling, his own eyes wet as he rested his forehead against yours.

“I know I hurt you,” he admitted quietly. “I know I’m a mess and you deserve better. But I can’t imagine my life without you.”

You clung to him, your hands gripping his shirt tightly. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to think that this time it would be different. But the pain was still there, a constant reminder of the wounds he had left behind.

“I don’t want to be your refuge if you can’t be mine too,” you whispered.

Rafe nodded slowly, as if he understood the magnitude of your words.

“I want to be. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove to you that I can be.”

Silence filled the room again, but this time, it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was a silence filled with unspoken promises, with hopes that you both knew would be hard to keep.

That night, when Rafe kissed you, it was different. It wasn’t the kiss of someone seeking comfort, but of someone willing to fight for what really mattered. And as his lips moved against yours, a small spark of hope began to burn in your heart.

Maybe this time, the scars could start to heal.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader

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melzula · 11 months ago

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Ok hear me out. Reader and Zuko go on a run for supplies .Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Zuko gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Zuko later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

a/n: ty for requesting and hope you enjoy anon !

summary: zuko apologizes and receives something in return

What was meant to be a simple trip into town for supplies had quickly turned into a disaster, and Zuko believed it was your recklessness to blame.

You’d been too preoccupied in admiring a local merchant’s vast collection of sea shells to notice the Fire Nation soldier creeping up behind you, and if not for Zuko shoving you out of the way to take on the man himself you surely would have been burnt alive. Your failure to stay aware of your surroundings and lackadaisical attitude had almost gotten you killed, and the Prince made sure to point this out to you afterward.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” He scolds you after dragging you out of the marketplace by the arm and back towards camp.

“I was looking at shells, actually, before you so rudely interrupted,” you correct with an impatient roll of your eyes, but the act only seems to annoy him further.

“This isn’t a game, y/n! We didn’t come here to mess around, we came to quickly get more food and go, and we couldn’t even do that because you were too busy looking at stupid shells to notice your surroundings! You could have been hurt or worse!”

“Relax, ‘your highness,’” you dismiss him defensively, harshly yanking your arm away from his grasp. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dead. I’m fine. You need to stop overreacting and leave me alone!”

Zuko watches with a scowl as you stomp away from him and towards your tent, ignoring the quizzical looks your friends send your way as you shut the flaps closed.

“What’s her problem?” Toph asks with a raised brow from her spot beside the campfire.

“What did you do?” Katara snaps at the boy with an accusatory glare.

“I didn’t do anything!” Zuko exclaims defensively. “As a matter of fact, I just saved her life and now she’s mad at me!”

“Saved her life? What happened out there?” Aang questions with a worried frown. “Was anyone hurt?”

“A Fire Nation soldier snuck up on her while she was distracted and was about to strike before I pushed y/n out of the way and fought him myself.”

“So… what you’re saying is you guys didn’t get any food?” Sokka notes dejectedly only to receive a scolding smack upside the head from his sister.

“If you saved her life, then why is she so upset?”

“I may have been a bit harsh with her after,” Zuko admits reluctantly, awkwardly grasping at the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to snap at her, but I was just frustrated that she wasn’t taking her own safety seriously.”

“Look, that’s just how y/n is sometimes. She’s too trusting of her surroundings sometimes, but you have to gently remind her to be careful,” Sokka explains to his friend. “Maybe if you hadn’t yelled at her she would have taken you seriously.”

“Just give her some time to cool off and apologize later,” Katara advises the fire bender. “She just needs her space.”

Frustrated, Zuko lets out a long sigh before ultimately relenting. Katara is right. He just needs to give you some space to process before bothering you again.

By nightfall the moon has risen in the sky and the rest of your group has called it a day, retreating to their tents to sleep and rest for whatever tomorrow may bring. You still haven’t set foot out of yours since Zuko yelled at you, and the Prince has spent the better half of his day groveling outside waiting for you to emerge. He’s beginning to grow impatient, but he’s also extremely worried. You missed dinner, and no one has been able to get you to come out.

Deciding enough is enough, Zuko takes it upon himself to barge into your tent and check on you. Better you be mad at him for invading your space without permission than for something to be wrong with you without anyone knowing.

When he enters your tent the last thing he expects to find is your figure curled up in your sleeping bag crying. Your body trembles under the blankets and your quiet sniffles are the only sound in the space. If you notice his presence you don’t acknowledge it, and Zuko hesitates before carefully sitting himself beside you.

“Y/n?” He calls out softly, gently pulling the covers back to get a look at your face. Water marks line across your cheeks from tears that had managed to dry off your skin, and it takes you a moment to finally meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry for making you mad,” you whisper meekly, voice cracking with effort after hours of minimal use.

“No, you don’t have to apologize. I should be apologizing for how I acted,” he assures you sincerely, carefully wiping away your remaining tears. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was just worried about your safety- I’m not sure what I would have done if something bad had happened to you.”

“You really mean that?” You sniffle, looking up at him with doubt clear in your eyes.

“Of course I do. I know it probably didn’t seem that way when I was yelling at you, but I’ve come to care a lot for you, and I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

“I didn’t know…” you murmur quietly as you carefully sit up from your sleeping bag to reach eye level with the Prince. “I always figured you just saw me as some annoying girl you had to babysit.”

“Well, maybe at first,” he admits with a sheepish chuckle only to immediately stop when he catches your unamused glare, “but now I look forward to being sent to the market with you. I enjoy your company even if it means having to be more vigilant of our surroundings on your behalf. Can you just promise me that next time you’ll be a little more careful?”

“I promise,” you nod earnestly and, much to Zuko’s surprise, pull him in for a tight hug. He stiffens at first, unsure how to react to the close contact, but eventually he’s able to allow himself a chance to enjoy your warmth and reciprocate your embrace.

Only you could have the grumpy Prince wrapped so tightly around your finger.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy

#melzula writes #request #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #aang #toph #katara #sokka #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender

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sincerelyneo · 11 months ago

Note

omg hello! i missed you so much!!! 💖 would you consider reposting arcade again?? it was legit the best thing i’ve ever read omg i was so sad when i couldnt find it anymore

its fine if you cant tho!! im glad youre backkkk💖💖💖

ofc i can, i’m glad you liked it <3

arcade | p.js

“i’m out of control, full power up”

💿now playing: arcade by nct dream

❯ summary: Jisung’s been nothing but busy lately, so when you hear he got the weekend of your anniversary off, you can’t help but plan something to spend time with him. Expect, the only thing jisung wants after his busy month is you — and he’s not gonna let your silly arcade date get in the way of that.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, fluffish.

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, fingering, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, use of the name baby, jisung takes pictures whilst fingering reader in a photobooth idk???

"You brought us to an arcade for our three year anniversary?"

You look over to Jisung standing by your side as the pair of you stood in front of the arcade entryway with the giant neon sign above your heads.

"Yeah, surprise - who doesn't love a date night with pizza and an arcade?" You grin, trying to hide the look of nervousness fighting to show once you notice his frown.

“Baby,” he groans, whiny, “I thought we were gonna go home after the pizza.”

You may have lied to him about that.

When you told Jisung about tonight’s date, he originally objected. He wanted to have a chilled night in with just the two of you — alone. Something he hadn’t had for the past four weeks he’d been strung up at work. Yet, you insisted that the two of you celebrated your three year anniversary just like you had done for your first and second.

So instead, the two of you came up with a compromise: head to your favourite pizza place, then come home and watch a movie snuggled together on the couch. In Jisung’s mind ‘watch a movie’ was code for letting his hands roam all over your body whilst he watched you whither and squirm, but he figured it was best to not discuss the minute details.

But don’t get him wrong. Just because he wanted to have a quiet night in didn't mean he hasn’t missed you — because oh he has. He’s only bothered the rest of the dreamies with his annual ‘I miss her’ speech every other hour.

And whilst typically Jisung loved to spend every passing minute of the day with you; right now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to be balls deep in the cunt he’d missed so much — not spending his time in some arcade.

"I haven't been inside one of these since I was a little kid," you tell him. “Please Sungie, just for an hour.” You begin tugging on his hands.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing in the arcade?” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Pretty please!”

You hope the small flutter in your eyelashes is enough to win over the hesitant man. And you know it will because he’s told you several times not to give him those signature doe eyes, because he can’t ever bring himself to say no to them.

"Fine."

He grasps your hand, threading your fingers together as he starts to lead the two of you inside. You're instantly greeted with the loud electronic sound effects from the various games, along with the random music playing inside.

There's lights flashing everywhere, and you notice a bunch of people sitting at the bar and in booths near the front of the arcade, along with a bunch wandering around all of the games.

Jisung looks sideways before gesturing his head to the row of retro games, "what do you wanna play?" He asks.

“You can pick first, because I’m such a good girlfriend.”

He can’t help but smile at you — because he knows you're right.

“How about we play some pinball?

"I take it back," you say with a pointed look, "I’ve seen you play that with Chenle and I’m definitely gonna lose.”

“Too late, you’ve already given me the power,” he shrugs and pulls your arm over to where the game is situated.

“Ugh, Jisung. There’s no point, I already know I’m gonna lose,” you try to protest.

“Stop complaining,” he grasps your hips to turn you around to face the pinball machine then comes to stand behind you.

He takes your hands and places them on the buttons either side of the machine in front of you. You feel your cheeks flush when you feel Jisung’s chin rest on your shoulder, as he guides your fingers over the controls and silently coaches you through the game.

You don’t know how he always does it but even here, he's managing to create some form of sexual tension between the two of you at a pinball machine.

“Jisung..” you whisper as he places teasing kisses along your neck.

“Shhh, I’m just trying to help you out,” his lips brush against your neck as he continues hitting the buttons at a constant steady speed. “Besides, I think I’ve found my new favourite way to play pinball tonight."

Eventually, the ball shoots straight down between the two flippers, drawing the game to an end. He’d been doing so well that you wanted to turn around and kiss him but he pressed you harder against the machine, dipping into the crook of your neck to tease your ear.

"You've got no idea how badly I wish I could bend you over this and fuck you right here, right now."

It sent shivers down your whole body as you felt him grin against your skin when he noticed the sharp inhale of air you sucked in at his words.

Jisung knows you're shy, so he’s not surprised that you try to snake away from his grip at his crude remark.

"Look, we got a new high score," he says while he slips his hands from over yours and slides them up your arms. Pretending he didn't just whisper something that dirty. “We make a pretty good team.”

“Yeah ‘cause you did all the work,” you sulk.

You see the red digital writing flashing on the scoreboard, then his arms snake around to link across your lower stomach and pull you firmer against him. To anyone watching you look like a typical couple being affectionate, but the tension makes it feel the furthest thing from innocent.

"You know exactly what you're doing right now, Jisung Park," you huff, trying to control how flustered you feel, "We’re here to play games."

He presses a kiss to your cheek, before murmuring, "I am playing games. And so far I think I'm winning."

As he speaks he lets one of his hands slip down to graze over the front of your crotch, which he swears is an accident when you sternly say his name. But you can’t deny the way the touch made you jolt before he pulls away and steps back. You’d missed his touch — missed being with him like this.

But this was not the place. So you take his hand and turn the two of you to walk off like nothing happened.

The two of you continued to play a handful of arcade games. The classics, retro games, new games — Jisung had even managed to secure you a fluffy teddy bear from the claw game after you mentioned it being ‘impossible’.

You’d been taking it in turns to choose a game each, but when you mentioned the arcade photo booth, your boyfriend had started to get apprehensive.

After some of your amazing buttering up skills with puppy dog eyes, he agreed and he pulled the curtain back for you to get inside, then closes the door on the booth.

He sat down first on the small seat, and when you went to sit next to him he grabbed your waist and pulled you down onto his lap instead. He takes some coins from his pocket and starts putting them in the slot.

You try to get off his lap to sit beside him before the timer starts but he doesn’t let you.

“Just look at the camera and smile."

Once you hear the timer counting down the two of you start posing. But just before the last beep sounds, you get the idea to grab hold of Jisung’s face and let your lips mush against his cheek causing him to scrunch his nose up.

"That’s not fair," he says the second he hears the beeping start again.You stick your tongue out at him and his eyes narrow. “Fine, if that’s the game we’re playing.”

You both look back at the camera and offer smiles, kisses and peace signs. But at the last beep, Jisung gets the idea to move both of his hands to cup over your chest, groping your boobs.

Your mouth falls open as you gasp in shock while Jisung starts laughing.

You try to pull his hands away, "Okay fine, point taken mister grabby hands."

Jisung is practically giggling to himself, whilst you wait for the timer to start again.

“Alright alright, we'll take a serious one now.” He says, placing his chin on your shoulder, as you both look at the camera.

But once again, as the third beeping starts he quickly says, “Do you think people would notice if I made you cum while we're in here?"

Your body stiffens in shock as the picture is taken. Jisung is bursting with laughter and you're taken aback.

Jisung likes sex. He loves sex in fact — especially with you. But he never does this. Sure he teases you when you're out and about — how could he not when you’re so beautiful and perfect for him. But he’s never insinuated doing something so sexual in public like this before.

But here the two of you are. Waiting for the timer to start again, but this time you’re anticipating the shit he was going to pull when the final beep comes — and he does not disappoint. Because his hands slide up your legs, dipping into your inner thighs and squeezing them.

"Jisung," you warn him, "behave yourself."

The beeping starts again, but Jisung doesn't move his hands, and starts to massage his fingers higher.

When the last tick happens, he moves his face to press a kiss to your jaw, and you feel his breath hitting your skin from his nose.

He starts to inch your legs a bit further apart to let his thumbs graze over the crease where your thighs meet your pelvis.

“Ive missed you so fucking much baby,” he whines. “I need you so bad.”

“Jisung not here,” you sigh as his hands start working to warm up your skin.

“Why not? Wouldn’t you like the thought of me getting you off in here? Trying not to get caught?"

If his face wasn't so close to yours you wouldn't be able to hear him over the loud music in the arcade and how low his voice has gotten.

You give him a confused frown, thinking he surely can't be fucking serious but when you do he takes the opportunity to press his lips against you, kissing you while the camera snaps the last picture.

Your stomach is knotting along with your heart beating faster and you feel that familiar heat between your legs but you’d never tell him that — and he’d never tell you that he knows you keep it from him.

"Would you?" He asks again when he breaks the kiss.

You look at him like he's lost his mind. "You're joking right?" You can't be serious - Jisung people get their pictures taken in here, someone could walk in, you can't-"

He makes your words stop and your breath hitch in your throat as he moves his hand up under your skirt and cups his hand between your legs.

"That's not what I asked you," he says letting his eyes trace over your face, then leans closer, "Would you enjoy it?"

“Jisung, this is so unlike you, are you even hearing what you’re asking me?”

He moves his leg a bit and wedges his heel against the edge of the door so it can't be pulled open, "I know exactly what I’m asking you, so answer me."

"We’re supposed to be taking pictures, Sung,” you try changing the subject, and ignore the pressure of his hand pressed against you.

"Oh god we will," he says like it should be obvious.

And now you’re looking even more caught off guard.

“I'd fucking kill to have some pictures of you getting off. Have them to look at them whenever I’m needy and miss you.”

Jisung starts to massage the heel of his palm very slowly against you, adding more pressure over your underwear as you try to squeeze your legs closed but he holds them with his other hand to keep them apart.

"We can't-" it takes very fibre in your body to attempt to protest this, but you easily allow him to cut you off.

"Yes we fucking can," he has that sly look on his face, "But if you don't want to, we won't. It's up to you. Should I stop?"

You exhale a weak breath as he replaces the heel of his palm with his fingers dancing over your underwear, massaging slow circles that make your hips shift.

"Won’t people think it's weird if we're in here too long." you fumble over your words which makes Jisung smile while he bites on his lip.

"Don't worry I'll be quick," he says knowing you’re only making excuses instead of admitting what you really want.

Your eyes drift closed as you sigh, feeling his fingers move against you to create a friction that's only making the throb between your legs worsen. You have absolutely no common sense when it comes to this man and his fucking fingers.

"Should I stop?" He repeats in a low voice, moving his mouth to start to kiss along your jaw.

As usual with him, your functioning brain checks out while your subconscious takes over and you shake your head feeling your breathing start to go shallow.

"You want me to make you cum, yeah? Is that right baby?" His words are slightly muffled as he moves his free hand from your inner thigh and brushes your hair back over your shoulder so he can move his mouth to your neck, "I need words baby."

You should be rational and tell him to stop. But you don't. You wouldn’t dare. You didn’t want him to. So instead you say what you do want, and breathe out a quiet "yes."

Jisung’s own breathing is getting heavier, and the tension in this small enclosed space feels like it's compressing both of you closer together. When he hears your approval, his hand between your legs bunches up the front of your skirt. When he slips it up he snakes his hand over your stomach to push down into your underwear.

A faint groan echoes in Jisung’s throat the second his fingers feel your bare skin, exploring around your underwear to feel the slickness there.

"You’ve made a mess. Missed me this much, huh?” his voice is low, while he drags his warm lips up your neck.

You only manage to nod your head, your brain focused on squirming your hips to find some kind of friction again. He finally rests the pads of his fingers against your throbbing clit, starting to tease circles that force a quiet whimper out of you. Your eyes are still closed as excitement and neediness flood your nerves.

For doing something that should be wrong, it feels so damn right, and it's all you can think of. Feeling him is all you can think about.

"You sure I can take some pictures?" He checks, keeping his movements steady as your hips start to circle against his hand,

You don't respond at first—you can’t��too caught up in how this is feeling, and when he dips his fingers down to your pussy to collect more arousal on his fingers before moving back to your clit and applying more pressure, your head falls forward as you pant out a strained, "You - fuck, yes, you can."

He chuckles hearing how fucked out you are for him, and he’s only just started. But it’s when you hold onto the thigh he’s been using to pry your legs open that his eyes darken with need.

He keeps his fingers moving while he manages to get some coins he had in his pocket, reaching forward to put them into the coin slot, then pressing the button to start the timer.

When he relaxes back he applies a firmer pressure, and starts to massage your clit in quicker circles; making your mouth drop open with a gasped moan. You can barely hear the beep for the picture anymore, everything around you turning blurry, and all you can hear is your heart beat mixed your heavy breathing.

"That's it baby," he coos, with a gravel to his voice from the tension in it, "God I wish I could fuck you right now. I’ve been dying for it.”

Your skin is burning up, and all you can manage in response is the pants from your open mouth, desperately trying to keep yourself quiet.

You start to grind yourself against him as his fingers work, and feel the hard bulge forming in his pants underneath your ass.

He wasn't kidding when he said he'd be quick, he's already building the pressure in your lower belly, making your stomach muscles tighten, while he moves his fingers in the exact way he knows you love it.

That knot in your lower half tightens, and your legs start to tremble as a louder moan you can't stop comes out of your mouth.

"Fuck—Jisung," you whimper, with your chest starting to heave with rapid uneven breaths.

He only quickens his fingers driving with determination and speed, making sure to keep repeating the same movements that are getting the best reactions from you and when your head falls back as you moan again; his free hand comes up to cover your mouth.

"Shhhh—quiet, remember?" He hushes against your ear, groaning at the feeling of you grinding against him, "I know you wanna cum baby, but there’s no way I’m letting anyone else hear how you sound for me.”

All you can manage is a muffled "mhm" against his hand as your eyes squeeze tighter. That familiar sensation starts to ripple from your centre down your legs and into the rest of your limbs.

The orgasm is speeding towards you, faster than anticipated causing your back to arch up as your hips writhe. Your mind is foggy only able to make out quiet whispers of encouragement coming from Jisung.

As the release ripples through your body and your moans are muted against his hand, Jisung groans again, feeling you shake on top of him. He can’t help but snap his hand away to grasp at your jaw to turn your face and kiss you hard while you ride through your climax.

The kiss is mostly open lips grazing against each other, or trying to connect in messy motions with both of your laboured breathing mixing together. His fingers only pause when you try to pull yourself away from them.

Once your eyes drift open to see Jisung’s, the look in them makes you want to squeeze your legs together again if you could move them currently.

Jisung brings his hand up, and grazes his pointer and middle finger he just used to send your body into a frenzy against your lower lip as a silent request for you to open your mouth. You don’t deny it, taking them into your mouth to taste yourself.

“Fucking hell,” his eyes dart back and forth from your eyes to your mouth. His head rolls back against the wall behind you and he whines in the quiet, "God fucking help me."

Your body is still buzzing, floating down dazed from the high it was on, and you watch Jisung bite down on his lower lip as his brows knit tight together, as his hips shift beneath you.

"Everything okay, Sungie?" It’s the only thing your mushed brain can think of saying as you look down at his strained pants.

"Fuck no," he mumbles, looking like he's trying to compose himself, "But it’s my own fault. I suggested we do this. I’ll deal with myself later.”

"Later?" You ask.

Jisung lifts his head back up, leaning forward to press a kiss to your cheek as he rubs his palm up and down your thigh, "Yeah, later. When we get home and we watch that movie you promised me.”

He thinks you don’t know that he uses the movie thing as a code to fuck you — but you do know — and that’s why you’ve never protested when he puts on another one of those Harry Potter movies he loves.

"You sure you'll be able to wait that long?"

Jisung’s lips lift up at the corners, "I’ve waited weeks for this, I’m sure I can manage a couple more hours.”

He hugs you against him with his arms around your stomach, and back against his firm chest.

"But then again,” he begins “Now I have the memory of how fucking hot watching you get off in here was. That makes waiting like some kind of sick torture to me."

You let out a weak laugh, feeling your cheeks flush more than they already were, "I still can't believe we just did this."

"I can, and there's pictures to prove it," he smiles, pulling the strip of three black and white photos from the dispenser.

#nct smut #park jisung smut #jisung smut #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #park jisung x reader #jisung x reader #nct hard hours #kpop smut #nct scenarios #park jisung scenarios #nct imagines

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harunayuuka2060 · 4 months ago

Text

Lilia: Oh dear...

MC: *accidentally shot Idia's tablet while practicing their magic*

MC: ...

Lilia: *tries to lighten up the mood* I’m sure Idia has plenty of gadgets to use. This shouldn’t be a big issue.

MC: I should go apologize.

Lilia: How are you planning to do that? Idia dislikes being approached, so he'll just run away if you try.

MC: I'll just sneak up on him then.

Lilia: ...

Lilia: Pft- *laughs*

MC: Pépé?

Lilia: *amused smirk* Oh I would love to see that.

Idia: Seriously...

Idia: How can someone be so careless?

Ortho: Honestly, it was pretty amazing that they could shoot from that distance.

Idia: I liked them more when they were just an ordinary, magicless human. Now they break things like Malleus does.

Ortho: It was unintentional.

Idia: Yeah, I know.

Ortho: Hm?

Idia: What is it, Ortho?

Ortho: It's them. They've come to visit.

Idia: Huh?! No, no! Shoo them away!

Ortho: ...

MC: *who's already standing behind Idia*

Idia: Ortho! What are you still waiting for?!

Ortho: ...

Ortho: *smiles* Welcome, MC!

MC: *smiles back* Thank you.

Idia: !!!

Idia: *fainted from shock*

Ortho: Are you here to return my brother's tablet?

MC: Oh, yes. I’m sorry for breaking it.

Ortho: *giggles* It's fine. Anyway, I’m impressed by how you avoided our alarms.

MC: Lilia mentioned that he would run away if I made my presence known.

Ortho: That’s true, but I’d recommend ambushing him next time.

MC: ...

MC: Wouldn't that be mean?

Ortho: Yes, but he needs to learn to interact with his peers.

MC: I see.

Ortho: Oh! Did you know? My brother loves your SDC performance!

Ortho: He said you looked like you came straight out of an otome game!

MC: *smiles* That's quite nice of him.

Idia: *has regained consciousness but chose to pretend to be asleep*

Idia: Ortho...

Lilia: What did Idia say?

MC: He pretended to be asleep the whole time, so I ended up just talking to Ortho. He told me not to worry about the tablet.

Lilia: Ooh! That's great!

MC: ...

MC: Pépé, something's been bothering me since I met Ortho.

Lilia: Hm? What is it, dear?

MC: Has technology in Twisted Wonderland advanced so much that an android humanoid could contain a human soul?

Lilia: ...

Lilia: Pardon?

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst idia #twst ortho #twst lilia #twst a life reclaimed

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biteyoubiteme · 8 months ago

Text

busy signal

fem!reader x huening kai x choi yeonjun

synopsis: yeonjuns away on a trip and sends you a suggestive photo leaving you needing the help of your other boyfriend kai to take care of you.

warnings: 🔞!! established relationship, throuple/poly, no mxm, phone sex, breeding kink if you squint, size kink if you squint, praise, nipple play, fingering, multiple orgasms (f!rec), oral (f!rec), unprotected sex, creampie, use of the name baby, love, and the word slutty is used once.

wc: 4.7k oops

an: this is my first post on tumblr and first time writing anything with k-pop idols. feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]

in the middle of class your phone gave a deafening jingle in the silent room. for the better part of the day your phone had not gone off meaning you didn’t know the ringer was waiting to interrupt your lesson. waiting for the perfect time to make you flustered as you tried to dig it out of your over-cramped bag to shut it off.

by the time you grab it, the class is watching as your cheeks turn pink stitching it to silent. the professor clears their throat to catch everyone’s attention again as you look at the message that embarrassed you.

thinking of you <333

the photo attached is enough to make your blush burn your ears. Yeonjun had an away game this week in Chicago. Kai and you were unable to make it because of your class schedules, and every time he went away with the hockey team he made sure to fill your phone with lude photos and audios. in his words to “make sure you don’t forget about me.”

so now you were not only embarrassed for the outburst but feeling needy all at once. Yeonjun was leaning back shirtless on his hotel bed fisting his hard cock through the thin material of his underwear.

you clicked your phone off as fast as you could hoping no one saw the photo and if they did it had been too quick to know exactly what it was. but you knew instantly because it was one of Yeonjuns favorite poses and he knew it was one of your favorites.

You still had thirty minutes in class left and a bike ride home where you were sure to call Yeonjun to chew him out knowing he has your schedule memorized. for now you slumped in your seat pushing your thighs together to relieve yourself, if only slightly because as class went on the only thing you could think about was Yeonjun and his teasing.

when you do call Yeonjun he chuckles over the line “I’m sorry the time difference has me all messed up,”

“I was so embarrassed,” your tone is on the edge of a whine and you can practically hear Yeonjun smile.

“Did I make you all hot and bothered in theoretical physics?”

“junnie,” you drag the name out and he chuckles again.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you can hear one of his teammates calling for him, “I’ll call you tonight maybe I can walk you through your little problem,”

“I don’t have a problem,” but it’s a lie and he knows it. your bike ride having made it all the more obvious how needy you really are, the seat pushing the seam of your jeans right against your clit uncomfortably.

“liar,” he sings, “if you can’t wait until tonight you do have Kai waiting at the apartment. he could fix your problem,”

“I don’t have a problem for anyone to fix,” you say, making it to your apartment and locking your bike up. “and kai is busy you shouldn’t be making me his to handle when you did this to me,”

“So you admit it,” grin in his voice.

“Yeonjun-“

“yes yes I know no teasing you cross country but hey you have two boyfriends for a reason. now I have to go, I love you!” he hung up before you could reply.

kai, Yeonjun, and you have been a trouple since high school and friends for far longer. it was not unusual in your relationship for Yeonjun to pass you off to Kai seeing as both of you tended to be a bit shy around each other when it came to sex unless it was the right circumstances i.e being drunk or just being extra clingy. kai and you are always cuddling and close. you love it when he touches you but Yeonjun is usually there to guide the two of you together, that one extra push to set the two of you in motion. you mostly think this is because the three of you started this way in the first place making it the norm.

you push open the door to your shared apartment kicking off your shoes and handing your keys on the hook. Kai's penguin keychain is already in its place showing he’s home. The only light coming from the office down the short hallway, the curtains closed against the setting sun. Padding your way over to the office you see Kai with his rumpled brown hair typing on his keyboard. He had a long paper due by midnight and had been working on it the past week, even last night he had only made it to bed around two in the morning.

you toss your school bag next to your empty desk on the opposite side of Kai’s before leaning over his seat to wrap your arms around him in a hello. “working hard huening?” you ask, pressing the side of your face into his hair. He tilts his chin in a way signaling to peck his check all without him taking his eyes away from the screen.

“nearly done,”

“Have you been staring at the screen all day?” you ask, taking in his squinted eyes and dark circles. “Did you eat anything since I left this morning?”

“some jelly I found in the fridge,” he nods.

“You can’t survive only on jelly,” you press on more kisses to his cheek before pulling away, “I’ll order takeaway for dinner but for now I’m going to try and nap,” he nods away, never leaving the essay the entire time. you are halfway out the door when he speaks up, “Did you talk to Hyung? Did his game go well?” and you’re brought back to the photo on your phone. kai would have been able to see how red you had gotten if he had looked your way. you weren't wearing a bra under your sweatshirt, your tank top being sufficient enough but your nipples are hard and uncomfortable against the martial.

“His game was good, he um, interrupted my class with his messages,” your voice was weak but unnoticed by Kai.

“oh good,” and you rush to your room to pull off your clothes. first the jeans digging into you then your sweatshirt. but as you lay down in your empty bed you can’t find anything to calm your racing mind. you grab your phone from the nightstand trying to scroll aimlessly but you keep thinking about the photo.

tossing and turning you end up on your stomach too hot to be under the covers even in only your panties and tank top. you open the text chain with Yeonjun and it’s the first thing you see. the sly little “thinking of you” message eating you alive. it was so unfair that he was so easily satisfied when away from you but you couldn’t get off by yourself and not that you hadn’t tried many times before. your hands weren’t the right feel, too short fingers, too soft, too much to think about. but you needed to get off now, looking at him with the veins in his hands showing off. you were uncomfortably wet and aching. you hadn’t even noticed the small whines you were letting out as you rolled over to your back pulling your knees up to rub your thighs together.

you wanted to call Yeonjun and beg him to walk you through an orgasm, wanted to beg Kai to take over with his mouth even if he was exhausted. but you dug your grave earlier and wouldn’t hear the end of it from Yeonjun if you fessed up to being so turned on by the photo.

This conundrum leads you to the file you had saved with all the previous photos Yeonjun had sent for this very purpose. there was no forgetting him now and not ever when he made you feel this way hundreds of miles away.

you hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting, how the room was dark and you were still stuck lying in bed looking for a release you couldn’t give yourself. and not for the lack of trying you just couldn’t make it to the end. Every missed orgasm made you tear up your soft whines suddenly pulling Kai’s attention from the other room.

The office has an adjoining wall and he was too focused on his paper to see what time it was or to see that the only light now was from his screen. He hit submit flicking off the monitor to hear your soft whimper.

he remembered you saying you would be taking a nap and then ordering food. but now seeing the time you had slept for way longer than you usually napped for after class and he would know because it was one of his favorite after-class activities to nap right along with you.

he picked himself up from his desk making his way into the dark hallway following your desperate whines. When he made it to the dark bedroom the three of you shared he flipped the switch that only lit the far corners lamp. and There you were with your hand in your pale pink panties eyes screwed shut, skin hot and flushed. you gave a weak sob before tugging your hand back still unaware of Kai in the doorway.

Kai was frozen, face turning all different shades of pink. He was tired before but now he was awake, the swell of his cock clearly seen through his gray sweatpants. He has always reacted easily to the sight of you and he was fast to try and push those feelings away. He was needy and always believed himself to be too needy and he wanted to keep you from that. Let Yeonjun take over sexually and let Kai take over emotionally.

but now here you are teary and writhing in the bed. your phone is next to your head and without warning it rings startling both you and Kai, who you finally notice.

both of you are still as the ringtone sings alone in the silence. “answer it,” Kai’s voice is thick in his throat and you lean up on your elbows to grab the phone, shutting your knees to try and hide the wet spot on your panties as if he hadn't already seen it.

“I almost didn't think you would pick up,” is the first thing Yeonjun says, the sound of his crinkling sheets on the other line telling you he was tucking in for the night.

“I was…” another tear sliding down your cheek, eyes locked on huening who gives nothing away. “busy,” the phone pressed to your ear.

“busy? working out the problem I gave you?” he says it as a joke but you’re already too needy to take it well. your voice shakes ready to burst into tears, “You’re the worst you already know I can’t do it myself,” you blink up to the ceiling trying to hold back any more tears from slipping and to avoid Kai’s gaze.

“Where is kai? I left you in perfectly capable hands,”

“he was busy and I didn’t want to bother him,”

“But where is he now, you said was, so he must be done. His deadline was a few minutes ago,” you peek over to huening, his arms crossed still standing in the door watching you, eyes trying to see right through your legs. “He's here,” you whisper shyly.

“put me on speaker,”

“junnie,”

“put me on speaker,” no room for argument. you follow instructions balancing the phone on your knees so you can rest your elbow back down on the mattress. “I leave for three days and you guys can’t live without me?”

“Hyung-“

“huening we’ve been over this before if she needs to be taken care of she gets taken care of,”

“I’m not a house plant,” you quip, “ and I don’t need to be forced onto any-“

“you’re never forcing me,” Kai cuts in, “if you had asked I could have…” but he shakes his head not knowing how to continue.

“use your words,” Yeonjun pushed after Kai trails off, “You both get nowhere without asking, again we've been over this. kai you know what you're doing and she likes it, loves it, hell we both know she likes your fingers over mine,”

“junnie,” your blush is all down your chest now made to look worse by your white tank, your nipples are straining against the fabric. you don’t know why you always felt so shy around Kai, maybe it was because he was so much bigger than you even if you were a little older. he stood over you, took up space in the doorframe, and completely wrapped himself around you when you hugged, that added with the fact he too was shy only worsened the effect you had on each other. even after knowing each other for most of your lives.

Kai had already made it to the bed sitting right on the edge close enough to hear the phone better. “Pick yourself up, use your words, and ask for what you want. if I can’t even see you and I know exactly what it is you want then it should be easy for the two of you to grasp,”

“But what if…” Kai starts and you know he wants to bring up the one time he didn’t make you finish. It was years ago in high school when the three of us were still new to sex. Yeonjun was there to make you cum but it made Kai scared ever since and it only worsened his fear of repeating that night when Yeonjun wasn’t here to make up for him.

“huening that was like six years ago and I’ve seen you make her cum so hard she couldn’t form words before. Do you need me to walk you through it?”

Kai placed a hand around your ankle at the question sending a bolt to your core. your knee jerking in response sending the phone flying from your knee and onto your stomach still face up. “could you?”

“What's she wearing?”

Kai drags his hand up your calf and you clamp your knees together. “hardly anything,” his voice is throaty, his pupils blown. “the blush pink panties and a spaghetti strap tank,”

Yeonjun hums over the phone approvingly. “Summer always makes her dress so slutty,” he groans, “not fair I don’t get to see,”

“facetime?” Kai asks leaning over to place a feather-light kiss on your knee.

“you guys won’t be able to hold the phone the way I want to see,” he shuffles again in bed. “is she wet?”

you whimper at the question keeping your knees pinned together but Kai already knows the answer, “soaked even though she’s trying to hide it,”

“am not,” and Kai raises his brows but doesn’t push it, only lays another stomach-fluttering kiss on your knee.

“always wants to deny deny deny,” and Kai chuckles,” Pull her legs open I’m sure you will have to hold her thighs down,”

Kai follows his instructions, butterflying your legs to either side, hands eating up your thighs. Kai pulls himself onto the bed fully laying down to be level with your clothes core. you can feel his breath through the wet fabric and you try to wiggle away.

Kai squeezes the meat of your thigh again in warning. “take your time before taking her panties off,”

kai blows cool air onto your clothed wet center making you buck your hips so sensitive from the strain of the day. Kai keeps you pinned before leaning in to rub his nose over the sodden fabric, the tip brushing your clit sending a chill up your spine. He gives a little smile at your reaction, your teeth digging into your lip.

“I want to hear you baby,” Yeonjun took the words right from his mouth. Kai needs to hear your moans now with your tears drying on your cheeks, your desperate whines turning into desperate pleas.

Kai gives the smallest kiss to your clit and you try to chase the sensation. “Kai,” your pout is unheard as he lifts a finger to pull back your panties to reveal you to him.

and no matter how many times he’s faced your pussy it will forever be his favorite sight. your puffy lips begging to be sucked, clit swollen, and you never fail to be drenched and glistening. He licks his lips, you had mentioned him needing to eat and now he’s faced with his favorite meal.

“slow huening you always give her what she wants so fast let her wait,”

“junnie please, I’ve been waiting all day,” you try to roll your hips to meet Kai’s face but he pulls away keeping his finger hooked in your panties. it’s hard to completely move with his chest on your feet but it doesn’t stop you from trying when he latches onto your thigh leaving a trail of kisses and bites.

“Please,” you breathe and the chorus of both of them moaning makes your stomach flutter, they always make the prettiest noises.

Kai quits his teasing and gives you one last clit kiss before suddenly licking a path from your entrance to your clit where he latches on and gives a harsh suck. the sensation makes your knees jerk up and you reach a hand out to tangle in his hair, tugging hard. “oh fuck,” are the only coherent words Yeonjun can make out over the phone.

in Chicago, he’s spread out on his bed phone in one hand and his cock in the other. gripping the base to relieve some pressure but not jerking off just yet.

kai works your clit just the way you like and you can feel your impending orgasm building with how close you’ve been all night. kai let’s go of your thigh with one hand before gathering up your slick and prodding your entrance. your back arches giving him better access and you moan as he slips a finger in and then another.

“She's close,” Yeonjun breathes. He and Kai both know the change in your whimpering.

kai nips at your clit and you cry out as he presses the sweet gummy spot inside you that makes you see stars. you cum hard enough to have tears leaking again, your hand pulling Kai down harder on your clit before it’s too much and you have to let him go.

kai pulls away but not before licking you clean leaving you twitching. your pussy was swollen and he couldn’t wait to feel you strangling his cock the second he got it in you.

“See I told you that you didn’t have to worry,” Yeonjuns light laugh from the phone is followed by a weak moan. “legs up, fold her in half,”

Kai doesn't follow his orders first, picking up the phone and placing it on your chest. you were already spilling out of your tank so he took the opportunity to tug the straps down and reveal your tits to him. Kai bites his lip before leaning down to give you soft pecks all along your chest. “I didn’t even kiss you first I'm so sorry baby,” he mutters into your neck kissing up your jaw and to your mouth.

before you can say anything in return his mouth is in yours and you can taste yourself on his tongue. Now with him hovering over you your legs are free to wrap around him. tugging his sweatpants-covered cock closer to your entrance. He moans into your mouth before his large hand takes hold of your breast tweaking your nipple. “huening,” you moan, throwing your head back when he ruts into you. He leans down to latch his lips around your untouched breast, nipping you as he rolls his hips forward again.

the phone is close to Kai’s mouth and Yeonjuns breathing is labored on the other end. “I can’t wait any longer,” Yeonjun spits into his palm giving himself one loose tug, “I want to hear her cum again,”

Kai nods even if he can’t be seen over the phone and he pulls away from you tugging off his shirt by the back collar and throwing it behind him. he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, a wet spot where he has been rubbing against you, tugging them down to let his cock slap his stomach. The release makes him moan, knowing just like Yeonjun he couldn’t wait and he needed to hear you moaning again. he wastes no time in tugging your ruined panties down your legs before placing his hands in the pit of your knees and bending you in half like Yeonjun suggested. your ankles are on Kai’s shoulders and he has the perfect view.

your hair all over the pillows, eyes half-lidded, you had taken over with tugging on your nipples, your tank top now a makeshift belt around your center, phone stuck to your chest from the sheen of sweat you now had.

you watched Kai drag a hand over his cock, hard and red waiting for you. He almost buckled at the feeling, his free hand wrapping around your thigh to pull you open. “Look at you,” he whispers, taking the tip and dragging it through your wet folds. the sound is loud and Yeonjun chuckles “She sounds ready,”

but Kai’s not moving to slide into you he’s now back to teasing, running the head of his cock back and forth from your entrance to your clit without enough pressure. you roll your hips whining, “Hyuka please,” he shudders at the nickname before notching the mushroom tip of his cock inside you. it always amazed you how he could fit all of himself in you when before you had always believed you would never be able to take all of him. but he proves you wrong again as he pushes in inch by inch both of you moaning loud enough for Yeonjun to buckle all the way in Chicago. “fuck fuck fuck you sound so good,” he’s trying to go slow with the rhythm he tugs but he can’t keep himself in check the way you do for him.

kai bottoms out leaning forward and bending you properly in half before burying his nose into your neck to try and catch his breath.

you can feel him so deep you can’t think straight. his arms hugging your legs to him as he places an open palm over your ribs, the heat of his skin on yours letting you sink into the mattress. kai kisses the swell of your collarbone before pulling out an inch and pushing back in. You whimper at the sensation, weaving your fingers in his dark hair and pulling the strands. both of your boys loved their hair to be played with during sex or just resting next to each other.

kai pushes himself up placing his free hand next to your head for leverage, holding you still by your side with the other. he pulls out almost all the way and you try to chase him making him giggle, “Patience love I’ll give you more,” he slowly inches in and you hum arching into him. “look at you, how did I get so lucky? hum?” the praise makes you preen and Yeonjun approves, “so willing for us,” he grunts the soft sound of his hand slapping heard.

kai picks up the pace to match the sound, he's knocking the cradle of your legs, heavy balls matching the beat on your skin. ”deeper,” it’s a throaty ask from your lips but Kai hears you and sinks his hips, elbow bending slightly as his other hand tugs on your tank top using it like a handle. and he goes deeper and you swear you can feel him in your throat, your moan not even sounding like you anymore. kai is now pounding into you finding the heady rhythm Yeonjun set with ease, fucking into you so well that the phone slips from your chest into the crook of your neck pressing the speaker into your ear. Yeonjuns moans are louder making your toes curl your second orgasm building heavy in your stomach. “I want it hyuka please cum in me,”

Kai’s movements falter at your plea, his arm holding him up buckling from his stutter. “Beg,” Yeonjun mutters knowing exactly what Kai needs, if anything Yeonjun thinks huening has a thing for hearing you beg and whimper and that’s why he holds out so long when it comes to you after you both have overcome your shyness. but jun knows that when you both get to this point in the night Kai needs you to beg for him.

“Please I can take it,” Kai’s head falls to your ear, his moans in one and Yeonjuns in the other, “please I’ve been good,”

“no she hasn’t,” Yeonjun groans, “she was looking at dirty pictures in class,”

Kai almost can’t take the accusation, the trembling in his arm traveling down his spine, he wants to cum, knows it’s going to happen at any moment but he wants you there with him. “p-pictures?” He can hardly get any words out.

“I wasn’t,” you shake your head before crying out as Kai delivers a powerful thrust.

“she was and I don’t think she should cum now since she’s denying it,”

“Yeonjun please,” you have tears threatening to spill. your hand in Kai’s hair pushing him closer to your throat your other one scratching at the back of his neck, “please hyuka I wasn’t, please I want to cum please please pl-“Kai takes his thumb and shoves it into your mouth to quiet you, your tank top now forgotten as you suck his finger. “promise to take it all,” he’s breathless hot air fanning over your skin.

“I want it please hyuka,” you whine when he takes his thumb back to wedge between the two of you to press on your clit. you jolt at the contact and somehow he sinks deeper between your legs, both of you trying to chase the feeling again.

you can feel him twitch inside you, the sign he’s about to cum. “junnie?”

“I’m right there baby,” his breathy moans growing louder by the second.

Kai presses down on your clit stilling inside you as he cums. his moans pressed into your ear. The heat of him as he gives weak strokes to ride out his high triggers your orgasm right after your head falls back into the pillows, legs shaking as your pussy flutters around Kai. Yeonjun follows right after, his curses stained.

the room is silent as Kai finally lets his arm go, letting his full weight lay on you. your legs are numb as you feel Kai's light kisses behind your ear. “you did so well,” your happy sigh is enough to make Kai grin against your skin.

“I made a mess,” Yeonjun mutters, “I wish I had my girl to come lick me clean,”

“junnie,” the image making you pulse around Kai’s softening cock, it wouldn't be the first time Yeonjun had made you follow the trail he left up his stomach.

kai finally rises back up letting your legs fall as he pulls out. the steady leak of your combined cum warm and staining the sheets.

you’re completely limp in the bed as huening moves to grab a wet rag to wipe you up. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow night,” Yeonjuns smile heard over the line.

“I can’t believe you told Kai I was looking at dirty pictures,” your hand falls over your eyes as you feel huening spread your legs, the warm rag soothing to your heated flesh.

“you did look at my dirty photo”,

“It was like a flash bang i wasn’t expecting it while in class,”

“So you were looking at dirty pictures in class,” Kai laughs, kissing your inner thigh before guiding your legs into a new pair of clean panties. He had already put on new briefs himself before tugging off the soiled comforter to toss in the wash later. He was always so meticulous in picking up after sex where Yeonjun could easily have snuggled in dirty sheets and all.

“not really,” you sit up to tug your tank top back into place pulling your phone along with you. “just hurry back already, and let’s not bring it up again,”

Kai pulls the spare blanket from the closet before pulling himself under with you. “yeah hyung hurry back the bed feels empty with only the two of us in it,”

1K notes · View notes

nadvs · 4 months ago

Text

out of bounds (part seven) (end)

pairing zach maclaren and soccerplayer! female reader

rating mature 18+ for smut

summary zach has never been the type to rebel, but when he meets you at a soccer camp where you’re both working as counselors, which has a strict policy against dating between staff, he’s tempted to break the rules for the first time.

» masterlist

When you wake up in your cabin the next morning, it’s the first time since you arrived at camp that you wish you were waking up in your own bed back home.

Because after the way everything came crashing down on you yesterday, you don’t want to face what’s waiting for you.

At best, you have three weeks left of the season, of living with Ami after she broke your trust, of dealing with whatever’s going on with Zach if Malcolm’s words on the field didn’t make their way to the directors.

At worst, you and Zach get fired. And if your season really is cut short and you’re kicked out of here, you’re worried he’d only see you as the rule he broke, the girl who played a role in ruining something so important to him.

You check your phone to see the text exchange you had with Zach a few minutes after you left him outside last night. He had texted I’m sorry. You replied me, too.

You’re not sure how to even have this conversation. He was clearly upset with you last night and you can understand why he would be.

But at the same time, you’re uneasy thinking about the night you first told him that Ami knew about you two. He said he was okay with it, and now you’re not so sure, because last night, he texted that all was good, but it seemed like he was anything but good when you ran into him.

Zach had told you he’s not always upfront about when something’s bothering him. You know it’s simply a piece of who he is – it’s not personal. But you can’t rid yourself of the ache in your heart when you realize that even after you’ve shared so much together, you’re no exception. He keeps things from you, too.

You get ready for the day, deeply wishing your secret relationship had stayed secret.

You’re sitting with your campers in the dining hall when Ami approaches your table a few minutes into breakfast.

“Can we talk real quick?” she says quietly, cupping a hand around the inside of your elbow. You nod, following her outside.

“I am so, so, so sorry,” she says once you’re out of earshot from everyone. “I totally get why Zach’s mad and I get if you’re mad, too. I chewed Malcolm out for it first thing this morning for what it’s worth.”

You wish you knew firsthand how Zach is feeling instead of hearing through Ami. You figure she heard through Malcolm, but it hurts that you haven’t spoken to him yet.

“Why’d you tell him?” you say with a disappointed sigh, crossing your arms.

“It honestly slipped out,” she begins. “You know how I told you I thought things were starting to get serious?”

“Yeah.”

“The night before the game, I asked him if he sees anything in the future with us and…” Ami shakes her head, her frown deepening. “He was all like, this is just a fun thing for the summer. But I just kept trying to convince him and then I blurted out you and Zach are planning to stay together, so why couldn’t we?”

She sighs.

“I’m so mad at myself,” she says. “I started this fling with him agreeing it was casual, but I caught feelings and embarrassed myself and told your secret in the process.”

You take a moment, genuinely empathetic of her heartbreak. If Zach had told you he didn’t want to pursue things with you after the season, you’d be gutted.

“I’m sorry he did that,” you say.

“It’s okay. He wasn’t mean or anything. Just honest.”

You nod, figuring as much. You’re not surprised to hear that Zach’s best friend wasn’t unkind about it. Zach wouldn’t be the type to willingly surround himself with mean people.

“I really am sorry,” Ami says. “When I yelled at him about it, he said he knew not to say it loud enough for Ruby or any of the kids to hear.”

“But other counselors were around,” you say.

“That’s what I said,” she sighs. “And I swear, I told him not to tell anyone, but he was like, if any staff take it seriously, I’ll say I was just kidding around. But he apologized and I could tell he felt really bad. Apparently, he’d never seen Zach that upset.”

You look down at the grass, wishing the weight of regret on your shoulders was enough to erase it from ever even happening.

“Are we still friends?” she asks. “I’m so sorry. I’m not usually this dumb, I swear.”

You exhale slowly. You can tell she’s devastated. And what’s done is done.

“You’re not dumb,” you tell her. “I’m convinced there’s something in the air here that makes it hard to keep secrets.”

Ami gives you a grateful smile, chuckling softly, clearly remembering the stories you told her all about the close calls you had with Zach.

“I can get on board with that theory,” she says.

“Do you think Ruby heard? Or if any other counselors took Malcolm seriously?” you ask.

She takes a moment, then shrugs.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “All I remember is being really mad at him. Did she say anything to you or to Zach?”

“Not to me,” you say. “I don’t know about Zach. We only talked for like a minute last night. It was weird.”

“Weird?”

You nod, relieved you can at least find some sort of release with venting to her about this.

“I think he was upset with me, but didn’t want to say so. And I didn’t want to force him to talk, so I left. We said sorry to each other over text. Things just… feel off.”

“Please don’t tell me my big mouth broke up the cutest couple ever,” she says.

“Ever?” you laugh.

“Ever.”

She gives you a quick, appreciative hug before you both have to run back inside.

You meet Zach’s eyes a few times through breakfast. Even though he’s all the way across the big, loud hall, the air between you feels stiff.

Of all the difficult things you’re feeling, the sharp sense of guilt is the most overwhelming. Even though he was the one who took the first step, asking to kiss you that night by the lake, you wish you’d have resisted the temptation.

Because you know that however much anxiety you’re feeling, he’s feeling it a hundred times worse.

When Zach sets out to the pitch after breakfast, surrounded by boisterous kids, he accepts that the hope that he’d feel better after getting some food in him was misguided.

He’s always hated when his thoughts race like this. There’s no clear right answer, no obvious way to fix this. And while he’d like to listen to his impulse to ignore the discomfort, there’s no way to do that.

He knows he needs to talk to you. He’d do anything to fast forward past the serious conversation and get back to how things were.

There’s a very real chance that your relationship has been exposed. It’d be so embarrassing to have to face his aunt and uncle after breaking the one big rule, when he, of all the staff, is supposed to know better.

He’s not sure they’d really even go through firing anyone and would possibly just settle for a warning, but them finding out would be punishment enough for Zach.

He takes the fact that neither Ruby nor Tom have approached him since the game yesterday as a good sign. Plus, Malcolm assured him that whoever heard his words on the field wouldn’t take it seriously. But there’s never a guarantee.

Zach doesn’t like being mad. But he is. At his best friend. At his girlfriend. At himself. He tries to throw himself into work, pretending like the unsettled feeling hanging over him isn’t there.

By the end of the day, you still haven’t had a chance to speak to Zach. And now that you’re even closer to being found out, you’d rather not take the risk of talking in a public place.

So, you check the schedule to see that the next time one of you has an empty cabin is two days from now, when Malcolm is on an overnight shift.

Before dinner, you text Zach: want to talk on thursday night when malcolm’s gone? i think it’s best we have privacy.

He replies: yes. smart.

And then, because he can’t help himself, because he’s afraid he screwed up, he texts: miss you.

The message is a reprieve from the stress you’ve been feeling all day. You respond: miss you, too.

When Friday rolls around, Zach feels like he hasn’t spoken to you in years, instead of just days. He rushes to his cabin after lights out, tidying up like he did the first night you came over.

He’s sure in he’s in the clear because he hasn’t been spoken to by his aunt or uncle. They don’t know. While that is a relief, knowing he’s on shaky ground with you is enough to keep him on edge.

You knock quickly and quietly. Zach opens the door. He can’t help himself. He has to hold you.

You close the door and face him and he wraps his arms around you so suddenly that you let out a startled gasp.

“Hey,” he says hoarsely, nuzzled into your neck. You hug him back.

“Hi.” You breathe in his familiar scent, fresh like the morning breeze. He pulls back to see your brows pinched together, your eyes searching his face. He hates that you look surprised that he’s giving you affection.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer on impulse. You shake your head. “Actually, no. I mean, well, we haven’t been fired. That’s good.”

“Yeah. If they knew, they would’ve have said something by now.”

“Right,” you say. You take a deep breath. “But things feel different. With us.”

Zach hates to agree, his lips falling into a small frown. He doesn’t want to do this. He just wants to hold you and kiss you and joke around with you.

“It’s because we had another close call,” he says. “It’s okay. Things are different because we haven’t snuck out to make out in a shed in a while.”

His joke falls flat as you look down at the floor. His hands are still on your waist and when you comfortingly drag yours down to rest on his chest, it slows his thoughts down a little.

“I want you to tell me when you’re not okay,” you mumble when you gaze back up at him.

Zach’s stomach numbs with anxiety. He can feel it rising, the reflex to pretend everything’s fine when it’s not.

“I did,” he says. “I do. Remember the night on the dock?”

You nod. The way he had opened up to you about how he’d struggled with being bullied for being a quiet kid was different. That wasn’t about you.

“I mean I want you to tell me when I’m the reason you’re not okay,” you reply. “I heard from Ami that Malcolm said he’d never seen you so upset.”

“Because I was mad at him,” Zach half-chuckles. “And he’s over-exaggerating.”

It’s not entirely true. The conversation had been the most tense one they’d ever had.

Malcolm was lighthearted about it at first, saying it was a joke and that he was offended that Zach hadn’t told him about how he was breaking rules with you. But once Zach had tersley told him he could have messed everything up for him, Malcolm’s smile disappeared and he apologized profusely.

Zach couldn’t blame him. He’s hardly ever the type be serious. But so much is on the line here.

Confrontation is easier when it’s his best friend of years, but it still isn’t exactly comfortable. So confronting you, a girl he’s helplessly falling in love with, opens the door to an argument and to you deciding he’s too sensitive and not worth the hassle.

“I don’t want to push you,” you tell him, “but I remember you telling me that you get over things on your own and you don’t have to that with me. It’s okay if you’re mad that I told Ami.”

“Baby,” he whispers with a smirk. “What else could you have done? She saw these, right?”

His fingers are featherlight over your collarbone, gently rubbing over the fabric of your shirt. He wonders if the hickeys are still visible.

“I could’ve hidden them better,” you say, “or come up with a lie.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Zach breathes.

A quiet, tense moment passes between you. You’re not convinced.

“Do you promise?” you ask, eyes doleful.

His smirk fades. At this point, he’d be lying straight to your face if he said yes. Seeing you so sad is gut-wrenching. Being dishonest with you while you’re like this would just be wrong.

“It’s… complicated,” he rasps.

You bite your lip. You’re not upset that he’s mad. You’re upset that you had to pry it out of him. Your hands fall off his chest and you step back, swallowing the tears threatening to fall.

“Can we sit?” he asks softly.

You give in, settling on the edge of his bed. He sits next to you. Watching you like this is making every part of him ache, his mouth going dry.

“When you told me you don’t admit when you’re upset,” you say, “I wondered what’d happen when I did something wrong.”

Zach swallows hard. It sounds like you’ve been on edge since that night you went shopping together, holding onto his words.

“So, what, you’ve been on eggshells since then?” he asks, his tone low and sympathetic.

“No. I just mean that problems are bound to come up and I want us to feel comfortable telling the other when they do.”

You expel a deep sigh, crossing your arms. It’s hard to explain, the sense of instability this has been giving you. You want to be able to take him at his word when he says everything’s okay. Not have to wonder and nag him.

It concerns you if this will be the dynamic in your relationship. Maybe it’s too soon, but you can’t shake away the worry.

Zach nervously threads his hand through his hair. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I shouldn’t have told you,” he mumbles regretfully.

You meet his eyes, lips parted in surprise.

“What?” you say. “You should have told me. I don’t want you to suffer alone.”

“Suffer is a stretch,” he says with a small smile.

Again, you don’t laugh. The tension keeps thickening instead of easing, his heart hurting more instead of feeling lighter.

“Hey,” Zach says, placing a warm hand on your forearm, “listen, I just want us to be good again. We would have lost our jobs by now if they knew. They don’t. We’re fine. You’re still my girlfriend, right?”

“Of course.” You uncross your arms to hold his hand, saddened that he’s wary of the possibility of you giving up on him.

“So, let’s just move past this and enjoy what’s left of the summer.”

“And what happens next time I upset you?” you ask.

“I’ll tell you,” he says. You gaze at him, not sure if you can trust him.

“You will?” you ask.

It’s the first time he’d ever been on the receiving end of a critical look from you. His heart feels like it cracks down the middle.

This was the spark that catalyzed every break-up he’s gone through.

You’re kind of a pushover, Zach.

Why are you so scared of telling the truth?

You’re a nice guy, but you suck at communication.

It reminds him of when he was a kid, ridiculed for not using his voice, or really, not using it the way people wanted him to.

And it’s too much. Things with you were good and easy until you insisted on pulling his uncomfortable feelings out into the open.

Zach sighs your name, a subtle edge in his tone. He keeps his gaze on the floor, lips firming, grip on your hand loosening.

Despite your intentions to understand him, to have an honest conversation, you realize that you’re doing what you tried to avoid. You’re pushing him.

“Okay. Sorry,” you whisper, moving your hand away.

“This is why I don’t say anything,” he admits. “Because now you’re beating yourself up. I’ll be fine. I am fine.”

“Zach, if I hurt you, you deserve an apology,” you tell him. “And you can’t get one if I don’t know what’s going on in your head.”

He runs his fingers through his hair again, wishing he could just go back to how things were a few days ago when you were kissing and touching and laughing together.

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know what to say.

You lick your lips before speaking again. Despite everything, you just want to make him feel better and to figure out what’s next.

“Ami didn’t mean to tell him,” you say. “But since other people heard him during the game, I think we should just get through the rest of this season without taking any risks. Does that work for you?”

The sinking feeling of rejection settles deep in him. Avoiding risk means that you want distance again. And this time will be different. He can feel it. Things between you are so obviously tense. You want space from him and not just because it could get you in trouble.

He swallows down the painful lump in his throat, pushing away the hurt.

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. “If you can resist me.”

Zach meets your eyes with a smile that you know isn’t genuine. You’ve figured out by now that making jokes is his defense mechanism. This time, you let him do what he needs to feel better.

This conversation only broke things down further than fixing them, but even though you’re exasperated, you don’t have it in you to leave him the way you did a few nights ago.

Zach’s muscles lose all their tension when you lean forward, your lips brushing against his. It’s the best reassurance you can give him.

When he kisses back, cradling your face in his hands, your heart hurts a little less. You pull away, staring into his soft blue eyes, surprised how you can mad at someone but also so eager to make them happy.

It’s because it’s Zach. The man who looks out for you, who puts your clothes back on for you after intimacy, who stresses over the very thought of even accidentally hurting you.

After you pull away, he gives you the first genuine smile since you got here. You squeeze his hand before you stand up to leave. He pulls you back for one last kiss.

The following Saturday is the most excited you’ve seen the kids. In the early morning, counselors and campers are set to depart the campground in school buses to a museum that’s currently running a sports science exhibit.

You’ve overheard the vets talk about how field trips are the most exhausting days of the season, but you welcome it. You want the distraction.

After guiding your campers onto your assigned bus, you settle in the first seat behind the driver. Your heart does a flip, somehow both happy and sad, when you realize that the counselor you’re sharing the bus with is Zach, the man you need a distraction from.

His brows raise when he comes up the steps, a smile appearing on his face before he guides kids to fill up the seats. Even though you left things sort of tense, it’s nice that he’s clearly happy to see you.

When he settles on the seat across the aisle from where you’re sitting, he crosses his arms and leans back against the window, biceps bulging under his t-shirt.

“How was the shift?” Zach asks. “The night before a field trip is always a wild card.”

It takes you a moment to realize he looked at the schedule to see you had an overnight shift. Of course he’s checking on you even when you’re not on the best terms.

“Not great,” you admit. One of the girls in your cabin had woken you up after she had a nightmare. You spent a long time calming her down and then had trouble falling back asleep yourself. “I’m thinking I should learn how to do monster checks.”

Zach grins. His heart warms whenever you reference something he’d told you. He loves that you remember his silly little routine with his sister.

“Do I have to teach you everything?” he says with a sigh.

You laugh and fight the impulse to shift over and sit next to him. Despite the fragile state you left things in, you miss touching him.

Throughout the bus ride, you’re both in lively conversation with the campers. You notice that Oliver clings to Zach, talking with other kids but always close to his counselor. He clearly has found comfort in him and of course, Zach shows him nothing but endless patience and kindness.

You can’t forget how he told you Oliver reminds him of himself when he was a kid. It hurts to picture Zach as a kid, shy and reserved, needing to stay close to an authority figure so he doesn’t get made fun of.

He admitted to you how he spent so much of his childhood sad. Somebody so sweet should never have to be sad.

You glance over at him to catch him staring at you.

“Making it obvious?” he says, echoing what you’d texted him when you teased him for the way he looked at you by the campfire many nights ago.

You wish you could go back to when you were still careless, sneaking around, no conflict wedged between you. But you only nod with a chuckle, looking away.

Minutes before you arrive at the museum, Zach stands and gets everyone’s attention. You gaze up at him as he goes through the rules and reminds everyone that they’re representing the camp today.

It gives you a moment to really take him in, your eyes travelling over his hard jaw and tousled hair. He’s easily the kindest, most charming man you’ve ever met.

He makes a joke about how this is his campers’ chance to prove that they’re better listeners than yours. You gasp and stand, encouraging your girls to prove Zach wrong.

Once you plop back down on your seat, you grab one of the granola bars you packed for the kids just to throw it at Zach. He feigns shock when it hits his chest with a light smack.

“That’s not representing our camp well at all,” he scoffs. He looks at the wrapper and smiles before he rips it. “Mixed berry. Nice.”

“Give it back,” you say.

He takes a bite, looking at you with a smirk.

“What? I didn’t hear that,” he says.

You can’t stifle your laugh when you look away. Zach keeps his eyes on you, imagining a world where he doesn’t have to be your boyfriend in secret. But he feels lucky to be your boyfriend at all.

When you arrive at the museum, you direct your campers in a hectic rush. You’re standing by the bathrooms, trying to keep your campers together, when Malcolm passes by.

“Having fun?” he jokes to you over the noise.

You chuckle awkwardly, considering it’s the first time you’ve spoken with him since the staff game. Ami had told you things with her and Malcolm ended amicably, but she’s been keeping her distance, and since you’re usually with her, you haven’t had any chance to talk to him.

“Loads,” you play along, looking out at the sea of kids through the lobby. After a few seconds, he looks around and kneels closer.

“Hey, my bad about everything,” he says. “I didn’t mean to start any drama.”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, sure he can read the regret on your face.

“I was kidding around,” Malcolm explains. “Nobody would believe he’d actually break the rules. You’re obviously special since he did.”

You know he said it to make you feel better, but it has the opposite effect. Without you here, Zach would’ve had another easy, stress-free season, instead of one full of sneaking around and risking his job and reputation.

“I guess so,” is all you can say with a forced laugh.

When it’s finally time to head back to the buses, you’re exhausted. You make sure all your campers are accounted for and you settle in the front seat, wishing it was more comfortable.

You sit with closed eyes, trying to rest while you can, chatter surrounding you.

Zach sits in the front, smirking to himself when he sees you. Your eyelids flutter open and you look around, adorably disoriented. You meet his gaze.

“I’m just resting my eyes,” you say with a sweet chuckle.

“Take a nap if you want,” he says. “I got this covered.”

You smile gratefully and close your eyes again. His eyes travel over your pretty face, taking you in, missing everything about you. He’s never wanted time to go by quickly this badly.

A few days later, the directors announce that there’ll be a comet passing over the campground next Saturday night, falling right in time with the season’s last fun day.

Tom asks Zach to run an errand into town to buy all the binoculars he can find. And because he’s respecting your wish to stay at a distance, Zach invites Malcolm to go with him instead of you.

It doesn’t take you and another first-year counselor, Theo, long to set up blankets on the grass behind the staff cabins on Saturday night.

You had rushed through your dinner and volunteered to do it. At the end of the day, it’d be nice to get a good reference from your bosses. Theo overheard and offered to help, making conversation as you set up.

When the campers and counselors come out, they settle across the field. Ami stands next to you as your eyes quickly find Zach, who’s handing out binoculars.

“Remember to share,” he says to a few kids close to you. He looks down at you as he passes by. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you say. It’s the first thing you’ve said to each other in a week.

“Get a room already,” Ami mumbles quietly after he leaves.

You snort a laugh. You wish.

Tom stands in front of everyone and shares facts about the comet, pointing to where it’ll be seen in the sky and telling everyone that it’ll be visible by binoculars for a few minutes, so there’s no need to fight over them.

You know the kids well enough to know they’ll still find a way to argue.

Once it’s time to search the skies, you gaze up at the stars on the off chance that you’ll see it without binoculars.

“Any luck?” Theo asks, staring up next to you, his binoculars over his eyes. You hear impressed ohh’s scatter over the crowd. “Whoa,” he says a second later.

“No,” you laugh.

He lowers his binoculars and hands them to you. You thank him and try to find the comet, but you can’t see anything but stars through the lenses.

“I can’t see it,” you tell him sadly.

“Here - can I?” Theo says, his hands hovering over your shoulders.

“Sure.” You let him guide you to adjust your angle, his palms firm on your shoulders.

“I think you need to look just a little higher,” he says. You follow his instructions and then you see it. A bright circle with a pale streak of light following it. It’s beautiful.

“Wow,” you say with a big smile.

Everyone’s gazing up at the sky except for Zach. He’s looking at you smiling while Theo has his hands on your shoulders. Another man is touching his girlfriend and she looks happy while he does it.

He shakes his head to himself as frustrating jealousy squeezes his heart. Staying away from you has been tough, but watching someone else touch you is on another level of agony.

After the comet passes, everyone packs up for the night. The kids are still chatting about how cool the comet was as they make their way to the camper cabins.

Ami leaves your cabin for her overnight shift while you shower. You gaze up at the ceiling as you wash your hair, wondering how you already have only seven sleeps left before the end of the season.

On Saturday, parents are arriving to pick up their children and staff will pack up their things and the season will be over. It’s been a long summer, but you’re happy you came – you made money, rekindled your love for soccer, and best of all, met Zach.

You still haven’t spoken with him about what dating will look like when you’re done here, considering your colleges are an hour apart. But at least you don’t have to worry about getting fired anymore. You’re sure it would have left a mark on your relationship.

You settle on your bed in your pajamas, scrolling on your phone for some downtime. Minutes later, there’s a knock on your door.

It’s Zach. And there’s a fire in his eyes that you haven’t seen before.

“Hi,” you say softly.

“It doesn’t work for me anymore,” he says gruffly.

“What?”

“Not being with you doesn’t work for me anymore.”

You stare at him with parted lips, heat rushing through your body in seconds.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Watching another guy get close to you is too much, okay?” he says. “You’re my girlfriend.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, recollecting all that happened since the last time you spoke. He seemed fine when he greeted you earlier tonight. Who got close to you since then?

It comes to you in an instant. Theo helped guide you to spot the comet.

“That wasn’t anything,” you tell him.

“It was to me,” he says, the jealousy still ripping through him. “I don’t care who knows about us. I want him to know.”

It’s like he’s another man, not the Zach you know. His lustful stare and his dominating presence and his possessiveness are making your heart pound. Instead of the tension that’s been following you for the past two weeks, the air between you is electric, full of burning anticipation that you’ve both been trying to avoid.

You don’t care about how things were left. And you know you shouldn’t do this. But you’ve never been good at ignoring your impulses when it comes to him.

“Come in,” you say.

Zach doesn’t need to hear another word. Once the door’s shut behind him, his lips meet yours. You tremble under his hot, hard kiss.

His hands are firm against your jaw, gripping you as if you’ll slip away. Your breaths start to quicken as you kiss deeper, his hands pushing you back towards your bed.

Feeling you again, tasting you is an overwhelming relief. It’s like he’s home again. His body is buzzing, his boxers starting to feel tight already.

You let him guide you on your bed, his commanding frame leaning over as you settle on your back. His mouth trails to your throat, kissing you as you cup the back of his neck.

“I’m yours, okay, baby?” you whisper.

Your words make him moan against your skin, his hips bucking against you. He’s been dreaming about this for too long. Once he’s had you, having to keep you at a distance and act like you’re nothing but coworkers is torture.

Desire takes over you, your hand trailing to feel him over his sweatpants. Simply pressing your palm against his hard bulge makes you involuntarily writhe beneath him.

You’ve never had your mouth on him the way he had his mouth on you and now, you desperately want to please him, to show him how he’s the only one you want.

“I miss you so much,” Zach whines. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“I know. Me, too,” you reassure him. “Lie on your back for me.”

You obeys, letting you perch over him as you kiss him, but he can’t let go of control, not all the way. He pulls your shirt up, a groan of pleasure leaving his mouth when he sees that you’re braless.

You tug your shirt over your head and he roughly pulls you closer by the waist, giving him access to your bare chest, kneading and kissing.

You arch your back, moaning in pleasure as he sucks at your skin. You’re already aching for him, knees growing weak, biting your lip as he tongues you.

It takes all your willpower to pull back, but you shift lower to tug at his sweatpants. He shuffles to let you pull down his pants and boxers in one movement, his cock springing out.

He heatedly takes his shirt off, giving you the view of his naked body that you’ve missed so much.

Zach’s breath hitches when you lean to hold him at his base. Your lips are torturously close to the head of his cock.

“You don’t have to,” he says, his voice thick and hushed. You smile at him. There’s the man you know and love, checking in on you, making sure you’re comfortable.

“I want to,” you say. When you shift to kiss him on his tip, he shudders. This is all he needs, to know you want every part of him, like he wants every part of you.

You swirl your hot tongue over him and he throws his head back in pleasure, eyes squeezing shut. But he wants to watch. He wants to see how you look pleasing him like this.

He meets your eyes as you lock your lips around his length. His head is swimming watching you slowly take him in, pacing yourself, getting his cock wet with your spit.

You pull back with a smack of your lips, stroking him, eyes hard on him.

“Why would I even look at another guy when I have you?” you ask. Zach’s sure he’s never felt this good in his entire life.

You take him in your mouth again, sucking as you start to gently bob up and down. You breathe slowly as you lower to reach his base, quietly gagging when you take him all the way.

Your hot mouth tight around him makes pure euphoria flood his system.

“That’s so good,” he says, strained. “Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

He lowers his hand to gently lace his fingers through the roots of your hair, applying no pressure, simply just wanting to hold you.

You pull back, your wrist slowly twisting as you pump. The sight of you like this, your lips glossy and your eyes lustful and your fingers wrapped around him, is unlike anything he’s ever experienced.

“You deserve to feel good,” you whisper.

He’s not sure he agrees based on the way he acted the last time you talked in his cabin, but you silence his thoughts when you take him in your mouth again, cheeks hollowing.

Zach’s groans are strained and his breaths are shallow as you suck and lick. The sounds of your mouth against him are near perfection. He knows what’s really perfect is the feeling of being buried deep inside you, both of you wrapped in bliss.

He’s still feeling the flame of jealousy and so badly needs to show you how much you’re his and how much he’s yours. He finds the strength to gently pull your mouth off of him by your roots.

You meet his stare, letting him take full control as he guides you onto your back. The sight of him standing over you, tongue running over his bottom lip as he pulls down your pajama bottoms and panties makes arousal pool in your gut.

Zach leans over, chest heaving and cheeks flushed as one arm holds him up and the other dips between your legs, fingers firmly dragging up and down.

“Tell me only I get to see you like this,” he rasps.

“Only you,” you praise. His touch grants you such elation that you start to feel dizzy. “And only you get to touch me.”

His jaw clenches at your words. He traces circles on your clit, gazing down at you as your breath catches.

“You like how I touch you?” he says.

“Yes,” you moan. “You’re so good at it. You’re so good at everything.”

Zach lowers to kiss you, tongue pressing into your mouth the same moment his finger dips into you. You writhe under his touch, the pressure of his finger inside of you making you moan again.

“More?” he whispers, the pad of his middle finger nudging against your entrance.

“More.”

He slowly sinks a second finger into you, groaning at how tight and wet you are around him. He starts to slowly pump in and out, curling his fingers at the hilt, pulling back just enough to watch your expression.

His movements are slow and firm, and when he starts to rub your clit with his thumb, you clutch his shoulders in deep pleasure.

“Like that,” you whisper. “My good boy.”

The praise makes him feel like he might go insane in the best way. He can’t take the ache anymore. He pulls his fingers out, shifting to grab a condom from your drawer.

You watch him through heavy lids, taking in how perfect every inch of him is, spreading your legs so he can get inside you as soon as possible. Zach lines up against you as he lies over you, his throbbing tip gently pressing against you.

“Ready?” he whispers.

You don’t answer, hungrily gripping the backs of his hips to pull him forward. He groans, in heaven from how much you want him.

He sinks into you completely and it’s a flawless type of pain having to adjust to him so quickly. He pulls back and thrusts back into you hard, lips against yours, mouths open.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, both of you already sweaty, and you pant together as his slams fill you over and over, jolting you, your bed shaking.

“You’re my good girl,” he whispers through sighs. “Mine only.”

Your moans tangle with his, your soft heat squeezes him, and when you wrap your legs around his hips, he wants to live in the moment forever.

Zach knows he loves you. And he knows he has to wait to say it because he’d hate for you to feel pressured to say it back. If he’s lucky, when it’s time, you’ll say it back.

He grinds against your clit with steady friction and he fills you with hard pressure, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“I’m gonna…” you breathe, clenching around him. You can’t finish your sentence, losing your voice as you come, sparks firing through your body.

Feeling you flutter around him is what sends him over the edge, kissing you as he unravels, hips stuttering with sloppy thrusts as his body releases all the tension and hunger and love he has for you.

He collapses on top of you, still hard and inside you, leaving soft kisses on the corner of your lips.

When he finds the strength to stand and clean himself up, he comes back to bed with a warm, damp towel, kissing your bent knee as he gently wipes you, letting you stay on your back and come down from your high.

Zach eventually lies down next to you, cradling your jaw, thumb rubbing over your cheekbone as you gaze at each other.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry things were weird with us. I’m sorry I’m so bad at talking about things sometimes.”

You meet his eyes, gently raking his messy hair back, remembering how it’s the first thing you noticed about him.

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry I pushed. I get if it’s hard for you. I just want us to be honest with each other.”

“I was mad,” he admits. “And I already hate being mad, but being mad at you just felt so wrong. I know you didn’t mean for it to come out.”

“Why do you hate being mad, baby?”

“Because I just… I feel weak.”

“Weak?”

“Like I should be able to change the way I’m thinking about it,” he says. “I should be more understanding.”

You let out a soft giggle, kissing the tip of his nose.

“You’re the most understanding person I know,” you tell him. “You can’t control how you feel.”

“I think I feel too much,” Zach confesses. His heart is pounding again. He’s never been so raw with somebody. But the deep adoration in your eyes makes the vulnerability less scary.

“You feel the perfect amount,” you tell him. “Your heart is big and that’s not a flaw.”

He leans closer, kissing you tenderly.

“Please tell me next time,” you whisper. “What’d you say when I didn’t tell you I was sick? I have to let you know when I don’t feel well? It goes both ways.”

He chuckles and kisses you again.

“I will,” he says. “All I’ve been thinking about is you and how I screwed up and how I don’t want to screw up again.”

“All I’ve been thinking about is you and how I can’t wait to be your girlfriend without having to hide it.”

A bigger smile grows on his lips, his eyes softening at your words. You’re a pure ray of sunshine in his life. For once, he’s confident a girl will stick around when she sees just how messy his head can get.

“How often are we going to be seeing each other when we’re out of here, huh?” you ask. “We have a whole hour between us.”

“The distance from your cabin to mine is already hard enough,” he says. You laugh hard and he realizes just how much he missed the sound. “Every weekend, at least.”

“Deal,” you say. At that moment, your stomach lets out a hungry growl and you sigh a chuckle. “I rushed through dinner and I don’t think I ate enough.”

He sits up, collecting your clothes off the bed. You laugh when you watch him tugging your panties over your ankles.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re sneaking into the kitchen,” he says. “You’re not gonna be hungry on my watch.”

The night air is cool as you make your way towards the dining hall. Sure enough, Zach finds a few snacks in the kitchen cabinets to satiate you, sitting on the counter next to you, chatting about what your class schedules will look like when the school year starts.

You get lost in conversation, and an hour later, you’re both almost dozing off. You decide to finally head to bed, rushing out of the hall and towards the staff cabins, hand in hand.

Your shoes crunch against the gravel path past the campground office so loudly that you almost don’t hear your name called.

You rip your hand out of Zach’s and turn to see one of your campers, Jemma, standing close by.

“Hey,” you say, almost frozen in anxiety. She definitely saw you and Zach holding hands. “Why are you out of your cabin?”

“I woke up,” she says with a shrug. “And I couldn’t fall back asleep so I wondered if I could see any more comets. Were you guys just holding hands?”

You don’t know what to say. You clear your throat and shuffle closer to her.

“I’ll walk you back, okay?” you say. “You’re not supposed to be out at night without a counselor.”

You drop Jemma off, the whole walk over filled with you avoiding her questions and asking her about anything you can think of. Zach is in your cabin get back, his eyes wide.

He said he didn’t care who knew earlier tonight, but you know he was overtaken by his emotions. You can tell by his expression that he’s tense. This is bad.

“She saw us,” he says, almost robotically.

“She saw us,” you confirm. You sit next to him on your bed. You figure you should lay it out on the open. “And she loves to talk. And it’s not appropriate to ask her to keep a secret. She’ll tell her friends.”

“I have to tell my aunt and uncle,” he says, “before they hear from one of the kids.”

You meet his eyes. The happiness you were feeling is deflated now, overtaken by dread. You have to accept that your worst fear just came true.

“We have to tell them,” you say. Tears prick at your eyes. “I’ll go with you. I’m so sorry. This screws everything up for you.”

“No,” he says. “I said you were worth the risk and I meant it. I knew going into it that this could happen. It happened. We’ll deal with it.”

“You’re really okay?” you ask.

“I’m weirdly relieved,” Zach admits, looking at you with empathy. “Are you okay? You could get fired.”

“Your job became more important to me than mine a long time ago,” you tell him. “You have more on the line. That’s why I feel so bad.”

“I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with you. I’d do it all again even if I knew it’d end like this.”

“You’re not going to see me as the girl that ruined this place for you?”

“Baby,” he says with a disbelieving exhale. “Of course not. You’re the best part of this place.”

“Really?”

“One hundred and five percent,” he says with a smile, reminding you of how he’d answered the same way when you asked if he’s sure he wants to start secretly dating.

His sweetness is what makes your tears finally fall. He kisses you softly, shushing you and rubbing your back as you dig your head into his chest. You stay like that until you feel too tired to sit up any longer.

The next day, you and Zach meet at the campground office before breakfast as planned. He’s the most nervous you’ve ever seen him as he turns the handle and enters the room, greeting Ruby as she types at her laptop on a circular table.

“Can we sit for a second?” Zach asks.

“Of course,” she says. “What brings you in?”

You settle next to him at the other end of the table, realizing your knees are bouncing in anxiety. He told you he’d take the lead. You glance at his profile, glad he’s still as calm as he seemed last night.

“We, uh…” He looks at you. “We kind of broke the no dating rule. And last night, Jemma saw us holding hands. I wanted to come to you before you heard from anyone else. I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” you say, meeting her eyes nervously. “I’m really sorry. And I completely understand if you need to let me go. But please give Zach a little grace.”

“What?” he mumbles. You hadn’t talked about doing this.

“He loves it here,” you tell your boss, the words spilling out of you. “I’m sure you know that already. I’ve never seen someone so passionate about a place. He respects and admires you and Tom so much. The way he talks about this camp and the way he enjoys the job is part of why I’ve grown to love it so much. He’ll be crushed if this ruins his reputation and if he can’t come back to work here. I know I’m in no position to ask for anything, but please spare him.”

“Hey,” Zach says to you softly. He’s so moved that if he didn’t already know he loved you, this would be the moment that sealed it. “It’s okay. I deserve to lose my job.”

“Zach,” Ruby says. You both look at her. “Sweetheart. You really think I didn’t know?”

“What?” you and Zach say in perfect unison.

“I’ve known you all your life,” she says. “I can spot when something’s up with you from a mile away.”

“Wait… what?” he says again. “How? Since when?”

“You’re not one to get mad at the kids for little things. But then we had that barbecue and you,” she says, eyes landing on you, “got hurt because some campers were rough-housing.”

You feel for the now healed burn on your forearm.

“Tom told me all about it, how uncharacteristically angry and worried you got,” Ruby tells Zach, “and then it took less than a day to confirm my suspicions. You really don’t know how obvious you are. You smile like you just won the lottery whenever she’s around.”

You feel your face go hot, butterflies swarming in your stomach. It’s the second time someone’s said Zach seems extra happy around you.

“So, you knew?” he says. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed,” she says with a shrug. “I figured you’d do a good enough job hiding it from everyone. And I’d never fire you. You’re a… what’s Malcolm call it? A nepo baby?”

“Hey,” he says with a relieved laugh.

“Kidding,” she says, eyes darting to you. “I treat all my staff equally. And we’ve never actually fired anyone for dating. We just strongly discourage it because of things like last night. It’s inappropriate if campers see any sort of PDA.”

“We were just holding hands for a second, I swear,” Zach says.

“I know,” she sighs. “But no more cutesy stuff, got it?”

“Got it,” he says. “So we’re not fired?”

“Just go to breakfast and let me enjoy my coffee,” she says with a small smile.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

As you and Zach head out, Ruby calls him back for a moment. You wait outside for him to make sure everything’s okay.

Zach closes the door behind him, expecting a verbal lashing.

“I like her for you,” Ruby says. He beams, unbelievably relieved.

“You’re really not disappointed?” he asks. He should have known his kind-hearted aunt would be so compassionate.

“Honey, I’m happy,” Ruby says. “Even you need to break rules sometimes. You must really like her if you decided to stop being a goody two-shoes for once.”

“I do,” he says confidently. “And I am not a goody two-shoes.”

“Debatable,” she teases.

When he steps out of the office, you share a sigh of relief, laughing.

“What’d she say?” you ask.

“Changed her mind. I am, in fact, fired.”

You scoff, nudging his shoulder.

“Hey, no touching allowed,” Zach laughs. “Save it for after lights out.”

“Shh,” you laugh, looking around in case anyone heard. “Have you learned nothing?”

He smirks at you.

“Thanks for saying that stuff about me back there,” he says.

“It’s all true,” you reply.

The last week of camp is the fastest of them all. Gossip spreads about you and Zach, but you just deny it whenever kids bring it up, both saying you’re just friends.

Packing up your cabin and saying goodbye at the end of the season is one of the hardest things you’ve done all summer.

Two Months Later

The triple whistle blow signals the end of the game. You’re absolutely spent, hands on your knees, so tired that you can’t even celebrate that you’d just beat an unbeatable team.

Last year, they beat you every single time, but now, you look up at the scoreboard to see your score at 3, and the visitors’ score at 2. Soon enough, your teammates pull you into a hug, the air buzzing with pride and excitement.

The hot shower you take in the locker room after the game is unbelievably rewarding.

You beam when you see Zach standing by the stadium front doors. His face lights up the moment he sees you.

“You were amazing,” he says, pulling you in for a hug and taking your heavy duffle bag for you as the crowds exiting the building surround you. “Did you hear the crowd when you nailed that one tackle in the second half? I was so proud that I told the guy beside me that you’re my girlfriend.”

You laugh, perching up on your toes to quickly kiss him.

“And what’d he say?” you ask.

“He just looked at me like this,” he says, pulling an annoyed expression. You laugh again. “Baby, you killed it. Best defense I’ve ever seen.”

“Now you’re pushing it,” you chuckle.

“I’m serious,” he says. “You’re amazing. Who’d you train with? Obviously a pro.”

“Alright,” you roll your eyes, smiling.

“I mean it. And five.”

You lace your fingers in his, grinning. The more you opened up to each other, learning about how hard it can be for Zach to express his difficult emotions, ‘and five’ became your way to assure each other you mean what you’re saying, a silly reference to how he loves to say ‘one hundred and five percent.’

‘And five’ is your way of saying you promise. That you’re sure. That there’s no reason to doubt anything.

“Wow, and five?” you say. “So, you’re not just trying to flatter me before dinner.”

Zach grins, pulling you in for a hug. You’re set to go to his house to meet his family after you get ready in your dorm.

“You’re sure you’re not too tired?” he asks.

“I don’t care how tired I am,” you say. “I can’t wait to meet them. And seeing Tom and Ruby again will be nice.”

The MacLarens’ house is warm and welcoming, just as you expected. You feel like you already know his parents and sister within minutes and when Zach’s aunt and uncle arrive, it’s comforting to see them, knowing they already like you.

Throughout dinner, Tom and Ruby tease Zach for how obviously lovestruck he was at work all summer. Even his sister joins in, calling him cheesy.

“I hope you know we’re all just joking, sweetie,” Zach’s mother says to you quietly, clearly a bit worried you’ll think they’re being too harsh on your boyfriend.

“I do,” you say kindly. In the time you’ve been together, you’ve joked with Zach that teasing seems to be his love language. It’s sweet seeing him at home, joking with his family, looking up at you every so often to make sure you’re having a good time.

After you say your goodbyes, Zach drives you to your dorm. He pulls up to your building, the back of your hand warm from where he’s been resting his palm.

Every time you’re in his car, you think about the first time you were in it back in the summer, going into town, getting to know him. You’ve been in it so many times since then, driving around and playing your favorite songs.

“Well, thank you again,” you say, relieved to have heard he knows his family loved you, just as he suspected. “I had fun.”

“You fit right in,” Zach says. He hopes it’s not too much, but the longer he’s been with you, the less scared he is of being too much.

You smile at him, proving him right. He doesn’t have to hold back.

“I was thinking something,” he says, “when I was looking at you at dinner.”

“What?”

“That I always knew that things between us didn’t go so fast because of the whole forbidden thing,” he tells you. “They’d go that fast anyway. For me, at least.”

You smile, relieved to hear it. You spent so much of the camp season wondering if the rule you were both living under was the reason things escalated the way they did.

You’ve talked about the summer, reminiscing on your memories, laughing over your favorite moments, finding it hilarious how stressed you both were about the bosses finding out about you when they already knew, but you never dove into how fast your relationship went.

“You have no idea how nice it is to hear that,” you say. “I agree. I would’ve been just as crazy about you if we met outside of work.”

“Me, too,” he says, his dimples caving into his cheeks as he gazes at you. He takes a deep breath, bringing your hand up to his mouth, kissing your palm. “I love you. And you don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know.”

“I love you, too,” you say, feeling weightless. “Obviously.”

“Yeah?” Zach doesn’t know when his heart started pounding this hard, but it’s thudding in his ears.

“Yeah,” you say. “And five.”

He leans close and kisses you over and over, just like he did the first night on the dock.

But this time, instead of saying that you should stop and that this isn’t allowed and that you could get in trouble every time your lips part, you’re whispering that you love each other.

(the end)

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#zach maclaren and you #zach maclaren and y/n #zach maclaren and reader #zach maclaren x y/n #zach maclaren x you #zach maclaren x reader #zach maclaren

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kykyonthemoon · 9 months ago

Text

How to romance the lovely Miss Hunter

By finding out the tropes you like to read in romance novels, he might know just how you would like this love to be.

ಇ. Character x Reader/MC

Included parts in order: Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne, Caleb

ಇ. Tags: soft, sweet, fluff, cheesy (it's a warning), teasing, established relationship (except for Caleb's part), roleplaying (with Rafayel), jealousy (Xavier being jealous with his other identity - Lumiere), mentioned of all the romance tropes I like to write about, childhood friends to lovers, adopted brother and sister, princess and her merman slave, damsel in distress.

ಇ. Word count: 4k3

ಇ. Requested by Krys.

ಇ. Masterlist

ಇ. Request

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

"What have you done just now?! "That was my first kiss."

The princess exclaimed. She then covered her lips with her fingers and concealed her face behind the veil that had just been removed.

The attractive mermaid, with his bare chest revealed beneath the water, smiled, half cold, half alluring. He migrated close to to the Princess and declared:

“Now you are mine.”

The book in Rafayel’s hand rolled from the sofa to the floor, and he began laughing uncontrollably, crawling even. You seized the book in anger, folded it flat, and requested:

“Please stop.”

Rafayel covered his lips with a palm and smiled. His eyes shone with tears, his cheeks went scarlet, and his stomach ached from laughing so hard. He leaned absolutely back on the sofa and gazed at you.

"Your Highness, you do have a hobby of reading such cheesy love stories."

Rafayel replicated the dialogue from the book, making you even more enraged. You shot him a stare.

"Hmm." You gripped the book hard in your hands. Ever since he caught you reading this romantic novel inspired by the legend of Lemuria, Rafayel had been teasing you by reenacting passages from the written scenes, but in a sardonic style that left you flush with embarrassment.

"Your Highness, where are you heading to?" Rafayel grabbed your wrist as you turned to go. "Do not forget that now, you are mine."

Rafayel restrained another chuckle. You violently yanked free from his grip.

“I'm… sorry…” Rafayel cleared his throat. He eventually came to the decision to stop this childish game.

"With the exception of a few references to Lemurian mythology, the rest are too… much. The author has let her imagination wander too far.”

"You are insulting other people's interests!" You frowned and responded. "I enjoy reading passionate love stories like this. Is there a problem with it?”

Rafayel stared at you with an expression of pain. You were the one who got furious, so why did he appear to be more upset?

“If you wish to learn about Lemuria, wouldn't it be better to just ask me directly? You don't need to read stories like that.”

The book in your hand was titled The Lemurian Kiss. The plot focused on a handsome mermaid and the princess he was forced to obey. Tara first exposed you to it, which piqued your interest. Then you were absorbed in the love and resentment, as if it was your own narrative from another life.

Rafayel hated it. Yet you did not understand, if he disliked it so much, why did he even bother to read it more attentively than yourself? Even when he tormented you with passages from the narrative that made you blush, you had to concede that he had read and comprehended it better than you could.

Perhaps it was due to his Lemurian ancestry. Perhaps he had heard a similar story elsewhere in his long life. You had no idea how long he had lived, and you understood very little about Lemurians. Indeed, when you bought this book, you anticipated it to disclose more about his kind than he was eager to share.

Suddenly, you came up with an idea. You gave up attempting to get out of Rafayel's grip. To his astonishment, you crouched down closer to him, giving him no opportunity to sit up. A hand rested on Rafayel's chest, gently forcing him down into the sofa.

"So? Will you tell your beloved princess all the secrets of Lemuria then?"

You altered your voice to seem icy and pompous, like the princess in the tale. Your gaze fixed on Rafayel's, making it impossible for him to ignore you. He was completely taken aback by your abrupt shift in attitude.

“You… What are you doing?”

“Is that how you speak to a princess?”

You appeared unsatisfied, and before Rafayel attempted to get up, you opted to sit on top of him.

“Ouch! That's painful!" He shouted. “You're so heavy! Get off!”

"How insolent of you!" You grabbed Rafayel's chin so he could obediently stay down in place. "I'll have your scales peeled off for daring to insult my weight like this."

He snorted coldly while he was still pinned down on the sofa. "That's it! You're bullying me!"

"Isn't this your favorite scene from the story? When the merman attempted to flee, the princess sat on him. I'm merely offering help since I see you immersing yourself so much in the role from the story there.”

Rafayel's sullen attitude brought you a delicious triumph. He turned his face away, as if he was upset at being bullied. He stated:

“It's best that you don't read these kinds of stories anymore!”

Pleased, you softly patted his cheeks as he puffed them up like a toddler. You stood up, satisfied, and said:

“I'm going to let it slide. Next time, don't tease me like that anymore."

But Rafayel showed obvious disappointment. He grasped your wrist.

“Is that all?”

"Huh?"

“Are you really going to leave?” He grumbled. “You are not dedicated to the role you play after all.”

Rafayel sat up immediately, then he pulled you down on the sofa and in a blink of an eye, you were in his arms. “Once you start a role, you have to be committed to it.”

Rafayel's long fingers slid down the bridge of your nose, then paused at your lips. You held your breath, looking at him, waiting.

“Her Highness loses interest too quickly.”

You grinned, recalling the personal passages between the two main protagonists in the novel. Sometimes you put yourself and Rafayel in it. How astonishing that this was truly happening.

“Entertain me then. Would you?”

Your clear voice rang out. Your fingertips had rendered Rafayel's face red, and you could hear his heart pounding furiously in your ear.

“I can grant all your wishes.” Rafayel held your hand and placed it on his chest, then began to kiss you. First your hair, then your forehead, a lingering kiss on the tip of your nose, and finally he stopped for a moment at your lips. “I can even make you forget all the cheesy things a human wrote about Lemurians in that book.”

Rafayel's fingers gently parted your lips a little. Yet still left you hanging.

“After all, Her Highness needs not a work of fiction, when she already has a true Lemurian, in the flesh, right here.”

At that moment, the merman offered the princess a long-awaited kiss, as if reconnecting an incomplete romance from the past life.

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓

Those days, Xavier noticed how you often had your nose buried in a book. It was nothing like daily life science research, nor was it like the ones you would usually read. It was brand new, with a silver mask on the cover.

He also realized another thing, that you always laughed to yourself while reading it. Occasionally, you would give him a covert glance, then go back to bury yourself in the pages of the book and smile. Other times, you would hold the entire open book in your hands and roll around on the bed with immense excitement, which he could not comprehend.

Then, one day, he picked it up, that thick large book. What caught his eye was the title of the story: Moonlight Lover. He rolled his eyes.

Xavier's slightly trembling fingers opened the book in a slow motion. The page you were reading was marked with a lovely tiny star-shaped bookmark. He failed to take his eyes off the words presented under the light.

“My beautiful lady, fear not! I have come for you. I will protect you with my life.”

“Oh, my Lumiere…”

A very complicated expression appeared on Xavier's face. He read on, and the next paragraphs perplexed him.

In the midst of fierce battle, Lumiere gave his lover a passionate kiss. Time stopped, the moonlight shone on two hearts in perfect harmony. Right at the climax, you walked in. With a haste you snatched the book from his hands.

“This… is mine!”

You hid it behind your back. Your face turned red as if you had just done something so embarrassing.

"You… Why have you read my book?"

"You…" Xavier was ready to say something, but hesitated. His look remained stunned, as if he had just witnessed something so horrific that he could not speak. Yet that may be true.

"Tara let me borrow this book!" You spoke fast, not daring to look him in the eyes. "She said this… this is the best-selling romance novel in Linkon…"

"I see." Xavier responded. "Do you like reading romantic stories?"

"S-Sometimes…" You murmured. With the book in your hand, you swiftly turned to the bookshelf and placed it there. As you turned around, you nearly ran into Xavier. When did he come to stand right behind you? "Oops!"

"S-Sometimes…" You murmured. With the book in your hand, you swiftly turned to the bookshelf and placed it there. As you turned around, you nearly ran into Xavier. When did he arrive to stand directly behind you? "Oops!"

You exclaimed with surprise. You promptly drew away. Your back was ready to collide with the bookshelf, but Xavier's extensive hand saved you.

His face was so close. Somehow, you imagined that behind a silver mask, he would look just like Lumiere, which was bizarre.

"Xavier…" You quietly uttered his name, indicating that you were safe and that he could let you free. Yet Xavier held you even tighter.

“Do you like Lumiere that much?” He questioned abruptly, his expression not even trying to cover his evident sulking.

“Lumiere… It's merely fiction…” You defended.

“What do you like about him? His flashy appearance? Or his way of flirting with the female lead?”

Xavier's face stiffened. You caught his eyes gradually darken.

“In stories like this,” you clarified. “The male lead often appears just as the main protagonist is in peril to defend her. I simply appreciate their love..."

You could feel Xavier's heavy breathing on your cheek. His hand, which was previously on your back, then moved down to your hip, pushing you towards him so that your bodies were pressed against each other.

“I do the same too, don't I?” Xavier's voice was calm and soft, yet contained so much bitterness. “I will always defend you. I'm always there when you need me."

“Yes… That is true…” You replied, casting a quick glance at him. He rested his chin on your head and wrapped his arms around you in secure, as if afraid Lumiere would appear and take you away at any moment.

“So, me and Lumiere, who do you like more?”

Xavier's question left you hanging in confusion. Before you could respond, he added:

“Lumiere cannot hold you like this. He cannot be there whenever you call. He cannot hang out with you. Cannot be close to you… like this…”

A kiss from Xavier landed on your bare shoulder. You felt dizzy after being embraced with such force. You gasped:

“Erm… Lumiere is a… a legend… Even if he's real… he's probably a lot older than me…”

Xavier sighed deeply once more. He leaned in toward you and pushed you closer to the bookshelf.

“Then tell me. Do you like me more, or him?"

Just when you thought everything was settled, Xavier continued to ask that question. You knew all too well that you could not get out of this situation if you refused to give him the answer he needed. Yet the look on his face made you want to taunt him even more.

“Well, let's see. Lumiere has a luxury attire, exceptional abilities, and—”

Without waiting for you to finish the sentence, Xavier's lips locked your mouth. His kisses were always as gentle as his demeanor, but this was more intense than ever. You were held in his arms, lips devoured by him to the point that every breath slowly left you, your body and heart trembling as you were forced to surrender to him in such a manner.

When Xavier let you go, your mind already went blank. Who was Lumiere again? You no longer remembered. You could not recall.

Xavier gazed down at you, his lips parted slightly into a smile. He removed the book off the shelf and placed it back in your hands.

“Return it to Tara once you're done reading.”

He turned away. At that moment, you concluded that you could read every love story ever written in this world, but the one true male protagonist in your life could only be Xavier.

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆

There was a book café established on the same street as Akso Hospital recently. And so you have found another place to go while waiting for a certain doctor to finish his shift.

Originally, you intended to pass the time by sipping a drink and munching some sweets. Yet you had no idea that you would also be drawn into the pages of books there, especially a very thrilling love story about a man. The doctor who led two divergent lifestyles.

He was a doctor at an esteemed hospital, also a cold-blooded killer who must conceal his identity from the person he loved. Right from the very first lines, you were drawn into the story that was both tragic and sensational. Especially when the main character resembled a doctor whom you admired. You were so absorbed in reading that you failed to notice the time. You went around the café, holding the book in your hands, and read without paying attention to the world. As a consequence, you ran into someone.

“Zayne?” You cried out in surprise. He stared at you first, then at the book on the floor. He leaned down to pick it up.

“The secrets of Doctor Li?” Zayne read the title aloud. In a haste you used your hands to protect the book from his inquisitive gaze. When he returned it, you clutched it securely against your chest and purposefully turned the cover toward you.

“Well… This is…” You searched for an explanation. “My reference book…”

"Is that so?" Zayne's eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Another one of your reference books?”

You were perplexed while recalling that you had lately left another book in Zayne's office. Of course, you claimed that it helped you understand more about the medical field, and he had pointed out some of its factual misunderstandings. This time, just by looking at the cover, Zayne understood precisely what type of books you were reading, and they had nothing to do with medicine.

“I thought medical books were supposed to be displayed on the other side of the coffee shop, right?” Zayne replied nonchalantly.

“Ah… It was a bit crowded over there, so I moved to this area…”

Zayne turned around to look at the other side of the café. There was not a single person seen. On the contrary, the place you had chosen had more readers.

Realizing what a mistake you had made, you quickly pulled Zayne's hand out of there. “Let's go, Doctor Zayne! I've been waiting for you and now I'm hungry!”

A few days later, you caught Zayne intently reading something at his desk. Moving closer, you recognized the very familiar cover of the book almost immediately.

“The secrets of Doctor Li?! So you're reading it?"

Being caught in the act by you, since you had decided to come to the hospital on your lunch break that day without a notice, Zayne could only chuckle. He covered half of his face with the book, leaving only his eyes visible behind the pair of glasses. You knew he was adjusting the muscles around his face.

“Yes. Hello."

"You. Are. Reading. This. Too!" You uttered every single word as if this was a big deal.

Zayne calmly lowered the book, closed then placed it neatly on the table. He replied:

“I also want to refer to some things from there.”

You appeared perplexed. “Didn't you say that this book is wrong in even basic healthcare knowledge?”

Zayne's serene demeanor belied a sense of perplexity in his gaze. His eyes never lied. He immediately turned away.

"Medical expertise is not what I am looking for in it."

“What is it then?” You placed a hand on your chin thoughtfully. “Is there anything that even Doctor Know-It-All Zayne has to learn from love stories? Unless it's…”

You abruptly discontinued talking. It appeared you already knew the answer.

Zayne glanced at you for a brief moment. He pursed his lips, but it was evident he was smiling.

“People easily find what they want in fiction.” He explained. “For instance, if a girl likes to read romance, then she is waiting for such a sweet love story.”

“That doesn't sound like something Doctor Zayne would say.” You inquired once again: "Are those actually Yvonne's words?"

You guessed, given that you just witnessed the nurse passing the identical book to Doctor Greyson in the corridor.

Zayne confessed that Yvonne had suggested that he read the romantic novels you enjoyed to better understand you.

Zayne admitted that Yvonne had hinted that he should read the type of romance novels you liked to understand you better.

“I've never dated anyone before.” Zayne did not look you in the eye, but his fingers were squeezing your hand as he stood up. “At the start of our relationship, I had certain concerns. I'd want to know which type of partner you prefer, or how you wish to be loved."

You could not hold back the happy smile on your lips anymore. The fact that Zayne was so open about what he was thinking like this was enough to bring you closer to him.

“You can just ask me. Just like how you would always answer my questions about anything.”

You took initiative to stand on tiptoe and wrapped your arms around Zayne's neck. He gently rubbed his nose against the tip of yours.

“I like to be loved by you in your own way,” you whispered very softly, just enough for the two of you to hear even though there was no one else in the office. “There is no need for any stereotypes. Just be yourself, because that's who I like.”

As soon as you finished speaking, you placed a gentle kiss on Zayne's cheek and added: "Do you find me easy to please?"

Zayne lifted you up and let your feet rest on his. “You are as easy to please as a three-year-old child. Just give you sweets and a few romance books, you would obediently sit still all day."

“As expected, the person who understands me best is certainly Doctor Zayne!”

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

During the summer, after graduating from high school and waiting for the official announcement from the Hunter Association, you spent the whole day lying at home resting. And, with so much spare time, you began re-reading literature that you had previously missed.

While you were giggling with a romance book in your hands, Caleb stepped in. He snatched it and said:

“Does Gran know you're still reading these things?”

“First,” you said. “Grandma is not at home. Second, I am old enough to read whatever I like now.”

You extended a hand towards Caleb, but he refused to give the book back. He quickly glanced at the cover, then looked at you with a serious expression.

“Pip-squeak, did you forget that I and Grandma had to confiscate your books?”

You crossed your arms over the chest and huffed at him. “Speaking of which, you were a snitch who told her about my books.”

“You stayed up all night reading until your eyes got dark circles.” Caleb laughed. “While you must focus on studying. Books like this will give you a false perspective on love. I'm just worried that any boy would say a few sweet words like in those stories, and you would give him your heart."

“Do you even know what I read?” You sighed. “But you got exactly what you wanted. I've graduated from high school without having had a single romance. Now give me back the book so I can continue daydreaming, okay?"

You sat up straight and were about to reach out to take the book back when he held it up higher. He shook his head.

"Not yet. I must read it first to ensure that this book is safe.”

He sat in another armchair and proceeded to open the book to the page you were already reading. Quick as lightning, you darted forward and placed your hands over to stop him.

"No way! This… You can't read it!”

Caleb glanced at you with perplexed eyes. With just one hand, he easily pushed you away.

“I said, you can't read it!”

The more you attempted to reclaim the book, more firmly Caleb held both of your hands. He rapidly read the stuff you never wished him to know. You bit your lip and dropped your head to the floor in ashamed defeat.

He knew.

He knew what you read. He knew what kind of love you were desperately hoping for.

A moment later, after about ten pages, Caleb turned to look at his sister, who was sitting on the ground in her pajamas and her hair undone still. You simply wanted to hide yourself away so he would never find you, since you knew he would only lecture you.

In fact, you were waiting for that lecture to happen, but Caleb said absolutely nothing for a while. He closed the book and placed it on the sofa.

“So…” He eventually spoke. “The story you are reading… Is it the romance between a brother and his sister?”

“Foster brother and sister.” You added it right away. “They are orphans… Like us.”

You deliberately said the last words in the most quiet tone. But Caleb heard it. He cleared his throat.

“So you like romantic stories… like this?”

You covertly gazed at him before turning away immediately. This room suddenly became so airless.

When you were alone, you could let your imagination run wild. You could prolong the daydream in which you were free to express your feelings. Just like the heroine in the story. Yes, you adored that story, because it told you about the romance that bloomed between two orphans who were adopted and fell in love with each other as they grew up. You enjoyed portraying yourself as the female lead and dreaming that he was the male lead.

That was probably why you dated nobody during your school years. That was probably why you always waited for his vacation to greet him when he returned from Skyhaven.

You wanted to be connected to him in a different way than being his adopted sister.

Then he already knew everything. How could you simply bury this guilt? You dared not look at him anymore. Nonetheless, Caleb sat down in front of you, on the floor. His hand was placed very close to yours.

“Well… You could have told me that you…” Caleb stopped mid-sentence. You also did not know what to say in this case. Then he decided to leave.

During that weekend, you never spoke to each other save for brief phrases when compelled to say something.

Caleb returned home the following weekend, but he arrived by the doorstep late at night. The unexpected summer downpour soaked him. You soon let him inside and after taking a shower, Caleb sat in the living room alone with his hair still dripping.

“You should dry your hair.” You spoke, in your hand a clean cotton towel.

Caleb grinned, but averted your gaze. "You usually help me with it."

You refused to say anything else and proceeded gently towards him. There was a chaotic sense between the two of you, as if a fire that had been smoldering for a long time suddenly flared up in violence.

You did not sit next to Caleb, but rather stood behind the sofa, drying his hair. Caleb's eyes were closed, he leaned back slightly, and his gorgeous face was directed towards you. If it had not been for the cotton towel, his hair and head would have likely touched your abdomen.

"It's done." You spoke quietly. You slowly took one step backwards. But Caleb reached out and held you back.

“Pip-squeak, don't go.”

You lost your breath and lowered the head to look down at him. His eyes opened a little, just enough to capture the image of you half confused, half expectant like this.

“Do you still read that story?”

Your head shook slightly as an answer.

"How come? Why did you stop?"

“It makes me… think about nonsense. Didn't you want me to stop reading those kinds of novels and hoping too much for a romance?"

Caleb laughed. His cold fingers touched your cheek, then slid down to the corner of your ruby lips.

“What a pity. The two characters in that story seemed to… truly be together eventually.”

He knew, since he had read ten more pages than you. You never picked up that book again after that day.

“Of course, because they are the male and female protagonists...” You replied in a soft tone.

“You can also be the main character,” said Caleb. “You are the main character in your own story. So… How would you write it?”

He looked at you for a long moment, waiting for your reaction. Waiting for a sign from you. Waiting for you to let him in.

At last, you allowed yourself to be immersed in his touch, his breath and the delicate aroma of soap on his skin. You rubbed against his palm, your head lowered slightly to get a little closer to him.

If you were the heroine in that story, you would hope this dream to never fade.

“I want… I want Caleb to be mine…”

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zroronoas · 2 months ago

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roommate!ace

bc i love ace and kept imagining what he'd be like as a roommate!

-ace loves candles, will always have one lit up and he'll even bring his favorite one everywhere he goes. if he's going from his bedroom to the living room, he will have that candle with him. super considerate though, he'll always have you come candle shopping with him and sniff each one to make sure you like the smell.

a disgusted expression is plastered onto your face as ace holds up the candle to your nose. once he sees your reaction to it, he immediately puts it back on the shelf.

"you don't like it?"

"ace, it smells like feet."

-ace absolutely loves building forts out of the pillows and couch cushions. he takes extra time and effort to make sure it's the most structured pillow fort that has ever been built. usually, he likes to sit in there while you two have movie nights and since he's using up all the couch cushions, you have no choice but to sit in there with him. you have to admit that it was cute, he would set up the inside with the softest blankets and all of the snacks you two loved.

"what are we watching today, ace?"

"wicked."

"again?"

-he's convinced that the apartment has ghosts and will literally force you to ghost hunt with him. you're terrified but it's an excuse to walk around the house in the dark while he holds your hand so you consider it a win.

"dude. did you hear that?"

you press yourself even closer into his side, frantically whipping your head side to side to find the source of the noise. you feel him tighten his grip on your hand, his way of comforting you.

"do we really have to do this? can't we just ignore them?"

"the noise came from your room, good luck sleeping in there tonight!"

"don't say that ace, i will literally move out."

"or you can just sleep in my bed tonight."

-he loves grocery shopping and doing all of the household chores with you. despite him having a messy room, he always makes sure that your shared spaces are clean. if he knows you've been busy, he'll even do your laundry for you. you appreciate the gesture but have had to ban him from touching your laundry because he always makes dirty jokes whenever he sees your underwear.

"oh, these are some scandalous panties you've got here!"

-loves to comes into your room and just plop down on your bed without saying anything. you grow accustomed to it, so usually you just continue what you're doing without sparing him a glance. after a while, he starts to snore and you have to deal with dragging him out of your bed so you can lay down.

-you and ace love to cook, especially if you're doing it together. he loves finding recipes on tiktok and is always sending them to you. neither of you enjoy cleaning up though, so it's always a fight. figuring out who's going to clean up the mess consists of bets and countless games of rock paper scissors. but ace always ends up cleaning up because he's a sweetheart and hates making you do literally anything.

-despite ace's antics and the occasional urge to kick his ass, living with him felt like marriage. you would never admit that to him, in fear of making it awkward between the two of you. you couldn't imagine constantly having to avoid each other during the duration of your two year lease.

-but it was so difficult. regardless of his intentions, ace was extremely flirty and touchy. the man was constantly teasing you and would attempt to cuddle you on the couch every single night.

"why won't you ever let me cuddle with you?" he whines. even though your foot was brought up against his chest, pushing with all your power, the man wouldn't let up. you didn't even know why you even bothered to try and stop him.

"roommates don't cuddle," you state. "and you stink."

"then let's stop being just roommates."

the sentence makes you freeze and you forget about trying to keep him away from you. your foot slowly falls back onto the couch as you stare at him, wide-eyed.

a boyish grin appears on the mans face and he takes the chance to wrap his arms around you. you have no idea what to do, but you do know that you don't have the energy to push him away. you were sure that he could feel the beating of your heart and the warmth that was spreading throughout your face.

"we can be roommates and best friends!" he grins. "that means we can cuddle now, right?"

your fist collides with his arm before you push him off and run as fast as you can to your room. ace winces as he watches you make your way to your room, the smile on his face growing even wider.

he thinks you're the most adorable person on the planet, and couldn't wait for the day he could call you his partner and his roommate.

#one piece #ace x reader #ace fluff #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #ace x you #portgas d ace fluff #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fluff

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edmundosmustache · 29 days ago

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best buddie episodes and why:

2x01 under pressure- duh. buck’s bi panic was so funny to watch and him folding immediately after eddie looks at him with his big brown eyes is peak

3x03 the searchers- the tsunami arc has always been that girl. the christopher eddie reunification scene paired with “there’s nobody in this world i trust with my son more than you” like pls just kiss already IM TIRED

3x15 eddie begins- i’ve been watching since the show has been on air, and there has been maybe two episodes that top this one. this was the episode when i started seriously shipping buddie. buck going absolutely apeshit when eddie got buried and most of eddies flashbacks including buck was what really sealed the deal for me.

4x03 future tense- this one is just so domestic. the scene where buck and chris are playing video games on the couch and buck buying an expensive coffee maker solely to prank eddie… they’re so married it makes me sick

4x14 survivors- this is top 3 buddie episodes of all time. sniper arc you will always be famous!!! eddie asking buck if he’s hurt, the physical touch, BUCK CALLING EDDIE “EDS” oh that boy is down so bad. the will scene takes the cake though. I think this episode is the best one in terms of buddie’s relationship progression.

5x06 brawl in cell block 911- the main parts of this episode that i really love are when buck gets very protective over christopher OR when he thinks eddie gets shot (again.) season 5 was probably the slowest buddie season, but there are still soooo many good moments sprinkled in

6x10 in a flash- again, very obvious. “alright cowboy go get em!” kills me every time. this episode is why i can’t decide whether i want a buck nde or an eddie nde in 8b. i want to see eddie DISTRAUGHT again… him trying to pull buck up towards him screaming is just too good

7x04 buck, bothered and bewildered- another peak buddie episode. even tommy knew that buck was trying to get eddies attention the whole time. i’m honestly surprised that this wasn’t bucks realization arc. The entire episode was focused on eddie. even when tommy came over to flirt with buck he STILL found a way to talk about eddie, multiple times. bi buck canon was also life changing and this episode is top 3 for that reason.

7x05 you don’t know me- season 7 has banger after banger episodes. watching the trailer for this episode and seeing eddie crash bucktommy’s date was the icing on the cake tbh. this ep is how i knew marisol and eddie were not going to last. eddie stop terrorizing the women of LA challenge (level: impossible.) the coming out scene is also just one of the best buddie scenes they’ve ever done, it’s so raw and emotional and captures their characters so well.

7x06 there goes the groom- another season seven episode but it has to be included because of the bachelor party. bachelor party buddie is going to be nearly impossible to top. it’s also cute how they don’t leave each others side for most of this episode.

8x06 confessions- i think this episode is top 3 for buddie relationship development. it’s very bucktommy centric but we get hot priest talking to eddie and bucktommy bones. AND how could we forget the risky business scene. i think this episode is when they put buddie canon in motion. eddie dealing w his catholic/regular guilt and saying he’s straight smells like a gay arc to me. buck immediately going to eddie after breaking up with his boyfriend, AND interrupting eddie’s activity that is supposed to bring him pure joy just seems too obvious. at this point we are past subtext and now getting into true buddie canon territory.

anyway! hope this was enjoyed. if anyone has other episodes they think should be added please share!!! there are so many good episodes i probably missed <3

#911 #911 show #911 abc #buddie #buck x eddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #edmundo diaz #buck buckley

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puck-luck · 4 months ago

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with a bang | nico hischier

warnings: dom!nico hischier, choking, masturbation (fem), voyeurism-ish? you'll see. , fingering, unprotected p in v, pet names and one use of "brat", hair pulling (mmmmmm), slight use of restraints, nipple play fs, SLIGHT dumbification pairing: nico hischier x fem!reader summary: nh comes home after a loss and gets out of his head by taking fem!reader out of hers wc: 3805

Two months ago, you got bangs. They were cute at first. When your hairdresser blew them out and styled them, the bangs looked great. When you wrapped your bangs around a curler overnight, they looked good. When you blow dried your bangs, they looked fine. Sometimes, though, you don’t want to style your bangs. You don’t want to deal with them.

Today is one of those days. You’re in the middle of doing housework on a lazy Saturday. Nico has a game in the early afternoon, so he’s not home. You’d normally go with him to hang with the other WAGs and enjoy his performance, but you’ve been putting off a deep clean of the bathroom for weeks and if you don’t do it now, you know you never will.

At first, you tied your hair back into a ponytail, but your bangs came loose and have been tickling your skin while you scrub at the tiles. Gradually, you became more and more frustrated and overstimulated with the strands of hair. You want them gone.

Your temporary solution, which turned out to work well, was to separate your hair and retie it into pigtails. Your hair hasn’t moved since you threw it up into these matching clumps of hair and you’ve been able to scrub the tiles clean. You were even so satisfied with that that you’ve moved onto the kitchen.

You deep cleaned the oven. You deep cleaned the fridge. You’re cleaning all the counters now. You don’t realize how much time has passed until Nico returns home after the game.

You’re wiping at a particularly tough spot on the counter, your arm aching from how much it’s been working today, when Nico wraps his arms around your waist and buries his face in the side of your neck.

It makes you jump. You’re wearing headphones, so you hadn’t heard him come in. You take one of the headphones out of your ears and slip it into the pocket of your sweats.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you greet. “How was the game?”

“We lost,” Nico replies, frown evident in his voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you say. “You’ll get them next time, baby.”

“Don’t want to think about it.” Nico smooths a hand down your front, toying with the string of your sweatpants. “Can I take care of you?”

After so much time together, you know exactly what Nico means. Sometimes, after disappointing games, Nico has to get out of his head. There’s no better way for him to do that than to channel his disappointment and anger into his infinite drive to make you come. He uses his negative feelings to channel a headspace where he’s entirely in charge of what happens. He gets out of his head by taking you out of yours– by taking care of you and making you submit to him completely.

“Can I finish the counters first?” You ask, turning in his arms so that you can face him. “You know how I get about not finishing something I’ve started. It would bother me all evening.”

Nico smiles softly, nodding at you with eyes full of admiration and love. “Of course, perle. Do you want help?”

You shake your head. “I have a method. I think you’d get in my way, stinkerli. Go take a long, relaxing shower, Nico. I’ll be waiting for you when you’re done.”

Nico scoffs at the deprecating term of endearment. “Hate it when you use my own language against me,” he complains, although he plants a sweet, chaste kiss on your lips.

“Little stinky one,” you tease, patting his chest.

Nico pinches your side in warning before pulling away. “You gonna dress up for me?” he asks. “That pretty lingerie I got you for your birthday?”

You smile, a pretty blush spreading over your cheeks. “Yeah, baby. I’ll wear something pretty for you.”

Nico grins, nodding at you in approval. He takes a few steps toward the bedroom. You’ve just gone back to the counter when he calls out an instruction over his shoulder. “Keep the pigtails,” Nico says. “I like those, too.”

You snort out a laugh, continuing to wipe over the counter. You clean the sink because it’s part of the counter, then you turn to clean the island. All in all, it takes about five minutes. You might be rushing a bit, eager to get into bed with your perfect boyfriend and stop thinking for the night. Nico’s “long showers” are only fifteen minutes, though, so you have to rush if you want to be pretty for him. You don’t have to touch your hair, but if you’re honest, you haven’t touched the lingerie he bought you for your birthday. It might take you a minute to make the fabric work with you the way you want it to, so once you toss your cleaning rag in the closet that houses your household laundry, you head to the bedroom to get ready.

From the back of your closet, you pull out a red negligée and the matching bralette and panties. You feel like Sabrina Carpenter. Nico loves seeing you in red– it has to be some subconscious bias towards the color. Everything he loves is red– Switzerland, the Devils… even love and sex have red connotations. Red is passion. Nico thinks that you are made for the color red, to be someone for him to love.

The set comes with thigh-high stockings. You don’t need a garter belt to wear them, which is exciting. You’d always thought that garter belts were tacky. You’re not even sure if you’ll wear one at your wedding– although Nico would probably love to do a garter belt toss. His teammates would whoop and celebrate and try to catch the thing like eager-to-marry women with a bouquet.

After donning the outfit, you lay out on the bed.

While waiting for Nico to get out of the shower, you stare at the door. It’s cracked open and you can see Nico’s foggy reflection in the mirror. His body is so broad and strong. He’s always been tan, but he looks even more tan than you’re used to because he’s still got traces of summer on his skin.

Your hand drifts lower. Before you know it, you’re touching yourself. Well, barely– you’re just skimming your fingers along the hemlines of your panties, then touching the lace that adorns the fabric between your legs. You’re really just tracing the flowery design on the delicate underwear.

That’s not how Nico sees it.

“What are you doing?” Nico asks curtly when he exits the bathroom, towel wrapped lowly around his waist. Your eyes are drawn to the dark hair that connects his belly button to his groin, then to the thatch of hair between his pecs.

Catching your mistake, you take your hand away from your core. When you entered the bedroom and got ready for Nico, you entered a binding contract with your boyfriend. Only one word can breach the contract– your safe word– and without that, Nico is going to take care of you. He’s going to render you stupid, starting now.

You already did something punishable. You touched yourself without permission.

“It didn’t feel good,” you tell him, trying to justify your actions.

“I don’t care if it didn’t feel good,” Nico says, just like you knew he would. “You touched what’s mine.”

“I’m sorry,” you reply with a purposeful jut of your bottom lip. Sometimes, your innocent face is enough to put Nico on a sweeter path; a path that involves drawing the thoughts out of you slowly with slow orgasm after slow orgasm rather than beating them out of you with harsh spanks to your behind, a strong hand around your throat, and degrading language.

Not today.

“Sorry isn’t good enough.” Nico shakes his hair out, drying it with a second, smaller towel that he drops to the floor when he’s done. Then, he leaves the bedroom.

You’re left alone, confused. Is this some sort of punishment in and of itself? Being left alone after thinking that Nico would positively ravage you for disobeying the rules that you know all too well? He’s never done this before. It’s not a bad punishment, but usually Nico tells you what he’s doing before he does it. He cares, even when he’s dominating the bedroom, and that’s how he shows it. So, why did he leave without a word?

You’re just pushing yourself up into a criss-cross applesauce position on the bed when Nico comes back. He muscles through the doorway, carrying the armchair from your living room like it’s not heavy at all. Your mouth opens, shocked and incredibly turned on by the feat of strength.

“What are you doing?” You dare to ask.

Nico places the chair opposite the bed, against the wall. He drops the towel from his waist, tossing it into the corner of the bedroom, near the towel he used to dry his hair. You’re met with the delicious sight of his half-hard cock. He sits. He spreads his legs in the chair, manspreading in a way that normally acts as an invitation. You’re ready to crawl towards him when–

“Lay back,” he commands, settling his forearms on the respective arms of the chair. His hands curl over the edges, relaxing against the piece of furniture.

You scramble to obey.

Once you’re positioned adequately, Nico speaks again. “Since you want to touch yourself so badly, you have to give me a show. Then, if your performance is good enough, we’ll go back to our night. How’s that, schatzi?”

It’s– it’s hot. You want to do that for him. You hadn’t thought about it before, but you love the idea of putting on a show and touching yourself just for Nico to see. The tension affects you just as much as it would if you were bent over Nico’s knee, under his heavy hand.

You spread your legs slowly. You bring your knees up, framing Nico between your thighs.

He keeps his dark eyes on your face, expression impassive and unreadable. There’s only a hint of challenge in the clench of his jaw and the quirk of his strong brow.

You look over him. His hair falls elegantly. He’s got a shadow of a beard growing in. You love Nico’s hair– the hair on his head, his mustache when he lets it grow, the dark hair along his arms… best yet, the fine hair on his legs. You love touching his thighs, petting over the skin there.

You’re wet, surely darkening your panties. The sun, falling in the sky, filters through the blinds and casts shadows over your body. The same is true for Nico– when you look at him, you think about a tiger stalking his prey and calculating the right moment to pounce.

Your nipples are hard, poking against your bralette. One of your hands drifts up to your chest hesitantly, like you’re testing if Nico was being serious or not. Perhaps it’s a test– he doesn’t really want you touching yourself, but he’s waiting to see if you fall for it.

He doesn’t move, even as your thumb and index finger pinch the peak through the thin fabric. You rock your hips forward slightly at the sensation, rolling them into the air. You pinch again. Your other hand finds your other nipple, mirroring the sensation in tandem until you let out a quiet moan.

Overeager and fueled by the fact that Nico isn’t jumping in, isn’t stopping you, you palm one of your tits and knead the skin. Your head falls back, eyes closing. You’re able to imagine that it’s Nico’s fingers against you, trailing down your stomach until the pads of his fingers graze over your clit.

But they’re not Nico’s hands touching you. They’re your own.

You leave your breasts behind to tug at the sides of your underwear, adding pressure to your core when you grind your hips up into the air. You touch yourself again, letting your palm connect with your core in a delicious pass that just isn’t satisfying enough. You’re teasing yourself, just for the show.

You blink your eyes open, finding Nico again, hoping that he’s impressed.

He hasn’t moved from his original position. He lifts his eyebrow again, as if to ask, “Really?”

You blush. You might be just as red as the lingerie that Nico chose especially for you, especially for tonight. You feel small under Nico’s gaze– he’s gigantic, a huge presence, even though he’s said absolutely nothing since your performance began. You squirm a bit under his gaze.

The intermission is over. You go back to your show.

You inch your panties to the side, just so that you can reveal your wet slit to Nico. You want him to see how wet you are as you toy with your clit and your nipples. You bore of your nipples after a few more minutes of pinching and twisting; instead, you use that hand to trace the lines of your neck. You run your knuckles over the length of the column before allowing your fingers to splay over the front of your throat. All you do is hold your hand there. If it was Nico, he’d be squeezing.

There’s a rustle.

Nico shifts in his chair, sinking lower in the chair and tilting his head to the side. Your eyes are drawn to his cock, which has grown fully hard. He’s moved a hand from the armest so that his fingers circle the base of his shaft, holding his cock.

You’re suddenly overwhelmed by the need to take it in your mouth. Fuck, how you want him to gag you with the thick member– but your show has barely started.

You press a finger against your hole, dipping into the heat just enough that Nico can see your fingertip disappear.

Like revenge for going farther, Nico releases his base and cups his balls, giving himself a squeeze that makes you gasp before he returns to his base. Now, he’s smirking.

“Nico,” you breathe out, bringing your hand back to your tits.

He hums in response. It’s barely anything, but you’ll take it.

“Please,” you beg, kicking a leg out farther so that he can see the way your finger has fully slid into your pussy, how your hole hugs the digit. “Want you to touch me.”

“Then why would you do it yourself?” Nico questions. “I was so close to joining you, baby. Why weren’t you patient?”

“Please,” you repeat. You have no good answer for his questions. It just happened. You didn’t mean to touch yourself like that, without his permission. You were just looking at your pretty boyfriend and his sexy body, and then all of a sudden, your fingers were on your clit.

“Please,” Nico mocks. “If you want anything from me tonight, you’ll stop begging and give me what I want. Make yourself come.”

“Nico,” you insist.

“God, you brat,” Nico spits, his beautiful face marred with a frown. “You want me to touch you? Fine. Get on your hands and knees. Face the headboard.”

You shoot into position, rolling to your stomach and scrambling up. Your panties are still pulled to the side, showing off your glistening, and now-empty, cunt. You don’t dare look back, knowing that it will only cause you more trouble. You expect Nico to bring a hand down on the globes of your ass, making the skin just as red as the lace on top of it.

What you don’t expect is for him to thrust two thick fingers into your heat. It knocks the wind out of you as he moves his fingers inside of you, unrelenting and pulsing. Your head dips, forehead touching the pillows below you.

Nico does another thing you don’t expect. He wraps your pigtails around his hand like a boxer’s knuckle tape and pulls your head up until your scalp is screaming in pain.

“Face the headboard,” he hisses. “Was I not clear enough, dummerli?”

You moan as his fingers bump against your g-spot, your breath hitching and breaking as he undoes you with his fingers. It’s so much better than your own touch– you can’t even imagine why you’d ever want to touch yourself when you have Nico. He’s exactly right. Nico ought to be the only thing you need.

“Answer me,” Nico commands with another tug to your hair.

“Yes,” you say on instinct, having already forgotten the question. You’re lucky that it’s the right answer, that Nico was clear enough, because you’d be in for it if you talked back.

“Good,” Nico replies, pulling your hair so that your back arches. He leans down and kisses the back of your head to reward you for obeying him. “Now, come all over my fingers. We have to make sure you’re nice and wet for my cock, right?”

You babble out another affirmative word or two, clenching down and rocking back against his hand.

Nico releases your hair in order to circle his fingers around your neck, pulling you up and meeting you halfway by draping himself over your back. Your core tenses with the effort to stay in exactly the position that Nico wants you to be in, spurring your orgasm further.

“Come,” he growls in a low voice next to your ear, his fingers digging into the sides of your throat.

You let go, your pussy contracting and tightening around his fingers. Nico continues to piston his digits into your cunt, sending wild jolts through your body with every touch. He fingers you through the shocks of your orgasm, the low cries and whines that leave your lips. You turn your head towards his, your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you come. Nico presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, lightly petting over your neck in a comforting motion as you come down.

“Good girl,” Nico coos. “Look at you, giving everything to me. That’s my girl. Mi ängeli.”

“Nico,” you murmur, reaching a hand around to grab at his hair. You lean back into his touch, letting him hold you up. “Your cock.”

“What about it?” Nico teases. He rolls his hips against the curve of your ass. “It’s big, huh?”

“Fuck me,” you plead, twisting the strands of his hair between your fingers.

“Tell me you want my big cock to fill you up,” Nico says, rolling his hips again. He maneuvers you onto your back again, crowding your space and laying atop you. He kisses over your neck, rocking his cock against your dripping cunt, but never penetrating you. His hands find your wrists, gently bringing them up above your head. He presses your wrists into the pillows, shifting so that they’re confined by his left hand. With the other, he grabs his cock and guides the head through your folds over and over, nudging your clit.

You moan as his tip touches you, mixing his precum with your own slick and previous release.

“Say it,” Nico encourages, his breath hot over the swell of your lips.

“I want your big cock to fill me up,” you reply, following his direction exactly. He doesn’t get upset with you, despite the fact that he had to ask twice. No, he’s punished you enough. Now, he wants to make you feel good.

Nico smiles, touching the tip of your nose with his before kissing you– the first time his lips have completely met yours since he returned home. He takes his time shifting into you, letting his bulbous cockhead enter you with a satisfying pop. You try to suck him in, clenching down and grinding into him, but Nico goes at his own pace. Once his cock enters you, his hand turns to your chest.

He takes your already sensitive nipples and bullies them with touches that have you arching into his hand. He pulls keens and whimpers from you, stealing the breath from your lungs with each kiss. He consumes you completely, stealing every thought from your head and making you submit to him entirely.

It’s exactly what he needed tonight, after that loss. In moments like these, Nico feels like he’s vindicated. It’s a further confirmation of his truth– that he knows, truly knows, that if soulmates are real, you’re his. Even if soulmates aren’t real, he swears that you were made for him.

“Come,” Nico encourages from under his breath. He’s ready to shoot off, but he wants you to come first– well, for the second time.

You don’t make him wait. It’s only a few more thrusts before you shatter underneath him, rising off the bed and rocking your hips to make the most of the orgasm.

You’re fully fulfilled when Nico comes inside of you, still gripping your wrists and tweaking your nipple while his cum paints your walls white.

Nico touches you as you both ride through your climaxes, keeping his fingers splayed along your ribcage and hip. Although your wrists have been released, you keep them fixed above your head until your breath evens out. You touch his hair again, carding your fingers through it.

Nico kisses down your body soothingly, not trying to start anything new.

“I love this set on you,” Nico murmurs. “I was right about it looking pretty.”

“You always think I look pretty.”

“Well, I’m always right.”

Nico nibbles at your neck, making you shiver. He pulls out of your heat slowly, covering your core with the crotch of the panties. They’ll need to be washed thoroughly, but you like that his cum is trapped inside of you because of the fabric.

“You’ll have to buy me more lingerie, since you think it’s so pretty.”

Nico laughs. “Greedy girl.”

“You’ve been lacking on your sugar daddy duties lately,” you reply, smiling up at him. “I thought you liked buying me things.”

“I’ve been busy,” Nico says, defending himself. “It’s hockey season!”

“Hockey, hockey, hockey, that’s all I hear from you,” you tease.

Nico rolls his eyes and doesn’t deign you with a response, instead deciding to kiss you and wrap his arms around you. He rolls to the edge of the bed and finds his footing on the ground, lifting you and walking to the ensuite bathroom.

He sets you down on the ground, smacking your ass gently. You stand on your tiptoes to continue kissing him, feeling bouncy and satisfied after getting his dick inside of you.

“Bathroom, baby. Then I’ll make you a late dinner, hmm?” Nico kisses the tip of your nose, his big brown eyes twinkling as he looks at you. He pats your ass again, stepping away. “I’ll try not to ruin your clean kitchen.”

“You’d better not!” You call after him as he walks away. “I worked hard on cleaning that room today!”

note: this was inspired by me wearing pigtails at the end of the summer at the camp where i worked, and one of my guy friends came up behind me and pulled my pigtails really hard :) i don't think he understood the ramifications of that moment and i have found him slightly hot ever since :) despite not being attracted to him ever before.

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