#to be clear: I did not grow up with this music | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satorena · 2 months ago

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#INTRO2MUNCH101

summ. when suguru “eat it off the bone” geto actually turns out to be suguru “flaps the left lip until she calls it a night” geto, he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about his skills. . . talk about a rude awakening.

cw. explicit content. foul language. fem!reader. college!au. eventual smut (but not in the way you think. . .) mild modern lingo. allusions to music artists. cunningulūs. male masturbation. reader has a belly piercing. she’s also depicted mean by the boys. gojo cameos bc i can’t not mention him. tattoo artist!geto. substance consumption. lowkeyyy self-indulgent reader. 10k wc.

rena's note. this is a spin-off to p power, so i’d suggest reading that first to understand the correlation! & shoutout to @yung-notorious for the idea <3

suguru geto is a simple man.

your pleasure is his pleasure. he’s always prided himself on being a pro at the art of cunningulus. honest— he’s always left with swollen lips, a heavily sprayed face and a solid five star ratings at the end of his work. his jaw feels tired out, scalp burning from consistent hair tugs, and his breathing uneven from lack of oxygen. but at the feel of plush thighs squeezing his face and the repetition of his name flowing into the air before getting squirted on, he remembers it’s always worth it.

no pain no gain, right?

wrong.

because here he finds himself, a hefty hour in since he first dove in between your soft legs, and there’s been absolutely no development. sprawled on your back on his sheets, arm slung over your eyes, and your breathing even. you look fucking bored, and his heart is sinking to his ass.

geto will use every trick he has in the book. he’s noticed overtime that girls have different bodies, therefore he needs different tactics to stimulate those bodies. he nips at your puffy bud, sucking on your clit for external pleasure. no use. fine, then he’ll push your thighs up some more for a deeper penetration of his fingers in your cunt— still no use. the only sounds being produced are his mouth slipping against his own saliva at your pussy because he can’t even get you wet enough.

the pit in his stomach grows larger. he wonders if maybe you’re just the silent type? he’s come across those before.

he’s getting nervous out of his mind, so shaky and uncoordinated that his hand slips and meets your lips for the umpteenth time— and only then do you release a guttural groan, the very first sound you’ve made in a long ass time. wait—

“did. . . did you cum?” he pants, pulling his sticky lips away from yours. his face feels moist, blood rushing all in his head and he’s lightheaded. but still, he has to know.

you push yourself up to your elbows, annoyance clear as day. he’s yet to seen this look on a girl after pulling every card known on the table, “yeah. . . to the wrong fucking house.”

oh fuck.

☆ ☆ ☆

he first spotted you chatting it up with your friends on the school’s soccer field, on a random tuesday afternoon, and he’s been hooked on you ever since.

the universe played a funny game, and he realized university truly is a small ass world. amongst your friends, he noticed a familiar face. one he’s been hearing and seeing of one too many times lately, on multiple separate and traumatic occasions— gojo’s girlfriend. suguru found himself bonding with her due to their familiar point of interest— that being gojo— and believes he can now make of her a friend.

geto watches his best friend’s eyes shimmer and he flashes his infamous million dollar smile. he really is obsessed with his girlfriend and she doesn’t even know— and geto finds himself wishing he had somebody he’d be this ecstatic over. must be nice.

“i’m gonna go say hi to my girl real quick,” gojo taps at his shoulder, and geto nods. he’s cool on it, he’ll wait back here until he’s done, or can make his way to his next class depending on whatever gojo and his girlfriend arrange. “you comin’?”

“i’m probably gonna head to our next lecture.” geto voices out, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. he feels gojo peeking over his shoulder, in which he assumes to verify if that would be necessary.

over forty-five minutes. damn it.

“that’s mad pointless, class doesn’t start till more than half an hour,” gojo says, and geto doesn’t see himself waiting around that long for a lecture. no way, “just come— her friends are chill.”

fuck it, he goes. naturally, gojo is all over his girl and her friends expect it. geto does give them a little wave when gojo introduces him. one of the girls mention having heard of him through a friend— something about a failed talking stage. mad federal, and the sheepish chuckle geto offers when you give him an unreadable look makes him want to crawl into a ditch.

so now you think he’s a whore. awesome.

and gojo’s smirk definitely doesn’t help him out. he doesn’t help out at all actually, so enamoured by his girlfriend that he leaves geto to fend for himself against a pack of wolves (read: nosy girls). he replies only when spoken to, nods when necessary and throws in a few “that’s crazy,” to which the girls fail to pick up he’s out of words to say.

well, everyone except you.

you’re quiet. in fact, the whole time, you haven’t said shit to him. you sit back and observe, occasionally typing on your macbook, or reapplying your lip combo. you didn’t have any words to say to him. even when your friends would talk to you, you gave them short answers and went back to listening to whatever was playing in your airpods. he could tell from that small interaction alone, you were the mean one out of your clique.

and fuck if that didn’t make him want you more. there was just something about mean women that made him want to break through their fake ass exteriors and watch them turn all soft and chummy for him.

blame it on his corruption kink.

gojo confirms his thoughts when they’re finally on their way to class. he kissed his girl goodbye and waved off her friends, to which they all (minus you) collectively cooed, “byeee gojooo!” which he found odd, but kept silent. he gave them a small nod before following his best friend.

they’re a few steps in the science building when the words slip before he can help it, ultimately cutting gojo’s rambling off, “yo, who was that girl?”

gojo glances at him before chuckling, “there was like seven of ‘em. which one?”

“the quiet one.”

it throws him off guard when gojo laughs hard. like, really hard. it attracts the attention of bystanders, who give him a crazy look but gojo ignores. as if they’d try to press him about his volume— the two were pretty adored around campus.

geto does find his reaction quite interesting, to which he cocks a brow and offers a chuckle of his own, “what?”

“oh, you definitely mean y/n,” when his laughter dies down, he finally answers. he lifts his shades to his hairline to swipe a tear. “she’s mean as fuck, bro.”

“right?!” geto laughs, tapping at gojo’s shoulder. it only charges gojo’s laughing fit back up, “i could tell from her vibe. she gives off those ‘men ain’t shit’ girlies on twitter. whole time, she’s probably laid up in bed with one.”

“you don’t even knowww,” gojo holds his shoulder and shakes him a bit. geto does in fact know, because he’s dealt with girls like her before. they’re always a good ass time. “she does men dirty. like, absolutely dogs them. heard one phone call too many.”

oh? even better than he expected. she’s probably the type that used to love hard before getting her heart trampled on and decided to seek revenge on all men. like, on some jennifer’s body shit. geto can’t help but smirk, “lemme see for myself. put me on.”

gojo falters in his step. his grip on geto’s shoulders loosen and his expression changes— not by much, but the once lighthearted smile switches to a skeptical one, “you serious?”

geto lets out a soft sigh, shrugging gojo’s hands off his shoulders. “don’t start asking too much. i did a favour for you and your girl, didn’t i?,” well, technically speaking it wasn’t like his comment had been the deciding factor for the two, but it did open gojo’s eyes. “you owe me one.”

“i don’t owe you shit,” gojo laughs, throwing his arm around geto anyways, “buuut you’re my boy and i’m not stingy. i’ll see what i can do, i know you’ve been getting a lil jealous of wifey and i.”

“shut the fuck up.” geto’s chuckles contradict his statement.

from that point on, it’s smooth sailing. gojo texts his girl asking if she’s seeing anybody. they have a little back and forth because his girlfriend assumes he’s asking for himself— which gojo gets all dramatic and throws geto under the bus for free. welp! it all worked out anyway since after he and gojo parted, you’d thought he was fine shyt. judging from your character, he doesn’t exactly take gojo’s words for what they are.

but he’ll take the opening, it’s as good as any.

time to plot.

☆ ☆ ☆

the second encounter was purely coincidental. and simultaneously embarrassing.

see, geto prides himself on his mysterious act— granted he was anything but. people see all that is gojo and automatically assume that geto has to be the cool one. it creates a perfect balance, no?

haven’t people heard of birds of a feather flock together?

so yes, he’s also a nerd. he typically enjoys spending his wednesday afternoons at dice board cafes because why not. it’s a chill, lowkey joint right off campus and not a lot of people gravitate towards, therefore the perfect spot to camp out before his evening lecture.

besides, his buddy choso works there and it gets him discounts. it isn’t the only reason he shows up, but it does help a lot on his pockets. being a student is awful, financially.

geto sips on his choco latte through a straw, browsing through the board games pamphlet as he decides what he’s going to play today. most of these games are pretty pointless if he doesn’t have an opponent, but he likes to think it helps develop his iq. he hears avenoir playing through the cafe and knows choso’s on aux.

who else could be playing this toxic ass shit?

he’s torn choosing between snakes and ladders or chess when he hears chimes at the front door, signalling somebody’s entered the establishment. he doesn’t think much of it, going on about minding his business when he hears choso say your name.

the latte enters the wrong tube and he chokes.

geto collects himself quickly, wiping any stray liquid past his mouth as his head snaps up. you’re propped up against the counter, and though he can’t see your face, he definitely recognizes your build. . . okay, yeah that sounds fucking pervy but if he stalked your page a few times, who’s business is it but his own? it’s not like you’d know. granted, he had got caught up liking one of your older photos but he took the like right back!

he debates on walking up to you. how would that even work without seeming desperate? you’ve been checking out all of his boxes so far— your face, body and attitude (question mark) are all tens. he does want to get to know you— at least be somebody in your life. but damn, why is he overthinking this? all he has to get up there and sweet talk you. he’s done this shit before.

“yo, suguru!”

shit.

purple orbs shift towards where his name was called, and lo and behold, there stands choso. and naturally, you look back to who was summoned, but god— social media does not do your face justice. he last seen you about a week ago, and had nothing but your instagram and his memory to rely on.

he makes his way to the counter and ignores you. doesn’t spare you a glance once— though he stands right at your side and watches you watching him through his peripheral. he nods at choso, “what’s up?”

choso, ever the genius, flicks his eyes between geto and you, before clearing his throat, “shoko just texted— somethin’ about a new client. how’s the studio looking?”

“booked all week,” geto answers truthfully, and he notices you’ve shifted your gaze, “little to no openings. why though?”

choso hums, jolting down online orders into a little notebook, “not even for a special friend?”

geto squints his eyes at that. there isn’t anybody he’d call a special friend that hasn’t already been booked or wouldn’t have his number to squeeze in an appointment. granted, he is a dnd warrior but even his friends know of that quirk of his, “depends. who’s the special friend?”

“me.” and he feels his heart skip a beat. fuck. he tilts his head over to the side, and good lord, your face card gave every girl on campus runs for their money. seriously, your facial features complimented you in a way that told aphrodite— the textbook definition of beauty— to go fuck herself, and hard.

“oh?” geto cocks a brow, and lets his eyes roam up and down your frame. shameless, yes, but he has a reputation to uphold. your rest in face makes his own look like child’s play, “didn’t realize we were on special friends basis.”

you click your tongue, “didn’t realize we were on lurking spam accounts but pretend we don’t exist the next day basis either,” you quip right back, picking at the white bow glued to your acrylics.

sassy. geto chuckles, now fully turning his body around to face you. you match his movements, and he toys with a ring on his middle finger, “guess you got me all figured out,” he pauses, shifting his gaze to choso, who’s already eyeing him. “sounds like you wanted me to reach out.”

“boy please,” you scoff, pausing your nail inspection. you let your hand hang, “you choked earlier because you heard my name. that corny nonchalant act isn’t the flex you’re thinking it is,” a huff escapes your lips, and geto feels blood rushing to his face. “your lurking ass was months deep into my page just a week ago— did you find any men ain’t shit vibes from the photo dump?”

choso stifles a laugh, and when geto looks at him, it dies into a cough. well damn, you really didn’t hold anything back. read him like a book actually— and it doesn’t help that gojo can’t keep his mouth shut for shit. it widens the grin on his face. he thinks he likes you.

“well,” geto smirks, “can’t say i have— means there’s still an opening.”

you furrow your brows, “oh? an opening to what exactly?”

“an appointment, of course,” he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. his locks are getting in his face, but the messy look always gets him compliments. might as well shoot his shot, “you know. . .” leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, “for a special friend.”

his double entendre definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you. he watches how, despite the mean mugging, there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes. you’re squinting just slightly, almost as if you were weighing out the pros and cons. geto won’t break the eye contact first— he’s on a mission. he hopes the tired eyes look will be on his side this time.

tattoo or dick appointment— he would one hundred percent make an opening for you. anything to get his hands on your body.

“are we still talking about the tattoo parlour or . . .”

both you and he turn to choso, who’s watching the situation unfold. just count on him to ruin the mood, whether the obliviousness was feigned or not. choso tightens his brows at the look geto shoots him, “what?”

“i’m gonna head out,” you grab at your handbag, hopping of the seat. nicely played choso. you gather your items and slip them in your purse, sliding a few bucks across the counter. choso grabs the bills and stick them in the tip jar, nodding at her. “catch you in poly sci?”

“if you don’t skip again.” choso snorts and you flip him off, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you turn on your heel and make your way towards the exit, ultimately dismissing geto. that doesn’t feel too nice, he should probably stop that bad habit.

he rises to his feet before he can help it. his hand grabs at your wrist and notices how much smaller it seems in comparaison to his, and he hates the next words that leave his mouth, “what about me?”

you glance down at his hold on you, before looking back up at him, “what about you?” your face says everything your lips haven’t— you’re getting the ick.

he wants to wince. okay, yeah that was corny, “when do i get to see you?”

you drag out a mini hum, your gaze dancing over his silver chain around his collarbone, “dunno. you have my socials so i assume in the next hour.”

he tilts his head to the side, and the pad of his thumb grazes over your smooth skin. he doesn’t fail to notice the way your hand stiffens under his touch, “so if i slide in your dms in the next hour, i can expect an answer?”

a snort leaves your chest, and he can’t tell if it’s a condescending one or an amused one. what he does know, however, is that he’s going to be seeing you sometime soon. you take your hand back into your possession before laying it in the dead centre of his chest, pushing him back just slightly, “i’ll see you around, geto.”

his eyes trail over your figure, every step you take out of the establishment, slightly starstruck by the entirety of you— your boldness. the thrill he was beginning to feel felt like a high. he hasn’t met anybody this entertaining in a while.

“you’re so fucking corny.” he thinks he hears choso insult him from behind. he doesn’t pay him any mind, despite the middle finger that tips towards the ceiling. partynextdoor blasts in the cafe, specifically freak in you, and he hates how he finds himself relating to the lyrics,

room full of beautiful women but he only wants one.

☆ ☆ ☆

“you stalking me, pretty?”

“sure,” you nod your head, raking through the items on the clothing rack. you don’t spare him a single glance, picking a top off the rack and inspecting it, “if stalking means visiting the busiest thrift store on the busiest hour in the busiest city.”

geto lets out a small laugh, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargos. you make him feel like a nuisance, like he’s a pest wasting your time. ironic, seeing as he wasn’t that much of a bother just last night, when you’d been indulging him in your inbox, “of course you’re the thrifting type.”

you pause your actions, price tag in your fingers as you side eye him through locks of your hair, “and you’re not?”

“didn’t mean it in a bad way, sweetheart.” geto shrugs, pulling off a cropped baby tee and bringing towards you. it has sequins sewn in the material, the gems writing out juicy couture. “this would suit you— belly piercing and whatnot.”

the top is cute, there was no denying so. a pretty shade of pink that suited your complexion, but letting his ego inflate bigger than it already was out of the question. he could tell your thought process from the judgmental look you offered, “oh god—you’re one of those fake ass, streetwearing fashionistas, aren’t you?”

geto blinks a few times, before letting out a sincere laugh. he’s been called a multitude of things before, but that one was new, “you got all that from me suggesting you buy this juicy couture tee? don’t all girls fiend over this vintage shit?”

“it’s that corny ass personality of yours,” you grab the shirt, throwing it in your cart. he wants to make a comment on that, but you beat him to the chase, “the phoney nonchalant act, the streetwear, your insta aesthetic— you’re so scripted.”

“my insta aesthetic?” he repeats, and doesn’t miss a step to catch up to you. your hands are back on the handle of your shopping cart, and if the way his elbows bump into your shoulders bothers you, you don’t make point in commenting on it. “who’s the lurker now, hm?”

you roll your eyes, pushing the strolley ahead, “don’t let it get to your big ass head. your feed screams you’re those toxic ass brent faiyaz wannabes,” he watches your fingertips rake through more clothings that pass your way, before you shoot him a glance, “let me guess— he showed on your spotify wrapped.”

his silence speaks volumes, and you click your tongue, “see? scripted.”

“and what about you?” geto counters when you make a pit stop. you pull away from your cart when a denim skirt catches your eye. you lift the skirt up to your eyes, before looking over your shoulder, cocking a brow.

“what about me?”

“the tweet reposts, the song choices for your highlights, the whole spiritual baddie persona,” he presses behind you, his chest meeting your back. he rests his chin atop your head, purple eyes landing on the clothing article that’s lowering in your hold, “if my page gives brent then yours definitely gives jhene.”

you’re mute for a second, and you chuck the skirt into the cart. you pull away from beneath him, spinning on your feet to face him, and you’ve got a scowl on your lips, “what’s wrong with jhene?”

“and you call me the toxic one.” geto pokes at your cheek. you swipe his hand away, and he laughs, “don’t get me wrong though— she makes good music. but let’s not act like she’s all innocent either,” his gaze lowers to your glossy lips, the fullness of the pair hypnotic, “a real freak. should i call you my pussy fairy?”

“do not,” you reply, weaving around him to make your way back to your cart. geto laughs, snatching a few things of the racks before dumping them in your stuff. you give him a deadpanned look and he whistles it off, feigning ignorance. “jhene’s a lovergirl. thought i was part of the men ain’t shit community.”

“you’re not gonna let that go, are you?” geto sighs. he owes gojo another thump in the head.

you roll your eyes, “thank your homeboy for that.”

“two things can be true at once,” geto fiddles with the hem of his jacket. he’s back at walking step by step with you, and you haven’t told him to fuck off yet, so he’s going to milk the opportunity out. “you’re mean but a lovergirl. you hate men but a real freak with them. right or wrong?”

you halter in your steps, and geto’s now a few steps ahead of you, so he looks over his shoulder to meet your bored expression, “i know you’re not trying to read me in the middle of value village.”

“no better time than the present,” he smiles, one that creases a dimple in his cheeks. “come on up— what are you waiting for?”

you stare at him some more, inhaling sharply, “mind you, i never invited you to join me,” you shake your head but comply regardless. cute, looks like you’re enjoying his company more than you’re letting on.

so he graces you his presence some more. he shops along with you, sneaks clothes into your cart when you’re distracted and asks you stupid questions. it’s a good time— to him at least, being able to get to know you some more without interruptions. naturally, you feign that his company is the bane of your existence, but he doesn’t miss the twitch of your lips when he taps his card into the reader at the check out.

hell yeah he’s got money to spend and is willing to show off if it means getting on your good side.

it’s only after he helps you bag your shit into your car, that he realizes this is where the both of you part ways. it annoys him slightly, but he doesn’t need to overstep his boundaries. he closes your trunk and makes his way to the driver’s side, where you’re already buckled up.

he taps at your window and the glass rolls down all the way, to which he leans forward. he’s in your line of sight now and you sigh, tilting your head sideways, “what?”

“do i get a goodbye kiss?” geto teases, honest, the boyish smirk he offers accentuating the playful undertone. the last thing he expects is you shifting in your seat, pushing yourself up and peaking your head out the window.

his smirk drops, brows jumping to his hairline. you’re really fucking close now, and for a split second he thinks you’re actually going to do it. he can see the flecks of colours swimming in your orbs, the tip of your nose bumps into his and your breath fans his cupid’s bow.

fuck, you smell really good. he bets you taste even better. his mouth is running dry, mindlessly darting his tongue out to wet his own lips. he doesn’t realize he’s let himself lean into your space, eyes narrowing on your mouth parting over his.

he’s pulled out of his trance when two fingers press at his forehead and push. he blinks his lashes, snapping back to reality as you sit back into your seat. you look amused— as if you’d played the funniest game right in his face and he’d been the star player.

“i’ll see you around, geto.”

and you drive off.

☆ ☆ ☆

“come back in a few weeks for a checkup. we’ll make sure the healing process is running smoothly. i’ll catch you soon.”

he lets out a tired sigh when the door finally closes, slumping into his seat and shuts his eyes. he’s exhausted— having woken up early for lectures and labs to back to back appointments with clients. this time around, the parlour is always booked and busy. students find it the perfect timing to get tatted to let it heal before showing it off in the summer.

it’s smart for them but idiotic for him. midterms are up, and the only time he has to study is in between appointments. he slides off his gloves and drags his seat towards his desk, redirecting his attention focus towards the blinding screen.

he feels a headache building at his temple, sipping at his iced coffee to keep him energized. contradicting, sure, but you didn’t have the luxury to be a beggar and a chooser when you were a full time student. the parlour he ran resided in his loft apartment, on the second floor. he enjoyed the comfort of his own home, spacious room and wide windows compared to outside stores.

his cat, nanako, purrs at his feet and he feels his heart swell. if there was one weakness he had in this world, it’d be her. he picks her up from the floor, presses her at his rib cage and nuzzles his nose in her fur.

“hi baby,” geto coos, and nanako lets out a sound. he continues to coddle her, fluffing her fur and rubbing at her ears, “it’s been pretty lively in here, hasn’t it? i knowww,” he coos, and as if nanako understands his words, she makes a pitiful sound that slightly shatters his heart.

geto decides to place her on his lap, her company serving plenty of motivation as he rolls back to his desk. he grabs the remote to his built-in speakers, turning the volume higher, before locking back in. exams are full of crap, and words are starting to jumble on his screen— he’s beginning to contemplate if this education shit is even worth the stress.

he’s an hour deep in jolting notes down on his ipad when he hears a knock at his front door. he scrunches his brows and glances at his agenda— he isn’t due for an appointment until another few hours. he sits it out, starting to believe he’d maybe imagined the sound. he knows it isn’t gojo since he’s celebrating an anniversary with his girl, and any other friend would’ve called to let him know they’re outside.

probably some jehovah witness shit, he thinks to himself, fingers hovering over his speaker remote to crank the volume back up. he turns back to his laptop screen, petting nanako mindlessly when his ipad flashes an instagram notification.

yourstruly.yn: open up

he jumps to his feet, chair rolling back. nanako flies to his desk, landing on all fours as she hisses at him for his suddenness. geto grabs her and kisses her ear, “sorry baby,” before sitting her on the floor. she walks off to her mini bean bag right at the foot of his desk, and he senses an attitude coming from her.

damn, he’d forgotten he squeezed you in last night in the midst of his sweet talking. that was truly a stupid move, he was already behind on studying, and because he likes to think with his head instead of his actual head, he’d fall even further behind.

he checks around the flat— picks up stray wrappers and fixes throw pillows, arranges his sheets. he was a clean man for the most part— he had been so distracted with his studies that there wasn’t much to dirty in the first place. his candles had already been lit so he knew the place smelled fine. he’s pretty positive his loft is clean enough to leave a good first impression.

he fixes loose hairs and straightens out his hoodie and sweats. thank fuck he’d showered not too long ago— he’s beginning to understand why his mother was always so insistent on being clean in case of random pop ups.

when he does finally open the door, there you stood. it was pretty chilly outside this time around, so he wasn’t surprised by the harsh wind flowing in and the clutch of your coat in your hold. your nose began reddening, and you sniffled, scowling from the cold.

you’re so cute, he sends you a smile, “hey.”

“hi,” you replied, sniffling again. “you ever planning on letting me in?”

“dunno,” he crosses his arms over his chest. he leans against the doorframe, ignoring the way he was starting to feel the frosty wind setting in his bones, “maybe if you ask nicely.”

you shoot him a deadpanned look, “move.”

“no.” geto smiles, “try again.”

“move, now.” a small pout is starting to form on your lips. he really liked testing your patience, since it always seemed to run low. you must’ve met your match— because geto always had time to fuck around.

“close, but not quite.”

“oh my goddd,” you groan, and that’s when he decides to let up. it really is colder than a bitch outside and he’d already kept you waiting while tidying up. he lets out a chuckle when you turn to the side, “i’m leaving— too damn cold for this.”

“alright, i’m playing,” geto widens the door. you stop your movements and glare at him. he aims an arm towards the inside of his loft, “don’t go, come in.”

you grumble something beneath your breath but comply, walking right past him. he follows behind you, shutting the door close and is immediately greeted back with warmth. you slip your shoes off and place them on the rack, before stepping in further into his apartment.

he slides his hands into his sweatpants’ pockets, catching up to you in the living room. your head is tilted upwards as you inspect the place though you remain in place. he stands beside you, bumping his shoulder into your arm, “so? up to your standards?”

you’re quiet for a while, letting your eyes roam around as the words build in your mind, “it’s typical,” you shrug but don’t elaborate. you’ve been staring at an art piece he’d done first year when he was fried out of his mind. you shift your gaze back to him, “where do i put my shit?”

“you can leave it in my bedroom, if that’s fine.” geto suggests and you nod wordlessly, to which he leads you to the second floor. he’s walking up the stairs and prays he doesn’t fall flat on his face— his socks can be a real bitch sometimes.

you both make it to his bedroom, with you trailing a little behind. he grabs a hanger from his mobile clothing rack, stretching an arm out to you, “i’ll hang your jacket here.”

you slide off the coat from your frame and hand it to him, to which he hangs on the rack. you circle around his bedroom with your tote on your shoulder, while he makes his way back to next to his desk. it’s pretty quiet for the most part, besides the music playing gently in the background.

your gaze lands on the cluttered items on his desk, noticing the half empty cup of coffee, notebooks and ipad on display, “did i catch you at a bad time?”

“honestly? yeah,” geto shrugs, before motioning at your tote bag. you slip it off and hand it to him, to which he sits at his nightstand, “but it’s my fault anyway, i squeezed you in a busy time. you know how exam season gets.”

“i can always reschedule,” you offer, checking your phone screen for the date, “it’s not that deep.”

“i don’t want you to leave,” geto slumps back into his seat and heaves out a sigh. he spins the chair around to catch you giving him a flat look. he leans back in his seat and spreads his thighs, smirking, “would you stay?”

“depends. are you going to be studying?” you quip, crossing your arms back to your chest.

geto ponders on what to say next. it’s not like he doesn’t want to tatt you up, but he really is caught in a bind. he also doesn’t want you to leave— not when he’s been wanting to see you since the last time he’d seen you. does he prioritize his wants or his needs?

he hums, “i’ll do whatever you want me to.”

you roll your eyes, scoffing as you make your way to his nightstand. for a second, he thinks you’re getting ready to leave and a weird feeling of disappointment settles in his gut. instead, you grab the bag and sit on the edge of his bed, pulling out your macbook and crossing your legs.

he smiles at that, “attagirl.”

“corny.” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip as you begin typing away.

there’s a comfortable silence that fills the room. he’s back to browsing through his lecture notes, noting down valuable information and memorizing terminology. you don’t say anything either, but the sound of your nails typing at your keyboard blends well with his r&b playlist playing. sounds like you’re writing down an essay or report, depending on whatever your major is.

about half an hour into the silence, does he decide to break it. he looks over his shoulder to where you’re settled on his bed, “you good?” he checks up on you, and you let out a burnt out sigh. he knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“i guess,” you huff, twirling your necklace. your eyes are stuck on your screen, brows creasing into a scowl, “this shit is frying my brain though.”

“what are you writing?” he indulges, dropping his apple pen back onto his desk and spins in his seat to face you. maybe he’s also in due of a break— he’d rather be talking to you anyway.

“this crim report,” you answer, picking at your nail, “it’s not exactly hard but mad lengthy. i have to write a ten page report based on this article and how it contradicts societal norms.”

“ten pages?” geto whistles, rubbing at his chin. he’s settled deeper in his seat, naturally manspreading. you’re much better than him, he would’ve given up before even starting— reports were not his thing, “how far are you in?”

“i started this morning,” you hum, “so i’m four pages in.”

geto nods, “and when is it due?”

“tomorrow night.” you push your laptop off your lap. you close the screen shut and stretch out your legs, releasing a breathy moan as you relax your thighs. “i’ll do this shit later— my head’s starting to hurt.”

geto swears he’s never been so in sync in thought. he dismisses the idea of studying the second you had closed your macbook. probably a bad idea but at the moment, he couldn’t care any less, “want some entertainment?”

you cock a brow, “don’t say no stupid shit.”

“twenty one questions,” geto speaks nonetheless and finds himself beaming brightly when you scoff, “can’t a guy want to get to know you better?”

you ease yourself on his bed, slumping into his sheets as you exhale. you shift onto your side— a sinful curve at your side— tucking your knees and lean your head into your palm, “oh fuck off,” a breathless laugh and nanako makes her presence known, hopping right by you in the space between your body and the edge of the bed, “didn’t know you had a cat. she’s cute.”

“how’d you know she was a she?” geto wonders, surprised just slightly by how welcoming nanako was around you. she purred when you stroke at her fur, nuzzling further into your chest. nanako hated everyone— especially gojo, who unironically visited the most.

“instinct,” you shrugged but there’s a faint smile on your lips. not directed towards him, but his baby, “i also have a cat— he’s a fucking menace though.”

that’s one thing in common already, “like mother like son,” geto grins lazily when you flip him off mindlessly, and when you raise nanako in both your hands, he’s ready to warn you she isn’t a big fan of sudden movements— but when she mewls, the same sound she makes when geto brings home a new toy, the words die down in his throat.

he observes you both silently. you cradle nana as if she were a newborn infant, adoring and loving yet simultaneously careful and steadily. you’re cooing, calling her a sweet girl and rubbing at her ear, and nanako accepts you rather easily— too easily.

“woah.” was this those non-sexual turn ons people spoke about? for somebody so mean, you were oddly gentle with pets. he liked that— really liked that, so much that he pulls his phone out and snaps a photo of you two. but of course, because the universe loves to see him fumble, the flash goes off.

your head snaps to the side and he freezes. you narrow your eyes at him, slowly lowering nanako, “did you just—”

“so!” geto cuts you off, chucking his phone back onto his desk. it makes a loud cluttering sound, damn near knocks his drink all over, but ignores it, “my turn. what’s your cat’s name?”

“milo. and don’t cut me off—”

“milo the menace,” he cuts you off regardless, not wanting to have to decipher just what exactly possessed him to do that. he’s never done so, and he wasn’t about to explain why he’d done it just now. deflecting king! “i need to see the little guy. got any pics?”

you huff, extending a hand behind you to find your phone. when you clutch onto the device, you swing your legs off the bedside, always careful with nanako clinging to your lap. you lay her down on the floor, much to her dismay, before making your way towards him.

his eyes are stuck on your body before his mind can tell him to stop. not like it mattered much, your own eyes glued to your phone screen as you searched for the pictures he’d asked. you’ve got a matching tracksuit on— though the hoodie is cropped, thus exposing your navel piercing. he’d always had a thing for those, the pretty good jewel dangling below the button.

it didn’t help that your thong straps sat atop your waist.

he spreads his legs further open, and you stop right in between. for a moment, you’re stuck on your phone, and geto really wants to get those thighs straddling him. you look delectable— he’d pin your knees to your damn ears, sprawled on your back, and eat you out until you pleaded him to stop.

your hair was pulled back into a bun, and from this angle, he spotted scripture at the column of your neck. there was wording inked in arabic, and he made a mental note to ask you what it meant later.

geto leans back into his seat when you fold forwards, and he gets a good whiff of your vanilla scented perfume, tingling his senses in the best way, “found it?”

you nod your head, swiping through your gallery, “yeah, my bad,” you have a folder named ‘mimi’ and as expected, was filled off candid photos of your cat. he pays attention as you slide your finger on your screen, selfies of you both in the morning passing by.

“cute,” he isn’t talking about the cat, and his gaze flicks from the screen to your face. there’s still a considerate amount of space between you both, but he can see your eye colour much clearer this close up. you blink your lashes at him and he smirks, “anything else you wanna show me?”

you sniff, “don’t be gross.”

“i meant of milo,” geto definitely didn’t mean of milo. you cock a brow skeptically, and he mirrors the look, though the smile on his face grows, “what a cute lil thing,” his voice lowers and his words trail off. there’s a beat of a pause for a while, and his gaze falls on the plumpness of your lips, “you gonna let me pet your kitty?”

another beat of silence. you’re staring at his lips, and he wonders what you’re thinking. he can tell you’ve picked up on what he’s laying down (hopefully you in the next few minutes) but he can’t tell what your next move will be.

“depends. . .” a soft whisper, and he feels your breath fanning over his cupid’s bow. you flick your eyes back at him, and he finally understands the whole siren eyes shit. through lidded eyes, your stare is intense— simultaneously pulling him in closer while pushing him back. you’re toying with him, and the hand he slides up from your thigh to your ass is enough fuel. “you any good?”

he brings a second hand to the other ass cheek, and urges you onto his lap. you comply, looping your arms at the back of his neck. he feels your nails grazing at his scalp and he holds back a lethal shudder. your weight feels amazing against him— his hard on poking and making its presence well aware.

“i’d like to think i am,” he knows he is, but playing humble always goes a long way. he lets his hands run over the cup of your ass, trails back up to your hips, and slides a finger beneath the thong strap. when he snaps the material at your skin, your back arches and you press your chest against his own.

“well,” you exhale when he noses into the crook of your neck, right above your tattoo. he’s littering wet kisses at your hot skin, your taste ever so sweet against his tongue. god, you must taste divine. at your jugular, he’s able to imprint your perfume into his mind. “only one way to find out.”

geto hums at that, relishing in the way you moan at a particular suck, and focus on nibbling at that spot once more. you’re tilting your head for easier access, hips grinding against his own for better friction. your hands are soft and cautious— they trail from his nape down to his chest, and further down to his waistband.

he’s on go, ready for whatever timing you’re on. though, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out by the way your fingertip traces right above his pelvis, that you’re both on the same page. he drags his lips from the column of your neck up to your jaw, and stops right above your parted lips.

he has another cocky remark on the tip of his tongue, in typical suguru fashion, but you beat him to the chase, glossy lips pressing against his. the kiss is short and definitely leaves him wanting more when you pull back as soon as you’d leaned in— but you’re a mere centimetre away.

you whisper, not before another kiss, “don’t disappoint me, suguru.”

and he’s never ran into bed so fast.

☆ ☆ ☆

the door slams shut.

he’s left with a painfully hard reminder in his sweats that he fucked up bad. he thinks he dissociated a little between the labia flapping to the coat zipping. it’s only when he notices that instead of hearing lip smacking sounds, he hears bryson tiller’s lame ass (no shade, his ego is simply wounded), that you really left.

fuck.

geto rushes back to his bedroom, the walk of shame up the steps enough to make him want to jump off— as he takes out his phone, immediately goes through his contact list and presses on the name. it rings twice before the call gets picked up.

“yooo!”

“you still busy?” geto asks, voice hoarse as he flops down on the edge of the bed— his now empty bed. damn.

“nah, just dropped off wifey,” gojo replies. he hears music playing faintly in the back, as well as the sounds of honking. he must still be in the car, “why, what’s up?”

“i fucked up.” geto sighs, running a hand over his face.

“oh?” he isn’t surprised to find out gojo’s surprised. he’s still surprised by how the events turned out and it’s barely been ten minutes, let alone five. “say no more, i’m on my way.”

geto hangs up. he throws the phone away, before falling flat onto his bed. he picks up your scent on his sheets, your warmth slowly disappearing— another painful reminder he messed up. where he’s expecting a wet patch of anything on his duvets, he finds nothing. zip. nada.

his eyes fall shut, “shit.”

☆ ☆ ☆

“and that’s pretty much the gist of it all.”

he exhales a cloud of smoke. more silence. geto’s starting to get sick of all this silence. it was radio silence with you and now even more radio silence from gojo. his hand never stops to rub at nanako, who’s been serving as a cuddling partner in this grand moment of crisis. the only person to ever have his back.

so, geto knew that confiding in his best friend this secret of his would be risky for a multitude of reasons. for starters, geto never fucks up. this would be ultimate blackmail content for him, and geto honestly doesn’t blame him. for two, he was just giving gojo shit about never having eaten pussy. that’s just downright humiliating. and for three, he has a girlfriend who he doesn’t keep anything from. on top of that— his girlfriend is friends with the main culprit here.

overall a bad idea. he does it nonetheless, because satoru is his best friend despite it all. he isn’t too shocked when the silence is filled with bellyaching laughter, though.

“wait— i’m cryinggg,” more laughter. gojo’s now kicked his feet off the couch and is doubling forward. his shades bounce off his head and hit the leg of the coffee table. he doesn’t pause his laughing fit one bit, not even when geto throws a throw pillow his way.

it bounces off his big head and geto scoffs, bringing the joint back to his lips, “oh fuck off.”

“my fault man,” gojo apologizes though he doesn’t sound apologetic. he’s leaning forward to grab his shades back, and he’s back to swiping stray tears. “that was a good laugh— shit.”

geto hums at that, extending the blunt towards him,“glad to hear my misery has brought you entertainment.”

“see, you get it!” gojo jokes, welcoming the joint. seems like he got cocky, however, his laughing mood not quite over as he inhales. he quickly chokes on the smoke, which fades back into cackling, “oh shit—”

geto sneers, annoyance quickly rising, “quit fucking around or pass it back.” he was being pissy, yes, but his pride had been curb stomped. and it hadn’t even been an hour ago!

“nah, nah, i’m good,” gojo waves him off, despite his free hand tapping at his chest. he collects himself soon enough, and takes another hit. this time it’s successful. geto lowkey hoped it would get caught in his throat again.

“sooo,” gojo drags out, melting into the couch, “what now.”

“what now?” geto parrots.

“what’s the next move?” gojo elaborates, fingertip tapping at the blunt, and ashes fall into the tray. the end of the stick crumbles in the same way geto’s ego had earlier. “you’re gonna keep letting her think you suck at giving head?”

geto throws his head back and sighs tiredly, “what else is there to do?” he hears the sound of sizzling in the background, “i fumbled bad, bro. you don’t think she already posted about me in her girls’ private story?” more sizzling and exhaling, “i’m the storytime of the day!”

he feels gojo nudge his thigh with his foot. he looks back and the joint is presented to him. he gladly accepts it.

“what even happened?” gojo wonders. and oh boy, if that isn’t the question of the day. geto is still trying to find the answer to that. had it been out of nervousness? had he gotten too cocky? had it been her?

“i honestly wish i could answer that,” geto slips the roach into his mouth. “i didn’t feel nervous until after i realized she wasn’t fazed,” he drags out a hit and ghost inhales, “maybe it was a sign from above— to shut the fuck up sometimes.”

“maybe,” gojo snorts, throwing his legs over geto’s lap. nanako hisses at the intrusion, but the white haired man ignores her, “don’t let yourself go out sad like this. hit her back up— whatever happened to loving challenges?”

“what kind of fucked up ass challenge is this?” geto mumbles, mainly to himself.

“if i was in your shoes— which i’d never be,” because he’s gojo, he feels the need to add, “i’d put my pride aside and talk to her. like no homo shit, but you’re a great eater— yeah, no, i’m taking that back instantly.”

geto looks as horrified as he feels, “quickly, even.”

of course, gojo laughs but proceeds, “the point is, you know you’re good at it. everybody fucks up once in a while— don’t let it define you though. think of it as a minor setback for a major comeback— if you care enough, you’ll put your pride aside and do something about it. if you’re this down about it, then it must mean something to you.”

geto can’t tell anymore whether gojo’s talking about the failed pussy eating attempt or you. regardless, he knows there’s truth to his words. has to be the weed talking.

“and who made you the pussy connoisseur?” geto snorts, pressing the bud of his joint in the tray. it sizzles weakly as he kills it, starting to feel that high course through his veins.

gojo sighs dreamily, “why my lovely lady, of course.”

“looks like she taught you well,” geto relaxes himself into the tight space of the couch, settling nanako on his chest. it’s now his turn to nudge gojo with his foot, his sock-cladded toe digging at his jaw. “woulda never expected this from a rookie just a few months ago.”

“well duh,” gojo swipes his foot away, “i aced that course. got my phD in cunningulusophy and all. even won valedictorian.”

geto laughs, resting his lids. he was starting to feel sleepy, indica will do that to you, “enroll me in whatever class you took— i may need to slut myself out for extra credit. my prof’s a tough nut to bust.”

“intro to munch 101,” gojo nods his head, shutting his eyes close as well. there’s a comfortable silence that fills the air for a while. and despite the fact that his sight manipulated, he could hear the smirk dripping off his tone, “if you ever need a letter of recommendation, i got you— alumni’s honour.”

“oh fuck off,” a mixed harmony of laughter and vibrating chests.

☆ ☆ ☆

fun fact: suguru geto loves showers.

the aroma of cleanliness enhanced by thick fog. the scorching water droplets trickling down his skin, the vulnerability of his nakedness inside these four walls. he strangely feels most at ease, most raw in this moment of solitude.

he’s able to gather himself too. there isn’t much to accomplish in a shower once you’ve gotten rid of the day’s dirt. so, he likes to take the opportunity to think. to think deep and hard.

his mind’s all scrambled up. it’s been about three days since you were last in his apartment, two days since he’d thought about it, and a day since he last seen you (granted it’d been on your story, virtually, but still).

this has been the biggest feat he’s faced in a while. if he recaps it, this is what’s he gotten: he invited you over. you came the next day. he didn’t cater to you the sole reason you came. you didn’t mind. you both studied for a bit. he asked about your cat. you ended up on his lap. he ended up in bed with you. you ended up leaving with a chunk of his dignity.

that didn’t explain shit, but it did remind him of his failure. it reminded him that he’d finally met his match. it reminded him he needs to start backing his shit up. it reminded him of how good you smelled and tasted down there. it reminded him of how pretty you looked.

his cock twitches and he glances down. it also reminds him he never ended up cumming, too engrossed in his anxiety to jerk one out.

he feels as though the glass doors of his shower protect him from reality. he’s hard, though mortified, but still hard. he’d spent a long time (two days) suppressing the memory away, but there was no way to mistaken your taste on his tongue. how sweet you smelled. how soft you felt—

geto fists at his dick before he can help it. his free hand plants at the wall before him, and he works his wrist. he twists at his shaft slowly and closes his eyes— behind his lids are photographic memories of you on his lap. memories of you on his bed. memories of the scent of your panties. memories of your tits in his mouth.

sure, you’d made more sounds off the foreplay for the foreplay— but that didn’t take away how turned on he’d been. how his dick twitched in his boxers. how he’d humped the mattress. how he’d moan in your cunt.

“y/n,” geto moans your name, sinful yet hushed, his hand working faster. his thumb grazes his over slit and his gut drowns in heat. he wants a redo. he deserves a redo— you deserved a redo. “fuckkkk,”

next time, he’ll get it right. and if he doesn’t, then he’ll want to try again and again and again— until it ends with your cunt clenching around his tongue and his face sprayed vigorously in your essence. until your thighs tremble around his face, your hand clawing at his hair and your back arched off his bed. until his name bounces off his walls and echoes so loudly his neighbours complain.

he wants a redo.

he jerks back as he paints the tiles white. the joints in his hand ache, the water from the shower head getting colder. geto pants heavily, chest heaving as his load is released from him. his cum drips from the wall and into the drain at his feet— but his dick is far from well spent. if he spends another hour in the shower, it’s nobody’s business but his own.

suguru geto loves showers.

☆ ☆ ☆

“oh. you actually showed.”

“redo,” geto pants, having sprinted from his apartment. he’d spent the next three days after his shower incident wallowing some more— at some point, it just annoyed him. though slightly underwhelming, he was on his phone in bed a few minutes ago, going through his camera roll when he’d seen that picture he took of you and nanako. his feet guided him to his car before he could help it. choso helped him out with the address.

“redo?” you parrot his words, leaning against your doorframe. you crossed your arms over your chest, and it’s only then he noticed your appearance— flimsy camisole and pink lace panties. fuck, he wants a redo now.

“i want a redo.” geto repeats, but is quickly hit with a gust of wind. he hadn’t brought a jacket with him in the midst of his impulse, and goosebumps were beginning to form at his skin. he shoots his shot, “you ever planning on letting me in?” talk about deja vu.

“dunno,” you play along, eyes narrowing. “maybe if you ask nicely.”

swallow your pride, he hears gojo somewhere in the back of his mind. he shakes that thought off quickly. this desperation had to be bigger than a pride issue— he was ready to get on his knees and beg her to let him in. pride? that had been drained to the sewers the second he busted all over his shower days ago.

“lemme in and i’ll make it up to you,” geto tries instead, taking a step closer, “please?”

that seemed to be the correct answer as you push open the door to your apartment further. you turn your back and geto lets himself drink up your backside— he hadn’t seen it last time but you had dimples sitting right above your perky ass. he watches your hips sway left and right, and even tilt your head back, a smirk etched on your face, “you comin’?”

you will be, “cute.” his lips twitch into a small smile, and closes the door behind him.

☆ ☆ ☆

fool him once? shame on him.

geto doesn’t allow himself to make the same mistakes twice. if one fuck up is enough to tear him down for a week straight then why the hell would he do it again?

you’re sprawled on your back, legs spread with enough space to fit his body in between. his hands plant on either side of your face, his bulge pushed up against your core. he feels your warmth through these layers of clothes, and he rolls his hips greedily, feeling himself already grow addicted. your chin is raised high, lids blown open as you stare at him all doe-eyed.

his brows pinch in the centre of his forehead. that faux look of innocence you’re offering is doing wonders to his dick. your tits sit beautifully beneath your top, arms back on him as you pull him in closer, and he lets himself fall prey to you. for a moment, the tip of his nose bumps into yours, lips ghosting over the other, hips colliding to meet yours.

“mhm, that’s it.” you let out a sigh, throwing your head back into your pillows. there’s an opening to your neck calling his name, and geto wastes no time to latch his lips there. he slips a hand beneath your tank top, fingernails grazing over your skin to creep up to your mounds. he flicks a thumb over the bud and you sigh blissfully again— he then cups the flesh.

he loves the way you squirm when he kisses down your body, “i got you, pretty,” stripped from your cami, his lips leave open mouthed marks all over your skin. from the column of your neck, to your breasts, down your torso and past your navel, “let me take care of you.” the lower he gets, the more intense your rawness reeks— and it’s a damned good smell.

he lands right above your clothed pelvis, and he inhales sharply. he won’t make the same mistake this time, he can feel it. there’s something lingering in the air, something indescribable— but he’s confident he won’t. because when he skips your cunt in favour to pamper your inner thighs, dragging his wet tongue all over erogenous zones, he spots dampening right where your clit would be.

bingo.

your hand cradles his hair, and the other props your body up by the elbow. he glances up at you, cock throbbing against your mattress. your beauty still renders him speechless— runs his throat dry and makes his tongue feel heavy. he doesn’t want to decipher what this means either, and decides to conclude he’s simply thirsty for you.

“suguru,” you call at him. he blinks and the hand in his hair snakes down his neck, and pushes him deeper. his nose nudges at your throbbing clit, and his tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick at the damp material before he can help it. two fingers hook at your panties and push them to the side, revealing glistening folds. your slick drips between your crack and stains your sheets. he thinks he hears his stomach growl a little.

another swipe of his tongue, this time in contact with the raw you, and a breathless moan rips from you, “don’t disappoint me this time.”

and he feasts.

☆ ☆ ☆

gojo’s woken up to a notification from his phone.

it’s still pretty late— or maybe early, and his pretty girlfriend is miles away in lalaland. she snores softly, cuddling into his side, and gojo’s ready to cuss out whoever dares potentially meddle with his girl’s sleep. he’s starting to get grumpy.

when his phone undergoes face recognition, he lowers the brightness immediately. he swipes through his notification center and notices an attachment sent by geto.

now that peeks his interest. he presses on the message.

suguboo: [1 attachment]

suguboo: passed intro2munch101 with an A+ 🫡

gojo can’t help the laugh that leaves him, though is quickly quieted down when he feels stirring at his side.

“well i’ll be damned.”

yes, gojo is obsessed with his girlfriend. also 10k words on geto???

#rena☆star.#geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #geto x you #geto suguru x you #jjk smut #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto oneshot

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sleepymarimo · 1 year ago

Text

𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕣!

summary: the first time you make their heart skip a beat, w/ monster trio + law! pairing(s): luffy x gn!reader, zoro x gn!reader, sanji x gn!reader, law x gn!reader cw: none! an: ahhhh idk how to feel about this one but i hope you enjoy :') 👐

luffy

there are a lot of things that get luffy's heart racing.

a good meal. a cool looking fish. a killer party. all of it makes this captain happy, because he revels in the adventure. he lives for the moment. he feels deeply and strongly, a trait that acts as a double edged sword.

like now, as a torrent of anger and worry swirl in his chest and weigh him down. he's running through some dense woods, bursting through trees and falling down hills, a look of determination on his face.

an enemy had managed to sneak up on the crew.

what's worse? they ran off. with you.

luffy doesn't think twice. he pushes through anything in his way for the sake of finding you before things got too rough. as he runs, he finds the enemy's actions cowardly. someone using you to draw him out makes him irritate. he doesn't care if he's falling into some trap; he'd deal with whatever was put in front of him so long as he could rescue you.

he's worried for your well being, of course he is. even though he can't see you, he can feel you. his observation haki lets him know how frightened you are, a fact that makes him all the more angry.

then finally, in the distance, he catches sight of you.

you're in a clearing, the enemy looming over you. they're raising a weapon in your direction, much too close.

luffy feels his blood boil. he grabs ahold of some trees, running backwards and preparing to launch himself in your direction as fast as he can. his rubber arms grow taut as he stretches, his mind set on rescuing you.

an annoyed huff leaves him when he hears the enemy taunting you, threatening your life and mocking your ambitions. it has luffy's anger rising, because there was no way he'd let your dreams get made fun of. by anyone.

his thoughts become hazy, his strong feelings taking hold of his actions.

then, luffy hears it. it's like a melody, absolute music to his ears.

your laugh.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his head clears.

he can feel a big smile curling at his lips. his grin is all teeth, his eyes shining with equal parts pride and mischief. it's like a fire has been lit in his soul, like he's a toy that's just been wound up to the max.

even in your current predicament, even when you're utterly terrified, you have faith in yourself. in him.

if you can laugh, then so can he.

finally, he yells out his signature move, launching himself at the enemy and landing a punch so hard that it makes the air itself tremble.

"luffy!" you call with some tears prickling in your eyes, your limbs still shaky from the adrenaline. your smile falters at the edges, relief flooding your body. "you made it!"

your captain comes to life upon seeing your smile up close, his heart beating like a drum. his rubber arms wrap around you and he squeezes you to his chest, his laughter ringing in your ears.

"of course i did!" he grins, grabbing you by the hand and urging you to run with him to the ship. his grip on you is tight and secure. glancing back at you, he can't help but feel grateful to have you with him on this journey.

he snickers, letting emotion run through him without restriction. "you made my heart feel funny!"

zoro

after another victory, the straw hat pirates found themselves reveling in drinks, food and company.

for a while, the swordsman finds himself amidst the other heavy drinkers. he grins and knocks back bottle after bottle, content with listening to the animated conversations around him and observing the party.

eventually though, he craves some solitude. and so, he heads off towards a less occupied area where he can drink in peace.

he basks in isolation, until you manage to find your way to him. a big grin is on your face and he can't help but reciprocate with a small smirk when he notices your inebriated state. unceremoniously, you plop down next to him at a respectable distance.

“hey zo', gimme some!” you nod towards the large bottle he holds, completely immersed in the light, upbeat atmosphere. one of your hands even reaches out, making a sort of grabbing motion.

he possessively tightens his grip on the bottle, his expression hardening slightly as his brows furrowed. "hah? this is mine, go grab your own bottle."

"i don't wanna full drink, jus' need a little more and i'll be good." you answer, well aware of your limits. your tone becomes pleading as you look up at him with puppy dog eyes. "one sip. please?"

with a groan, he relents. he grumbles something about you being lucky that he's in such a good mood, before extending the bottle in your direction.

yet, it appears that you have some more tricks up your sleeve.

instead of grabbing the bottle, you simply tilt your head back and let your mouth hang open. you make an 'ah' sound, waiting for him to bestow you with the gift of alcohol.

he's a little taken aback at first. seriously? you wanted him to pour it for you? ugh, fine...

he rolls his eye and uses his free hand to firmly hold your jaw steady and open, bringing the bottle up and pouring the sake into your mouth.

your hand rests on his, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over his knuckles.

it's all fine at first, until his eyes lock with yours. in that moment, he seems to acknowledge the intimacy of the act, something primal stirring in his gut as he looked down at you. his cheeks redden.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his muscles tense and he goes almost still. he gets so distracted that his hand moves upwards, effectively drowning your face with sake. your head snaps back into its natural position and you start to cough, the alcohol burning your nostrils.

you give the swordsman an incredulous look, wiping the excess sake from your face. “what the hell was that for?”

“you’re the one that moved!” he sharply replies, even though he knows damn well that you were sitting good and still for him.

focusing inward, he seems pleased to feel that his heart is once again thumping steadily. unwavering. what an odd feeling it was, to have his strong heart skip a beat.

i'll deal with that later. he thinks, not at all wanting to open that can of worms.

so, he takes another swig from the bottle and uses one of his large hands to pat you on the back as you continued to cough up sake.

“oi, don’t waste good booze.”

sanji

the cook wasn't used to being spoiled. he's always been a giver, someone who provides and never takes.

he basked in the smiles that formed on the faces of his crew mates, his family, whenever he made them a good meal or protected them. he never asks for anything in return. however, that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t be shown appreciation every now and then.

currently, he's on night watch.

a thick blanket is wrapped around his shoulders, the cold wind nipping at his cheeks and painting them a reddish color. a cigarette hangs from his lips, his breaths coming out as white puffs against the dark sky.

out of the corner of his eye, he can see light pouring out from the kitchen window. how long has that been on? his brows furrow in suspicion as he makes his way over, half-expecting to see luffy attempting to crack open the pantry.

yet when he opens the door, his posture immediately relaxes and he practically melts as he sees you. you're in your pajamas, hunched over the stove with a focused expression. he takes note of the cookbook laid out on the counter, guiding you as you prepared a dish.

he calls your name, his limbs turning to mush as he approached you. "what are you doing here so late? if you're hungry, i'll make you some-"

his nose twitches as he catches the scent of what you're making.

he knows it well because it happens to be one of his favorite dishes. coincidentally, it was one of your least favorites, the scent of it rather unbearable to you.

"you're... you're making..." his cigarette threatens to tumble out of his lips as he gives you a bewildered expression.

he can see your nose briefly scrunch up before you give him a smile, one of your hands holding a wooden spoon and mixing up ingredients on a pan. "yeah. i hope i'm making it right. i mean, it won't be as good as yours anyway, but still."

"mon amour, you shouldn't. i know how much you can't stand the smell of it." he tries to usher you away, placing a hand on yours and insisting that he didn't want you to be queasy. "why're you making this, mon amour? did someone ask you to?"

you shrug and keep a firm hold on the wooden spoon, replying like the answer was obvious. "because i thought it'd make you happy."

ba-dum! ba-dum!

his cigarette does fall to the floor. the hand that's over yours tightens, perhaps his way of grounding himself. he's speechless for a moment, something shaking him down to his very center.

he could almost cry.

"sanji?" you ask, a little concerned for the chef as his eyes seemed to glaze over.

the blond snaps out of it, giving you a smile that's so warm it makes you wonder if the sun had just come up. there's none of that surface level attraction or lust in his gaze, only an authentic appreciation.

thank you. he thinks, feeling light. thank you for caring.

his eyes close as he once again takes in the scent of the dish you're preparing. "it smells great, mon amour. better than anything i've ever made, i’m sure of it."

"i doubt that." you laugh, downplaying his compliment. with a nod, you resume cooking. "it'll be finished by the time you're done with your watch. i can handle it."

sanji thanks you once more, his heart feeling full. returning to his post, he allows you to do something kind for him. he allows himself to take, without worrying about having to repay you.

he quells any lingering thoughts of insecurity and self-doubt, focusing instead on the meal that's sure to be waiting for him in the morning.

law

it was a couple weeks ago that law made the decision to educate the crew a bit more on medical practices.

the surgeon knew that he couldn’t always be around to provide assistance to the crew, so it was only logical that he trained everyone in basic first aid, including you. day after day, he trained everyone, one at a time.

was it a lot? yes. however, law liked to be prepared and felt comfort in being thorough with his teachings, regardless of how tedious it was.

so, finally it was your day to be trained under his watchful eye.

you could tell how passionate he was about his work, how knowledgeable. if you had any questions or wanted to know more about a topic, he took the time to explain it to you properly.

he was quite patient, something you were thankful for since you knew he could sometimes grow frustrated.

when it's all said and done, he quizzes you. he sits atop the exam table, his expression apathetic.

"i'm a patient suffering from shortness of breath, chest pain and dizziness." he flatly says, watching your every move. "what comes to mind? what do you check first?"

you bite at your lip, your head scrambling to come up with any ideas of what your 'patient' could be suffering from. "arrhythmia?" you answer, uncertain. he gives you a pressing look, urging you to continue. "and i... check your heartbeat?"

"good." with a nod of his head, he gestures towards the stethoscope. "go ahead, then. check it and let's see if you get the reading right."

pushing past your initial hesitance, you grab the stethoscope and put it on, gently holding the bell in your hand. placing it on his clothed chest, your expression turns frustrated as you struggle to hear a beat.

he rolls his eyes and calls your name lightly. "you can't place it over fabric. it needs to go directly on the skin."

oh yeah, you needed to place it directly on his chest.

you click your tongue, embarrassed by your slight error. "yeah, yeah, i got it."

with that, your hand slips under the hem of his shirt.

however, instead of holding up his shirt and and placing the stethoscope directly over his heart, your hand slides upward from his abdomen and all the way to his chest.

your fingers inadvertently graze along his skin, tracing a warm path from his navel to his heart.

you're too focused on your task to notice his widening eyes and how his breath hitches.

a content smile forms on your face when you catch the sound of his heartbeat.

ba-dum! ba-dum!

you look up at him, slightly concerned. “i think there's something weird-"

"you're hearing things." he's quick to say, placing a hand over yours and promptly removing it from his person. standing from the exam table, he adjusts his shirt and takes a step back to put some much needed distance between the two of you. "good job today, you did well."

he turns in the opposite direction, not wanting to let his cracked composure show. steeling himself, he takes a deep breath and shakes off any residual feelings of unease.

it was just a fluke. he's quick to think, wanting to be rational.

in the end, he looks over his shoulder and gives you a nod before heading to his study.

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece fluff

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natlovesls2 · 4 months ago

Text

Never Really Over

Lando Norris x Sainz! Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: 18+ MDNI, one bed trope/ forced proximity but barely, slight fake dating, alcohol mentioned/ used, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, small amounts of angst, minimal swearing, talks of marriage and children, please let me know if I missed any

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 3.8k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You and Lando had broken up though decided it was best that no one knew. Max and Kelly's wedding forces you to come together, making it hard to disguise your true feelings. What can possibly go wrong?

.ೃ࿐request: found here

‧₊˚ ✩°��⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

It was difficult being an open book while simultaneously attempting to hide your break up from not only your brother, but anyone who had been invested in seeing the relationship prosper. More often than not you found yourself having to make up answers to questions pertaining to the subject or switch the topic all together. And even if the news of the breakup did somehow come out, you weren’t sure how you’d explain the situation that led to it. The memories of that night were hazy to say the least.

You could faintly remember the fuzzy feeling of alcohol and the buzz of music around you that night. There was no doubt that you had been out at some party or club, as you often found yourself at one. Though everything beyond that felt like a badly painted watercolor portrait; the colors, or events in this case, bleeding together into a cruel image of that night.

“What are you saying?” he asked, voice cracking as he searched your face for an answer. The words coming from your mouth slurred but determined.

“I’m not an idiot, Lando. What else would you be doing when you go out to celebrate your wins for races I didn't attend?”

“You think I’m cheating on you? This is what this whole thing is about?” his voice raised with slight anger.

“Yeah,” you raised your voice back at him. You wanted to blame the sudden burst of jealousy completely on the alcohol, but you knew that would be a lie, there had always been an insecure pit in your stomach that had only been growing since you began dating. “You’re an attractive, famous athlete. It would be weird if you weren’t.”

“What's the point of being in a relationship if you can’t trust me?”

“The door is wide open, Lando. No one is holding you here by force,” you hadn’t meant those words, but they couldn’t be taken back.

“Is that what you want? You want to break up?” you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, let alone answer his question. “Fine,” he whispered, running a hand over his face, pacing around the hotel room, “Alright.”

The only memory that seemed to feel concrete and not muddled by all the drinks of the night prior, was the moment you woke up the following day. The sloppily written note on a receipt from some club letting you know that he had left per your request. And even though he didn’t explicitly say things were over, it wasn’t difficult to understand what the note was implying. Beside the fact that you two no longer interacted as a couple, everything else seemed normal, especially to those who didn’t pry beyond surface level. It was for good reason that you two did this; Carlos would have taken your side regardless of the situation, and you didn’t want to be the root cause of a possible falling out. Maybe that's why you didn’t blame Max and Kelly when they told you that you would be sharing a room with Lando for their wedding.

You had somehow arrived before Lando, taking that time to unpack and mentally prepare to be in such an intimate space with him after such a long time apart. Things were definitely going to be awkward; you were certain you would have to tell everyone the truth about the status of your relationship. It was becoming increasingly clear to you that lying to everyone hadn’t been the best idea. But telling the truth now, when it had been months of lying, was certain to dampen the vibe of the next few days and put a rift between everyone involved. So as Lando walked into the room you couldn't stop yourself from blurting out your disapproval.

“We can’t possibly tell them the truth– it would ruin everything, and I refuse to ruin Max and Kelly’s wedding week.”

He stared blankly at you, shutting the door and placing his suitcase beside it, “Jesus, could you give a man a few seconds. I’ve just barely walked through the door.” You ran a nervous hand through your hair, pacing across the expanse of the room. How could he look so calm about this, you envied how well he played things off. No matter how much things truly affected him, he always had to have an obnoxious nonchalant air to him. “You’re making me dizzy,” he let out a slight chuckle that made your eye twitch.

“I’m sorry for being the only one concerned over this, Lando.”

“More like paranoid. Relax, there's nothing to be concerned about,” he said with a light shrug, throwing himself onto the only bed. It stuck out like a sore thumb, a reminder of how difficult it would be to ignore him over the next couple of days.

“What are we going to do about that?” you asked, nodding towards the bed a tense expression plastered on your usually calm face.

“We’re adults, sharing a bed isn’t a big deal, right?”

“Not a big deal at all,” you agreed, letting out a shaky breath attempting to calm your nerves. He nodded, giving you an awkward smile– the only sign of the emotions he was hiding behind his mask. For a moment you were sure he was just as concerned as you were, if not more.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

Rehearsal dinners, a momentous event for any wedding. Sure, the actual wedding ceremony and reception are consequential, but the rehearsal dinner sets the tone for those two. Landos presence alone hand you high strung, now add the high stake of this fake commitment you both had. The clamminess of your hands increased tenfold as you sat beside him, occasionally giving a small smile as Lando conversed with those around you. The conversations around you seemed to fade as you focused on the napkin in front of you. Its stark whiteness against the deep colors of the tableware around it making it stand out. It almost felt like the napkin was taunting you, as if saying, “You’re not fooling anyone, you two stand out as much as I do in this sea of real couples.”

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks you from across the table, face etched into a mix of concern and suspicion. Your silence throughout this whole ordeal becoming a clear indicator that something was wrong.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you're okay,” he repeated, eyes glancing between you and Lando.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you responded with a shaky smile.

Carlos' eyes narrowed at you, clearly not buying your answer, he seemed to want to say more but hesitated. Lando quickly intercepted the conversation moving on to a topic he could easily control.

“How much do you want to bet that Max will cry tomorrow?” Lando asked, a playful smirk making its way onto his face, “I say he starts crying as soon as he gets ready for the ceremony.”

“I bet you’ll cry more at your wedding,” Carlos says smiling at you and Lando, it's clear he's fond of the idea of a wedding between his sister and close friend.

“Yeah, probably, but we have a few more years until we even start worrying about that,” Lando placed a hand behind your chair, his fingers gently grazing the exposed skin of your back.

“You didn’t deny the idea of a wedding, does that mean you plan to marry my sister?”

“Let's slow down, mate. I'm not going to deny or admit anything,” Lando let out a laugh, tracing soft shapes onto your shoulder. For once his words and actions didn’t feel forced, as if this were second nature to him. It was almost impossible to tell if he was being truthful in his response or if it was all part of the act. You stared at the half empty glass of wine in front of you, hands moving on their own accord to bring the glass to your lips allowing you to nearly down it all in one go. You were going to need a lot more to drink if you were going to sell the act.

Maybe you had underestimated how much you had to drink or perhaps everything was becoming too hard to control. You felt Landos arm wrap around your waist as he guided you back to your shared room, whispering about something you had done though you didn’t catch what he said and you could hardly remember the rest of the dinner.

“You’re a lightweight,” Lando sighed as he sat you at the edge of the bed, kneeling down to unstrap your heels. His touch against your bare ankle felt nothing short of electric, something so intense and mind numbing.

“I’ve missed you,” you drunkenly admit, running your foot against his chest.

His grip on your ankle tightens in an attempt to hinder your movement, “hm,” he hums out as a response, impulsively lifting your leg up to press a small kiss to the inside of your ankle. The familiar pressure of his lips against your skin erupts your skin in goosebumps.

“We’re more in love than ever before,” you say, giving Lando one of the most sincere smiles he's seen from you in a while, his grip on your shoulder tightening slightly as you talked to Kelly, “Right, Lando?”

“Absolutely madly in love,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. He hadn't expected you to move and plant your lips against his in a sloppy drunk kiss, drawing laughs from those around you.

His lips continue to travel up your calf, his eyes trained on your face to catch any glimpse of change in your expression. He pushes you down against the bed, hovering over you, “You’re drunk,” he lets out a sigh, resting his head in the crook of our neck.

“And?”

“We shouldn’t do this while you're drunk– I refuse to do this while you're drunk,” Lando whispers, unsure if he's trying to convince you or himself, “I don’t want you to regret this when you're sober, and it's just wrong.”

You grab his face, pulling him away from his hiding spot in your neck. You stare at him for a while before bringing his face closer to your own, gently meeting your lips in a surprisingly fluid kiss.

Lando quickly pulls away, standing from his spot on top of you, “No, not while you’re… like that,” he rubs a hand on his face, gesturing frustratedly at you. He grabs a pillow and a sheet from the bed, laying on the decently sized couch in the room deciding it would be better to sleep away from you– considering the state you were in.

The blinding light coming from the window awoke you the following morning, your pulsating headache the only reminder of the night before. Lando was already awake, still laying on the couch typing away on his phone. He seemed to feel your gaze on him, “How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting up to get a better look at you, his voice filled with slight concern.

“I’ve felt better, can’t remember shit,” you admit, placing a hand on your forehead as if it would do anything to calm the pulsing headache.

“That's probably for the better,” he stares at you longingly, it's clear that he does remember whatever happened at the rehearsal dinner and your shared room, “we should begin getting ready, we can’t be late to Max and Kellys big day.” You wanted to press him for answers, force him to reveal the source of his distant attitude, but decided against it. Things couldn’t get more tense between you, especially not tonight.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

The wedding ceremony had been beautiful, Max had indeed cried almost as soon as Kelly began to make her way towards him. And even now as they sat together at the wedding reception you could catch the hint of a happy tear poke its way out of his eyes.

You felt Landos hand slip around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. He had remained by your side since the wedding ceremony, refusing to leave you for even a second. His actions felt less forced than they had previously felt. And as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear bits and pieces of the day prior began to escape the floodgates of your mind.

You let out a small giggle as Lando whispered into your ear, “stop it, you’re not acting like yourself. They’ll catch on,” his breath tickling you.

“I just love you so much,” you whispered back, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips, giggling to yourself like a child. You’d never been big on PDA but in your drunken state you couldn’t seem to keep your hands and lips off of Lando.

“You too are adorable, as in love as when you first started dating– perhaps even more in love,” Alexandra said from beside Charles, smiling between you and Lando.

“Our love has definitely grown. We’re going to get married and have kids,” you leaned into Landos touch, your smile widening at Alexandra's words.

“Okay, you've had way too much to drink– I think it's time to go to bed. We’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Lando announced to the table, shaking his head with a nervous laugh.

“Oh we’re sure you're gonna go to bed,” Daniel teased, causing the table to erupt in laughter.

“Hey, you okay?” Lando asked, concern written all over his face, his eyes dancing across your face.

“Yeah.”

“You spaced out, didn’t even react to what I said.”

“What did you say?” you asked, finally snapping out of the memory of the night prior.

He stared at you, his face still overtaken with concern, “I said, we sold the lie pretty good…” he whispered. If you didn’t know better you'd think he was upset, upset that it was all a show. For a moment he frowned, quickly smiling again, “Lets go dance,” he grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dance floor.

Lando placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close to him, moving you both to the rhythm of the song. He smiled tenderly at you, and everything began to blur into a confusing mess. You weren’t sure what was real and what was a lie fabricated to convince everyone that you were still madly in love. He played the role of loving boyfriend so well that you were beginning to fall for the charade too, you were starting to believe that he still loved you and had never stopped.

Your head found its way to his chest, resting there as if it were its official home. The both of you continued to silently sway to the music. The world around you seemed to disappear, almost as if you were the only ones that mattered at that moment. It was confusing how you felt so connected to him yet so far.

Lando rested his shin atop your head for a moment. He straightened out his back, bringing your dancing to a halt, hand reaching to grasp your chin so that you were staring at him. “Please tell me you’re not faking it,” he whispered, his eyes desperately searching yours, “tell you still love me. That you’ve meant every fleeting touch, every stolen glance, every kiss you’ve given me this weekend… please.”

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol or his words that made the room around you spin, forcing you to grasp onto the jacket of his suit to stabilize yourself. The music you were dancing to just a moment ago now a murmured buzz in your ear. You wanted to be truthful, to admit that you had never stopped loving him and possibly never would. The look of desperation on his face urging you to confess your soul to him. “Of course I love you” you finally said aloud for the first time in months, relief instantly flooding his face.

Lando cupped your cheek, gently caressing it, a genuine smile spreading across his face. Neither of you had been faking anything, that much was clear as his lips found their place on top of your own. It was gentle, not rushed but relaxed, as if you had until the end of times to relish in each other's presence. He pulled away after a while, letting your lips hover– barely touching, breathing in each other's shaky breaths. “Do you think they’d notice if we left?” he asked, looking around the reception.

“No, everyone is focused on Max and Kelly.”

“Good,” he said, slightly out of breath as he led you towards the exit. You silently thanked Max and Kelly for choosing to have their wedding close to where you were all staying.

It didn't take you long to get back to your room, instantly finding each other in a heated kiss. Bodies pressing against one another as you desperately tried to get closer, almost as if you wanted to become one.

“Take this off,” Lando mumbled against your neck as he pulled at the zipper of your dress in a pitiful attempt to help you get undressed. You let the fabric pool on the floor, kicking off your heels, leaving you exposed to his hunger filled eyes.

“It's not fair that I’m completely naked you’re not,” you complained as he guided you towards the bed, gently pushing you onto it when the back of your knees hit the edge.

He tossed his suit jacket aside, his fingers attempting to quickly and smoothly unbutton his shirt, “better?” he asked as he was left shirtless.

You sat up for a moment, your hands working to rid him of his trousers, smiling and resting back on the bed when you finally succeeded, “Much better.”

Lando pressed himself against you, placing kisses down your neck, “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, your hands tangling themselves into his hair as you pulled him up for a kiss. It was much more rushed than the previous kisses had been, his teeth clashing against your own, your tongues pressing against one another. His hands ran up and down the expanse of your body before finding their new home atop your breasts, each one kneading at them.

You wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his hand down towards your pussy, gasping at his thumb rubbed against your clit. He pulled away from your lips, leaving you out of breath, kissing down your body. "Please,” you whispered as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing soft kisses to your thighs. Running his tongue up your slit, wrapping his lips on to your sensitive nub. Lando continued to switch between lapping at your cunt and sucking at your clit– teasing your entrance with his middle finger, slowly pushing it in. Encouraged by your moans and the wet squelching sound coming from between your thighs, he sped up his actions, swallowing at you like a starved man. You pushed against his head, back arching off the bed as your first orgasm of the night washed over you.

Lando pulled away, smiling up at you, “still know how to get you off,” he said smugly, pressing a quick kiss to your thigh.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you urged him, pulling him back up, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“But teasing you is so fun.”

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your legs around him, quickly switching your position so that you were on top of him. “Don’t make me regret this,” you spat on your hand, taking his hard cock in your hand giving it a teasing jerk.

“Please don’t” he grunted, your finger running against his slit. Your brows drawn together in concentration as you lined him up to your entrance, letting out a shaky breath as sank down onto him. You took a moment to adjust to having him inside you, resting your hand against his chest to steady yourself as you lifted your hips and brought them back down. You let out a shaky breath as you began to ride him, guiding his hands up to your breasts and they bounced with your movement. You had forgotten how full it felt to have him within you– clenching around his cock as he sucked at one of your breasts, rolling the other nipple between his fingers.

Your pace faltered as you lost yourself in the pleasure, letting out loud gasps as Lando began to thrust up to meet your movements. He wrapped his hand around your hips, bringing them down harder to meet his thrusts. Landos pace increased as your nails dug into his chest, rhythm becoming sloppy as he felt his orgasm approach. “I should probably pull out,” he rasped but made no attempt to do so.

“It's okay, I'm on birth control,” you breathed out.

“Shit,” he stilled your movements, spilling inside of you, his fingers finding their way back to your clit in an attempt to pull another orgasm from you. Your head fell into the crook of his neck as you came for a second time. The room around you spinning slightly as you attempted to catch your breath.

“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone?” he asked breathlessly, voice still shaky.

“Definitely.”

“Should we go back?”

“No,” you respond, lifting yourself off of Lando to lay beside him. You had no desire to redress and mingle at the reception after what had happened. You couldn't trust your feet to carry you for the rest of the night, especially when you still felt the dizzying effects of sex.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

They had noticed your absence, and they teased you relentlessly about it the few days after the wedding. You had reconciled with Lando, your relationship going back to the way it was before the stupid argument. And with that reconciliation came the confession, in which you confessed to everyone that you had briefly broken up. Although the break up had been entirely your fault, upon hearing the confession Carlos glared at Lando– muttering not so empty threats to him about not hurting you. You were certain he would have strangled Lando if you hadn’t reconciled.

You smiled up at Lando as you lounged in the living room, resting your head back onto his chest. He placed a lingering kiss on the stop of your head, wrapping his arms around you. This had been your reality since Max and Kellys wedding, pure bliss. You couldn’t experience and explore for one another every waking moment.

“I could stay like this forever,” Lando whispered into your hair, his grip around you tightening as if he were scared to lose you again. Or as if he thought this were a dream and you'd vanish at any moment with the simple sound of an alarm. But you were real and you weren’t going to lose one another again, you wouldn't allow that.

“Me too,” you whispered back, “I love you.”

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: feel free to request something, Beware: I am slow at posting and have a lot of drafts that are yet to be posted. I'm like running on 4 hours of sleep and celsius, so I apologize for the grammar and spelling mistakes. I didn't do this request justice but I tried (I swear)

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aliyahwritings · 5 months ago

Text

PROTECTIVE INSTINCTS.

Summary: Rafe Cameron gets into a fight, and Sassy!Kook!Reader helps him clean up his wounds.

Warnings: childhood friends, overprotective!rafe, alcohol/coke mentioned, blood, dumb ahh inlove, annoying mf.

Words Count: 3163

A/N: my first 'official' post ohmygawwddd!!!! i hope you will all like this. u can imagine this out of the obx plot bc in this universe sarah and rafe lowk get along and she's not w topp*r. i imagine rafe being 20/21 and reader is js a year younger

Getting an invite to Topper's party was supposed to be the highlight of your week—a chance to let loose, drink, dance, and maybe sneak in a smoke or two. You were determined to have fun. You and Sarah had been buzzing about it for days, thrilled at the idea of a night out after what felt like an eternity of being buried under schoolwork. It had been ages since either of you had gone to a party, and with all the stress piling up, you needed the break.

But, of course, Rafe had to go and ruin it by reminding you that he existed and was going to attend the party.

As the night of the party arrived, you spent way too much time getting ready—your reflection in the mirror repeatedly checked as you perfected your messy dark eye makeup. Black heels on, strapless mini-dress in a black fabric. The waist is drawn with a thin, satin black ribbon into a neat bow. The skirt flared out slightly, you knew you looked stunning. Sarah had already sent you a dozen texts about how she couldn’t wait to hit the party, and you were just about ready to go.

When you arrived at the party, it was even more packed than you'd expected. Music thumped through the house, bodies swayed on the makeshift dance floor, and the smell of coke, smoke, and alcohol lingered in the air. Sarah grabbed your hand, pulling you through the crowd as you both laughed. That was exactly the chaos you both needed.

"God, I've missed this!" Sarah shouted over the music as we moved to the dance floor. You smiled, matching her energy, the rhythm pulling your bodies into a sway.

For a while, it was easy to forget everything—school stress, drama, even Rafe’s looming presence at the party.

That is, until you saw him.

Rafe Cameron, leaning against a wall with his usual arrogance, a bottle of beer in his hand and his eyes scanning the room like he owned the place. It wasn't long before his eyes landed on you, and as usual, he didn’t look away. His eyes tracked you from across the room. He always watched you—like it was his job to make sure you were okay, even though you made it clear you didn’t need him playing bodyguard.

You groaned inwardly.

“Just ignore him,” Sarah whispered in your ear, sensing your mood shift. “Come on, let’s dance.”

And you did—letting the music take over as you moved with your friend, blocking out everything else. For a moment, it felt like maybe, you could enjoy the night without thinking about him. You walked away from your friend to get both of you a drink but as you arrived at the bar, a guy who you didn’t recognize walked up to me, his breath hot and alcohol-laced as he leaned in too close, his voice low and crude.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he said with a smirk growing on his face. “You look stunning tonight. That dress—damn, it’s doing wonders to your body.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore him as you focused on getting your drinks. “Thanks, but I’m not interested,” you replied coolly, turning slightly away from him.

“Oh, come on now,” he pressed, undeterred. “Don’t be like that. I could make your night a lot more fun. I know how to show a girl a good time. I could take you somewhere private, just you and me. I bet I could make you feel better than any of the other guys ever could.”

You felt your stomach churn, irritation rising as you glanced around for an escape. “I really don’t think so,” you said firmly, your patience wearing thin. “Just back off, alright?”

But he stepped closer, invading your personal space even more, a cocky grin plastered on his face. “Why're you playing hard to get when we both know you’re a slut. You don’t gotta pretend with me, baby—”

You rolled your eyes, about to insult him but the sound of a bottle smashing to the floor before Rafe’s fist collided with the guy's face.

“Say that again,” Rafe growled, his voice deadly calm as he grabbed the guy by the collar, pulling him close. The crowd around you froze, the music blaring in the background as Rafe’s knuckles bled from the punch he’d just thrown.

The guy stumbled, trying to mumble something that sounded like an apology, but of course, Rafe wasn’t done. His jaw was clenched, his eyes burning with a fury that sent chills down your spine.

“Rafe!” you shouted, pushing through the frozen crowd to get to him. “Let him go!”

But he barely heard you. His focus was locked on the guy, like he was two seconds ago from throwing another punch. It took Topper and Kelce rushing over to pull him off before things escalated any further.

The guy backed away, rubbing his jaw, his eyes wide with fear. “I-I didn’t know, man—”

“I don’t fucking care. Get out of here!” Rafe yelled, cutting him off, his chest still heaving with rage.

You watched as the guy walked away, his tail between his legs. Your attention shifted to Rafe, who turned on his heel and headed towards the stairs. You followed him with your eyes as he ascended until he disappeared into one of the rooms upstairs, shutting the door behind him.

You glanced around, searching for Sarah. When you spotted her you waved to catch her eye. She looked over, and you mouthed, “I’m going to check on Rafe.” Sarah gave you a quick nod.

With a deep breath, you pushed your way through the crowd and made your way upstairs, the noise from the party fading into the background as you reached the top. The hallway was quieter, the air heavier. Without hesitation, you headed straight for the door you saw Rafe disappear behind. You didn’t even think to knock; there was no need for formality between the two of you. It wasn’t in your nature to tiptoe around Rafe, not when you’d known him your entire life.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He glanced up when you entered, surprise flashing briefly in his eyes before it was replaced with that familiar guarded expression.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, “What the hell is your problem, Rafe?” you told him, crossing your arms on your chest. “You can’t just go around hitting people!”

He stood up, glaring at you. “He deserved it,” he shot back. He turned away from you, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Did you hear the shit he was saying to you? You think I was just gonna stand there and let him talk to you like tha?”

You sighed, frustrated but not entirely surprised. This was Rafe—impulsive, overprotective, and always ready to throw a punch when it came to you. “Yeah, I heard it, Rafe—he was talking to me. And I could’ve handled it. I don’t need you acting like my knight in shining armor.”

His head snapped up at that, and he took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Really? You think you could’ve handled him? Because from where I was standing, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

You huffed, shaking your head. "That’s not the fucking point! You always do this. You’re always trying to play the hero when no one asked you to." You met his gaze with a hard stare of your own, refusing to back down.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching as he stepped even closer, closing the distance between you. His voice dropped lower, almost a growl. "Maybe I’m not playing. Maybe I actually give a damn when some asshole thinks he can talk to you like that."

His proximity made the air between you feel charged, and you had to fight the urge to step back. Instead, you held your ground, your heart pounding in your chest. "And maybe you should learn to pick your battles instead of flying off the handle every time someone so much as looks at me the wrong way," you shot back, your voice just as sharp as his.

His lips twisted into a smirk, though there was no humor in it—just frustration. "Pick my battles?" He echoed, his voice low and dangerous. "Like you would ever let me. Every time I try to protect you, you act like it’s some kind of personal offense. Like I’m doing something wrong by giving a damn about what happens to you, Y/N."

You scoffed, crossing your arms tighter across your chest. "Because it’s not about me! It’s about you needing to feel like you’re in control of everything. You can’t just punch your way through life, Rafe."

"It’s not about control. It’s about not letting anyone treat you like that. I’m not gonna stand by and watch it happen. Not when it’s you."

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of his words hanging between you. You sighed, the fight slowly leaving your body. “You’ve always been like this, you know?” you said, your tone softening just slightly. “Even when we were kids. You were always ready to defend me.”

His expression softened, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, well, some things don’t change.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. “You’re impossible, Rafe Cameron.”

He let out a low laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real bite behind it. The anger between you was fading. He infuriated you, but deep down, you knew his heart was in the right place—even if he had a habit of making things way more complicated than they needed to be.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on yours, the tension still there but different now. He stepped closer again, but this time, there was no anger in his movements, just something more... deliberate. His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "You looked good tonight, by the way."

Your breath hitched, and before you could stop yourself, you met his gaze with a smirk of your own. "You’re just now noticing?" you teased, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

"Trust me, I noticed the second you walked in."

You cleared your throat, breaking the intense moment between you two. “Let me see your hand,” you said, trying to refocus on something else.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his usual cocky smirk creeping back onto his face. “What? Worried about me now, princess?”

“Hardly, but you’re a mess and someone’s gotta clean you up before you bleed all over Topper’s sheets.”

He grinned, stepping back slightly and letting you grab his hand. His skin was warm under your fingers, and you tried to ignore the way your pulse quickened as you turned his hand over, inspecting the damage. His knuckles were raw, a few cuts oozing blood.

You glanced around the room, spotting a small bathroom attached to the guest room. “Sit down,” you ordered, nodding towards the bed. Rafe didn’t argue—surprisingly—but the amused smirk never left his face as he sat down, watching you with that intense, unblinking gaze of his. You walked over to the bathroom, rummaging through the cabinet until you found some bandages and antiseptic wipes.

When you returned, Rafe had leaned back against the headboard, legs spread slightly, his arms resting on his knees like he was waiting to be entertained.

“Hold still,” you said firmly as you sat on the edge of the bed beside him, gently taking his injured hand in yours.

"Careful," he teased, his voice low and husky. "I might start thinking you actually care."

You shot him a quick glare, your eyes narrowed. "Or maybe I just don’t want to deal with your whining if this gets infected."

He chuckled, the sound deep and almost... seductive. "Trust me, I’m not the whining type. You, on the other hand, love getting under my skin."

You ignored his comment, though the corners of your mouth twitched in amusement. “Here you go, telling lies. Unlike you, I am responsible—something you wouldn’t understand.”

Rafe’s smirk widened, his blue eyes locked on yours as you worked. “Yeah? Is that why you spent half the night trying to avoid me?” He tilted his head. “You’re terrible at it, by the way.”

“Maybe I was avoiding you because I knew you’d do something stupid. And look, I was right.”

“So, you were watching me all night, huh? Didn’t realize I was that distracting.”

“More like I could sense the chaos coming from a mile away,” you shot back, the corner of your mouth twitching despite your best efforts not to smile.

“Admit it, you’d miss me if I didn’t cause a little chaos.”

You snorted, playfully nudging his good shoulder. “Miss you? I think my life would be way more peaceful.”

He gave a dramatic sigh, clutching his chest with his uninjured hand. “Wow. You really know how to wound a guy. If I wasn’t already bandaged, I’d need another one for my heart.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “Please, Rafe. You’ve got an ego the size of this entire house. I think your heart’s just fine.”

He chuckled, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Maybe. But you like me this way.”

“Oh, do I now?” You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And what makes you think that?”

Rafe leaned in just a little more, that teasing grin still plastered on his face. “Because, no matter how much you complain, you’re always right here. Taking care of me. Telling me I’m an idiot. It’s kind of your thing.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, though the sass in your voice was playful. “It’s called charity work, Rafe. I should be getting paid for dealing with you.”

He laughed, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before flicking back up. “Oh, I’ll pay you back. Trust me.”

You tilted your head, giving him a sly smile. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that?”

Rafe’s grin widened at your challenge, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He shifted a little closer, the air between you growing even more charged. “Oh, you’ll see, princess. But you’ll have to be patient. I know that’s not your strong suit.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you leaned back on the bed, crossing your legs. “Patience? With you? That’s asking for a miracle, Cameron.”

He chuckled, his hand resting just beside your thigh. “Miracle? More like a blessing. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and you know it.”

You shot him a look, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Best thing? Don’t flatter yourself. You’re like a stray dog that keeps following me around, begging for attention.”

Rafe smirked, leaning in so his face was closer to yours, his voice dropping low. "And you love the attention. Don’t act like you don’t.”

“Please, the only thing I love is the peace and quiet I get when you’re not around.”

He let out a mock gasp, putting a hand over his chest. “Ouch. Again.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Dramatic again. Besides, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, that cocky grin never leaving his face. “Me? Can’t take it? You must be thinking of someone else, sweetheart. I can take anything you throw at me.”

You leaned in a little, matching his energy. “Anything? That sounds like a challenge.”

He tilted his head, his blue eyes locking onto yours, full of playful intensity. “It is. Go ahead, try me. What’ve you got?”

You pursed your lips, pretending to think for a moment before smirking. “Alright. How about this? For starters, you’re predictable. Every time something doesn’t go your way, you throw a tantrum or a punch, like you’re still a spoiled little boy.”

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter, if anything, it grew. “Predictable? That’s rich, coming from someone who’s always acting like she doesn’t care when we both know she does.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “I don’t care. I just know how to deal with your dramatics.”

“Right. That’s why you followed me up here, bandaged my hand, and now you’re sitting here flirting with me,” Rafe said, his tone smug.

You blinked, caught off guard for a second. “Flirting? Don’t confuse taking care of your stupidity with flirting, Cameron.”

He leaned even closer, his lips just inches from yours now, his voice a low, teasing whisper. “Oh, so this isn’t flirting?”

You bit your lip, fighting the heat rising in your cheeks. “No. This is me being nice because you’re too dumb to take care of yourself.”

“Sure it is,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that husky tone that always made your heart race. “You’re really bad at hiding it, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow, challenging him. “Hiding what?”

Rafe grinned, his gaze flickering down to your lips for a split second before meeting your eyes again. “How much you like being around me.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re delusional. I’m just here so Topper doesn’t kill you for bleeding all over his stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” Rafe replied, his thumb lightly tracing circles on your thigh, the gesture casual but full of tension. “And I’m sure you’d leave the second I’m patched up, right?”

You blinked, but your voice didn’t waver as you answered, “Absolutely. As soon as I’m done here, I’m out.”

“Really?” His eyes sparkled with challenge, his breath warm on your skin. “Then why haven’t you left yet?”

You faltered, trying to keep your cool, but his proximity was intoxicating. “Because... You needed help for your hand and I couldn't let you be miserable.”

Rafe chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. “Always gotta get the last word, huh?”

“Someone has to,” you shot back, but your voice was quieter, less sharp as the tension between you both thickened.

He watched you for a long moment, his gaze intense but soft at the same time. Then, with that infuriating smirk still on his face, he leaned back slightly. “Alright, I’ll let you win this round. But don’t think I didn’t notice how close you got just now.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up from the bed. “I was checking your hand, not getting close to you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, princess,” he teased, watching you as you walked toward the bathroom to put away the bandages.

You turned back to him, shaking your head with a smile. “You’re annoying.”

“And yet, you keep coming back,” Rafe quipped, standing up and stretching.

And he was right…

tags: @glors3 @mattyskies @cutiebuety @sumlovesjude @dilfluvr4ever @cooper8224 @octaviareina @imawhoretho @drewscoquette @cutiebuety @gracelynnmarielester @amourfolklore @gillybear17 @rafestaurusgf @meekmillsfrenchfries @auriellawp @urdreamgirl12 @katie-the-author @love1deandra @rafecameroninterlude @stargrltara @stupendousturt1e

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flowersforjude · 6 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐚 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Cregan Stark x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | When Cregan Stark begins his search for a wife, some hidden feelings come to light.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6,484(Idk what came over me okay!?)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Mature Content-Explicit Descriptions Of Sex | Friends to lovers, Longing and pining, Love confessions, Possessive!Cregan, Smut: Piv, Oral(fem receiving), Clit biting, Hair pulling, Multiple orgasms, Biting/bruising(VERY MILD), Wife/marriage kink, Size difference.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I did not anticipate Cregan Stark pulling me out of my writing slump. But everyone say thank you Cregan! For those of you waiting for it, Hea Mēre is still coming. I just wanted to post something since I haven’t put any new works out here lately. Hea Mēre is coming SOON, though, I promise.

masterlist

Word had spread that the Warden of the North was in need of a wife. And so the great hall of Winterfell was now a symphony of merry music and proud spoken promises. Nearly every great house in the north flocked to Winterfell’s gates one after the other. Some lords arrived with nearly their whole households in tow. Some only brought their daughters.

Cregan, ever the loyal man, had welcomed them to his home as any good liege lord would. Demanding a feast be thrown in the honor of northern unity.

The revels had been at their height for hours now, and you took in as much as you could handle. As the night wore on, though, you found a need for respite. The boisterous laughter and clambering of drunk men was a muffled sound to your ears now. Out here in the chilly corridors, only the howling wind could truly be heard.

It had been close to a year since Cregan took the seat of his late father. Since then, the north has rallied behind him. Came to pledge their words of fealty and wish their lord prosperity. And now they came again to offer him their daughters, sisters, and nieces. You knew he would take a wife at some point—some point very soon. And because he was a northman through and through, he would marry a northern woman. One from a great house with a long history and ample influence.

For some reason, all your preparation for this moment had done nothing to aid you when it actually came.

The wind swirled around you like a restless spirit, forcing you to wrap your arms around yourself to stave off the chill. You could just go back inside, but all the warmth in the world could not tempt you. Witnessing all the eligible ladies of the north look upon Cregan with hungry and hopeful eyes was an unnecessary cruelty you didn’t wish on yourself. It wasn’t as though you could fault them for it. He was Lord of Winterfell, and as such, he was obligated to take a wife. What woman wouldn’t want that to be them?

You yourself had yearned for it for as long as you could recall. Practically growing up alongside him, youthful companionship had reformed as enrapturing affection. There was not a day where you did not cross paths with him, often purposely carving out time to spend together. You were always available to each other; living within the same keep had made it quite impossible to be apart.

Your father was Master of Arms; being a second son from house Cerwyn, he was granted knighthood in his youth. The late Lord Rickon Stark had appointed him as Master of Arms a handful of years before you were born.

Your father had trained Cregan as a boy. The memory of first meeting him was still clear as glass even after all these years.

The snow was still cool against your cheeks as you sat atop a railing, observing your father working with the boys during one particular day. You had snuck away from your Septa some time ago, preferring the chilled air outside to the stuffy heat indoors. That, and your hands ached from all the needlework you’d been made to practice.

Cregan had caught sight of you almost immediately. Smirking at your attempt to conceal yourself from searching eyes. You smiled back at him, pressing a small finger to your lips silently, asking him to keep your secret.

And he did. He said nothing to your father during the training session. Pretending you weren’t there at all. It wasn’t until your father caught you himself that you were sent back inside with clear instructions to apologize to your Septa for running off.

It was an act of fate that later that day you and Cregan crossed paths in one of the winding halls of Winterfell. In a second long bout of courage, you stopped him to say a proper thank you for not ratting you out.

The rest was simply history.

“I was wondering where you’d run off to.” The low rumble of a voice invaded your troubled thoughts.

The sound of footsteps thudded against the old wood. You turned to see Cregan rounding the corner, his slate eyes resting on you. The flickering torchlight caught the contours of his face, and for a moment, the weight of his presence made your heart race.

“Why are you all the way out here?” He asked, his deep candace rolling over you like thunder.

“I just needed some air.” You answered, hoping he’d deem it a suitable reply. “The festivities got a bit overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a thrill of familiar fondness down your spine. “Overwhelming is one way to put it. I can hardly hear myself think in there.” He stepped closer, the warmth of his body casting like a shield against the cold. “But I am glad I’ve found you.”

You nodded, not catching the implicating tone in his voice. You dropped your gaze to the frost-kissed ground. “I suppose everyone is eager to make an impression tonight. Especially the ladies.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, laced with a bitterness that you were not used to hearing from your own voice.

He noted the sour tone in your words. He himself admitted to being caught offhand at the unexpected abundance of marriage proposals. When he had alluded to wanting to look for a wife, he hadn’t anticipated this. Truthfully, the only woman he would want to wed was standing beside him. In the years of closeness with you, you had unknowingly taken his heart right from him. He recognized the fact that he hadn’t owned his heart for some time now. He had given it to you long before he even realized it.

If he was certain you would accept, he’d have asked your hand in marriage instead of entertaining half the northern population.

“Eager indeed.” He replied, his tone shifting to something more serious. “It is all rather…overwhelming.” He sighed, echoing your words from before.

You disliked seeing him so burdened. In the months since he took the role of Warden, though, that oppressed look marred his handsome features far too frequently for your liking.

“You need not rush into anything.” You consoled, wanting to take his strains and carry them yourself.

He grunted, resting his hands over the pommel of Ice. The great longsword hanging at his side. “Would you have me keep my people in suspense?”

“I would rather you keep them waiting than to risk your own happiness.” You said, your voice softer now, carrying the weight of your concern. Sometimes it felt foolish to worry over him so much, but you supposed that was a condition of loving someone.

“What do you think would make me happy?” The question wasn’t unexpected; he oftentimes sought out your advice just as you would with him. But to speak with him of his potential nuptials felt like a shard of ice was lodged in your chest.

You met his eyes; gone from the silver shine was the frustration replaced with a sort of keenness to know your thoughts. Most would say his eyes were two wild winter storms, and they could be if he was so inclined. But you had always seen them as bright stars hanging high in the sky. Shining down with their silver light that pulled you in and stole your breath.

“I would say marriage to someone who could honor and carry on the traditions of your family.” You replied, a peak of the true depths of your devotion seeping into your words. “A lady that would care for you, and not simply the title that came with you.”

“Someone like you, perhaps?” Cregan suggested a teasing lilt in his voice, but there was no mistaking the tinge of sincerity. He stepped closer then, forcing you to twist your position to where your back was against the railing. His warmth clouded your senses for a moment, causing you to lose track of your thoughts.

“You jest.” You retort, a nervous laugh bubbling from your lips. “This is serious, Cregan.”

His expression shifted, a spark of intensity igniting in his eyes. “I am being serious.” He countered, an unusual tension crackling in the cold air. There was something new swimming in his eyes, firm but soft the longer he looked at you. “You’ve always been more to me than just a companion or a friend. You must know that.”

A scoff sounded from you. “Must I?” You echoed incredulously, your heart pounding in your chest. The chilly air felt electric, humming with unspoken words and emotions that had been buried for too long.

He pressed closer, his presence mudding your resolve. “Yes,” he insisted. “Every time I look at you, all I can think about is how much I crave you by my side above all else.” His voice was low and earnest, not a hint of deception to be found.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your lips parting to take in a shaky breath. “I am not a woman that could ever be considered as your wife.” The words stung as they left your lips, trembling on their descent. He was alluding to everything you had secretly hoped for, yet the reality of it felt like a dream you weren’t sure you could grasp. “I am the daughter of a second son. I hold no titles, no grand connections. And certainly-”

Cregan silenced you with a searing kiss. One that was all flames and fervor, but slow enough to feel every movement of his mouth molding over yours. A soft gasp slipped past you, and he drank it in, claiming it for himself.

Your hands hung by your sides for a moment before your body caught up with your mind. But once his solid arms coiled themselves around your hips, something in you snapped in place finally. Hands went to his shoulders, gripping onto the thick fur of his cloak. He pulled you in, your back coming off the railing, pressing you to him so no space was between you.

Your lips struggled to match his pace, but it was not for lack of trying. All these years of tampered emotions and repressed desires made everything blur together. The only tangible thing to be felt was Cregan. He held you with the utmost gentleness, his hands falling along your curves but never drifting too far or squeezing too tightly.

The yearning threatened to spill over. Bubbling within the both of you and being tended higher and higher with every slide of your lips against each other. You knew better than anyone that he had a roughness about him. And you wanted to coax it out; you wanted him.

His teeth nipped your bottom lip as he walked you backwards. Pressing you into a wooden pillar, he brought you flush against him. Though, through all the furs and layers of clothing, there was nothing to be felt. You could sense his hunger in the subtle low noises in the back of his throat and the way his touch grew feverish.

When he left your mouth to trail his lips along your jaw and down your neck, you took the opportunity to reign in your self-control. When he hitched one of your legs around his hips, though, you could feel your composure slipping away. The line of propriety daring you to cross it as his fingers kneaded into the pliant flesh of your thigh.

“Cregan.” You sighed as he kissed a line across your jaw. There were things you wanted to say. Things you needed to speak about. But your desire-addled mind couldn’t bring forth a single syllable.

A loud roar of laughter sounded from the great hall, pulling you both back to the present. Cregan huffs into the crook of your neck, the hot puff of his breath sending goosebumps along your spine.

He dropped your leg but kept his hold on your waist. “I will not take you for the first time in my halls where anyone could see.” Everything inside him screamed at him to continue, to hike up your skirts and make you his once and for all. But he would not have the first time muddied with the risk of prying eyes. He would have you, but only somewhere safe, warm, and private.

“If this is what you want,” Cregan murmured. “I would have you in my chambers, though; if you wish to not continue, I will leave at once.”

A huff of laughter escaped you, eyes meeting his as your hands slid from his shoulders to his chest. “I have never wanted anything more than you for as long as I can recall.”

With your words solidifying what you both wanted, he pressed another quick kiss to your lips. Taking your hand in his, you made the all too familiar walk to his chambers.

You had some time to think while trending through the halls. Your mind was made up, resolved, and set in stone, but nerves prickled at your skin. Not for the act itself really, but the knowledge it would be with Cregan. After all this time and all the wondering, it was finally happening. You hadn’t quite wrapped your head around it yet.

This part of the keep was dead silent, far away enough from the great hall that the raucous of the gathering was a distant memory. The doors to his chambers were tall, heavy oak, crafted from large stocks of trees from the Wolfswood. As Cregan pushed them open, the warmth from inside his rooms wafted out to greet you.

Passing through the threshold, you felt the shift of everything. Nothing would be the same after tonight. “What happens afterwards?” You question, words leaving your lips in a whisper as his makes an expedition across your jaw. You didn’t want to doubt him, but all of this felt like a dream moving so quickly you couldn’t discern if anything was real.

“I will make you mine tonight.” He murmured, one arm going around your waist. “And you make me yours. Then we will be wed before the Weirwood tree.”

“You would make me your wife?” You asked softly, watching as his face became puzzled.

“Were my words not convincing enough?” A smile pulled on his lips, though he did not let it overtake his expression. He hummed a deep sound, lips falling here and there on your neck.

His sugary tone thrilled you to your core. His hinting words and the press of his mouth made a surge of arousal swirl within you. “Perhaps you should just show me,” you urged.

Not wasting another second, his arm around your waist hauled you to him. Your fingers gripping the fur of his cloak, pulling yourself as close as possible to him. Cregan’s mouth met yours frantically. His kiss was hungry, filled with a deep-seated yearning for you that he had tried to ignore.

The heat of the room multiplied. Gone were the frozen winds from outside, a blazing inferno taking its place. That fire churned between you as he kissed you with the roughness you knew lay within him. Once again, you failed to keep up, but you were more than content to let him kiss you into a stupor. His teeth scraping the skin of your bottom lip as he worked on the clasp of your cloak.

Letting the heavy garment fall to the floor at your feet, you shivered at the loss of its warmth. Wanting to level things out, your hands undid the fastening of his, a thrill shooting to you, noticing the eagerness in which he tossed it to the ground.

“Cregan.” You whispered, trembling at the feeling of his hands at your back untying the laces of your dress. The material sagging around your shoulders. Grey stars met your eyes, asking you if he could continue. Nodding your consent, he slid the dress down, never letting his eyes wander as the garment pooled at your feet.

Your shift was the only thing separating your nakedness from his eyes. But you couldn’t help but feel the severe imbalance between you. As he made home in your neck again, your hands went to work on the restraints of his tunic. One by one, the clasps opened for you until you pushed the clothing from his shoulders.

He huffed out a laugh into the skin of your neck that turned into a shudder when your fingers slid under his shirt. You let your hands feel along the corded muscle of his abdomen. Years of hard training formed his body into the mountain of a man that he was now.

You moaned outright when he bit the skin below your ear. His hands mapping out the dips of your curves. Gripping here and there with his digits, unable to help himself when feeling the heat of your skin from beneath the thin shift.

Growing desperate, you started raising his shirt up to say you wanted it off. He untangled himself from you just enough to aid you in lifting it over his head. It joined the rest of your clothing on the floor.

Seeing what was always hidden underneath those layers of thick garments had your head spinning. He was all solid muscle and pure strength. Powerful yes, but knowing that he would never use that power against you in a way to cause harm was exhilarating.

Not being able to help yourself, you let your fingers lightly glide over the impressive map of his stomach. He indulges you for a few moments before your nails scrape along his skin, causing a growl to rumble through his chest. Snatching up your hands, he pulled you flush against him again. He devours your mouth with uncontrolled need. Lust was all but dripping from him, but the underlying affection would not be drowned out. Cregan was a man of few words more often than not, so he preferred to show you all that you meant to him.

Hands taking hold of your hips, he maneuvered you to his bed. His eyes shining with tenderness as you let him lay you down on the mattress. The furs covering the sheets were soft beneath you, surrounding you in a comforting embrace. Cregan stood over you for a moment before going to his knees. Spreading your legs apart, he made home between them, his shoulders coming up under your knees.

He wanted to taste every inch of you, trail his lips and tongue along every curve and sensitive patch of skin he could find. Hands coming up to the straps of your shift, he paused to see you already shaking your head. He grinned to himself as he removed the last bit of fabric hiding you from him. Off your shoulders to reveal your breasts, down your sides to uncover your stomach, and finally letting it fall away to bare your center to him.

“Let me taste you.” He rumbled, his voice dropping deeper than you’d ever heard it. It’s timbre shooting a buzz of delight through you. The heat in your belly grows hotter, filling you with yearning that threatens to break you.

You nodded, feeling the warmth trickle down to your core. “Yes, please.” Those two words were all he needed—your breathy answer coaxing an unquenchable thirst within him. And he intends to drink his fill.

He kissed his way down your body. Guaranteeing you felt every kiss pressed to your skin and every scrap of his teeth. You were growing breathless already, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. Anticipation makes your heart thud wildly inside your chest.

His lips gave attention to every plane of your body. Scorching his path from your neck to your breasts, and then to your stomach to make his way to your thighs.

A low grumble crawled up his throat when your fingers tangled themselves in his hair. The heavy pressure of his mouth slid closer up the inside of your thigh, nipping at the skin there before going over it with his tongue. He could all but smell your arousal now this close to your center. The hunger to dive right in was almost overwhelming. The broad expanse of his shoulders pushed your legs further apart. Settling them over his back, his hand gripped the flesh of your thighs.

As the breath caught in your throat, your stomach swirled with delicious nerves. The warm slick gathered between your thighs was a glittering treasure Cregan took for himself. A surge of self-satisfaction rippled through him.

He takes in the wiggling of your body on his bed and hears the shaky inhales of your breath. Your thighs were twitching in his hold as he sank his teeth into the soft skin once more. You were like silk, smooth under his touch. The difference of his calloused fingers against your velvet skin was pure excellence in his eyes.

The first kiss he gave your slit knocked the breath from your lungs. When he licked a burning stripe up your core, your hearing grew fuzzy. His movements were careful and calculated to push you to the edge of complete insanity.

His arms around your hips went to bring you closer, a groan clawing up his throat as he pursued the pleasure of your cunt. He opened you to him with his tongue, desperate for whatever you granted him. A whine parted your lips as your hands gripped at his hair, your hips chasing the feel of his mouth without you even realizing it.

He was nothing if not formidable, even while he lapped at your wetness like a man starved. Resting between your legs, shoulders tensed with the vigor of his movements. He was solely focused on you, moaning into your center absently like he had never tasted something so sweet. He would spend the rest of his days with his face buried in your cunt if he could.

The heated cord within your belly continuously wound tighter and tighter with every swipe of his tongue. His mouth was ravenous, kissing and sucking with urgency, like if he didn’t make you come on his mouth, he would die.

“Cregan.” You sighed, writhing within his hold, causing his arms to grow tighter around you, locking you in place. The feeling was complete euphoria but also the sweetest torture at the same time. You yanked on the dark stands of his hair, urging him closer as if he wasn’t already practically inside you. “Please, don’t stop.” You begged, glancing down to see his starry eyes stuck on you.

He wasn’t about to let such a saccharine request go unanswered. But he also wasn’t going to let you squirm and wiggle about as you pleased. His belly was raging with hot fire, waiting for the chance to be released. His cock strained against his trousers, aching with the need to be inside of you. But he wanted to taste you spilling on his tongue first. He kept up with his heavy strokes against your center, drawing you closer and closer to your peak.

You were like honey on his tongue, surgery and sweet, all for him to devour. Listening to the melody of your whines and moans quickly became his favorite music. It brought him pleasure almost as much as it did you to know the ruinous state he’s gotten you in.

Your legs began to shake around his head, small tremors of ecstasy swimming through you. Cregan raked the path from your entrance to your clit with his tongue, circling the bundle of nerves a few times before taking it in his mouth. The soft gasps of his name that came from your lips as he sucked on your pearl were maddening. It had his fingers digging harder into the pliant flesh of your thighs, surely leaving bruises he would have to kiss once this was all over.

He was known to all as a stoic and serious man, but when he flicked his silver-hued eyes at you, they were nothing if not a flurry of affection. The sight of you on his bed breathless and lost to the pleasure he was giving you was heart-stopping. He had always thought you to be the prettiest girl he’d ever known, but now he likened you to a goddess. You had bewitched him body and soul.

His mouth still worked over your core. Switching between dipping his tongue into your entrance and wrapping his lips around your clit. Whenever he sucked the nerves in his mouth, he was rewarded with the prettiest sound to ever grace his ears. A high-pitched whine that slowly faded to a deep sigh.

You wanted to close your legs around his head, lock him there for the foreseeable future. But every time you moved your legs, he pried them apart, keeping you open to him so he could lavish his affection upon your cunt. His nose nudged your pearl whenever he dipped further down. You didn’t know how much more you could take. The peak was right there within your grasp; you just needed something to push you the rest of the way.

He was unrelenting, seemingly just as obsessed with bringing you apart with his mouth. A scream ripped past your lips as Cregan took your clit back in his mouth once more. His teeth bit down on the sensitive bundle of nerves, not hard enough to break skin but just enough to shoot a spike of pleasure pain down your spine. He drew his teeth away and soothed your pearl with his tongue.

“Cregan!” You sputtered, hips lurching forward to chase his mouth. You felt as though your whole body was on fire, that any moment now you would burst into flames. Your eyes screwed shut as stars exploded behind your eyelids. He dragged his teeth over your clit again, making your grip on his hair tighten even more. If you weren’t so out of it, you would have worried about pulling his hair out completely. “Do that again.” You pleaded with a trembling breath.

A huff of mild amusement escaped him before he was wrapping his mouth around your pearl and biting. He pulled at it with his teeth only to release it and sooth it over with his tongue. He drew whimper after whimper, moan after moan out of you. All the while, your legs shook around him with the weight of your impending release.

“Gods, I’m close!” A pleading moan tore past your lips, brain going hazy with the mounting pleasure. Your nails dug into his scalp as the cord grew taunt. The roughness didn’t discourage him, though. It merely made him all the more determined to push you over into oblivion.

“Please.” You spoke out into the air. A few more moments of his ministrations: bite, pull, sooth, suck. The cord snapped. A sharp gasp sounded from you as you shook like you were back in the cold winds outside. Everything spilled over; goosebumps erupted over your flesh. The heated tidal wave of your release rushing along your body. The sheer power of it having your back arching from the bed.

It felt as if your body was humming as your peak subsided slowly. Sinking back upon the furs, you untangled your fingers from Cregan’s hair. He was still gently lapping at your wetness as you reluctantly pushed him away. He lifted his head, eyes looking upon you with such reverence.

He kissed his way up your thighs, making sure to pay extra attention to the bruises he’d left. His lips were soft and caring on your sensitive skin. As he made his way further upwards, he pressed his face into your stomach. “I love you.” He whispered so faintly into your skin you weren’t sure if he even realized he said it.

“What?” You gasped, going up on your elbows to look at him. Face still buried in your middle, he murmured it again. This time raising his eyes to gauge your reaction. “You do?” You mumbled, becoming flustered all over again.

He crawled over you, covering your body beneath his burly physique as he claimed your lips. Your hand went to his cheek, tasting yourself on his tongue. “I do,” he husked. You took a moment to look at him, his eyes shining with adoration. “You still doubt my affections?”

You’re shaking your head instantly. “No,” you protest. “I simply didn’t expect you to say that.” You were grinning like a fool, mouth curved upwards in a beaming smile. He returned it, with one albeit smaller than yours, but it was still all him. You laughed into the kiss he gave you as he situated himself back between your legs.

“Allow me to show you then.” He spoke in a hushed voice. All you had to do was nod, and he was shucking off his breeches, kicking them from the bed.

You couldn’t see him, but you felt him big and hard against your thigh. Nerves swirled within you—not that he would ever hurt you intentionally, but that there would be no way around it hurting. You knew he would put your well-being above all else, though.

The barely-there smile still rested upon his face. “You’re still smiling.” You point out completely besotted with this mountain of a man.

“Hush woman.” He let out a humming noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. It was difficult to keep up his stone-like appearance in your presence. It always had been, but with your wide eyes looking up at him still hazy with pleasure, it was increasingly harder.

Bodies aligned and chests pressed against each other, you leaned up your lips searching for him, wanting another kiss. The kiss was as sweet as honey, soft as silk, much like you. From deep within his throat, a low rumble of approval echoed, and his eyebrows furrowed together as he returned the kiss with fervor.

You went to wrap your arms around his shoulders and found you could barely touch your hands together at the nape of his neck. Still though, it didn’t stop you from racking your nails across his skin. Hoping it would spurn him on. His cock rocked against your thigh, tip hitting your core for a split second.

“Patience, my girl.” He warned, rough palm soothing back your hair. “Slowly, I don’t want to hurt you.” He kissed a line across your collarbone, nose skimming along your skin. You felt him slide up along your thigh, the tip nudging at your entrance again. Just that little friction had shivers racing up and down your spine.

He canted his hips forward, pushing just slightly into your cunt. He was as big as he seemed evidently; the sting spread further as he slid in slowly. Inch by inch, with every ridge and vein feeling like it was being imprinted inside you. Once he was half way seated, you couldn’t keep quiet any longer. A faint grunt of discomfort slipped past you. Your hand gripping the nape of his neck tightly.

He paused, looking down at you. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Keep going. I’m alright.” You promised, loosening your hold on him. He pressed a soothing kiss to your hairline before he pressed forward again.

Having him inside you even halfway was something you would have to get used to. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant; the stretch and sting were fading already. Once he was fully inside, the feeling of him filling you was almost overwhelming in the best ways. Cregan gave you ample time to adjust, holding himself back from rutting into you. He never wished to harm you, even if your warm tightness was the most incredible thing he’d ever felt.

You tested your limits by rolling your hips to meet his. A hiss left the both of you as his cock slid even deeper, hitting some part of you that had you seeing stars. “Move.” You urged, back arching to press against him.

He drew out only to snap his hips forward, driving himself back in. Taking care to be as gentle as he could, he began a harsh but deep hitting pace. He was ardent in his lovemaking, cock thrusting into you, hitting places you didn’t even know existed. He was keeping good on his promise to show you just how much he loved you.

You wrapped a leg around his hips, his hand instantly going to hold it in place. Fingers lightly running across your skin. Your other leg spread wider for him, giving him as much room as you could to accommodate his size. A melody of whines and gasps flew from you with every thrust. Your nails running down the rippling strength of his back.

His face was hidden in your neck, lips assaulting your skin. Bruising kisses were placed wherever he could reach. Teeth joining to nip here and there, leaving marks that you would deal with later. He pounded into you with equal fervor and tenderness. Cregan was nothing if not devoted in all things, so each thrust was measured to ensure he seated himself fully inside you every time.

With the whole of Winterfell in the great hall or asleep, you worried not about concealing the volume of your moans. Needy whines and whimpers left you, one after the other. A particularly harsh snap of his hips had you stuttering out his name. You felt like you were being split in two, but it was the most pleasurable thing you’d ever experienced.

The friction of your bodies sliding together was addicting. Each glide of his cock along your innerwalls drove you closer and closer to another peak. Walls tightening around him, drawing a muffled curse, he spoke into your neck. Your hands went to his hair once again, bringing his mouth to yours. You kissed him as his cock kissed your womb. Your lips molded together as he dug his fingers into the flesh of your thigh.

You nipped at his bottom lips as he had done to you, causing a growl to rumble up his throat. There was urgency about him now, with his release building and building buzzing at the base of his spine.

He dropped the hold on your thigh, planting his weight on his forearms by your head. Using the leverage to rut inside you at a faster and deeper pace. Intensity danced between you as his cock drove into you, seated fully inside you, then pulling out only to plunge back in.

There was an almost divine feeling to being inside of you. As if Cregan was made for you and you were made for him. He had to wed you, had to say the vows beneath the Weirwood tree, and make you his wife. His Lady of Winterfell.

He groaned at the thought, snatching your lips between his own for another blazing kiss. Teeth knocking together and tongues sliding over each other—this was not a romantic kiss. It was full of base needs and wants. The drive to claim you as his and never give another man the chance to see you like this. You were his.

“Cregan please.” You pleaded into his mouth, your breath mingling together. He didn’t relent; your whispered appeal only spurred him on. He was aching and pulsing inside you. Cock thrusting so deeply, he vaguely pictured you struggling to walk in the morning. The thought sent a smug ripple down his spine. Your thighs were trembling, and with this being your first time taking him, you very likely will be sore.

“Do you have another in you?” He huffed out the question. His release was just within his reach, but he wanted to feel you gush around him first. Have the tightness of your walls gripping him like steel as he pushes into you for the last time before spilling his seed.

“Mhm.” You hummed around your harmony of whimpers and gasps. You rolled your hips to meet his as if to further prove what you wanted. The friction doing delicious things to the both of you.

You’d lost count of how many times he’d sunk into you. It was too many to keep up with. But the look that glimmered in his eyes told you it wouldn’t be much longer until another rush of euphoria greeted you.

His cock battered into you, his pace becoming faster than before. His hands moved from beside your head to grip your hips. Fingers sliding under to hold the small of your back, he lifted you slightly off the bed. The new angle had him hitting that spot within you that had you writhing up to meet him. Your senses became cloudy with nothing but the feeling of him inside breaking through.

“That’s it, my girl.” He husked out, feeling you shudder beneath him as your cunt clamped down on his length. He kept up his pace, racing after his own peak. Lowering you back down to rest on the furs again, he groaned heavy and hot into your neck as he spilled inside of you. The warmth exploded at the base of his spine and spread. Keeping his hips moving to help you both ride out your pleasure, he thrusted into you a few more times.

You whimpered as he withdrew from you, but he was quick to soothe you with a slow kiss to your lips. You fingers threaded through his brown tresses holding him to you. The display was all care and affection, a stark contrast to the intense moment between you just seconds ago.

When he rolled off you, he didn’t go far, his large form laying out beside you and drawing you to his side. His strong arm slung around you, locking you to his side.

An easy silence fell over you as you both regained your senses. The aftermath of your coupling filled to tender caresses of hands over heated skin. Soft presses of his lips upon your jaw, making your head relax into the pillow.

You weren’t aware of how much time passed before a halting thought crossed your mind. “Should I not leave?” You asked. Cregan furrowed his brows at you as if you were speaking in riddles. “There will surely be whispers if I am seen in your chambers in the morning,” you clarified.

“Nonsense,” he dismissed. His hold on you becomes tighter and a touch more protective. “You will be my wife soon enough. Whatever any of my people have to say about it, they will do well to make sure I do not hear of it.”

Completely smitten with him as well as his response, you choose not to argue. Much preferring to settle back into his warmth and spend the night caged within his arms.

I think this is the longest fic I have ever wrote, but I'm in love with it.

﹙taglist﹚@madame-fear

#house of the dragon #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x y/n #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #hotd fanfiction #hotd #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan stark fanfic

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issysh3ll · 8 months ago

Text

Blush ♡ Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Matt is embarrassed when you catch him watching edits of you but he can’t deny how much he likes it Warnings: Sub! Matt, smut, masturbation, humiliation kink, teasing, tears, blushing Wordcount: 2.3k

a/n: I was going to edit this and fix it up a bit before posting but I keep forgetting and don’t want to make you guys wait any longer so here it is but it might be a bit rough

Silence fills the house, the only sounds to be heard are Nick’s gentle snoring and your soft footsteps as you carefully creep out of his room. Falling asleep has always taken you a long time, often finding yourself tossing and turning while you wait for sleep to creep up on you. Tonight has been much the same, and with Nick’s snoring now echoing through the room a trip to the kitchen was seeming more appealing than the boredom of silently waiting for slumber to take you.

Floorboards creak under your feet as you make your way down the stairs. The room is dark, the only light coming from a window above the sink where the moonlight spills into the area. Or so you thought, your eyes are drawn to another light source sitting at the kitchen bench. Matt’s phone balances in his hand, his eyes glued to the screen. The light dancing across his face as he scrolls, music plays quietly with each video he lands on.

“Oh hey, i didn't know you were still up” Matt says, quickly switching his phone off and dropping it onto the bench clumsily. The dim lighting of the room makes it hard to tell but you could swear you could see a slight pink tinge running across his cheeks as he fidgets awkwardly with his phone case. Ignoring the behavior, you head straight to the fridge, leaning forwards to grab a water and throwing your reply over your shoulder, “yeah, I just came down for a drink. Nick’s snoring.” You turn around as the fridge door closes, unscrewing the water bottle now in your hand and meet Matt’s eyes. “What were you watching?” you ask before bringing the water to your lips and gulping down a few mouthfuls.

Matt’s eyes widen at your question and the pink hue on his cheeks becomes more obvious. “Oh uh, nothin’ really. Just, uh, some videos. Ya’ know, just passing the time.” He clears his throat as he speaks, trying to shrug and act nonchalant but his nervous energy is very clear. Intrigued, you place the water bottle down on the bench and raise an eyebrow at Matt as you question him again, “really? It sounded like you were watching TikTok edits…”

Matt's eyes widen, his cheeks now flushing a deep shade of crimson. Embarrassment bubbles inside his chest – you are the last person he would want to be caught by. His hands fidgets with the sleeves of his hoodie, tugging and twisting on the gray fabric as he clears his throat again. “H-how did you.. I mean, yeah, maybe. It’s just so catchy and easy to get lost in, ya’ know?”

“Mhmm, so who’s edits were you watching Matt? You’re blushing like crazy.” You tease, gesturing at his face. He quickly turns away avoiding your keen stare, silently willing his cheeks to stop burning. Embarrassment and something else flickering in his eyes. You watch, intrigued as he chews on his lip nervously, eyes glued to the floor as he stutters and stammers out the beginnings of an answer before trailing off and muttering, “it doesn’t matter”.

You step around the kitchen bench, now standing on the same side as him. Through the dim lighting you can see his throat bob as he swallows nervously at your proximity. A small chuckle crosses your lips with a small smirk growing. “Go on, tell me. It’s ok matty, don’t be embarrassed. Who was it?” You taunt, stepping closer again. Matt’s eyes remain firmly glued to the ground as he shakes his head.

You know that Matt has always been shy, especially around you, but despite his efforts to hide it you have always noticed how his behavior changes when you’re around. The way he always blushes when you make eye contact, or the way he always does anything you ask him to. The answer to your question is very clear in your mind but you’re determined to make Matt admit it.

You take another step forward, now standing between matts legs as they hang off the kitchen stool. You reach a hand out to Matt's chin, tilting his head up slightly, forcing him to meet your gaze as you repeat your question, “Who was it, Matt?”

Matt’s breath hitches at your touch on his chin, his heart beating out of his chest and his cheeks burning as he stares up into your eyes. The intensity of your gaze makes his stomach flip as he forces his voice out, “It… it was you” he admits, his voice cracking, “I-I can’t help it, ya’ know?” He stammers, the deep crimson color on his cheeks spreading down his neck as he squirms under your gaze.

Too nervous to look at you, his eyes flick anxiously around the room. You chuckle slightly and tighten your grip on his jaw as you lean your face down. “Aw look at you, so desperate to see more of me you had to watch little videos on your phone, huh? But now that I'm actually here you can’t even look at me? Come on Matt, look at me”.

Matt gulps, your fingers cold against the hot, flushed skin of his face. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from your lips now, watching intently as they move with your teasing words. Embarrassment burns through his body, his cheeks practically on fire and yet he still feels a pang of desire with each touch, each movement. His desire spreads through his body causing a warmth to rise in his crotch. Matt shuffles his hips, trying to hide the way his body is reacting.

Your eye’s flick down to follow Matt’s fidgeting and the cause becomes clear as you see the tent forming in his sweatpants, his hands rushing down in an attempt to cover it. A small chuckle rises in your throat, entertained by the way Matt’s bids to hide his growing bulge are only making it more prominent. You return your gaze to Matt’s face to find that his eyes are screwed shut in shame and his lip quivers slightly as he utters out a shaky “I- I’m sorry.”

You smile softly at him and tilt his chin up slightly, Matt peaking one eye open slightly to see your reaction. Your thumb strokes gently against his jaw as you speak, “hmm you like that don’t you? You like that I caught you? C’mon open your eyes Matty, look at me when you answer.”

Matt’s breath hitches as he hesitantly peels his eyes open again. He watches as your teasing gaze flicks down again to the growing bulge in his pants, a small twitch jumping through his cock as your eyes land on it once more. He bites his lip before answering shakily, “I… Yes.”

You chuckle lowly and run your thumb across his jaw to his lip, pulling it out from between his teeth, “you’re just so desperate for my attention?” You ask teasingly, your thumb grazing lightly over Matt’s bottom lip again, “You can’t help it can you? I can see your cock twitching already baby.”

Matt’s cheeks burn hotter at your words and he bites his lip again, a pitiful whimper leaving his lips as the fabric of his sweatpants rubs against his growing erection. His embarrassment of being caught, being teased like this is consuming him but he can’t deny the way it feeds his desire for you even more, “Please…”

“Hmm? Please what baby?” you coo back at him, leaning your face closer just inches away from his.

Matt squirms under your touch, his cock pulsing against his sweatpants. “Please, just touch me,” his voice barely above a whisper. He knows it’s humiliating, but the urge to have your hands on him is overwhelming, “I need it,” He admits.

You shake your head and tsk your teeth, “aw look at you, poor baby so desperate to be touched you’re begging.” Your grip on his jaw releases and you move your hand to cup his cheek, gently stroking your thumb along the flushed skin. You place your other hand lightly on his leg, tracing your fingertips softly up and down his thigh.

Matt’s breath hitches in his throat and he leans his face into your palm, a needy whimper escaping his lips. The gentle contact on his thigh making his cock twitch in anticipation. He looks up at you through his lashes with pleading eyes, his pupils dilated with desire, “Please… I need more.”

“More? Hm, you think you deserve more, Matty? Are you gonna be a good boy?”

Matt nods eagerly, a bead of sweat forming on his brow as he anticipates your next move. “Yes, I promise. I’ll be a good boy. I just need you, please,” he begs, his hips thrusting upwards in a silent plea for more contact.

You chuckle slightly at his desperation and point to his hips as you speak playfully, “aw look at you, so desperate you’re humping nothing. How pathetic.” Your fingers run up his thigh again, this time moving further up until your hand is hovering just above where he wants it.

A soft whine falls from Matt’s lips, his hands clenching into fists around the sleeves of his hoodie to steady himself. He arches into your touch, desperate for more friction. His voice is thick with need as he pleads “please, don’t stop”.

Your palm on his cheek trails down to grip his jaw tightly again, pulling his face towards yours slightly as you speak close to his mouth. “Hmm? No, if you’re so desperate to be touched you can do it yourself. Let me see how pathetic you are for me baby, you’re gonna hump my hand, ok?” Your hand pressing down slightly against the bulge in his pants.

Matt’s eyes widen at your command, a mix of embarrassment and arousal filling his mind. He knows it's degrading, but the thought of humping your hand turns him on even more and he nods with a small whimper. He starts to grind up against your palm, the friction making his cock throb in his pants. The pleasure rippling through him from just your palm causes his embarrassment to rise with each thrust. The red color of his cheeks growing as he works to get himself off on your hand. His eyes avoid yours, instead staring shyly at the ground, not wanting you to see how much pleasure he is deriving from so little of you. The humiliation of finding this much enjoyment in something so demeaning is pricking at Matt’s mind.

“Keep your eyes on mine Matt,” you warn, tightening your grip on his jaw, “I want to see how much you like it.”

Matt hesitates but the tight grip on his jaw forces him to look at you. His brows are knitting together with pleasure, his lips parted as small moans and whimpers pour out with each movement. “That’s it baby, let me hear you too. I wanna hear those pathetic little pretty whimpers.” you coo, pressing your hand down slightly, increasing the pressure against his cock as his movements speed up.

Your words fuel his shame, and yet it also intensifies the pleasure coursing through his body. A choked whimper escapes his lips followed by a series of soft, desperate groans as he grinds harder against your palm. He feels utterly humiliated, but he can’t stop himself from seeking your touch, your approval.

“Yeah good boy, you like being humiliated don’t you? Feels so good being my pathetic little play thing, huh?”

His moans grow louder, hips jerking erratically as he gets closer to the edge. Your degrading words only add to his arousal. “Yes, yes…” he pants, his voice dripping with submission, “i’m your pathetic baby.”

“Hmm good boy, so good for me aren’t you.” You can feel his cock twitching beneath the fabric of his sweatpants more and more. Matt now struggling to keep his eyes open as they roll back in pleasure. “Look at you,” you chuckle, “you can’t even keep your eyes on me. You gonna cum in your pants, Matty?”

Matt whimpers pathetically at your laughter, a mixture of shame and pleasure twisting at his insides. Tears well up in his eyes as he weakly tries to regain your gaze. His hips bucking uncontrollably, and with a muffled cry, he spills his release. Ropes of thick white liquid squirting into his pants with each twitch of his cock. His body shudders as his grinding slows.

You shake your head and tsk your teeth at him, pulling your grip on his jaw to force his eyes towards the wet patch on his pants. “Look at that, you just couldn’t help it could you?” you tease, pulling his face back up again to face you. “You just had to make a mess of your pants, hm?”

His gaze returns to your face, the tears that had been welling up in his eyes from the overwhelming pleasure now spilling slowly out of the corners of his eyes and down his cheeks. You release your grip on his jaw, moving your hand to wipe away his tears gently and cup his cheek. “Aw, are you crying? So embarrassed about how desperate you are? Isn’t this what you wanted, Matty?”

Matt sniffles, nodding his head slowly as you wipe away the last of his tears. He still can’t meet your eyes but clings to the touch on his cheek. “Yes… I wanted it so bad. Just – couldn’t help myself, felt too good.” He admits, his voice quiet and shameful.

You stroke your thumb comfortingly across his cheek. Matt leans into your touch, grateful for the affection. Your voice contrasts with the soft loving actions as you hum sarcastically “hmm poor baby, no self control, i bet you want more don’t you?”

All my works → here

a/n: what do we think of this one? this is obviously alot longer than my other ones

Taglist: @bernardsbendystraws @gxldenlush @scligit @sturniolo-fann @submattenthusiast @sturni0l0 @colorthecosmos444 @rainuhh @bambi-slxt @evie-sturns

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seokminfilm · 2 months ago

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kiwi | vernon chwe

🪄 pairing, vernon chwe x reader

🪄 warnings, short, lowercase intended, kind of stupid/incoherent, fluff, kissing, vernon calls reader 'babe', reader calls vernon 'dude' as a pet name, reader teases vernon, lyr's just trying to cope w the debut of buzzcut vernon okay don't judge.

🪄 summary, in which your boyfriend returns home with a buzzcut that looks eerily similar to a kiwi.

🪄 author, i'm still reeling over buzzcut vernon okay...i'm going through the five stages of grief & hoping that it grows on me 🙏 to help w my coping i'm gonna write this short little fic that i hope expresses my feelings about this new haircut in a somewhat coherent way. anyways, enjoy!

🪄 now playing, back on 74, jungle

🪄 word count, 704 | for @kstrucknet

"dude, you actually did it."

those are the first words to leave your mouth as you see your scarily quiet boyfriend enter your shared apartment. his hat is removed quickly, revealing his new hairstyle (or better yet, the lack of hair to style), and you swear you hear a gasp leave your mouth before you say the sentence.

vernon turns around blankly, taking his wireless earbuds from his ear as he stuffs them in his jeans pocket. his pretty brown eyes are widened, a telltale sign he didn't hear what you said before, as he replies with a very dry "huh?"

"your hair. it's....wait─can i even say 'your hair'?" you ask aloud, and vernon's lithe lips curve into a small smile, a chuckle leaving his lips as he shrugs.

"it's up to you, i guess." vernon's voice is deep as usual, but softer with you as he walks up to you. you touch his face first, fingertips sliding across his cheek as you stare at him. he looks the exact same, you know, but he's different now. the buzzcut really did change his face shape; his jawline was more pronounced now, and you could even see the curve of his ears.

"it's gonna be weird, seeing you without bangs to hide behind when you're listening to music," you whisper, and vernon laughs, shaking his head.

"it'll grow back fast, don't worry. i just wanted something new for a change, babe." vernon placates you, and you nod. "i know you did, vern. you don't have to explain to me why you did it." you concede, smiling softly as you wrap your arms around vernon's waist.

he's quiet as he lets you do your thing, and you sigh, breathing in the scent of his deodorant as you pull away. staring up at him again, you clear your throat, blushing.

"can i....touch it?" you ask, and vernon raises his thick eyebrows, confused as to what you mean as he pauses for a second. "touch what?" he asks bluntly, and you cough, gesturing to his hairstyle (you should really stop saying hairstyle).

"can i touch your head?" you ask again, and vernon laughs full out this time, nodding nevertheless as he tilts his head down a little, enabling you to reach it.

running your hands over his buzzed head, the small pricks of his lack of hair tickle your palm. it's weird, seeing it all cut down and shaved to this small prickly-like size. you move your fingers down to his temples, tracing his sideburns before your fingers tug at the tips of his ears.

"you remind me of a kiwi," you say as you pull your hand away, and vernon stands back up to his full height, tilting his head. "a kiwi?"

"yeah. you have kiwi fuzz for hair now." you smile, and vernon chuckles again, voice low as he nods. "kiwi fuzz. i like it."

"i mean, i do too. i'll love you no matter what, even if you are bald." you say teasingly, and vernon raises a sculpted eyebrow, lips parting as you can see the ghost of a smile dancing on his lips.

"i'm not bald, though." vernon says, and you shake your head, gesturing to his head as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"you don't have hair." you say, and vernon looks to the side, obviously confused as his eyebrows furrow. "but i do have hair. it's just...really short." he combats, and you sigh, shaking your head.

"vernon, you're literally bald. you can feel the breeze on your scalp. that's what baldness feels like." you shrug, fingertips tracing vernon's jaw as you smile. "it's okay though. like i said, i still love you, dude."

vernon doesn't combat your reservation, falling silent as he lets you do what you do. the smile on his face is visible now, and you can taste the original chapstick on his lips when you kiss him again. he hums into you (something he rarely ever does) when you nip at his lips, voice low and rumbling as he grins when you pull away.

"i'm just teasing, vernon." you say after a few seconds of comfortable quietness, and vernon shrugs, smiling even wider. "i know."

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haologram · 3 months ago

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stairway to the stars ☆ l.jh [m]

⤷ part of 'a very seventeen christmas' secret santa event! synopsis: your husband has always been supportive of your dreams - from the sidelines. he stays to himself, he keeps his mouth shut. it's you that can't stop running yours when your co-star is all over him. genre: established relationship au, tiny bit of angst, fluff, smut? pairing: husband!lee jihoon x actress!fem!reader word count: 1.5k...it pained me to stop it here. rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: mentions of jealousy, ideation of infidelity, general relationship dynamics. clit play, kissing, in the backseat...you know the vibes. what to listen to: stargirl interlude - the weeknd, lana del rey ; never lose me - flo milli ; the boy is mine - monica, brandy. author's note: hi baby @monamipencil ♡ i hope you enjoy my little segment for you! i did 1000% pull this out of thin air but please let me know if there is ever anything else i can write for you. much love from your secret santa. ♡

"Don't forget about me, sweetheart." It was one of the few phrases your husband burned in your brain when your career really started taking off. He'd only been your boyfriend then, trying his hardest to prove himself worthy of your affections and time. You promised you wouldn't, over shared bottles of heady Cabernet and stolen kisses. The following years proved most difficult – from fighting over not spending enough time together because of your jobs, to vacationing for months on end without repercussions – you were rising to the top way too fast for him to wrap his head around it.

But never once did his love, loyalty, or respect for you falter. He watched quietly from the sidelines, silently supportive of all your endeavors. He'd grimace inwardly a bit if your lipstick stained anyone else's lips on the big screen, he'd clear his throat one too many times if you shed any tears during a scene. He held your waist at events, a silent reminder that your ascend up the stairway to the stars was in good company.

When you finally got a bit of time for yourself, he made it his priority to become someone more permanent in your life. With eyes that never strayed and a heart that only beat for you, he proposed softly as the two of you took a midnight stroll for the first time in a long time. He apologized for not making it something grand, promising your wedding would be to die for and he'd pull every string possible to give you the honeymoon of your dreams – only for you to stop his rambling with a teary kiss to his lips. Telling your friends the news of the proposal was an exciting feat, until it fell on the ears of multiple of your co-stars. You hadn't ever even spoken of a boyfriend (you had, they just didn't remember), and a few of the men you'd worked with questioned the validity of your engagement, of your relationship – and it eventually got back to Jihoon. Whispers of the startup CEO dating an actress filled his office, side-eyed glances made him uneasy in his own skin and he hated it – he hated that people wouldn't mind their own business.

Needless to say, it pissed him off. He'd never been openly possessive, but a part of him knew that neither of you had an issue understanding where you stood in each other's lives. From dating, to girlfriend, to wife – you'd always been open about who Jihoon was to you and what his presence meant. You never shied away from answering his questions if any, and you proudly presented him as your significant other if he managed to attend any of your events. This alone was enough for the two of you to realize that people in your industry didn't take relationships too seriously, and enough for you to hard-launch your relationship by posting your wedding photos on social media.

The industry did not like that, but you didn't care. You and your agent continued to book role after role, your husband continuing to grow his business and make a name for himself in the world of music production…a stepping stone for him, and the first moment of blood-boiling jealousy you'd ever experienced at the side of Lee Jihoon.

Her hand was on his shoulder as they spoke music, and he swiftly moved out of her grasp, sure. The dance floor was full of couples, a dance floor you'd intended to whisk him onto after reapplying your lipstick in the washroom. Someone Like You by Van Morrison played as you stood a few feet away, your face contorted in a fit of envy as you saw your husband push her hand away, the words I'm married, please don't touch me falling from his lips. The woman grimaced – the same woman you'd starred alongside for three seasons of the very same show you were all celebrating a renewal for tonight – and she shrugged her shoulders, before the dreaded words fell from her own red lips.

"So? She doesn't have to know."

Jihoon looked taken aback, and it was almost like he was a moth drawn to a flame – his eyes landed on you, and the way your jaw was tight with anger as you made your way over.

"Soyoung, nice to see you. Did you lose something here, dearest?" You speak softly, staring at your co-star with eyes of fire. She gave you a sleazy smirk, shaking her head. "Not at all, Y/N. Enjoying the party?" "It's lovely, isn't it? Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm feeling a bit under the weather." You gave her a tight smile, your hand wrapping around Jihoon's wrist watch as you pulled him away. He'd never seen you in such a state, eager to get him out of the venue and into the backseat of the black car waiting for you. Your arms were crossed as you sat facing away from him, before he made eye contact with the driver. He raised his brow, and the driver nodded, swiftly raising the partition as Jihoon turned to face you.

"Something bothering you, sweetheart?" He saw the way your shoulders tensed under the wine red straps of your dress, your legs crossed at the knee baring the skin of your thigh under the slit of the skirt. You gave him a glance through the corner of your eye, your lip jutted out in a pout as he cooed at you, making you huff in embarrassment.

"I don't like her." You mutter, "I don't like what she said and I don't like how she was all over you. She's literally my co-star. She knows we're married." "As much as I like your little pout and think you're adorable, I don't like that you're upset. You know I'd never wrong you, especially not like that." He tilts his head at you, making you pinch the bridge of your nose. "I know, Ji. I know." He's not satisfied with your answer, his hand reaching over to graze your knee, biting back his smile at the way your shoulders lose their tension at his touch. Your jaw remains tight, shaking your head in disbelief. "We've been co-stars for three years. You'd think she'd have some fucking respect for me." You were always so calm and collected, never too outwardly expressive of your disdain for people or their actions. He feels almost guilty for the growing tightness in his pants as you click your tongue, facing him as his fingers trace circles into your skin. "You're literally my husband. That's how I introduced you. My husband, Jihoon. Not Lee Jihoon, not the CEO of Ruby Productions, my husband. She's so shameless, I almost pity her." You tongue your cheek with a humorless laugh, and he can't help but feel his cheeks heat at the visual. He's silent as you run a hand through your hair, your earrings swinging as you shake your head again, giving him a pitiful smile.

"I'm sorry, I know this is out of character." You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. He nods, shifting slightly as your hand splays across his thigh. You press a kiss to his cheek, stamping your lipstick on his pale skin when you notice the flush on his cheeks. He clears his throat as you stare at him, a look of disbelief glossing over your eyes as you gape at him.

"You liked it?" "In my defense, you're hot when you're mad." He scoffs embarrassedly, making you huff out a laugh. "Jihoon." "I'm sorry." He presses a kiss to your temple as you roll your eyes. "Are you?" "No." He smiles against your skin, and you feel your cheeks heat as he trails his lips down your neck. "I love you, sweetheart. Just you." "I know, Ji." You sigh, feeling a bit of heat pool in your lower belly as he nips at your shoulder with a hum. "I don't think you do. Maybe I should remind you." Your cheeks grow hot as he gently pulls your thigh over his, his teeth nipping at the shell of your ear as he snaps the waistband of your underwear against your hip. "Now you know how I feel. Everyone always has their hands all over you, like you're not spoken for." You shudder as he slips his fingers under the cotton fabric, smirking against your skin as your hand wraps around his watch. You bite down on your lip as his finger traces your clit, your nails barely digging into his wrist. "Ji, not here." Your body betrays your words, your grip on his wrist loosening as he pulls your thigh higher on his lap. "Why? Aren't you mine?" His voice is sultry as you shiver against him, slim fingers collecting your arousal while he nips at your ear.

"Yes, but-" "Oh, there's a but?" He slides a finger inside you easily, your words getting caught in your throat as you whimper. "Hoonie…" "Tell you what, pretty." He slips his hand out as the car slows to stop, the front of the hotel you're staying at coming into view. "We're going to go upstairs and you're gonna take this dress off for me, and I'll show you who the brightest star in my sky is. Go."

You nearly stumble as your husband walks out behind you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he bids the driver goodbye. You feel his teeth on your shoulder, his voice low as he speaks into your ear.

“And keep those heels on for me."

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venusincleo · 2 months ago

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Time. iii.

Part One [i]. ♡ Part Two [ii].

Warnings: MDNI • Explicit • Aaron Pierre x Black!Reader, smoking, a lil angst, a lil fluff, teasing, p in v, creampie, slight overstimulation, pet names, DDLG kink, BDSM themes, Soft!Aaron, omniscient POV and more...

BKG/Summary: As you and Aaron maintain your budding love in your long distance relationship, your respective careers continue to grow exponentially. Your writing has picked up wonderfully, and your newest work is to hit local shelves with pre-orders out for delivery. When there is a snag in production and they print the wrong cover, fans are rightfully mad but have no one to blame but you. To help cope with the stress, you call Aaron, hoping that he can talk you down but as he's busy himself, all you get is solutions. To make up for his lack of sensitivity to a moment that may very well be formative to your career, he gets a one way flight to see you.

Word Count: 3.8k❣

A/N: ✴︎Happy New Year!✴︎ Tell me how you liked this one 💗🫶🏾

• • •

right now i need your loving, one way flight ain't nothin'... - NYL by Phabo

Light smoke billowed from your lips, taking the color of the bronze sky as you blew it out of your large window. Your eyes low and your mind clear, you gazed into the horizon, thanking God for the beauty He had painted ions ago. You gazed along the limited foliage and bustling street underneath your apartment building, and couldn’t help giggling at the fact that everything seemed to be orange under the filter of the sunset.

As your mind was numbed from any of the day's events, you thought back to the person you would have loved to share this moment with. Earlier in your hectic day, you had called him for some relief from life’s unexpected symptoms but you did not get the reaction you desired. Wise but stern motivations took the place of the gentle words you thought you were sure to receive.

Then, your yearning tone turned defensive, and that was not pretty. Before you knew it, you and Aaron had had a small spat about his tone, and then you were hanging up in his face.

It wasn’t like you needed him to make things better, but you at least hoped that he would love on you enough for you to see the solution for yourself. Instead, he made it seem like he was too busy to handle your emotions in the moment, like he was unable to make the time. Though, two short minutes of affirmations would have sufficed, no doubt.

Now, you were okay with not speaking to him for the rest of the day. You wanted to feel your high for as long as humanly possible.

With a levitating sway of your hips, you allowed your bare feet to usher you back into your living room, your patterned maxi dress flowing behind you as you turned up your speaker. As Jhene Aiko’s voice heightened in volume, you rolled your body to her sensual lyrics, joint in the air.

'Let’s go half on a son, how far do you wanna go? Ohhhhh…'

Just as you brought your herb back to your lips to take in a long puff, your phone rang, interrupting the music. Breathing out the smoke quickly, you rush to your phone, ready to decline the call when you see the contact photo. Aaron.

A deep sigh rushes past your lips as you press the green button, taking a drag from your j as you see the call connecting. Distracted by nothing in particular, Aaron’s eyes take a moment to focus on your face through the screen, but once he does, he scoffs in near disbelief.

“I see you found an outlet.” His deep voice is littered with droplets of venom, and you roll your eyes as you breathe out the smoke you were holding.

“I would much rather have something else for that but, here I am.” You are involuntarily calm, your logical mind wanting to give him back what he was dishing. But physically, the effects of the weed wouldn’t even allow you to be phased. You were just…there.

“Anyways, did you call for something or what? Cause I’m busy…” You bend down to your coffee table to ash your joint in your pretty glass tray, and then your red eyes meet Aaron’s on your FaceTime. He hears a hint of reciprocation of the energy he gave you this morning, and his eyes soften, his natural pout a bit more defined.

“Uh, yeah…I’m outside.” Without much thought to his words, you smack your teeth, and look at your j, examining the neatly rolled herb inside.

“Okay, nigga.” All he can do is chuckle at your reaction, and you look at your screen to see what’s so funny.

“No, I’m really,” He begins, and then you hear three knocks echoing on either side of your phone. “Outside.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you set your joint down in your tray and go to your front door. A quick glance through your peephole is all it takes to see Aaron’s large frame waiting right on the other side, and you instantly hang up the phone. After unlocking it, you swing your door open and meet Aaron’s eyes.

Every feeling that you had been avoiding bubbled up quickly, like seeing him was the last straw. Shit. You cursed yourself internally. You didn’t want to fold under his intense blue eyes, but as his softened demeanor waits to be welcomed in, tears sting at the sides of your eyes. Blinking to try and keep the waterworks at bay, you step aside and allow a space for him to make his entrance, looking off into the distance of your apartment.

Once he steps in, and waits for you to close your door, he watches you turn on your heel to face him. Soft steps in your direction lead him to the space right in front of you, and he leans his head down to be face to face with you.

“Come here.” His English accent sticks to his deep voice, and he places his hands on your hips to pull you in closer. You almost allow him to hug you, but as he begins to nestle his face in your neck, you reach your hands up to push him away from you.

“No. You hurt me, Aaron.” He keeps his stature, silently flexing his strength over you, but he moves back a little to try and respect your wishes. The tears continue to flood your eyes, but at this point, you don’t care anymore. You want him to see how he made you feel, you need him to.

Seeing you so upset with him makes Aaron’s chest tighten with worry. It wasn’t his intention to make you cry, it never was. But he couldn’t help but notice the tears threatening to spill over your lower lid at any moment.

“Y/N, please. I’m sorry.” His tone is soft, maybe the softest it’s been all day, and you find yourself looking up into his slightly upturned eyes. You want to kiss him so bad, just say ‘fuck it’ to all the points you had in mind to make to him. But you had to at least bring up the most pressing one, your mind wouldn’t allow you to forget it.

“Aaron, I-…” You begin, shaking your head as you try to form your words in a neutral way. A tear falls onto your cheek as you find just what you want to convey.

“You won’t always be able to pop up on me like this; phone calls are our primary form of communication right now. If you’re too busy for calls then maybe we should rethink this relationship.”

“I’m not too busy for your phone calls, Y/N. Today was just a bit stressful for me too but, I had no right to take that out on you.” His hands rub at your sides as he gazes into your eyes. “Truly, I apologize.”

A moment of quiet falls between the two of you, and you take in a deep breath, releasing it into the room.

“Thank you.” Your voice was near a whisper, as you took in his second apology. Comfortable now, that the two of you were on the same page, even if only for tonight, you reach your arms around Aaron’s neck, peering up into his pretty eyes yet again. Instantly, he pulls your body into his and brings his hand to your face to wipe your fallen tear.

A lush peck laces the lack of space between each of your lips, and then finally Aaron gets the hug that he yearned for. His strong arms squeeze around your body as he rests his head in the space of your shoulder and his large hands find their ways to the skin of your back. You feel his supple lips on your neck and you breathe in slowly, smelling the distinct scent of his luxury cologne mixed in with his pheromones. Your mouth nearly waters at the perfection of the warm, clean notes of his fragrance.

"I don't like seeing you cry, pretty girl." He rasps against your neck, sending tingles down your spine.

"I know." You run a dainty hand down his neck, along his shoulder and bicep, squeezing at the toned muscle. Mmm.

"Not unless Papa is making you feel that good." He trails his hands down your body, resting at your plump ass to give it a squeeze. Hearing your whispered gasp at his gesture, he brings his face back parallel to yours so he can see your expression.

Doe eyes stare up into his lowered ones, the energy in the room long past shifted, and waiting to be acted upon.

"You want me to make you feel good?" Your eyes flicker from his lowered gaze to his full pink lips, your vision shadowed by your long eyelashes.

“Yes.” As your vision is fixed on his pretty mouth, Aaron leans forward to seemingly give you what you want. But just when your lips get close, he pulls away, his intense glare demanding your attention.

Looking up into his eyes yet again, you press your body further into his, craving so desperately to feel his kiss. Instead of a kiss though, Aaron brings a strong hand to your shoulders, pushing your lovely black kinks out of his way. Sure enough, his tender hand wraps around your neck tautly, and he pulls your face right up to his.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” His chest rises and falls quicker as he watches your lips purse to reply to him.

“I want you to make love to me.” He closes in on your lips but when your eyes don’t leave his, he waits just a moment for your other requests.

“Start slow.” Your tone is breathy as you express just what you wanted and needed from your night. The ghost of a grin plays at Aaron’s lips, and then they finally connect with yours.

He parts his mouth almost instantly, the fulfilled desire of your tongue on his causing a soft moan to escape his lips. You aimlessly fight for balance, your tongues playing a tug of war you were okay with losing as long as it continued. Aaron’s hold on your neck stays firm for a few moments later, and then he slowly lets you go, bringing his strong hands to your ass through your flowing dress.

Your sure hands move to his shoulders to push his suit jacket off of his frame, and his arms leave your body to pull the tweed fabric off of him rather quickly. He throws his jacket to the side with no real regard for where it lands, and soon, his arms are back around you.

Aaron lifts you like you’re nothing, allowing your body to straddle his waist as he holds you up by your thighs. You don’t disconnect for any longer than a second, as you continue to press your needy kiss into his thick lips, feeling his hungry reciprocation. As you focus on the warm breath filling the space between your lips, and the secure hold you’re in, your body can’t help but react, your natural lubrication easing from between your thighs.

“Mm.” You grind your body against his, the friction of the clothes between you both being just enough to stimulate your throbbing clit. You whine against his lips, and he pulls away from the kiss to see your flustered face, as you bite your lip.

Seeing just how dire it is for you to feel something right now, Aaron carries you to your couch, where he lays you down softly. He lays over you as you keep your eyes locked on him, bringing a hand to your cheek as he presses his lips back into yours. As he delivers one of his slow, torturously enticing kisses, he rubs his hardened shaft against your heated core, grinding his hips against yours through your clothes.

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel yourself get wetter because of his efforts, and energy rushes through your body.

“Fuck, baby.” You breathe out, nearly being overcome with the feeling of him grinding into you. A deep breath leaves Aaron’s vocal cords in a gruff, stuttered tone, and he rubs himself against you just once more, pulling back just slightly to reach up your dress for your panties. But, when he feels nothing but your plush skin, he blinks slowly as he tries to contain his excitement.

As he takes his time pushing your dress up your body to reveal your moisturized melanin, his eyes trail past your hips, your navel, your torso and your chest to meet your pretty brown eyes yet again. Your eyelashes flutter against your cheek as you watch him intently, having a hint of an idea of what he’s about to do.

Gently, he tugs at the airy fabric of the dress you are barely wearing now, and his eyes turn stormy with desire.

“Take this off.”

You obey quickly, pulling the dress over your head and tossing it to the floor beside the couch. When your eyes meet his again, he lets a moment pass before he’s tugging his chocolate brown shirt off of his own body, revealing his soft, honey-toned skin and the rippled muscles under it. Your eyes instantly attach to the greek sculpture of his body, and you bite your lip absentmindedly as you caress his limbs with your gaze.

Under your longing specs, Aaron only leans himself forward, his body drawn to the thought of your willful and wanton touch. Catching on to his wants now, you sit up and allow your hands to grasp onto his waist, pulling him into you tenderly as your eyes flicker up to view his face.

Almost completely overtaken by the needs of your flesh, you place a series of supple kisses along Aaron’s abs. Your eyes don’t leave his stare as you decorate his skin with small pecks, teasing him just a little. But as his mind is dead set on how pretty your face is from this angle –and the tingles that erupt underneath his skin wherever your delicate hands are holding him– soft moans sneak through his lips.

Your skin heats at every moan, as they get more and more pronounced, and you get a bit sloppier with your technique. Instead of the innocent feather-light kisses you were delivering before, you part your lips to widen your kiss along his skin. Your wet kisses sound in the quiet room, ad-libbing over the music that had started back up on its own some time ago. The song you make is just enough to make Aaron even harder, and his whispered sounds of pleasure harmonize perfectly with your energy.

“Lay back.” He keeps his composure the best he can, his mind swirling with thoughts of you taking control of him and doing whatever you wanted. Yet, as you layed against the yielding cushions of your couch, luscious brown skin glistening underneath the dim light in your living room, all he knew is the only place he wanted to be, was with you. And he’d be damned if he messed it up over a phone call.

Slow hands reached for the button of his pants, and he took his time undoing the fastens that kept the fabric up on his hips. His movements sped up just a little as he got the pants off of his legs, and across the room, out of the way. The black breifs that once decorated his lower body are close behind, and then it’s just you and him.

Aaron’s kisses start at your feet, feather-light, gentle. He allows himself whatever pacing he found reasonable, for cherishing every piece of you. His lips trail up your calve, his large hand holding your leg in place as he nuzzles his nose in your skin to smell the luscious lotions you had put on hours earlier. As he gives the same amount of attention to your other leg, his kiss tender as ever as he memorizes every detail of your skin down to tracing scars, you can see just what his intentions are.

Your eyes water just a little as you watch him make a mental note of all of your details, goosebumps raising along your skin as he runs his strong hand along every inch. A gasp leaves your lips as the dopamine surging through your veins makes way for your skin to be even more heated, more pliable, more sensitive to his touch. He looks up for a moment to check in and when he sees your beautiful eyes staring back at him, a small grin raises on his lips.

The smile falls as he kisses up each of your thighs, the puddle between them worsening as he got closer. His lips fall onto the side of your thighs, traveling to your hips and the stretch marks that came with your grown woman weight. He caressed the skin adoringly, littering smaller kisses on each stripe of lighter skin he found. The breath caught in your throat as you thought of the implications of his doting actions, and the tears that had welled in your eyes were threatening to spill over.

“Aaron..” You called for him in a near-cry. Instantly, he brought his face right in front of yours, and you ran your hands along his shoulders, pulling him between your legs. His thick lips captured yours without any direction, and you kissed back eagerly, your manicured digits easing into the short curls on the back of his head. He drags the kiss on for a few more seconds, readying himself at your slick opening. When you feel his thick tip easing in just slightly, you wrap your legs around his waist tightly, trying to brace yourself for his length.

“You are so special to me, Y/N.” He mumbles against your lips before he pulls away to look you in the eyes. “I don’t ever want you to feel like I don’t care.” You reach your hand up to cup his cheek, as he continues to speak his heart to you.

“I love you, Y/N.” Aaron gives your lips a lush peck before he presses his forehead against yours, easing his throbbing cock into your wetness. You growl softly at the familiar feeling, a slight pressure reminding you of your first time together.

“Mmh, I love you too.” You whine, feeling him pull back out slowly, to thrust once again before he caught a swifter rhythm. All you can do is draw in more air, your exhales laced with high pitched exclamations of unexpected bliss.

“Daddy’s so sorry, princess.” He goes to nestle his face in the crook of your neck as he continues to make love to you a bit recklessly. Your breathing gets faster, your chest heaving up and down as you feel your climax rushing through your soma.

“Aghhh.” You squeal lightly, throwing your head back at the overwhelming feeling of his thickness going in and out, in and… out…in…and…out. Aaron recognizes your falsetto-esc moans, and leaves kisses on your ear before he whispers to you.

“Ugh, this alright?” He asks, his deep moans doing nothing but making it worse for you to concentrate on breathing right.

“Yes, baby… Shittttt…ugh y- so thick.” You almost hoped that he would take it easier on you, but Aaron had no such plans. His strong hands reached to your legs that were crossed behind his back, and pushed them up so that your knees touched your chest.

Carefully, he pulled out of you, staring down at your connection and the tracings of your pussy juices that decorated your folds, and his entire length. A gravelly moan leaves his vocal cords as he slides back into your opening, you welcoming him in with the tightest fit, and your eyebrows turn upward at such a fill.

“Fuckkk. I’m ‘bout to cum, baby.” Your whiny confession is followed by a hearty moan, and then you cover Aaron in your essence, dripping down your cunt to the couch beneath you, and circling his cock in the process. He slows down just a little bit, though he has no intentions of stopping, and leans toward you to give you the most silken kiss. Then, as he pulls away from your lips, gazing down into your eyes, he thrusts at this new, slower rhythm.

“Mmh, pussy so good.” A growl laced his mumbled words, as he fought the urge to pick up the pace even slightly. With rushed, panting breaths, he reached his hand up to your neck and grasped it just tight enough.

You feel a jump in the pit of your stomach as he works your core, effectively digging yet another nut out of you. As you feel just a little overstimulated, you reach up to his hand that is wrapped around your neck, and hold his wrist in place. You wouldn't dare tell him to stop. But it was so much, and he was so girthy... you didn't know how much more you could take.

Eyes glossy, you let in a deep breath, hoping to regulate yourself but instead, all you do is moan out loudly. You throw your head back yet again, this time unintelligible whimpers and mumbles leave your mouth, and a tear runs down the side of your face.

"A-Aaron." You croak quietly, grabbing at his hips with your free hand. You find yourself grasping at any flesh of his that is visible to your hazy eyes, and he just sighs in delight.

He bites his lip to try and stifle his own cries but moans slip through his teeth so eloquently, you can tell he's close. His strokes never falter; they just get sturdier, firmer. Soon, he's squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment to hold on for as long as he can.

With a few more thrusts and a couple more loud moans, he was releasing all of his gooey, warm elixir right inside of you.

“Ohh.” You breathe out tiredly, another wave rushing over you in your trembling climax.

Aaron pulls out of you tenderly now, hearing your combined moisture sound lewdly in the room. When he saw the mixture ease from your slightly stretched opening, he smiled boyishly and placed a kiss on your forehead and then your lips. You hum lovingly, revelling in the feeling of him giving you the soft Aaron you'd craved all day.

The two of you share a quiet beat, just trying to catch your breaths. And then a resolution pops into your head.

“I need this every day. Every once in a while ain’t cutting it.” You express, still catching your breath from your great session. He chuckles at your forwardness, and pecks your lips yet again as he thinks about how he could make such a request happen for you.

“Then maybe…I move closer…?” He ventures, just a bit unsure. With sparkling eyes, and a hand to his cheek you assure his suggestion with a bit of levity.

“Maybe you should.”

• • •

I do not condone any translations, replications or plagiarisms of my original work. Please do not repost as your own. Reblogs and comments/notes welcome. ♥︎

MDNI Banner by @renyanovyn

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#aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre #aaron pierre x reader #black fanfic writer #my fic #smutty fanfiction #smutty smut smut #18+ mdni #18 + only #mdni #Spotify

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s-i-ll-y-w-i-ll-y · 5 months ago

Text

Stalking

Hannigram x teen!reader

Summary: On their walk home, Y/N decides to help a cute couple with directions to a nearby hotel. However, this act of kindness is proof that what goes around does not come back around.

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

The bus screeched to a halt on an empty back road less than a mile away from your house. Your shift was finally done and you could relax until the cycle repeated tomorrow. A meek ‘thank you’ slipped from your mouth as you walked off the bus, a small smile on your lips as you turned your music up.

Gently bopping your head to the tune, you made your way across the road, lifting a hand to silently thank the car that had stopped to let you cross. The clouds slowly drifted across the navy sky, small specks of light tucked themselves behind the clouds then peeked back out as the obstructions moved along. The moon shone down and illuminated the wide road and dusty trail you stood on, the outlines of trees cast onto the ground below you.

God, it was beautiful.

Despite how eerie it was, it was beautiful.

The road seemed calm tonight, usually it was busy because it was a way to get to the city you just came from. Not tonight.

Thank god.

As you continued to walk down the path, cars whizzing past you at a million miles per hour, you couldn’t help but feel a small creeping sensation that something was wrong.

Something was going to be wrong.

But, for some strange reason, you ignored it. Why you ignored, you had no idea why you did, but you did.

You kicked up dirt as you walked, loving the way it looked on the ground, dancing in the gentle breeze. That gut feeling plagued you, growing more and more until-

“Hi, excuse me?”

A soft voice made you peel off your headphones, letting them fall to your neck, and look over to the road. You planted your feet and settled your eyes on the man who was still rolling down his car window.

You stepped slightly closer and put your hands in your pockets. “Can I help you, sir?”

The man was thin and pale, his features hardly in the poor light of the car. The man wore a flannel shirt and dark jeans, a brown belt holding them up. He had brown, curly hair that draped over his forehead, he had a button nose and slightly stubble. The man cleared his throat and gave a small smile, “Me and my husband were wondering if you could give us directions to hotel…hotel…Hannibal, what was the hotels name again?” The man turned to the man sat beside him.

“Cecilia. Hotel Cecilia.” The man’s husband, Hannibal, gave a thin lipped smile as he spoke to his partner. His husband looked older than him, not by a lot but enough to see the difference. He had mostly grey hair with spots of brown sprinkled about, his eyes were a hazel colour, his nose arched up in the middle but it suited him. He wore a clearly rich and tailored suit; red with a black pattern stitched into it, a black shirt and a red tie.

You listened as the man thanked his husband and turned back to you. Thinking as fast as you could, you tried to remember the way there. Then it clicked. A gentle grin slipped onto your lips as you spoke, watching the man in the drivers seat take a mental note of everything you had said. As you stopped, you looked back at the road, the headlights were the only thing stopping the inky blackness from enveloping the car and you. It was going to be such a trek and your parents wanted you home by ten.

“Thank you so so much.” The man said, “We would’ve used our phones but they’ve both gone and died, thanks to our luck.”

You chuckled along with the man’s slight attempt at a joke. “It’s no problem, I’m happy to help.”

A few thoughts ran through the man’s mind before he stopped thinking and said the first thing we could think of:

“Do you want a ride?”

That feeling crept up your spine, making you feel queasy. As nice as it was for him to ask it was still odd. You didn’t know them, they didn’t know you. “It’s fine, my house isn’t too far-“

“We insist. We would be lost without you.” The husband chimed in. “And, it is getting late, your parents would want you home, wouldn’t they?”

That feeling in your stomach reached the back of your throat, urging you to turn and run. For once, you decided to trust your gut feeling-

“Thank you but I’m alright.” Politely, you stepped away from the car and turned to keep walking. The men shared a look then looked back at you as you began to walk away.

You heard the engine stall before starting, then they took off down the road and that was the last you saw of them.

~~~

Around twenty minutes later, your trail lead you in front of a gas station. The neon lights from each sign shone onto the bleak road, painting it in hues of orange, green and white. The pale light reflected off of car windows and side view mirrors, hitting your eyes sharply.

You hadn’t drank anything in a while, plus you would have to wait an extra ten minutes to heat up your dinner when you got back home so what’s the big deal with a quick snack stop?Glancing away, you tried to check for oncoming cars and, luckily, there was nothing. Then you crossed the gravel, eventually reaching entrance to the gas station.

A satisfying ding announced your arrival to the pimply clerk behind the counter who gave you a less than enthusiastic look. Ignoring him, you browsed the aisles, trying to find anything that would be easy to eat and drink on the go. You swore to yourself; no sandwiches, no fiddly wrappers or bottle caps, just easy to open things.

Needing to keep yourself awake, you bought yourself an energy drink then you made your way over to the snack aisle which stood in front of the main entrance. As you scanned over your options, the bright, white headlights outside blinded you. Although it was a minor inconvenience, you scowled at the car, still unable to see who was driving, and internally swore at them for their accidental action.

After finally deciding on a snack, you walked over to the counter and placed your things down. You slipped your headphones down and around your neck, music paused, casting an odd silence which was subtly interrupted by the radio station which echoed from the broken speakers.

The cashier huffed and scanned the items slowly, as if even the thought of doing his job was strenuous. Your eyes wandered back out the window, tuning out the cashier slightly as your eyes scanned over the few cars that were refuelling, one was the car those two men had driven earlier.

That’s odd.

Didn’t they go flying up the road? How were they here at the same time as you if they did?

The clicking of the cashier’s fingers snapped you back to reality. “Sorry.” You mumbled halfheartedly, scrambling to grab the money from your pocket. In the midst of the scramble, you tried to pick up your drink, only for it to fall and burst on the floor. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, d’you want me to-“

The cashier sighed loudly, “No, it’s fine. I’ll get it.” Then he walked to the back, returning with a wet floor sign in hand. You listened subtly as an array of swears left his lips as he slammed the sign onto the floor and trudged over to the drink aisle, grabbing another of the same drink for you.

As this happened, and while your mind was distant from your body, the same satisfying ding rung out again. When your mind finally snapped back, you registered that someone had walked in and you glanced over your shoulder.

Then you saw them.

The two men were tall, taller than you thought and taller than you by a mile.

When you realised you were staring, your head whipped back around to the counter, fingers rhythmically tapped against the cool, grey countertop.

As the cashier you had walked back over, another from the back room walked out to help the two men. The moved to the counter beside you, only paying for a bottle of water and their gas. The cashier helping you handed the new drink to you, a forced smile plastered on their face. A small thank you left your lips as you turned and left, avoiding the men at the counter.

The cold night air enveloped you, an unwelcome sensation slivering up your spine. You glanced over your shoulder and watched as the two men walked out the gas station, their silhouettes ominously still, the light from the gas station surrounding them entirely, making them appear ethereal.

That sinking feeling slipped down your throat once again, making you start walking faster. The headlights from the car slowly trailed behind you before catching up and going just fast enough to keep you in the rear view mirror.

Maybe you were just paranoid? Who knows. At this point you were not willing to see if your gut feeling was true.

Your feet carried you for another fifteen minutes, leaving you with only fifteen more until you reached the safe warmth of your home and the welcoming embrace of your parents.

The turn for your road came eventually, just a small dirt path off the side of the road with pine trees boxing in each side of the road. Quickly, you made the turn, gazing over your shoulder to see if the car had kept driving.

It did.

Despite the relief you felt, that underlying tone of worry had settled in the pit of your stomach. This refused to let you calm, keeping you in a horrible fight or flight state.

As you walked down the road wearily. Your headphones stayed on, helping you tune out some fear you had. Although this worked for a while, the feeling of being watched slipped into the back of your mind. You pushed that thought down, reminding yourself you had ten minutes left until you were home, until you were safe. As hard as you tried, nothing could keep this feeling down.

Suddenly, as if out of your control, you whipped your head around. Your face dropped.

There, following you from behind, was that car, it’s headlights turned off. You hadn’t heard the engine over your music. Then the car stopped, your heart sank. Their doors opened and the men stepped out, slowly making their way over to you cautiously, as if trying to keep an animal calm. Every step the men took was calculated, deciding what would keep you from freaking out and doing something drastic.

Nothing could at this point.

You took off down the road, leaping over potholes and racing through puddles. Your clothes were ruined and you were freezing.

With trembling hands, you reached for your phone, your legs moving as fast as they could. The sound of the men’s footsteps grew louder amongst the sounds of the forest which, despite being a few feet away, sounded so distant over the sound of your heart. Your eyes moved down to your phone screen, hands racing to dial your parents or 911.

In a blur, your phone flew from your hand as your shoe caught on a rock in the road, sending you flying onto your front. You lay there for a minute, your head spinning as you thought about everything. In an instant, you snapped back, getting to your feet, ignoring the stinging pain from your knee.

From then on, you staggered down the road, your injured knee making it neatly impossible to run. That would be your demise.

The heavy weight of a blunt object, you assumed to be a crowbar, smacked against the side of your head, knocking you to the floor and leaving you partially unconscious. The immense feeling of dread spilled up and went out your eyes. Tears flowed down your flushed cheeks as the man got up and flung you into his arms, holding you against his chest, his firm hands cracking your head as if it were fine china.

“Will,” the man spoke, his voice smooth due to his prominent accent, “do you believe they will suffice?”

The other man, Will, paused and walked over, tracing a gentle hand over your face, his palm lingering on your chin as he began to brush away stray tears. “Certainly more flighty than the last one but we can deal with that later, wouldn’t want our child escaping us first thing.”

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

Finished Saturday October 5th 2024, 03:14.

5/10/24

#platonic #nbc hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal #will graham x hannibal lecter #hannigram x reader #will graham x reader #hannibal x reader #hannigram x child!reader #hannibal x child!reader #will graham x child!reader

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ladadiida · 1 year ago

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𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth. or, you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i swear i cannot escape a brainrot whenever i watch a new show. this automatically wrote itself, i don't even remember how i came up with this idea. anyway, i'm surprised there aren't many sanji fics that involves the unrequited love trope, seeing that it suits him. or maybe that's just me. this is only a SNEAK PEEK though.

𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 full version now published here!

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite dessert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

again, this is only a sneak peek of the actual fic, i'm currently halfway in completing it. please let me know if you want to read it, because i might publish it next week. if not, i'll just drown in sorrow and self-pity.

#opla #opla x reader #opla x y/n #one piece #one piece live action #opla sanji #one piece sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji live action #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #opla sanji x reader #angst #one piece sanji x reader #ਏਓ ladadiida

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lowryuk · 9 days ago

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What Was Mine.

Pairing: Eren x F!Reader, Jean x F!Reader

Word Count: 10K

Summary: Your older sister, Mikasa, steals your first love so you get your lick back. But it becomes a little more complicated…

A/N: Ahhhh, my first fic on here!! Let me know your thoughts and if you’d like to see an alternative version because I wrote this like 3 different times before settling on this one LOL.

(Warnings are below the undercut)

Warning(s): Angst, reader is adopted, cheating, heavy betrayal, rough sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, overstimulation, dirty talk, possessive!eren, multiple orgasms, dry humping, teasing, begging, cum eating, unprotected sex (wrap ur Willy pls), lowkey sad reader but it gets better, happy ending

I will post this on AO3 as soon as I get invited which should be around sometime next week!

There was a time when Jean was your everything. The boy who made your heart race, the one you thought you'd grow old with. He was your first love, your best friend—the one person who made the world feel small and safe with just a look. You were so sure of him, so certain that no matter what, he’d always be yours.

You met him at a party. One of those suffocating high school gatherings where the air was thick with sweat and cheap beer, where kids who barely liked each other pretended they were family for the night. You weren’t supposed to be there—Mikasa had dragged you along, making it clear she wasn’t going to hold your hand or play babysitter.

She didn’t say it outright, but you knew what she was thinking. You were only there because of her. Because her parents had taken you in, raised you as their own. Because no matter how many years passed, no matter how many times people called you “sisters,” you would always be the outsider.

And then there was Jean.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter, red solo cup in hand, grinning at something Connie had said. His laughter was loud, careless, the kind that filled a room without trying. The dim lighting made the sharp angles of his face more defined, casting shadows that made him look older than he was. He exuded confidence—comfortable in his own skin in a way most high school boys weren’t.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, he looked at you.

And for a second, everything else—the music, the voices, the heat of the packed house—faded into the background.

You turned away quickly, pulse stammering in your throat, but it was too late. The moment had already settled into your bones, anchoring itself somewhere deep, somewhere permanent.

The party moved on without you. People came and went, music thumped against the walls, conversations turned to white noise. But you felt his presence like a weight against your skin. Every time you dared to glance in his direction, he was already looking back.

It wasn’t until much later, when the night had blurred into a drunken haze of movement and sound, that fate intervened. Someone shoved past you in the crowd, sending you stumbling forward—right into him.

A hand caught your wrist, steadying you before you could fall.

"Woah, you good?" His voice was smooth up close, warmer than you expected.

You lifted your head, suddenly hyper aware of how close you were. The scent of him—something faintly like cologne, something distinctly his—lingered between you.

"Yeah," you managed, breathless. "Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention."

Jean smirked. It wasn’t mocking—it was curious, amused, like he’d just discovered something interesting.

"You’re Mikasa’s sister, right?"

There it was again. That title.

It shouldn’t have bothered you, but it did. You were used to hearing it, used to the way people looked at you when they said it. Like they were reminding you of something you were supposed to remember.

You nodded, half-expecting him to brush you off, to turn back to his friends. But he didn’t. Instead, he let his gaze flicker over you, something unreadable in his expression.

"You want a drink?" he asked, and somehow, it felt less like a question and more like a challenge.

You weren’t sure why, but you followed him.

The next hour passed in a blur. You weren’t drinking much, but Jean was intoxicating enough on his own—his sharp wit, his effortless charm, the way he leaned in just a little when he talked to you, like you were the only person worth listening to. He had a way of making you feel seen, like every glance was intentional, like every smirk was meant just for you.

It was stupid, how easily he pulled you in. How quickly you forgot the world outside of this moment, this feeling.

And then, at some point, the night was over. The house was thinning out, the music quieter, the air cooler as you stepped outside. Jean walked with you, hands in his pockets, eyes flicking over to you in intervals like he was debating something.

Then, finally—hesitantly—he stopped.

"Hey," he said, voice softer than before. "I had fun tonight."

You looked up at him, searching his face, waiting for him to say something else. And when he didn’t, when he only stood there watching you, waiting, you knew.

It happened before you could overthink it. He leaned in first, but you met him halfway.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, lingering just long enough to make your chest tighten. His hands found your waist, fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of your shirt, grounding you. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t reckless—it was the kind of kiss that felt like a promise.

And back then, you believed in promises.

You were young. Naïve. Convinced that love, once found, couldn’t be undone.

Because at that moment, Jean was everything.

And he was for the last 4 years until his birthday night.

It was supposed to be his night. Jean’s 20th birthday—the one you’d planned so carefully, hoping to surprise him. You’d put everything together: the decorations, the cake, even his favorite drinks. You had spent hours making sure every detail was perfect because you knew how much he appreciated things like this. He came in, eyes wide in surprise, and when he saw you, there was that warmth in his expression—the kind that made your chest tighten. He was grateful, and you were too, basking in the glow of his genuine happiness.

The night went by in a blur of laughter, music, and clinking glasses. Jean spent time with his friends, and you were busy with yours, navigating the usual ebb and flow of a party. You watched him from across the room occasionally, smiling to yourself at how easy he was to talk to, how he’d light up a room just by being in it.

It wasn’t until it was time for the cake cutting that you realized he had slipped away. You looked around the crowded room, your gaze flicking to the spots where you’d seen him last, but he wasn’t there.

Curious, you made your way through the house, trying to spot him. Your eyes flicked over every face you passed, but he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he was in the backyard, you thought. You started searching the rooms upstairs, thinking maybe he just needed a moment to himself.

Then, as you walked past Mikasa’s door, you heard it.

His voice.

It made your blood run cold.

Without thinking, your hand reached for the door handle, a nervous tremor running through your fingers. The knob creaked under your touch, and as the door cracked open, your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

There they were.

Jean. Mikasa.

Kissing.

His hand in between your sister's legs and his other hand gripping on her breast. You froze, unable to tear your eyes away. Your lungs tightened, and before you knew it, tears started to blur your vision. The ache in your chest was so sharp, it felt like your entire world had just shattered.

They didn’t even notice you. Not at first. They were lost in each other. But when you sobbed—just once, a broken gasp of disbelief—it was enough to catch their attention.

Jean’s eyes widened in horror, and Mikasa, too, seemed startled, but the damage was done. You couldn’t move fast enough. Your body turned on its own accord, propelling you back downstairs, retreating into the chaos of the party.

The voices, the music, the laughter—it all collided in your mind, distorting everything around you. You didn’t care anymore. None of it mattered.

Your best friend grabbed hold of you, her face contorted in concern as she noticed your tear-streaked face and the way your breathing was shallow, rapid.

“Hey,” she said, voice trembling with worry. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

But you couldn’t speak. The words were tangled in your throat.

She rushed you out of the house and took you back to her place. Your phone buzzed in your pocket—Jean, messages, calls, apologies. You couldn’t bring yourself to read any of them. Without even thinking, you blocked Jean on everything. Facebook. Instagram. Texts. Calls. You didn’t want anything from him anymore.

You collapsed in her arms, sobbing until your body felt like it might break.

The blowout after that night was messy. People took sides. Jean and Mikasa’s friends stood by them, defending what they’d done, making excuses. But you couldn’t stomach it.

Even your parents, who didn’t agree with what Mikasa had done, found a way to justify it. “She’s your sister, and maybe they were in love. Maybe you were in the way of that.”

“Life is strange,” they said.

And through all of it, they expected you to forgive her. “Please, find it in your heart. She’s still your sister.”

It wasn’t that easy.

Time passed, and you focused on healing—on trying to forget, or at least bury the pain long enough to function. But the ache never really went away. Not when Mikasa and Jean made their relationship official. Not when she brought him around the house, acting like nothing had ever happened. And definitely not when you’d have to listen, helpless, to the sounds of them together.

The sound of her laughing, of their whispers, of him—him—with her, in the same spaces that used to feel like home.

The betrayal was a weight you couldn’t lift, and you started to wonder if you ever would.

Their relationship seemed to be smooth sailing after that. Mikasa and Jean were inseparable, the picture-perfect couple everyone admired. She flaunted it, of course. Every chance she got, she rubbed it in your face, whether it was with a sly comment, a smug smile, or the way she’d casually mention Jean’s name in conversation—like she had to make sure you knew, that you saw how happy she was. How perfect they were.

And it stung every time. Every time she smiled too brightly when she mentioned him, or when they’d show up together at family dinners, laughing, holding hands, as if everything was normal. But nothing felt normal. Not to you.

It wasn’t that you wanted Jean back. You’d buried that pain deep down, letting time work its numbing magic. But seeing them together—seeing her with him—was a constant reminder of how she had taken something you once thought was yours. And for what? Was it worth it? Was he worth all of this?

Then, a year later, Eren Yeager stepped into the picture, and suddenly, everything changed.

He was new to the city, fresh-faced and confident, a star on the court with a reputation that preceded him. He was everything Jean wasn’t—intense, magnetic, with a presence that made people stop and take notice. Eren wasn’t just another guy. He was the guy.

It didn’t take long for him to become well-known at university. You could see the effect he had on people—on the girls who couldn’t stop talking about him, on the guys who wanted to be him, and the way Mikasa’s eyes followed him whenever he walked by.

At first, you thought it was just harmless admiration. But soon, you could tell it was something more. You saw the way she’d pause when he entered the room, how her face softened in a way it never did around Jean.

And Jean noticed too. He wasn’t blind. It didn’t take long for him to start feeling the pressure—especially when Mikasa began to subtly pull away from him, her attention now split between her boyfriend and her new, undeniable crush.

Jean wasn’t the kind of guy to back down, but you could see it in his eyes, the insecurity creeping in. Mikasa was slipping from his grasp, and Eren was right there, making his move without even realizing it.

You, on the other hand, stayed quiet. You weren’t going to say anything. You weren’t going to make it worse. But it was hard not to notice the way Eren’s presence changed the dynamic—how Mikasa’s attention shifted.

It was like watching a slow-motion car crash and you couldn’t look away.

Connie and Sasha were quick to befriend Eren, welcoming him into their circle as if they’d known him for years. Mikasa, unsurprisingly, was thrilled, her excitement visible every time he was around. It didn’t take long for you to notice the shift. Jean, on the other hand, was becoming noticeably more distant, his cool façade hiding what was likely insecurity. He was fading from the group.

Then, one evening, it all came to light. Over a casual family dinner, Mikasa casually mentioned that she and Jean had split. No drama, no confrontation, just a matter-of-fact statement as though it didn’t matter.

And it hit you like a ton of bricks. Your sister had ruined something that was once beautiful—for no damn reason. Mikasa had always been so quick to go after what she wanted. Now, she had Eren, and you? Well, you were left to pick up the pieces of what she had torn apart.

It didn’t take long for Mikasa to set her sights on Eren. Within a month, they were official. She paraded him around like a trophy, gushing about how he was the captain of the basketball team, how he carried the team to victory every game. She thrived on the attention—not just from him, but from everyone else on campus. She was dating the golden boy, and she wanted everyone to know it.

But it all faltered when Eren met you.

It happened on a quiet evening. Your parents were away on business, Mikasa was supposed to be with Eren, and for once, you had the house to yourself. Dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts that barely passed as clothing and a loose tank top, you were sprawled out on the couch, enjoying the rare solitude.

Then the front door burst open.

You turned your head just as Mikasa rushed inside, Eren trailing behind her. You sat up slightly, the movement making your top slip lower, exposing more than enough to be considered inappropriate. Mikasa's eyes narrowed.

“What the hell are you wearing?” she snapped.

You blinked, feigning innocence. “Didn’t know you were coming back, let alone bringing someone. I’m just in my comfy clothes.” You shrugged, making no move to cover up.

It was then that you felt his stare.

Eren hadn’t looked away since the moment he walked in. His gaze was heavy, dark, lingering. He wasn’t subtle about it either, drinking you in like he was committing every inch of you to memory. And that’s when the idea struck.

At first, this was accidental. A chance encounter. But now? Now it was an opportunity.

You knew Mikasa better than anyone. You had watched her cycle through relationships, but never had she been as enamored as she was with Eren. It wasn’t just him—she loved what he represented. The status, the envy in other girls’ eyes when she walked into a room with him on her arm. He was an ego boost, a walking validation of her importance.

And you made it your mission to take him from her.

It started subtly. The skimpy outfits when he came over, the calculated flirting when Mikasa was too preoccupied scrolling through her phone to listen to him go on about last night’s game. But you listened. You engaged. You actually cared about what he had to say, and it didn’t help that you were breathtaking while doing it.

And Eren noticed.

The way his eyes lingered a second too long, the way his voice dropped when he spoke to you, the way he leaned in just a little closer than necessary. You could feel the shift, the unspoken tension building between you both. He was slipping, and you were ready to catch him.

Then, at some overcrowded party, it finally happened.

Mikasa was off somewhere, lost in the sea of her so-called friends, and you had been searching for him. You found him in the back of the house, seated on a couch, playing cards with a group of guys you didn’t recognize. The moment he spotted you, his lips curled into a smirk, and he patted the empty space beside him.

You didn’t hesitate.

They dealt you into the game, but neither of you were paying attention. His arm draped lazily across the back of the couch, his fingers tracing light patterns against your bare shoulder. You leaned into it, just slightly, but enough for him to notice.

The tension was suffocating, electric.

You weren’t sure who moved first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was you. But suddenly, his fingers were in your hair, tilting your head toward him, and your hands found his jaw, pulling him down. The moment your lips met, the rest of the world ceased to exist.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn't careful.

It was desperate.

Eren’s arm curled around your waist, dragging you onto his lap like he had been waiting for this moment all his life. His hands burned against your skin, his touch rough, hungry. The kiss deepened, his tongue sweeping past your lips, tasting like whiskey and recklessness.

The guys around you barely reacted, either too high to care or too used to this kind of debauchery. But it didn’t matter.

You feel the bulge growing in his pants and moan softly when the denim of his jeans slightly rubs against your clit. You try to pull away, just enough to see how far Eren is willing to go, to test him, to see if he’ll hesitate.

But he doesn’t.

His grip tightens around your waist, keeping you flush against him, his breath hot against your lips. His eyes, half-lidded and dark with something unmistakable—search yours, daring you to stop him.

“Eren, we can’t—” your voice is barely a whisper, a weak protest, but even you don’t believe it.

“Let’s go to my car,” he breathes, his lips brushing against your jaw, trailing lower, voice thick with want.

Your stomach flips. The rational part of your mind warns you, reminds you that Mikasa is somewhere in this house, that this is wrong.

But then his hands slide down your thighs, fingertips pressing into bare skin, and suddenly, you don’t care.

He pulls you out of the crowd and to his car, opening the back door and pushing you in before getting on top of you and kissing you all over. You laid on his back seat, dress pulled up to your stomach as Eren grinds his bulge against your slit. His hands roamed your body, exploring your curves with an urgency. He cupped your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple, eliciting a gasp from you.

"Fuck, Eren," you moaned, leaning into his touch. He responded with a low growl, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses.

He moved between your legs, his fingers coming down and finding your pussy wet and ready. You let out a gasp as he began to tease you, his thumb circling your clit in a maddening rhythm.

You moaned louder, head falling back against the seat, surrendering to the pleasure. Eren continued his motions, his fingers dipping inside you, making you squirm with each thrust. "Eren please, m’ gonna cum," you panted, body trembling with the impending orgasm.

Eren didn't stop. He increased his pace, his fingers moving in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit. You came with a cry, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. But Eren wasn't done. He pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean. "You taste so fucking good," he growled, his eyes dark with lust.

He moved lower, his hands pushing your legs apart. He buried his face between your thighs, his tongue finding your clit. “Eren!” You squeal, hands tangling in his hair as he begins to lick and suck, his tongue dipping inside you, tasting you. You come again, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

Eren moved back up, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, a heady mix of arousal and his desire. You reached for his pants, your fingers fumbling with the zipper. You pulled his dick out, long and hard, ready for you to take.

You sat up and straddled him, his hand guiding his dick to your entrance. You sank down on him, taking him inch by inch. He filled you completely, stretching you more than Jean ever could. You begin to ride him, hips moving urgently, like you had been waiting for him your whole life. Eren's hands were everywhere, cupping your breasts, squeezing your ass, pulling your hair. He was rough, his touch bordering on painful, but it only served to heighten your pleasure.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking pretty. You have no idea how fucking long I’ve waited to do this.” he utters, thrusting his hips up to meet yours. You squeak in response, syncing up with his thrusts and nearly crying at the sheer pleasure he brought you as the tip of his dick reached your overstimulated g-spot.

You knew the car must be shaking but at that point you didn’t care. The world was second until you soaked his cock with your cum and nearly passed out in exhaustion. You’ve had sex countless times with Jean, but never once had he made you feel like this. You nearly laugh at yourself, at the absurdity of it all. You used to think Jean was everything, used to cry over him, used to let his half-assed love break you. But now? Now, with Eren fucking Yeager between your legs, making you feel things you didn’t even know were possible, you realize how foolish you were.

Mikasa really saved you from mediocre sex for the rest of your life.

The car reeked of sex, but neither of you minded. You were trying to collect yourself, touching up your makeup and hoping that feeling would come back to your legs, but Eren kept kissing on you.

“Eren, we have to go back, or people are gonna notice we’re MIA.”

“Let them notice,” he mutters against your skin, nuzzling into your neck and making you giggle.

“Stop, your girlfriend is going to have my head if she finds out.”

He pulls back slightly, green eyes locking onto yours. “We’re not gonna tell her?”

You give him a dumbfounded look. “Of course not! She’d kill me! Her room is right across from mine—there’s no doubt in my mind that she’d suffocate me with a pillow.”

Eren sighs, shaking his head. “It’s a shame. I wish I met you first.”

Your heart skips. But you recover quickly, tilting your head. “I’m not saying we can’t do this again.”

That makes him smirk. “Our little secret, huh?”

You lean in, pressing one more kiss to his lips before slipping out of the car and heading back inside.

After that night, things spiraled. Sneaking around became second nature—quickies in the janitor’s closet, locker rooms, empty classrooms, even a napping pod once. It was reckless. It was thrilling. And it didn’t help that Eren was so good. Too good.

Whenever he’d come over, you’d be lounging on the couch, and the second Mikasa got up to grab a snack, he’d have you pulled onto his lap, kissing you like he was starving. And before she could see, you’d be on the other end of the couch, casually scrolling through your phone, stifling laughter.

Then, it shifted. The secret dates started. And the biggest problem emerged—you were falling in love with him. And worse, he was falling in love with you.

The guilt set in. Not because you were sleeping with your sister’s boyfriend. No, you didn’t give a damn about that. But because you didn’t want Eren to feel like a pawn in your game. You didn’t want him to wake up one day, realize the truth, and feel used.

So, you came clean.

It was late. You’d already had sex, and now you were sitting in his car, eating ice cream. He could tell something was off. The ice cream was his way of cheering you up.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice was gentle, but there was an edge of concern. “You’re being quiet. It’s freaking me out.”

You inhaled deeply. “If I asked you to break up with my sister for me, would you?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Your stomach dropped. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting.

“Why… Do you want me to?”

“I was just wondering why you haven’t already.”

He sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Because I don’t know what we are. I feel bad for dragging your sister along, but I don’t feel that connection with her. She tries to like my interests, tries to be a good girlfriend, but it all feels forced. With you… It’s just easy. Like you were made for me or something.”

His sincerity made your chest ache. Your eyes burned. He noticed immediately, setting his ice cream down and pulling you over the console onto his lap, reclining the seat so you could lay comfortably against him.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he murmured, voice softer now.

“I don’t think we can keep doing this, Eren.”

His jaw tightened. His arms locked around you like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. “Don’t say that.”

You swallowed hard. “I feel bad for dragging you into this.”

“Why?”

You took a shaky breath and told him everything. About Jean. About Mikasa. About how the night you met him, you’d plotted to use him against her, knowing how much she liked him. By the time you finished, tears streamed down your face, the weight of your confession crushing you.

Eren’s expression hardened. His jaw clenched, fingers tapping against the steering wheel in a way that made your stomach twist. Then, without a word, he reached for the seat controls, pushing it back into place before lifting you off his lap and setting you back into the passenger seat. The silence was suffocating.

You buried your face in the sleeve of your sweater, unable to look at him as he started the car. The drive back was agonizing. He didn’t speak, didn’t even glance in your direction. When he finally pulled up a block away from your house, he didn’t tell you to get out, didn’t ask if you were okay. He just waited. Watched. And the second you slipped inside, he sped off, leaving you alone with the hollow ache in your chest.

Eren didn’t message you after that. And you didn’t reach out to him either. He was still with Mikasa, and that broke you more than you wanted to admit. You avoided them, choosing to immerse yourself in school, in your friends—anything to keep yourself from falling apart.

But Eren saw you. And when he did, his stare burned into you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, he became the perfect boyfriend. Mikasa was happier than ever, always by his side, gushing about their dates, his sweet gestures, the way he looked at her like she hung the stars. And you? You were unraveling.

You tried to distract yourself—drinks at random bars, meaningless hookups with men who never once made you feel the way Eren did. But it only made things worse. Left you feeling emptier, dirtier. So you stopped. Chose to rot in your bed instead, watching mindless shows to drown out your thoughts.

Then one night, everything changed.

It was late, the house quiet except for the hum of your TV. Mikasa had left hours ago, off to some party, giddy about spending the weekend with Eren. Your parents were away too, leaving you entirely alone. It was supposed to be peaceful.

But then came the pounding on the front door.

Your heart lurched as you glanced at the window, spotting Eren’s car parked outside.

What the hell?

You grabbed a bat before making your way downstairs, your pulse hammering. Peeking through the peephole, you saw him—his expression unreadable, chest rising and falling heavily.

You hesitated, but opened the door anyway.

“You scared the hell—”

Eren pushed past you, eyes scanning the room before snatching the bat from your hand. He didn’t stop, storming up the stairs like a man possessed.

“Eren, what the fuck are you doing?” You shut the door and followed after him, heart pounding.

He threw open your bedroom door, searching like a madman—checking under your bed, inside your closet, even the bathroom. Then he turned to you, eyes dark, wild.

“Where is he?”

“What?”

“Jean.” His voice was a growl. “I know he’s here. Don’t fucking lie to me.”

You stared at him, utterly baffled. “Jean? Why the fuck would he be here?” You argue.

Eren’s jaw tightened as he stepped closer, backing you against the wall. His scent surrounded you—faint cologne mixed with something desperate, something unhinged.

“Your friend told me he was here,” he said through gritted teeth. “And Jean was nowhere to be fucking seen at that party.”

Your brows furrowed. “My friend?” You turned your phone over and sure enough, there was a notification from her: ‘Angry Eren headed your way 🫡.’

You exhaled, rolling your eyes as you showed him the screen. “She lied to you. He’s not here.”

Eren’s eyes flickered with relief for only a second before something darker took over. He grabbed your phone, tossed it onto the bed, and then his lips crashed onto yours.

“Fuck it,” he muttered between kisses, hands gripping your waist. “I can’t stop fucking thinking about you.”

You gasped as he pushed you onto the mattress, his weight pressing down on you. His fingers trailed up your thigh, squeezing, possessive.

“You have me so fucking crazy in the head,” he rasped against your lips. “Had me leaving a party, abandoning my girlfriend to see if you were with that piece of shit.”

His mouth was everywhere—your neck, your jaw, your collarbone. Desperate. Consuming.

“Thought I could ignore you. Move the fuck on after you used me like that. But fuck,” his teeth grazed your skin, making you shudder, “I can’t stop thinking about you. I close my fucking eyes, and I see you. I get into my car, and I miss you. I read our messages every fucking day, hoping you’ll reach out. But you never fucking did.”

His words made your chest tighten, your hands fisting his hoodie. “Eren…”

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, breath uneven. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured. “And I will.”

But you didn’t.

Instead, you pulled him closer, sealing your fate with a kiss that tasted like everything you’d been running from.

Eren’s lips trail down your jaw, rough and desperate, his breath heavy against your skin. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s kissing you again, like he’s trying to make up for every second he spent ignoring you. His hands are gripping your waist, fingers digging in like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“You fucking ruined me,” he mutters against your lips, his voice low, strained. “Made me lose my fucking mind. Do you know how many times I’ve been this close—” his hand moves up your thigh, pushing your tank top higher “—to driving to your house in the middle of the night?”

Your heart is hammering against your ribs, but you manage to whisper, “Then why didn’t you?”

His eyes darken, and suddenly, he’s flipping you onto your back, pressing you into the mattress. “Because you didn’t fucking reach out,” he growls. “You left me there, made me think I was just a fucking game to you.”

You shake your head, fingers gripping the back of his neck. “It wasn’t like that. I swear.”

Eren scoffs. “Then why’d you do it? Huh?” He’s searching your face, looking for something—maybe a reason not to hate you, not to love you as much as he does. “Why’d you play with me like that?”

Your throat tightens, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. You don’t even know if you can say it. But when you look into his eyes, into the frustration, the longing, the hurt—you know you have to.

“I was angry,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “Mikasa… she took everything from me. I just wanted to take something from her for once.”

Eren’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t loosen his grip on you, doesn’t stop looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“Then why does it feel like I’m the one who took something from you?” he mutters.

You swallow hard. “Because I didn’t expect to fall for you.”

Eren exhales sharply, like the words just knocked the air out of him. His fingers tighten on your hips, and he curses under his breath before pressing his forehead against yours.

“Say it again,” he murmurs.

Your breath hitches. “Eren—”

“Say it again.” His voice is hoarse, pleading. His lips ghost over yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet.

You close your eyes, hands trembling as they tangle in his hair. And then, softly, “I fell for you.”

A sound leaves his throat—something between a sigh and a groan—before he’s crashing his lips into yours, kissing you like he’s starving, like he’s been waiting for this moment since the day you walked out of his car.

And maybe he has.

Eren’s hands are everywhere—gripping your thighs, sliding under your shirt, tilting your chin up so he can kiss you deeper. It’s messy, desperate, all-consuming. You feel like you’re drowning in him, in the way he holds you like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

“You’re mine,” he breathes against your lips, like he’s making a vow. His hands tighten around your waist, pressing you closer to him. “I don’t give a fuck about anything else. I don’t care what we were supposed to be—I just know I can’t lose you again.”

Your chest is heaving, heart pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it. “Eren…”

“I mean it,” he growls, his lips ghosting over your jaw, down your neck. “I don’t care about Mikasa. I don’t care about Jean. I don’t care about whatever the fuck happened before—I just want you.”

Your breath catches, fingers trembling as they dig into his shoulders. “Eren, if we do this… there’s no going back.”

“Good,” he mutters, pressing his forehead against yours. His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide. “I don’t fucking want to go back.”

And then he’s kissing you again, harder this time, like he’s trying to fuse himself to you. Like he’s trying to make up for every second you spent apart.

You don’t stop him. You don’t want to.

You let him pull you closer, let him steal the breath from your lungs, let him drag you under because if this is what drowning feels like—being swallowed whole by Eren Yeager—you don’t ever want to come up for air.

Eren’s hands slide under your shirt, rough palms grazing over your heated skin. He’s impatient—grabbing, pulling, desperate to feel more of you, like he’s scared you’ll slip away if he lets go for even a second.

“Tell me you missed me,” he pants against your lips, his breath hot, his voice low and dangerous.

You swallow hard, head spinning. “Eren—”

“Say it.” His fingers dig into your hips, his jaw clenched so tight you think he might shatter. “Tell me you fucking missed me like I missed you.”

Your throat is dry, your heart slamming against your ribs. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, don’t want to let him know just how badly you’ve been aching for him, but you can’t lie. Not to him.

“I missed you,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath.

His eyes darken, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah?”

You nod, hands gripping his shoulders, trying to ground yourself, but he’s everywhere—filling your senses, stealing the air from your lungs.

He leans in, lips brushing over your ear. “Then show me.”

And just like that, all hesitation crumbles. You crash into him, fingers threading through his hair as you kiss him like you’ll never get the chance again. He groans against your mouth, hands roaming your body like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead pressing against yours. His eyes, normally sharp and cold, are burning with something raw, something unspoken.

“You’re mine,” he breathes. It’s not a question. It’s not a request. It’s a fucking fact.

And for the first time, you don’t want to fight it.

You nod. “I’m yours.”

Eren lets out a shaky breath, like he’s been waiting forever to hear you say that. Then, with a smirk, he grips your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“Damn right you are.”

Eren doesn’t waste another second. His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your shirt, his fingers digging into your skin like he wants to pull you inside him.

“You have no fucking idea what you do to me,” he growls against your lips, yanking your body flush against his. You can feel him—hard, throbbing, pressing into you like he’s already lost all patience.

You whimper, fingers twisting in his hair as he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, your throat, sucking at your pulse just to hear you gasp.

“Eren—”

“Shhh, baby,” he murmurs, voice husky as he nips at your collarbone. “I got you.”

His hands slip under your shirt, pushing it up, his thumbs brushing over your heated skin. He pulls back just enough to yank it over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room before his mouth is on you again—hot, wet kisses trailing lower, lower.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he mutters, his breath fanning over your stomach. “So fucking perfect for me.”

You arch into him as his fingers slide under the waistband of your shorts, playing with the elastic. He looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, his smirk downright sinful.

“Tell me how bad you want me,” he teases, voice dripping with arrogance.

You bite your lip, your body screaming for him. “Eren, please.”

His smirk grows. “That’s my girl.”

He tugs your shorts down in one swift motion, leaving you bare beneath him. His eyes darken, his tongue swiping over his lips as he takes you in.

“Fuck,” he groans, gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. “Been dreaming about this.”

Your breath hitches as he kisses the inside of your thigh, his hands gripping your legs like he never wants to let go.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” he murmurs, teasingly slow, lips ghosting over where you need him most.

You nod frantically, hands reaching for him, but he only chuckles. “Use your words.”

“Eren, please,” you gasp, squirming under his touch.

He grins against your skin.

Eren groans, low and deep, like he’s barely holding himself together. His hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into your skin as he spreads you wider beneath him, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot.

"Fuck," he rasps, voice rough with need. "You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this."

His lips skim over the inside of your thigh, slow, teasing, his tongue flicking on your clit just to feel you shudder. He smirks against your skin, eyes dark as he watches you squirm.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with hunger. "Already dripping for me. So fucking perfect, baby."

You whimper, arching toward him, but he just chuckles, gripping your hips to hold you down. "Patience, sweetheart," he taunts, pressing a lingering kiss right where you need him most—just barely, just enough to make you gasp.

"Eren," you plead, voice breathless, fingers threading into his hair to tug him closer.

He groans at that, his control slipping. "Shit, you’re gonna fucking ruin me."

Then he’s on you—hot, relentless, devouring you like he’s been starving for this moment. His tongue flicks, his lips suck, his grip tightens as he pulls you closer, deeper, like he wants to drown in you.

Your back arches, a cry spilling from your lips, and Eren growls in satisfaction. "That’s it, baby. Let me hear you," he rasps against your skin, his pace ruthless now.

You’re already trembling, teetering on the edge, and he knows it. He feels it. He fucking loves it.

"Come on, pretty girl," he coaxes, voice rough, hands gripping you even tighter. "Give it to me. Let me taste you fall apart."

Eren is relentless. His grip on your thighs is bruising, his fingers digging into your skin like he’s trying to claim every inch of you. His tongue flicks, slow and deliberate, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive spot just to suck—hard.

Your body jolts, a sharp gasp escaping before you can stop it, and Eren groans at the sound like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. "Fuck, baby," he rasps, his voice muffled against you. "You taste so fucking good."

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. His tongue moves with precision, stroking, circling, teasing, while his hands keep you pinned, leaving you completely at his mercy.

You squirm, panting, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him closer. He groans at that, the vibration of it sending shockwaves straight through you.

"Eren—oh my god—"

He chuckles darkly, lifting his head just enough to meet your dazed, desperate eyes. His lips are glistening, his pupils blown wide with hunger. "That’s right, baby," he murmurs, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip. "Say my fucking name."

Then his fingers join the mix—two of them sliding inside, slow, stretching you, curling just right as his mouth latches onto you again. The combination is devastating. Mind-numbing.

Your back arches, a broken moan spilling from your lips as pleasure crashes over you, and Eren growls in satisfaction, his grip tightening, his pace ruthless.

"That’s it, sweetheart," he groans, his fingers curling deeper, his mouth working you over mercilessly. "Let me feel you come for me."

You shatter. Your whole body tenses, thighs trembling around his head as the pleasure rips through you, wave after wave. Eren doesn’t let up—he keeps going, dragging you through it, devouring every second of your undoing like he lives for this.

When you finally slump against the bed, boneless, breathless, he presses one last kiss to your sensitive skin before making his way up your body—hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing up your stomach, your ribs, your throat.

By the time he reaches your lips, he’s grinning, cocky and devastating. "You’re so fucking pretty when you come," he murmurs, dragging his thumb over your swollen lips.

Then he kisses you—deep, slow, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His hips press against yours, hard and insistent, reminding you just how much he needs you.

Eren doesn’t give you a second to recover. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, trailing up your stomach, pressing into your thighs like he owns you. His mouth is back on yours, hot and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes you whimper.

"Fuck," he groans, grinding against you, making sure you feel how hard he is. "You feel that, baby? This is what you do to me."

His hands slip beneath you, gripping your ass, pulling you against him harder, and you can feel him, thick and throbbing, pressing against your slick heat through his sweats. It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough.

"Eren," you gasp, your nails raking down his back, dragging over the firm muscles beneath his skin.

He growls at that, teeth grazing over your jaw, nipping at the sensitive spot beneath your ear. "You like driving me crazy, don’t you?" he mutters, voice rough, his breath hot against your skin. "You like knowing I can barely fucking think when I’m touching you?"

You moan, thighs squeezing around his waist, desperate for more friction, more him.

He smirks against your throat. "I can feel you dripping for me, baby. You want it that bad?"

"Yes," you whimper, back arching as he grinds against you again, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body. "Eren, please—"

"Shit, you sound so pretty when you beg," he groans, his lips dragging lower, lower, his teeth scraping over your collarbone before he sucks, leaving a mark—his mark. "Say it again."

You’re already dizzy with need, your fingers twisting in his hair as you pull him closer. "Please, Eren," you gasp. "I need you. Need all of you—"

His control snaps.

He sits up, yanking his hoodie over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. His eyes are dark, ravenous, as he watches you, chest heaving, lips swollen from his kisses.

"You’re gonna be the fucking death of me," he mutters, his hands hooking into the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down.

And then he’s there, bare and thick and aching for you, his cock standing proud against his stomach. Your breath catches because fuck, he’s big—so big it has your thighs squeezing together in anticipation.

Eren sees it. Loves it. His smirk turns wicked, one hand stroking himself as he watches you with those heavy-lidded, lust-filled eyes.

"What’s wrong, sweetheart?" he teases, voice dripping with arrogance. "You think you can take me?"

You swallow hard, your whole body burning. "I—I want to."

That does it.

"Fuck," he growls, surging forward, caging you beneath him again. His lips crash against yours, desperate, hungry, his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing, taunting. "I got you, baby. I’ll make it fit."

His fingers trail down, teasing your slit, groaning at how soaked you are for him. "So fucking wet," he mutters. "All for me."

Then, without warning, he thrusts—slow, deep, stretching you open inch by inch. A strangled moan rips from your throat, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fills you completely.

"Fuck," he grits out, his forehead dropping against yours, his breath ragged. "You feel so fucking good, baby. So tight, so perfect for me."

You’re gasping, legs wrapping around him, overwhelmed by the way he stretches you, the way he owns you.

Eren groans, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls back before slamming into you again, his jaw clenched, his control fraying. "Oh, baby," he pants, setting a deep, punishing pace. "You’re gonna fucking ruin me."

Eren is gone. Completely wrecked, consumed, feral. His grip on your hips is bruising, his thrusts deep and devastating, like he’s trying to carve himself into you, like he wants to ruin you for anyone else.

"You feel that, baby?" he growls, his voice all grit and desperation. His forehead presses against yours, his breath ragged as he drives into you, hitting just right, making you gasp. "Feel how good you take me? Fuck—you were made for me."

Your nails scrape down his back, leaving red-hot lines in their wake, and Eren groans, his pace stuttering for a second.

"Shit," he pants, his hands sliding down your body, grabbing at your thighs, pulling them higher around his waist. "You’re so fucking tight—so perfect, baby. Squeezing me so good."

You can’t even speak, can’t do anything but take it, your body trembling beneath him as pleasure builds like a wildfire. Every drag of his cock against your walls, every filthy, desperate moan that spills from his lips, sends you spiraling higher.

And he knows it.

Eren watches you with hooded eyes, his expression downright sinful as he slows just to tease, rolling his hips in deep, controlled thrusts that have your back arching off the bed.

"You gonna come for me, sweetheart?" he murmurs, dragging his tongue over your throat, biting down just enough to make you cry out. "I can feel it. You’re so fucking close."

You are. Your entire body is burning, your muscles tensing, the pressure coiling tighter, tighter—

"Come on, baby," he coaxes, one hand slipping between you, his fingers finding your clit, circling it in slow, teasing strokes that have you whimpering. "Give it to me. Let me feel you."

And that’s it. The pleasure snaps, crashing over you in a blinding, breathless wave. Your body convulses, your back bowing, your walls pulsing around him as you shatter with a strangled moan of his name.

Eren loses it.

"Fuck, that’s it, baby," he groans, his pace turning desperate, sloppy, chasing his own high. "Shit—gonna fill you up—fuck—"

With one last, deep thrust, he breaks, his body tensing as he spills inside you, groaning your name like a fucking prayer. His grip on you is tight, like he never wants to let go, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he rides out his release.

For a moment, all you can do is breathe, tangled together, your bodies slick with sweat, the air thick with heat and satisfaction.

Then Eren lifts his head, a lazy, cocky smirk curving his lips as he brushes a damp strand of hair from your face.

"You okay, baby?" he murmurs, his voice low, teasing. "Did I fuck you stupid?"

You glare at him—weakly, still dazed—and he grins, chuckling as he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your swollen lips.

"That was just the first round, sweetheart," he murmurs against your mouth, his fingers already trailing down your body again.

"You did say you needed more, didn’t you?"

Eren doesn’t even let you breathe. He’s still inside you, still hard, still fucking hungry, and from the way his hands are already trailing lower, gripping your thighs like he owns you, you know he’s not done.

Not even close.

"You thought I was finished with you?" he taunts, voice thick, teasing, dripping with arrogance. He rolls his hips—slow, deep—making you whimper at the overstimulation, and fuck, his smirk is wicked.

"You can take it, can’t you, baby?" he murmurs, fingers tracing over your swollen, sensitive clit just to tease. "Be my good girl and let me ruin you."

You’re still shaking from your last orgasm, body sensitive, nerves on fire, but that only makes it better. Your head lolls back, a needy whine slipping from your lips, and Eren grins.

"That’s what I fucking thought."

Before you can respond, he moves. Fast. Suddenly, you’re flipped onto your stomach, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you onto your knees. His chest is warm, burning against your back as he leans down, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

"You’re so fucking pretty like this," he groans, his cock pressing against your soaked folds, sliding through your slick without pushing in. Teasing. Torturing. "All spread out for me. Ready to be fucked proper."

You’re desperate. Arching your back, pressing against him, trying to push yourself onto his cock, but he just laughs.

"Needy little thing," he coos, one hand wrapping around your throat, pulling you back against his chest. His other hand dips between your legs, fingers sliding through your wetness, making you tremble.

"You want it that bad, huh?" he murmurs, pressing a soft, almost mocking kiss to your temple. His fingers glide up, circling your clit, barely touching—just enough to make you squirm.

"Eren, please," you whimper, your voice already wrecked.

He groans at that, his grip tightening. "Fuck, baby," he breathes. "I love when you beg."

Then, without warning, he slams into you.

A guttural moan rips from your throat as he bottoms out in one thrust, stretching you all over again. His grip on your throat tightens, his breath hot against your ear.

"You feel that, baby?" he growls. "Feel how deep I am?"

You can barely think. Your fingers claw at the sheets, your body arching, completely at his mercy.

Eren loves it. Loses himself in it. He pulls back and thrusts again—hard, deep, his pace brutal. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, filthy, obscene, mixed with his low groans and your desperate, broken moans.

"You’re taking me so fucking well," he grits out, his hand sliding from your throat down to your mouth. His fingers press against your lips, and when you gasp, he shoves them inside.

"Suck," he commands, voice raw, and fuck, you do—hollowing your cheeks, moaning around his fingers as he fucks into you even harder.

His growl is pure filth.

"Shit, you’re so fucking nasty," he groans, his other hand coming down on your ass—hard. You gasp, the sting of it making you clench around him, and Eren loses it.

"Oh, you like that, huh?" he taunts, his pace somehow turning even more devastating. "Like being fucked like a little slut?"

You whimper, drool slipping down your chin, body shaking as pleasure builds like a fucking storm.

"You gonna come for me again, baby?" he pants, yanking his fingers from your mouth, trailing them down between your legs. He finds your clit and rubs in tight, fast circles, making you wail.

"You’re so fucking close, aren’t you?" he growls. "Come on, baby. Make a mess all over my cock."

And then you snap.

Your vision blurs, your body convulsing as a scream rips from your throat. You come so hard it nearly knocks you flat, your walls pulsing around him, milking his cock, dragging him to his own breaking point.

"Fuck," he snarls, his thrusts turning sloppy, desperate. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Then he shatters, his entire body tensing as he spills inside you, filling you up with a guttural moan of your name. His grip on your waist is bruising, his body collapsing against yours as he grinds his hips, riding out every last pulse of pleasure.

For a moment, neither of you can move. You’re both wrecked, sweaty, panting, tangled together in the best possible way.

Then Eren chuckles—low, breathless, still cocky as hell.

"Holy shit," he pants, pressing lazy kisses to your spine.

Your whole body is shaking, skin burning, sweat dripping—but Eren? That man is insatiable.

You barely have time to catch your breath before he’s moving again, hands gripping your hips hard, pulling you up onto all fours. You let out a weak, breathless moan, and he grins—that wicked, cocky, downright sinful grin.

"Aww, what’s wrong, baby?" he coos, teasing, breath hot against your ear. "Too much for you?"

You don’t even get a chance to answer before he spanks you—hard—his palm coming down on your ass with a sharp crack, making you jolt.

Your gasp turns into a moan, and Eren laughs, the sound deep and filthy.

"Ohhh, you like that, don’t you?" he taunts, rubbing over the stinging skin, his voice dripping with amusement. "Such a dirty little thing. Getting all wet just from being put in your place."

You whimper, back arching, needing more.

"Use your words," he warns, fingers teasing at your entrance, rubbing through your slick but not giving you what you want.

"Eren, please," you gasp, pushing back against him, desperate, needy. "I want you."

"Yeah?" he breathes, leaning down, his teeth grazing your shoulder. "Want me to fuck you stupid again?"

"Yes—yes, please," you beg, voice wrecked, trembling beneath him.

He groans, dragging his cock through your wetness, teasing, taunting, making you squirm.

"Since you asked so nicely," he mutters.

And then he slams into you.

A wail rips from your throat as he fills you to the hilt, stretching you open all over again. Eren grunts, gripping your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises tomorrow—but you don’t care.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, pulling back just to thrust into you again, setting a brutal pace. "You love this, don’t you? Getting fucked like a little whore?"

You can’t even answer—can barely breathe. Your fingers claw at the sheets, your mouth open in a silent moan as he wrecks you.

Eren notices.

He laughs, breathless and cocky, and suddenly, his fingers are tangling in your hair, yanking your head back so your back arches perfectly for him.

"Aww, is it too much?" he teases, his voice mocking, his pace relentless. "Look at you, baby—drooling for me, fucking shaking, taking every inch like a good little slut."

You whimper, body trembling, completely at his mercy.

"Say it," he growls, snapping his hips so deep you swear you see stars. "Say you’re my little slut."

"I—I’m your little slut," you gasp, the words wrecked, choked.

"Fuck," he groans, his cock twitching inside you. "Good fucking girl."

Then he’s really losing control. His hand slips between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight, brutal circles that have you screaming.

"You gonna come for me again, baby?" he taunts, his breath hot against your ear. "Gonna make a fucking mess all over my cock?"

You can’t stop it. The pleasure crashes over you, tearing you apart, your body convulsing, your walls pulsing so tight around him that he growls.

"Shit," he grits out, his pace turning desperate, erratic, wrecked. "Gonna fucking fill you up, baby—fuck—"

With a deep, guttural groan, he snaps, his body tensing as he spills inside you, hips jerking, grinding, making sure you take every drop.

For a moment, all you can do is breathe, both of you shaking, panting, wrecked.

Then Eren chuckles, low and teasing, pressing a lazy, cocky kiss to your shoulder.

Your whole body is spent, muscles trembling, skin hot and slick with sweat. The air is thick, the room still humming with the aftershocks of what just happened, but before you can even think about moving, Eren is already on you.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, and the second your body melts into his, he lets out the softest sigh. His lips press lazy, feather-light kisses to your shoulder, up your neck, across your jaw—slow, tender, like he’s savoring you.

"You okay, baby?" he murmurs, voice low, husky, but gentle now. The contrast from the way he was just wrecking you makes your heart ache in the best way.

You hum, still a little dazed, nuzzling into his chest. "Mmmhmm."

He chuckles, all warm and fond, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "That’s not a real answer," he teases, fingers tracing lazy circles over your spine.

You smile sleepily, turning your face up toward him. "I’m good," you mumble, voice soft, satisfied. "So good."

Eren grins, his hand sliding down to your thigh, kneading it gently, soothing over the marks his fingers left behind. "You sure? You need anything?"

You shake your head, completely content, but that doesn’t stop him from fussing over you. He shifts, reaching for something—his discarded shirt—before gently wiping you down, murmuring little praises under his breath.

"So fucking perfect," he whispers, pressing another soft kiss to your shoulder. "So good for me."

When he’s done, he tosses the shirt aside, pulling you right against his chest, wrapping you up in his arms like he never wants to let go.

“What’re you going to do about her?” Eren follows your gaze that’s on his phone with Mikasa’s name flashing on it. “I already told you what I’m gonna do. She’s nobody to me.” He whispers, his fingers running through your hair down to your back.

A small pause follows.

"Stay right here, baby," he murmurs, tucking your head under his chin, his fingers stroking slow, soothing patterns into your back.

You sigh, completely boneless, curling into him. "Not going anywhere," you mumble. "Ever."

Eren chuckles, the sound soft, sweet. "Good," he murmurs, tilting your chin up just to steal one more slow, sleepy kiss. "Mine."

#eren smut #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren aot #eren x reader #eren x you #aot smut #aot x you #aot x reader #tw cheating #tw angst #Fic: What Was Mine.#aot angst #eren angst #eren jeager x reader

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theemporium · 11 months ago

Text

[1.7k] they want to believe jack when he says he has a girlfriend. they really do. it's just kind of hard to do so when they never see her. or, in which everyone is worried jack has found himself in a parasocial relationship.

“Fuck.”

Jack raised his head, finding his attention drawn to his captain sitting on the aisle across from him on the bus. He watched as the man began patting himself down before he let out a sigh, standing up to reach for his bag on the overhead shelf. Yet, whatever he was trying to find was a fruitless endeavour as he settled back in his seat with a frown on his face.

“You good?”

“Hm,” Nico hummed, letting out another long breath as he leaned back in his seat. “Yeah, I just forgot my headphones.”

“Nico Hischier not being organised?” Jack teased, a smile growing on his face. “Someone alert the authorities.”

Nico huffed out a laugh. “Ha. Ha. Ha.”

“Just messin’ with you, cap,” Jack mused, deciding to be the better person and not point out the fact he could see Nico’s dimple even if the boy tried to act like he wasn’t laughing. “Here, I’ll share my music with you. Because I’m nice like that.”

The older boy raised his brows. “Your music for the full five hour drive?”

Jack raised his brows in return. “Do you have anything else better to do?”

“Fair enough,” Nico murmured before he reached over, taking the airpod and slipping it into his ear. “But I get to add some songs too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack waved him off before handing over his phone. “Maybe try more English rap songs so I can understand them too, yeah?”

“Sure, because I’m nice like that,” Nico said with a grin before he turned to shift his attention to Jack’s phone. He clicked on the queue, his brows furrowing slightly when he saw the songs lined up. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Nico murmured. “I just thought you were a country music kind of guy. Never thought you’d be into the rock scene.”

Jack’s cheeks burned as he let out a slightly strained laugh. “I was, uh, broadening my horizons.”

Nico turned to look at him. “So you chose one band? You know, I know a couple of bands if you want them—”

“I’m fine with that band,” Jack said, flashing his captain a smile.

“You’ve liked every one of their songs.”

“Mhm.”

“So, you know you like the genre, at least. Maybe you should try—”

“I’m good.”

“Jack—”

“Start queuing songs before I take my phone back, Hisch.”

Nico stared at him for a few moments, noting the way he fidgeted in his seat with his cheeks flushed far brighter than they should be with the bus AC blasting. But, Nico decided he would be nice this time around and not bring it up.

Not yet, at least.

Plus the band Jack had chosen was pretty good, if he did say so himself.

...

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...

“What are you giggling at?”

“I’m not giggling at anything.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You literally giggled as you said that.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Unfortunately for Luke, this had been a recurring conversation over the last few weeks because, despite what he said, Jack spent the better part of his free time giggling at his phone. It was sickening and annoying and Luke was so done with trying to scroll through TikTok with his brother snickering like some teenage girl in the background.

It was starting to grate on his last nerve.

“You’re so full of shit,” Luke grumbled as he shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, narrowing his eyes on his big brother from over the kitchen counter.

“Maybe you should find someone to text and stop bothering me,” Jack retorted, the words slipping past his lips so casually, almost like he hadn’t realised what he said.

But Luke heard loud and clear.

He straightened up in his seat, his annoyance now replaced with curiosity and he flashed his brother an inquisitive look. “Who are you messaging that has you giggling?”

“I am not giggling,” Jack huffed out before he lifted his head, finally looking away from his phone screen to catch his brother’s gaze. “And, for your information, I am texting my girlfriend.”

A few moments of silence passed as both boys stared at each other.

Luke blinked. “When the fuck did you get a girlfriend?”

“It’s new,” Jack said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “How new?”

“Just a couple of months or so,” Jack murmured, at least having the guts to look a little sheepish as a light blush spread across his cheeks.

“Months?!” Luke repeated with a scoff, the bowl of cereal he was snacking on now long forgotten. “How come this is the first time I’m hearing of it?”

“We are keeping things private!” Jack defended.

“I’m your brother!” Luke retorted. “You’re meant to tell me shit. I’d tell you if I had a girlfriend! Quinn would tell me if he had a girlfriend!”

“But neither of you do,” he snapped back with a shit-eating grin.

“And you supposedly do,” Luke muttered, shaking his head. “What’s her name?”

“That’s not important.”

Luke blinked. “Uh, yeah, dude, I think it is.”

Jack shrugged again. “Maybe I don’t want you to know.”

“Why not?” Luke questioned, watching his brother just shrug again—not that he was getting fucking sick of that or anything—before he glared. “Is it someone I know?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re being ridiculously vague right now and it’s annoying as fuck,” Luke told him.

Jack’s grin widened. “I know!”

“Fine, keep your stupid secrets,” Luke grumbled as he reached for his spoon again, rolling his eyes when he heard Jack laughing. “Like I fucking care anyways.”

But he did.

He really fucking did and he would find out who this secret girlfriend was if it’s the last thing he did.

...

liked by jackhughes and 213,839 others

yourusername las vegas, you ALWAYS make me feel at home❤️🖤

view 12,930 comments

user MOTHER!!!

user hot AND talented. your fav could never

user new music when!!!

user THE SHIRT-

jackhughes ur so pretty😍😍😍

user not this guy again

user not a man

notzegrasipromise JACK???

...

“Yeah, I mean, I love my parents but I wish my girlfriend could’ve made it out. It would have been nice to have her here for the family skate too.”

That was all it took for the hustling and bustling of the locker room to come to a screeching halt.

Jack frowned, his hands holding his jersey in his hand that he had just taken off as he glanced around the room. All of the boys were giving him different looks: some concerned, some amused, some confused. It was throwing him off.

“Uh, what?”

“You have a girlfriend?” It was Dawson who eventually asked, his brows furrowed together in questioning.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded, feeling an odd sense of deja vu from the conversation he had with Luke a few weeks ago. “Geez, I didn’t realise we had to announce stuff like this now.”

“I mean,” Jesper spoke up, shrugging his shoulders. “We’re close, yeah? We usually just tell each other these things. You’ve never mentioned her before.”

“Don’t bother asking for her name,” Luke grumbled from the other side of the locker room.

“She’s not coming to the family skate?” Nico questioned, focusing the attention back to Jack who simply shrugged.

“She travels a bunch for work,” Jack explained. “Or, at least, for right now. She’s out in Nashville right now so she couldn’t make it.”

“But I thought you were all over that rockstar girl,” Simon spoke up from his stall, leaning back against the cubby, half dressed and legs spread. “Every time I open Twitter, I see it.”

Jack’s cheeks burned.

Jesper gave him a disapproving look. “Don’t tell me you’ve been commenting on another girl’s instagram when you have a girlfriend. What does she think about it?”

“She likes them!” Jack defended.

Jesper frowned. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of desperate on instagram,” Simon continued with a snort.

“Well, she hasn’t told me to stop,” Jack huffed.

“Yes, because a rockstar with a couple of million followers would personally reach out to stop you,” Luke drawled, a heavy layer of sarcasm dripping from his words.

“She would, considering she is my girlfriend.”

Once again, the locker room fell silent.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” Luke eventually spoke up, shaking his head. “You really think we believe that you pulled her?”

Jack frowned. “What’s so hard to believe about that?”

“She’s an international rockstar and you’re just a dude who plays hockey,” Luke retorted.

“So are you!”

“Yeah, and I’m not sitting here trying to tell people I’m dating Taylor Swift, am I?”

“This is different,” Jack huffed before looking around the room. “I’m dating her! I really am! We met at that rock bar in Jersey City a couple of months ago and we’ve been chatting ever since.”

The boys all gave each other various looks.

“Fine, don’t believe,” Jack grumbled as he leaned down to start untying his skates. “I know I’m telling the truth. It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.”

For the record, only Jim and Ellen Hughes showed up to the New Jersey Devils’ family skate.

...

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yourusername east coast, we are coming for you!!❤️🖤

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user i cannot believe the tour is almost over

user NEW MUSIC WHEN

user i'm seeing you in eight days!!!!

user oh my god she is so hot

jackhughes coming back to the better coast❤️🖤

user omg he is copying the hearts too

user he is delusional

user it is the devils colours

user you sound just as delusional as him

...

“So, I’ve been talking to Luke.”

“Oh great,” Jack grumbled as he sunk further into the pillows of the living room couch.

“And I went on Twitter.”

“You must have been pretty bored to redownload it,” Jack commented, suddenly finding interest in the strings of his hoodie, instead of his brother’s face on the phone screen. He should have known it was odd when Quinn messaged to check he was home alone before he called.

“Jack.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jack whined as he tried to hide himself deeper into his hoodie. “Whatever Luke told you is bullshit.”

“So you’re not telling people you’re dating an international rock sensation?”

“Well, I’m not telling everyone,” Jack corrected. “But I am dating her!”

“Uh huh.”

“Not you too,” Jack groaned, throwing his head back and finding his gaze locked on some random part of the ceiling. “Quinn, why would I lie about this?”

“Because you took a rough hit to the head.”

His head quickly snapped down to glare at his older brother who had the audacity to smirk in response.

“We’re just worried, Jack. You don’t mention a single thing about talking to her. Then you’re showing up in her comments. And then you’re claiming to date her. All whilst playing and training like normal.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine if you have a little crush or something but—”

“She isn’t just a crush, she’s my girlfriend,” Jack repeated for the umpteenth time. “You’ll see soon.”

Quinn didn’t look awfully convinced but he knew better than to push Jack on the matter any further. He instead shifted the conversation to a power play from the game before and, thankfully, Jack took the bait. In fact, he was far too busy rambling to even notice Quinn typing out a message straight to Luke.

quinnifer: ur right

quinnifer: he’s a fucking lost cause

...

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yourusername tour was a dream but happy to finally come home to you jackhughes ❤️🖤

view all 37,373 comments

jackhughes glad to have my girl home❤️🖤

user WHAT

user a hard launch post tour??? oh she is sick

user i can't believe we lost her to a man

user IS THIS NOT THE HOCKEY DUDE

user omg he actually stood a chance

trevorzegras WHAT THE FUCK

trevorzegras WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

user omg one sings rock and the other plays at the rock

user IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE STARS

lhughes_06 holy shit

_quinnhughes didn't see that one coming

trevorzegras HOW WHAT WHEN WHERE WHY

user i think hockey dude broke his hockey friend

jackhughes he will be fine

trevorzegras NO HE WILL NOT BE FINE

trevorzegras ANSWER YOUR PHONE ROWDY

jackhughes leave me alone, i'm trying to spend time with my girlfriend

yourusername it's true :) very little clothes included

trevorzegras i'm going to go throw myself off a cliff

user what the fuck did i just wake up to

#jack hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes fic #jack hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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maybanksprincess · 3 months ago

Text

sexual rhythm

WARNINGS: smut, protected p in v, awkward for a lil minute, pet names, fluff, slight age gap, allusions to aftercare, transitions into rougher sex after a while.

lias note — finally proofread, this is requested by one of my fav mooties, @jjmaybankssurfergf , thank you for the request baby! (lowkey feel like i did this wrong).

pairings: rudy pankow x fem!reader

you can hear the faint sound of the lock clicking on Rudy's bedroom door, as you lay on your back half naked on his bed. he towers over you with a nervous expression plastered on his face. he'd finally got you alone with no interruptions in his shared apartment.

he grabs a condom from his nightstand and tears it open with his teeth, sliding it onto his erect length. you can feel his eyes on you, the tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. he clears his throat, and breaks the silence.

"you ready?" he asks, securing the condom, his eyes staring down at you for any hint of discomfort or wariness.

"yeah," you answer, taking a deep breath in, preparing for whats about to come. you both tried having sex before, but it ended up being awkward and feeling uncomfortable due to the lack of communication.

he walks over to his speaker and turns his rock music down on low, making sure it wasn't too loud, and was only background noise. he then hovers over you again, grabbing his cock and pumping it a few times, sliding it between your wet folds, testing the waters.

"Does this feel good?" he asks softly, his soft blue eyes staring down at you, slowly pushing his tip in your hole to see if you pull away. when you nod in approval, he slowly pushes his whole cock in, making sure to be as gentle as possible.

a slight groan is heard from him over the low rock music on his speaker as he buries himself to the hilt, his balls gently tapping your ass in the process.

he slowly rolls his hips into yours, thrusting gently into your wet heat, leaning down to kiss and nip at your neck, leaving soft love bites. after a few thrusts, he lifts his head from your neck to look down at you, seeing your face twisted in pure ecstasy.

"Does that feel okay, baby?" he asks, taking one of his hands away from the side of your head to gently run his hand along your cheek, checking to see if you're uncomfortable.

"yeah," you moan, "feels really good, rudy." you whimper out, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at his cock sliding in and out of your sopping heat, the bedsheets having a small stain beneath the two of you.

"can you go faster?" you ask, shuffling to lay flat on your back again. he nods, his blonde locks falling into his eyes, you bring a hand up to brush them out of the way, looking into his pretty blue eyes.

you can feel him start to speed up, his hips rocking faster against yours, his breathing growing heavier as he fucks you into the mattress of his bed. a small bead of sweat starts to form on his forehead, as he starts to fuck you rough, the headboard hitting the wall with every lewd thrust. thank God chase isn't home.

The bed squeaks as he starts to fuck you deeper, it felt like you were being split in half with the way he was ramming into you, his balls slapping your ass cheeks with every snap of his hips. your nails start clawing at his chest, all his muscles flexing while he pounds into you.

he uses one strong hand to grab your jaw, messily kissing you, his tongue immediately slipping into your mouth with ease, he swallows all your moans as his tongue evades your mouth, tasting you all over. he softly bites your lip before mumbling against your lips, "best pussy i ever had mama, who does this pretty pussy belong to?"

"y-you rudy," you squeak against his warm mouth, moaning and babbling as his cock hits that sweet spot inside you over and over and over again.

he brings his hand that was holding your jaw, down to your cunt, rubbing his thumb over your sensitive clit, moving it in tight circles. "cum on my cock, beautiful." he groans, his own orgasm not far behind.

he can feel your walls tighten around him, your warm walls squeezing him in. "fuck mama, you're so tight" he groans, throwing his head back, revealing his unmarked neck, his adams apple bobbing as he shoots his hot cum into the condom.

you both lay there for a few moments, before he breaks the comfortable silence. "was that good? not too much?" he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.

you gently kiss his cheek, letting out a soft giggle, "it was perfect, baby." you say, intertwining your fingers with his.

he chuckles along with you, pressing a kiss to your forehead in return. he scoops you up in his muscular arms, walking to the bathroom and setting you down on the counter, pressing soft kisses to your lips. " i love you, pretty girl." he mumbles in between smooches.

"i love you too rudy."

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj maybank smut #imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #obx fic #fluff #rudy pankow fic #rudy pankow obx #rudy pankow fanfiction #rudy pankow smut #rudy pankow #rudy pankow gifs #rudy pankow masterlist #rudy pankow blurb #rudy pankow drabble #rafe cameron

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importantstudentbusinessspy-blog · 6 months ago

Text

Heirs

Pairing: Robb Stark x Baratheon/Lannister reader

Tags: NSFW, Arranged marriage, Robb is a bad boy in this one, corruption, innocent reader, first time, angst,

CH. 2 - He was the center of attention. The day's champion archer was charming the girls with his stories and teasing them with flirtatious gestures. Your blood started to boil as you watched him, oblivious to the fact that he was doing this just to taunt you.

Chapter tags: fingering, semi-public fingering, voyeurism, corruption kink,

The music from the instruments was loud, and the atmosphere in the tent was filled with excitement, but you sat in your spot, glaring.

You didn't care that you were the only one. It wasn't fair. In Westeros culture, men were not expected to remain virgins until marriage. Robb took great pleasure in this fact.

You tried to focus on the conversation your ladies were having around you, but your eyes kept drifting towards him across the room, surrounded by girls from all over the country.

He was the center of attention. The day's champion archer was charming the girls with his stories and teasing them with flirtatious gestures. Your blood started to boil as you watched him, oblivious to the fact that he was doing this just to taunt you.

One Northern girl boldly kissed Robb, baring her sharp canines while he laughed into her lips as another girl ran her arms around his barely covered torso. He turned and gave you a sly wink, running his tongue across his own sharp canine teeth, knowing that it would only infuriate you more. And it did.

From his point of view, the delicate princess sat wide-eyed, chest rising in her expensive dress as she inhaled and exhaled harshly through her flared nostrils. So responsive.

Robb enjoyed provoking you - he didn't know why yet. Perhaps he was doing it to see how you would react, testing your feelings for him, or because he was unsure how to express his growing attraction. When he winked at you, it was not just to anger you—he wanted to see you break your perfect demeanor, to understand if this was just duty for you or if you had feelings for him.

Your mother taught you that wives must be composed, no matter how foolish their husband's behaved and how their behavior humiliated them. She would glance at your father on occasion, chin up and confident pose, while her eyes betrayed the anger she felt. You now understood the patience your mother exercised as you were experiencing the same thing with the Stark Prince. Jealousy made you realize your feelings for Robb, despite his behavior. You were torn between your upbringing as a lady and your raw emotions when it came to him.

As the night progressed, Robb kept up his game. You had had enough. Jealousy rendering you unnable to look anymore.

You released a grumble of frustration before getting up, lifting your skirts in a less than ladylike fashion and storming out of the tent, leaving your friends behind calling your name in confusion.

The cool night air hit your face as you took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. Disregarding your safety, you wandered through the beach grounds, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You couldn't understand why Robb insisted on playing mind games with you.

It was just the second time you two had crossed paths, yet he somehow made you feel inferior.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♠︎♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

The previous morning

Robb Stark arrived in King’s Landing with a small Northern contingent for the summer tourney. You were seeing him for the first time in years, and it was immediately clear how much he’s grown—his transformation from the boy you once knew to the formidable man standing before you now. His physical growth and his commanding presence were evident.

You stood alongside your mother and siblings as he walked into the great hall alongside his bastard brother, Jon. The two were close in age, and both had formidable height and posture, that of trained soldiers. Jon seemed calmer than Robb, more inspective of his surroundings, while his older brother took confident strides.

Robb wore a leather jerkin, the dark material molding to his broad chest and wide shoulders, accentuating his muscular frame. Beneath it, a simple linen shirt was tucked into his trousers, and the sleeves rolled to his elbows to combat the heat, revealing strong, veiny forearms. A leather belt rested at his waist, bearing the Stark sigil and his sword at its sheath.

As you stood with the ladies of the court, their laughter and hushed conversations filled the air. Your attention was briefly stolen by the sight of Robb Stark entering the courtyard, his presence commanding the space effortlessly. The women around you fell silent for a moment before erupting into a flurry of excited whispers.

"Gods, look at him," one sighed.

"Have you seen those arms?" Another chimed in, leaning in to get a better view.

The first giggled, her gaze never leaving Robb as he moved through the courtyard and kneeled in front of the king. "He’s nothing like the men of the south... I wouldn’t mind being captured by a man like that."

You weren't sure if you wanted to agree or roll your eyes.

"Do get up, boy." Robert Baratheon drunkenly grinned at the young wolf. "Your father is like a brother to me, I dont need his eldest kissing my arse."

Robb stood up, offering a respectful nod. "As you say, your highness."

"You cheeky..." Your father shook his head, grasping Robb by his shoulders and laughing how he's changed since he was a boy. The two exchanged a few words about the Starks, including messages from Ned.

Then they both turned to look at you.

You felt your heart skip a beat. Those grey eyes, which you recalled as teasing, were now alight with something else as they roamed over your figure. Robb briefly glanced to your side where your personal guard stood. His eyes narrowed on him before blinking back to you.

You hoped to impress him with your wardrobe. Your gown was a rich velvet, dyed deep red. It clung to your frame in a way that accentuated your curves. The fabric cascaded softly around your hips and flared slightly at the hem, skirts flowing elegantly around your legs.

Your hair was woven with gold thread, pinned up in a way that highlighted your cheekbones and neck, a delicate chain with a small ruby resting against your chest, his eyes zeroed in on it.

Robb turned to say another word to the King, and you watched your father nod before dismissing the young man. Conversations arose in the court as your betrothed approached you.

"Princess," Robb offered a warm smile, bowing respectfully. "How lovely you've become."

"Thank you, Lord Stark," You offered a bow in return, hoping he didn't hear the gasp in your voice.

He regarded you with admiration, his eyes glancing condescendingly at your guard before falling back on you. He leaned down to wisper in your ear. "May I have a moment with you? Alone."

His lips skimmed the skin of your ear, his breath tickling your skin. You shuddered. You overheard your ladies giggle behind you as you nodded, straightening up and collecting yourself.

He held his hand for you to take, then walked you out of the room, Ser Oliver and Jon followed close behind.

You and Robb had a pleasant conversation about your time apart. Speaking about his training and your studies. He listened patiently as you spoke about the health properties of herbs and plants, grey eyes gazing intently as you passionately discussed your favorite topics.

At last, you guessed you've spoken long enough, asking him to tell you how his sisters were doing.

He chuckled, his eyes creasing. "At each other's throats. It can be quite amusing so long as you're not in the line of fire."

You nodded. "And your brothers?"

He turned back to Jon. "They like to watch as Jon and I spar and offer useless advice."

That image made you laugh. You've always wanted a big family to watch your kids grow to be friends as you saw the Stark children did.

Your eyes switched back to him, landing on his lips, full and framed by recently shaven stubble. You caught yourself staring, opened your mouth to respond when a young voice called out your name-

"Y/n!"

You turned in the direction where your sister, Myrcella called, running up to the two of you to grasp and pull at your skirt. "Sister! He's hurting the frogs again!"

You blinked, trying your best to understand what she was talking about.

"Joffrey!" Your youngest brother, Tommen, ran up to stand alongside his sister and pull you by your hand. "We were playing with them, and he started kicking them! You must help."

Robb saw you sigh and shut your eyes like this was not the first time. He turned back to exchange a look with Jon, who shrugged in turn.

You let them pull you, turning to offer Robb an apology. "Apologies, my lord. This will just be a moment."

"Take your time, princess. I do hope the frogs are alright." The corner of his mouth raised slightly when he said it.

So, Robb considered, this is what you were up to all day, mending small animals and nannying your siblings.

Jon walked to stand alongside his brother, watching you rush into the garden to stop Joffrey from crushing a frong with a rock, scolding him while carefully taking the injured animal in your hands. "Must you always hurt the poor animals, Joff?"

Joffrey gave you an ugly glare and spat, "Why do you care? You're going to be Stark's pet soon enough, anyway."

Myrcella gasped. Tommen stared between you and Joffrey awkwardly.

Both Robb and Jon both froze, exchanging a look of disbelief at the young boy's cruelty to his own sister. Even Arya never spoke this way to Sansa.

Despite Joffrey’s words, you remained calm toward him, shielding Tommen and Myrcella from his sneers. "This is not how a future king behaves, Joff. Very poor manners, especially in front of guests."

Joffrey rolled his eyes. "A king behaves however he wants."

You opened your mouth to speak again, but he got up and walked away. Your shoulders dropped with a huff of frustration.

"Can you treat it?" Tommen spoke. You followed his gaze down to the frog in your hand. The poor animal had a cut along its limb.

"If you hold him, I can try my best." You smiled at your brother, taking your small sewing kit from your sleeve.

Over the years, you had gotten quite good. Practicing by sewing up Joffrey's scraped knees when he would fall. Tommen gently held the frog as you washed the wound with water, sewed it shut, and wrapped a small amount of gauze around it.

Jon and Robb observed from their distance.

"That's our future king..." Robb murmered quietly. "And my future brother."

Jon, being naturally perceptive, quietly pointed out to Robb. "At least her and her other siblings' kindness contrasts with his."

Robb grimaced still.

"I notice the way you glowered at her guard." Jon added before teasing him. "Perhaps your feelings for her are more complicated than just familial duty?"

"Perhaps you should..." Robb turned to sass him off, but Jon’s observation lingered on his mind. "Perhaps we should step away. This seems to be a family matter."

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♠︎♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Jon stood by Robb’s side, serving as support. He noticed Robb’s distracted, jealous glances toward the royal stands where you sat, observing the archers beside your guard, occasionally exchanging a few comments with the man.

Jon nudged Robb, “Could you be more obvious?"

Robb tore his gaze away from you. "Sorry."

"You’ve faced worse foes than a well-dressed guard.” Jon spoke, assessing the archers stance and technique.

Robb pulled at his bowstring, typing it to his bow while speaking, "You were always the cool-headed one," he spoke quietly. "Sometimes I envy your ability not to get so... emotional."

"It comes with the title." Jon offered, referring to his bastard blood.

"Stop it, Jon." Robb shook his head. "You know we dont think of you that way."

Jon nodded, not responding to Rob's obvious lie. "Don’t mess this up. You're the best shot in Winterfell, besides me, of course."

Robb snorted, lightly shoving his brother.

Jon continued. "This will be target practice for you. It's easier than half the game you bring back home."

"Sure," Robb wasn't concerned with the Archery contest. In the slightest.

And surely enough, you sat in the Royal stands, watching him best the other archers, hitting the center of the target from multiple distances to cheers from the crowd.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♠︎♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Present Time

You were hiding behind the flap of a tent, sneakily observing a knight kneeling in front of a courtesan from Essos.

He seemed to be kissing her sex. You were confused by the position. It defered from everything you'd learned about lovemaking. The women made sinful noises. You were curious as to why.

Your eyes narrowed. But surely that wasn't right.

"He's quite good." A male voice spoke close to you.

"Gods -" Gasping, you jumped at the sudden intrusion, turning to see Robb leaning beside you, hair disheveled and shirt undone at the top, a drunk bkush spread across his cheeks.

His words registering in your mind, you huffed. "As if you would know."

He chuckled, then took you by the arm and turning you to face him, your skirts swooshing between your legs as you came face to face with him, your lips a breath apart. Stormy eyes were focused on your lips with such intent that you found it hard to look. Visions of him embraced by the northern girls flooding your mind again. Your cheeks heated up so much that you had to back up away from him.

Only there was no room, and you were stuck between himself and one of the thick tent posts. The wooden surface hard against your back.

"Do I sense some hostility, princess?" He hummed.

She shushed him, whispering. "Be quiet. Let's go,"

"And miss the performance?"

"Robb!"

He laughed and let you slip under his arm to drag him away. By the time you had walked off into a more deserted area, you had reached the water's edge, away from the camp and the crowds. Your bodice clung to you as you took in much needed deep breaths to calm yourself.

"So," Robb cleared his throat behind you. "Are you gonna tell me what you were doing creeping up on the swordman coupling, princess?"

You screwd your eyes shut. "Dont you have two girls to get back to?" You tilted your head mockingly. "Or was it four?"

You heard a huff behind you. "Ah, so it did bother you." His lips were by your ear in instead to wisper. "Good."

"How much ale have you had?" You felt goosebumps running up your arm.

"Less than you think."

You rolled her eyes. "It would anger anyone."

He shook his head, his curls brushing against your locks. "It wouldn't anger an un-caring wife. I want my wife to be selfish over me."

Your breathes were speeding as his warm breath tickled your skin. His words tickled some other parts of you.

"So," he wispered. "Are you gonna tell me what you were you doing? Have you picked up an interest in the art of love-making?"

You chuckled. "If you can even call it that."

You felt his head tild behind you, as if confused. "You absolutely can."

You scoffed. "He wasn't even doing it right."

He chuckled, throwing her own words back at you, "As if you would know."

For some reason, that made you feel self-conscious, so you turned to glare at him.

He pursed his lips, throwing his hands up. "Apologies, princess. That was rude. What did he do wrong?"

You wrapped her arms around yourself. "He didn't even... he wasn't..."

He raised a brow, anticipating.

"Well," you insited, before finally, quietly saying. "... penetrate."

"Well. You can't simply begin from that." He said nonchalantly.

That made you pause. "What?"

"Princess," Robb grinned, bringing his hand to his temple as if rubbing at a headache.

You blushed, facing away from him. "You're laughing at me."

You couldnt see his eyes crease at the sides as he smiled down at your hair. "Darling, no."

"You are!" You turned back to him again, her skirts blowing with the small breaze, your eyes withholding tears. "I may not be experienced like you-" you pointed your finger at him. "-but I know enough! You can't have children by... through... what he was."

"You're right, you can't." He confirmed holding up his hands in surrender. "But who said children were the only outcome of sex?"

You remained quiet, now thoroughly confused.

"There is also pleasure." He hinted.

"Oh!" You nodded. "Well, sure, it can occur, but..."

"It must." He spoke like it was obvious. "You do know there are other ways to induce pleasure than mere penetration?" He asked.

You blinked at him.

A grin spread across his face, wolfish canines shines in the moonlight. "Oh, you're going to enjoy this study, princess."

Your mouth opened as if she wanted to say something but looked unsure.

"Trust me. The maesters won't-teach-you-this." He slurred slightly. "And if they do, that's bad. Then you have to tell me."

Curious eyes met confident grey ones, and you gave him a soft nod, taking his hand, letting him lead her down to an empty cove.

The two of you sat by the sand. At first, you took a seat side by side with him, but he pulled you to sit in front of him with you back to his chest. Never having been this close to someone of the opposite sex, you swallowed nervously.

"Breathe, princess. You're in good hands."

"The last time you said something like that, I fell out of consciousness."

"Well, this time don't. I'd hate for you to miss this." He ran his hands along the uncovered skin of your arms, you collarbone, shoulders, you skin tensing up everywhere he touched. "You shouldn't rush into things when giving pleasure."

You nodded. "Right,"

He leaned down and trailed, sticking kisses from your ear to your neck, sending a trail of goosebumps that made you gasp.

"There are other sensitive zones on your body, not just inside your cunt."

You nodded, your toes curling against the sand. "Okay,"

"Like your ears and neck," He spoke through kisses. His hands reached to her your bodice, unlacing the front exposing your breasts, giving your nipples light touches.

You gasped, arching your back against him. "Mhn,"

"Or your breasts," he continued to play with your hardened peaks, rolling and pinching them lightly. You closed her eyes, your hand eaching to grasp at the sand. His hand trailed down to your skirts, pulling them up to your waist and exposing you to the cool night air before palming your heat between your thighs.

You jumped at the feeling.

"Or this spot between your legs,"

"What is it?" You asked, voice trembling.

"It's your special spot," he replied, his fingers teasing you gently.

You couldn't hold back the whine that escaped as he continued to touch you just the right way. You had never experienced pleasure like this before, and it was intoxicating.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "you should explore your own body, princess. It's full of hidden treasure."

Your breaths quickened as he continued to rub you, faster, and faster. "I... oh-"

Unable to hold back any longer, your body tensed up and shook as you experienced the first orgasm you had ever felt. You were overcome with pleasure, and your body shook with the force of it. He pulled you by your hair, craning your neck towards himself, and kissed you roughly. You reciprocated the kiss with enthusiasm, still shaking as his hand teased you through your climax.

When you pulled apart, he was happy to see your eyes still glazed over.

Robb had struggled with his feelings for you, wondering if they might be desire, or duty, but he also questioned how much power he truly had over you.

Going from girl to girl in Winterfell was a norm, but something about you was not the same. He wanted to corrupt you, to introduce you to a world of pleasure that you had no idea existed. Hed wanted to be the first to deflower the heir to the throne. It had been a long time since he had felt this type of curiosity. The image of you writhing in pleasure, your body arching, and moans of his name filled his mind, making his eyes shut to take in the fantasy.

"Is it like this every time?" You wispered, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"It should be," he leaned down to nibble on your throat. This girl. He needed to see her come undone again.

"Princess!" A male voice called in the distance.

Robb cursed. That fucking guard...

"By the gods! What time is it?" You jumped up before rushing to lace your bodice and pat your skirts back into place, tidying up her hair. Robb leaned back on his arms and stared as you rushed off, his teeth grinding.

You hadn't even said anything. Just left as if you didn't just share an intimate moment together. He chuckled to himself, running his hand down his face and lying back against the sand.

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