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casiia · 5 months

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༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; his girls.

warnings .: female reader, the SMALLEST bit of angst, just a lot of overly detailed domestic simon. baby daddy simon who is still in love with you! maybe ooc. unedited cuz :p

note .: ty baby suz for reading it over!! @dr4kenz <;33

.: masterlist.

baby daddy ! simon who walks with his daughter to school for her first day, he’s has her small disney-themed backpack tugged onto his shoulder, the straps too small and digging into his skin. but he doesn’t care. his other hand is accompanied by your daughter, her small fingers looped around only his index.

she’s babbling about random things, how excited she is to make new friends, the ladybug who landed on her shoulder and gave her good luck, how she’s going to pick out new hair clips when you take her to the mall later today.

she’s jumping around — her light-up shoes blinking wildly with every exaggerated step, and simon hovers his arm close behind her in case she slips and falls.

“you don’t have to, it’s early in the morning, and i know you’re busy,” you mumble over the phone, pressing the device between your ear and shoulder. you’re cursing softly, trying to fix up your daughter’s lunch while trying not to burn her special breakfast, the blueberry pancakes that you dyed purple with food coloring, a tradition she started when she first started pre-school. since then, as good luck, she would stuff herself with the artificially colored pancakes for the first day of school.

from the other line, simon can hear all the commotion, and he’s already slipping out of his pajamas and into warmer clothes. “how ‘bout i come over and help her get ready?” his question is more of a loose remark. he’s already heading down the stairs to slip his shoes on.

you hiss loudly, your hand brushing against the hot kettle you had put on for your cup of tea. “no, i couldn’t ask you to do that.” you set your phone down and put it on speaker, sighing loudly when the flames flicker over the pan. you had burnt her pancakes and would have to make them again. “just go back to sleep.”

“i’m already on my way,” simon grunts, the cold air slapping him in the face as he steps outside and into his car. “miss that little bug,” he utters, keeping you on the phone as he begins to drive. if he’s being honest, your frantic voice eases him a bit; it reminds him that he is still needed despite your relationship. whenever things get too rough for you, there’s not a moment of hesitation when you call him, and although you deny any attempts of his help, he knows that you’re just being stubborn.

his drive to your place is short; he’s fishing into his pocket and pulling out the spare key you gave him. a childish giggle and tiny footsteps greet him before he can fully open the door, small arms wrapping around his leg.

“daddy!” the young girl squeals, her arms hugging his thigh tighter as she forcefully drags him through the door. simon’s lips turn up in a soft smile, and he kicks his shoes off and picks up his daughter. “hey, kid. you givin’ mama a hard time?”

the stubble on his chin tickles her when he presses a wet kiss to her cheek, another giggle rising from her chest. simon hoists her onto his hip, holding her close as he walks into the house to find you.

for a moment, he watches you as you continue to busy yourself in the kitchen. pajamas loosely hanging from your body, your hair pulled into a messy bun – strands slipping from the rubberband and splaying over the nape of your neck.

“hey, ma.” simon greets, his voice gruff and deep from just waking up moments ago. he presses his free hand to your hip and lets his lips linger on the temple of your forehead. a sweet, friendly…good morning kiss. how he always greets his girls.

“mornin’ si.” you turn in his hold, glancing up at him in acknowledgment before you flip another large pancake. “can you get her dressed? i laid out an outfit on her bed.”

the girl squirming in simon’s arms huffs, her hands reaching out and grasping onto your loose fitted shirt – simon’s old shirt he’d left behind. “i can get dressed on my own! ‘m a big girl now.” she argues with a whine, her hands being pulled off you by simon’s calloused fingers.

“big girls don’t need hot chocolate before bed,” you say, turning to give her chubby cheeks a gentle pinch. a smile painting your lips when she pulls away, turning her face and smushing it into her father’s chest.

simon nods, and although you can’t see it now that your attention is turned back to the slightly burnt pancakes in front of you, you know he’s leaving with the way his hand falls from your hip.

you hate the way that you’re so comfortable with him around, especially with the way your relationship with him ended. originally, simon never knew that you were pregnant. you had opted out of telling him one too many times, nerves overtaking you; the idea of being a mother alone was too much. but having to tell the man who had told you time and time again he wasn’t ready for kids, that he was to be expecting one – it made you more nauseous than the baby in your stomach.

although lucky for you, he broke up with you before you could tell him. unlucky for you, his reason for doing so was unselfish; you couldn’t find it in yourself to hold any hatred towards him. with a heavy heart, he told you things weren’t working out for him, he loved you so much, but with how busy he was at work, he found less time to see you and even less time to express his adoration.

most days when you were able to see him, it consisted of just cuddling, little words spoken except for your inquiries about his future and thoughts of having kids. he always mumbled that he didn’t have time to think about that kind of stuff, and just pull you closer to his chest, nuzzling his face into your skin and dozing off to sleep.

it didn’t bother you one bit; just being with him in his arms was enough for you.you didn’t mind that your time together was spent sleeping or sharing a quiet meal. it wasn’t fair to you, none of it was fair – but simon knew you deserved better. so he reluctantly had to break things off; it was the only thing he could think of. he didn’t know how to fix things, how to communicate that he didn’t want to be apart from you. he just didn’t have the time to be there for you at the moment, and he knew he was hurting you either way, so if you could find another to confide in, to turn your heart to, that would be enough for him.

after years of being apart, simon found himself standing in front of your door, full gear still clinging to him tightly, his palms sweaty but hidden from his gloves. he pressed his head into your door, a frustrated groan bubbling in his aching chest. what was he thinking, showing up to your place unannounced? what if you didn’t even live here anymore? what if you had moved on and wanted nothing to do with him?

it was selfish, but he needed to see you again. not a day went by where you weren’t on his mind, the barracks drove him to madness, and without escape, he found comfort in an old picture of you he had taken with him.

you had opened the door after three of his hesitant knocks; confusion etched onto your face as you stared up at the masked man, his eyes familiar but looming with newfound hurt and trauma from the brutal battlefield.

“did you need something?” you asked, the soft babbling from your television the only thing filling the air after he looked down at you in silence. just taking you in for a moment. you looked tired but beautiful as ever. your hair slightly tangled, old baggy clothes of his that hung from your smaller figure – but you still had the same friendly smile on your face, genuine and kind eyes that looked up at him.

he swallowed thickly; you looked happy. who was he to ruin that by coming back? he had come all this way without any regrets. seeing you again was all he desired. you were happy, and that’s all he needed to know; he didn’t want to know about the person who might’ve stepped in and mended your heart together after he broke it.

gripping his bag tightly, he turned, walking off without a second glance. it was time for him to move on. you had. he was a fool to think things could go back to how it had, how he could hold you so intimately in his arms, whispering in your ear how much he loved you. feeling your lips all over his skin, the way your soft hands would trail along his burning skin. he was so stupid.

“simon?”

your voice was just barely above a whisper, and you watched with wide eyes the way he stopped in his tracks, muscles flexed under his tight-fitted uniform as he tensed.

his heart was beating out of his chest, ringing in his ear. turning back to face you, he hooked two fingers under his balaclava and pulled it off. he hated how you looked at him, concerned, creasing your brows. you should hate him; you should be angry that he showed his face to you again. instead, you’re tracing your thumb along his scars, ones that you didn’t recognize and the faint ones that you had already seen before.

simon sighed softly under your touch, dropping his bag and wrapping his arms around you. he pressed his nose into your hair, breathing in your scent while hugging you tightly. he almost broke down when he felt your arms coil around him, pulling him closer and burying your head into his chest.

“mommy?”

just like that, simon’s world crashes down again. he pulls away from you and looks over your shoulder to see a small girl, no older than seven standing in the doorway. she was a spitting image of you, so there was no doubt that she wasn’t yours. although, in a sense, it felt like he was looking in a mirror. piercing brown eyes staring back at him with the same amount of confusion.

“we should talk, si.” you’re wrapping your hand around his wrist, gently tugging him inside. without any hesitation, he’s following close behind you.

since then, and that very painfully confusing conversation. simon had made his way back into your life, calling every day, showing up unannounced, and accompanying you to your daughters' school events. you didn’t complain; a life without a father was a hard one. you were glad that simon was being responsible and stepping up, and you couldn’t lie; feelings from years ago still lingered, so you enjoyed that you could spend quality time with him again.

simon chuckles lowly when his daughter smushes his cheeks with her small palms, her legs kicking into his torso as he carries her into her room. setting her down on the edge of her bed, he glances at the outfit you’d picked for her – a cute, frilly, pink dress with little white sneakers and a white cardigan.

he lets his daughter dress herself, only stepping in to help when she tries to stick her head into her sleeve. he kneels in front of her, slipping on her tiny shoes and tying the laces. kissing her knees, he pats her cheeks and fixes her dress when she jumps down and spins in a circle.

“pancakes are ready, sweetheart!” you shout from the kitchen, sliding the hotcakes onto a plate and setting it on the dining table. zipping up her lunchbox, you set it aside before grabbing two mugs and pouring tea for you and simon.

the pair hobbles into the kitchen, simon tugged along by the hyper girl. he shakes his head with a faint smile, lifting and setting her on the chair. you lean against the counter, mug in hand, while you watch as he cuts up her purple pancakes, popping a piece into his mouth and earning a loud complaint from the young girl.

you hand him the other mug filled with tea, brewed just how he likes. he grins, looking at the cup over and realizing it’s his favorite mug, one no one is allowed to drink from unless it’s him. simon leans in and kisses your cheek before leaning against the counter next to you, the two of you watching your daughter scarf down the purple pancakes like it’d be her last meal.

you lean over with a soft pout, grabbing a napkin and wiping syrup off the corner of her mouth. “are you excited for your first day of school?”

she nods quickly, stuffing the last of her breakfast into her mouth before she leans back, patting her stomach with satisfaction. “gonna make so many new friends today,” she grins up at you with a crooked smile.

“bet you are. we should get going. don’t wanna be late,” simon says, setting the dishes into the sink and slinging the disney-themed backpack onto his broad shoulder.

you frown, during the midst of it all, frantic to get things done, you had completely forgotten to change or get yourself ready. you sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose. one simple mistake after another, and now you’d have to miss sending your little girl off for her first official day of school.

simon is quick to notice your mood dropping; he shuffles over to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, tilting your head up. “why don’t you rest, i’ll wake you later, and we can pick her up together.”

you sigh, your shoulders dropping in disappointment. it was silly, but you had been with your daughter every step of the way. it wasn’t a big moment you’d be missing, but a memory nonetheless. you wanted to push yourself, rush into your room and get ready as quickly as possible so you could walk with your simon, holding hands with your daughter while she swung between the both of you. but exhaustion was creeping from your muscles and to your eyes, your eyelids struggling to stay open.

with an unwilling yawn, you nod and let simon guide you to the comfort of your bedroom.

“c’mon bug, let’s tuck mommy in for a quick nap.” simon teases, pulling the comforter back and easing you down onto the mattress. he takes a step back and helps your daughter pull the blanket back up and tuck it under your chin.

“night, mommy. dream of sweets!” the small girl loudly shouts, afraid you won’t be able to tear her with the blanket covering your face.

you smile at her words, turning onto your side to look at her. “thank you, baby.”

simon brushes the hair out of your eyes, leaning down and lightly pressing his lips to your temple. he then lifts his daughter so she can do the same, finalizing your tuck in with a goodnight kiss…or a good morning one.

“alright, let’s get you to school, kiddo.”

the sun hangs low as simon walks hand in hand with his daughter, a short walk to the school a couple of blocks away. the air was chilling, and simon had tugged off his jacket and slipped it onto the young girl, the article of clothing hanging massively on her frame, the hem almost dragging on the floor.

he adjusted the straps of the small colorful backpack, very snug on his broad shoulder and digging into his skin – but he didn’t care; he wore it with pride.

simon’s daughters’ chatter filled the quiet streets as she rambled about her hopes for the day. her small fingers clutched her father's index finger tightly, her words a delightful mixture of innocence and imagination.

“daddy, you know what?” she asks, her voice laced with enthusiasm. she looks up at him with a grin before her attention is quickly redirected towards a small patch of flowers, a bloom of yellow bursting in a patch of healthy green grass.

simon watches as she lets go of his hand, crouching down and picking a couple of stems, gathering a few before returning to his side. “what, sweetheart?”

“that ladybug that landed on my shoulder yesterday said i’m going to have the best day ever today!” she exclaims, handing the crumpled bundle of probable weeds to him, brushing her damp hands on the outside of her father’s jacket.

simon chuckles lightly at her action, his hands delicately holding the array of flowers. “the ladybug said that?”

“yep!” she said, continuing to marvel at the dream that she had that night; something about mayonnaise and mustard made simon smile, her infectious energy captivating him.

as they walked, simon took note of the new shoes you had bought your daughter, the bright light-up shoes blinking with each exaggerated step she took. she jumped around, hopping over every line on the sidewalk, claiming that they would break your back, simon didn’t understand, but he held an arm behind her in case she tumbled backward.

approaching the school gate, simon couldn’t help but feel a frown forming on his face, the memory-filled walk ending too soon. he knelt at his little girl’s eye level, pulling her closer to him.

“have a good day, kid. if anyone gives you trouble, tell me, and i’ll get it sorted out.” he teased, although only half of him was joking. simon slipped his jacket off her and fixed her backpack onto her shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead.

“i will! give mommy those flowers when she wakes up.” she nods, glancing behind her at the many kids that walked into the gate before hugging her father quickly, stumbling out of his hold and rushing towards the school, excitement coursing through her veins.

simon wished she had stayed a little longer, hugged him a little more, and kissed him back. still, as he watched her run into school, he realized something, he was old – and that his happiness weighed out his disappointment. he might’ve been absent for the beginning chapters of her life, but this was the first big step he was here for. it made him realize how many more were to come; watching her grow up warmed his thoughts, and he could do it all by your side. just you and his daughter, his girls.

AN: i have so many parts alr written for baby daddy simon. SHOULD I MAKE THIS A SERIES, and do i name the kid...??

#[ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒. ]#papa simon #UGH #( 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ )#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader fluff #ghost x reader #ghost x reader fluff #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #cod #call of duty #call of duty fluff #cod fluff

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yandere-daydreams · 6 months

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Title: Bedside Manner.

Pairing: Yan!Doctor!Gojo x Reader x Yan!Nurse!Geto (JJK).

Word Count: 2.9k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Sex Toys, Could Be Read As A Geto Stayed AU But It's Funnier If You Don't, Bondage, Improper Use of Cum, A Brief Blowjob Aside, Overstimulation, Unprotected Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Slight Dom/Sub Dynamics, and Medical Malpractice.

“The patient should be waking up any second now, doctor.”

You stirred at the sound of Geto’s voice, groaning as you blinked away harsh, colorless light. The room around you came into focus slowly; your bleary eyes scanning over four blank walls and sterile titanium cabinets, only lingering momentarily on the tool-crowded trays latched onto either side of the metallic examination table you’d been laid across before moving to the doorway. Gojo was stepping across the threshold, wearing what you could only describe as a child’s idea of how a general practitioner might’ve dressed. His blindfold was gone, replaced with a pair of thin-rimmed shades he wore low on the bridge of his nose, and his uniform had been swapped out for a fitted button-up and a long, unwrinkled lab coat. An authentic-enough stethoscope had been strung around his neck, latex gloves pulled over his hands, but he hadn’t bothered to write anything on the paper held by the clipboard tucked under his arm, and his tie was left loose and undone in his collar. If you saw him in an actual hospital, you might’ve hesitated before asking to see his medical license. Might’ve.

Geto entered behind him, hands clasped behind his back and hair pulled into a loose bun. Your gaze dipped below his collar and your brain immediately short-circuited.

You couldn’t remember ever seeing a skirt that short in a… well, you couldn’t remember ever seeing a skirt that short anywhere.

Unlike Gojo, he’d clearly gotten his costume out of the darkest corner of the sketchiest store he could find. It might’ve been able to pass for a nurse’s uniform, had it not been for the fishnets stretched over his toned legs, the skin-tight skirt that ended well below his mid-thigh, the plunging neckline framed on either side by a pressed white collar. As you gawked, he caught your eye, a pointed grin tugging at the corners of his red lips. “Doctor,”he practically purred the title, bringing his hands up to Gojo’s shoulders. “It seems the patient is in a state of shock! Oh, no, what are you going to do?”

What his costume lacked, Gojo made up for with his acting. “There’s nothing to worry about.” His voice was artificially deep, his tone low and gravelly. “You’re both in good hands. I specialize in cases like this – needy young things neglected for far too long.” He clicked his tongue, flicking his glasses on top of his head. “Why don’t you prepare the patient, nurse?”

At that, your expression dropped. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit today, guys.” You threw your legs over the side of the table, your scowl deepening as you glanced down and found that your clothes had been replaced with a nearly transparent hospital gown. Geto appeared behind you as you moved to stand, his fist curling around your wrist, but you shook him off. “Where are we? If swear, if I find out you cleared out an actual hospital for the sake of your shitty roleplay, I’ll—"

“Doctor,” Geto crooned again, “The patient seems to be hysterical. It’s driven them to delusion!”

His hands clapped over your shoulders. With that terrible grin still plastered across his lips, he slammed you down against the metal table and ignored your attempts to thrash against his hold. Gojo gasped, throwing his blank clipboard to the ground as he rushed to slap a hand over his mouth. “Their condition must be worse than we thought. If we don’t act now, we might lose them for good.”

Geto’s hold tightened. “Do you think it’s come to that, doctor?”

There was a beat of silence. Eventually, Gojo replied, “Yes. That.”

Geto let out a deep breath, his grin faltering. “The toys, Satoru.”

Immediately, he perked up, striding confidently to the foot of your bed. “Their treatment, you mean.” He reached towards one of the trays latched to your cot and, this time, you noticed that they weren’t housing tools, but an almost impressive collection of toys; bullets and wands of as many sizes and colors as you could imagine lined up in neat rows between bottles of lube and textured silicone monstrosities. After a second of thought, he chose a ribbed, hot pink rabbit vibrator, the insert just a little too big not to send a pang of dread to the pit of your stomach.

You scratched at Geto’s wrists and, when he failed to budge, let out a long, wordless scream – punctuated by a frustrated growl as you kicked toward Gojo. “If you so much as thick about touching me with that, I’ll—”

“Hysterical, like you said. If left untreated, it’ll progress into constant agitation, or worse – sexual repulsion.” He paused, slipped two gloved fingers into his mouth. A wet, slick sound filled the cramped space. By the time he pulled away, a string of spit stretched between his fingertips and his lips; only broken as his hand fell to your cunt. “Of course, proper preparation is necessary. We wouldn’t be able to call ourselves professionals if we didn’t take care of our patients, would we, nurse?”

Geto shook his head dutifully as Gojo spread the lips of your pussy apart, his haphazardly lubricated fingers thrusting into your entrance. They must’ve already done something to you in your sleep. Your body offered no resistance as he spread his fingers apart inside of you, slight discomfort turning to reluctant pleasure too quickly to be the first time they’d stretched open your body that day. He curled his fingers and you jerked against Geto’s hold, your hips bucking upward and earning a click of his tongue, a more pitying shake of his head. “Unruly patients have to be restrained.”

You opened your mouth, bracing yourself to ask what that was supposed to mean, but anything you might’ve said was replaced with a sharp whimper as his attention moved to your wrists – catching them in one hand while the other began to fiddle with something at the head of the table. You felt it more than you saw it; thick and leathery, looped once around your wrists and pulled tight, binding your hands above your head. Now freed, his own touch drifted to the collar of your gown, then lower, cupping the curves of your chest through the papery material and squeezing harshly. His thumbs swiped over your nipples while Gojo’s fingers ground against something soft and sensitive inside of you and stuck between the two of them, you shrunk into yourself, shutting your eyes as little whines and hitched moans escaped your treacherous lips.

Your pathetic resistance was met with an airy chuckle, a mouth pressed against your collarbone as Geto bent at the waist. “What a lucky little thing you are – to have such a skilled doctor looking after you.” His breath fanned over your skin and, as if to prove his point, Gojo forced another finger into your now slick-soaked cunt, pumping all three into you at a brutal, breaking pace. Bucking against him wasn’t an act of rebellion, this time, but a necessity; a choice your body made on your behalf. You didn’t want to, but you would’ve done anything to loosen the vice-tight coil in your core, the cool the pure warmth flooding through your veins. “You’ll show him how thankful you are for such thorough treatment, won’t you?”

Willing or otherwise, you would have to. You could feel your body starting to stiffen, your pussy clenching around his fingers as something deep inside of youbegan to smolder. The heel of Gojo’s palm ground against your clit and you moaned shamelessly, struggling not to clench your thighs shut as—

—as Gojo drew back, leaving you empty and quickly coming down from your near-high. There was a twinge of disappointment, but any relief your better judgement might’ve been able to summon was quickly smothered and suffocated as Gojo, color-bleached hair falling over his eyes, thrust his chosen vibrator into your vulnerable pussy and switched it on.

It wasn’t a question of when you would break, but how quickly. It only took a few seconds under the harsh vibrations being pumped into your clit, of enduring the way the bulbed insert pumped and ground against the walls of your cunt for you to crack. “Take it out,” you begged, spreading your legs involuntarily. “Take it out, turn it off, please, I—”

“That’s just your condition talking. You’re looking better already,” Geto cooed, his arm snaking around your neck and drawing you flat against the examination table. “Good patients take their treatment with a smile.”

“Helpful as always, nurse.” Gojo flattened one hand against your lower stomach, using the other to keep his vibrator in place despite your body’s convulsions. “But you don’t need to be so harsh. Look – it’s already taking effect.”

He was right. He was right and you hated him for it. You could feel yourself clenching around the length of his insert, your back threatening to arch off the examination table as you came around his toy. Climax provided no reprieve, though. Gojo only hummed, his thumb pressing into a silver button on the vibrator’s base. In an instant, the vibrations grew stronger, the aching pleasure being forced onto your body more savage. As you fought not to come undone for the second time in seconds, Gojo’s eyes flickered to Geto. “I think it’s about time we started on the patient’s medicine.”

Geto didn’t protest. He pressed a lingering kiss into the curve of your neck before straightening his back and climbing onto the examination table with you; a knee planted snuggly on either side of your head, giving you a view under his skirt too perfectly posed not to be deliberate. The costume was worse than you could’ve possibly imagined. Black garter belts hugged his muscular thighs, a stark departure in tone and style from the silken ivory panties barely covering his thick cock. He was already painfully hard – the outline of his length showing through the thin material, the tip leaking enough arousal to render both his panties and the cheap fabric of his skirt transparent.

He bent down and Gojo rose to meet him, propping one knee on the edge of the table as Geto undid his belt and shrugged down his dress pants, freeing Gojo’s cock. He let out a raspy groan as Geto’s painted lips ghosted over his flushed tip, as he ran his broad tongue running over the underside of Gojo’s cock before taking it into his mouth. You tried to look away, to focus on something that wasn’t one of them or the vibrator pulsing in your cunt, but its mechanical pattern was just jarring enough to keep you grounded in reality and they were so fucking loud, Geto’s noisy swallows and stifled moans always met with Gojo’s praise. The bright blue of his gloves stood out against Geto’s dark hair like lightning against a storm, the shape of his cock visible against the column of Geto’s throat as he swallowed Gojo down. Drool pooled at the corners of his mouth, smearing his lipstick and dripping down to his chin as he bobbed his head in-time with Gojo’s idle thrusts. As you were nudged closer to your second climax, Geto worked Gojo towards his first; his already erratic pace growing more frenzied. His eyes fell shut, Geto’s name slipping past his lips – cut short by a hitched breath as he rutted into Geto’s mouth.

You forced yourself to look away as Geto choked him through his high, but it didn’t matter. Burning white blotted out your vision as his vibrator forced you over the ledge, sending another wave of blissful agony coursing through hyper-sensitive body. It seemed to hold you in that state of euphoric paralysis for minutes – your eyes glazed over and unfocused, your legs twitching and your cunt clenching around the bulbed insert. Gojo’s airy chuckle was the only thing that stopped you from spiraling completely. The vibrator was switched off and removed unceremoniously, Geto helped down from the examination table with a muffled whine of protest. Gojo’s hands curled around your ankles, dragging you downward until your legs hung over the table’s blunt edge and Geto could position himself between your twitching thighs. Exhausted and limp, you could only shake your head and whimper as Gojo’s hands slipped under Geto’s skirt, hiking the fabric up to his waist and tearing away his panties entirely. With his chin propped on Geto’s shoulder, his hand panted on Geto’s hip, he wrapped his fist around Geto’s cock and lined his leaking tip up with your dripping entrance. Geto, with a pursed-lipped frown and eyes blown just a little too wide to sell the doe-like innocence he was aiming for, paid Gojo a hesitant glance, but Gojo clicked his tongue, pressing his chest into Geto’s back with the practiced steadiness of a decade-long mentor. “Don’t be shy, nurse.” He slotted his lip against Geto’s ass. “Someone’s still waiting for their medicine.”

His assurance was kind, but unnecessary; Geto couldn’t play coy for very long. Wordlessly, he thrust into you, bottoming out in a single stroke.

Gojo was still there, providing a steadying hand, but what little self-restraint Geto had snapped the moment he felt your cunt clamp around him. While you recoiled, your body attempting to escape his hostile affection before your mind could realize it was futile, he groaned and lurched into you, never satisfied unless he could be buried as deeply inside of you as possible. A hand shot up – taking hold of your jaw and prying your grit teeth apart as his mouth crashed into yours. The kiss was open-mouthed and rough, his tongue lashing out to force something warm and bitter into your mouth. You begged yourself not to put a name to the substance he was practically tongue-fucking down your throat, but tears still managed to blur your hazy vision, overstimulation and humiliation turning every sensation sharp and invasive. What was left of your limited strength was poured into writhing and thrashing underneath him, but that only seemed to spur Geto on, to let him fuck into your cunt with that much more force, to make the sound of his skin slapping against yours that much more unbearable. Gojo didn’t help, but he didn’t stop him, either. He kept his hands on Geto’s waist, kept that shit-eating grin plastered across his lips as he watched Geto fuck into you like a wild animal, let out of its cage for the very first time.

Your third and last climax was almost pathetically weak; your body wrung dry and your nerves burnt to nothing. Your final moan came out hoarse and stunted, your form going limp underneath him, and yet, it was enough to tip Geto over the edge, to leave him grunting as he pressed his hips flush to yours and filled your cunt with something so, so much worse than the stale cum he made you swallow. At least that, you’d been able to ignore, to reject. The feeling of pure heat dripping down the inside of your thighs as he stilled against you wasn’t as easy to block out.

He lingered on top of you, his breath ragged and his face buried in the side of your neck. Gojo was the one to break the stillness, predictably, letting out a pitchy whine as he threw himself onto fGeto. “You looked so hot.” He drew the final word out for a second too long, his voice cracking on the final note. “You looked hot and I couldn’t say anything because I had to stay in character but all I wanted to do was put my di—"

“Later, Satoru.” With a groan, Geto straightened his back, taking Gojo with him as he pried himself away from you. The leather strap around your wrists was pulled loose, and he helped you sit up-right, your legs still dangling over the side of the examination table. His cum stained the inside of your thighs, the hospital gown they’d dressed you in hanging wrinkled and ragged from your shoulders. Geto let out a soft coo as he looked over you, his acting only slightly more believable than it’d been a few minutes ago. “I’ll get you cleaned up while Satoru takes care of mess. We’ll get you back home after that, alright?”

You let your head lull forward. It was your turn to bury your face in his chest, now, to huff as Gojo changed tactics – positioning himself behind you and nuzzling into the nape of your neck. “I hate you two.” You spared a fleeting glance to either side. “Where are we? This doesn’t look like any of Shoko’s labs.”

A beat of silence lapsed between the two of them. Finally, Gojo chimed in. “That would’ve saved us a lot of time, huh, Suguru?”

Immediately, you stiffened. “This cannot be a real—”

Geto pressed a kiss into your forehead. “It’s nothing worth worrying your pretty little head over, sweetheart.”

“There’s not even a law for—”

“Doctor,” Geto called, speaking over you. “Your patient’s getting riled up, again.”

You jolted, but didn’t have time to get away. Gojo was already pressing himself against you, his hand slipping between your thighs as his grin bit into the side of your throat.

“You can leave this one to me, nurse.”

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amyminhminh · 2 months

Text

⋆*･ﾟ You ⋆ ☾*･ﾟ:

Tags: Wanderer x reader, gn!reader

Summary: Wanderer misses your presence while you are away and fortunately, you come back home.

──────────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────────────

Wanderer flipped the pages begrudgingly, his tired eyes drooping under the dim light.

Kusanali had made him write more theses more often lately, and not to mention his additional work of helping the young god around Sumeru. Everything was taking a toll on him and he didn’t like it one bit.

His beloved was out at that time. He missed your presence. Your sweet scent. Your voice… Your everything. He just wanted to see your small form slipping through the door of your shared home, tip-toeing on the floor boards to surprise him. He craved to feel your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he finally relaxed in your embrace. That way, he wouldn’t have to worry about anything else.

“Hah…”

Puppets like him don’t experience exhaustion, yet his eyes threatened to close at any given moment. He didn’t want to write theses anymore. The only thing he wanted then was you. And you alone.

He was in a trance, thinking of you. He could feel the presence of your arms snaking their way on his tensed shoulder blades, hugging him from behind. Your intoxicatingly sweet smell tickled his senses. He breathed out in a huff.

“Boo.”

His eyes snapped open as he tensed up. He let his guard down. He would and had never let his guard down like that. But he did.

A head appeared in view and he froze like a statue. He would have activated his vision and attacked at that moment, but his body refused to move.

The thought went away as soon as he recognized the face that he had been yearning for.

“What’s got you so tense? Missed me so much?”

Your eyelashes fluttered at the sight of him working on his theses. He hated writing them but he just couldn’t bring himself to reject Lesser Lord Kusanali. Everytime complaints escaped from his lips, you would always ruffle his hair, treating him like a little kid throwing a tantrum over spilled ice cream. But what a sweetheart you were. You would often offer help if you had time, and he appreciated that.

You were always so kind, so understanding… to everyone. Even to strangers. It made him worry about your safety whenever you had the need to go outside without him. And having been betrayed three times in his life, he wanted you to show your kindness towards only him.

Sometimes he just wanted to lock you up in the house to protect you. To love you. To have all your affection for himself.

“Wanderer? Whatcha thinking about?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Slapping himself internally, he sighed at the overflowing thoughts circling around his artificial mind. He needed to stop with his possessiveness. It reminded him of…

Nevermind. It seemed like he stayed silent for too long.

“Nothing. Just brainstorming some ideas for theses.”

On your plump lips plastered a smile. The same smile he had adored from the first time he met you.

“You seem tired. You should take a rest. And don’t pull the ‘I’m a puppet, I don’t feel tired!’ on me. You sound like that adeptus from Liyue I know.”

Liyue? Adeptus? There you went, going around all places and meeting new people. Not like he could stop you. But he just couldn’t help the jealousy bubbling up inside his body, urging him to take action. Though he wouldn’t do things like those characters in novels. Yanderes… if he recalled correctly. The novel he had read was published by the Yae Publishing House. Yeah, Inazuma. He knew. But he had to admit the writing style was quite… enthralling to say the least. And a bit provocative, he had to add. All of the phrasing in the book made his mind wander to a certain fox…

Back to the point, all of the yandere’s actions were what his Fatui self would do. He as Wanderer would not cage you inside and punish you for being too close to others.

Or would he?

“Hey, you seem out of it today. What’s wrong? Are the theses’ topics too hard to work on? You know what, I’m taking these. You need rest and I, myself will guard by your side so you can have your beauty sleep!”

Your lips touched the tip of his ear like gentle sakura petals fluttering down in the start of spring. The soft breathing of yours sent pleasant vibrations to his body.

“And I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer!”

For a moment, your lips fluttered against his forehead, then his nose, then his cheek. You kissed everywhere on his pale porcelain face. Your kisses were coaxing him to sleep. But you left his lips alone. As if you were teasing him, you didn’t even bother eyeing them.

“Alright. I will freshen up and join you in bed.”

Wait. No kiss?

He could not believe it. His hand rushed to take hold of your wrist and twirled you around to meet his face. Time seemed to slow down as he smashed his lips onto yours, feeling your breath hitch among light gasps.

Two bodies squished up to one another on the sofa. The house was only brightened up by small lamps, competing with the twinkling of the stars in the vast dark sky he once called fake. Beautiful as it was, it could not compare to the sight of you leaning onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck, head leaning back as he peppered featherlight kisses on your neck.

He was suppressing his desire to just throw you on the soft sheets and bury his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent that had his mind go hazy. He could not deny that the presence of you being there had boosted his energy somewhat. The strange grogginess had disappeared the second you came in. He wanted you so badly that it was hurting. But he needed to consider the fact that you had just come home, your rest was necessary. Perhaps he would have to wait until the next sun rose up…

“Wanderer…”

Lifting his head to look into your eyes, he gazed at you as if you were the most enchanting thing in the world. And you are.

“I love you.”

“So much.”

“What’s with the sudden affection?”

A chuckle rose from your throat as his eyes bore into yours, twinkling in the warm light.

“I love you, too. Now, come on… don’t you want me to freshen up? Let go, you big man baby… Actually, minus the big part-”

Before he could react, your frame sprung up from the couch and you sped to the bathroom, not forgetting to stick your tongue out at his face.

“I’m going to get you back for this…”

He huffed out with a sigh. Without noticing, the corners of his lips curled up into a slight smile. This was what he had always wanted. To love you.

And to be loved by you.

──────────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────────────

Word count: 1162 words

#wanderer x reader #wanderer #scaramouche #genshin #genshin x reader #kunikuzushi #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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st7rnioioss · 2 months

Text

౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆ we fell in love in october

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: fluff, kissing, swearing, friends to lover

word count: 1.9k

a/n: hiii everyoneee. i literally just realised i reached 1.4k, thats fucking insane, thank you so so much. i love this request, had a lot of fun, thank you!!!

this is based off this request!

౨ৎ

Matt was walking beside you up to your house. You had just been driving around the area, talking about all sorts of topics. From high school to work to your personal lives.

“Thanks for walking me home, Matt. It was nice spending time with you today,” you smiled sincerely, pulling him in for a hug as you reached your front porch.

“It’s my pleasure. I had a lot of fun as well,” he chuckled, bringing his arms around your waist to pull you closer. A bit too close for people who consider themselves ‘just friends’. You pulled away with a bright smile, letting your hand linger on the back of his neck for just a moment.

“You look nice tonight, by the way. I think I kinda forgot to tell you, but I really like that dress,” he laughed nervously, scratching his head. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, the single compliment making your cheeks turn a faint pink color.

“Thank you! It’s uh- It’s new actually.” you looked down on yourself, tugging at the end of the floral dress you were wearing. “You look great too,” you nodded with a shy smile, pointing to him.

Matt couldn’t stop smiling. He simply just found you adorable to say the least.

"Thanks,” he beamed, looking back up from your dress to meet your eyes. “Well uh- I should go, it’s getting late. I’ll see you soon, okay?” he smiled, taking a tiny step backwards.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon. Goodnight, Matt.” you waved, also taking a small step back, trying not to trip over the stairs right behind you.

The old door to your house creaked as you pushed it open. You were kind of tired from hanging out with Matt all day, not that it had anything to do with him. It was just getting late.

You had gone shopping, had lunch, fed ducks at the lake, went for a late night drive, and overall just enjoyed each other's company.

Matt had been your best friend since forever. You met somewhere during junior year in high school, and after that you hadn’t been seen separately. After a few months into senior year you realized you had developed a tiny crush on Matt. That didn’t change though. You were still in love with him to this day.

Matt and his brothers started a YouTube career, and you found a job in a bakery that also sold all kinds of flowers. Because of that, you always had a few bouquets standing around and outside your home, the color and type of flower changing depending on the season and vibe you wanted to go for.

For the past week you had white heliotrope.

You placed your phone and keys on your kitchen counter, slipping out of your coat and shoes after having been out in the chilly weather all day.

A small vibration came from your phone, the screen lighting up. It was a message from Matt.

‘Can I come over tomorrow?’ it read. Matt always wanted to be around you, specifically in your house. He almost loved it more than you did. You quickly picked up the phone, positioning yourself on the kitchen counter to answer him immediately with a

‘Yes, of course :) We can watch that movie you were talking about if you want’.

‘Yeah, I’d love that. See you tomorrow then!’

You smiled to yourself, turning off your phone as you got down from the counter.

The small house you lived in was quite cozy. There wasn’t much electrical light, most of it being from either the fireplace or the candles you had propped up everywhere, or a lamp that had the same orange light as the candles. You paced around, lighting each and every candle that was in the kitchen and living room, creating a soft orange-like light. On top of that, the faint smell of cinnamon and apple made it even better. It wasn’t too artificial of a smell, not making people literally gag when they walked in. Matt seemed to like it a lot.

The next morning you woke up to the sunlight through your gingham curtain. Your friends found the curtains absolutely horrible, but you liked the vibe of the red and white. It just suited the rest of your interior.

Your phone had a message from Matt, asking if it was okay to come over around 8, since he was filming a video with his brothers. You replied with a ‘Yes, that’s perfect’, making your way downstairs to make breakfast.

At around 7.30pm you still had no idea what to put on. Not that it mattered, Matt had seen you in all sorts of situations, but it was something you relied a lot on.

You settled on something cozy but casual, knowing you were gonna watch a movie, so jeans would probably get uncomfortable. The makeup you had put on a few hours ago needed a touch up, as well as your hair.

That took you just the right amount of time, because right as you went downstairs to light the candles, there was a knock on the door. You rushed up to it, looking at your hair in the mirror before opening the door, revealing Matt.

“Hi, Matt! Come on in!” you smiled, opening the door further for him to get inside. You could swear he was lingering his gaze just a little too long on you, but you were pulled out of your thoughts when Matt leaned in to hug you.

“Hey, thanks for letting me come over, you know how much I love your place,” he smiled, letting you go as he took off his jacket. You just smiled back in return, making your way to the kitchen.

“So uh- Do you want to bake some cookies before starting the movie?” you smiled shyly, holding up a bowl in front of you.

His face lit up, and you took that as a yes.

After way too long, the cookies were finally done. With that being said, it took you a few throws of flour, way too many jokes, a shit ton of chocolate chips eaten from the bag, and a bunch of laughter.

“Oh my god, they look fucking delicious,” you smiled, pressing your nose up against the oven to get a look on the cookies.

“Really? Let me see, move,” he giggled, pushing you gently to the side with his hands on each side of your waist. Your face turned beet red, avoiding looking him up in the eyes, only erupting a quiet chuckle.

“Oh yeah, you’re right. I think we did an amazing job,” he raised his brows, letting one hand go of you to reach out for a high-five.

“Wait, was it this one? Friday the 13th, the 2009 one?” you asked, scrolling through the insane amount of horror movies on Netflix. Matt nodded with a hum, his mouth too filled with cookies to answer you verbally. You pressed start, leaning back against the headboard of your bed. Matt wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer under the stupid amount of blankets, making you smile to yourself.

The window to your room was open, letting a view of a beautiful, now orange, tree standing in your backyard show. Matt had helped you light a few candles, the usual cinnamon-apple ones. Your normally neat bed was now completely messy, a duvet, blankets, and pillows resting everywhere.

Matt’s heart was practically beating out of his chest. He, too, had always had the biggest, fattest crush on you. Even holding you this close made his head spin. You were caught up with the start of the movie, but Matt sure as hell wasn’t. Even though he seemed relaxed enough to you, he was tense, trying to think of anything else but you, but it seemed far from possible to him. He needed to do something.

About 40 minutes into the movie, he turned body to you.

“Hey- uh. Can I just tell you something really quick?” he stuttered, positioning his body so he was facing you. You nodded, taking the cup of tea from your lips to place it on your nightstand.

“Sure, what’s up?” you smiled back at him, letting your eyes wander from his hair to his eyes, now rosy cheeks and lips, taking in all his features.

“It’s just- I’m sorry if this is sudden I just-” he stopped, sighing as he couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“I really like you. Not just as a friend, I really really want to take you out. Fuck, you know, I like you like you,” he giggled, the words were flying out of his words. Your eyes were wide, lips slightly parted from the sudden confession.

“I’m in love with you, and I just wanted to let you know.” he finally stopped speaking, allowing you to speak as well.

“You have got to be kidding me. Oh my God, I-” you started laughing. Matt was slightly confused.

“What? Sorry, did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, it’s totally fine if you don’t like me back, I just thought-” you cut him off, pressing your lips to his. Quickly, you pulled back to watch his reaction.

You simply couldn’t stop yourself from giggling nervously, cheeks turning completely red. He didn’t say anything, he just simply stared in disbelief.

“Why did you stop?” he whispered, his eyes lingering on your lips. His hands found his way to the back of your neck, lacing his fingers through your hair.

“Sorry, I don’t know. It just seemed surreal for a second,” you laughed, placing a hand on his cheek. With that, he pulled you closer by your neck, sealing his lips with yours once again. This time, he was not ready to pull back anytime soon.

His hands roamed around the back of your head, holding your head as close as possible. He had been waiting for you for years. Your hands were on him as well. One cupping his cheek, the other resting on his shoulder. It took you a minute to pull back, simply craving air.

You looked up at him, a goofy smile appearing on both your faces while you both panted.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve stopped myself from doing that,” Matt admitted, keeping your hands on each other.

“Me too. I think I figured out I liked you during an English class. I literally sprinted home to write all my overthinking down in my diary,” you giggled, leaning closer into him to hug him.

He immediately melted into your touch, resting his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your sweet scent. The one he never got tired of.

“Can you kiss me again? I’m not wasting one minute after waiting for this long,” he chuckled, cupping your face with both of his hands.

“Matt, you don’t have to ask, just do it,” you laughed at his adorable question, but you gave in anyway, leaning up once more to kiss him from his cheek to finally seal the distance between your lips again.

And that’s basically how the night went. Movie still playing in the background, nearing the end, Matt leaning over you, leaving kisses on the sides of your face, forehead, cheeks, lips, neck, collarbone, any place imaginable. The candles were about to burn out, your cup of tea getting cold from not being drinked in the past 30 minutes.

To no one's surprise, he ended up staying over for the rest of the night.

a/n: stop why am i literally craving fall right now. wheres the rest of the "i hate summer" people at.

taglist: @chrissgirlsstuff @leah-loves-lilies @toriinie @cupidzsq @lacysturniolo @iluvmattyb @ratatioulle @emma4eva @riasturns @sstvrnioloo @sweetbabydoe @elliewrites1 @its-jennarose @abbypost @chrisstopherfilmed @sturniolossss @ducksturniolo @junnniiieee07 @klaus223492 @urfavvev3lyn @vschrissturn @cicimayx @keerahsturn let me know if you'd like to be added!

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #Spotify

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justlikemebutsixfootthree · 1 year

Text

the birthday party -

pairing: matty healy x f!reader

content: friends to lovers, explicit consent, george is a good friend, matty eats pussy, safe sex, denise, p in v sex

wordcount: 6787

this blog is 18+. minors, do not interact. this blog is a safe space. no hate or disrespect of any kind will be tolerated. all work is my own. do not reupload my work on any other site without my consent.

a/n: matty healy, you will always be famous <3

maybe it shouldn't bother him as much as it does. after all, it's just another day.

but it's his birthday. it's his fucking birthday, and there are no messages from you lighting up his phone.

at first, matty tried to convince himself that it was nothing. he had woken up and expected an all-caps message, only to be met with the god-awful time of 5:00 am. but it was okay - it was early, so you probably just want to wait - to ensure that he's awake to see your message.

so he waited.

he waited through bleary eyes - surrounded by his concrete walls and his white comforter - until his alarm sounded and jerked him awake.

a rush of disappointment shattered his bones when there was no message from you. no ‘happy birthday,’ no ‘good morning,’ not even a ‘hey.’

but still, it's okay. matty went about his morning, taking phone call after phone call from family members he hadn’t heard from since last year, pretending there wasn’t a hole in his heart where you left a dent. his mom texted him once; something about going over for a party and celebrating his birthday there with his family and bandmates, and that was it.

he spends the rest of the day picking at the pancakes george made him and tries desperately to ignore your silence.

so yeah, it hurts that you didn't text him, and he's starting to think that maybe it's not okay. because you're his best friend, and you didn't even have the decency to wish him a happy birthday.

there's always been something between the two of you; dotted lines that make it hard to walk or see straight whenever you're together, usually bickering about god knows what.

george says you love him. matty flicks his forehead until he drops it.

because how could someone who loves him forget his birthday?

he feels selfish - feels like shit wishing for something other than the health and clarity he was brought up to be thankful for on his birthday.

and you still don't text him.

it's only a couple of hours later when george's air conditioning hits his face with full power, eyes watering slightly with the artificial wind blowing right into his cornea. they’re on the way to his mother’s house, and matty is bracing himself for the onslaught of aunts with their strong perfume and uncles with their disapproving looks. beside him, george hums from the driver’s seat, a clear indication he can sense matty's heedlessness.

"alright, that's it," george says, turning down the music dial until barely audible guitar strums resonate in the car. “you’ve been moping all day. what gives?”

matty shrugs. "nothing, mate."

"bullshit."

george’s eyes are switching between watching the road and glaring daggers into matty's.

“it’s your birthday, and you’re acting as if someone just killed your snake. so i ask again,” george mutters as he flicks on his turn signal, pulling off the freeway to evacuate the sanctum of subdued car horns and merge into the exit lane. “what gives, matty?”

"it’s not a big deal,” he starts, interrupted by the forced chuckle that resounds beside him. he continues when the light turns green, george slowly letting off the breaks as they near his mom's house.

“i mean, i guess it's just, like, i dunno. i thought that—” he cuts himself off, lost in his head. matty stumbles over his words, a mess of broken syllables as he runs a nervous hand through his hair, messing up the mop of curls.

“she hasn’t texted me today.”

it’s rushed, a lick of shame and embarrassment crawling up his spine as the frigidity of the air conditioning meets his neck. the car is cold, chilling matty's bones with gentle fragility until they freeze and shatter like glass. he bleeds shame, every ounce of blood in his body tainted with the reminder that you forgot.

george's breath hitches, and he clears his throat with a fist over his hand as the other one turns them into a familiar street.

his mother’s house appears in his peripheral vision, the front porch light emitting a timbre, yellow glow, and he can see shadows through the large kitchen window.

matty picks at his nails, messing with his fingers as george parks the car. he can feel watchful eyes on him when he stares down at his lap.

george turns in his seat so they’re forced to face each other. “she didn’t text you at all?”

“not since last night.”

he unbuckles his seatbelt and places a hand on the door handle. he's stopped, a tug to his arm keeping him in place and not permitting him to leave the car—leave the conversation.

“hey,” george starts, voice low and with a lilt of concern tracing the lone syllable. “i’m sure she’s got a good reason. she wouldn’t just forget your birthday.”

matty scoffs, shaking his head until strands of dark hair fall in his face, blowing upwards so he can see again. “what reason?”

“i don't know,” he says, all one breath and fidgety when he unbuckles his seat belt. “but whatever it is, i’m sure she has a good excuse.”

there’s a squeeze to his shoulder, warm fingers emitting heat where they touch his skin through smooth cotton.

“you’re too young to be going through a midlife crisis over the girl you love not texting you for twenty-four hours.”

matty doesn’t have the energy to argue, not when he knows that his friend is right.

so instead of arguing, he smiles and punches george in the arm for good measure before they head down the paved walkway to his childhood home.

his mother greets him first, halfway through his third knock because she expected them over earlier. despite the squint in her eyes, she pulls her son into a tight hug, rubbing comforting circles into his back.

“happy birthday, dear,” she sings, muffled by his chest as she stands nearly half a foot shorter than him.

“thanks, mum.” he smiles, moving aside so george can get engulfed in a hug.

he’s missed it here, the warmth that bubbles in his stomach when he’s around his family, a house full of love and people that he grew up with. it’s almost enough to make him forget about a certain someone who still lingers in the back of his mind like day-old leftovers.

almost.

“so!” his mother beams, stepping back and allowing the boys to remove their shoes and step deeper into the house. “everyone is already here, and they can’t wait to sing you 'happy birthday'.”

matty’s led down the hallway, following his mom into the kitchen. a rumble of deep-set voices and squeals call his name, and his head turns to watch distant relatives scramble to pull him into tight hugs.

he kisses his grandparents on the cheeks, hugs his aunt and uncles and tells his cousins that he missed them. they pass him presents like he’s five again, smaller gifts to unwrap now that he’s an adult and no longer asks for life-sized action figures. george joins him, staying close with a timid smile on his face as he mingles with matty’s family. the whole scene coaxes a content sigh to escape his lips, and he relaxes when his mom gives him another hug.

“i got you something too,” she whispers when they pull apart, leading them into the living room and passing him a glass of wine. they sit, lively music wafting through the speakers, and he smiles as he watches george twirl his cousins around. “it’s not here yet though, i’m afraid. you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

“you didn’t have to get me anything, mum,” he says through the bitter taste of merlot.

she waves her hand dismissively. “oh stop it. you’ll love it, i promise.”

he tries to enjoy the party—really, he does. but thoughts of how much better it could be if you were here to enjoy it with him linger in the back of his mind. it’s tough to decide whether he should miss you or be mad at you. maybe he should forget you all together right now but he can’t. not when his brain is growing fuzzy and his cheeks feel warm, patches of crimson surely paint his face, thanks to the glass he downed in one go.

“matty, come do a shot with me!”

with a huff, matty makes his way toward his friend who holds a shot glass nearly overfilled with clear liquid.

george’s grin melts away when he sees him, eyes filled with concern as he hesitantly passes the shot to matty.

“you okay, mate?”

matty clears his throat and mumbles something about allergies and how it’s stuffy in here as cool liquor spills over his fingers. george doesn’t seem to buy it, but he shrugs anyways.

he shakes off the mist clouding his brain and smirks, self-indulgence taking over his dark eyes. he clinks the glass to his friend’s, liquid sloshing off the sides before he tips it back. it burns when it runs down his throat, leaves his tongue dry in a desert of twisted intoxication he knows he’ll regret in the morning.

“shit,” george hisses through his teeth. “‘ forgot that i fuckin’ hate vodka.”

matty laughs, and there’s silence between them for a moment, then, “mate, are you sure you’re okay? ‘cause, not to be an arse, but you look fuckin’ horrible.”

exasperated, matty runs his hands through his already mussed hair.

“i’m gonna go get another drink.”

a calloused hand wraps around his wrist and stops him from pulling away. “maybe you should ease up on the booze,” george says.

“aren’t you the one that was just begging me to do shots with you?”

“that was before you turned into a sad drunk. here,” he shuffles around for a water bottle, “drink this and go get some air—maybe a smoke, too, while you’re at it.”

grinning, matty takes the water from george’ hand with a simple “thanks.”

he sneaks away to the back porch where crickets chirp quietly in the grass—a change from the loud commotion of music and chatter.

lithe fingers bring a cigarette to chapped lips, thumb slipping on the lighter to invoke a small flicker of flames that burn the end of the bud.

with an inhale, matty wonders if his room looks the same as it did that last time he was here; if his brother had claimed any of his clothes or knick-knacks he’d left when he moved out. he wonders if you would find his room childish.

with an exhale, he wonders how his thoughts always seem to trace back to you.

“what have i told you about smoking, matthew?”

“i have a good reason.”

his mom wanders her way next to matty, leaning against the fencepost next to him. “and what might that reason be, love?”

“her,” matty breathes, the smoke from his lungs floating into the distant air. “fuck, mum. it’s always her.” he pauses to take another drag. “she hasn’t texted me all day, and i’m worried about her getting hurt or somethin’.”

denise smiles, and from the corner of his eye, he sees her turn back to the door of the house. he doesn’t follow her motions.

“i’m sure she’s fine, sweetheart,” she says, turning back. “you’ll hear from her soon.”

“but—”

she elbows matty’s side. “no ‘buts’. now, i think you should put that out and come back inside, okay? that stuff is bad for you.”

“soon,” he says, completely ignoring her request, and she sighs, giving her son a final nudge before stepping back inside. matty doesn’t spare her a glance, opting to keep his eyes trained on a black, starless sky.

the familiar buzz of red wine floats through his bloodstream, and he draws another hit into his lungs, filling the void of sadness with grey smoke. he almost thinks he’s hearing things when someone speaks from behind him.

“she’s right, y’know.”

the exhale of smoke comes out in a choked gasp, and his heart stutters, chest tightening.

matty’s scared to turn around. scared to face the cause of his well-being, because there’s no way this can be real. his lip is worried between his teeth, hair falling into his face as he stares at the cigarette laced between his thumb and index finger.

the open wound you left in his heart this morning is sealed by the resound of your voice that echoes through the air.

he doesn’t turn around. you do it for him.

matty’s forced to face you with a pull on his arm, skin tingling where your hand rests. the cigarette is plucked from his fingers seconds after, the stub dropping to the ground where you step on it to put it out.

“hi,” you say, completely and utterly exhausted. “happy birthday.”

the closeness is suffocating.

you’re standing too close but somehow too far away, and matty would pull you into him if it weren’t for the frozen state of his bones.

“hi,” matty breathes, eyes glossy with unshed tears as he stares down at you.

it’s surreal—standing here with the lingering taste of tobacco and merlot heavy on his tongue—the gentle breeze blowing tufts of your hair.

“what are you—w-when did—” matty stutters, mind running a mile a minute, intoxicated brain took over with perplexion. he stops, takes a deep breath, and collects his thoughts. “how are you here?”

“well,” you drawl, shuffling closer to the stunned man in front of you. “your parents bought me a ticket to fly out for your birthday—per george’s request. after that, all i had to do was keep it a secret, hop on a plane, and here i am.”

“here you are?” he repeats. “you had me worried sick. you didn’t text or call—hell, you didn’t even wish me a happy birthday! you can’t—you can’t just waltz in here and pretend that everything is fine when you put me through—”

“matty,” you interrupt, grabbing his hands. “calm down for me, yeah? breathe.”

“no—what? don’t just-”

he pulls away and leans back against the fence. his hands run through his hair, fingers desperately wishing they were holding a cigarette.

“breathe, matty.” you sigh patiently. “how about you give me a tour?”

“can we just … stay here for a while?” he asks, and if there’s tension in the air, it’s ignored. “i just want to make sure i’m not dreaming, or something.”

“you dream about me?’ you tease, crossing your arms to try and shield yourself from the breeze.

dark eyes slowly meet yours.

“all the time.”

he pushes himself off the fence and steps closer to you. the boots he’s wearing give him some height, so he’s looking down at you as his hands move to push your hair back.

“tell me,” you whisper. “tell me what you dream about.”

it’s the urgent tone of your hushed voice that has matty caving—hesitancy swept away with the wind as he gives in, letting his hands trace the sides of your face.

“everything,” he admits, voice quiet and shy. “fuck, love, i dream about doing everything with you. anything and everything you’d want me to.”

you’re silent.

you’re silent, and matty is losing his mind, brain pounding against his skull. he can feel bitter bile rise up his throat, nauseous when he looks back at you—just standing there—lips parted and leaving matty to lie in the grandeur of his own self-destruction.

there’s already an apology forming on his tongue, the fingers that were wound through your hair curling away.

but you step closer and grab his hands, stopping their retreat.

“i dream about it too.”

the words take matty by surprise, the tenderness that coats the revelation alleviating the shake in his hands. he looks at you—really looks at you—and scrutinizes the expression on your face.

he finds no hint of a lie; no hint of cruel duplicity, or fraud. the truth of your words really sinks in when you drop his hands in favour of running the pad of your thumbs under charcoal eyes, ridding him of the hint of tears that start to seep from puffy eyelids.

“c’mon, matty. you can’t possibly be surprised. i mean really, i dropped everything just to see you.” your tone is gentle, but a laugh sneaks its way out of your mouth and curls around matty’s head, leaving him feeling warm.

he rolls his eyes; courage slowly washes over his bones and makes his hands move to pull you in by the waist.

“shut up and kiss me.”

you surge forward, capturing his lips on your own as your hands move from his cheeks to his hair; threading them through unruly curls.

matty drinks in every noise you make, welcoming them as they leave him desperate. the taste of stale alcohol still lingers on his lips, but underneath the bitterness is you; sweet and human.

he would like to pretend that he hears fireworks when your lips part, a mess of bright, colourful explosions littering the sky as he softly licks into your mouth—but that doesn’t happen.

and it’s alright. it’s completely okay because instead of the headache-inducing light and noise, there’s the muffled laughter of his friends and family, the gentle chirp of crickets, and you.

you; gasping into the kiss.

you; your hands tugging gently at his hair.

you; flush against his chest. so close that matty can feel your heartbeat melding with his.

you; jerking away so abruptly his eyes shoot open, flickering over your—now beet-red—face.

the creak of the back door had pulled you away from him, and the sight of george standing atop the welcome mat made you flush.

“um,” he says, shuffling awkwardly. “i just wanted to say ‘hi’, but i think you welcomed her home enough for the both of us.”

matty clears his throat and grins sheepishly at a very shocked george. his cheeks burn red at being caught, but he can’t really bring himself to care—not when you’re finally next to him.

george scoffs, exasperated by his love-sick friends.

“come inside,” he urges, nodding in the direction of the house. “everyone’s excited to see her.”

matty watches as you turn back to him and give a little shrug, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth—and it’s then that he decides that he’s not done kissing you yet.

“yeah. we’ll uh—we’ll follow you.”

he leads you into the house with a hand on the small of your back, and shuts the door behind him, blocking out the sounds of lingering traffic. cheerful voices seep through the walls, and the irony of how he walked in here just a couple hours ago, saddened and heavy because of the girl who’s now looking up at him with only adoration in her eyes is not lost on matty.

“okay, denise is in there laughing about how we all tricked you into thinking the worst, so prepare to be humiliated.”

matty hums in response, staring only at the back of your head as you follow george toward the kitchen. he reaches a hand out, grabs your arm and gently tugs you back with a finger over his lips and a wink.

“mhm,” he sings, leading you slowly towards the stairs. “sounds like fun.”

he doesn’t get the chance to watch as george turns around, already halfway up the stairs with you latched onto his arm.

“you’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me.” george’s exasperated voice is the last thing he hears before he’s crowding you against the wall at the top of the stairs.

his lips are on yours before you get a second to breathe, a bruising hold on your waist as he pushes you into solid plaster. he keeps one hand on you while the other presses the wall beside your head, arm shaky as he leans his weight onto you.

there’s a light push to his chest, and you gasp under him as you pull back. matty has to refrain from groaning at the loss of pressure on his lips.

“my bags,” you pant, “i forgot them outside.”

a breath of laughter ghosts over your lips. “we can get them after.”

“but my clothes are gonna get wet—matty, the grass was wet.”

your words render useless as he leans down to plant open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

“then you can borrow some of mine,” matty mumbles, trailing his way up to your jaw to suck purple bruises into tender flesh.

at the thought of drowning in his clothes, you go lax against matty’s lips; giving in to his desperate mouth.

“okay,” you agree, and that’s all it takes for matty to recapture your mouth and let his hands wander.

calloused, gentle hands trace the curve of your body as lithe hips press into yours. he manages to tear a hand away from you to feel for the cool metal of the familiar doorknob, twisting until the door falls open.

he tugs you in with sweet urgency, his old bedroom cast in soft light, the only luminosity coming from the moon where it seeps through the blinds.

maybe it’s just the heat of the moment, or maybe you don’t care—but matty’s grateful you don’t comment on the bowie posters that grace his walls as he pushes you into the middle of his bed.

you land with a light bounce and prop yourself up onto your elbows, a cocky grin making its way onto your face. “i’ve been here for barely twenty minutes,” you breathe, gasping when matty situates himself between your legs and pushes you higher onto the mattress. “and you already wanna tear my clothes off.”

the brunet dips his fingers under the hem of your shirt, hiking it up just a sliver to catch a glimpse of soft, smooth skin. “wanted to for a while now.”

he brings the hem of the shirt up to your lips. “bite,” he whispers, voice husky.

with the new expanse of skin exposed, matty's practically left breathless. he takes tender flesh between his teeth, laps his tongue at bare and unmarred skin, and sucks until he feels you arch your back and lean into his mouth. his hands trail the expanse of your ribs, feeling the delicate bones under his touch.

marks upon marks are added to your lower stomach, matty desperately trying to leave reminders on your abdomen. his lips work on their own accord, sucking bite after bite up your torso until he lands at the base of your bra. he looks up at you, eyes questioning. laughing softly, you sit up, gently pushing him back onto his knees. dark eyes trace your body, watching as you undo your bra, slipping it off and letting it fall to the floor, along with your shirt.

the man in front of you sits in awe, and lets out a long sigh. “fuckin’ gorgeous.”

you’re not sure if the words were meant for you to hear, but you blush anyways, leaning back and letting your elbows hold your weight.

“do your worst, birthday boy.”

matty laughs, the happy—and somewhat shocked—noise echoes through the small bedroom and causes you to grin. he doesn’t hesitate to drop his head; lips meeting your warm skin, teeth leaving trails of bruises.

you gasp out breathy pleas when matty flicks his tongue over the peak of your breast. “y-your—shit,” you whine, hands landing in the man’s hair, tugging at the curls harshly. “your family is downstairs, matty. what if they—ah!—hear us?"

“don’t care,” he responds, biting softly at the pink bud and rolling the other between his index and his thumb. “want this. want you.”

”fuck. i—okay, okay. you have me, matty,” you moan, pleasure dripping from your lips. “you have me.”

he surges up to kiss you again, newfound fervour in the brush of your lips as he tilts his head to lick into your mouth. you still taste sweet, everything matty could ever ask for.

“you’re gonna have to be quiet,” he whispers, leaning back on his knees and tracing patterns over your stomach, dipping his fingers into the bruised marks just to hear the masochistic whines you let out at the pain. “as pretty as you sound, i don’t want anyone hearing us.”

hearing his words over, matty backtracks, his hand stuttering over your torso.

“i mean, not that we need to like, do anything—i’m not—i don’t wanna force you into—”

your fingers wrap around his wrist, halting his ministrations to give a comforting squeeze to his skin.

“i want to,” you breathe, using your grip around his wrist to drag his hand down your stomach to rest on your belt. “i want this.”

at your words, matty rushes to tug at the buckle, effortlessly removing your belt and tossing it to the side.

your jeans are off your hips in a second’s time, but he takes his time sliding them over your ankles, bending down to leave firm kisses on your inner thighs.

you preen under his touch, and your chest heaves as you breathe, a glistening trail of spit drying on your nipples. when the jeans are discarded and messily thrown in a pile somewhere across the tiny room, matty notices the soaked bottom of your underwear.

tracing a finger up the fabric just to watch you writhe, matty tuts. “and you thought i was eager.”

your hips jerk up in response, surprised by the soft touch. your hands fly to his hair, gripping the curls so tight that he grunts against your neck.

“jesus.”

“sorry! ‘m sorry,” you sob. you manage to relax your fingers, but matty shakes his head.

“don’t stop on my account.”

you feel his fingers slide across your damp underwear, moving to mindlessly palm your thighs as he leaves burning kisses up to where you need him most. your hips rut up, chasing his hand desperately, but matty’s not having it.

“matty, please,” you huff, tugging at his hair to try and get him where you want him.

“stop whining,” he hushes. “‘wanna take my time.”

your soft gasps and whimpers start to get to him though, and he pushes his knuckles against your pussy, forcing a shocked moan out of you.

matty shushes you because while he is completely enamoured by each noise that escapes your lips, he isn’t too keen on one of his family members walking in to see him take you apart.

you relent, and worry your bottom lip between your teeth, while matty returns to the task at hand.

“pretty,” he mumbles, slipping calloused fingers beneath the elastic band of your underwear.

he pulls to gradually reveal your soaked folds and his breath catches in his throat. at the sight, he speeds up his movements and practically rips the cloth off your legs. the material joins the jeans on the floor, and finally, he gets to see you in all your splendour.

“can i taste you?” he whispers, voice shaking. you nod, already out of it as you take the liberty of collecting all of his hair away from his face, holding it back as he works his mouth against you.

“matty, you—” you start, a hand flying from his hair to his sheets. they smell like him, but you’re trying not to think about that—trying not to think about how loopy it’s making you feel—because matty’s holding your hips up, nose bumping against your swollen clit as he tongues at your hole.

“you—” you start again, but the thought gets lost somewhere. disappears as matty does something with his tongue that makes you gasp. “jesus christ—” you huff, chest rising and falling quickly.

you get your words out before you can forget.

“fuck,” you sigh, arching your hips into his face and tightening your fist in his hair, “you look good like this.”

the praise goes straight to his head, and he’s groaning. nodding his head into you, hitting a sweet spot and almost immediately, the hand in his hair pulls him up.

“i don’t wanna cum yet,” you say, quiet because you have to be—taking account of the people downstairs. “so just, go easy on me, okay? you’re surprisingly good at this.”

“surprisingly?” matty retorts, raising an eyebrow.

you don’t have time to respond before he runs his teeth against your clit, and chides, “brat,” before tightening the grip his fingers have on your thighs, pushing the digits into your skin before shaking his head from side to side. you see black, your eyes clenched closed as you try and pull your thighs together, but matty pushes them open, desperately lapping at you.

his jaw aches as his mouth moves, but your pleasure is all he knows. even though you asked so nicely for matty to not yet make you cum—the question is nothing but a distant memory in the back of his mind.

he flattens his tongue and guides it up, sliding across your slit before enveloping your clit in his mouth and sucking—forcing a strong, white current to wash over you. your hands shoot up to cover your mouth as you arch into his mouth, breathlessly stuttering his name as you come.

can’t talk, can’t speak.

the feeling is too overwhelming, too all-consuming before the come down eventually starts and words are coming out, your body shaking with the effort to stay quiet; muffled whimpers sounding behind tight fingers.

you hitch your hips up, and matty’s moving with them, basically getting onto his knees to keep you close. “holy fuck,” you breathe, looking down between your tits to where he’s kissing away your slick, only letting go when you shove your hands down between your thighs, nerves shot and sensitive.

“mmh,” you whimper, clamping your thighs together, trying to calm yourself down.

“you with me?” he asks, tucking his damp curls behind his ears. you have to laugh. have to laugh all of this pent-up emotion out as you brush stray hairs from your face.

“yeah,” you nod breathlessly. matty kisses you with a smile and you taste yourself on him. his features go goofy when he raises a brow and asks, “good?”

“fucking amazing.”

“good,” he says again, then rolls onto his back beside you. he’s unbuttoning his shirt, saying, “i aim to please,” when you’re crawling your body up his chest and kissing the shock away from his face.

“oh fuck,” he curses, fumbling to grab a hold of you. you slide your fingers onto the side of his head and taste yourself, mixed with the feel of his swollen, curving lips as he smiles against you. desperation sweeps over you, and you cup a hand over the bulge in his pants, grinding your palm down, and matty has to focus really hard to not give into your touch.

regrettably, he pries your hand away, bringing it to his mouth and kissing each one of your fingers with sentimental ease. “wanna fuck you,” he mutters, playfully biting at your ring finger until you laugh and pull your hand away.

“come on,” you drawl, moving to sit directly on his bulge. “it’s your birthday. don’t you want me to blow you?”

you have a point, matty supposes. his birthday is supposed to be the one day of the year when he gets to be selfish, and what kind of person would he be if he passed up the opportunity to feel your lips around him?

but you’re his gift. tasting you and making you cum from his mouth alone is a better present than he could have ever asked for, and matty thinks he can afford to be greedy tonight.

but to him, being greedy isn’t fucking your throat until pretty tears fall down your cheeks—he can do that another time. greedy, to matty, is taking another orgasm from you, just so he can hear the way his name sounds when curled around your tongue.

he makes quick work of slipping off the mattress and taking off the white button-up and trousers, leaving him in only his boxers.

“i’m not lettin’ you suck me off.” he smirks.

“what? why not?” you move to the edge of the bed, a look of confusion dancing on your features as you run a finger up matty’s exposed thigh. “don’t you want me to?”

it’s hard not to give in when you tease the waistband of his boxers, the light chatter rumbling from downstairs a distant memory as he loses himself in the feeling of cold fingers slipping under the elastic band. leaning forward, you press leisurely kisses against the brunet’s torso.

he allows you to mouth at his abdomen, welcomes the gentle bite when you pull skin between your teeth; a swirl of possessiveness ravishing deep in his bones when he realizes that you’re is trying to match the heart-shaped hickeys that taint your own body.

matty breaks out of his trance when you roll his boxers down until the cloth lies in a pile around his ankles. goosebumps rise to his skin and he can feel his legs begin to tremble.

before you have the chance to take his cock into your mouth, matty takes hold of your hair, and gently pulls you back.

“i said you’re not blowin’ me,” he mutters, leaning over your body until you’re forced to lay flat on the mattress, legs dangling off the edge and chest heaving at the proximity. “i know what i want for my birthday, and it’s not that.”

with a fluid movement, he flips your positions and settles against the headboard, letting you settle on his lap. his hands explore your body, nails occasionally scratching you—making you shiver.

“i want you. i want you as mine, and i want you to ride me, right here.”

matty laughs at your wide eyes, brushes sweaty hair out of your face, and relishes in the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other. he’s painfully hard, and every time you shift just a fraction of an inch, it tugs a shaky breath from his throat.

“alright,” you say, pressing a chaste kiss to matty’s lips. “do you have any condoms then?”

his hand reaches out to his bedside table. “in the drawer.”

you lean to grab it for him, and matty’s kissing you the entire time. over your chest, collarbones, shoulders, and neck as you push around his drawer, saying “you have so much shit in here.”

he turns to look. turns back to your neck. “in the back,” and he’s kissing you again, palming your ass. he slides his hands lower and bumps them against your sensitive clit, making you gasp, clutching onto the wood.

matty fucking laughs.

you shake your head. “you’re an arse.”

“you’re very distracting,” he admits.

you finally find the box, and with a packet in hand, you look down to where matty’s cock lays on his stomach, a bead of precum leaking onto his abdomen. “shit, you’re big.”

matty smirks, cocky. “think you can take it?”

huffing, you slide the condom down onto him slower than necessary. his cocky smirk dies immediately when you suck your cheeks together and allow a pool of spit to spill from your lips.

“gonna try,” you say, slicking up matty’s cock with a thick coat of saliva still partially strung to your lips, the friction slow enough for him to buck his hips and try to fuck your fist to get needed stimulation.

“tease,” he manages to choke out before you sink down onto him, hips flexing back so he slides all the way in. as soon as you bottom out, matty groans long and hard, and his head falls into the crook of your shoulder.

you don’t let him know when you’re ready, only lifting yourself up so matty can feel the drag of his cock along your insides, gasping as pleasure clouds your mind. shaky limbs help you in slamming back down, the legs of the bed creaking with the force of your bodies colliding.

”fuck,” matty moans, hands scrambling to find purchase on your waist. you sound fucked out already, blissful sighs breathed into matty’s hair. “you okay?”

you sit up again, the tip of matty’s cock catching on your folds before you lower yourself again, stuttered curses leaving your mouth.

“mhm, m’fine. y-you’re just,” you sob, trailing off and rolling your hips forward, letting matty’s cock grind against your sensitive bundle of nerves. you swallow, the sound resonating in matty’s ears as he aids your movements with a firm grip on your waist. “big.”

matty’s ego swells and he pulls you down hard on his dick, making you feel just how big he can be. it causes you to shake your head quickly.

“fuck! n-not so fast, please.”

“oh baby,” he soothes, palms sliding to grip your ass, and he uses his hold on you to fuck up into you, keeping a simple rhythm—cock hitting a part of you that makes you sob. makes you collapse against his chest, and you stuff your head into his neck and just take it.

“there?” matty asks with a twinge of something sadistic. “want me to fuck you there?”

“yeah, yeah, please—close, matty, ‘m so close.”

to try and lessen the noise, matty grabs your face and pulls you down into a bruising kiss. he swallows every sound, loving the way you struggle to kiss him back as your legs tremble.

“close already, huh?” he whispers against your lips, drinking in every soft moan that escapes your throat.

and it’s meant to be playful, something that he can tease you about later—but with the way his name is repeated in a fucked out voice, he’s sure he’ll forget to do that later.

so he relents, fucking into you with calculated thrusts, hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

your thighs ache, and the edge is so close all you can do is take what he’s giving you and whine his name pathetically.

it hits you all at once.

a white-hot heat reaches up and grabs you and you clench so fucking tight around his cock that matty falters.

he’s losing his goddamn mind. head tilted back against the headboard, he’s trying to hold back pathetic whimpers, but when your eyes roll to the back of your head and your lashes flutter shut, matty lets out a sob as he comes, rutting his hips into you as your body shakes.

your body shakes with overstimulation as matty moves you against him, milking his orgasm and running sharp nails down your sweat-ridden back.

after the comedown, you breathe out a sigh. matty’s kissing your neck. gently pecking at the hot skin, before spreading his kisses over your jaw, towards your mouth.

“how was that?” he asks, tracing a calloused finger over the marks that litter your body. they turn a deeper shade of purple when his touch lingers for too long, and he grins as you squirm in his grasp.

“i think you already know,” you quip, frowning.

“maybe. but i wanna hear you say it.”

you don’t dignify him with a response, instead shaking your head and lifting yourself off his cock, wincing at the sudden emptiness.

“cold?” matty asks. you nod and curl into yourself as he gets up to rummage through his old closet.

once you’re fully dressed, in clothes albeit a bit big on you, matty helps you stand from the bed and pulls you into a hug—your first proper embrace since you’ve been here—and rests his chin atop your knotted hair.

you hum into his chest, wrapping your fingers behind his back and trace swirls over his bare skin.

“i’m glad you’re here,” he says, pressing a kiss to your crown and pulling back to find his pants. “i don’t know if i actually told you that, yet.”

“i kinda figured you were—what with how fast you stopped crying when you saw me.”

“hey,” matty points an accusatory finger at you, but there’s no malice behind it. “you can’t blame me for bein’ upset, i thought you forgot my birthday.”

together, you fix the pillows and smooth over crumpled sheets, returning the room to the way it was before the kisses, the sex, and you.

“matty, when have i ever forgotten your birthday?”

before leaving the room, you try to smooth out your hair, carding a hand through matty’s as well so it isn’t too obvious what you’ve been doing for the last hour—though you’re sure george has a hunch.

the minute you step into the kitchen, with matty close behind, you see george down the rest of his beer and make his way over to you.

“so,” he drawls, a shit-eating grin spread across his face as he eyes you two up and down. “what have you guys been doin’?”

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1K notes · View notes

bandgie · 8 months

Text

Before Class

virgin!hueningkai x fem!reader

synopsis: You were Kai's lifelong bully, and you weren't planning on stopping your harassment towards him. As you have got older though, you've had to change your strategies. Now that you're both in college, there been quite a few tips you've learned on how to humiliate Kai.

warnings: MDNI 18+, DUBIOUS, college au, public oral (m receiving), handjob, bully reader, kai is sensitive (he doesn't have a backbone), cum eating, degrading, genital degradation (m receiving), begging, dom!reader, sub!Kai, mentions of Yeonjun, idk

2.6k words

Getting to class early was a must, parking was horrible after a certain time. You sat on the second floor of the library pretending to work on your assignments. Instead, you were observing his large frame hunched over a desk. Kai hadn't seen you when he walked in, and you're grateful for that. Not because you were nervous or embarrassed for what you did to him just a few days ago, but because it left you room to plan.

Making Huening Kai cry was always a goal of yours. It was so easy when you were in elementary school. All you had to do was pull on his hair, throw some sand in his eyes and the waterworks would begin. As you've gotten older though, it wasn't as simple. You resorted to cursing him out, getting other kids to join in on you, but he was a tough cookie.

There was just something about his tears that excited you. How red his nose got, the quiver in his bottom lip. Like art honestly, he was beautiful in his rawest form. There was something wrong with you for sure, maybe you needed to see someone for your obsession with Kai. How could you though, when he made it so effortless for you to keep harassing him?

You briefly thought of letting him go today, but your resolve was quickly dissipated when someone approached him. She was cheery, seemingly happy looking at Kai. He stood up quickly and awkwardly smiled at her. You assumed she must be a classmate talking about work, but when she made him laugh, your chest tightened.

They had to be more than classmates, it wasn’t like it was often someone would approach you outside of class either. Friends maybe? But with how pink Kai's cheeks had gotten, you think there might be a little crush going on. You hastily pack your papers, shove your notebook and folder into your backpack and standup from your table.

Jealousy is probably the right word to use, but there was no way you would admit that. You just can’t stand seeing Kai smiling, hate how his lips curl and his teeth shine in the artificial light. He would look much better sobbing, and you are planning on making that happen sooner rather than later.

Your wedges click on the ground as you approach the two. You can feel your blood rising hearing Kai's soft responses. You don't even need to speak to announce your arrival, you can see Kai's eyes widen in fear.

Good.

"Oh Kai! I just wanted to pop in and say hi," you smile sweetly at both of them. She spins to see you, returning a friendly smile. She opens her mouth to speak, mostly likely to introduce herself, but you don't think you can fake your persona much longer. "I just needed to steal him from you if you don't mind." You reach for Kai's sleeve and pull him towards you.

He hesitantly trudges to you, his eyes begging at his friend to save him. "Oh when were you going to be done? We had to work on-" You spare her a glance to interrupt her, "Actually, I think it'll take a while. Isn't that right Hyuka?"

Kai stiffens at the sound of his nickname, one he hadn't heard in years. His terrified eyes dart to your own before turning back to his friend. "Y-Yeah," his voice is shaky. "I'm sorry, it'll just be a- a moment. I'll catch you after class." The girl eyes you warily, her gaze landing on your grip on Kai's sleeve. Rather than voicing her concern, she nods, "Sure. See ya soon then.”

You turn on your heels and pull Kai along with you. Kai can easily keep up thanks to his long legs, but he's trying to subtly slow his steps so he can delay his bad treatment. He has no idea what you have in store for him, and to be honest, neither do you. All you can think about is how easily he spoke to her, how eager he seemed. Kai has grown into an attractive man, that much you can admit. You just hate knowing he's beginning to catch the eyes of others.

It's selfish, but you want him to think about only you. Whether it's from fear, anxiety, hatred, you need him to think about you as often as you think about him. After all, it isn't fair that you're the only one obsessed.

You spot the all-gender restroom and quickly take cover there. There’s nobody inside, it’s still early in the morning. You shove Kai into a stall and squeeze/crowd in yourself before locking the door.

Being this close to him is nothing new, but being in such a confined space is definitely something you hadn't done before. Kai's figure towers over you, he could easily overpower you and leave. Instead, he keeps his hand by his sides and nervously eyes you. He's expecting you to berate him, to remind him of what a loser he is and how no one could ever stand the thought of him.

Instead, you drop to your knees. Kai's eyes widen in disbelief. You grab his belt, quickly loosening it. He moves to block you, gently pulling your hands away. "What are you doing!? Wait! Don't-" You look up at him and sneer, "Don't fucking tell me what to do. Move your hands."

For the first time in ages, Kai disobeys. He shakes his head and locks his arms over his crotch. "You can't," his voice is pleading. "I have to go to class, an-and I haven't... no one’s really..." He trails off. The redness in his face says it all. "Oh I get it," you smirk. "Are you a little virgin?"

At first Kai doesn't answer, but the pinch of your nails on his hands make him yelp. "Y-Yes..." his voice is small, weak. It sends shivers down your spine. You peel his hands away and leave them at his sides. He lets you, too petrified from his confession to really care anymore.

"I shouldn't be surprised," you start. "You're probably too busy jerking off, watching porn like a loser. I bet you don't even have feeling in your dick anymore." You unloop his belt from the holes and slowly unbutton his pants. Kai clenches and unclenches his fists. You can hear him breathing heavily above you, and as pathetic as it is, it turns you on.

You pull his pants all the way down to his ankles and face his navy blue boxers. Experimentally, you let your hand rub over his crotch. You grip and rub over his limp dick, hearing him inhale sharply. "You're liking this huh? Hah, telling me to stop when you wanted it the whole time." Rather than answering, Kai bucks his hips to you.

You laugh at him, still making sure to apply pressure to his groin. "Fucking slut, bet you'd let anyone touch your cock. That lonely huh?" You grab the waistband of his boxers with your other hand. He stops you before you can pull them down. "Please," he begs. You look up at his glossy eyes, his sweaty forehead, the hair sticking so prettily to it.

Growing irritated with his refusals, you give a soft flick to his cock. Kai jolts at the sensation, even whimpers from pain. "Ask me that again, I'll bite it off," you threaten. This time he doesn’t fight when you pull his dick out. The space between your legs throb at the sight, and you lick your lips eagerly.

His cock is twitching from stimulation, a flushed pink at the tip. There are a few blue veins that pop out from the paleness, a stark contrast to the dark pubes above it. At least he trims, you think. You didn't want pubic hair stuck in your teeth once you were finished with him.

Kai's legs tremble in anticipation, and you run your hands up and down his thighs. You carefully take his tip in first, letting the salty precum cover your tastebuds. The warmth of your mouth has Kai jolt, the feeling completely foreign to him. You steady yourself on his upper thighs as you start taking him deeper. The back of your throat opens for more room, and it doesn't take long to feel him stretch it out.

Your movements are slow as you drag your lips down Kai's length. His cock feels smooth in your mouth, and you place your tongue on the underside of him. He groans when you deep throat him, and his hips slightly thrust upwards to chase your mouth. A surprised gasp tumbles out of your mouth from the force, making you pull away completely.

You angrily look up at Kai's flushed face, "Did I say you could move?" Kai lets out a soft sob and shakes his head, "No! I'm sorry. Oh fuck I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." You can see the tears in his eyes, the blush on his face. It's tempting to keep making him feel bad, to get those salty tears down his face, but you take pity on him. Your hand reaches for his dick and gives it a few pumps.

He twitches and moans, still apologizing for his behavior. "I'll let it go this time since you're a virgin or whatever," you start. "But do that again and I'll leave you with your small dick like this, and no one will help you out like I am." Kai nods absentmindedly, his focus completely on your fingers.

It's hard to admit, but you really like hearing Kai moan. His breathless whimpers, his choked sobs, the way he says your name like he's begging you to stop and keep going. There was no way, after years of bullying Kai, that you would willingly place yourself between his legs. Yet here you are, knees bruising up from the hard tile and your pussy throbbing from neglect.

A wet sound comes out when you place his cock back where it was in your mouth. It's lewd, but the noise is easily drained out by Kai's groans of appreciation. You can tell he's focusing on remaining still with the way his hands are bunching up his shirt. A smile finds your lips when a harsh suck makes his cries echo in the bathroom.

"You're lucky no one's in here," you say when you briefly pull away. One hand strokes him and the other plays with his balls simultaneously. "Imagine if that bitch saw you now? You think she'd still like you after seeing what a whore you are?" Kai shakes his head at your questions. "N-No."

You hum in satisfaction with his admission, placing kisses on his cock. Before you have the chance to take him back in your mouth, you hear the door to the restroom open. Footsteps echo through the previously empty room, and Kai looks like he's seen a ghost. He looks down at you, a small desperate shake in his head. Don't.

You only grin in response, eagerly forcing his cock down your throat. Kai jolts and his mouth flies open in a silent moan. Your movements are much faster now, magnifying the pornographic noises coming from your mouth. You push even further. You unhinge your jaw and take him deep, bruising the back of your throat.

Kai's pubes tickle your nose when you hit his pelvis, and you gag around his girth. Spit dribbles down your chin, landing on your thighs and the floor. You feel nothing but arousal when you realize the unsuspecting witness has stopped moving, attentively listening to the lewd sounds echoing from your stall.. Kai notices too and shakes his head aggressively. He can’t control the tears collecting at the corner of his eyes anymore, sending waves of pleasure to your core.

"If you're gonna fuck, can you do it somewhere else? People are tryna piss," the bystander finally calls out. You recognize the voice immediately, and so does Kai. Yeonjun sounds rather irritated, not bothering to wait for a reply as he leaves. Kai slumps in relief when he hears the restroom door swing shut again, only managing to let out a groan when he tries to speak.

Even without the extra audience you still put your best show on for Kai. Your fingernails are gripping his thighs, drool hanging off your bottom lip as you keep throatfucking yourself on Kai's dick. Kai bites his lower lip so harshly he thinks it'll bleed, but that pain is nothing compared to the pleasure you're giving him.

You can feel your arousal seep through your underwear, down the inner parts of your thighs. You think about fucking him, how good his cock would feel stretching you out. He probably wouldn't even know how to fuck you right. You might have to bounce on his cock while he sits on the toilet. As dirty as that thought is, there's more pleasure in watching Kai writhe above you.

His length twitches in your mouth. You use your hand to stroke the parts your mouth can't reach, and you maintain a steady rhythm. Kai's whines get more and more out of control and without thinking, he brushes the hair out of your face. There's a delicate moment when he locks eyes with you, making sure to get a good look at your face as he cums in your mouth.

The hot spurts make you gag, but you force your mouth to stay on his cock so as to not waste a single drop. Kai looks like bliss with his eyes slanted and mouth open in a long moan. He’s still looking at you, almost as if he actually wants to see you. The thought makes your stomach flip.

You purposely take a long time pulling your mouth off his cock, his cum still settling in your mouth. Your knees scream in protest as you stand to face Kai. You wrap your hand at the back on his neck and drag him down to your height. Your other hand finds his mouth and pulls it open as you purse your lips.

"Say ahh..."

Kai's cum leaks from your mouth in thick globs, landing on his tongue. He grimaces at the taste but keeps still. His lips are so close to your own, and for a second you debate kissing him. But then you’d miss how he swallows his own cum, how he would cough as the thick substance slides down his throat.

You spit the remaining cum into his mouth before licking your own lips. Kai covers his mouth and squeezes his eyes as he tries to swallow it all without gagging, tears sliding down his face. Your thumb wipes one away and you bring it to your mouth, adding to the salty taste.

"It tasted good huh, Hyuka?"

He opens his eyes and shakes his head pitifully, making you laugh. You do the honors of pulling Kai's pants and boxers back up and adjusting his belt. You tap his clothed cock a few times just to see him flinch from the sensitivity.

Your cunt is still sopping wet, crying to be touched. You might have to ignore it for now, but you know this won't be the last time you play with Kai. Kai silently watches as you pull your makeup out of your bag, fascinated by how quickly you make yourself look normal again despite being wrecked on his cock mere moments ago.

You snap your mirror closed and open the stall door, sauntering away without a second look. "Better get to class then Hyuka. You don’t wanna be late.”

a/n: I love huening kai and I feel like there's not enough writings about him!! I'm planning on making this a little series, so stay tuned for that!

proofreader/editor: @then-make-me (thank you!!)

update!: second part here

update 2: third part here

494 notes · View notes

talesofesther · 2 years

Text

cross my heart (and hope to die)

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Every time Steve gets hurt, you're there to help pick up the pieces; you just weren't expecting him to fall for you in the process.

A/N: Steve my beloved <3. Hope you guys like this one, it started as one thing and took a massive turn as I was writing it, anyway, I think it turned out good? Let me know. Any flashbacks are in italics.

Word count: 8,9k

Masterlist

Hospital hallways had a knack for looking and feeling like the perfect setting for a horror movie, especially on nights like these, where said hallways were mostly empty. It was a good thing, for a hospital not to be crowded, but with the cold air, the white walls and tiles, the lonely chairs beside the snack machine, and the only company in sight being the receptionist; your skin was constantly crawling with goosebumps.

Your sneakers were scratching against the recently mopped floor, the pungent smell of disinfectant made you scrunch your nose. It was a bit of a sight, your jeans and red flannel under the white doctor's coat your mother insisted you wore. That's probably why you hardly told people about it.

In your hands, you held two patient records, one for the kid who annoyed the hell out of you, and the other for the old woman who told you all about her cactuses and succulents. As you reached the receptionist's counter, you slid the two papers over to the older woman, who was stacking a few files of her own. "Hey Claire, these are from the ones who got out today."

"Thank you Y/N, tell your mother to come to see me before she leaves okay?"

"Will do." You tapped the counter and were about to turn and leave when the main glass doors were pushed open.

You were greeted with a sight you weren't expecting to see today; Steve Harrington walking through the hospital doors, the bright artificial lights illuminating his beat-up face. One of his eyes was swollen and there was a good amount of blood on his cheek, lips, and nose, his knuckles were bruised as well and he walked with hunched shoulders. You never expected to see Steve trying to make himself look smaller.

And you must be looking at him with quite the face because from one glance at you he quickly averted his eyes, fumbling with the zipper on his jacket as he reached the counter.

You cursed under your breath for your lack of manners, and awkwardly hovered by the end of the counter. Why you stayed? You couldn't tell.

Steve and you weren't friends, maybe it would be a stretch to even say you were colleagues. You shared a few classes with him, had been put together in some group projects but that was about it. He had been enough of a douche lately for you to not pay much attention, or, at least he walked with the kind of people that were massive douches back at school.

Carefully laying his hands on top of the counter, Steve leaned forward, licking his lips before he addressed Claire. "Hi, I was- I was kind of hoping to get this looked at." He vaguely gestured to his face.

Claire looked at him from over her glasses, a frown on her lips from a lifetime of dealing with teenage drama. She nodded, and made quick work of making a patient record for him.

It took maybe a minute, but the silence that engulfed the reception hall of the hospital was heavily awkward. Claire wrote calmly with her pen, you found the stain on your sneakers to be really interesting all of a sudden, and Steve was shuffling in his stance, his fingers tapping the counter in an unsteady rhythm.

"Y/N, will you please?" Claire's voice made you snap your gaze up to her. She was handing you his new record.

"Sure." You nodded, already knowing the routine. You took the paper and forced your gaze to meet the one from the boy next to you.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Follow me."

The room she assigned to Steve was a bit of a walk, and he followed you through the hospital hallways in silence for about twenty seconds.

"I didn't know you worked at a hospital."

You knew it was coming, you saw the curiosity swimming in his eyes. Your lips quirked up slightly. "I volunteer. My mom works here."

Steve's lips parted in a silent 'oh', he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and walked faster to fall into step beside you. "That's cool."

"I guess, for the most part, it is." You fumbled with the paper in your hands, feeling his eyes on your profile.

"Do you also help in surgeries and stuff?"

You chuckled, "no, I don't. I help with the more simple stuff… Uh- organizing materials, checking in on patients, keeping company, taking them to their rooms." You glanced at him with a smile. Tentative, only to see what kind of person you had in your hands.

And when you were met with a chuckle and a smile of his own, you figured he was more approachable when alone.

Just before reaching the room assigned to him, you passed by a snack machine. Steve's face lit up in a way that reminded you of the little kids you're always escorting around, one hand already fishing for his wallet. "Can I?" He pointed a finger at the old thing.

"Yeah, go ahead." You shrugged, leaning against the wall while he picked what to eat. You selfishly allowed yourself to look at him then. It was no secret that he was handsome, the fact that most of your friends were swooning over him was proof enough, but there was something different about seeing him here and now; alone in a hospital hallway with blood staining his shirt and a gash on his lip that reopened when he smiled as his snack fell from the machine.

He hummed when he took the first bite, closing his eyes momentarily. "You want one too?" He asked with a full mouth.

Your eyebrows shot up at his offer, you almost took too long to answer. "Uh no, I'm good."

The room you took him to was one of the smaller ones, with just one bed, but it had a window and a TV, so that was a plus for him. After telling Steve he could sit on the bed to wait for a proper doctor, you couldn't help but ask; "what happened to you?"

Steve's expression fell, he scoffed and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "Isn't it obvious?"

Technically, it was. Someone beat him up. But who would dare to beat up the king of Hawkins High?

A lone droplet of blood escaped his nose, he was quick to wipe it away with the sleeve of his jacket. "I did something stupid, or at least didn't stop it from happening, and got what I deserved I guess."

You tilted your head with a frown, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you looked at him. "Why'd you do it, the stupid thing?"

"I was angry, and hurt… There's this girl and I…" He sighed, shaking his head. His legs swung back and forth while he picked at the white sheets. "It's stupid."

You would agree, if you two were closer. You would tell him that it's not worth it and he will only end up hurt. You had seen Steve and Nancy Wheeler being cozy together in school earlier this week; you also saw her running off with Jonathan earlier today. It was easy to guess.

"For what's worth," you set his record on the clip at the foot of his bed, "I think she'll come around." Walking backwards to the door you gave him a wink. "And you'll be okay, wounds like that tend to heal pretty fast."

Steve had a lazy smile on his lips, a look in his eyes you couldn't figure out. "Yeah? You promise?"

With one hand on the doorknob, you gave him a cheeky smile of your own. "Cross my heart," you traced an 'x' over your heart, "and hope to die." Your voice held an overly dramatic tone for a promise you didn't believe in. But for some reason, you wanted him to believe it. You wanted him to believe in a reality where hearts didn't get broken and stomped over.

And Steve chuckled again just before you left his room. The somber expression he walked in with was gone, in its place laid newfound hope, and while fragile, it was there.

______

After your encounter with Steve at the hospital, he surprised you by seeking you out at school. You shared a good amount of classes, and given that he stopped being friends with Tommy and Carol overnight, it was only natural for him to stick with you. You were well on your way to call each other friends. He became a constant part of your day over the last months.

And now, on Halloween night, part of you regretted giving him hope with that one promise. Gossip moved fast on a house filled with teens, a whispered comment here, a mocking laugh there, and soon everyone was aware that Nancy dumped Steve.

It was ugly, and that's why you avoided places like these, but someone convinced you to attend this one party;

"So, what are you going as?" Steve asked as he stuffed his books inside his backpack. He sat beside you, as he usually did nowadays.

The classroom was slowly emptying as you got up from your chair, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Tina's Halloween party, what are you going as?"

You scoffed. As if. "I'm not going to that."

You made to walk past him, but he got up and took hold of your backpack, forcing you to halt on your steps.

"What do you mean you're not going? Of course you're going."

Why he wanted you there so much was beyond you, he had Nancy for christ's sake. You sighed, giving up on trying to brush through the conversation like you'd been doing for the whole week. "Why would I go there? To drink cheap beer in a house full of sweaty and handsy people?"

Steve's hand landed on your elbow, a gentle touch that you were well too aware of. "To have fun, I mean, do you ever get out?"

Your face scrunched up as if he'd insulted you. "I go out."

"Hospital work and school don't count."

You slapped his hand away with a chuckle, ducking your head and walking to the door because the teacher was already giving you a side eye for still being in the empty classroom. "I go out, okay pretty boy? I'm just not a fan of those types of… parties."

Steve fell into step beside you, it was strange how normal it was becoming to have his shoulder bumping into yours as you walked, how his presence became something you missed when he wasn't around. "I know but, it's our last chance at those, right? It'll be fun, just this once. I'll pick up Nance and, if you want, we can pass by your house too."

No one could convince you to go, no one ever did, because you really didn't like going to high school parties. But he managed, maybe it was the crinkle in his eyes when he smiled, or the way his hair fell over his forehead as he skipped in front of you.

"Why do you want me there so badly?" You dared to ask, leaning your back against the brick wall of the school's hallway.

Steve's lips hovered open for a moment in dangerous silence, before he shrugged and averted his gaze. "I just want you to have fun."

"Okay. But I'm not dressing up as anything."

Steve walked out of the bathroom with a tightness on his chest that went all the way up to his throat and made it hard to breathe. Bullshit. Maybe she was right, but it didn't stop the hurting.

He was searching for you amongst the crowd before he even realized it. The party was still going full force, loud music now annoying to his ears as he squeezed his way between the drunk students.

Everyone was looking at him, girls whispering in each other's ears as he walked by. Steve put his sunglasses back on, he knew there were tears pooling on the bottom lid of his eyes and he'd be damned if anyone saw it.

You found him before he found you. He felt your reassuring touch on his black blazer and he knew it was you before he even saw you. He didn't allow himself to think about it.

"Hey," you closed a hand around his wrist, taking his hand felt way too intimate, "you okay?"

It was a dumb question and you cursed yourself for asking it. Comforting people was definitely not your expertise.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, his fingers grasping the ends of it as he sighed.

"Why don't we get out of here? I could use some fresh air." You suggested, because Steve looked like a lost puppy right now, everyone was doing a poor job of pretending not to look at him and you saw Nancy going off with Jonathan just a minute ago.

"Yeah, you're right." Steve hated how his voice broke, but he was so damn grateful that you were there; otherwise, he'd be on his own, and that's the last thing he wanted right now. You guided him to the door and out the house, the cold air outside was welcoming.

The door closed behind you, muffling the music coming from inside the house. There were a few people hanging out on the lawn, but not nearly as much.

Steve stumbled his way to the sidewalk, he took off his glasses and let them fall on the grass. "I'm guessing you already heard about it."

You'd never heard him sound so defeated. He had a hand over his eyes, breathing erratic. You wondered if this was his first heartbreak. "Yeah, I think everyone did."

When he didn't answer, you crouched down to pick up his sunglasses, putting them on top of your head as you walked beside him with a hand extended to him. "Give me your keys."

Steve wiped his eyes before looking at you with a frown. "What?"

And damn him and those big, sad, and gentle eyes of his. "We're getting out of here, come on." You wiggled your fingers, not giving him much room for argument.

Part of you knew it was a dangerous game to play. Caring about him could end badly for your side, and it's not like you were eager to get hurt. But you knew Steve enough to know that he had no one; absent parents, no more asshole friends, and now, no Nancy. It hit you like a ton of bricks that maybe, you were the only person he had left.

You figured that as long as you keep any rogue feelings in control, you'd be fine.

Famous last words.

Despite better judgment, you got into his car with him on the passenger's seat and drove to a place you liked to call peaceful — not before stopping at a convenience store and picking up a cheap bottle of wine.

The playground was deserted at this time of night; thanks to a clear sky, the moon provided some light, along with the street lamps. The place stood on a patch of grass, surrounded by a few trees, and given that it was a little way up, it gave you a good view of a part of Hawkins.

You sat down on one of the swings and waited for Steve to join you. Wine bottle in one hand as the other held onto the rusty chain.

"A playground?" Steve asked, sitting down on the swing beside yours.

You pushed yourself back and forth with your feet, turning your head up to look at the blanket of stars above you. "Mhmm." You hummed. "It can be pretty peaceful without annoying kids running around."

Steve chuckled, and you took it as a win already. He copied your movements, swinging himself lazily. His mind was cluttered, but if it wasn't, he'd know you were right.

Crickets were singing tonight, along with the creaking of the moving swings and the wind rustling leaves from time to time. In front of you, Hawkins was nothing but patches of light in the distance.

Popping open the bottle, you took a sip before passing it to Steve, alcohol burning on your tongue.

He drank it eagerly, taking about three big gulps of the wine.

"Easy there, dude," you giggled, snatching the bottle from him and setting it beside you.

"You come here often?" Steve asked quietly, eyes fixed ahead of him.

"That sounds like a horrible pick-up line." You teased, leaning your head towards him.

Steve felt his cheeks burning, he was glad for the lack of lighting. "I wasn't-"

"I know what you meant," you smiled, averting your gaze from him, "don't worry."

Gripping tighter onto the chain that held up his swing, Steve mumbled; "right."

"I usually come here to relax, or when I have too much on my mind," you glanced down, the tip of your sneakers brushing over the grass, "like I said, it… feels peaceful sometimes."

Steve nodded, pursing his lips. For a long moment he was quiet, and then;

"I think she doesn't love me anymore."

You turned to him slowly. The pain was evident in his voice, eyes downcast and you saw the outline of his lower lip trembling. You wanted to reach out, but didn't.

"I'm starting to think that… maybe she never did love me." He shrugged, trying to play off his pain.

"Don't say that." You uttered.

There was a lump on his throat that Steve gulped down, his knuckles going white around the chains. His words turned to a whisper because if he spoke louder, he'd break. "I think she was mad about what happened to Barbara but…" He sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand, "whatever, I'll just- just try to make things right I guess."

You frowned at that, it's not like you could do much with the crumbs of information he gave you, but it didn't feel like he should be the one saying sorry. Not the only one at least.

Turns out Steve was more observant than you thought. "You don't think I should do it." He noted, after his gaze landed on you.

You squirmed in your seat, moving your hands up on the chain and giving your body a swing. "I- I think that sometimes… love is not worth the risk." You chanced a look at him, "but that's just me, okay?" You were quick to add. "I think you should do what your heart tells you. What feels right, you know?"

Picking up the bottle of wine, you took a bigger sip this time. Letting the burn of the alcohol wash away the bitter taste of your words.

You passed it to Steve, and when his fingers closed around the bottle, they grazed yours. "Thank you, for being here and all."

Bumping his shoes with yours, you said; "anytime." And you surprised yourself by meaning it.

______

It was odd enough to see Steve walking through the hospital doors with a bloody face once, and you weren't expecting it to happen a second time. But it did.

You were about to go home for the night when you saw his red BMW being parked in the hospital's parking lot. The glass doors shut behind you with a click and you took a couple of steps forward with a frown on your face. Dark clouds, bringing rain most likely, loomed above you in the night sky.

It was dark out, only a few lamps from the parking lot providing light, but you saw Steve stepping out of his car with a bit of difficulty and heaviness to his movements.

He smiled when he saw you standing in front of those doors, the bright interior of the hospital's reception outlining your silhouette, making his sore feet work and carry him to you. If he was being completely honest with himself, it wasn't his plan to come to the hospital, not after the exhausting night he just had. But his hands on the wheel subconsciously turned the street to where he knew you would be.

Steve stopped in front of you, cheeks scraped and beaten, blood smudged under his nose, and bruises already forming under the floral bandaid he had on his forehead. You raised your arms halfway with an incredulous look on your face, "what the hell Harrington? You're even worse than last time."

It wasn't fair for you to be attractive while scolding him. He chuckled, the motion making his probably fractured nose sting. "You can thank Hargrove for that."

The fatigue from the last days was finally catching up with Steve, he closed his eyes with a shaky sigh, feeling as if he was about to pass out; and he must have looked the part too, because the next thing he felt was your hands holding him up and guiding him inside the hospital.

You didn't bother with stopping in the reception to grab him a record, you could worry about that later. Now, you guided him to the closest room available, worry bubbling in your stomach.

"I knew that guy was trouble from the moment he showed up," you grumbled, helping Steve to sit up on the hospital bed, "but why did he… do this to you?" One of your hands remained on his elbow, the other hovering over his bruised cheek as you stood in front of him.

Steve shook his head dismissively, "it's a long story." He couldn't pull his gaze away from you, he wanted to smooth the crease of your eyebrows with his thumb.

You didn't press him into telling you, your fingers brushed over his arm and down to his hand. When your skin touched his, you pulled away. "I'll call a doctor for you." You told him quietly.

Goosebumps erupted on Steve's body, and the thought of you leaving was suddenly unbearable. "You could do it too though, right?"

You turned back to him with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean, it's simple enough?" His hands gripped the edge of the bed as he spoke.

The hospital room was quiet, you could hear the first droplets of rain hitting the roof and then the window behind Steve.

It's just your job, right? It doesn't have to mean anything.

"Sure, I can tidy you up." You walked back to him with a small smile on your lips, opening up the cabinet beside his bed to pick up gauze and antiseptics. "but then I'm calling a doctor to check up on you," when Steve opened his mouth to complain, you added; "no buts."

Raising your hands to the bandaid on his forehead, you asked; "may I?"

Steve could only nod. This is the closest he's ever been to you, and he never noticed how you had tiny freckles over your nose, or how pretty were the bright specks of color on your eyes. He held onto his breath until you removed the bandaid and pulled away from him.

Soaking a gauze with antiseptic, you raised a hand to Steve's hair and held it away from the bruise on his forehead while you cleaned it. The brown strands were soft under your touch, you wanted to run your fingers through them.

"Have you worked things out with Nancy?" You asked out of curiosity, mostly.

Steve averted his gaze from you, squirming on his seat until you mumbled a "stay still" for him. "Sort of, yeah." He sighed. "We uh- we're not together anymore."

You stopped your work to look at him properly.

Heart probably ripped in half, hair messier than ever, dark circles under his eyes, crimson red blood taking up most of his skin as a telltale of what you could only imagine was a reckless act of courage, and still, he held onto a tiny smile for you. The affection you developed for him made your heart thunder and bleed.

"I'm sorry, Steve. I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," he was quick to ease your worries, his eyes glistening under the artificial lights, "really, it's… it's better this way."

The once white gauze on your hand had now a pink color to it, you threw it aside and picked a new one. Busying yourself longer than necessary with the bottle of antiseptic, you said; "you deserve someone who loves and cares about you the same way you do for them, Steve."

You chanced a quick glance at his eyes, biting the inside of your cheek when you found him looking back at you. Clearing your throat, you took hold of his jaw and cleaned the blood under his nose.

You felt the way his cheeks moved under your touch when he smiled, felt the way he played and tugged at the ends of your jacket, keeping you there with him.

And you could worry about the butterflies in your stomach later. For now, all you cared about was patching him up and making sure to ease his pain, if not emotional, at least physical.

______

In the months that followed, you and Steve grew even closer, being each other's only constant in life. You two were attached to the hip to the point where in the last weeks of school, your friends had to get used to the fact that, wherever one went, the other followed.

But things shifted once you graduated and the safety blanket of going to school — of having that excuse to always be with him — was taken away.

And it's not like you were avoiding Steve, not at all. It was only natural that, after you both graduated, you'd see each other a little less.

He found a job at the new mall, and you were taking a few extra shifts helping out at the hospital. And that was all there was to it.

Sometimes, Steve called you and asked if you wanted to spend some time by the playground after the sun was down.

Every few days, you stopped by at Starcourt to see him.

You saw each other less — going from being together practically every day, to now only two or three times a week — certainly not for lack of trying on Steve's part. But the routine was safe.

Last night, he bought a bottle of wine for you to share at the playground. He made you laugh as he pushed you on the swing and you made him sing loudly with you over the radio on the way back to your home. And before you could exit his car, he took your hand;

The skin of his hand against yours was softer than you thought it'd be, a bit calloused, but still soft. You were closing your fingers around his before you could think it through.

"I was thinking, maybe you could stop by the mall tomorrow?" Steve asked, his voice shy in a way that you hadn't heard yet. His eyes were focused on your hands over the center console.

He didn't leave much room for you to answer before continuing; "I'll be working but, we could grab some ice cream on my break. You know, hang out, or whatever." He shook his head as if it was no big deal. His bumping knee and white knuckles around the wheel told otherwise.

You didn't do dates, you didn't like the idea of letting people close enough to ask you on them. Steve should know that too, he's had his heart broken too.

But he never said it would be a date. "Ice cream does sound tempting," you mused with a smile.

"It's the best in town." Steve teased, looking up at you the same way he did when you first got into his car tonight. If you didn't know better, you'd call it love.

You chuckled, incapable of saying no even if you wanted to. "Yeah, okay."

"Really?" His eyebrows shot up, the grip he had on your hand squeezing lightly.

"Cross my heart for you, pretty boy."

In some sense, Starcourt felt like its own little world. The atmosphere changed once you walked through those doors. Bright colors and even brighter neon signs for a multitude of stores, plus the overwhelming crowd were quite the contrast with the rest of Hawkins.

Scoops Ahoy was easier on the eyes, particularly because of the boy with the dorky sailor outfit behind the counter.

Early weekdays were slow, Steve was leaning over the counter, mindlessly flipping through a magazine while twirling his hat with the other hand.

"Hey, sailor." You smirked.

He beamed when he saw you, throwing the magazine to the side promptly. "Hey, you came."

You frowned, faking offense and leaning both your hands on the counter. "Of course I did, I love ice cream."

"Ouch," Steve mumbled with the ghost of a smile. "I have my break in about ten minutes, if you wanna pick a table." His gaze moved around the parlor, with only you and him, and an elderly couple sharing a bowl of ice cream on one of the tables.

With a nod, your lips titled up in a smile that was reserved for him only, "surprise me." You glanced at the many ice cream flavors beside him and walked away to find a table.

"Is that the girl you've been talking my ear off about?"

Robin's sudden voice just about made Steve jump out of his skin. He put a hand over his racing heart whilst the other clutched his sailor's hat, shooting a worried look in your direction to make sure you didn't hear it. "Jesus Buckley, keep it down will you?"

Raising her hands in mock surrender, Robin chuckled; "sorry loverboy, you were practically eating her with your eyes, so I assumed-"

"Was not," Steve grumbled.

"-that she was the 'beautiful girl who helps at the hospital and cared for me once and now I'm head over heels in love with her'." Robin finished with a smug grin, leaning back on the wall behind her.

If Steve's frown was anything to go by, he was not amused. "You done?" He had an evident blush on his cheeks as he avoided Robin's stare and tossed aside his hat, picking up two bowls for the ice cream.

Robin chuckled, "hey I didn't mean it as something bad, for what's worth, I think she might like you too."

Just the thought of it made Steve's heart do somersaults inside his chest. He pursed his lips, twirling his scoop on his hand.

"You should ask her out on a proper date," Robin suggested.

Steve shook his head, looking down at the ice cream flavors in front of him as if they'd have an answer for his feelings. "It's not that simple, she's… she's different. We're different. I don't wanna mess it up." He sighed, voice losing its volume as he spoke. Robin had never heard him sound so insecure.

Six minutes after you sat down at the table by the wall, an ice cream bowl was set in front of you, with your favorite flavor.

You looked up at Steve with a smile already on your lips.

He smirked back. Blue, white and red complimenting his features. Of course he could put on a sailor's uniform and look handsome in it. He sat down in front of you, with a bowl of ice cream of his own in his hands.

"You remembered," you said quietly, nose scrunching because of your smile. You picked up the spoon and took a bite of the cold dessert.

Steve pushed back his hair, a nervous habit of his that he was doing more and more whenever he was with you. "Of course I did."

Talking with Steve was easy; and there wasn't a day where he couldn't pull a smile out of you, as miserable as you might be, he made you happy. And every time, in the few minutes just before you walked out your door, knowing that he would be there, outside waiting for you, your stomach would flutter and your skin would feel hot, even more so after he touched you.

It should have been obvious, and maybe you already knew it deep down, only not wanting to admit it to yourself just yet; for fear, because you knew things would change once you did.

But now, as you talked about nothing and everything; as Steve's fingers intertwined with yours over the table, slightly sticky because of the ice cream; as he averted his eyes with the most adorable pink tint to his cheeks, and asked shyly if you'd, maybe, give him the chance to take you out on a proper date; now, it was as clear as day. You had fallen for him, completely and utterly. Willingly too, you knew it was. You knew it would happen, yet you stuck with him anyway.

It was selfish, and it was unfair. But Steve made you feel warm in a way you never had before, so you turned a blind eye to the inevitable outcome. Until now. Until the affection became real and tangible. Until he seemingly felt the same. For when something is real, it can hurt you.

You pulled your hand away from his with a gulp, shoulders growing tense as you curled in on yourself a little.

Steve's face fell immediately, eyebrows knitting together slightly as his eyes silently asked what he did wrong.

The look he gave you squeezed your heart painfully. You looked away. "I- I'm sorry, Steve. I- we can't."

"We can't… go on a date?" Steve chuckled nervously, pushing his now empty bowl of ice cream to the side. He slowly pulled the hand that had been holding yours back to himself, picking at his fingers. "I mean, it's- it's okay if you don't want to. I just thought that, I don't know, maybe we could give this a shot? Us, I mean. I just- you make me feel-" he was rambling, panic making the words roll off his tongue.

"Steve, stop." You snapped, harsher than you wanted to. Your palms were flush against the table as so to ground yourself, and the outline of Steve's lips started to get blurry in your vision. You bit back the tears.

He could only look at you, those gentle eyes of his so confused, tilting his head to the side as a puppy would.

"I'm sorry, but we can't do this." You forced the words out as steady as you could, which, wasn't much. It's crazy how sudden bursts of emotion can numb your senses, if you'd been thinking straight, you would have seen how his eyes held nothing but sincerity, nothing but affection and happiness to be there with you.

But at that moment, it felt safer to push him away, so that's what you did. With a last mumbled "sorry", you got up from the table and walked away from Scoops Ahoy. Away from Steve.

And he watched you leave, with a piece of his heart in your hands. He was silent as he picked up both empty bowls, mumbling curses under his breath as one of the spoons fell and soiled the table.

"How'd it go?" Robin asked him as he walked into the back room, going straight to the sink to wash the dishes.

Steve scoffed, angrily scrubbing the cutlery. "I did what I do best, Robin," foam covered his hands, he had to turn his head to wipe his damp cheek on his shoulder, "mess things up."

______

You didn't see Steve for two weeks after your not-date at the mall.

You didn't have the balls to call him, much less go see him. You didn't think he'd want to see you. You regretted the way you handled your feelings as soon as you got home that day.

The idea of someone having enough power over you to make the mess that a bullet to the heart would, without ever lifting a finger, was scary. You felt that pain once and you swore you'd never let it happen again. A risk that felt too great.

But the idea of losing Steve, the sweet boy that found his way into your heart with dumb jokes and a dorky attitude, was all the more terrifying.

Steve made you want to take the leap of faith that was loving someone.

You mustered up the courage to go see him when fireworks were painting the sky in a multitude of colors on the 4th of July. You would apologize, you would hold his hands and kiss him senseless if he let you.

But you never got to do it. Fate had a knack for messing up your plans. Because on that same night, your mother called you, saying that she would be pulling an all-nighter at the hospital because the new town mall had just burned to the ground. And there were many injured people. And there were casualties.

You had never snatched your car keys and sped off your driveway so fast, almost knocking down your mailbox. Reckless driving was an understatement to describe the way you reached Starcourt in half the time it usually took for you to get there.

Tires screeched against asphalt as you stopped at the Mall's parking lot. Ambulances, police, and even the military littered the place. Blue and red lights were blinking bright under the falling rain, reflecting against the wet ground and the metal of the vehicles.

It was quite a sight to see you running towards the commotion at full speed in your pajamas and a pair of poorly tied sneakers over mismatched socks. You were stomping over puddles and not caring if it got your feet wet, you just needed to find him.

Two strong hands suddenly stopped you in your tracks. You grunted, glaring daggers at the man who blocked your path. So what if he had a massive shotgun on his shoulder, an anxious, worried, and sleep-deprived girl could be just as menacing.

"This is a restricted area, lady, please turn around." His gruff voice commanded.

"I work with them, dude. Let me through." You pointed a trembling finger in the general direction of one of the ambulances, your chest going up and down erratically.

The man that held onto your arms sighed, "I won't tell you again, turn around and leave the area."

"Oh, you won't have to tell me again because I'll-"

Before you could get yourself arrested, a familiar voice interrupted you.

"That's alright, officer," Charles, a young doctor and one of your besties from the hospital walked up to you, "she's with me. Even if a little… underdressed for the job, I need her with me." He looked you up and down with a raised eyebrow, holding in a giggle.

You glared at the soldier as you walked past him, and when he was out of earshot, you thanked Charles; "I owe you one."

"Sure, but what are you even doing here?" The young man frowned, "if they're calling all hands on deck for this, you should be back at the hospital, no?"

You ran a hand through your hair, not being able to stay still as you looked around; there were so many people here, some of them you even knew from school, the rain was getting stronger and dampening your hair and those damn blinking lights of the ambulances were making it hard to focus. "No, no I'm- I'm not here to work, I'm trying to find someone."

"Do you need help? There's… there's been a few casualties, if you need me to-"

"No." You interrupted him quickly, you couldn't stomach to even think about the possibility. "It's okay, Charles," with a gentler voice, you laid a hand on his shoulder, "you go do your job and help the others, I'll be alright on my own."

Your friend gave you a sympathetic smile, "okay, just try to be quick, I can't keep them off your back for too long."

With a quick hug of gratitude to Charles, you started roaming around Starcourt's parking lot. The heavy thudding of your heart against your ribcage was starting to hurt, making it hard to breathe. You had to brush the sleeve of your pajama shirt over your eyes a few times, raindrops — or tears, you didn't care to know — were clinging to your eyelashes.

Only after two minutes that felt endless, you finally found him. There, sitting on the back of an ambulance, holding a bag of ice over one of his eyes, was your Steve.

"Steve," you breathed out with a relieved smile. You started running to him before you knew it, water splashing around your sneakers, calling louder; "Steve!"

His head snapped to your direction, his eyebrows scrunched up together when he saw you running to him. "What…" He mumbled, dropping the ice bag and raising to his feet. The movement hurt his sore muscles, and he didn't have time to prepare himself to have you throwing yourself at him.

The hug was as desperate as you felt since your mother called you earlier, you clutched at Steve's shoulders and buried your head on his neck; feeling the warmth of his body against yours, because he was alive, and he was okay, and he was here.

You didn't hear Steve's pained grunt when you collided with him, but soon your ears caught up with his little hisses of pain.

You pulled back immediately, worried eyes skimming over his body, "oh god I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Steve, I didn't mean to-" the words got stuck in your throat for a moment. Steve was looking down at you, smiling, because of course he was, but you could only see the cute crinkle of the smile on one of his eyes, because the other was swollen shut; it was a mix of deep red and purple that turned your stomach upside down. His lip had a massive cut to it that may or may not need stitches, his sailor's uniform was stained with blood and you were scared to find out what other injuries it was covering.

"-hurt you." You finished in a whisper, your hands hovering over his arms for fear of harming him more, and now you were sure that what was falling down your cheeks were tears.

"No, it's okay. It's okay," tears of his own pooled in Steve's already red-rimmed eyes, his words broke in the middle; "you could never." With a soft grip on your waist, he pulled you into a gentler hug, winding his arms around you and dropping his head to your shoulder. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, one that he'd been holding probably ever since that damned elevator dropped below the ground.

You nuzzled his shoulder as you held onto him with a tender grip, one hand going up to thread through his hair. "I was so worried, you have no idea."

Steve squeezed you tighter, he needed the comfort just as much as you, "'m sorry," he spoke against you.

If it was up to you, you'd stay in his embrace forever, but Steve was hurt and the rain was starting to seep through your clothes. You pulled back to look at him; "has anyone checked on you yet? Let me take you to the hospital."

Steve shook his head. He slid his hands down your arms and hooked his fingers with yours, blaming the emotional baggage of today for it. "No hospitals, please. Some paramedics already cleaned the injuries and shit… I just wanna go home." He pleaded, exhausted.

You squeezed his hands. "Yeah, okay. I'll take you, come on."

The drive to Steve's place was silent, mostly. As soon as Starcourt was out of sight, Steve sighed loudly and leaned back against the seat, and he hadn't moved since; you kept a close eye on him, on the steady up and down of his chest. Your knuckles were white holding the steering wheel. More and more, the reason for why you left him when you last saw each other felt incredibly insignificant beside the affection you held for him.

As you parked on Steve's driveway, you noticed that the whole house was dark, there were no other cars in sight either. "Where are your parents?"

Steve groaned, pushing himself up to sit straighter and feeling his bruised muscles complain about it. "Out, on a business trip or vacation, I don't fucking know."

"Steve, you- you can't be alone like this." You turned off your car and turned to him. "You have somewhere else you want me to take you?"

"No, here is fine. I've been alone plenty of times, it's no biggie." He reached for the door handle but hesitated. He gulped before chancing a glance your way. "You could stay though, if you wanted to."

Something in you broke with the way he said it, like he'd been dreading the thought of walking into his own house, — big, and dark, and cold and so empty — like he'd done it too many times before and wanted something to remind himself he wasn't on his own anymore.

You were going to stay even if he hadn't said it. To be honest, you doubted you'd ever willingly leave his side again.

Steve's house was huge and pretty, but in many ways, it seemed stuck in time. Only the same rooms had signs of life in it. An empty bowl of cereal in the sink, a cushion fallen to the floor in the living room, a few shoes discarded near the door; only the necessities. Not a home, just a house with people making use of it.

You walked with Steve up the stairs and to his bedroom, one of your hands always lingering by him. There were many unsaid words and unasked questions hanging thick in the air between you, and even if Steve was tired, before anything else, you insisted he took a shower. You knew he'd feel better after washing off the blood and sweat.

When you heard the stream of water hit the tiles in the bathroom, you walked back to his room and sat on his bed — it was big and so damn comfortable — with your head in your hands. Just about an hour ago, you had no idea you'd be spending the night at Steve's house. Even if you did catch yourself sometimes wondering what your first night together would be like, you'd never guessed it'd be like this.

As bland as the rest of the house may be, Steve's room had a few traces of his personality in it. A few tapes and a cassette player, an old basketball beside his wardrobe, a dusty acoustic guitar resting against the wall; all making it easy to guess that this was the place he spent most of his time in when at home.

It took maybe ten minutes for you to hear Steve turning off the shower, and then he slowly made his way back to his room.

The door was pushed open to reveal Steve in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, though he was still holding his towel in front of most of his chest and abdomen. His hair was damp — much longer than when you first became friends, you realized — a few droplets of water dripping down the strands and to his bare shoulders. He was walking with stiffness to his movements, grimacing every few steps.

"How are you feeling?" You asked in lieu of saying let me see you. But he understood.

"I think I've beat my record." He said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes, towel still clutched tightly between his hands.

"Steve," you said quietly, carefully, and if the house wasn't so eerily silent, he wouldn't have heard.

But he did, and that was enough. Steve clenched his jaw before reluctantly throwing the towel over the chair in front of his desk. And the sight clenched your heart painfully. His torso was an array of colors, blacks and blues staining his pale skin, highlighted because of the hot water from the shower; a few wounds so harsh that it was visible they'd drawn blood when done.

Steve squirmed under your gaze. You wondered if he was expecting some kind of scolding, it pained you to think about it.

"My god, Steve," was all you could say over the lump in your throat. You extended a hand for him, silently asking him to come closer.

He took it, sitting down beside you with that familiar hunch to his shoulders. His hand was warm against yours, holding on tightly.

You shuffled closer to him, raising one hand to brush away the strands of hair covering his eyes. Tenderly, because he deserved nothing less. "What happened to you?" You kept your voice quiet, the only lighting into his room came from a lamp on his desk, and from the pool outside, you didn't feel like breaking the peaceful bubble.

Steve pursed his lips, his eyes taking on a brighter shine as water collected on the bottom lid. He didn't look up, solemnly focused on how his fingers played with yours. "The mall burned down."

You sighed, tilting your head to try and catch his gaze. "Did the mall also beat you up while it was burning down?"

A teary chuckle escaped Steve, but a frown soon took its place. He shook his head; "it's complicated."

You squeezed his hand. "You can talk to me."

"I can't," he choked on his words, "I'm sorry, I can't. I wanted to, but it's too dangerous, I can't-"

"It's alright," you shushed when sobs started to cut through Steve's words. You brought both hands up to cup his cheeks, brushing away the falling tears with your thumbs. "You don't have to tell me now. It's okay."

Steve nodded, his hands coming up to grasp at your wrists while he leaned into your hold. His heart was loud against his ears, his lower lip trembling with each ragged breath he took. One never realizes how much he's missing something until he gets it. Steve would happily drown in your comfort.

Eventually, he calmed down enough to ask the one thing he needed to know the most; "how- why were you there tonight?"

With a last brush of your thumb over the damp skin of his cheeks, you lowered your hands, biting onto your lip. "My mother called, saying how she'd be staying at the hospital tonight because Starcourt had burned down, and…" you looked up at Steve, heart on your hands and parted lips as the words laid on the tip of your tongue, "I was so scared, Steve. When she told me, my- my first thought was you. If you were okay or, if you got hurt."

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling to chase away tears of your own and then back at him; "I just needed to find you. And I'm sorry for the way I left things when we last spoke, I should have handled it differently, you- you deserved better." You chuckled humorlessly, "I said so myself, didn't I?"

That made Steve smile. He was all cuts and bruises, eye swollen and lip split; and you loved him so much it hurt. He chanced a hand up to your jaw, holding you carefully. "No one's better for me than you. No one cares for me as you do." His gaze moved to your lips, only a fraction of a second. "Why'd you do it?" He asked.

Steve's eyes held nothing but affection. You felt safe with him, safer than you ever did before. "A while ago, before we met, I trusted someone," you glanced out his window as you recalled it, "and they broke that trust, they- they used me. Got what they wanted and then just… vanished. It made me feel like a trophy, for a game, the ones that get discarded right after it ends."

You found Steve's gaze again, he was listening intently. There was a hint of anger on his features, but you realized it wasn't for you, it was for whoever hurt you. You took a deep breath, and continued; "I got over it, sorta. I promised myself I wouldn't give anyone else that sort of power, you know?"

Steve nodded, his hand on your cheek was mindlessly playing with the hair behind your ear. "I understand."

"It was safer that way. Lonelier too." You explained. "But then you came along and… all my rules just went straight out the window." You smiled, ducking your head onto his hand when you felt warmth coming to your cheeks.

"Maybe I could be the lucky exception to those rules then?" Steve chuckled, this time it was his eyes searching yours.

"I think you've been the exception since the first time I saw you covered in blood." You bit your cheek to contain your smile, gravitating closer to Steve as your hand ghosted over his waist.

Before you could close the gap between you, Steve looked you in the eyes, sincerity overflowing his blown pupils; "I hope you know, I'd never hurt you, ever."

You nodded, resting your forehead against his, your noses bumping together. "Promise?" You breathed out, your lips grazing his as you spoke.

You felt the shape of his smile, "cross my heart."

With a hand behind your head, Steve pulled you into a kiss, one that you both melted into, clinging to each other as if this was your last day on earth together.

Your hands made a mess of his hair and his arms closed around your waist as he pulled you impossibly closer.

Maybe you did keep your promise to him, maybe his happy ending was always meant to be intertwined with yours.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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ilongfor-the-arts · 1 year

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A REQUEST FOR LIP PLEASEEE!! him getting hammered in a party then he calls you to rescue him or smth then you gotta drag him and drive him back home. he asks you sleep over and you stayed! thats basically my idea u can develop it however u like <333 can be fluff alone or added w a bit of spice🤭 but we’ll enjoy it nevertheless

Drunk Mind, Sober Heart

Pairing: Lip Gallagher x fem! Reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, angst (nothing happens bc Lip is drunk), dirty talk, language

Summary: *in req*

Word Count: 2.5k

An ear splitting noise startled me awake. I shot up, my eyes flinging open, only to discover that my bedroom was completely dark.

Was that my alarm?

No, there is no way in hell it was eight in the morning already.

I groaned in frustration and reached for my bedside table. As my eyes adjusted, I ran my palm along the smooth wood, my bedroom gradually coming into view. Unfortunately, my vision was not properly adjusted to perceive the small black box. My hand pushed a mysterious object, and a soft thud echoed.

“Shit!”

I exclaimed. I threw my torso off the bed and inspected the carpeted floor for my phone.

Whoever was calling me at this hour was gonna get it.

When I realized I didn't have much time before the call went to voicemail, I quickened my pace, grunting from the unexpected effort.

“Yes!”

The artificial glow burned into my retinas as I flipped the phone over to expose the screen. I was forced to squint so I could see who had the audacity to call me at such an inconvenient hour.

I rolled my eyes.

Of fucking course.

With a sour attitude, I accepted the call. I was miffed at Lip for ruining my perfect night of restful sleep.

“What? This better be good Lip, or I’m gonna be really pissed.”

I flopped onto the bed and fixed my gaze on the boring ceiling. On the other end of the line, there was a cacophony of voices and screams. It was so loud that it resembled a roar. To prevent going deaf, I moved the phone a few inches from my ear.

“Heyyyyyy Y/N. How are ya?”

Every syllable lacked clarity. Oh, come on, why did I have to be the one getting booty called tonight? I disregarded his inquiry and instead put forth my own.

“Lip, what time is it?”

I inquired in part to gauge his level of inebriation and in part because I was too sluggish to remove my phone from my ear to check the time.

“Uhhhh- that’s a great question.”

There was rustling from the other end of the line.

“It’s 9 oh 3.”

I cocked a brow.

“You sure about that?”

“Uh-hold on. Gimmie a sec.”

Rustling.

“Do you read from left to right or right to left?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. At the very least, this would make a good story in a few days after I recovered from my extreme sleep deprivation.

“Left to right, at least in English.”

“Okay, thanks. You’re so smart.”

Rustling.

“Okay, it’s 3 oh 9. Well… 3:10 now.”

I tried to shake the sleep from my brain by closing my eyes and gently kneading my soft eyelids.

“That’s just perfect. You do remember me saying I had an 8 am class today, right?”

“Yes I do. I just-I lost my phone, and yours is the-the only phone number I remember.”

He had never been this drunk before. Lip had a very high tolerance for alcohol. The number of drinks he must have consumed to get to this point is beyond my comprehension. His speech was becoming more slurred by the second, almost as if he were nodding off.

I completely ignored the fact that he used his phone to call me. He was comprehending very little at this moment.

“How many drinks have you had, Lip?”

Silence.

“Uh-that’s another great question…”

His voice trailed off. I sure hope he didn't doze off on me.

“Alright Lip, don’t fall asleep.”

I threw myself into a sitting position and switched on the bedside table lamp. The room instantly filled with bright light. My eyes watered. I squinted to accommodate the abrupt change.

“Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.”

I tucked the phone between my shoulder and ear as I reached down to put on my slippers.

“Uh-I don’t know the address.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Alright, well, can you give me any information that could help me find you?”

I stood, the phone pressed to my ear. I threw a light jacket over my shoulders to hide the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra.

“Uh-it’s down the street from an old gas station.”

I knew exactly where he was. There was only one party host who lived next to an old gas station.

“Are you at Christian’s house?”

“No. Well, actually, I don’t know.”

I walked to my front door, shaking my head in disbelief. I plucked my car keys from the wood tray by the door, twirling them between my fingers. The silence that engulfed my apartment complex was deafening compared to the soft jingle.

“I’ll come and get ya’. Just give me ten minutes. Don’t move a muscle.”

“Okay. I’ll be waitin’ for ya on the front lawn.”

“Perfect.”

I drove slowly, not in a hurry to arrive at Christian's house. Lip could handle himself when he was drunk. Sure, he said stupid shit at times, but if I truly believed he was a danger to himself, I would increase my urgency.

Not even a meek flicker of light could be seen in the windows of nearby houses. My car was engulfed in darkness. Everything was pitch black save for a few street lamps that did little to penetrate the gloom. The world was still and silent.

It reminded me of the twilight zone. I was imprisoned in an environment where time did not exist. I was alone. There were no people who could guide me. I was trapped.

That was the impression I had up until I arrived at Christian's house. The street was lined with parked cars. There were sober individuals mixed in with those who were stumbling drunk. Christian’s house was bursting at the seams. People could be seen congregating on the lawn, in the upper windows, shoving their way inside, and shoving their way out. I stopped my car in front of the grass. Sure enough, Lip was standing on the front lawn, gazing at the street with a blank stare.

I giggled. He looked lost.

I opened my car window and protruded my head outside.

“Lip Gallagher! Your chauffeur is here!”

I shouted sarcastically. My joke elicited a few giggles from various partygoers. A stupidly uneven smile appeared on Lip’s face as he awoke from his stupor.

“Oh hi, Y/N! I didn’t even know you were coming!”

“Get in Lip. I’m gonna take you home.”

Lip walked over, nearly tripping ten times in the short distance he had to cover. I laughed at his erratic behavior.

“You're gonna sit in the back, Lip?”

I caught a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. His head was leaning against the headrest, and his eyes were closed. He looked serene. Lip jerked awake. His half lidded eyes hurriedly scanned the back of my car as if expecting company.

“Uh-no. I’ll sit in the front.”

I anticipated that he would exit the vehicle and move to the front seat. Instead, he launched himself over the center console.

“Jesus Lip!”

I exclaimed, a flurry of limbs obstructing my view. His body relaxed as he sank into the passenger seat.

“That’s better. It’s much more comfortable up here.”

I scoffed and decided not to participate in this pointless conversation.

Lip didn't speak once during the entire drive back to his apartment, which surprised me. His breathing evened out. I could only assume that he had dozed off. His head would softly crash into the window when I crossed a bump in the road. Although the position didn't appear to be comfortable, Lip was too far gone to bother.

I parked in front of Lip’s dorm complex.

“Lip.”

The mere mention of his name caused Lip to instantly become alert, his hands fumbling all over my car.

“Yes?”

I grinned.

“Do you need help walking or can you manage?”

“I got it.”

Lip stumbled out of the vehicle and looked up at his run-down dorm building. Thank God he was at a dorm and not in his chaotic home. Only occasionally have I had to pick up Lip from a party. Yet, I always seem to run into one of Fiona's conquests who is using the cover of night to elude detection.

“This isn’t my house.”

“Yes it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Lip, you moved. You live in a dorm now.”

Lip squinted, still not convinced.

“Oh!”

His eyes widened as his face relaxed.

“Yeah, I remember now.”

We moved slowly as we ascended the stairs. Lip kept stumbling forward, tripping, falling, then shooting back up. The cycle was then repeated ten steps later. Eventually I caved and slung his arm over my shoulder to quicken the process.

“Are your roommates home?”

I wanted to ignite a casual conversation because I could feel Lip growing heavier. I was struggling under his weight and quickly ran out of breath.

“Yes. Actually, no. I don’t think so. I think they left town.”

“Where did they go?”

“They went… to- somewhere.”

Thank God. I could throw Lip on his bed, tuck him in, and leave without any awkward encounters.

I threw Lip’s dorm room open and reached for the lightswitch.

“Noooooo. Don’t turn on the lights.”

I reconciled.

“Alright. Whatever you say.”

It was the home stretch. Lip’s bed was in sight.

I threw him onto it. Under his weight, the springs groaned loudly, disturbing the peace.

“Alright Lip, looks like my work here is done.”

I couldn't help but smile as I turned to leave. Even though I adored Lip and knew this would make a great story, I was eager to crawl into bed.

“Wait…”

He said meekly.

I turned, exhaling an exasperated sigh.

“What now?”

In the ten seconds that I was looking elsewhere, he had somehow gotten himself into a seated position.

“Come here.”

With the most threatening voice his inebriated mind could conjure, he demanded. I rolled my eyes as I approached him.

His expression was sluggish. He seemed to be in a drug-induced coma. Lip’s eyes were half lidded and the corners of his mouth were slightly upturned in a silly manner.

I came to a halt about a foot and a half in front of him.

“Come closer.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest and taking a step forward.

“Closerrrrrr.”

He was undoubtably fucking with me. But whatever, I’ll play his stupid game. I took another step forward, our knees brushing.

A slight smirk appeared on his lips as he glanced at me through his thick lashes.

Shit.

What have I gotten myself into?

Lip encircled my thighs with his large hands, tugging me forward until the waistband of my shorts was level with his nose.

The air hitched in my throat.

“Lip!”

I exclaimed.

Lip began pressing tender kisses to the tops of my bare thighs, maintaining intense eye contact.

“Come on Y/N, live a little.”

I chuckled, my face flushed with embarrassment, despite the fact that Lip was completely unaware of his actions.

“Lip you really are drunk out of your mind.”

Lip chuckled against my skin.

“Maybe.”

He mumbled.

“No, not maybe, definitely.”

His voice was remarkably crisp and clear. Lip was in his element. He was truly demonstrating his ability to woo any woman, even when his mind was under the influence of alcohol.

“Okay, I’m a little drunk.”

I couldn’t deny that he looked unbelievably sexy with his hot mouth trailing along my thighs.

“But I bet you’re already wet just thinking about me inside you.”

His tone was sultry.

How did he manage to flirt drunk better than I could flirt stone cold sober?

Smug bastard.

“I-“

I couldn't refute his accusation because he was completely correct. I could already feel the wetness pooling in my panties and all he had done was kiss my thighs.

“Come on Y/N, just let me fuck you.”

He pushed the hem of my shirt upwards, exposing a thin strip of my stomach. Lip’s fiery touch ignited an expanse of goosebumps along my soft skin.

He pressed several hot, open mouthed kisses to my lower abdomen.

I shuddered.

My knees began to shake.

Jesus.

I placed my hands on his shoulders and meekly pushed him away. Lip resisted, his mouth remaining pressed against my body.

“You’re so tense all the fuckin’ time.”

I gulped, squeezing my eyes shut. If I continued to maintain eye contact, I would never have the strength to put an end to this.

“You need to relax… and I can make you relax. I can eat you out and make you cum all over my face- I can fuck you real slow- make you feel really good-“

His warm mouth was hovering just above my waistband.

“Lip, we’re friends-“

“Friends fuck. Friends fuck all the time.”

He moved a hand forward, rubbing soft circles into my clothed clit.

Jesus, he was touching me through two layers of clothing and I was still getting insanely hot and bothered.

No.

Hell no.

“Sure, but sober friends don’t fuck drunk friends.”

I was more assertive in my actions. I pushed him away from me. Lip's mouth disconnected from my stomach with a soft pop. His hands landed in his lap.

“No?”

He asked with a sarcastic pout.

“Maybe another time.”

I said despite knowing Lip wouldn’t remember this tomorrow.

“Okay. But I got ya thinkin’ about it, didn’t I?”

He asked smugly.

“Yes, you did.”

Lip fell to one side, his head hitting the pillow.

“Will you stay with me?”

I chuckled.

“What are you, seven?”

Lip groaned, his eyes shut.

“No-I’m at least 10.”

Despite my jokes, I wanted to be with Lip. I'd possessed a small crush on him for the many years we'd been friends, but I wasn't sure if it was something I should pursue. It was always a minor nagging thought in the back of my mind, never something to take seriously.

Until tonight.

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

I crawled into bed with him, slinging an arm around his waist.

“Love ya Y/N.”

His voice was slurred to the point where his words could barely be understood. But I recognized what he was saying. When it was time to say goodbye, he always told me he loved me (platonically, of course). I'm grateful that drunk him still clung to our traditions.

“Love you too Lip.”

Lip smelled like stale tobacco and cheap alcohol. It wafted into my nose in waves, lulling me to sleep.

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hookhausenschips · 22 days

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She said, "He's not coming back. Because he's sleeping with me!”

Masterlist

Summary: based on Dirty Diana

Join my taglist here!

A/N: I was tempted to add smut to this but I’m feeling lazy tonight, lmk if you’d want an updated version with it

Like and Reblog if you enjoyed!

————————————————————

Y/N’s POV

Monaco’s glitter never dulled, and neither did my appetite for its most enticing visitors. Among the Formula 1 elite, Sebastian Vettel had always stood out—not just for his skill on the track but for his notorious resistance to the charms that worked so effortlessly on others. He intrigued me, like a puzzle begging to be solved, and I couldn't resist a challenge.

During one of the Grand Prix after-parties, I wove through the crowd, my dress catching the lights, knowing full well he’d notice. Approaching him with a drink, I smiled, offering it as a token of congratulations.

“Sebastian, that was some impressive driving today,” I said, my voice laced with just a hint of promise. “Ever think of celebrating away from all this noise?”

He took the drink, his smile polite but guarded. “Thanks, but I’ve got plans,” he replied, a flicker of caution in his eyes.

I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. “Plans can change, Sebastian. Sometimes spontaneity can lead to the most memorable nights.”

"Thank you, but I prefer quieter celebrations. Perhaps another time," he replied, already looking past me.

"Oh, come on. A little celebration never hurt anyone," I teased, touching his arm lightly. He glanced at the contact, his eyes flickering with a warning. But I saw the momentary lapse, the brief interest, and I knew—I had a way in.

As the season progressed, I found myself at various races, always making sure I was in Sebastian's line of sight. In Singapore, under the artificial stars of the Marina Bay Circuit, I escalated my efforts. Waiting in the shadows after his disappointing finish, I approached him with a sympathetic smile.

"Rough night, huh? Everyone needs to let off some steam," I said, my voice low and inviting. "Let me show you the real nightlife of Singapore."

He glanced at me, his tired eyes betraying a hint of vulnerability. “You don’t give up, do you?” he remarked, half-amused.

“And you seem worth not giving up on,” I replied smoothly, placing my hand reassuringly on his.

This time, he hesitated, the strain of the race evident in his eyes. "Maybe just a drink," he finally conceded, and I knew this was my moment.

We ended up at a secluded spot, away from the prying eyes of the racing world. As the night deepened, so did our conversation, and eventually, the undeniable attraction took over. It was everything I had planned, a night of whispered secrets and shared laughter, which ended with a promise of no strings attached.

The morning brought reality crashing back. As the sun rose over the skyline, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Sebastian's expression turned solemn. "This can't happen again," he stated firmly, his voice rough with regret. "I have someone waiting for me back home. This was a mistake."

I watched him dress, the lines of his body tense with conflict. "Everyone makes mistakes," I said softly, trying to lighten the mood. But his jaw was set, his decision clear as he walked out, leaving me to ponder my next move.

Driven by the thrill of the challenge, I refused to give up. My next opportunity came in Abu Dhabi, at the season's closing race. I knew this was my last chance to sway him this season. I pulled out all the stops, arranging an accidental meeting at the hotel lobby.

"Sebastian, fancy seeing you here," I said, feigning surprise. "One last celebration to end the season?"

He looked tired, worn out from the demands of his career and perhaps the weight of his guilt. "I shouldn't," he started, but I cut him off.

"Just one drink, for old times' sake?" I suggested, my voice a soothing balm to his hesitation.

This time, when he agreed, there was a resignation in his tone, a surrender to the inevitable. We found ourselves back in a secluded corner, the world fading away as we picked up where we had left off.

The night blurred into a tapestry of touch and whispers, a repeat of our last encounter but with an underlying urgency. As dawn approached, we faced each other with a mutual understanding; this was more than just a fling.

"I don't regret this," Sebastian confessed, his voice low, filled with a complex mixture of emotions. "But it changes nothing back home."

I nodded, my mind already racing with possibilities. "Who says it has to change anything?" I murmured, the idea taking root.

As he left, the final goodbye was different—less regretful, more inevitable. We were both caught in a web of our own making, the boundaries blurred. And as I watched him go, I knew this wasn't the end. The chase was as thrilling as the catch, and I was already planning the next Grand Prix, the next encounter, under the guise of night and the rush of adrenaline.

In this high-speed game of cat and mouse, I was always one step ahead, and Sebastian was an opponent worth every strategic move.

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sxcret-garden · 9 months

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San ღ Drowsy [M]

ღ Ateez San x fem-bodied!reader ღ words: ~2.5k ღ genre: soft smut (switch!San, a bit of dry humping, unprotected sex, orgasm control) ღ warnings: (mentions of him running his fingers through reader's hair)

Desc.: Your boyfriend San is about to doze off next to you late at night, when you try to wake him up and gradually your sleepy cuddle session turns into something more than just that.

It’s the middle of the night. You stayed up late to get some more studying done, and because you just couldn’t wait another day to watch the new episode of the series you’re currently hooked on. Your boyfriend San isn’t much of a fan, though he occasionally joins you to watch an episode together, because that means a whole hour of being together with you peacefully among both of your busy schedules. Plus, he knows that as soon as he lies down on the bed next to you and he puts his head in your lap, your fingers will wander to his hair by themselves, brushing through it softly and playing with it absentmindedly. At some point you had joked that he trained you well, since it became such a natural habit for you to play with his hair after he had begged you a few times to do it, to which he had glanced up at you, smiling so his dimples showed, and answered, “Like a cat trains its owner?” You had laughed about it then, but the more you kept thinking about it, the more your boyfriend actually began to remind you of a cat. Starting with his facial features to the way he could sleep whole days away if anyone let him, you’ve been noticing these tiny details about him more than ever and making small connections in your head.

Today though, those thoughts are nowhere near the center of your attention - quite opposite to what’s happening on the laptop screen in front of you. As it illuminates the room with its artificial light, your eyes follow every scene with great interest, and your mind feels awake as you listen to the dialogue in detail. San however is about to doze off in your lap, lulled to sleep by the gentle touches of your fingertips against his scalp. Sometimes you dare to take your eyes off the screen for a second to spare him a look or two, and you see his eyelids drooping. He’s fighting to stay awake, probably for your sake, though you wouldn’t be mad at him if he just drifted off to sleep like this. A faint smile appears on your lips and you lean down to place a gentle kiss onto his temple, before continuing to massage his scalp. He too smiles, and you return to watching your series.

Eventually the episode ends, and you close the laptop and then carefully get up so as not to wake a now sleeping San, tiptoeing to the bathroom to get ready for bed. You return and find him curled up, his body lying on top of the blanket, with a pillow safely wrapped in his arms. You chuckle at the sight, and as you try to shake his shoulders slightly, the pout on his lips grows bigger.

“San, you shouldn’t sleep without a blanket. You’ll catch a cold…” you whisper, unsure if he can hear you. When he doesn’t react, you let out a sigh and then lie down next to him, facing him, and trying to free the pillow from his embrace. “San,” you call out to him once more, keeping your voice down. But this time he furrows his brows and brings his knees closer to his torso, as if to protest against you trying to wake him up again. As he’s in the process of burying his face in the pillow up to his cheekbones, you reach out and run your fingers through his hair, just like you had done before, however this time applying a bit more pressure so as to guide him into leaning his head back. The pillow not covering his face anymore now, you move closer and place a soft kiss on his pouty lips, feeling them relax under your feathery touch. Getting sleepy yourself, you let yourself get caught up in the kiss, not pulling back after a few seconds as you had planned, but letting your lips melt together, and eventually deepening the kiss. A small whine escapes him as you part eventually, and you let your gaze scan his face in the dark, trying to make out as many details as possible. You barely see the moles on his skin, but the bridge of his nose stands out to you, and you can see him opening his eyes ever so slightly.

“Want another kiss?” you ask, not missing the pleading expression written all over his face. He nods, wordlessly, and his grip on the pillow loosens, ready to give it up so he can enclose your body in his arms instead. “Then get under the blanket with me,” you say, trying to make a deal, but your words fall on deaf ears. He puts the pillow aside, throwing it over his shoulder in a sleepy motion, and then he extends his hand to place it on your cheek. You lean into his touch for a moment, before his fingertips begin to wander, trailing a path down the side of your neck, to your shoulder, and eventually down your side, until it comes to rest on your waist. He moves a little closer and you let him kiss you again. As with most of his kisses, it’s a soft but intense touch, never demanding too much, yet pouring a strong sense of longing and passion into his actions. You allow yourself to start feeling drunk on his kiss, knowing that if he was to go any further, he would probably make you lose your self-control rather quickly. When you part, you feel his hand shifting from your waist to your hip, and he pulls you towards him like that, until you feel his core against yours, and as you realize what made him so needy all of a sudden, you can also feel his own body heat going over to you, as if you suddenly shared the same blood flow, rushing through your limbs and letting you both feel the electric sparks forming in the air around you. You grin at him and then slightly roll your hips against the bulge in his boxer shorts, the whine he lets out upon feeling the friction sounding like music to your ears.

“Falling asleep on me and then having some very nice dreams, I see…” you tease him, and then you put your leg over his, rolling over so he ends up on his back underneath you, with you sitting on top of him. You reach over to the bedside table to turn on a light, and you don’t fail to catch the way he flinches from the sudden brightness. A blush from being teased is still present on his cheeks, and you can’t help but coo over how cute he looks like this. Watching his reactions with great interest, you sneak a hand under the shirt he usually sleeps in, and when your cold fingertips come in contact with the skin covering his toned abs, he sucks in a breath. You let your palm wander up his warm torso, pulling the shirt up along with it to expose his stomach and chest. In contrast to your fairly cold hands, you lower yourself and let your warm tongue come in contact with his skin. Starting from about halfway up his abs, you lick a stripe up to his breastbone, and when you’re about to straighten your back again, you feel one of his hands at the back of your head, fingers digging into your hair. You place a kiss right there, on his hot skin, and you feel him shiver as you breathe out, blowing some cool air onto his chest in the process. You tug at his shirt to signal that it’s in the way, and in order to slip it off him, he lets you sit up for a moment. He too starts roaming your torso from your shoulders down to your stomach restlessly, and you take off your shirt as well, both now being left merely with your underpants on. His palms immediately find your breasts, and you enjoy the way his touch builds up warmth in your core for just a few seconds. Then you take his hands in yours and as you lean in to connect your lips to his, you wrap your fingers around his wrists and place them above his head. You know he’d usually be strong enough to escape your hold if he wanted to, but throughout the time you’d been dating San you have learned that in certain situations he isn’t one to fight back much, unless you push him to his limits. You enjoy the unconditional power you have over him in moments like these, but what you love even more is pushing all the right buttons to feel him gradually melt underneath you, until eventually you’re left with but a whining mess of a boy. And even though, seeing how late at night it already is, pushing him to that state wasn’t the plan today, with how sensitive your boyfriend reacts to all your touches at the moment you feel like you might get there anyway.

You kiss your way from the corner of his mouth to his neck, licking and biting just beneath his ear, as he looks the other way to expose the freckled skin fully. Your face buried in his neck and one hand tangled in his hair as much as his position allows it, you grind your core against his boxers again, and this time as well you receive a whine of pleasure. San throws his arms around you suddenly, and you can feel his nails digging into the bare skin on your back. You grin triumphantly from making him react like this, and you grant him another roll of your hips, to which he too tries to push his core closer to yours.

“Greedy, aren’t we today…?” you comment, whispering right into his ear, before you bite his earlobe and repeat the motion of your hips, falling into a slow but steady rhythm. His hands start becoming restless again, one of them finding its way up into your hair, while the other finds your ass, squeezing it in an attempt to pull you closer. It catches you by surprise and you yelp, before he turns his head to face you. Without hesitation you connect your lips with his, and you share a deep kiss, burning up a fire from inside, and you feel it spreading through your entire being.

“San,” you call out to him, as you feel yourself breathless from the kiss. His eyes follow you closely while you sit up on top of him, and you make space to be able to pull down his pants just far enough. You quickly wriggle out of yours as well, probably not very elegantly, but at this point you don’t care. Something about the way he kissed you lit up a desire deep in your chest, and now you can’t fight the need to feel him inside you anymore. You weren’t going to give in this fast, yet here you are, lowering yourself onto his cock, while he holds your hips to support you, and probably because he’s yearning for some control. You feel him stretching you out, but the feeling isn’t uncomfortable, so once you’ve settled on top of his hips you immediately go over to riding him. You try to keep your pace slow, but the way he moans and makes you moan with him causes you to want to hear more, and so you fasten your pace rather quickly. You lean in to give him another open mouthed kiss, but focusing on kissing each other becomes difficult as you’re both rushing towards your highs. One after the other, you remove his hands from your hips, pinning him against the bed instead, and his name falls from your lips, once, then a second time. He too calls out for you, and from the way he’s clenching his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut you can see he’s about to cum.

“Not yet, San,” you say and stop all motions at once. You’re not sure where the sudden return of your control came from, but it’s not like you have the time or will to ponder on that right now either. You see him throwing his head back into the pillow, frustration engraved in his features, and he lets out a pained whine. As if to comfort him you lean in and place a soft kiss to his temple, then to the tip of his nose. “Don’t cum before me, baby,” you whisper, and you kiss him, this time properly. He nods, the frustration still present on his face, though when you pull back to take a good look at him, you find obedience deep in his eyes. For some reason you feel like there is also an apologetic expression hidden in them, and when you feel him tense his muscles underneath you, you begin to understand why.

“I won’t cum before you… I promise.” You hear him mumble those words, before he flips you over easily, like a piece of paper. After all, you don’t stand a chance against him when he uses his strength. Pinning you to the bed for just a second, you share one brief look, before he lets go of your hands and wraps his arms around your upper body instead, holding onto your shoulders while you throw your legs around his waist. He rolls his hips against yours, making you moan from the friction and the way every single one of his thrusts seems to send an electric wave throughout your whole body. He buries his face in your neck, and you can hear him grunt through gritted teeth in between moans of your name. Feeling your high building up in your core, you too hold onto his broad shoulders with all your might. Along with how he picks up his pace, you roll your hips, hoping to feel just a little bit more of him inside you. And then eventually, your moans turn into a string of curses as you feel your orgasm approach, and you clench hard around him when it hits you. Merely the blink of an eye later, he too lets out a desperate whine, and you can feel him filling you up inside.

Both panting, San collapses on top of you. That blissful sensation still fresh in your mind, you turn your head so the tips of your noses touch, and you brush your fingertips through his hair, feeling him lean into your touch. His eyes are closed as you watch him, still in the process of catching his breath.

“San, let’s get under the blanket now,” you propose. For a second he hesitates, but then reason seems to take the better of him and he nods. He switches off the lights for you, and as soon as you are both lying under the warm and fluffy blanket, his arms are wrapped tightly around your body and he’s back to burying his face in your neck. “Sweet dreams,” you whisper, and you place a kiss on his forehead. You feel him return the peck in your neck before he answers, voice drowsy,

“Sleep well, baby.”

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez drabbles #san x reader #san smut #san drabbles #smut #kpop smut

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shadowsandshapes · 11 months

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𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏 (𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞) | afab!Reader/Gojo Satoru

Summary: You convince Gojo to go with you to the aquarium, not realizing that the man has a huge crush on you. He knows he shouldn't indulge in the urge to be close to you, but you're just too damn cute to say 'no' to. Contains: Shamelessly Self-Indulgent Fluff, Pining, First Kiss, Everyone Gets Roasted A Little (Affectionate), Hand-Holding (Scandalous) Tag: @dabislittlebeaniebaby wc: [3.5K]

An array of colorful little fish swam by, dancing in front of your eyes before swiftly retreating into the artificial coral reef in the back of the tank. They nestled themselves against the surfaces, flitting through the crevices and cracks in a beautiful display of nature. Your face was practically glowing as you leaned in closer to the tank in front of you to watch them float by. It was cute, Gojo realized, how such a simple thing could bring so much light to your eyes. Even in this dimly lit hallway of the aquarium, you shined like a beacon, drawing his gaze away from the beautiful sea life that surrounded him from all sides.

It was probably a good thing that his sunglasses obscured his eyes or you would have caught him staring at you more than once today. You were very distracting.

How you managed to convince Gojo to join you for a trip to the aquarium, he didn’t know. You were just too damn hard to say ‘no’ to. Everyone knew he was kind of a big deal. You were going, with or without him, but you’d gone out of your way to pester him into tagging along. A big important guy like him had better things to do than to waste an afternoon looking at fish and whatever other sea mammals this place had in their collection. But when you’d looked at him with those big sparkly eyes asking him to take you out, his reluctance crumbled like a house of cards. He could still hear your voice, sweetly begging him to come with you.

“You’re busy?” you scoffed, eyes narrowing at the man as he lounged on the couch in the break room. “With what? Bullying the higher-ups into submission? Please, Gojo. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

That little pout on your lips broke Gojo. It was too damn cute to resist. “Alright, alright!” He waved a dismissive hand and made a big hoopla about getting up, groaning in mock-annoyance as you clapped your little hands together at your victory. “I’ll take you to see the pretty fishies, okay?”

And that’s how he wound up here: watching you — watching the fish swim by.

Every once in a while, Gojo would catch you bouncing on your heels when a particular fish swam up to the front of the tank to greet you. You would lean forward and whisper hello as if it would somehow be able to hear you through the thick glass. It was a sickeningly sweet sight that made his heart clench.

Did you even know how much he adored you?

Gojo had so desperately tried not to get attached to you. Staying away from you was harder than he liked to admit. At first, he just enjoyed your company. You were sweet, funny and strong. It wasn’t until you began biting back to his teasing that Gojo fell hard. That obnoxious way you rolled your eyes at his jokes and the way you would hit him with the finger-guns whenever you entered the room. You were so effortlessly charming and dorky, he couldn’t stand it. This silly infatuation with you had gotten out of hand long ago, Gojo realized that now. Love was dangerous and unkind to sorcerers in particular. But, fuck, did he love it when you smiled at him like that, moving your attention away from the tank for a brief moment to point at something that had caught your eye.

“Gojo, look! It’s Nanami,” you said, a little grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

Gojo pushed himself off the wall and shuffled closer, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets for the single reason that he was fighting the urge to hold your hand. He’d had been thinking about it all day. Your delicate little fingers lacing with his. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have the warmth of your touch against his palm.

Pathetic behavior on his part, really.

The only way Gojo was going to make it through this little outing with his dignity intact was if he just kept his hands to himself. None of that touchy stuff. Wouldn’t want you catching on to the little crush he was nursing, would he? Gojo stopped next to you and peered over the edge of his darkened glasses into the tank.

A funny-looking thing with a clueless expression sat upon the reef with its jaw lazily moving up and down. It was a moray eel, poking its head out from a little hole in the rock to stare at the passing visitors. A set of gnarly little teeth gleamed in its maw but its most striking feature by far were the colors of its skin. It was reminiscent of a certain Nanami Kento’s fashionably questionable tie choices. Definitely. Yellow with brown speckles. A genuine, snorting laugh escaped him as one of his hands emerged from his pockets to ruffle your hair affectionately.

“You’re so mean, babycakes,” Gojo started, tacking on a sarcastic nickname at the end for good measure. It wasn’t flirting if he was being an ass about it, right? The moray eel stared at the glass and Gojo could feel his grin growing wider at the sight. Its emotionless, unmoving gaze was indeed very familiar to both of you. You were right, it did remind him of Nanami in that way. “He’s not that ugly.”

“The eel, or Nanami?” you asked, shoving your shoulder into Gojo’s side. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I didn’t mean it like that and you know it. Nanami could get it, don’t even try to deny it.”

A sharp stab of envy went through Gojo’s heart but his smirk never wavered. “Oh? Then why am I here and not him, huh?” The hand in your hair dropped down as he wrapped the arm around your neck and pulled you closer so he could whisper the following words into your ear. “Too shy to ask the guy out? It’s okay, you can tell me. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Your body jerked as it collided with Gojo’s chest. His beautiful blue eyes stared down at you from beyond the dark lenses of his glasses, his gaze unreadable as you slapped his firm pecs a few times. “Ha-ha, very funny, Gojo. I don’t have a thing for Nanami, okay? He’s just hot.”

Not only did you let him hold you without protest, but you also inadvertently admitted you preferred his company over Nanami’s. And you thought the guy was attractive. Which meant there was a good chance you thought Gojo was hot too. Gojo shouldn’t be relieved by this little piece of information – but he was.

“Aw, poor baby. You don’t have to deny it,” the man joked, trying to bait a confession from you in the most subtle way he was capable of. “He’s a catch I’m sure.” You saw one of Gojo’s eyebrows quirk up at his own pun as he pointed at the tank. Following the direction of his finger, you noticed the moray eel in the tank in front of you again. The unfortunate creature hastily retreated into its burrow as if it could somehow sense Gojo was making fun of it. He laughed watching it slink back into its lair.

“I don’t!” you fumed, stomping your foot just once on the floor. Gojo’s smirk only grew. You were extra adorable when he managed to get under your skin like this. “Besides, you’re more fun to hang out with anyway…”

There it was. Hearing you say that filled Gojo’s heart with pride and, dare he admit it, caused a little flutter too. Maybe you had asked him out because you liked him after all. And was that a blush on your cheeks? It was too dark to tell for certain you sure did feel warm in his arms.

“I know, babycakes, I know. No one compares to me, after all.”

A small victory — but a win is a win.

The way your pretty eyes looked at him right now was simply breathtaking. That small hint of surprise flickering in your gaze as you adjusted to feeling his arm around your neck, your hand resting against his chest. You’d never been this close to Gojo before. He liked the feeling of it. There was something so beautiful about your face in this light. The blue hues of the aquarium lighting cast rounded shadows on your cheeks, accentuating the highs of your face with a healthy glow. The more he looks, the more he sees and he finds himself wanting to look deeper. Into your very soul. Gojo didn’t even realize you had been holding his gaze for the longest time until you looked away first, eyes shyly traveling back to the fish in the tank. His eyes roamed over your face once more, relishing in the sight of your reddened cheeks before landing back on the fish in front of you.

Gojo had had his fun. He would back off for now. Couldn’t fluster you too much, right?

“Look at that,” Gojo said, pointing at a bunch of sea urchins heaped together against the glass. “A cluster of Megumis.”

You laughed – a sound so lively and bubbly to Gojo’s ears it would put the most beautiful symphony to shame. “You’re right, you’re right!” you said, waving a hand in front of your face in an attempt to calm your giggles. “They do look like him, holy shit…”

And just like that the tension he had caused was broken.

“What would Yuji be?”

You didn’t even have to think about that one. “Clownfish. Hands down.” His hair was even two colors and the kid seemed impervious to damage.

Gojo chuckled. “Hey, you’re pretty good at this. Nobara?”

“Venomous sea snake.” Another easy one. You paused for a second before turning to him with a worried little frown. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“My lips are sealed!” he swore, placing a solemn hand on his chest. Somehow, you doubted the validity of that claim. Perhaps your distrust had something to do with the shit-eating grin on the man’s lips. Gojo simply laughed in the face of your raised eyebrows. “I’m serious, I won’t tell her. So, what’s yours?”

“Mine?” you wondered out loud. Gojo watched you place a pensive hand under your chin as you ran through your mental library on all things aquatic life. Picking one for yourself was kind of difficult, there were a lot of different fish in the sea after all. It took you a few seconds but after a moment of thoughtful silence, your eyes lit up and a gasp escaped your lips. You had it! “Come with me!”

You grabbed Gojo’s hand without a second thought, dragging the man past several exhibits toward your favorite tank. Just like that. Like it was nothing to you. Gojo stared down at your hand in his as he trailed after you. Could you feel the fact that he’d disabled his Infinity, he wondered. It was like a precious little secret that he was keeping from you. Even in the most casual settings, the man always used his technique to protect himself. It came naturally to him — a bit too naturally in fact. Almost like a mindless compulsion to keep a barrier between himself and others at all times. That infinite, unfathomable space was the one thing that kept him safe. Both physically and metaphorically. He couldn’t help it.

And yet Gojo made an exception for you. Just like how you broke through the metaphysical barriers the sorcerer had constructed, you bypassed his Limitless as well. Albeit with his consent. It was a shamelessly self-indulgent move that he would never dream of telling you about. Your hand was every bit as soft and pleasant to hold as he imagined it would be.

Wait a minute — he wasn’t supposed to be touching you at all. Shit.

Well, it was too late to back out now. Besides, it felt nice to hold you. Even if it was just a temporary indulgence — for a little while, he could pretend you were his. Navigating the rest of the aquarium, you pulled Gojo towards a tank in the middle of the room. His eyes immediately honed in on the little creatures floating about in the salty water. It was a swarm of cute little jellyfish, elegantly floating in front of the two of you. The tank’s lighting changed colors, shifting across a beautiful range of neons. As the jellyfish continued their leisurely dance, their near-transparent bodies took on the hues of the lights, making for a beautiful display of moving colors.

You could barely contain your excitement and Gojo felt it too: you squeezed the palm of his hand at the sight of them. "They're like me, no brains but really cute."

He barked out a short laugh and shook his head, giving you an amused smile. “Now, now, give yourself some credit. That’s not the only thing you have in common. They might be dumb as bricks, but they’ve got a sting to them too. Like you.”

The fact that Gojo took your joke and ran with it made you crack a wide grin. He just added to the humor of it instead of loading you with false praise and you appreciated that. You cackled in response, muffling the noise with your free hand while the other was still firmly clasped in Gojo’s palm. This entire moment was delightful. Just the two of you in front of the jellyfish tank, having a laugh. "That's so rude," you said, grinning like an idiot. "I love it. C'mon, we've seen my assigned ocean creature. Let's go see yours, yeah?"

“You got one for me too? It better be something awesome. If it’s one of those goofy-looking crabs I’m never speaking to you again.” Gojo was a little skeptical after you low-key roasted all of his students and Nanami – he didn’t expect any different for himself.

“I promise you — you’re gonna love it.”

It took you a while to locate the right place – but once you found it, Gojo knew exactly where you were taking him. This tank was the largest one you’d seen on your trip by far, spanning the entire width and height of the room. Several species of fish lived in harmony within those waters but, most notably, it contained a number of bull sharks. You yanked Gojo along with you, practically running up to the glass to point at the sharp-toothed little brutes.

Of course, you had chosen a dangerous predator as his ocean creature. He wasn’t surprised by your choice in the slightest.

"Sharks are so fun," you said, giving Gojo’s hand another squeeze. "They look mean and scary but they're really big softies who like nose-rubs." As you spoke you watched the sharks swim around, eyes gleaming with something Gojo could only identify as adoration. "They're kinda like you in that sense. Big reputation, but not really all that bad once you get to know them."

That was — not what he had expected you to say.

People were afraid of sharks. They were hunters and thirsted for blood. There were countless movies going over the inherent fear these creatures inspired in the hearts of normal men. But that’s not why you chose them. You picked a shark because you liked them. The look in your eyes was filled to the brim with delight as you watched them swim by the glass. Not a single shred of fear in sight. That did something to Gojo. His heart warmed at the sight of you. The realization that you were trying so hard to understand and see him for more than just ‘the strongest’ was refreshing.

“They like nose-rubs?” Gojo didn’t quite think that was true – but then again, he didn’t know enough about sharks to dispute your claims.

“Yeah, like boop!” At that last word, you touched the tip of your finger to his nose and bounced it off. It hit Gojo so unexpectedly that he cracked a huge smile, both flabbergasted and in awe at the adorable little gesture.

You shouldn��t have done that. Gojo was already in love with you but that just sealed the deal. He couldn’t deny it any longer. He was silenced — lost for words as you gave him a bright smile.

This was happiness.

Gojo felt truly at peace by your side right now — a rarity for him these days. All he could hope was that you felt the same and managed to enjoy this moment of normalcy in the midst of your crazy lives. No curses or curse users to ruin it. Just you, him, and a bunch of fish.

You quietly leaned your head against Gojo's shoulder as you stood side by side, enjoying the view of the shark tank.

The sorcerer glanced at the sharks in the tank, feeling content as one of them swam up to the glass, almost like it was seeking your company. When you gave his hand another squeeze, Gojo smiled and returned the gesture. His heart pumped wildly in his chest upon experiencing your touch again. You had no idea how much he wanted to kiss you right now. It would be the perfect time for it too — but Gojo was too afraid. There would be no going back if he went through with this selfish urge to show you just how much you meant to him. He was being a coward, hardly worthy of being compared to fearsome sharks who liked nose-rubs.

You’d be disappointed if you knew how much he was pussyfooting around his own feelings right now.

"Can I kiss you?" Gojo asked quietly, the words just spilling out directly from the heart. It was an almost mindless request that he couldn’t stop himself from voicing in the silence of the moment. The second the words left his lips, Gojo’s heart leaped into his throat as you blinked back at him.

Oh no — Gojo froze — he’d fucked up, hadn’t he?

The question nearly threw you off balance. If you hadn't been holding Gojo’s hand to ground yourself, you might have floated off into space then and there. Suddenly, your fingers felt very warm against his. A little sweaty too. Uncertainty clung to the air between the two of you as you recovered from the shock to your system that his words had left you with. The silence was deafening. Your lips parted slightly as you took in a shallow breath to speak but you stopped yourself, unable to answer. Gojo couldn’t stand it.

But then you nodded. And that was all he needed to give in.

Gojo gently pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your waist. It felt right. Whatever inhibitions he had vanished the moment his eyes found yours. He let out an amused little chuckle at the expression on your face. You looked so beautiful and dumbstruck by his forwardness. That alone made this moment worth it.

Your eyes fluttered shut as Gojo's lips connected. There was something so beautiful about this kiss. Standing in each other's arms in the company of sharks. You felt a rush going directly to your head. It was almost as if you were on the ocean floor itself right now, surrounded by such beauty and the soaring of your heart felt like waves crashing against the shore. Gojo was gentle at first but all that pent-up longing began to spill out rather quickly once he’d taken the breaks off. One of his hands grasped the back of your neck, locking your lips against his as he deepened the kiss. There was a certain uncanny desperation to his movements — like he was worried you might vanish if he didn’t kiss you hard enough. He was drowning in your presence and couldn’t be happier about his inability to breathe. Your lips were every bit as sweet as he’d dreamed they would be. Nothing could compare to your taste. Gojo hummed against your mouth, delighted and relieved now that he’d finally taken the plunge into the deep. Every second he’d spent fighting his feelings had been such a waste. But that was behind him now.

When he finally parted from your lips, your face felt like it was burning. It was probably a good thing the shark exhibit was so dark or Gojo would absolutely make fun of your flushed expression.

He broke the silence first. “That was more than a little jelly sting, wasn’t it?”

“Do you need me to pee on it?” you quipped, coaxing a little chortle from the man’s throat.

Gojo shook his head. Way to ruin the moment — but he wouldn’t have it any other way though. “You’re disgusting. Cute and irresistible. But absolutely disgusting.”

“I know, it’s part of my charm.”

“It is.” Gojo placed another quick peck against your lips. It was so quick and sweet that you barely registered it – but caused a little flutter in your stomach.

“What happens now?”

Gojo raised a brow at your question. He knew you meant ‘what now between us’ but he simply couldn’t resist messing with you a little more. “Now,” the man started, placing his hands on your hips and giving them a little squeeze. You felt so soft and warm, it was heavenly. His breath tickled your neck as Gojo leaned in to whisper seductively into your ear. “Now…I’m gonna break into the turtle enclosure.”

“Gojo—don’t.”

If you liked this, please leave a little reply or reblog | MASTERLIST

#gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru

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piastrisslut · 11 months

Text

opposites attract - op81

oscar piastri x fem!reader

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warnings: 18+ lol minors dni, shit awful writing, smut, reader's kinda alternative and has tattoos all over them, pnv, unprotected sex, cussing, im sorry in advance for this i didnt rly proofread it

not requested, but do send me requests :)

notes: this was so so inspired by an oscar smut i read by @/pitlanepages, you can find it and read it here, awesome work 10/10 would read over and over!! also i'll probably cringe at this when i reread it and proceed to delete it but lets see

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you’ve dated oscar for quite a while by now, yet you took things slow, never having done the deed. he was extremely loving and caring, always being your number-one supporter for even the most minuscule of your achievements.

and so once you went public about your relationship, fans went insane on how oscar managed to bag you, you being the complete opposite of the average formula one driver’s girlfriend, littered with tattoos and having quite a few piercings. you had a rockstar vibe to you, and that’s what you were. you had a band of your own and released music every so often, and at a glance, it often seemed like you and oscar were opposites.

you tagged along with oscar at a pr event he had today, wearing a silky long black dress. he helped you put it on, and his eyes and hands lingered on your body for a little longer than you were used to. you didn’t miss how his eyes darkened the tiniest bit when they roamed your body, and his hand never left your waist the entire event.

as you left the aforementioned pr event, his hand remained on your lower thigh on the ride back home, and you didn’t hesitate to pull his hand up your thigh a bit more, a sly smile finding itself on your face.

by the time he unlocked the door to his apartment, he couldn’t help but put his lips on yours, finally able to show you what you did to him by simply wearing that dress. the kiss wasn’t soft, but it was certainly passionate. he slid his hand down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. you melted into the kiss, biting his lip ever so slightly as he groaned quietly. you pulled away, resting your forehead on his, only thing heard between you both was heavy breathing.

“you looked so good tonight, sweetheart. i’ve been waiting for this all night,” he said, his voice the tiniest bit deeper than usual. you smiled, biting your lip as you put your lips on his again, this time the kiss was more fiery, more passionate. it was unlike any other kiss either of you had shared, your hands tangling themselves in his soft brown hair you had convinced him to grow out.

his lips trailed down to your neck, kissing it and sucking the tiniest bit as you tilted your head backwards, giving him more space to mark you as his. he kissed a small tattoo you had behind your ear, as you let out a small giggle at the ticklish feeling. he went back to kissing and biting your neck, before he played with the strap of your dress, silently pleading with his eyes.

“are you okay with this?” he softly asked, his eyes slightly glimmering under the artificial lighting above him.

“fuck yes, oscar. i’ve been waiting for this forever.” you smiled, kissing him once more before dragging him to the room both of you shared.

you littered his neck with kisses as well, leaving a faint mark on his collarbone. you unbuttoned his shirt and trailed your hands down his body ever so lightly, his breath hitching at the feeling. you helped him take his trousers off too, which you could clearly see a bulge poking out of. once those were off, you slowly got on your knees and palmed him through his boxers. you peeled them off of him teasingly, while he let out a sigh at the feeling of the cold air hitting him and watched it slightly smack his lower abdomen. you couldn’t help but let out a giggle at how aroused he was.

“this is a bit unfair, don’t you think?” he asked as you got on your knees.

“not yet oscar, just you wait, pretty boy,” you said.

“ah fuck,” he groaned at the nickname you had given him.

you pumped his shaft up and down to get him completely hard, looking up at him smugly.

“all this is ‘cause of me? you’re so cute, oscar,” you said, before you took him into your mouth. he wasn’t small, but you took just the tip into your mouth as you swirled your tongue around him, pumping the rest of him with your hands. he groaned and threw his head back, before looking down at you. the look in your eyes drove him mad, he couldn’t control himself as he tangled his hands in your hair, guiding you.

his groans only got louder as you took his whole length in, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat, his hands slightly pushing you forward, tears prickling your eyes and threatening to ruin your makeup. just as you could tell he was about to release, you pulled away, an innocent smile on your face. he let out a small whine.

“why would you do that, you fucking tease? part of me wanted to see your makeup all ruined,” he whined as you got up, the statement quickly turning into him teasing you in return.

“just want you to cum inside me, oscar. is that too much to ask for?” you said, as he let out a sigh in response, softly grabbing the bottom of your chin and running his thumb across your lips.

he couldn’t help but smash your lips onto his once again, this time his confidence overtook him as his hands found the zipper to your dress, unzipping it a bit. you pulled away, turning around so he’d fully take it off. as he unzipped the dress, his hands trailing down your back and the tattoo you had on your back. his touch sent shivers down your spine as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“fuck, you don’t know what your tattoos do to me sometimes,” he mumbled.

“yeah? you’re gonna discover every single one of them today, baby,” you said in a silky tone. your dress fell off your shoulders as you turned back around, his eyes roaming down to your chest as he muttered a curse word under his breath.

“you’re so fucking gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous,” he said, trailing his hands down from your collarbone to your chest. his hands landed on your pierced nipple. he couldn’t help but twirl his fingers around it, as you let out a sigh.

he traced the tattoo you had on your sternum, looking up at you as you watched him intently. his fingers eventually slipped down to your hips, tracing the tattoo you had on your hips as well, hooking his fingers onto the waistband of your thong and letting it snap against your soft skin.

“you knew this was going to happen didn’t you?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at you. you let out a small giggle and bit your lip.

“maybe, now hurry up and take it off before i do it myself,” you responded.

“fine, then.” he dragged your underwear down and you jumped out of it. he smashed his lips against yours for what seemed like the tenth time today, as he turned you around and laid you down on your shared bed, crawling on top of you and then pulling away.

he kissed down your torso, kissing and biting every tattoo that marked your body and kissed your clit. you let out a whimper as he saw how you glistened underneath him.

“fuck, every part of you is gorgeous. all for me too, hm?” he grinned. he then rubbed his tip up and down your folds, coating himself in your slick as you desperately waited for him to enter you.

he slowly pushed himself in as you let out a loud moan, feeling oscar stretch you out. he hissed at how tight you were around him, as he eventually entered you completely.

“shit, oscar.” you gasped, feeling like he was splitting you in half.

“you alright? let me know when i can move,” he reassured, his hand on your jaw stroking your face with his thumb.

“move, please, oscar.” you whimpered a bit later, clenching around his length.

“as you wish,” a slight grin could be seen on his features as he began slowly thrusting. he let out small grunts, biting his lip in an attempt to silence them.

“n-no, i wanna hear you.” you breathlessly said, looking up at him. the look in your eyes drove him insane, he couldn’t say no to you with the helpless look you had given him.

“holy shit, you have no idea what you do to me.” he breathlessly let out, thrusting into you harder, eventually reaching the spot where you needed him most. your eyes rolled to the back of your head for a moment as you let out desperate moans. he grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them above your head with one of his hands.

“fuck yes oscar, just like that, just like that.” he took your words as encouragement his thrusts got deeper as you neared your climax, clenching around him as you struggled to maintain your composure. the sounds of skin slapping, moans, and low grunts were all that could be heard from the room both of you were in.

“you wanna cum, sweetheart?” he teased, a smug smile on his face. you could barely respond at this point, lost in the pleasure you felt. his free hand went to apply pressure on your clit, momentarily breaking his eye contact with you before looking at your fucked out expression.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, yes oscar. please, i need it.” you let out through broken moans and flushed cheeks. his thrusts became sloppier as you felt him twitch inside you, and as the little sounds he made grew in volume and pitch.

“can i— come inside you?” he barely managed to get out, both of your climaxes nearing.

“yes, fuck please,” you moaned out, as you came to your climax, and a glance of your breasts moving below him, along with how you clenched around him brought him to his with one last thrust as he let out your name in a broken whisper.

he slowly pulled out of you, his seed dripping out of your cunt as shivers ran through your whole body. he fingered it back inside with a smile on his face as you struggled to catch your breath, bringing two of his digits into your mouth. you took his fingers in and sucked, barely focused.

“how do we taste, hm?” he said, that stupid grin still on his face.

“good, great, fuck. that was… wow,” you said, regaining your breath.

“yeah, i know.” the grin turned into a cocky smile as he laid down next to you, pulling you into his chest as you drifted off to sleep.

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oh how i hate this lol

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 smut #formula 1 imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader smut #formula 1 x y/n

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flowerandblood · 11 months

Text

Robbed and gifted (1/6)

[ arranged marriage • modern!Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, violence ]

[description: (Anon Request) She and Aemond are faced with a situation, where they must form a fictitious marriage. They are complete strangers to each other, who cannot find themselves in a new reality. When his wife stands up for him at a family dinner, something changes between them. Smut, angst and a lot of sexual tension.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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She had only signed a few sheets of paper, but she felt as if she had sold herself to a slave market. She despised herself and her uncle. His proposal. She despised her husband and his father. That they made a deal with each other over their heads, making their artificial marriage a route to easy cash flow and money laundering.

She was surprised when her uncle, Arthur, her mother's brother, called her with the proposal. When he offered to pay for her college and financially support her parents, who were in debt because of her father's gambling addiction, she thought he must be crazy.

Then he began to mention a family with whom he had close ties. About the young man who was their son. About how she could help him a lot, and with this favor ensure her future and safety.

“We would need this marriage for about a year, maximum two, so that our money would be filtered through your bank accounts in several tranches. Your community of property will make things easier for us - and then you can divorce." He said as they sat in a small restaurant where he had invited her.

She was about to take a piece of spaghetti in her mouth but she put the cutlery on the plate, staring at him with her mouth open. She didn't believe what she just heard.

"You want to sell me?" She asked, feeling her whole body tense, cold sweat running down her neck. Her uncle laughed, taking a sip of wine from his glass.

"Of course not. You are only to make appearances. Of course, we wouldn't want the rest of the family to know about this deal, so you'd have to live in the same apartment in case someone came to visit you, and show up at family events once in a while. What you do privately is up to you. It is as if you have been given an assignment and a mission for a certain period of time for which you will both be handsomely paid.” He said with a calmness and serenity that terrified her. She wondered how he could talk about such things so lightly.

"Are you proposing me a sham marriage to a stranger for money?" She asked, pale, her eyes wide, her hands trembling slightly. Her uncle smiled warmly at her.

“I offer to take care of your future, for your small favor and sacrifice. Think about this." He said, putting some bills on the table, definitely more than their dinner was worth and left, leaving her with disbelief written on her face.

She came home angry and distraught. She felt that her uncle treated her like garbage, like a bargaining chip, an item that he could put up for auction. She felt an unpleasant lump in her pit as she saw that her father was gone again.

She walked over to her mom who was just lying on the couch watching TV, bored. She stood for a moment in the doorway of the room, pursed her lips.

"Where is dad?" She asked quietly. Her mother shrugged.

"Probably where he always is." She murmured, taking a sip of tea from a large mug. She felt a tightness in her pit at her words. She went to her room without asking for anything else.

In the night, she heard the sound of a door opening, followed by a loud thud and a scream. She saw the hallway light was on and peeked through the door, opening it slightly. Her mother was standing over her father who lay slumped against the wall, drunk, his vision completely blurred.

"How do you look? How much have you lost on those fucking slot machines again today?" She asked low, angry.

She saw her mother kick her father in the stomach. She cringed, as if she felt the pain too. Her father was only moaning, what she might call gibberish. Her mother began to sob and continued to yell at him. She slipped into her room, closing the door, feeling her whole hands tremble.

The next day she called her uncle, saying that she agreed to his proposal.

She just wanted him to take her away.

Then everything went fast. She had to appear at the Registry Office to sign the documents, together with her fictitious husband. She saw him for the first time and this was not how she had imagined him.

The fact that he was dressed all in black made him look very pale. His blindfold made her think that he was some kind of character in a movie, not a real person. As if it was all some kind of theater in which she played one of the main roles. She thought, looking down at her short, flowing black dress that they were both dressed as if they were going to a funeral.

When everything was settled, Aemond, as it turned out was her current husband's name, simply left the room without saying even a polite farewell. She looked down at her feet, pursed her lips, and decided that he owed her nothing. Neither she to him.

She wasn't going to take her frustrations out on him.

Her parents were privy to the whole thing. They were furious at first, but when her uncle gave them the exact numbers that they would get for it and the payment of their father's debts, they both calmed down and decided that two years wasn't that long after all.

She stared blankly at them, wondering who these people were at all. They seemed alien and distant to her as never before.

In accordance with her uncle's demands, she had to move into her husband's apartment. She had wanted to vomit just thinking about it for most of the morning. She felt like a puppet controlled by someone else. As if she sold her life for a few bills. She thought that maybe she wasn't so different from her parents after all, and the thought hit her hard.

She came with a moving team. Aemond showed them a room to set up her bookshelf, desk, and any other furniture she wanted to take. It was obvious to her that they would sleep separately, almost as if they were roommates. Aemond didn't say a word to her as the men brought in everything and she paced the apartment, looking around.

The apartment was large and had huge windows, the walls were white, so it seemed very bright and pleasant inside. She saw a lot of old oak furniture and plants.

She thought she liked it here.

That whoever her husband was, he had good taste.

She heard the door close suddenly and then there was silence. She felt her heart start pounding.

She turned towards him. He stood in the corridor and looked at her dispassionately, as if she were an intruder, a whore greedy for money, someone empty and worthless. She felt it in every cell of her body, but she couldn't be mad at him.

Part of her wanted him to treat her that way.

"I have someone." He spoke calmly, coolly, empty. "So I don't want you asking me who and where I'm going out with. I hope that's clear."

He said it in such a way that she felt, as if he had slapped her in the face. She swallowed hard, looking away. For some reason she wanted to cry, her hands were shaking. After a moment she forced herself to choke something out.

"I wouldn't dare to expect that. I'm sorry." She said, although she did not know for what.

She saw something change in his eyesight, his pupil narrowed, his mouth tightened. She thought his expression looked almost sympathetic for a moment. He nodded.

"Make yourself comfortable." He finally said a little softer and turned away, opening one of the rooms and locking himself in. Only then did she allow tears to run down her face.

For the next few days he wasn't in the apartment. It didn't bother her, she felt more at ease then, she wasn't afraid to go to the kitchen or the living room. She didn't go into his office or bedroom, thinking it was impolite.

She spent her days filling out college papers and buying books. The thought that she would actually go to medical school cheered her up.

One night, lying in bed, she heard a soft turn of the lock, and then saw that someone had turned on the light in the corridor. Her heart pounded at the thought that he was back.

She thought that he must have forgotten something or had come for some clean clothes and was about to leave again, but he hadn't. She heard him turn off the light in the hall and lock himself in his office. Her throat tightened.

She spent the rest of the night spinning around, unable to sleep a wink. She got up at dawn, unable to bear it any longer, and went to the kitchen. There was practically nothing in the fridge.

She thought then that they might live apart, but that didn't mean that they had to dislike each other. She decided to go shopping and make them breakfast.

Lighten up the atmosphere somehow.

She quickly went to the store for fresh rolls and vegetables, eggs, cheese and ham. When she returned, she decided to make sandwiches with fresh lettuce, radish, tomato and chives with a delicious sauce, and casseroles, which she put in the oven in the meantime.

She flinched as she heard the sound of the door opening. She heard Aemond enter the bathroom. She felt her hands tremble.

After a while he left the room and went into the kitchen. He measured the large plate on the table where she had placed her sandwiches. He headed for the coffee machine and she plucked up the courage to say something.

"I made us breakfast." She said and cut him off quickly, seeing that he wanted to tell her to give up her efforts because it wouldn't work anyway.

“It will be hard for two years to pretend we don't see each other. Can't we just be roommates like in college? Who sometimes meet in between and talk?" She asked quietly with a warm smile. She felt him tense as he stared at her, his face set to stone.

"You mean college like the one that you're going to, that was paid for with my money?" He asked suddenly, and she looked at him, shocked. She opened her mouth, feeling her entire stomach clench, shaking her head.

"I…my uncle told me…" She stammered, but he didn't let her finish.

“Your uncle is just a venal pig. Just like your whole family, apparently." He said it so calmly and dispassionately, that she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She stared at the bun that she had just sliced and put the knife aside, her lips pressed together.

"I didn't know." She whispered. He chuckled at her words, but it was ironic, aloof, incredulous laugh.

"Right. You women never know. Everything around you happens by itself.” He hissed as he took his coffee mug and left the kitchen, locking himself in his office.

She took several sandwitches in her hand, breathing raggedly, wiping her tears and nose, as she wrapped them in cling film for him. She knew that he'd be leaving for work soon, so she wanted to at least give them to him for lunch.

When she got home after going to the college she saw, that what she had left at his door, wrapped in a cardboard box, he had thrown into the bin.

She gave up trying to make contact with him. It made her cry often, feeling like an intruder and knowing what he thought of her. She started classes but she wasn't proud of it at all. She was convinced that she was like a parasite that clung to him. She wasn't surprised that he couldn't look at her.

He tried to pretend that she didn't exist.

One day, he surprised her by knocking on her bedroom door. Since their exchange she ate alone, not in the dining room. She opened the door. He didn't even look at her when he was talking to her.

"Get ready. We're going to my parents' house in an hour. My family wants to meet you." He said indifferently and turned away, disappearing back into the living room. She felt as if someone had poured ice cubes into her body.

She felt like she was about to die.

She put on a pretty, blue, girlish dress with tiny flowers and let her hair down. She decided that she couldn't embarrass him and had to present herself as best as she could.

She left the room and told him that she was ready. She saw him look her up and down as if to see, if she looked acceptable, then nodded and they both left the apartment.

They rode in complete silence, listening to the radio. She flinched when she heard his voice.

“We met by chance at one of the business events. You were there with your uncle. We fell in love right away. We kept our relationship a secret for a year. Do you understand?” He asked with emphasis on the last words, his voice as cold as ice. She swallowed loudly.

"Yes."

As they entered his house, she smiled widely. She decided to play her role as best as she could. His mother, Alicent, hugged her tightly. It seemed to her, that she knew nothing about what was really going on between them.

Their house was huge, modern, terrifyingly opulent. She felt uncomfortable there, as if something was missing. She sat down at the table in the indicated place and she was immediately bombarded with questions.

Aemond sat next to her, crossing his legs and placing his hand on her thigh. She looked at him in surprise, and he didn't even glance at her. She thought that he was trying to pretend, just like she was.

At the table were his father, mother, and siblings, but also his sister from his father's second marriage, Rhaenyra, with her children and now-husband, Daemon. From what she understood, they were all in the big family banking business.

They talked to her about things that she didn't understand at all, but she nodded and talked to them about nothing. If there was one thing she was good at it was simple, warm chatting. People opened up to her easily because she created a comfortable field for them to discuss.

Wine was poured with dinner. So many dishes were placed before them, that she did not know where to look. She saw a lot of cutlery in front of her and thought that she felt like in that movie, where they sit some worker at the table with the nobility and make him guess which fork is for what. She shuddered, snapped out of her thoughts when she heard her husband's voice in her ear.

"I don't advise you to take soup or roast, because everyone will be looking at you." He said indifferently, serving himself the soup. Apparently, what he meant was that his family for some reason cared a lot about how someone ate. She asked what he could offer her.

"Everything but roasts and soups." He said dryly and she rolled her eyes, impatient with his behavior. She saw him purse his lips at the sight, displeased, his hand tightening on the skin of her thigh.

"Don't make faces like that." He whispered through clenched teeth, looking at her sharply. She looked at him expectantly.

"Decide for me, husband. Let your will be done." She whispered, leaning over him, her moist lips slightly parted.

She saw his gaze flit from her eyes to her lips, then back to her eyes. He tapped his finger against her knee, as if he was thinking hard about something.

"Careful." He said low and she shivered.

After a moment he looked away, leaning over the table, reaching for a salad. Pretending, that nothing had happened she poured some of it on her plate and began to eat. She hasn't had anything in her mouth since morning.

Suddenly, Viserys and Daemon went from light subjects and stories to business topics. Although Alicent tried to add a funny anecdote, Daemon interrupted her, continuing his thought.

"I mean, if you don't have anyone to give it all to, what's the point of all this?" He asked, spreading his hands.

"I think Jace would be a better fit." He said, several people moved uneasily on their seats.

She saw Aemond reach for the glass of wine in front of him and take a swig from it, taut as a string, in his eye a fury and madness that she had never seen in another human being. After a while his father spoke up.

"Well, that's a bit of an unfair assessment on your part. However, I agree that Aemond is not as dedicated to the company as I would like.” He said. Her husband put his glass down loudly on the table, so that everyone turned their eyes to him.

"Are you fucking serious? I am not sacrificing enough for the company?” He hissed, she could feel him boiling. His hand on her thigh was clenched into a fist.

She swallowed hard, looking from him to his father. His father shifted uneasily in his seat, knowing what he was implying.

“What can I say, math is absolute. Your results could be better." He said, spreading his hands, speaking lightly as if it didn't really matter. "But of course everyone can have a bad time, it's natural."

Aemond leaned back against the back of the chair, his mouth slightly parted, his chest heaving and restless. She had seen, going to the bathroom at night, that the light was on in his office late into the night. That if he wasn't with his woman, he was still working. For some reason her heart clenched tight.

“My husband works from morning to night. Even when I'm asleep he's still doing reports. Are the results he is supposed to strive for even achievable?” She blurted out suddenly, frowning, causing silence at the table.

Feeling a cold sweat on her back, she glanced quickly at Aemond, fearing that he would kill her for the outburst. But he just stared at her, his gaze expressing disbelief, his mouth slightly parted.

He cleared his throat, taking a glass in his hand and taking another sip of wine, several people at the table looked at each other. His father smiled knowingly at her.

"It's nice to see such a loving and devoted married couple." He spoke calmly and she felt a lump in her throat.

She knew that he was the only one in the party who understood what their marriage really was, and he was mocking her. She flinched as Aemond abruptly got up from the table, throwing his napkin on it.

"We're leaving." He said dryly to her as he headed for the hallway. She stood up quickly, following him, terrified. His mother tried to stop them, but he didn't even look at her.

"He humiliated me and you didn't fucking say anything, as usual." He said coldly to his mother, slamming the car door behind him.

She humbly sat in the passenger side, fastening her seatbelts and closing the door behind her. He took off with a squeal of tires, causing her to be pinned to the seat for a moment.

He didn't even turn on the radio, lost in his thoughts, running his free hand over his chin and mouth. She thought, looking at him closely, that he was a really handsome man.

She smiled slightly at the thought and he looked at her suddenly. She swallowed hard and looked away.

They entered the apartment without a word. She thought that he was going to lock himself in his office as usual, but he didn't. He went to the living room and started rummaging in the bar. She stood in the corridor, not knowing what to do. She wanted to go to her bedroom, but his voice stopped her.

"Would you like a drink?" He asked indifferently, looking at her from a distance. She swallowed hard, feeling her whole body tremble. She thought that maybe this was the moment.

That maybe they will get closer to each other.

She nodded, and he took the other glass from his bar without a word. She entered the living room hesitantly, watching as he poured himself a drink. He looked at her expectantly.

"What are you drinking? Wine?" He asked, but she shook her head.

"Vodka. Vodka with orange juice." She said softly, the corner of her mouth turning up into a slight smile.

She saw the surprise in his eye, and then something like amusement flashed across his face. He made the drink she asked for and gave it to her.

He walked around the couch and sat on it, sighing heavily, covering his face with his hand. She sat down next to him at a safe distance, pulling her legs under her buttocks, making herself comfortable. For a while they just drank their drinks in silence, not even looking at each other.

“My mother in twenty-eight years of my life never stood up for me, and a strange girl did. Funny, don't you think?" He chuckled lowly, but he didn't sound like he was enjoying it at all. She dropped her gaze, sighing softly.

"I'm sorry. All my life I watched my mother humiliate my father. I tried to defend him, but one day he told me not to do it." She said, pressing her lips together, inhaling loudly.

She realized that she had never said that out loud to anyone. She was afraid to look at his reaction. After a moment, she turned to face him. He looked at her thoughtfully, his expression unreadable.

"Your father is a gambler." He said low, more stating than asking. She nodded, embarrassed, looking down, taking a swig of her drink, fiddling with the glass in her hand.

"Did your mother ever hit you?" He asked suddenly, and she looked at him in surprise.

She didn't want to tell him about it, in fact, she'd rather forget about it altogether. She looked away, pursed her lips, her body trembling. For a moment she was unable to utter a word.

“When she was angry with me, she pretended I didn't exist. Sometimes for a day, sometimes for a week. She didn't anserw me when I spoke to her, she didn't look at me, she didn't make me breakfast for school or lunch, she didn't drive me to school. As if she didn't have a child." She said and pursed her lips, feeling tears welling up.

"That's why I can't stand it, when you pretend I don't live here." She said with a shrug, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her lower lip trembled slightly.

"I have no intention of imposing on you and I swear, I didn't know my uncle would take my college money from you." She spoke honestly, truthfully. She was having a little trouble breathing normally, her body shaking slightly.

A strong, violent shudder went through her, as she felt his large hand on her thigh. She wasn't able to move as he rode her higher, to her hips, then lower again, to her knee. She thought it was the alcohol, that they both didn't know what they were doing, but she felt wetness between her thighs.

"Look at me." He said softly, almost mildly for the way he usually spoke. She was unable to comply with his request, her body froze completely, trembling slightly.

Her lips parted slightly as she felt his hand slowly move to her hips again, but this time it slipped between her thighs. Her breath caught in her throat.

She shifted and twisted as she felt him massage her there with slow, gentle strokes. She felt her nipples harden and thought it must have showed through the thin fabric of her dress.

She thought that she needed this. She desperately needed someone's closeness, relaxation, pleasure, acceptance. Everything at once.

She didn't flinch as his thumb pushed the fabric of her panties aside and his fingers ran over her wet, throbbing, hot entrance. She heard him draw in a whistling breath, her hand set her glass lightly on the table next to her, her breathing ragged and quick.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked so quietly and uncertainly that she shivered.

She parted her shiny, swollen lips slightly, his fingers pressing steadily against her, teasing her clit. She couldn't stop her hips from moving towards his hand, a wonderful warmth spreading over her lower abdomen every time he rubbed her.

“No.” She whispered and he jumped up suddenly.

In one swift motion, he placed her on her side, laying down behind her back. She heard the sound of her belt being unfastened and shivered all over, her wetness running down her thighs. She didn't look at him, her chest heaving fast. She wondered what they were doing.

She squealed softly as he pulled her against him, feeling the material of his shirt against her back, his hot breath, his mouth against her ear, his nose teasing her cheek.

"How about we get to know each other better now? For the sake of our common, platonic acquaintance." He hummed, she heard him undo his pants, his throbbing, hard manhood hitting her buttocks hidden under her dress. She felt a tickling heat run through her body at the sensation.

"Y-yes, I guess, that's a good idea" She mumbled softly, it seemed to her that everything around her was hazy, her head was spinning with lust and desire. She thought it was pathetic, but all she wanted was to feel him inside her.

A soft moan escaped her lips as she felt him slide her panties off her thighs in one, swift motion, his large hands pulling up the fabric of her dress so that she could feel him now, hard and swollen.

She involuntarily lifted her thigh, allowing him to slip in, rubbing against her hot juices. She heard him inhale loudly at the sensation, snuggling her closer to his chest. They both sobbed as the tip of his cock began to press against her, pushing a little into her throbbing, fleshy inside.

"I'll just slide him in for a moment." He whispered, panting with her, their bodies shivering as he thrust deeper into her, pushing her hot walls to the limit.

"Mhm" It was all she could muster.

She moaned sweetly as he slid all the way into her, then began to move inside her suddenly, imposing an intense, fast pace, his thighs slapping wetly against her buttocks, soaked in her juices. They both gasped loudly and groaned alternately, her hand tightening on his arm which wrapped around her waist.

"Jesus Christ" He panted, feeling how tight she was, clenching around him, all hot and wet.

He sped up even more, thrusting into her more aggressively, his cock digging in with a loud slap, stretching her throbbing, swollen muscles, they both felt surprisingly close to fullfilment. He tightened his hand on her thigh which he held slightly up, allowing himself to thrust even deeper.

She sobbed loudly, as she felt his cock rubbing her exactly where she needed to, building up unbearable tension in her. She could feel his hot, quick breath on her cheek, she knew he needed it as much as she did.

If she could think coldly at that moment, she would wonder why he didn't go to his woman, but right now all she wanted was to be fulfilled.

"I'll stop soon, I promise" He whispered in her ear, and she felt such a strong shiver at his words, that she just came. She sobbed loudly, her eyebrows twisted in pain, her mouth parted in a silent moan. She heard him groan low, feeling her walls begin to tighten on him, his thrusts quick, brutal and sure.

"Oh, fuck, yes" He gasped loudly and came hard, moving for a moment longer, his cum flowing in waves inside her. They were both panting, trembling in disbelief, his terrified voice rousing her.

"You're taking pills, right?" He asked as if the pleasure had taken away his common sense. She just nodded, not having the strength to say anything.

She heard his loud exhale of relief, then his nose buried in her hair. They lay there, trying to calm down, she felt his chest rise and fall steadily, his soft cock still throbbing inside her.

She felt that both of them realized what they had done. He slid out of her suddenly, and she covered her buttocks with the dress, swallowing loudly.

She could feel his cum flowing out of her straight onto the couch. He saw it as he got up, zipping up his pants. He swallowed hard, looking at her with black eye. He got up from the couch, obviously not knowing what to say for a moment. In the end he managed only two words as he headed towards his bedroom.

"Good night."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13

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