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gojorgeous · 4 months

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"MINE, MINE, MINE."

pairing: alpha!geto x omega!fem!reader summary: your doctor won’t refill your prescription until you’ve reset your cycle. you’re desperate for that refill, but geto’s not having it. content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), a/b/o dynamics, nsfw, dubcon? (reader doesn’t want a heat but it’s medically necessary (LMAO what)), established relationship, unprotected sex, breeding, praise, pet names, knotting, slight manipulation, dacryphilia, somnophilia, spit, blood, oral (fem!receiving), so much licking and smelling?, geto and reader are just downright feral LMAO, lmk if i missed anything. a/n: have y’all figured out that i have a breeding kink yet… anyway, this is the first a/b/o fic that i’ve ever written but i just read one and was feeling *inspired*. if people want i might do a prequel sort of thing for this that goes more in-depth about how they met and stuff. lmk! also, i have a vampire gojo fic planned hehe get ready bbs. if you want more of my omegaverse fics check out my alpha!gojo fic here! and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! divider credit to: @cafekitsune wc: 5.2k

“No.”

No? You shift in your seat, cold and plastic, sure you must have heard him wrong.

“I’m sorry?” you ask. You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, an anxious habit.

“I can’t refill the prescription. I’m sorry, but, frankly, it would be completely irresponsible of me to do so. I’m shocked your previous physician prescribed them for so long.” Fingers find yours and twine them together. Your eyes flash to Geto, but he’s only staring at your new doctor, staring with that furrow in his brow he only gets when he’s worried.

Your new, soon-to-be old, doctor sighs again, running a hand through his thinning white hair. “You need to have a heat as soon as possible, allow your body to recalibrate. Indefinite use of suppressants is dangerous and unhealthy. They are meant to manage your cycles, not stop them altogether.”

Sweat beads on your palms. He can’t be serious. But it’s his first opinion. Surely there’s another option.

“I-I’m sorry, doctor. I don’t think I’m understanding.”

Another glance at Geto reveals that he’s frowning now. When his eyes find yours you see the decision there, one he’s already made without you. Your stomach drops.

The doctor sighs and suddenly the walls of the office feel small, tight, suffocating. The twinge of alcohol and chemicals in the air makes your nose scrunch. “Let me say this clearly. I will not refill your prescription for suppressants, nor will any other reputable physician. You have been taking them continuously for far too long. You risk permanent damage should you delay a proper cycle any longer.” The doctor glances to Geto, then back to you. “Go home with your alpha and allow nature to take its course. It’s what’s best.”

Your eyes widen with realization– you are not leaving this office with what you came for. Your heart pounds and your palms sweat. “Th-that can’t happen, doctor. I need my suppressants. My job- I can’t be out that long a-and Geto can’t either, we–”

“We will go home,” Geto interrupts, and his tone is final. “Thank you, doctor, for the advice.”

Geto pulls you to your feet, gently but firmly. He leaves no question about the fact that you’re leaving. You can feel the intensity radiating off him in waves. You ignore it. You turn to your new doctor, silently smiting him. Why did your old one have to retire?

“Doctor, you don’t underst–”

“Thank you again,” Geto interrupts.

Before you can make another sound, another protest, Geto pulls you through the door, out of the office, and back to the car. He opens the door for you, as he always does, except this time you’re not so eager to accept his chivalry.

“Suguru,” you bite out. His eyes meet yours, but they are surprisingly gentle. So calm. How is he always calm?

“Just get in, baby. We’ll talk about it in the car.”

You debate saying no, but you can’t bring yourself to start a fight when he’s being so good. You grumble when you climb in, buckling your seatbelt before Geto can do it for you.

The engine revs to life, but you hardly notice. You’re already scrolling your phone, the search bar reading a simple and straightforward “doctors offices near me”. You scroll right past the first ten, for once in your life wanting a doctor that’s a little sketchy. You scroll further– still not sketchy enough. Someone who’ll give you the prescription you need, even if it’s not necessarily… ethical. Or maybe you could get some on the street? Surely there was some kind of dealing ring for that. There was a dealing ring for everything, right?

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, but his fingers are tight around the steering wheel, skin stretched tight across his knuckles.

You lift your phone to your ear, dialing the first office that looked relatively shitty enough. “Getting a second opinion,” you answer.

Suguru plucks the phone so swiftly from your fingers that you hardly even notice it’s gone. You see him end the call and slip it into his back pocket, out of your reach.

“Hey!” You scramble across the center console, hopelessly grabbing at your lost phone, your last hope.

Suguru grabs your wrist, restraining you far too easily for your liking. “You’re not getting it back,” he says. His eyes never leave the road.

Your brows pinch and anger boils in your stomach. “This is not for you to decide. It’s my body.”

He glances at you, unconcerned. Still calm. “And you’re not in a headspace to be making a responsible decision about it, so I’m making it for you.”

Your jaw drops and you pry your wrist free of his grasp. You escape, but you know it’s only because he allows it. “I am of perfectly sound mind, thank you.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re blinded by desperation.”

“It’s still not for you to decide!” When you don’t notice any change in his expression, you switch tactics– from anger to honesty. You let your face fall, let your true feelings creep through. “You know how much I hate it, Su.”

Finally, he cracks. It’s instantaneous, the way he melts for you- the way the soft smile finds his lips and his hand finds yours, twining your fingers together. “I know, but you have to, baby. You heard the doctor.”

You clench your jaw and avoid the sting of tears behind your eyes. You had heard the doctor, but you weren’t ready. Maybe next month, when you’d had more time to mentally prepare.

Your skin crawled. You hated it, hated this. You hadn’t had a heat in years, avoiding them like the plague. You hated how vulnerable they made you, how they put you at the mercy of another. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Suguru– you did. You trusted him more than anyone, anything, but you still hated the feeling of being so completely helpless, so completely out of control, even if it was Suguru you were submitting to.

For most of your life, you’d successfully hidden your omega status. With the help of suppressants, you’d passed as a beta until your early twenties. Then you met Geto.

You’d met at work. He was cute, beautiful even, you’d thought, but he screamed alpha– and alphas could be dangerous, especially for hiding, unclaimed omegas like you. You’d stayed away as long as you could and, for a while, you were quite successful. You avoided him in the halls, sat at the opposite end of the table in meetings, replied to emails succinctly but politely. All was well until you’d been trapped in an elevator with him one morning, biting your lip anxiously as you waited to reach the twelfth floor. He’d smelled so good that day, perhaps due to an oncoming rut. You hadn’t been able to resist inching closer, taking deeper breaths. Suguru would later tell you that he’d suspected your hidden status, but he had no reason to question you. At least, not until he had you up against the elevator wall with his face buried in your neck. One deep whiff was all he’d needed to know exactly what you were, even with suppressants in your system.

You’d dated for a little over a year, until you’d decided he was the one. Your fingers dust over the mate mark on your throat, the one that had not only made you undoubtedly Suguru’s, but also the one that had revealed to the world exactly what you were. There was no hiding your true identity with an alpha’s scarred mark on your neck.

Suguru had never seen you through a heat– no one had. You’d taken your suppressants daily, ever since you met him and even long before that. He’d claimed you on a day like any other, no heat necessary. He hadn’t had a rut in all these years, either. When he felt one coming on all he had to do was pop a single pill and all was well– apparently with none of the nasty side effects that came along with your suppressants. Another unfair privilege of being an alpha you supposed.

“Sugu, I can’t do this.” Your lip is raw from how much you’ve been chewing on it by the time you reach home.

Suguru softly shuts the door behind you, lifting your twined hands to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles.

“Yes you can. I know you can.”

You shake your head. He doesn’t understand– doesn’t know what this will do to you, how it will break you. While you hadn’t had a heat in years, you had experienced them before. You loathed them more than anything, loathed the way your mind was a slave to your body and not the other way around, loathed the way your whole body pulsed and throbbed, loathed the way it made you feel so… weak. “I can’t. It’s-it’s-” Your hands come up to cover your face. You sigh and feel the blush crawling beneath your cheeks. “It’s embarrassing. Humiliating.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then a soft sight. Suguru pries your hands from your face gently. When you meet his eyes, he’s all business.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, baby.”

You shake your head and pull away, pacing. “I don’t want anyone to see me like that, Sugu. Not even you.”

Strong hands catch your waist, holding you still. “It’s not a question. It’s happening– for the sake of your health.”

You scoff and shake your head. “It’s not–”

His thumb presses to your lips with just enough pressure to demand silence. The omega in you coos to listen, to submit– the other part of you reels with annoyance.

“End of discussion.”

He’s closer now and you can feel waves of his breath skating across your skin. It’s like a drug, one that the primal side of you can never get enough of. Give in, give in, give in, your omega begs. Listen to your alpha… You try not to focus on the fact that he smells good enough to eat. You know what he’s doing– using his dynamic to persuade you, to make you see his way, playing to the omega you can usually hide so carefully.

“Sugu…” you say. You intend to be angry but you trail off when his eyes catch yours.

“I got you, baby.”

Your heart melts at the words. He waits. Maybe he knows that the smell of his skin on yours is playing tricks on your mind. You wage a battle within. Every instinct urges you to agree and with every passing second it becomes harder to disagree. Perhaps he’s right, perhaps it's time you give in for once. Let him take care of you, your omega purrs. You’re nodding before you realize what you’ve done.

Suguru kisses you quickly, allowing no time for takebacks. When he pulls away he gets to work. He whips his phone from his pocket and you listen to him talking to his boss, your boss, saying that you’ll both be out of work for a week on “family” leave. Your face heats when you realize that your boss now knows exactly what you two are going to be doing for the foreseeable future. Suguru kisses you one last time before he’s out the door, off to get enough food and supplies to last a week. You won’t be leaving your apartment for some time. You don't fail to notice that he doesn’t return your phone before he’s gone.

You don’t notice a difference, even after the sun is gone. It’s not surprising, considering you usually take your suppressants at night– it’ll take a little while longer for them to fully exit your system… you hope. When you’re brushing your teeth you stare at the empty prescription bottle longingly.

You join Suguru in bed. The moment you crawl onto the mattress he pulls you closer into his bare chest. You savor the way your bodies fit so perfectly- like he was meant for you and you alone. His front curls around your back, a leg slotted between your thighs.

“Feel anything?” he asks.

You shake your head to hide your swallow. You almost shiver when Suguru buries himself in your neck, inhaling your scent. You feel him harden against your backside. He must be able to smell your approaching heat even before you can. Part of you expects instinct to take hold of him, for him to make a move, but he only presses a kiss to your jaw and holds you tighter.

“Sleep, baby.”

For once, you follow orders without a fight.

–

Hot. Too hot.

When your eyes flutter open, you feel the pounding of your heart, the labor of your breath, and the growing ache between your legs.

You sit up so fast you see stars, panic flooding your veins. No, no, no, no, no. This was wrong, you’d made the wrong choice. You couldn’t do this. Already, you could feel control slipping from your grasp, your consciousness giving way to something more primal, more feral. You scramble, preparing to stand, to find your phone, to lock yourself away and suffer through this on your own.

“Deep breaths, baby.”

Only then do you realize Suguru is already awake. He’s behind you, hands on your shoulders, both a comfort and a restraint.

“Can’t-” Your breaths are ragged and so are your words. “Can’t do this, Sugu-”

“Yes, you can.” He whispers. He pulls you closer, tighter against him. “You will.”

You shake your head frantically, tears pooling on your lashes. When you turn, Suguru is staring at your neck, at the mate mark on your throbbing pulse. His jaw is clenched when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He’s restraining himself, you realize. A glance down reveals he’s already painfully hard in his pants. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there, taking in your scent, waiting for you to wake. No doubt his rut has already been triggered.

His eyes raise to yours and he pauses at the tears that leak down your cheeks. He leans closer, and the scent emanating from his neck makes you groan against your will. His kisses away the tears. Slowly, one at a time.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Your body pulls him closer, even as your mind pushes back. “My phone, Sugu,” you panic. “Gotta gimme my phone. C-call a new doctor.”

He shakes his head and when you start to squirm he only holds you tighter, holds you in place.

“No, baby.”

You whimper, seeking the scent gland on his neck against your will. The smell makes your clit throb almost painfully.

“Sugu, please,” you cry. Tears stream from your eyes, staining your lover’s skin.

“‘S gonna be okay. Just let it happen. Don’t fight it, love.”

With each passing moment, you feel your fight slipping further and further away. Suguru rubs at the muscles in your back until you’re slumped against him, pitifully moaning like a wounded animal. It’s not long before your body takes the reins, until you start desperately humping at his thigh, your clit throbbing almost painfully.

“That’s it. Good girl.”

Your eyes roll back at the praise and when Suguru grips your waist you cry out at the touch. Everywhere his skin meets yours feels electric. You’re burning, burning, burning. It’s not until Suguru lays you down on your back that you see the sopping patch of slick you’ve left on his thigh. You whimper at the sight.

“‘S okay, baby. ‘Ve got you.”

Suguru is looking nearly as lost to the lust as you are. Only his willpower and intent keep him from shredding away your panties and breeding your cunt full that very second. He’s never been in the presence of a scent so intoxicating. He’s never been with you, or any omega, through a heat. He thought you smelled amazing before, but now… He is lost to you, lost to the heat he feels emanating from every inch of your skin, to the honeyed scent pouring from your neck, to the slick he sees staining through your panties. His dick twitches in his pants.

“Love you so much, baby. Gonna take such good care of ya,” he whispers. Instinct drives him forward until he’s plastered his lips to your jaw, licking and biting at the skin. You nearly scream at the sensation. You feel his touch everywhere, all at once. With your last coherent thoughts you know that this heat will be unlike any other you’ve ever experienced. It’s already so intense you can hardly think, and you’ve only just begun.

“Sugu,” you plead.

The sound of his name on your lips breaks him. His hand dips across your stomach, thumbing past the edge of your panties until he’s running his finger through your slit, gathering your slick and rubbing it against your clit.

You scream and thrash, so sensitive it nearly hurts, but he only moves to pin you beneath him, forcing you to take everything he gives.

“Gonna make you feel ‘s good, baby.” he hums. He’s lost to you, to your desires, to your needs. Every piece of him screams to please you, to take care of you, in every way possible.

He continues his messy circles on your clit and until you’re gasping, hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled.

“S-Sugu…” you whine.

The growl that rips from his throat has you arching your back and bearing your throat in an act of submission. You hear a tear and watch your panties hit the floor. Your shirt follows and then you’re completely bare beneath your alpha. His eyes go black at the sight, pupils blown so wide you can hardly see a smidgen of their usual brown. There’s a deep rumble in his chest that has you keening and reaching for him, needing him. He doesn’t waste time. His tongue finds your neck, laving sloppily at your scent gland and the sensation is so delicious that you writhe beneath him.

His fingers slide down your stomach, dipping between your thighs and rubbing at your clit. The touch is somehow gentle despite the complete and total hunger in his eyes, but it has you whining nonetheless. Every place he touches you, which is nearly everywhere, stings so delightfully that your eyes are already rolling back.

But you can’t wait. You can’t. Your body is starved, rabid, and you know what you need.

“Ssssugu… please…” your words are hardly above a whisper, barely a breath, but your alpha still hears you, still knows what you want, what you need.

“I got you, baby… shhhhh…” He gives a final lick to your scent gland before he’s leaning back on his knees, parting your thighs wide, exposing your leaking cunt. You can feel a puddle of slick beneath your ass, your hole clenching desperately around nothing, aching to be filled.

Warm hands slide up your skin and settle on your hips, tugging you a little further down the bed. You whimper, but don’t have time to say anything before you feel him slipping through your folds. A glance down reveals his weeping tip, achingly flushed, bumping and rubbing against your clit. When did his pants come off? You don’t know, you don’t care, all that matters is that the sight steals your breath away.

“Gonna knot you good, princess.”

You nod, wanting nothing more than for him to make good on his promise. You claw and grip at his arms, chanting his name endlessly. His chest rumbles again and your thighs part further on instinct. Finally, he gives you what you want. You feel him pressing in, fat tip stretching you wide. One of his hands moves to press down on your tummy and the combination has tears pooling in your eyes.

He slides in slowly. With every inch you think he must be done, that you can’t take any more. But you can, and you do. When he’s finally fully in your jaw is hanging open in ecstasy and your eyes are rolled back in your skull. His fingers brush your clit and your hips jerk.

“That’s it. So good, baby. So fucking good.”

Your tears flood over, racing down your cheeks. He’s over you again, loose strands of black hair brushing your skin and forcing a whimper from your throat. He licks away your tears, lapping at your cheeks like you’re a fucking lollipop. His hips start thrusting in time with his licks, and it’s more than you can handle. Your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re begging. Pleading, whining, screaming for more. He gives it to you. One hand finds yours, twining your fingers together as he pounds into you so hard he’s rattling your skull. He’s licking at your scent gland again, driving you further and further toward a cliff you’re afraid to fall from. You think this orgasm might shatter you, might break you so thoroughly you’ll never be put back together again. You can feel it tightening at your core with each thrust, each lick, each kiss.

“Fuck,” you hear him growl and whimper at the sound of his voice so close to your ear. “‘M gonna bite you, princess. Gonna mark you up and knot you so good you’ll see fucking stars.” You pant beneath him, unable to word how excited you are by his words, how deliciously they roll across your skin and seep into your spine. “Tell me you didn’t take your pill, baby. Tell me I can breed this pussy full and it won’t go to waste.” He’s not talking about your suppressants you know, but rather the contraceptives you take in tandem with them. Of course you took it, but suddenly something makes you wish you hadn't. “‘M gonna flush ‘em down the fucking toilet. Never letting you take that shit again.”

The primal part of you surges forward at the idea. It chants deep in your mind. Yes, yes, yes…

“Suguuu… please…” It seems like those are the only words your tongue can form.

His lips press to yours, shushing you. “Shhh, baby. Don’ worry. I got you.” He licks across your cheek and down across your jaw until he finds your scent gland again. His thrusts pick up again and you think you might pass out from how good you feel, from how tight your muscles are coiling. You can feel his knot pulsing inside you, preparing to fill you to the brim. You’ve never felt more ready for anything.

“Sugu–”

And it’s at that moment that he makes good on his promise. His teeth sink into your neck and you feel your bond snap taut like a string, pulsing with the closeness of your connection. It’s pure ecstasy. Suguru’s knot swells, notching tightly inside you and when you feel his cum pulsing into your womb it’s all too much. You think you must be screaming from the pleasure but you only hear the ringing in your ears as your orgasm washes over you. Your muscles clench, your toes curl, your back arches, you see those stars Suguru promised. Heat tingles through your limbs and down your spine and you think you’ve probably just melted into the mattress. But you haven’t, and when your vision returns, you’re panting and staring at the ceiling.

Suguru is above you and you can feel him still cumming, still releasing rope after rope of thick, hot cum into you. The sensation makes you groan and he laps at your neck, cleaning up the blood from the new mark he’s just given you. Your consciousness trickles back in, the primal piece of you partially sated for the time being. You remember the context of your situation, why you’re here and not at work, what you’re doing. You’re puzzled by why you’d been so panicked by the idea of a heat before. How could you have been so reluctant, so scared, when nothing has ever felt this right?

Suguru is peppering you with kisses now, pulling you tight to his chest and rolling you both onto your sides where you’ll stay until his knot softens.

“Sleep, princess,” he says and he uses that tone that always compels you to listen, to please. You happily do as he says and when your eyes drift shut it’s not long before you’re lost to a world of comfortable darkness.

You wake to the throbbing again. All of the pent up need Suguru had sated has returned with a vengeance. You need him again, but it appears he already knows that.

You feel him between your legs, his hair fully loose now and tickling the insides of your thighs. He’s eating you out, slurping up the cum that’s leaking down your thighs and spitting it back onto your cunt. It’s filthy, disgusting, and you love it.

“Sugu–” you gasp and your hips buck. His eyes lock with yours and the smile he gives you nearly makes you come on the spot. He holds your gaze as he licks one last long stripe over your folds. You whimper and clench around nothing. Empty, empty, empty…

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers against your skin. He’s kissing his way up your body now, leaving little circles of spit that cool when they touch the air and make you shiver. “‘Y smelled so good…”

You whine and whimper, clawing at his back and leaving scratches you think might draw blood. You’re too worried about getting him inside of you to check.

You’re gasping like you’ve never had a breath of air in your life, like you’ve drowned and every touch he gives you fills your lungs with much-needed oxygen. His hands rub gently at your waist, but it’s not enough. You want him to wreck you, ruin you. You say as much.

“M-more…” you beg and when he hums against your neck you squirm desperately. Warm hands dig into your flesh and suddenly you find yourself flipped onto your stomach. You feel Suguru behind you, pushing your thighs apart with his knees. His hands find your hips again and lift, propping you up with your face still pressed to the pillows. When you whimper he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine.

“‘S okay, baby. Relax. Lemme take care ‘ve you.”

Yes, yes, yes, you think. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you still when he feeds his dick into you, one inch at a time. You cry out, tearing at the sheets and begging for more, even when you already feel like you’re splitting in half. When he’s finally seated inside you he drapes himself over your back, brushing your hair over one shoulder to expose your neck. He leans in to lick you again, thrusting sharply the moment his tongue brushes your skin. You wail, pressing your face to the sheets and attempting to rock yourself back against him. One of his hands smooths over the flesh of your ass as he sets a pace, one that makes you bite down on a pillow to muffle your screams.

“No.” Suguru uses that tone that makes you listen, that one that calls instinctively to the omega inside you, that urges you to please. He reaches for your pillow, tossing it aside and letting his hand curl around your throat as he continues to fuck you, letting his fingers feel the vibrations of every noise you make. “Let me hear you, baby. Always let me hear you.”

You nod, eager to make him happy, eager to do as he says. You don’t dare restrain a single sound, eyes rolling back. The angle he has you at has your thighs trembling. He’s so deep, so close. You feel his heartbeat against your back, feel his tongue on your skin, his hand on your throat, his cock at your cervix.

When he groans, you groan with him, feeling his dick pulse inside you, his knot beginning to swell. You need it, need it so bad you can hardly stand it.

“P-please, please, please–”

He swells inside you, locking your bodies together as his orgasm hits. It’s all you need to find your own. You wail into the mattress, cunt clenching and legs trembling until you collapse, flattening against the beg. Suguru follows you down, wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering in your ear.

“Take it all, baby. Good girl. Take it all…”

You nod, not even sure what you’re agreeing to. All you can feel is his cum flooding your insides, pulsing and pumping so deep into you that you swear your tummy is swelling with the sheer amount of it. Still, your body wants more, clenching and milking him for every last drop, just like he asked.

When you both come down from your orgasms he pulls you into his chest once again, whispering promises of protection and love that lull you into a trance-like state of happiness. When you fall asleep again, he’s chanting a word that your omega repeats right back to him. “Mine, mine, mine.”

When you wake again it’s to the sound of Geto staying true to his word and flushing every last birth control pill you have straight down the toilet. Your omega surges at the idea, but one mewl from you and he’s back in your arms, like you’re somehow the one in charge, not him. With every passing moment, you being to think that might be true- that perhaps a heat does not makes you as weak as you thought. Your alpha submits as much to you as you submit to him.

The week is spent in a frenzy. You do not measure by the numbers on the clock or where the sun is in the sky, rather you know time only as how long it’s been since Suguru’s been locked inside you. If it were up to you, you’d never stop, but Geto forces you to sleep, to eat, to bathe. Of course, he’s never far away when you’re following his instructions and you usually get a kiss and his knot as a reward for being such a good girl.

It’s ten days later when your heat finally starts to wane. It feels as though every inch of you is covered in him. Bites, hickies, kisses, cum… no part of you has been left untouched. Suguru has had you everywhere. The bed, the shower, the bath, the kitchen. Every surface in the whole apartment reeks of sex and slick. He never keeps you too far from the bedroom, though, where you’ve piled up mountains of his shirts and sheets. Anything that smells like him, anything that can keep you tethered in those brief moments when Suguru goes to fetch you food or water or run you a bath. He takes care of you, just like he promised.

When you wake completely clear-headed for the first time in well over a week, it’s to Suguru’s arms and lips. He’s got you all wrapped up in him, his arms locked around your waist almost like he expects you to bolt. You almost do when everything comes flooding back to you, this time with a completely clear conscience. But then he kisses your neck and whispers a delightful little, “welcome back, baby” against your neck and suddenly you’re realizing how… revitalized you feel, like a part of you has finally been properly satisfied after years of waiting. You’d always hated this, always hated the part of you that begged and cowered, hated heats- but maybe with Suguru… they really weren’t all that bad.

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina

link: alpha!gojo fic

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lollixp0p · 3 months

Text

The Video (18+)

Pairing: Best friend!Hwang Hyunjin x afab!reader

Genre: Smut (MDNI), bit of feelings

Word count: just under 3k!

Warnings: Idol!au, subby!Hyunjin, slightly perv!reader, recording, (maybe a bit dub con because he doesn't mean to send it but reader watches it anyway), mommy kink, masturbation (both but separately), Hyunjin fantasizes about reader, reader fantasizes about Hyunjin, lmk if I missed anything!!

Summary: Hyunjin finally gets some alone time after weeks of hard work and decides to use his time to... relax. The next day he ends up sending you something on accident that sets off a big change in your lives, with or without either of you really realising.

Note: My first ever fic!! :3 Inspired by a video I saw on phub. (@cbini (Ems isn't on Tumblr rn she still wanted to be tagged so I hope it's ok), @comet-falls, @hyunsvngs, @mnwrld and @skz-hell lmao hello everyone, writing blog reveal!!😁 here's this fic I've mention to all of you as an anon<3 (depending on who you are I'm either ❄️anon, 🐾anon or sounding anon😳)). To anyone reading this please give me literally any feedback (comment, reblog, anything!), I want to know if this is good or not since it's my first fic🙏😣

Please do not under any circumstance copy, translate, or repost my works!

It's been exactly three weeks since Hyunjin's had any time for just himself, though it feels like months at this point.

Recently everyone's been running around like headless chickens and between vocal trainings, dance practices and the studio, there hasn't been much time to just relax and recharge. Preparing for a new album really is the busiest time of an idols life.

There hasn't even been time to see family or friends, which is common during busy spells like this, but always dissapointing to think about. Now even more so, with how much he's been wishing to spend time with you, one of his closest friends... who also happens to be his crush. Not that he'd ever let you know though, not in a very long time.

It feels almost like a blessing, getting back to the dorms from practice late in the evening and realising... he's got the place all for himself, at least until his roommates get back from the studio.

Changbin had messaged him earlier, telling him that they'd probably be there well past midnight, so there was no use waiting up for them. To him though, this was the very opposite of an issue. With that much free time, he'd definitely be able to... make himself comfortable, so to speak.

See, not having time to relax also means he'd basically had no time to get off. The best he'd been able to do had been quick little sessions barely once a week in the shower right before passing out on his bed from the exhaustion of working hard.

The realisation that he'd be able to do anything he wants during his time alone is enough to get his dick twitching in his jeans and he decides the shower can wait until later.

Hyunjin goes to his room and locks the door after himself even though he's alone, it's just become a habit after so many years living with his members. He sets his bag down next to his bed and thinks through his plan.

Hyunjin has a little secret, which is that he loves recording himself do dirty things that range from more vanilla to much less vanilla. Something about the thrill of being recorded even if no one will ever see it just... makes him so fucking horny.

He opens the camera of his phone, puts it to video mode and presses record. Moving his hand off the lense and setting it down where he normally sets it, on the carefully placed pile of books on his desk, he sits down on his bed.

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", Hyunjin sighs with a pout and brushes his hair out of his eyes. He knows the camera won't see it though because he's made sure the stand, his pile of books, is at a level that cuts off his head perfectly.

Hyunjins hands run down his body slowly and he exhales deeply, just loud enough to get picked up by his phone. Once they reach his jeans he unbuttons them, unzips the zipper, then pulls the jeans down just enough to expose his underwear. Hyunjin pulls his shirt up over his stomach to be held in place under his chin, rubs his hand over his bulge and hums.

It's been so long since the last time he's been able to take his time making himself feel good. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he's getting hard.

He takes his dick out his boxers and then spits on the palm of his right hand. It's dirty and wet but it just turns him on even more. He grabs his dick with the hand and slowly moves his fist up and down, to spread the saliva and precum all over his dick to make the slide easier and wetter but to also get himself to full hardness.

"A-ah, ohh... that's so good... Feels-fuck, feels so good", Hyunjin sighs. It really won't take him too long to cum, he just knows it. He's been pent up for far too long.

He tries to think of something to help his issue and immediately thinks of you, no matter how embarrassed or dirty it makes him feel.

When you first started showing up in the dirtiest corners of his mind he felt so ashamed. Now it doesn't matter to him anymore. You'll never find out so why feel bad?

He continues to move his hand on his dick while thinking of you. The last time the two of you had time to hang out together you'd worn the lowest cut shirt he'd ever seen on you. He had tried so hard to act normal around you but whenever you bent down he'd been able to see into your shirt.

"Haah, fuck..." , he squeezes himself a little harder at the memory. Everytime you moved he could see your bra poking out from the top, black and lacy. The entire time he'd been doing his best to not bust in his pants. Oh, what he'd give to be able to see your tits. They always looked so soft and they'd probably fit perfectly into his palms.

Whenever the both of you would hang out at yours, watching movies and just hanging out, you never bothered to wear a bra. Why would you? It is your house where you want to be as comfortable as possible.

The feeling of laying down on your couch watching a movie with you on top of him, in just a t-shirt, will end up driving him mad one day. Everytime he'd felt your nipples poking into him he'd almost moaned out loud.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!", he lets out pathetically, moving his fist faster. God he just wants you to use him, to do anything you want to him. The thought makes him whine desperately.

One of the most common fantasies for him is you on top of him using him to get off, not caring about if he's close or not. You'd sit on his face and ride it until you cum. He could probably cum untouched like that. All he'd need was tasting you and seeing you cum, just for him.

All the sudden he remembers the phone recording him and he shudders. He imagines what your reaction would be to seeing him like this. Would you be disgusted or delighted? Would you tell him what to do and how to touch himself? Maybe you'd touch him... He hopes you would.

"Mommy... please touch me, aah- oh!", he runs his thumb over the head of his cock just right and his thighs twitch but he keeps them open, in perfect view to the camera.

Throwing his head back he imagines you riding him. You'd be so tight and wet around him. Maybe you'd tie his hands behind his back so he wouldn't be able to touch you... he'd really like that. You'd feel godly around him, Hyunjin thinks.

"Fuck, oh fuck! Mommy I'm-haah, I'm so close, please!", his dick twitches desperately. You're so gorgeous, to him you're the sexiest person he's ever seen. He feels himself getting so close that tears spring to his eyes.

"Ah- 'm gonna... mommy, gonna cum...!", he whines out long and loud. It takes Hyunjin two more strokes to let go and he cums the hardest he's cum in weeks. He doesn't even register whispering your name. Hyunjin leans back on his left hand and keeps stroking himself through it.

The feeling is overwhelming, so much so that his thighs start twitching pathetically and the tears in the corners of his eyes fall. He's getting incredibly overstimulated but he keeps going, wanting to keep enjoying the feeling, just a bit more.

He squeezes himself one last time and suddenly everything on him feels gross and dirty. He's just had the best orgasm in weeks so it's no surprise that he came a lot, everywhere. He even managed to get some on his chin.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone. It takes a while for him to come down from the high, the twitchiness and the feeling of euphoria lingering in his body. Once he's capable of standing up again he stops the video.

With his body feeling like jelly, he takes off all his clothes, drops them into his hamper and prepares to shower, at last.

Hyunjin wakes up to his alarm the next day feeling more refreshed than he's felt in weeks. He shuts off the still ringing alarm and quickly gets up from his bed to get dressed and go eat breakfast.

Checking the calendar on his phone to make sure he knows his schedule for today, he makes a note of one thing; he'd have a lot of time alone at the dorms today too, since he's only got a dance practice and a recording session today, which obviously means 3racha will stay behind to stress about their songs while Hyunjin can return early. Maybe this time he should continue the latest piece of art he's been working on after he gets back?

Hyunjin gets through the day well enough.

After eating breakfast he messages you a "Good morning pretty <3 please remember to drink water!" like every morning when he has time for it. He gets to the practice room only five minutes late, which is a record this early in the morning, because usually he ends up sleeping in at least ten minutes (which makes Chan scold him for being such a heavy sleeper).

He does well at practice, even though he ends up a little exhausted. That's nothing new though, with how hard they always work to be the best they can be.

The rest of the members leave to take a break but Hyunjin decides to stay behind to film the solo choreography he's been working on for fun. Once he's happy with how it's turned out, it's time for him to go record his lines.

The recording session goes smoothly, without hundreds of retakes and everyone's satisfied with the result. Afterwards they decide to order some take-out, as a reward for a job well done... and also because they're all feeling too lazy to even think about going to the dorms to cook.

While eating Hyunjin finally realises to check his phone again. "Good morning, take care of yourself too!! :)" is your response to what he sent earlier. It's nothing more than a kind response but it makes him grin to himself like the fool in love he is.

"Yaaah!! Hyunjinnieee, what's making you smile so beautifully?", Changbin leans towards him with his signature flirting-with-Hyunjin grin, mouth half full of rice.

"It's nothing," Hyunjin responds back to him cheeks red, "and don't talk with your mouth full hyung... Do you not have any respect?"

Changbin decides to drop it in favor of eating more delicious food.

"Oh come on... we wanna know!!", Han pouts at him from his seat on the couch in the room. Hyunjin shoves another mouthful of food in his mouth to avoid the embarrassement of explaining how a single text messaged from you manages to make his heart beat out of his chest.

Once Hyunjin's done eating he's free to go back to the dorms and just like he suspected the rest of his dormmates stay behind to work some more, although they all whine at him to stay to explain the previous mystery. He declines and they all keep their sad puppydog eyes on him until he's out the door.

He keeps texting you during his ride, all the way to the dorms. Once he's in his room Hyunjin decides to just change into some clean clothes. He's too excited to talk to you and get to painting, he can wash up later.

He lays in his bed to keep texting you and at some point your conversation changes from how your day's been going to talking about dancing and he mentions how he just today filmed a new choreography bit he's made for fun.

❣️:

Can I see what you've been working on? :)

I'm sure it's really good, you always are!!

Jinnie:

Well... since you asked so nicely😉

[video sent]

Quickly sending the video Hyunjin exits out the messaging app, feeling so giddy he can't help but squirm around on his bed. He still can't believe someone like you could be interested in seeing him dance.

It might seem like a small thing for most but he feels himself turning red just thinking about the way you look at him while he talks about something so important to him. It makes the butterflies in his stomach every time you're near go crazy. It's so attentive, like you actually care and are interested in his interests... and maybe even...?

'No' , he thinks to himself. There's probably no way you could ever actually be interested in him, not in the same way he's interested in you at least.

He leaves his phone charging and finally gets out of bed to go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He'd need it if he wanted to stay up late to work on his newest art piece.

Hearing the familiar 'ping' notification of receiving a message makes you open your phone again and just like you thought, Hyunjin had sent you the video of his latest masterpiece of a choreography. Not waiting a second you press the video just to see.... Hyunjin take his hand off the camera and set the phone down on the desk in his room he draws on. He sits down on the edge of his bed and says something, you aren't really sure what, because the volume's too low. In confusion you turn it up more.

Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair out his face, probably. You can't see it though, because the camera cuts his face perfectly off frame. Suddenly his hands run down his body to the button on his jeans. He opens it and starts undoing the zipper next. You just look at the video in shock. 'He isn't about to... to take them off is he?', you think to yourself, just as he pulls the jeans down enough to expose his white boxers and then palms his bulge.

Should you stop watching? Keep watching? How long has it even been playing? How long does it keep playing? While you wonder this you almost miss Hyunjin pull his hard dick out of his underwear and spit on his palm and... Oh God...

You've now done something you can never take back. The downright sinful view of his cock is something you don't think you're ever going to be able to forget. How do you even face him after this? After watching him grasp his dick in his hand and pump it a couple of times to spread the spit and precum around.

You exit the video, panting and absolutely soaking through your underwear. Your other hand rushes to your face to feel your cheeks. They're burning and feel like you've been standing out in the sun for hours, when in reality all you've done is accidentally watch your best friend play with himself.

You struggle to decide what to do with the video and in the end save the video without much thinking, then delete the message of it and decide to notify him of his mistake. As long as he doesn't know you saved it, it should be fine, right?

It takes Hyunjin less than 10 minutes to make and get the coffee. He returns to his room humming the tune of a song he's had on repeat recently. Setting the coffee down on the desk and taking his phone off from the charger he notices new messages from you.

❣️:

Uhm...😕

Hyunjin, I don't think you meant to send that.

He looks at his screen confused. What did you mean by that? He...

Oh God.

Did he send the wrong video?

Frantically opening the video he sent earlier he sees himself, in video, move his hand off the phone camera and set it down the desk near his bed and sit down. Oh no...

"Hmm... I hope the angle's good... It's been so long since I've had time for this", video Hyunjin sighs and reaches up to move his hair from his eyes. His head may be out of frame but he clearly remembers pouting while saying this. He watches himself slowly unbutton and unzip his pants, adjusting them so that his boxers are clearly visible in frame. In the video his hand drifts towards his crotch slowly, teasingly.

He quickly exits the video and promptly shoves his head under his pillow and yells. He'd accidentally sent the wrong video while hurrying to get a cup of coffee. How could he have messed up this bad? In his panic, it takes him a moment to respond.

Jinnie:

Oh god

I'm so sorry!!

Please don't watch that!

❣️:

Don't worry!!!

I stopped watching the moment you started unzipping your pants😖

I saw nothing, promise!🙏 It's been deleted already!!

Little does he know though, you'd kept the video. You're not really sure why, but subconciously your brain keeps screaming' to finish it later, of course'.

...

Fuck it, you don't think you can wait until later.

Taking a deep breath, you open your gallery to find the video he sent you. You hesitate for a second but press play anyway. You can feel how you're already soaking through your underwear but pay no mind to it yet.

You watch him do the things you've seen already, all the way until he spits in his hand... and you pause the video. 'Is it right to watch this? I mean, he didn't mean to even send it...', you think to yourself.

But the thought of seeing him touch himself, to hear him make the sweetest noises you could ever in your wildest dreams imagine him making drives you on.

Pressing play again you dip your fingers into your pants. You rub yourself over your underwear and oh my god... you can't believe the wetness you feel after less than a minute of watching the video. You focus on the phone you're holding in your other hand and finally move your fingers into your underwear to directly touch your pussy.

On your screen you see Hyunjin start to stroke himself faster, the head of his dick a dark pink, you can feel his desperation through the screen. Without thinking you move your fingers to your clit and start rubbing it in circles, aided by the wetness of your leaking pussy.

He moans out loud and even though you can't hear it through the fog in your head, you know he's desperate. You move your fingers down to your hole and dip two of them in. You're so wet you barely need to even stretch yourself out and then he does it.

"Hngh... Oh my god, please... m-mommy!"

You push your fingers deeper and your pussy lets out he lewdest squelch which in turn makes you close your eyes desperately in pleasure. 'Mommy? When he masturbates he calls out for mommy??', the thought makes you lose your mind. You think about what it would be like if he called you mommy in the throes of pleasure.

You want to make him follow every command you give him. The way he'd look up at you on his knees with you standing above him. Maybe you could make him suck on a strap? He'd look so ridiculously delicious with his mouth full, drool dripping down his cheeks.

You add another finger and start rubbing at your clit with your thumb at the same time. The feeling makes you whimper and imagine his hands on you, teaching him how to touch you perfectly. You're getting so close and you remember to focus your screen again.

Hyunjin looks absolutely disheveled. His dick is red and throbbing, you can tell he's getting close. His voice is another thing that gives him away. He's whiny and his voice keeps cracking every time he opens his mouth. Hyunjin bucks into his hand and moans.

"... mommy, gonna cum...!", he strokes himself twice more and then finally cums. You're so close it's maddening. All the sudden you hear him... whisper your name?

It makes you go off the edge and your entire body clenches and seizes while you silently cry out from all the pleasure you're feeling. Your walls suck in your fingers with how you're clenching around them. On the screen Hyunjin twitches violently, working himself through the end of his orgasm.

You pull your fingers out of yourself and slump down on your bed exhausted, but the last 20 seconds of the video that's now over haunts you. Did you hear him right?

You gather strength to pick up your phone again and rewind the video to the part where he cums and turn the volume almost all the way up. Admittedly you end up fixating on the way his dick looks and face twists in pleasure when he cums and then he says, or more like whisper your name. Your brain blanks.

"Fuuck... Did you-haah... did you enjoy that?", he chuckles to the phone, sits in place for a bit to properly come down and then gets up to stop the video.

You're wet, confused and you can feel your heart beat out of your chest. What do you do now? How can you ever face him normally after that... Does he feel the same way you do? Is he sure he didn't mean to send it?

It's all too much to think about, so you decide that instead of thinking about it you'll clean yourself up and... crawl into a hole where no one will ever find you. Probably. The only thing you know for sure is you definitely won't be sleeping tonight.

#cupid♡writing #sub!idol #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #dividers by cafekitsune

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pprodsuga · 7 months

Text

i’m serious about you

summary: gojo realizes just how much he likes you when you go on your first date

note: feeling a bit soft for gojo rn so pls enjoy this little scenario…it’s 2am and i just wanna write something before i go to bed <3 gojo is probably a little ooc but this is my blog so!!!

i’m a lil rusty when ur comes to writing fics but i hope u enjoy!

warnings: fluff fluff fluff + she/her pronouns

masterlist :)

“I’m surprised this place is open so late.”

You mutter absentmindedly as you look at the pastries behind the glass, face at a respectable distance while Gojo stands beside you. He leans down to see what you see, his own eye catching the chocolate cake sitting on the top shelf.

“Nanami told me about it a while ago,” he explains. “Says he likes to come here when he can’t sleep since they’re open so late.”

“Do you like this bakery?”

Gojo watches as you pick and choose which pastries you want to try. The girl behind the counter lifts her gaze to him, eyes widening before averting her gaze to the small box in her hands.

“Haven’t tried it, actually,” Gojo says. He rubs the back of his neck when you turn around. “I, uh, wanted to wait. To try it with you, I mean.”

He sees your mouth morph into a shy smile and he can’t help but return it. Gojo turns and orders a beverage from the cashier, watching as her fingers fumble with the buttons before she relays the bill.

You’re about to pull out your wallet when Gojo reacts quicker than you can comprehend. You watch as he gives his credit card to the cashier without batting an eyelash. He laughs when you huff and grumble about being able to pay for the pastries since he paid for dinner, but he bumps his hips with yours and tells you it‘s on him.

You look so perfect under the awful fluorescent lights in your best dress and hair let down. He’s not used to seeing you like this; so carefree without your worries tucked away in that pretty little head of yours.

Gojo used to think he’d make it through life without relying on anyone and that he couldn’t count on other people for his own source of happiness and companionship. But he can’t deny there’s something about you that tugs at his heart strings a bit too aggressively.

This feeling follows him to the morning prior, when he asked you to accompany him to dinner. Gojo had guessed that you liked him more than you let on but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same. This new sensation in the pit of his stomach travels with him tonight, especially when he takes a step back to fully absorb the way you look in his jacket. It dwarfs your shorter stature yet Gojo thinks it was made for you to wear.

The girl behind the counter turns around to finish the order, leaving the two of you to your wits for the time being. Gojo senses that this—casual dating or otherwise—isn’t something you do often. He silently thanks Shoko for drilling him about you (likes, dislikes, who you are as a person aside from the so-called friend group you two belong in) because he sees your finger tapping against the side of your leg and decides to make a move.

“I really like spending time with you,” Gojo starts. “I could do this again and again if you let me.”

“Really?” you ask, sounding something akin to disbelief. Your dress follows your movements as you turn around but all Gojo can focus on is the way your cheeks begin to blush. How cute.

He takes a step forward, nodding. “Believe it or not, I really enjoy spending all of my money on cute girls.”

“Is that so?“ you ask with an uptick in your voice. “Wonder if I’m the cutest, then.”

Gojo knows you’re joking by the way you’re smiling at him, but he wants to set the record straight.

“You are,” he says, “because you’re the only one.”

A soft sound distracts the two of you and he looks past your shoulder to see the cashier has set his beverage on the counter. Gojo thanks her and grabs the cup when he notices notices she’s written her phone number on the back of the surface. His stomach drops when he sees your eyes linger on the penmanship.

He panics.

“I must be special.”

Your voice lacks the humor from moments prior, eyes glazing over the written numbers while Gojo pathetically stands like he’s a frozen statue. He doesn’t know why he cares what you think of him nor why he wants to disprove the theory that he can’t settle down because of an innate need to flirt with everything that breathes. He watches you swallow and avert your gaze to the exit sign when he nods furiously.

“Yeah, you are.”

Gojo throws the beverage in the trash can beside him and cups your jaw in both of his hands to pull you into a tender kiss in the middle of a poorly lit bakery with two other patrons. He thinks your lips taste like coconut and sugar, so soft that he could keep his mouth on you forever and never complain.

He must be doing something right because you’re kissing him back.

You pull away first and he laughs at your flustered state, leaning in to press another quick kiss to your lips before you can escape him. He pays no mind to the girl who walks into the back room.

“I’ll spend however long it takes to make you understand that I’m serious about you,” Gojo promises.

“You better send Nanami a thank you card.” You grab the box of pastries. “Taking me here was a good start.”

Yeah, he thinks. She’s the one.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x oc #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x oc #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru fluff #ahhh it’s been so long since i’ve written fanfics and it’s 2am #very sorry for any poor writing choices #but i hope you liked it!#<3 #my writing

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b1rds3ye · 9 months

Note

Can you make a fic / short headcanon of how the COD men reacts to reader riding those bull mechanical? Their usual bar/pub has installed a new attraction which is that bull mechanical. Either they dared reader or reader wanted to try to ride, depends on the character. You know how those bulls move makes the rider look like they’re grinding?? Yeah I wanna know how the guys reacts to that 👀

OHOHOHOHO GOT IT thank you for sending in the request!! This is the first one this blog has gotten 🥳🥳 I hope you enjoy~

Ride On

The local bar has installed a mechanical bull for an extra activity among the drunk and whimsical. One day off duty, you decide to give it a go and have some fun, and it seems the boys are enjoying it just as much as you.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, König

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except you're shorter than König)

Word Count: 2.5k (~500 each)

Genre: Fluff, Spice, established relationship

Warning: Spicy (but no smut), 18+/MDNI, awkward dialogue (it’s the cutest thing during flirty time fight me)

A/N: I don’t even write stuff that’s mildly spicy so I hope I did a decent job - also apparently mechanical bulls can do some real damage oh my god???

Captain John Price

On duty Price may be your direct superior but off duty you were more than free to do as you please even in his presence, he had always been clear about that. So he knew you were up to something when you sauntered up to him asking him for permission to go on the mechanical bull in the middle of the bar

He could only stare at your deceptively innocent smile for a moment before repeating the mantra that you could do what you want, his free hand automatically reaching into his pocket for a smoke as you strutted to the mechanical bull. You were going to be the death of him

He’s sure this is what emperors felt like in the days of old. Food, drinks, some very enticing entertainment and Price feels like he’s on cloud nine. Sitting by a table, he lounges back, thighs spread as he takes up the entire space of his seat and then some, feeling like a king as he watches you on the mechanical bull. He does not move, save for the occasional shift as his pants tighten

When you’re done riling him up, Price stays put as you approach him again. He can’t hide the incredible smugness he feels when the hungry eyes of strangers trail you, only to look at him in envy when they realise you’re already taken. He isn’t bothered by any of their stares, he can easily give any of them a piece of his mind

“You’ve got guts, love,” Price huffed out a puff of smoke. He remained seated by his table while you stood beside him, his face directly in line with your torso. His gaze travelled along every line and curve of your body that was so tantalisingly close, he could feel the body heat emanating from you. He stifled the urge to lick his drying lips.

“I did a good job though, right?” You beamed. He quirked an eyebrow at your sickeningly sweet voice. So you were going to keep up this charade, as if your face was only flushed from the physical exhaustion of remaining upright on the automaton and not from being so close but so painfully far away from him. Even in the darkness, he could see how your pupils swallowed your irises but he chose not to comment on it - he wasn’t faring any better.

“Passable. You’ve got two choices, sergeant.”

You swallowed, a shiver travelling down your spine as Price tilted his head down, idly extinguishing his cigar against the ashtray.

“Either you go back on the bull for some further training, give everyone here a sight for their sore, miserable eyes…”

Price regards you again, head up so that you could finally see his full face. Like a man lost for days in the desert, he gazed at you as if you were an oasis. Eyes lit up in awe, full of reverence, yet glazed over in carnal hunger.

“Or we leave this pub and you give me a private encore.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley

The instant he saw the new attraction he instinctively groaned under his breath. He already knew that you, Soap and Gaz will be provoking each other for some sort of competition. He’ll interfere if anyone seems uncomfortable but if it’s all smiles and laughs he’ll just quietly watch on with a mirth in his eyes reserved only for you and the task force (he will make a quip about you lot behaving like muppets though)

That being said, he already knows how suggestive a mechanical bull can look. When it’s decided that you’ll give it a go, Simon can only exhale slowly out of his mask, mentally preparing for an unexpected trial of restraint

He slinks back into the darkness of the bar, one with the shadows. His eyes shine like jewels as they reflect the treasure that is you. He drinks in the sight, committing it to memory. If from the bull you manage to see him in the gloom, his gaze is so intense it can single-handedly throw you off the automaton

Even off duty, he’s good at keeping his composure. When you return to him, you almost mistook him for being completely unfazed by your little stunt on the bull. But his voice is a little gruffer, the muscles in his throat straining with every syllable. He shows his neediness through his presence, you won’t be alone for the rest of the night as he accompanies you for even the smallest of errands

Rubbing your shoulder that was bruised from falling off of the bull, you beelined for the rest of the task force, only to get unexpectedly pulled towards the corners of the bar where the lights could not reach.

“Simon?” Your voice is barely above a whisper as you feel his hand splayed across your spine. He was never big on public displays of affection, he was possessive in that all of his love will be seen by you only. Daring a move like this has you turning to him in concern, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable in the slightest.

“We’ve got a problem.”

“And that is?”

Simon doesn’t reply, not verbally. He takes your hips in his hands, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle but his fingertips dig ever so slightly into your skin. Guiding you back to stand just in front of him, you grunted as you felt a hefty weight against your backside. Now that is a big problem indeed.

“Need you,” he rasps, voice so thick with air they were barely discernible words. You allowed him to pull you further against him, a guttural groan escaping him. “Fuck, didn’t know you could ride like that.”

“I’m a soldier of many talents,” you replied. He huffs against his face mask, digging his face into the crook of your neck. “I suppose I could go again. Just, not on the bull.”

Simon’s lips curved into a smile that warped the mask against your skin. His hands on your hips tighten, you won’t be escaping him anytime soon.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

When Johnny’s eyes settled on the mechanical bull, he then took a brief glance at you and his mind went places. This absolute menace is conjuring up a million and one ways to get you on that bull ASAP (with your wholehearted consent, of course)

He’ll do anything, making a dare, teasing you, trying to make a bet, just so he can see you mount that thing. He’s a dedicated man, once he has a goal he’s seeing it through, no matter how many playful slaps and lighthearted glares you give him. He’ll even set an example and go first - he’ll be flattered as hell if he can get you out of all people riled up

Johnny thinks he can handle it, but he’s always overestimating himself when it comes to you. He can’t play off how you’re bothering him as your hips slide forward and back against the saddle. He can only clear his throat uncomfortably and choke out a fake laugh when the rest of the 141 comment on how quiet he’s become

He bit off more than he can chew, he thought he was the smooth one for being blessed with such a sight but he’s finding himself more bewitched by you by the second. When you get off the bull he gives you a feeble punch on the shoulder, trying to act like he’s alright but really he’s completely at your mercy, hovering around you near begging you to give him attention

You didn’t even have time to greet him as Johnny pulled you away from the rest of the task force, down into a quiet corridor of the pub. His silence was unnerving, you asked him if something was wrong but his only response was his lips against yours. When you reciprocated, the Johnny you knew was back with you, smiling into the kiss with an exhale of eagerness into your mouth as he traps you against the wall with his body. His weight against you, it was already hard to get a breath in as he claimed your lips again and again and again. But what truly made you gasp was the hardness that brushed against your thigh. It was initially so brief, you could credit it as a phantom of your own lust, but as Johnny got bolder, it rested permanently against your upper leg.

Now that he made his predicament clear, he reluctantly pulled away from you, just enough for him to speak. His heaving breaths burned against your skin, no more than his azure eyes that bored into yours.

“I got another thing you can ride, aye?”

You burst into laughter as you gave him a playful shove on the chest. It did nothing push him off of you, his smile widening at your countenance.

“Johnny, that was awful.”

“I ain’t lyin’. My li'l MacTavish needs some help.”

“I swear to god I’m leaving you.”

“You know you love me. Now are you gonna help me or no?”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle has a playful streak, when he sees you eyeing the new attraction he’ll approach you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slides some cash to you. “This twenty says you won’t last five seconds on that.”

And with that, a light-hearted competition started. Kyle’s intentions were genuinely innocent, he just wanted to have some fun beyond drinking the night away. After you gave the bull a go he was wholly planning to try after you to show you how it’s done - and possibly impress you with superior balancing powers

It started off fun as you laughed at the odd movements of the bull under you and Kyle smiled with you. He’s willing to give up that twenty as you were clearly having fun

What he did not expect was how as the mechanical bull became more erratic, bucking indiscriminately in all directions that the sight seemed more… suggestive. A yelp of surprise from you has him situating himself behind a table, ensuring no one can see the growing issue below his hips

He dares a look at the rest of the task force who are taking in the sight innocently. Soap is shouting encouragements like a battle cry, Price pulls a face that’s a mix of amused and impressed, Ghost offers a single dip of the head in respect and now Kyle feels dirty, guilt mixing with arousal into a sinful concoction that drips down his tightening pants

As you returned back to the task force, Kyle immediately came up behind you. His arms wrapped around your waist, he sat his head on your shoulder, cheek against yours. With his entire body smothering yours, his whole being moved with every inhale and exhale of yours as you tried to recollect yourself after that exhausting ordeal of the mechanical bull.

“Getting touchy’s not going to make me forget about that twenty, Kyle,” you chided with a smile. You hear a little hmph as one of his hands dip into your pocket, resting over your hip bone. He slips the note in but his hand stays there, his thumb tracing over the wrinkles in your pants.

“You looked real nice up there, you know,” he mumbled into your ear before giving it a peck, arms tightening around you possessively.

“Feels like you enjoyed it,” you whispered, voice disappearing as you noticed something firm pressing against your ass. Your laugh came out far too weak. “Is that a pistol or are you happy to see me?”

He chuckled, husky and restrained, too distracted to reply. His hand in your pocket was becoming more animated, rubbing at your skin. Even through the fabric, you can feel how hot he is, only getting warmer as he gets more antsy, his free hand now tugging and teasing at your shirt.

Kyle spares a look at the rest of the task force, clearly distracted with their own drinking and antics.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?”

“... No, let’s go.”

König

König will never ask you to go on the mechanical bull because he’d never go on it himself. Putting on a show for a whole lot of strangers in a pub? Potentially embarrassing himself in front of said strangers, his allies and you? The thought already fills him with dread and he is empathetic to never ask for such a thing from you. That being said, when it’s established you’re more than happy to give the bull a go, he’s not going to stop you

He knew how suggestive a mechanical bull can look but he figured he could handle it; he did not reach the rank of colonel by giving in to every temptation. But he should have known better when it came to you, your mere existence making him feel like he lost all composure and combat experience

Upon noticing the lustful stares of others, König doubles as a bodyguard. He slowly stalks around the bar, using his hulking figure to strategically block the view of you for others. He also takes note of anyone who seems a little too fixated on you, not hesitating to send a glare their way

Once you lose to the bull, he waits by the edge of the ring, taking your hand to escort you back to your friends. He does it both to be a caring partner for you, but also he’s preening as onlookers visibly deflate upon realising that if they want to get to you, they have to go through him

König’s hand was tight around yours, you could feel it occasionally twitch, aware of his own strength and trying to loosen his hold on you.

“Entschuldigung, mein Schatz,” he grumbled. “You wanted the night here, but I must leave.”

“Why?”

König turned his head away in embarrassment, but you noticed his eyes dipped lower for a split second. When you followed his gaze, you took a moment to pride yourself for getting your partner so riled up. It was only broken when he gently took your chin with his free hand, tilting it up - or just anywhere away from his growing predicament.

“It is embarrassing,” he muttered. “You were just having fun, but I am here… needing.”

“Not at all,” you smirked. “I wanted you to notice me.”

“I am always watching you, Schatz,” König whispered. He was getting bolder - or perhaps more desperate - with every word, the hand on your chin moving down to settle on one of your hips. You tilted your hips into his grip and the consequent breath he emitted was forceful and ragged. “I did not think such a machine could be so… crude.”

“But you liked the sight, right?” Your voice was smug as you pulled his face down to be in line with yours. You now had a perfect view of his eyes that were alight with lust, pupils blown so wide you could not distinguish if it was the gaze of a predator or prey.

“Zu viel.”

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #könig x reader #könig x you #/*avery actually writes*/#/*avery checks the mailbox*/

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rafeandonlyrafe · 5 months

Text

defending you (nsfw version)

i somehow forgot this fic when i was reuploading all the ones from my old blog. fun fact: this is the first rafe fic i ever wrote! and i actually wrote two different versions. this is the established relationship and smut version, here is the sfw version!

words: 3.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, bullying?, violence, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cockwarming, daddy kink, fingering, female receiving oral,

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

“rafe!” you yell, relieved to see him standing out on his dock, sorting through something in a box. you swim closer, the final stretch of the long distance somehow seeming like miles.

“rafe!” you yell again, waiting for him to hear, but you know the sound of the whipping wind is carrying your voice in the opposite direction.

rafe straightens up, and turns back towards tanneyhill. “rafe!” you’re yelling desperately at this point. he finally turns, having heard what he thought was his name. he scans the dock quickly, thinking he’s going crazy hearing things, and then he sees you wave at him frantically from in the water.

“y/n?” rafe screams, his face going pale seeing you swimming towards the dock.

“rafe.” you smile, received to finally be done with your long swim.

“what are you doing?” rafe rushes towards the ladder as you begin to climb up, legs and arms weak. “the water is freezing and there’s a storm coming in.”

“i know.” you shiver as you pull yourself onto the dock, with help from rafe. you can’t even stand as your legs crumble. “i was paddleboarding before the storm came and someone came and knocked me off my board and took it and my paddle. i swam here because it was closest.”

you’ve never formally labeled your relationship with rafe, not beyond him calling you ‘my girl’, but everyone on the island knows you’re an item.

it all started with your friendship with sarah. you’re not rich enough to be a kook, but not poor enough to be a pogue, leaving you in a weird middle ground that you’ve grown to love, getting accepted into both groups' parties. you became friends with sarah pretty quickly when you both agreed that the silly feud between the two sides of the island has gotten too extreme.

whenever you would sleep over with sarah, or even just head out to surf or get ice cream, rafe would find some sort of way to be involved, much to sarah’s annoyance and your joy.

it wasn’t until you and sarah began to grow apart that rafe made his move. he kissed you one night at a party and ever since then, it’s been the two of you against the world. you still get along with sarah, but it’s different now that you’re with her brother.

“who took your board?” rafe eyes flash with anger, the kind all the pogues tell you he’s capable of, but that you haven’t seen for yourself. you know rafe hides his bad parts from you, but you’ve heard whisperings from people about the best place to score on the island, and that his rage can get out of control.

“kelce’s friend. i don’t know his name. that blonde guy.”

“topper?” rafe questions, knowing it can’t be him, but can’t think of any other guy you might be referring to.

“no, no. that new guy. family just moved into that blue house.”

“luke?” rafe practically spits his name out.

“yeah, him.” you nod, a shiver racking through your body. the water was the coldest you’ve ever felt it in obx, but thankfully your hard swimming kept you from being too cold. it’s only now, on the dock with the harsh wind, that you feel the real chill.

“hold on, let me get you a towel.” rafe curses himself for not getting you one quicker. he runs to the nearest boat, flipping open a seat and grabbing the fluffiest, warmest towel he sees.

rafe helps you stand now that you’ve got some feeling back in your legs. he wraps the towel tightly around you, pulling you into his arms to warm you up even more.

“what kind of boat was he driving?” rafe asks

you don’t want to talk, or think, just want to lay your head against rafe’s chest and soak up his warmth, but you’re eventually able to mutter out, “a black speedboat. i don’t know more than that, it all happened so fast.” truth was, you knew it was an expensive brand, just way beyond anything your family would be able to afford, so you had no clue what it was.

“and he just came and knocked you off?” rafe curses himself as soon as he says it, because it sounds like he doesn’t believe you, but really he just wants to get the story straight before he beats this guy to a pulp.

“yeah.” you sniffle. “he made a huge wake on purpose that made me fall off, and then he just grabbed my board and paddle before i could get back on.”

“y/n?” you hear your name being called and turn to look down the dock at ward and rose, concern etched over their features. you got along decent well with them, being invited to some family dinners with rafe, but there was still a bit of awkwardness, you being the first longterm girlfriend that rafe has ever had.

“hi, sir.” you say as he walks closer, stepping out of rafe’s arms.

“don’t tell me you were swimming in this weather.” ward says. it is unseasonably cold in the outer banks, and the wind is picking up every second with dark clouds on the horizon.

“not intentionally.” you shake your head. "someone knocked me off my paddleboard and they took it. i swam here because it was closest."

ward looks at his son, and rafe gives a stern nod, a silent conversation happening that you’re not privy to.

“i’m gonna go get your board back for you, y/n.” rafe says, effortlessly snatching the boat keys out of the air that his father tosses to him.

“rafe, i don’t expect you to do that. plus the storm-” your worried expression is snatched off of your face with a quick kiss from rafe.

“we look out for own here, yeah?” rafe says, hand coming to your face and pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“thank you.” you say with a tight swallow of your throat, worried about rafe in this weather, but knowing that there’s no stopping him.

“i’ll be back soon, you go inside and warm up, okay?” rafe says, stepping back towards the boat. you nod, a tight feeling twisting in your stomach as you watch rafe going to defend you, going to get back what’s yours. he especially knows what that paddleboard means to you, having bought it for you himself. you had one from your parents, but it was a few years old and worn from how much you use it.

“come on, y/n.” rose says, placing a hand on your back as you walk up the dock to the house.

“thank you so much.” you say as you reach the kitchen, rose handing you a glass of water.

“no problem at all, you know you’re always welcome here.” ward says, and you almost blush at the approval of rafe’s father. you’ve always tried hard to get on his good side, being almost overly polite and helping out whenever needed, but what really won rose and ward over was rose going to your mothers hair salon. it’s the best on the island and your mom gives her extra product since you’re with her stepson.

“are you okay? can i get you anything else?” rose asks you.

“no, thank you so much. i might just go hop in the shower and wait for rafe to come back in his room, if you don’t mind?” you give the best pleading puppy dog eyes you can to ward, and he nods after only a second of hesitation. he doesn’t like you being in rafes room, and usually makes you hang out in common areas, which lead to a lot of interrupted cuddling or makeout sessions.

it’s not like ward is completely unaware what you two get up to, he even one time bought rafe a pack of condoms and attempted to have a safe sex conversation with him, much to rafe’s dismay, which he later recanted to you, before pouting that you were giggling at him, but made up for it by putting one of those condoms to good use.

“thank you again for helping me, i was so scared out there all alone.”

“go before i change my mind.” ward says. you give a flash of a smile before speed walking towards rafe’s room, a path you know by heart. you undress in his attached bathroom, leaving your wet clothes on the floor.

you take a deep sigh of relief at the warm water, but you don’t want to spend too long in there, anxiously awaiting rafes arrival back. you use his soap, the one that leaves a scent on his skin that you’re obsessed with, but forgo trying to control your hair, opting to put it up in a bun with the hair ties he leaves in his bathroom cabinet for you.

you end up grabbing clothes from rafes closet, even though you know sarah won’t mind if you borrow some of hers, putting on one of the few casual tshirts rafe has, as well as his boxers in favor of actual bottoms.

you’ve warmed up a lot, but there’s still a chill in your bones, so you slide under the covers, flipping on the tv, missing your phone at this moment which is sitting at home, waiting for you to return from your paddleboarding trip.

you’re about to drift off when the door suddenly opens.

“rafe.” you breath out, hopping out of the bed to go to him. he’s soaking wet from the rain that came in with the storm, but he’s got a proud gleam in his eye.

“i got your board back.” rafe says. “and that asshole won’t mess with you anymore.”

you gulp, hoping that just means rafe gave him a stern talking to, but as you look down at his knuckles, you can tell it’s not true.

“rafe!” you gasp, grabbing his hand and lifting it up. his knuckles are red and looked bruised.

“it’s alright, baby.” rafe says, stepping into the room and closing and locking the door behind him. “i just punched him once so he would know not to mess with you again. i know you don’t like violence, but he needed to learn his lesson not to mess with you.”

you pout, but nod in agreement. you certainly wouldn’t want any other girls, or anyone at all for that matter, to fall victim to the same ‘prank’ he did to you.

“thank you so much.” you place your hands on rafes neck and bring his head down so you can kiss him, having to get up on your tippy toes to do so.

“anything for you baby, you know how much i love you.” but you don’t, and you freeze at the words.

“what, you don’t love me back?” rafe teases, acting like he didn’t just drop something so huge for the first time in your relationship.

“of course i love you, rafey, i just didn’t expect you to say it.” you blush, ducking your head. you’ve actually thought over the past couple months about your time with rafe, how safe and loved he made you feel. it came naturally to you, loving him.

rafe ducks down for a strong kiss, leaving you breathless when he pulls away and strides towards the bathroom. “gonna shower quickly princess, you get back in bed.”

“okay.” you say shyly, suddenly nervous. you get back under the covers, thankful for the thick comforter wrapping you in warmth. your eyes return to the tv, and you don’t even realize that you’ve started to drift off until you’re suddenly awoken by the bathroom door opening and shutting and rafe stepping out in just a towel wrapped around his waist.

“oh, i’m sorry baby, i didn’t mean to wake you.” rafe says, seeing the sleep in your eyes and how desperately you need it.

“it’s okay.” you sit up, only for rafe to gently push your shoulder back into bed. he climbs in next to you, leaving the towel around his waist much to your disappointment.

“but i have to thank you for getting my board back.” you pout as rafe wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest.

“you can thank me once you’ve rested.” rafe says, stretching to turn the lamp next to the bed off. he also turns down the tv, but leaves it on.

“mmkay.” you really don’t have it within you to argue. you lay your head against rafe’s chest and snuggle close, a shiver wracking through your body.

“are you still cold?” rafe’s body tenses under you.

“i think the effects are still wearing off, im okay though, promise.” you really don’t want rafe to leave to go punch luke again, so calming him down is your best bet.

“i got something that can warm you up, princess.” rafe says, hands suddenly finding your hips. his fingers skim underneath his boxers that you’re wearing, and you can’t help but let out a soft moan, knowing there’s no way ward or rose can hear you from the opposite wing of the house, and with the rain now battering against the windows.

“off, please.” rafe says, tugging them down. you help maneuver until you’re left in just his shirt.

rafe tugs you so you’re half on top of him, one leg slinged over his hips. his hands find your pussy instantly, pleased that your wetness is already growing.

“my pretty girl needs daddy, right?” rafe says, using the nickname for himself that has you biting your lip, feeling your nipples harden against his chest.

rafe laughs gently, fingers sweeping up and down the outsides of your folds, not moving closer like you want him to. he only teases for a minute before he presses his finger against your hole. you instantly relax at the familiar feeling, letting him shove his long and slender finger inside of you.

you’re able to get just enough angle to grind your clit into the towel, making his finger thrust in and out even easier. you let out a mewl as a second one presses against your entrance.

“you can take it, baby.” rafe says, causing you to shake your head. usually rafe gives you a lot of time to warm up before he even tries to finger or fuck you, knowing how much it helps you loosen up.

“you can.” rafe says, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “you wanna know how i know you can? because you’re my good little girl, and you’d never disappoint me. so you’re gonna take both my fingers, and then you’re gonna take my cock, alright?”

you stay silent as his second finger enters you, it only burns for a split second before the pleasure returns.

“answer me.” rafe says softly, knowing better than to be too rough with you considering what you just went through.

“gonna take your cock.” you nod. “gonna be good for you.” you lift your head off of his chest to kiss along his jaw, nipping at it with a giggle when he clenches it as you grind your hips just right to press against his cock, already completely hard under the towel.

rafe drags his fingers out, somewhat reluctantly as he already misses feeling you clenching around him, but is brought relief knowing his cock will be next. he pulls the towel to the side, letting himself spring free and rub against your bare pussy.

“do you trust me?” rafe whispers, not making any move to reach for a condom.

“of course.” you say, kissing the side of his mouth, “i love you.”

rafe slides his fingers up to your clit, rubbing it gently as he presses his cock against your entrance. you sink down onto him, eyes squeezing tightly closed as the pleasure takes over.

“good girl. almost all the way in.” rafe says, helping push your hips down until you’re fully rested on his cock. you lay your head back down on his chest, letting yourself breathe as you wait for rafe to begin to snap his hips up into you, or for his hands to tap your hips, signaling you to move.

it doesn’t come, and eventually you begin to rock, wondering if rafe was letting you take control.

“no, no, shhh.” rafe says, holding your hips down. “let me just warm you up from the inside baby, you go back to sleep. when you wake up i’ll put a condom on and fuck you like you deserve.”

you realize as he speaks that you are now completely warmed up, his cock bringing you to the perfect temperature.

“you sure, baby?” you ask, hoping he says yes, loving the thought of sleeping together, joined in the most intimate way.

“of course i’m sure. you keep my cock nice and warm in that sweet pussy and i’ll keep you warm in my arms.”

“thank you.” you turn your head to kiss his chest. “i love you so much.”

“love you too. now close those beautiful eyes and get some rest. i know you’re tired.”

rafe is right, as soon as you stop fighting the sleep, you’re out like a light.

you’re not sure how long you sleep before a loud clap of thunder wakes you up. you lift your head, the only light in the room being from the tv, still on, now muted.

you circle your hips, smiling at feeling rafe’s cock still deep inside you. “mmm, that feels good baby.” rafe says, also waking up from the storm.

“can you fuck me now?” you ask, almost politely. it makes rafe smile, thinking about what a good girl you are.

“i thought you said you wanted to thank me? don’t you wanna ride me?”

you nod quickly, glad to have a chance to be in charge. usually rafe is the one on top, not liking to be out of control, so you start moving before he has a chance to rethink.

you sit up, his cock hitting a whole different angle as your position changes.

“wait.” rafe places a hand on your hip. “let me put a condom on first.”

“it’s okay.” you say quietly, not sure if rafe feels the same way. “i’m on birth control and i’ll take a plan b tomorrow. you’re doing such a good job warming me up i want your cum warming my insides up too.”

this sends rafe into a spiral, the thoughts of flooding your insides, of marking you as his. even though he knows its too early, he thinks about the future where he gets to cum inside you with no birth control or plan b taken the next morning, seeing your tummy swell up, marking you as his.

his plants his feet on the bed and begins to fuck up into you, his hands lifting you up and down in pace with his thrusts. you place your hands on his chest to try to keep yourself stable, not regretting your words even though it now means you don’t get the control you were secretly excited for.

“you want me to fill you, huh, my perfect slut?” rafe asks, rubbing one hand aggressively over your clit.

“yes, rafe.” you whine, grinding into his thumb. his cock is throbbing inside you, and you know neither of you are going to last much longer, considering he’s been inside you for at least a couple hours.

rafe flips you suddenly, not wanting his little princess to have to do any more work than you need to.

“so good rafey.” you whine, his cock hitting your sweet spot every time, making you see stars.

your head picks up suddenly when his dick leaves you, making tears instantly fall from your eyes at the loss.

“it’s okay, baby, don’t cry.” rafe kisses the tears away quickly, before pressing one to your lips. “i just need to taste your pretty pussy before i cum all inside it.”

rafe slinks down the bed, and you watch him with wide eyes. rafe will give you head sometimes, but he much prefers getting right into the action and fucking you, feeling no better joy than when you’re joined together.

rafe lays between your legs, adjusting his erection so he doesn’t cum on the bed from pressing against it. you spread your legs for him, giving him a shy smile as his eyes find yours.

“keep them open. look at me. watch the man who loves you kiss your pretty little pussy.” rafe’s words make you want to flutter your eyes close, to toss your head back, but you fight that instinct to keep looking at him.

rafe leans forward, licking from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit. you moan as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking it harshly, wanting to get you as close as possible to cumming, because he knows once he’s inside of you again, he’s only lasting a couple thrusts.

he switches between tonguing at your clit and sucking on it, trying his best to keep you on your toes, not knowing what sensation to prepare for. he swipes his tongue down ever few moments, tasting your wetness like golden honey on his tongue.

“taste so sweet, princess.” rafe says, making an embarrassing slurping noise that has you momentarily covering your face with your hands, before remembering rafe’s order to keep your eyes on him. “gotta eat you out more often, my favorite little meal.”

your hands move to rafes hair, dragging him back up to your clit. rafe flattens his tongue against it, letting your hips move and grind just how you like it against his tongue.

“fuck baby.” rafe has to rip his head away as he feels your clit start to throb, signaling how close you are.

“need you rafey.” you whine. he moves quickly to your pleads, his cock reentering you quickly, hips thrusting wildly. he places the palm of his hand against your clit, grinding it down.

“fuck, baby, so good.” you whine. “so close rafey.”

“me too, princess.” rafe says with a grunt, his voice gruffer than you’ve ever heard it. “gonna fill this pretty pussy up. my favorite little kitty. gonna breed you. you want my kids one day, huh?”

“yes, rafe, want your babies.” you cry out as you can’t hold back any longer, your orgasm washing over you like the waves outside hitting the shore. the tightening of your pussy around his cock has rafe cumming instantly, spurting thick ropes of white inside of you.

he collapses down as the last few drops of cum are squeezed out of him by your pulsating pussy.

neither of you say anything for a few minutes, rafe just rolls you over so you’re on top of him, his cock still deep inside you, plugging you from letting any cum drip out.

rafe begins to slowly pull out, but your hips follow him. “please stay inside me until morning.” you pout.

“you want me in you all night?” rafe says, pushing some of your hair off your face that’s sticking to your sweat.

you nod, tiredly blinking at him as sleep begins to overtake your body again. rafe smiles gently. “of course i’ll stay inside you.”

“thank you.” you whisper, kissing along his cheek, until you reach his mouth. your lips slide against each other, and you resist the urge to squeeze your pussy around him for a round 2, knowing how tired he must be from the sudden burst of energy.

you’ve never slept calmer than you have with rafe filling the missing pieces inside of you.

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 2 months

Text

Little Love Notes | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Summary: Chan's girlfriend likes to leave him little notes.

Warnings: It just fluffy. I have written a little drabble similar to this but wanted to switch it around so it's reader leaving him little love notes. This is a repost from my now deactivated blog. More of an explanation in my pinned post.

Word Count: 482

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Chan's heart swelled with warmth as he read the little note once again. The words are written on a bright yellow post-it note which was stuck to his laptop lid. It was a simple sentence, but it meant so much to him.

"Have a great day, my love. Don’t be too hard on yourself."

The last couple day’s he’d been a little hard on himself because he couldn’t get a part of the latest song they’ve been working on right. No matter how he mixed it, with and without Changbin and Jisung’s help, he couldn’t seem to get it sounding like he envisioned in his mind.

Taking a moment before he goes back to the song that’s becoming a headache, he remembers back to when Y/N left him the first note she ever left him. They had just moved in together when he found a post-it note stuck to the screen of his phone, with ‘I love you’ written on it. From that day on, Y/N made it her mission to leave him little love notes around their apartment. Some days they just said I love you and other days they’d be a small paragraph reminding him how loved he is, or how lucky she is to have him. Sometimes they would be sweet little reminders for him to take breaks, or to go easy on the guys and stuff like that. When he went away, whether it be in South Korea or overseas, the little notes would continue. He’d find them on in his bag, in the pocket of a random hoodie or pair of pants, and on his electronics. He even found one wrapped around his toothbrush, one time.

The guys often tease him about the notes, but he doesn't care. He loves these notes more than anything because they are a physical representation of her love for him. It’s his and Y/N’s little thing they have that doesn’t involve anyone else. He loves it and would be sad if she ever stopped writing them.

As he opens his laptop, he chuckles to himself when he finds another note in his girlfriend's handwriting. ‘Can we please have McDonald’s for dinner?’

He puts the notes somewhere safe so he can add them to the growing collection, filling his desk drawer at him. Grabbing his phone, he pulls up his messages with Y/N, and types out his reply to her notes.

‘You have a good day too. I’ll pick up McDonald’s on my way home tonight. I love you so much x.’

He puts his phone to the side and boots up his laptop to get started working on the newest 3racha song.

It doesn’t take long before his phone buzzes, notifying him that he has a new message. When he checks it, he smiles, seeing it’s from Y/N.

‘I’ll message you my order later. I love you so much too, baby xxxxx.’

Likes, Comments & Reblogs are welcomed and appreciated.

©️ 2024 CRAZYFORMFICS. NO ONE HAS PERMISSION TO COPY, TRANSLATE AND/OR POST MY FICS ON HERE OR ANY OTHER SITE.

TAGGED: @staytiny2000 - @dancelikebutterflywings - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea - @rainydayteacups

#bang chan #stray kids #skz #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan x y/n #stray kids x y/n #skz x y/n #stray kids imagines #bang chan imagines #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #bang christopher chan

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rboooks · 11 months

Text

DC x DP Fic idea: The Royal Consort

Wesley Weston runs a blog after getting over his desire to expose Danny's secret- primarily due to no one believing him- and no one pays attention to it since almost all of Casper high school has one too.

The difference between the hundreds of other blogs is that one of his pictures of Phantom is clear. A perfectly uncorrected image of the famous ghost, whereas nearly all other pictures are blurry due to ghosts disrupting cameras. Even Wes isn't sure how he managed to capture him so well.

Another difference between his blog and others is that one of his followers happens to be John Constantine, who followed the kid a long time ago due to the fanfiction of the Bats and found them hilarious.

John opens his phone app, expecting a new chapter to the Bruce Wayne/Superman fic, and spits out his tea upon seeing the High King of the Dead casually in the human world. Horrified that the King has not been appropriately welcomed- which could lead to a war that the humans would never win- he calls an emergency Justice League and Justice League Dark meeting.

It didn't help that they had allowed a county to pass the anti-ecto laws, which ruined any attempt to appease the Ghost King once the news broke to the public. The League still worried about a declaration of war even after they demolished the laws and the United Nations had the States apologize on humans' behalf.

They quickly discover High King Phantom has been visiting Earth for almost three years. Before his coronation, Phantom had not been outside the Infinite Realms very often though he has appeared throughout history. Cave drawings date back thousands of years before the first ancient Egyptians, but he's visits are few and short.

Life would naturally send him back to the Realms because he had too much power and ectoplasm. After taking the throne, his powers only grew, which meant someone had to summon him as the only way for him to stay on Earth longer than an hour.

Now as King, he appeared only within the small town of Amity Park daily. Why?

John sighs. "He has an anchor. Someone is tying him to this plane. Like the helmet for Nabu, which allows Doctor Fate to exist here without being launched back to the Infinite Releams, Phantom has bonded himself. And I know who that is"

He pulls up a class photo on Weston's blog and points to a boy wearing a particular necklace.

"Danny Fenton is wearing the official Royal Consort of the Infinite Realms symbol and has been since he was fourteen. Phantom's husband may be our only hope to salvage the terrible mess the USA's bloody GIW placed the rest of us in."

Danny loved the necklace he found in Pariah Dark's old haunt. He inherited Pariah's haunt and everything inside once he was crowned and hasn't taken it off since. He didn't think it would be an issue. It's not like it would out his secret to his parents or anyone else since it was in Ghost Speech. Even he didn't know what it said.

Then one morning he comes down for breakfast only to have the most important members of the Justice League sitting in his living room waiting to greet him.

Desperate to keep his halfa status a secret, Danny must convince the entire world watching him, that he's just a human who scandalously eloped at age fourteen with one of the strongest beings in the mulitverse.

Jack's horrified "We were shooting my son-in-law this whole time" became a meme that has trended for months.

( Part 2 )

#dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #Danny is girlboss gaslight his way through this #his parents knew he was bi but married!?#The Royal Consort

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sundrop-writes · 2 months

Text

Officially announcing my new series: Careful.

A limited multi-chapter series with Spencer Reid and Fem Reader, featuring angst, smut, and the trope of exes to lovers where Spencer finds out that he is a father four years after you have given birth to his child.

'When you and Spencer broke up, he tried to forget about you. He pushed all of those feelings for you down - until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being hunted by a man who kills single mothers.'

The series will be approximately 40k long in total (spread across six chapters) and will be posted every Friday, starting on March 8th, 2024, and continuing until ending on April 12th, 2024.

THE FIRST CHAPTER IS NOW POSTED!!!

(I am making a posting schedule, and I am gonna try really, really hard to stick to it this time guys.)

The series is already finished in my drafts - it just needs to be edited before posting. However, comments and encouragement are highly appreciated and welcomed throughout this process. The fic will not have a taglist (taglists are not something I do) - if you enjoy the concept or the preview below and you want to know when future chapters are coming out, then you will simply have to follow me here and turn on notifications for this blog, or you can find me on AO3 and subscribe to me there to get emails when this series and it's future chapters are posted.

Below is a short preview of the fic - so if you want to get a better sense of what the fic is about, click through and read it, and hopefully, you will enjoy.

Preview Word Count: 1,800

Warnings: typical Criminal Minds episode warnings; mentions of murder/killing; the reader character is being targeted by a killer and doesn't know it yet; the reader has a young child (a four year old son); the reader is a cis woman who uses she/her pronouns and a has a vagina; emotional angst between Spencer and the reader; the reader and Spencer had a romantic relationship around season 1/season 2 and this is meant to take place around season 6(ish) but you can picture any later version of Spencer you want; the reason that the reader and Spencer broke up is purposefully vague here but it will be fully revealed in the full story; the reader purposefully kept the pregnancy/Spencer's child away from him; Spencer didn't know he had a child out there in the world; there is some smut in this - unprotected penetration (a flashback to how the baby got here); possibly something that could be labelled as a breeding kink; making love/intense passionate sex; I believe that's in for this short part.

...

The team found themselves buried in paper, looking through the preschool applications for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did.

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers.

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the home until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.”

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.”

“Plus, most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.”

The conversation was easily drowned out for Spencer when he saw it.

It should have been just another page among the sea in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut that brought back a flood of memories he thought that he had locked away forever.

It was you.

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools?

Spencer rushed to tear this paper out from the others in the stack in order to read it more carefully.

You had a son.

…

When you answered the knock on your door, you were entirely lost for words, your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him.

The last thing you were expecting was to find Spencer Reid on your doorstep.

Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion.

Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief.

Shock.

You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here?

“Y/N,”

He said your name in that honey-sweet way, and it brought you rocketing back to that awful night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over.

This brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions.

Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. Regret.

Like your brain was a spin-wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage.

And that was when you finally spoke.

“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom - immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and dropped out to fear. ��What the hell are you doing here?”

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say.

You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch, and you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You screeched, your emotions carrying your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was emotion that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time.

“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You added on with a howl. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?”

You gave him another hard shove - perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, you weren’t even sure.

“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat.

“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out.

“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless.

He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception.

…

You hadn’t taken the news that you were potentially being hunted by a serial killer very well.

Although, strangely enough, that wasn’t even close to being the hot topic when JJ and Spencer got back in the car, watching you pull out of your driveway to attend to something you said was entirely urgent.

“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips.

“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply.

…

Eventually - you did sit down and talk things out with Spencer, calmly.

He had a lot of questions, and you tried your best to answer them.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Spencer asked when it came to the forefront of his mind.

“Sure,” You sighed. “I think we have a few more minutes before you have to go.”

“When did you find out that you were pregnant?” He asked. “Was it - was it before? Or after?”

“After.” You told him. “It - it was about two weeks after. When I took one of those at home tests. And I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to see you again. So just - then and there, I decided that I was gonna raise the kid alone.”

“So - so do you know when-?” Spencer began, and you cut him off.

You already knew what he was going to say.

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’

“No.” You rushed to say.

But it was a lie. You knew.

You felt like you couldn’t tell him the truth about this. If there was one thing you couldn’t afford to do right now, with Spencer Reid sitting at your kitchen table, staring at you with his big, inquisitive, glossy eyes, licking his lips, with his firm jaw set tight in contemplation - you couldn’t afford to go reminiscing with him about the night your son had been conceived.

You had spent a lot of time during your pregnancy thinking. Doing the math. Trying to remember.

And you knew exactly when.

The night was so vivid in your mind.

…

He captured your lips in a smooth, knowing, passionate kiss - you didn’t hesitate to moan into his mouth, and Spencer echoed it right back. He had missed you so much during the day; even though he had seen you less than forty-eight hours before this, he felt decades of yearning in his heart.

When he felt the bare head of his cock bump up against your entrance, smearing your wetness over him, he moaned even harder against your mouth. He pulled away from the kiss with a huff, moving his hand to your hip then as he asked a very important question.

“Do you have a condom?”

It broached the front of his mind, then, that he hadn’t brought one with him.

“You don’t need one.” You breathed out in reply, combing your hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made his hips unconsciously buck forward.

When he felt more of that warm wetness smear across him, his cock just barely dipping into your heat - he didn’t entirely care to decipher the meaning behind your words. He simply trusted you.

“Please, Spencer.” You begged quietly. “I need you. Just you.”

(Later, when he was looking back on it, he would have guessed that you meant you were taking your oral birth control consistently. But looking back on it now - it was the only time within those last months of your relationship that the two of you didn’t use a condom. You were urging him on, and maybe, at the time - a baby truly was what you had in mind.)

He wasn’t one to deny you anyway. And he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself of this.

He reached down and used a hand around the base of his cock to help line himself up, and gently guided the length of his cock into you.

This was always his favorite part.

The gasp - the lilting moan you let out when his cock first slid into you, the way your thighs flexed around his hips - it was all so perfect. But it was even more perfect without the barrier of a condom in the way.

It was perfect. It was so easy; it all came so naturally between the two of you. It was a perfect rhythm between your bodies that came from knowing each other so well, feeling so at ease with each other.

It wasn’t just out of the visceral need to have him inside of you; it was the pure yearning to feel close to him, to have him as physically close as possible.

With you, so tight and beautiful around him - he didn’t last. He couldn’t.

“Y/N.” He warbled out your name, almost as a warning.

“It’s okay.” You breathed back. “Cum for me. Come on, please.”

Spencer couldn’t resist - not when you said ‘please’.

The sound that came from his chest could only be described as a cry, and any fleeting thought he might have had about pulling out left his brain in a millisecond when he felt your tightness fluttering around him, his hips unconsciously fucking deep into you, his body loving the feeling of being held tightly there while your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

He certainly didn’t miss the sweet moans you let out - the bright eyed awe you started up at him with as you felt his cum fill you up for the first time.

…

It was one of the last good memories you had with Spencer - one of the most perfect pictures you had of who he truly was before he came home from Georgia such a different person, and you had no clue why.

Spencer could instantly see the lie in your body language - how closed off you became, how quickly you rushed to cut off his words. Along with the intense heat reflected in your eyes. You were thinking about that night.

He thought he knew exactly which night you were thinking about, and he was going to call you out on it, make you admit in your own words how perfect that night was, even if the two of you were ruined now, a shadow of what you once were.

But he was disrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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gojorgeous · 3 months

Text

“heatwaves”

pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!fem!reader summary: when a work trip takes you to japan, the last thing you expect is a heatwave... and some guy with blue eyes? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, a/b/o dynamics, no established relationship, dubcon (i feel like it’s always kinda dubcon with a/b/o), p->v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, marking, spit, praise, swearing, pet names (baby/sweetheart/princess), brief mention/implication of pregnancy, knotting, reader gets picked up, reader is american, reader is unaware of their omega status, reader experiences their first heat, reader and satoru “bond” without having a fully conscious conversation, reader and satoru are early twenties. a/n: it's here! somebody spay me. by popular demand i have written alpha!gojo for you all… just a classic reader goes into an accidental heat at work and (x) character happens to be the nearest alpha LMAO. this is entirely uncreative, but i love it for that!!! straight smut with a little plot if you squint hard enough! i hope it lives up to your expectations. find my alpha!geto fic here and find the list of my 1k event fics here. enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. wc: 5k

Nobody ever told you that Japan was so damn hot.

Hot was not what came to mind when you’d heard you’d be taking a trip to Tokyo. Temples? Sure. Mt. Fuji? Great. Hot? No fucking way.

But, here you were, boiling away under the sun on what you’d thought would be a fun little work trip. Instead, you were just suffering with every step, trying to listen to what Principal Yaga was saying and failing miserably.

“These are the sparring courts. No students right now, but they’ll start training within the hour.”

You rub at the back of your neck, cringing when your palm comes away coated with a thin layer of sweat. Gross.

You lift your eyes to the sky, wondering how much longer this was going to take. Your little trip to Japan was to organize an exchange program with Jujutsu Tech. Your students had been begging to take a trip to Tokyo, to where their cursed energy would be closer to the source and, consequently, stronger. You had to admit, it was a good idea. A few months spent training here in Japan would do them good. From the moment you’d set foot on Japanese soil, your power had thrummed faster in your veins than ever before.

Principal Yaga was giving you a tour of the grounds and had sealed your horrible fate when he’d decided to start outside. You barely heard a word the man said. New York was never this hot…

“Are you alright?” You blink, fanning your face as best you can. It provides no relief. God, it felt like the heat was penetrating your fucking bones…

When your eyes slide to Principal Yaga, you’re surprised to see that he looks genuinely concerned. “Y-yeah.” You blink again, shocked by your own stutter. Maybe you were coming down with something? “I’m fine, just not used to this kind of heat, I guess.” You fan your face again and clench your jaw when it still does nothing.

Yaga’s brows furrow and you see him glance around, like he’ll find said heat standing next to him. How was he wearing so many layers?

“How about we head inside and take a break, then? We can continue the tour… later.” You nearly fall to the ground and kiss his feet. Air conditioning is truly God's gift to man…

You smile and it’s all genuine. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

Yaga nods, but you think his eyes linger on you for just a beat too long before he turns. He still looks confused… or maybe flustered? That only leaves you confused.

You follow after him, each step feeling like you’re sinking deep into cement. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying to get some ventilation. When you finally reach the building you nearly sigh with relief. Air conditioning… that’ll be good. Just what you need. A few minutes inside and you’ll be good to go. You’ll just have to remember not to wear so many damn layers again when you continue the tour.

You’re smiling as you step inside, so ready for relief that you’re practically shaking– but relief never comes. Your brows furrow. You brush your arm through the air. It… doesn’t help. It’s strange– you can feel the coolness of the air conditioning, feel it gliding up and across your skin, but the heat doesn’t subside, doesn’t so much as lessen.

“I trust you know how to find anything you might–” Yaga clears his throat. “Need?”

Your brows furrow. He’d shown you all the school’s resources last night and your room was already stocked with food, toiletries, and every other thing you could possibly need. Of course you knew where everything was…

“Yes… Thank you.”

Yaga shifts so uncomfortably you think that maybe he’s about to pee his pants. “Right, well, you have my contact information. Let me know if I can be of assistance in connecting you to any… resources.”

You’re more confused now than you were at the start of this conversation. “Right…”

“Take care.”

Yaga shoots you one last– worried?- glance and stalks down the hall. You’re left wondering what the hell is happening in his mind and why he seemed so desperate to offer you resources?

You blink, clearing your mind as best you can, but some sort of fog seems to be settling over your consciousness. Definitely coming down with something, you think.

You make your way through the halls, steps still feeling suspiciously heavy and heat still radiating off your body. A cold shower. That’ll help. Or so you thought. The further you walk, the more each hallway starts to look like the next. Was it left or right next? Was this hallway always a dead end? Since when was there a bathroom there?

You’re leaning against the wall now, panting. Something is pooling in your gut, something warm and far too intense. Your inner thighs are wet, too. You want to convince yourself it’s sweat, but… you’re horny. More horny than you’ve ever been in your whole damn life. You think you might die if you don’t get some dick in the next ten minutes. What the fuck?

You slide yourself into the next room you see: an empty classroom. Thank fucking god. You grab the back of a chair, hands shaking with how hard you’re gripping the wood. You take a deep breath. You need to get a hold of yourself, need to figure out what the fuck is happening to you.

You swallow and try your best to think. It’s not without difficulty. Your head feels like somebody’s filled it with glue. It takes a minute for a coherent thought to come through, but when it does, you think it’s a good one. Doctor.

Yes– you don’t feel well, so obviously a doctor is the correct choice, right? You scramble for your phone in your back pocket but freeze when the brush of your own hand against your ass sends a jolt up your spine. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Carefully, you extract your phone from your pocket, but it’s too difficult to even remember your fucking passcode. You press your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the overwhelming ache that’s forming between your legs. Something is definitely wrong.

You fumble with your phone, but your hands are shaking so hard it just tumbles to the floor.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck?”

“Yo, who’s baking cookies in here without me?”

Your head snaps up and, with some difficulty, your eyes settle on a… man. You suck in a breath. He’s… dazzling. He’s wearing all black, but it’s not a student uniform. One of the teachers that you’ve yet to meet, then. White hair and pale skin contrasts against his clothes, but his eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses set low on his nose. Even in your delirious state you still have the wherewithal to wonder who the fuck wears sunglasses inside.

You get a quick look at him before a wave of intense- fuck, desire?- washes over you. You tremble again and shock yourself when a whimper tumbles from your lips.

“Oh, shit,” you hear him say. You glance at him from the corner of your eye and watch him inhale again– deeply. His lips part. “Oh, shit.”

You clench your jaw and tighten your grip on your chair. Your legs are shaking now– you can barely stand. You squeak pitifully.

The second the sound leaves your throat you hear footsteps– rapid, hurried, concerned, ones. Warm hands clasp your waist and you cry out at the touch, electricity sparking on your skin.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He turns you gently to face him, hands steadying your swaying body. “Who the fuck left you alone in here?” His hand is rubbing soothing circles on your lower back now and you think you’ve never felt something so good in your life. It’s so good that you almost miss what he said. Almost.

“W-What?” You see his brows furrow as you peek up at him. At this angle you can see under his sunglasses. His eyes are blue. Really fucking blue. You think he might be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, even with the expression of… anger?- that he’s currently wearing.

“Whoever he is, I'll kill him.”

That makes you blink. An extra sliver of clarity opens in your brain. “What are you talking about?”

He tugs you a little closer, wrapping an arm fully around your waist and pressing you up against him. You try to ignore the fact that you love it, that you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and climb him like a fucking tree.

“What idiot leaves an omega going into heat?” He’s glaring at the doorway like he’s torn between staying here with you and running after said idiot to pommel him into the ground.

“‘M not an omega.” The words are out before you’ve even stopped to consider them. It’s true. You’re not an omega. You’re a beta. You’ve always been a beta. You’ve got the little “B” on your ID card to prove it. You were tested at birth, just like everyone else, and even if you really were an omega you would have presented years ago.

He only glances down at you and snorts. “Funny, sweetheart.” His hand is still rubbing those little circles into your back and it’s enough to make that fogginess in your mind grow a little thicker.

But your fear, your uncertainty outways your instinct. You pound a weak fist against his chest, not to push him away, but to get his attention. He’s still glaring at the doorway like he wants to murder it.

“‘M serious,” you gasp. “I’m a beta… I don’... know whas’ happenin’… to me.” Each word is a tremendous effort to form. Your tongue seems to have lost its ability to do anything but hang limply.

That gets his attention. He lifts a hand, gently brushing your hair back from your eyes and then cupping your jaw. “Is this your first heat?”

You find yourself leaning into his touch despite the fact that you’ve only known him for thirty seconds. Your eyelids flutter. “N-Not a heat… jus’ feel… sick.”

His brows furrow again, deeper this time, and he shakes his head. “How old are you?”

You know why he asks. Most omegas present around eighteen or nineteen. “Older than… nineteen…” You try to laugh, but it only comes out as a whimper.

That answer only serves to make him push closer. You feel his hand trailing down your neck, skimming gently over the skin until he reaches a spot you hadn't even realized was so… sore. You keen at the touch. Fuck, no. There was no way. You had swollen fucking scent glands.

You try to push away, but he pulls you in, burying his face in your neck. You shudder when he groans. “You smell like a damn bakery exploded,” he chuckles, and the sound is muffled by your skin. When he pulls away he makes it look like the action is physically painful. He cups your face again. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re an omega. If this is your first heat then…” he swallows and your eyes track the bob of his throat. “You’re just a late bloomer, baby.”

You shake your head desperately. It’s just the stupid heatwave. It’s just… hot outside… right?

You try to think about how this could be possible. It could be that the test you took as a baby was wrong… it happened sometimes. It was rare, but it happened. But if you were an omega, what would have triggered your presentation now? What had changed?

Your eyes widen. Japan. You’d set foot in fucking Japan. Ever since you’d gotten here, you’d felt power pulsing in your veins. Maybe it hadn’t been just power…

“N-no–”

A gentle thumb smooths over your cheek and you meet his eyes again. You shiver when you see a whole lot more black than blue. “You have no alpha?”

You whimper, leaning into him. Touch me, touch me, touch me, a part of you begs. You shake your head again and a tear slides down your cheek. “No,” you whisper.

Strong arms slide beneath your knees and you squeak when you’re suddenly suspended in the air. When you glance up he’s grinning triumphantly. “You have one now,” is all he says before he’s carrying you out of the classroom and twisting through the halls.

Warmth rushes over you at the sensation of being held, and something begs you to give into it, to give into the heat still washing over you, to the throbbing between your legs. You fight it and fight it hard.

“Where’re we going?” you ask, but your voice is sounding more and more like a whisper.

His eyes stay focused ahead, even as he presses a comforting kiss to the crown of your head. “Your room, sweetheart.”

Your brows scrunch. “How d’ you know where–”

“‘M following your scent, baby.”

He can do that? You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed, only to be hit by a different scent so delicious your mouth starts watering. You groan. Loudly. There’s a scent pouring from his neck that’s filling your head with memories of spices you can’t name, but suddenly know you love.

You think you hear him chuckle and then feel a gentle hand on the back of your neck, encouraging you. You snuggle deeper into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and burying your fingers in his hair. Taste him, taste him, taste him your mind chants. It’s too good an offer to deny. You lick a stripe across his skin.

Your groans are instant. He’s squeezing you closer, leaning into your touch, and you’re pulling him closer. Your fingers curl into his jacket, tugging and tugging. You lick again and now he’s the one groaning.

“Damn, that feels good,” He sounds as surprised by that fact as you feel. The swaying of his steps comes to a sudden halt. You whine, missing the rocking of his body. “Think we’re here, princess. This it?” His hand is smoothing over your hair, slowly coaxing you away from the curve of his neck. You blink, not wanting to leave the paradise of his scent, but also feeling some overwhelming urge to please him.

Your eyes settle on a door and you recognize a little chip in the wood. You nod. “Mhm.”

You gasp when his hand grips your hip, wriggling through your pocket until he pulls out a little brass key.

“Perfect,” he says, and his voice sounds like he’s all too pleased with himself. He shimmies your key in the knob until the lock clicks and then you’re inside. The door slams shut loud enough to make you jump and squeak.

“Oops, sorry, baby. Guess I’m a little excited, heh.” His hand squeezes your hip soothingly and you mewl at the wave of heat that pulses through you. Your clit throbs almost painfully and you feel something gush onto your thighs. You whimper.

He inhales. “Oh, shit,” he breathes, and then you’re moving again. He navigates your room like he knows it. He probably does. From what you can tell, most of the rooms at Jujutsu Tech follow a standard layout. He weaves down a hall to the left and then into your bedroom on the right.

He lays you on the bed gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid you might break if he drops you so much as an inch. “There we go,” he breathes. You can’t deny that it feels good, that it feels right, to be lying on the softness of your mattress, but it’s not enough.

You claw at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close. You want something from him, need something, but you can’t name what. You just know that the heat boiling beneath your skin can only be sated by him, that the throbbing between your legs can only be calmed by him. “P-Please,” you whimper. Tears well in your eyes. You need him so bad it physically hurts.

The smile he gives you is soft and genuine and it takes your breath away. He dips his head and you think you see him slide those sunglasses down his nose and toss them to the side. You don’t pay too close attention, though, because he’s kissing your neck again and your body is screaming with sensation.

“Aw, I know, baby. Don’ worry. ‘M gonna take care of you now. Jus’ relax.”

His words spark something in you– your last bit of consciousness. A brief moment of clarity shines through the fog of your mind and you remember what the hell is happening, what the hell you’re doing. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head desperately. No, no, no, this is not happening to you. There’s no way.

“Hey, now. None a’ that.” Fingers clasp your chin, holding you still. When you peek your eyes open, you see that he has in fact removed his sunglasses and that his eyes are more black pupil than dazzling blue. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is heavy. “Don’t try t’ fight it. Jus’ try to enjoy it…” His head dips and suddenly he’s nipping at your scent gland again.

You thrash and scream, but not in fear or pain. You’ve never felt something so good in your life. Every graze of his teeth feels like heaven. Your skin zings with electricity, sending pulses of pure need straight between your thighs.

You grab at him, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging him closer. Your chest is heaving when you speak. “Please, p-please-”

“Shhh…” You think you hear your shirt tearing, but you’re too focused on pulling him closer to care. His tongue licks a stripe up your throat and your eyes roll back.

You’re sure your shirt is off now. You can feel the cool air, but it does nothing to ease the heat raging inside you, pulsing and pumping through your veins.You feel him tugging at your pants, too, and you try to raise your hips. He only shushes you again. “Jus’ relax. Let me do the work, baby.”

Your pants are gone in seconds, even without your assistance. So is your bra and then your panties. He tries pulling away to undress himself, but you mewl and his eyes blow even blacker before he’s back over you again. He settles for popping the buttons straight off his shirt and shimmying out of his pants.

The sight of his bare skin makes you whimper and then you’re clawing at him again, dragging your fingers across his shoulders, over his chest, down his abs. It’s a greedy touch and one that he returns. His palms move along your body, kneading and squeezing at any flesh he can grab. It feels so good that you think you might pass out– but it’s still not enough. Something is still missing. You feel… empty.

His fingers trace across your stomach and it’s too late to realize what’s happening before he’s circling your clit. You jerk and jolt at the touch, but he presses his chest to yours, pinning you. The throbbing only worsens when his fingers settle into a rhythm.

Tears leak down your cheeks. It’s too overwhelming. You’re burning– burning from the inside out. The pulsing between your thighs is all-consuming with its intensity, with its-

“Need! N-Need–” you’re crying out, but you don’t even know what to ask for– don’t even know what you need.

“God, Fuck, I know, princess,” he groans. He licks a long stripe up your neck. “But ‘s your first heat. Gotta–” he has to pause to swallow. He’s panting, now, just as lost as you are, and you get the sense that he’s restraining himself. “Gotta get you ready… go slow.”

You shake your head. Now, now, now is all you can think. You need him now. “No… please…” You bury your head in his neck and find that spot that’s pouring his spicy scent into the air. Your mouth waters and you lick him, letting your teeth graze his skin.

“Fuck!” He shivers atop you and you feel the pure strength restrained within his muscles. “Fuck- okay. Okay. Relax f’ me, princess.”

You try, you really do, but your body refuses to do anything but try to pull him closer. You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them up, up, up until they’re pressed tightly to your chest and your feet are dangling on his shoulders. The position makes you whine, feeling more exposed than you ever have before.

“You on birth control, baby?”

Your brows furrow. It’s becoming harder and harder to focus on what he’s saying rather than simply the sound of his voice. Were you? You try to think, try to remember through the pit of glue that is your brain. No…

You shake your head. “N-No…”

There’s a slight pause, a beat of contemplation, and then he’s laughing. “Guess I’m bouta be a daddy then, heh.” He chuckles again and the sound rings through you with a wave of pure bliss. His lips brush your neck again, settling on your pulse and making you whine. “Don’t really mind as long as I get you.” Your head rolls back submissively, exposing your throat. Yes, yes, yes, your mind screams. There’s nothing you want more than that, you think.“Okay, here we go, baby.”

There’s hardly any more warning. One second you feel him shifting between your thighs and the next he’s pressing inside of you, feeding his cock in inch by inch. The stretch is… delicious. It burns, fuels that fire inside you, but it makes the heat feel more… pleasurable. Your back arches and your head rolls back submissively.

“Oh, fuck, princess.” His voice has gotten higher, more like a whine than anything else. When you gaze up at him you can see the flush in his cheeks, even through the fog in your mind. More, more, more your mind screams. Or maybe you say it aloud, because more is exactly what he gives you. The second you feel him tucked up against your cervix the second he begins to take you. He sets a pace that is somehow both brutal and gentle, with strokes that rattle your skull and also give you exactly what you need. His hands grip your hips, holding you still to take exactly what he wants to give. His head dips until he has his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his tongue is swirling so deliciously that you can’t help but drag your nails down his back.

Your body rocks with every thrust, teeth rattling and eyes rolling. The heat inside you grows… tighter, like it’s all pooling to your core, waiting for something you still can’t quite name.

“N-need…” You don’t know what you need, still. Only that you want to beg for it so badly it hurts.

His tongue slides away from your nipple, tracing a line up between the valley of your breasts, over your collarbone, before he finally settles on your pulse once again. The nick of his teeth makes something click in your mind. This is what you need. Bite me, bite me, bite. Claim me, claim me, claim me.

“Yes,” you breathe. Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, coaxing his teeth to sink in, to stake their claim. “Oh God, yes. Please.” You sound delirious, you think, but then so does he when he answers.

“Not yet, princess. Not yet.” His tongue darts out to lick across your neck again and you can only sob. Why not yet? Now, now, now…

Tightness coils in your muscles, the throb at your core reaching a breaking point. You feel something coming, something like an orgasm but yet also not. You know that when whatever is pooling inside you releases, you will shatter, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be put back together.

Your nails claw across his back hard enough to draw blood and the action forces out some sort of low grumble from his chest that makes you whimper and melt into the mattress. The tip of his nose draws a line up your throat. “Keep doin’ that, baby. Mark me up.”

You don’t dare deny him. You scratch at his skin, desperately trying to pull him closer. His thrusts grow faster and your thighs begin to tremble and shake on his shoulders, overwhelmed with the intensity of all you’re feeling. You pull at him, grab at him, thread your fingers through his hair.

Your body jolts with each thrust and you’re sure you’re going to burst any moment. But you can’t. Not yet. You still need something, something he hasn’t given you yet. He groans and the sound is so delicious that you feel it sliding over your skin and settling in your bones.

“M’ gonna knot you now, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take care ‘ve you.”

You whimper at his words. You hope they’re true. You don’t think you can take much more of the incessant gnawing of need in your gut.

“Please…” your voice is hardly more than a whisper. His breath is hot as it shakes against your neck. He’s licking and nipping at you ravenously, like he needs you just as badly, like he wants to claim you as badly as you want to be claimed.

His thrusts quicken even further and your jaw falls open, neck arching. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. Apparently, neither can he.

You feel it the moment he starts to swell inside you. It’s perfect, you think. It can’t get better than this– but then it does.

His teeth graze your throat again, this time a little harsher and with a little more intent. “Mine,” he whispers. The second he bites you everything goes blurry.

You’re experiencing… heaven. There is a rush of that electricity that buzzes under your skin. It bursts forth and you feel it reaching out, forming a link between the two of you that you know is now impenetrable. It pulses and burns and you can feel him, feel his pleasure, his desire, his need for you and only you– his need to make you his. You think your souls must be blending, merging, with how deep the connection runs. You think you know him, know everything you could possibly ever need to. You know he’s the one. You know he’s yours.

It’s perfect, the way it fulfills every desire you’ve ever had, the way he notches inside your cunt like that’s where he was made to be, the way his teeth clamp around your throat and bond you together forever.

You scream for him, you think, but you can’t tell through the complete and total haze of pleasure. Your walls spasm around him, milking him for every last drop, and you feel the heat of his cum coating your cervix. The heat at your center finally releases, bursting and flooding through you in a way that feels like pure bliss has been injected into your veins. Your thighs quake and tremble with the pure intensity of it all and white spots dot your vision.

His body is tense above you, shivering with the magnitude of what’s just happened. He’s groaning into your neck, your flesh still clamped between his teeth like he never wants to let go. You’re not sure you ever want him to.

Your breaths shake in and out, lungs heaving as you finally come down. His knot is still settled deep inside you and with the few strings of consciousness that slowly filter back into your mind you know that he’ll remain there for a while.

His teeth release from your neck with a squelch that you think you would be sickening in any other context, but only makes you whimper at the loss of contact. He only hums and finds your hand, twining your fingers together as he laps at the fresh bite on your throat. It feels… amazing. Not in the way it felt before, like he was licking pure lust straight onto your skin, but more like he’s giving you a comfort you have never known in your life. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt you here.

His lips press a final kiss to your throat before you feel him shifting. He gently rolls you both onto your sides, getting comfortable and pulling you to his chest while you both wait for the next wave of lust to hit you. It will, you know. Sooner rather than later, too. Your mind has cleared enough to realize what’s happening, what’s to come. You won’t be leaving this room, this bed, for quite some time.

A gentle hand brushes a sweaty lock of hair from your eyes before it settles on the nape of your neck, massaging the sore muscles there. You sigh and raise your gaze to find him already looking at you, an easy smile on his lips. He has dimples, you realize, and he’s… breathtaking. And now… he’s all yours.

There’s a beat of silence between you, a moment of reconciliation with what’s just happened between you, of what it means. You blink up at him, your lips parting to say something, anything, but instead your brows furrow in thought.

His smile drops instantly. He leans into you, thumb caressing your cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Your mouth runs dry. You peek up at him from beneath your lashes. “What’s your name?”

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sjyuns · 8 months

Text

WAY BACK HOME ┆ A SIM JAEYUN ONESHOT

BREAKING NEWS! the friendly neighbourhood superhero spider-man has been caught trying to swing into a girl’s heart — but why is he failing miserably?! is this the spider-man we all know and love? or has our hero lost his spark?

or in which sim jaeyun asks you, his best friend out, forgetting that he was still in his spider-man suit.

GENRE! best friends to lovers, mutual pining, extremely groundbreaking embarrassing pick up lines, my missed hit at being a comdeian, jaeyun being jaeyun ( ie a hot loser ),

CAUTION! idiots in love, two timing ( but they’re the same person ), kissing, love, mentions of weapons and fighting crime, bad pickup lines, embarrassment for sim jaeyun, both reader and jaeyun are nineteen in this fic

WORDCOUNT! 5100

MIKAELA’S! hey everyone, this is the first ever oneshot i’m posting on my shiny new blog! please feel free to leave feedback through reblogs or asks! hope you enjoy jake embarrassing the soul out of himself🫶 i love sim jaeyun so much ( too much it’s embarrassing tbh ) this is the last of my old drafts, sorry for the spam!

playlist ⟡ way back home — shaun ⟡ forever only — jaehyun ⟡ pov — ariana grande ⟡ daylight — taylor swift

i. with great power comes a platter of hot embarrassment

“With great power comes great responsibility,” is what Spider-Man once said in an interview with The Daily Times, the most widely read newspaper company in all of Seoul.

It’s so out of character of Sim Jaeyun that he himself wonders what exactly went through his mind at that given time to blurt out such a philosophical quote — especially when he was having the bad urge to take a piss at that very moment.

But whatever it was: he needs it to return now, because he’s standing in front of you, his best friend, and he thinks that now's the chance; to finally ask you out after saving you.

Unfortunately Sim Jaeyun is out of luck, like he always is with you, because nothing but five utterly embarrassing words come out of his mouth.

“You tingle my spidey senses.”

You choke back a laugh as you stare at the masked superhero, amused at his sudden pick-me-up. “Are you rizzing me up, mister friendly neighbourhood hero?”

It seems like too much thinking has altered the already broken thought process in Sim Jaeyun’s brain, because it is only now that he registers that he’s still in his Spider-Man suit, and you don’t have a single clue that he’s Spider-Man.

“Uh, I mean-” but he’s cut off by the roaring cheer of the gathered public, who have their phones out and recording.

“Don’t back down, Spider-Man,” a citizen calls out, and Jaeyun thinks it’s far too late to back out now, because not only will it crush his ego, you might think Spider-Man isn’t as cool as he seemed to be.

“Would you let me swing into your heart- I mean, could we” he pauses, “could we hang out sometime?”

You smile, and it makes Jaeyun frown slightly under his mask, because he knows that smile — it’s the polite one, the one you use in a slightly uncomfortable situation, as if you didn’t want to embarrass the popular superhero standing in front of you at the moment.

“Sure,” you grin, pearly whites on display, “could I bring my best friend Jaeyun though? He’s a big fan.” It’s him, he thinks, he’s the Jaeyun you’re talking about. And his heart skips a beat at your thoughtful action.

“Okay! Tomorrow, here, five in the evening,” he says in excitement without a second thought. You’ve just agreed to go out on a date with him, and he’s too drunk in love to think about how he’s going to meet you as Spider-Man without telling you his identity.

He shoots a web up and swings after shouting an elated “see you, yn,” in the air. All too caught up in you to realise the three critical mistakes he’d made.

ONE. He never asked for your name as Spider-Man

TWO. There’s no way he could ever go on a date with his suit on in public

THREE. How in the fucking world is he going to a date with you as both Spider-Man and Sim Jaeyun?

Sim Jaeyun spends the whole night twisting and turning in his bed, mind in a flurry as he tries to think of the smartest way to solve these problems.

And it doesn’t help him when his phone pings with a new message from you.

Guess who just bagged us a hang out with Spider-Man tomorrow!

Don’t wear that Spider-Man suit or I swear to god I will not bring you to see him.

He sighs as he presses hard on the power button of his phone, staring blanking at the black screen. Fuck power or responsibility, he thinks, all he wants is his best friend’s heart, is that too much to ask for?

ii. man up, spidey-boy!

“BREAKING NEWS! Spider-Man spotted trying to swing into a girl’s — who supposedly goes by the name yn, heart. And after failing miserably at the first try, he succeeded on the second. Spidey may be a hero who saves lives, but it seems like he might have to take up what youngster’s call ‘rizz’ classes.”

The wide billboard screen casts a video taken by a bystander as the announcer's voice blared into the main junction of the city.

Jaeyun groans as he hangs his head low, adjusting the baseball cap perched on top of his head to cover his face. Not like anyone knew he was Spider-Man, no, but it was just far too embarrassing for him.

He hears you before he sees you, your voice is illegally sweet as it causes a smile to appear on his face amidst all of the stress. “Jaeyun!” You call, “you’re unusually late,” and Jaeyun groans, blaming it on the lack of sleep he had gotten last night, “Spider-Man isn’t here yet.”

Right, Spider-Man. Jaeyun still hasn’t found a solution to that.

His suit is tucked safely in the bottom of his bag, just in case. But for now, Jaeyun thinks it’s a better decision to disappoint you as Spider-Man instead of as your best friend. Besides, he hasn’t missed a single hang out session with you, and he isn’t ever planning to.

“Do you think he’s actually going to come?” You ask, head tilting in question and eyes soft, and Jaeyun wonders if he actually underestimated how much you liked Spider-Man, misunderstood that seemingly polite smile you gave him yesterday — should he have came as Spider-Man instead?

“Uhm,” he pauses, hesitant to squash your expectations, “how about we go first? I’m sure Spider-Man will swing by, it seems like he likes you a lot.” And even though he was talking about himself, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy bubbling in him at the thought of another boy liking you.

“Right,” you say, giving him a smile that makes his heart melt, “I guess it’s just us, like it always is.” Your fingers wrap around his, “I like it like this.” You mutter softly, yet in the buzz of the city square, Jaeyun catches the whisper of your voice, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

“Plus, if I ever need, you can be my Spider-Man — whip out that fake suit of yours. You have his physique anyway, and your pick up lines are just as idiotic as his. Maybe even more idiotic.”

Jaeyun lets out a loud laugh, one that’s of melodious dreams, and it causes a few pedestrians to stare but he doesn’t care, not when you’re next to him, asking him to be your very own Spider-Man. And he agrees immediately, all too ready to put on the ‘fake’ red and blue suit just for you.

He’s a little amused that you still believe that he’s a hardcore fan of Spider-Man, because the only time you’ve caught him wearing that very suit was two years ago, when you coincidentally entered his room to see him in a Spider-Man suit without a mask.

And he still remembers your accusations of him being a fanboy, asking him if dressing up as his idol was what he did in his free time. Jaeyun was way too flustered to even explain himself, and letting you know that he was the real Spider-Man never even crossed his mind as he bashfully nodded to your words.

But it wasn’t like you ever laughed at him about it, though you did tease him. You would still buy him different types of Spider-Man merchandise, ranging from Spider-Man socks to a custom Spider-Man mug with the words ‘Spider-Man loves Jaeyun’ in bold red.

With every gift given, came an opportunity to reveal his identity. Yet Sim Jaeyun never seizes it, he refuses to, because he finds it so endearing — the way you have the proudest smile on your face as you give him merchandise of himself that he has never seen before, the way you send him a picture of every single Spider-Man related thing you see on the streets.

“Right,” he nods as he gazes adoringly at you, “forget the real Spider-Man, I’ll swing into your heart.” And the giggle you let out once again makes his knees weak — he thinks the smile plastered on your face is much more genuine than the one he saw yesterday.

And he wants to kiss you so bad, tell you exactly how much he likes you, loves you. This familiar feeling that has settled comfortably at the bottom of his heart and back of his mind for the past four years, has only grown and never dwindled. It was times like this, where he didn’t feel the burden of having to be alert about ongoing crime.

Only with you can he feel like Sim Jaeyun — a lovesick nineteen year old and not Spider-Man, the hero of Seoul.

“Jaeyun, what do you want to do first?” You ask, pulling him through the blaring fun of the amusement park. He hums, following behind your excited figure, letting you choose what you wanted to do. “Oh my god, look it’s a Spider-Man toy.”

You halt in your step and immediately turn towards him, eyes sparkling. “Do you want it Jaeyun? I’ll get it for you. Just so you aren’t too sad that Spider-Man ghosted us today.”

He scoffs, as he examines the booth. It’s a shooting game, and he knows that you suck at shooting. “You sure, love? From what I remember, you aren’t too good at shooting games,” he brings up and you shoot him a sharp glare before pestering him to pay the vendor.

You end up blaming your best friend for jinxing you, “Yun, if you never said that, I could have shot them all down,” you complain, eyes morphing into slits as you pinpoint the blame on him. Jaeyun raises his two hands in innocence, face displaying an expression of shock, “I didn’t even say anything wrong, plus you barely hit one out of five balloons.”

You groan, shushing him in embarrassment, “If you’re such a professional, win it for me then,” you challenge him. Jaeyun shrugs, it’ll be easy — all those years of shooting webs has made him extremely sharp, so he manages to shoot all the five balloons without any effort, snagging the coveted Spider-Man doll.

“You sure you don’t want it, Yun?” you question, “add it to your collection as a fanboy.” He shakes his head, handing you the plush toy, “I won it for you. Plus, I like the ones you gave me more.”

It overwhelms you, the stark sincerity in his voice. And you feel the sudden need to kiss him, not like you’ve never thought of it before (more like you’ve thought about it too much), because Sim Jaeyun with his bright personality and handsome face is far too good to be real.

But you can’t bring yourself to be that direct, so you settle for a kiss on the cheek. A quick movement and a short peck before you let out a loud giggle, walking over to the next booth with a stupid smile plastered on your face, leaving Jaeyun in shock and awe — eyes wide and mouth agape before he bites back a smile.

He thinks it’s too hard to conceal his feelings any longer; that he has to tell you soon, next week, tomorrow, or maybe even now. And he feels the three words, eight letters, at the tip of his tongue.

As always, though, he swallows them back down, throat dry as he stares at you. The fear of rejection far too intense for him to handle.

How ironic, that Sim Jaeyun could fight criminals with equipped daggers that could kill him in one swift motion, yet he could not say three simple words to a girl who has pierced his heart and filled his stomach with butterflies.

iii. in a sticky predicament

“Now on to our very own Spider-Man’s upcoming love story that seems to be wilting by the looks of it — Spidey, in fact, did not show up to his date with yn, who was seen with another boy at the amusement park. Our very own hero is facing multiple accusations that he may be, like his representative colour, a red flag. However, a minority of fans have brought up a speculation; that the boy we call Spider-Man, might be the very boy accompanying yn yesterday unmasked. That’s all for Spider-Man, here on The Daily News.”

“Don’t you think that’s insane Jaeyun?” you laugh, throwing your head back into the soft pillow on his bed, “they think you’re Spider-Man.”

“Right,” he trails on, arms crossed as he leans on the doorframe, “that’s so impossible.”

His laugh awkward as his fingers find themselves combing through his hair for the nth time. And you turn your head, looking at him with suspicion. Right, that’d be crazy, insane maybe, you think, because Sim Jaeyun was well — him. He’s slightly awkward, likes physics, and hell he’s scared of bugs, so it’ll be mind blowing if he ever was the real Spider-Man.

But impossible, you think, might not be true. And you sit up on the edge of the bed, eyes trained on him. Same physique, similar height, he’s athletic, and he shoots well. Plus, from your ever so short encounter with Spider-Man saving you from getting your wallet stolen, Spider-Man is just as awkward as your best friend.

Could he really be Spider-Man? But he’s a fan of Spider-Man, wouldn’t it be weird if he was such a big fan of himself. Still, you couldn’t rule out the possibility.

“Jump,” you instruct, “hang upside down on the walls.” Jake is shocked, as his heart accelerates in nervousness at the thought of being found out.

“Don’t be weird,” he groans, trying to keep calm, “that’s literally humanly impossible.” His mind racing, finding a way to get out of this sticky situation, because as much as he wants to tell you his identity, the last way he wanted you to find out was through the internet. Also, maybe because you looked slightly angry, with your eyebrows furrowed and hands on your head, and Jaeyun didn’t want you to be mad at him.

You were deep in thought, was that why Spider-Man didn’t show up yesterday — because he is actually Sim Jaeyun, and he couldn’t be there as two different people.

That might be a stretch, but it isn’t an impossible scenario. You tilt your head, quickly grabbing the pillow you were just lying on, throwing it at him, “catch.”

He catches it easily, with one hand even, as his face contorts into an expression of surprise. “Don’t scare me like that, love,” he says. But you’re too flabbergasted at the fast reflexes of your best friend to even comprehend his complaint.

“You could really give Spider-Man a run for his money, you know?” you chuckle, as you tell yourself that no matter how much it might fit, it’s probably just a coincidence, “put on that suit of yours and fight crime.” It was all a coincidence, right?

“What if I’m scared of getting hurt,” he pouts, and you snort. With Sim Jaeyun’s level of cowardice, there’s no way he could ever be out there fighting.

“Then I’ll protect you,” you say, “I’ll be your sidekick, all you have to do is stand there and look pretty.”

He grins, walking over to stand in front of you; hands moving to ruffle your hair. “Okay love, you lead, I’ll follow.”

iv. tell him to grow a pair

Your newfound popularity brings you more drawbacks than benefits — by that you mean the sudden fury of boys approaching you to ask for your number. It annoys Jaeyun more than it does you, as your best friend flaunts a new irritated look that you’ve rarely seen.

“That’s the sixth fucking boy,” he grumbles, eyes rolling before he glares at the fleeting figure of Lee Heeseung, the boy who just asked you for your number, the boy who Jaeyun lashed out at.

“Be kind, Yun,” you chuckle, amused at your best friend’s sudden grumpiness, “I mean, I’ve never lashed out at any of the girl’s who ask you out.”

“No one has asked me out.” he groans, “are you flaunting right now?”

“Yes I am,” you reply, “don’t worry Jaeyun, you’ll always be my loser.”

He lets out a loud exaggerated sigh as he rolls his eyes, leaning against the locker as he grits his teeth in exasperation.

You wonder why no girl has ever hit Sim Jaeyun up. Granted, he wasn’t the best looking guy back in middle school with his choice of brightly coloured clothes that blinded eyes, but you think that was part of the appeal — how awkwardly adorable he was. Now, with his upgraded fashion style and bubbly personality, it’s a miracle no one has tried their shot at bagging him. Not that you wanted anyone to.

Sim Jaeyun is yours, just as much as you are his.

And he thinks the exact same. Despite what you think, he has had a girl approach him, professing his love only to get turned down by his puppy-like smile and his confession that he liked you.

Though his body exudes jealousy, there's a slight bit of relief at the fact that you turned all six of the boys down, telling them that you had a crush on someone else. He hopes, prays, begs that the person you think about is him. He furiously looks for a sign, because he’s tired of all this, and he needs a sign from you before he can courageously make the first move.

After school, the both of you walk down the buzzing streets with carts of street food lined up along the roadside. Your fingers bunching the fabric of Jaeyun’s shirt as he navigates the both of you through the crowded streets, making a beeline for his favourite churros shop.

“I told you the queue would be long, it’s Friday night,” you whine, mentally counting the number of people in front of you. Fifteen, that’ll take a while. “We should have just ordered in pizza and binge on Netflix shows.”

“Fine, we can eat churros another day,” Jaeyun pouts and you curse yourself for saying that even when you knew he wanted to eat churros.

“It’s fine, we can stay, since we’re already here.” You stop him, pulling him back beside you in the queue, “but you can’t leave to do something else like last time, you have to wait with me.”

The glow on his face coupled with the adorable smile on his lips makes you stare in awe. And you think Sim Jaeyun is so pretty and handsome all at once it’s a crime to look as good as him. His lips, god, they look so kissable and soft, you wish you could kiss them at any given time — now, tomorrow, forever.

But the moment doesn’t last long, as faint screams and shouts travel from a small corner shop down the road. “Thief, there’s a thief on the run.”

You watch as Jaeyun’s eyes widen, body in a sudden scramble, “uhm, I’m gonna go to the toilet for a moment,” he says amidst the whispers of the crowd, “stomach ache, you know.” Running off before you can give him a reply, brushing past people hurriedly into a random narrow street.

You shrug it off again because it isn’t the first time Jaeyun has acted out of character. However, you can’t help but realise it was always when there was crime.

The questions and suspicions floating around your head for the past week resurface as you focus on the narrow street your best friend had disappeared into.

Oh my god.

You blink profusely, pinch yourself, and rub your eyes because this is mind blowing information. You can’t seem to believe an ounce of what your eyes have just seen. Was that Spider-Man who just swung out of the very same alleyway?

Sim Jaeyun is Spider-Man. And your conclusion only seems to solidify as you hear the muffled voice coming out of his masked persona.

“Oops, sorry,” and a careless swing as he tries his best to manoeuvre through the crowd, accidentally knocking over a little girl’s ice cream cone, “I'm sorry, please don’t cry.”

Yup, that’s Jaeyun. His voice now so familiar you hit yourself in the head for not realising sooner. And his utterly helpless tone as he tries to soothe the little girl — you could recognise it from a mile away.

“I’ll get you a new one, I’m sorry,” he shouts as he spins his web and shoots again, lamppost to windows to signboards before effortlessly catching up with the thief; who was now bound to the wall by web.

“Sorry,” he groans for the fourth time in a matter of minutes, “it’s my job — i mean, not that you deserve to get away no, i just-” he rambles and you giggle at his comment. Seems like Sim Jaeyun will never change, even as a superhero or as your best friend.

“I meant to say, justice has been served,” he nods, seemingly proud of his awkward catchphrase that you were sure he stole from the superhero movie you watched with him a few weeks back. “I have to get back now, someone awaits me you know - i mean, no- I’m not supposed to give details of my personal life. I’ll just- stop talking… yeah.”

And you watch again as he swings back down the street. With his identity revealed, you can’t help but look up to Jaeyun even more now — a top student and a superhero? How unfair the world is. How lucky you were to have him as your best friend.

“Hey! Aren’t you yn? Spider-Man, is that your girl?” You shrink, head down as you fix your gaze on the floor immediately, cheeks a rosy red. God, you think, this is a little embarrassing.

You feel his presence before you see his shadow morphing with yours on the floor, “hey yn,” and you look up to see the superhero, who’s panting ever so slightly, stand in front of you in his glory. “Sorry about last week, I was well busy, and I know it isn’t any-”

“It’s fine,” you stop him from blabbering, a toothy grin plastered on your face. And Jaeyun feels proud, maybe him saving someone has put Spider-Man back into your good graces, maybe he has a chance with you as Spider-Man.

“I had fun with my crush at the amusement park. Actually, thank you for the opportunity, I kissed his cheek for the first time and it felt like heaven.”

He pauses, and Jaeyun wants to rip off his mask at the very moment to kiss you. You liked him back, fuck, you actually liked him back.

“Ah,” he says after a while of tense silence, his hands rubbing the nape of his neck, “that’s amazing. So- do you… I mean- so you’re like, in love with him? Wait love might be a little uhm-”

“Yeah, I’m in love with him.”

Time stops as your eyes pierce into his, and he can swear at this moment that you knew exactly who he was. He thinks it’s over, and he can finally ask you to be his — because he’s hellbent on loving you, for the past four years he has been.

“Seems like this crush of yours needs to step up his game, or I might just steal you away,” he remarks lightheartedly, uncaring of the sea of cameras pointing towards the both of you.

“Yeah, it seems like he does. Maybe you should visit him one day, tell him that it’s about time to man up, or I’ll be the one asking for his hand.” You shoot a knowing glance at him, a confident smirk on your face.

Jaeyun chuckles, “right, I’ll be sure to tell him that, wouldn’t want him to lose such a special girl.”

“Thanks Spidey, I wonder what I’d ever do without you,” you laugh, patting his suited shoulder before he once again swings away into the narrow alleyway, only to appear minutes later donned in his usual faded ripped jeans and white shirt, hair tousled and smile wide as he runs back to you.

And he’s before you all again, this time as your best friend and you swoon as his adoring eyes and elated smile. “You okay?” You ask, hand raising to fix his hair.

“I couldn’t be better.”

v. Batman vs Spider-Man, a battle of the mans

“Spider-Man should now change his name into wing man as he is spotted once again, engaging in conversation with the very same yn from last week. Spider-Man was not only ruthlessly dumped by her, but was also asked to quote on quote visit her crush to ask him to grow a pair. Seems like she is off the market for our poor lonely superhero, who can’t seem to catch anyone except for criminals. That’s all for Spider-Man, here on The Daily News.”

“Seems like you can’t catch a break, huh Yun?” You point out as you switch the television off, “not only defamed into a wing man but also asked to grow a pair.”

And it seems like he really can’t because ever since you confronted him about being Spider-Man, his days have been filled with even more ruthless teasing, and weird questions.

“How do you even piss as Spider-Man?”

“Can I swing from building to building?”

“Can you hang upside down for ten minutes?”

“How do you think you would fare against Batman in a fight?”

But there’s one unasked question still hanging in the air. And Jaeyun really wants to address it, but it seems like you’ve lost your confidence by the way the flesh of your cheeks heats an angry red at any slight hint of him being your crush — or as Jaeyun would like to call himself; your soon to be boyfriend.

“I’ve grown a pair,” he says, shifting towards you, eyes trained on yours, “seems like someone has lost a pair.”

“Have not” you argue, lies — you could barely look at Jaeyun now without a lovesick smile on your face. Neither could you muster up the courage to ask him to be your boyfriend. “And if you ever grew a pair, you would have asked.”

“Ask what?” He teases, face moving closer to yours. He looks too good, godly almost, with his black rimmed glasses perched at the bridge of his nose.

You pout, furrowing your eyebrows as you place a light slap on the middle of his chest. And he lets out a low chuckle, the vibrant sun rays flush through the sheer day curtains of Jaeyun’s room, a natural spotlight glowing on the both of you.

“Fine,” he whispers, and you can feel his breath on your lips, it’s warm and inviting and you feel yourself leaning into him. “Will you be my girlfriend, love?”

You barely nod your head before he attaches his lips on yours. And you think you’re going to be obsessed with Sim Jaeyun — your fingers find their way through his hair and he sighs. It’s like he’s imprinted in your heart and you want to kiss him again and again and again.

Sim Jaeyun with pretty eyes, pretty lips, a pretty face, a pretty being, breaks the kiss only to kiss you again and again as you wish.

“Did I swing into your heart, love?” He smirks as you playfully roll your eyes at his antics. “Are we not going to bring up the time when you fell after showing me your web skills?”

He tackles you down and you giggle, “I can fall from the sky, I can fall from a tree, but the best way to fall is to fall in love with you.” He grins idiotically before racing out the door as you cringe at yet another bad pick up line from him.

“Sim Jaeyun, are you kidding me? I wonder how you even make up quotes like ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ with that mind of yours.”

“What mind? You mean my mind — the place where you always are?”

You groan in fake disgust as you watch your boyfriend (boyfriend!) smile proudly at his idiotic pick up lines. The both of you drinking sunlight as if it’s love — where he’s all yours and you’re all his.

uncut. confessions i can’t make ( a crumpled confession letter written by a sixteen year old sim jaeyun )

hi dear yn,

i like you. it’s been a while since you took my breath away we first met. this is my first time ever writing a confession so i don’t really know what to say write… i guess it’s like writing physics notes so maybe it wouldn’t be too hard i hope

chapter one part one : what i like about you

i like the way you smile laugh, how your eyes turn into the tiniest of crescents, it makes me proud of the jokes i crack (that physics joke was good was it not). i like the feeling i have around you — it’s warm and fuzzy, natural — talking everyday without any forceful conversation, laughs or attention.

part two : why you should like me

i think you should like me because i like you. i think you should like me because i’m smart! i can help you with physics and maths. i don’t really know what else i can give you but i’ll try my best to make you smile everyday.

will you be my girlfriend? Oh god, this is so weird i actually like you a lot and

(a bunch of scribbling)

forget it. you’ll never like me back.

dear mister sim jaeyun,

after three hours of fighting for my life, i have finally gotten my hands on the most treasured item of the year, a sixteen year old you’s crumpled confession letter to me. and since you wrote it in a physics notes style like a loser, as your girlfriend i have no choice but to follow you (so that you don’t feel lonely)

one. what i like about you

everything. i like your hair, i like your face. I like the way you say sorry to every single person in the neighbourhood while courageously saving them. i like your pick up lines on some days and how you have the guts to challenge Batman to a fight when i proclaim him as my favourite hero. i like the way you laugh and i like the way you smile. i am especially enchanted by your kicked puppy ways and easily manipulated demeanour where i can always get what i want without question.

two. why you should like me

i’m your girlfriend and you’re my girlfriend. (you are my girlfriend) you should stop staring at me with those eyes, it gives me the ick (i meant that in a ‘whatever you say pretty boy’ kind of way) you should like me because i am the person who likes you the most. (i love you so much)

will i be your girlfriend? obviously i will, i mean who can say no to you.

love you babe,

spider-man’s (your) hot sidekick

#⪩⪨ mikaela's #enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fluff #enhypen soft hours #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #sim jaeyun #enhypen jake #jake x reader #enhypen jake x reader #jake fluff #jaeyun fluff #jake imagines #enhypen jake imagines #jaeyun imagines #jaeyun x reader

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unsolvedjarin · 6 months

Text

COMPLICATED — prologue

pairing: (fernando alonso x driver!reader) (grid x platonic!reader) — mostly older!grid

summary: you and fernando were known to be the biggest rivals on and off track back in 2012. that rivalry even crossed the line to pure hatred many years ago. but how did that hatred turn you two into the loving iconic couple of f1 you are today?

note: i’ve been dying to write this for AGES. it’s the fic that’s the reason i made this blog. keep in mind however this is just the prologue, so i’m simply setting up the story for where i want it to go. after this mostly social media chapter it gets plot heavy. anyways i hope you enjoy this!!!

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liked by danielricciardo, lewishamilton, and 528,293 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial, aussiegrit, jensonbutton, sebastianvettel, lewishamilton

yourusername beach day with my boys! had so much fun pretending to know what i’m doing while surfing (do NOT trust mark when he says he’ll teach you how to surf. he’s horrible.)

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aussiegrit you falling off the board 272872 times was of your own accord, don’t blame the teacher!

jensonbutton mate you fell off your OWN board 272872 times, i think when it gets to that it’s the teacher’s fault

yourusername get his ass again for me jense

fernandoalo_oficial looking great amor! 🥰

yourusername thanks to my amazing photographer 🫶

jensonbutton what about the pictures i took?

yourusername they were definitely pictures!

fernandoalo_oficial posted a new story

—2012

This was not Fernando Alonso’s year. Losing the World Championship by 3 points was not good on his ego nor on his morale, yet here he was.

Everyone was celebrating Sebastian now for having won his 3rd World Championship– but Fernando was angry. Not at Sebastian, but at you.

You who had gotten first place.

You who was third in the Drivers Championship and had no chance to pass Fernando on the standings, yet still overtook him during the last two laps. You couldn’t even let him win.

“Good race Nando,” he heard a voice in front of him say. He paid no attention to it.

Getting no reply from him, you scoff and put down your water bottle. “I know you’re mad at me for getting first, but at least have some sportsmanship.”

That gets him to look up and take a proper look at you, post race sweat and your race suit dangling at your hips. He thinks you glow look terrible in this light. Because he was sat on some stairs, you were standing over him, hands on hips with a slightly smug look on your face.

“Don’t be a sore loser. It’s unbecoming.”

“I could have won the championship. I was three points away— three, and you could not even let me have that?” He gestures wildly. “I know you dislike me, but stealing my championship is far and beyond, L/N.”

He stands up, purposely hitting your shoulder as he walks past you.

Oh the bastard. He wanted to throw out accusations? Fine.

“Oh don’t be such a hypocrite. I stole your championship? What good would that even do me? I’m third in the standings, there was no way I was going to catch up to you,” you retort. Fernando was still facing away from you, but frozen on the spot. You knew he was listening. “I went faster because my contract with Mercedes expires this year. I’m losing my fucking seat, I need to prove to other teams I’m worth it. It’s bad enough you’re constantly fucking badmouthing my character to the press, and now you question my integrity as a driver? Honestly, Alonso, grow the fuck up. Not everything is about you.”

A silence befalls the room. Fernando doesn’t speak or do anything, and the seconds waiting for a response feels like minutes. He’s facing you at this point, speechless in his Ferrari race suit that looks fucking great on him. Too bad he’s a shitty person.

You sigh, exhausted. “Nothing?”

He shakes his head and looks down. Of course. He’s got nothing to say. Resigning, this time you’re the one to walk past him and towards the door behind him. He tries to look at everything else in the room that wasn’t you, the walls, the stairs, the tables, but that wasn’t enough to avoid your exasperated look that he could see through his peripheral vision.

He should’ve done something, anything. Stop you from walking away, tell you he’s sorry, just something. But he didn’t do anything. That was his first mistake.

One of many.

—PRESENT

MAHK WEBBAH

once again asking if we can change the group name

JENSE

it’s correct though? But while we’re on the topic of the groupchat can we change the photo

YOURNAME

its beautiful whats wrong with you

JENSE

okay then we’re not changing the group name

MAHK WEBBAH has left world champs + mark

YOURNAME

give him a few minutes he’s having a temper tantrum because skysports labelled his name as “Sebastian Vettel’s former teammate”

SEBBY

IJBOL

NANDO

??????

JENSE

??????????

YOURNAME

where the fuck did you learn that

AUTHORS NOTE: i know some of these are ooc but i had too much fun making the fake tweets 😵‍💫 this is quite a plot heavy fic from here on out, so put on your reading glasses!

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bonny-kookoo · 6 months

Text

Jungkook

𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙇𝙞𝙣𝙚 | 🔞 Main Work

He's one of the best, no race too tough to handle, every track a new challenge he takes on- especially when it's you who's waiting at the finish line for him.

Tags/Warnings: Racer!Jungkook, established relationship, romance, suggestive themes, heavy flirting, adult content, mentions of online hate, only minor angst, they're a power couple, this MC is now my spirit animal, smut

Length: ~5k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: I know nothing about actual car racing. Pls don't take it too seriously, thanks haha 💗

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"But be real here-" A fellow driver asks, sitting down at the side now to pick up a water bottle. "-I always wondered, are you like, actually a couple?" He asks, taking a sip of his water, replenishing what he's sweat out during the training session with Jungkook and the other drivers.

Jungkook sighs to himself, before he gets into a sitting position, tapping the timer on his phone to a stop. He gets these questions a lot- whether or not you're in if for the right reasons, how good your pussy must be to have him put up with your annoying attitude all the time, or how someone like him isn't hooking up with models and actresses left and right. He's not sure why it's such an outrageous thing apparently to have a stable relationship, but somehow, if he just went by what magazines and online gossip-blogs report, it's apparently absolutely unthinkable to be in a normal loving relationship in his position.

But he is. And he intends to keep it that way for as long as you'll have him.

He loves you, dearly so. Your 'bad habits' and flaws are just as endearing to him as the rest of you, mainly because you were also there when he was just starting out, bank account almost always empty at every end of the month, rent barely being paid. You stayed even when he was at his lowest, you cheered him on when he won his first major race, and you consistently keep supporting him at every event you can. And to him, you're prettier than any model he could ever come across anyways.

"We're an actual couple indeed." Jungkook affirms, locking his phone before he screws open a plastic bottle of water himself.

"But like, isn't it a bit disappointing sometimes?" Jake asks him. "Like, I heard you never go to afterparties, and if you do it's always with her. You could have anyone, man." He laughs.

"You'll get there too, maybe." Jungkook chuckles simply, when the door opens, and familiar jingles of jewelry make him smile to turn around- and there you are, meeting his eyes with a smile, as he instantly moves to stand up.

"I bought you all your favorite snacks, and there's like, one of those electrolyte drinks there too." You say after pecking his lips with your strawberry flavored lipbalm, putting the white plastic bag into his hands. "You're not overdoing it, right?" You ask, and he grins, shaking his head.

"I'm almost finished anyways. You wanna wait up here? We can go back to the hotel together then." He asks you, gently pulling your hair out of your long earrings where some of it had gotten tangled. You let him, and wait for him to lean back as a sign that he's finished, before you answer.

"If it's not too much of a bother? There's already a bunch of paparazzi outside, I think someone might've leaked your location online.." You tell him, and he grows serious at that.

"Then you'll wait. I don't want you going back to the hotel alone if they're outside." He tells you now, not giving you another option. He remembers the last time you almost got mobbed at the airport, simply because you flew out the country a day after he did- and of course it created rumors and the wildest theories as to why that might've been the case. It's what happens to him constantly due to his status as the 'hottest race driver of his generation'.

One magazine reported that you apparently have been spotted fighting by someone at a restaurant, and that that could explain why you had sunglasses on during the airport walk- because you two probably broke up, and your eyes must've been swollen from crying. In reality, you always wore shades or shielded your eyes, because you're sensitive to the camera lights and the masses of people make you anxious, so you always try and blur them out somewhat.

Another online forum speculated that you two definitely broke up, and that it was long coming, because the hate must've gotten to you finally. That there's just no way you both could've ever worked out, and that it was just pushed by your parents so you'd have the most comfortable life imaginable. Your father allegedly introduced you to Jungkook at a press conference, which made Jungkook laugh.

True, your parents know each other- but only because you're a couple, and obviously became closer over the years of dating. It didn't make sense that you both just became a couple so you'd have it easy, when he's mentioned multiple times that you both have been dating for way longer than the span of his career.

And then, that one gossip site that pushed the narrative that he cheated on you at the last afterparty. That there's images from the event where he can be seen with a woman with long dark hair that's definitely not you, and that you most likely found out and kicked him out- and just flew out to start a new life in a different country.

That one made him angry.

The woman he'd been seen with was Mingyu's mother- his best friend whom he'd helped out the burning wreck of his car after he'd crashed into the side barriers. She'd simply been there to thank him, and he'd hugged her just as a way of reassuring her that he'd always be there for any of his teammates, no matter what. And that specific website constantly stirred up cheating allegations- either at him, or you, it didn't matter. Clearly edited photos, alleged video evidence that didn't even show you both at all, it was stupid, really.

He's lucky that you don't instantly believe anything you see. Up until now, you always confronted him first if there was anything you were concerned about. And you trusted him, just as much as he trusted you.

Finishing up his workout, he takes the towel you offer with a thanks, deciding to ignore Jake's stares at your tits for now, since it doesn't appear to bother you at all. And honestly, he can understand. They do look great.

And they feel even better- but that's only for him to know.

The moment you both exit the gym they're all there- and he instantly moves you slightly behind him to properly shield you from anyone trying to reach out to you, which has happened often enough before to make him now hyperaware of it. But you somehow make it into the car waiting to take him back to the hotel without anything happening- though the questions hurled at you both from every side do annoy him to high heavens.

Jungkook are you still together?

Jungkook did you both talk things out?

Jungkook did you really cheat on her?

Jungkook-

"Jungkook." You ask him, and he moves his head to you now. "I asked you if we wanted to take a bath at the hotel? The tub is huge!" You beam at him, and at the sight of you all genuinely happy and carefree, he smiles, nodding, before he takes your hand to hold.

As long as you're still there, everything's fine.

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"Oh god-" You breath out, hand in his hair while he's gripping your thighs over his shoulders to keep them open.

Your panties are still hanging from one of your ankles, toes curled as he licks and swallows over your core, orgasm rapidly approaching you as he places a teasing kiss to your sensitive pearl. He moves around with ease, slips out of his pants rather quickly before he pushes your legs towards you once more, aligning himself with your entrance after lubing himself up shamelessly with your arousal he's gathered with his hand.

He doesn't need to rid you of any clothes- he's done that already.

You always joke that the secret to your happy relationship is back-breaking sex and good cooking- but sometimes, you actually believe it.

It's his main way of relieving stress- he's told you as much before. And he also enjoys the more romantic and sensual aspects of it, the closeness to you, and the knowledge that it's something special just between the two of you. It's always a little playful, unserious, light and relaxing, especially afterwards- the shared afterglow you both experience always something special where you both reconnect and bond once more. It's like you grow closer every time you're together like this.

Even though, according to him, that's impossible.

"Gonna.. wanna take you to the movies..!" He grits out, leaning back while while he holds your legs by the backs of your knees, thrusting his hips steadily into you. "Ah, fuck.."

"Can I- can I choose?" you giggle in pleasure, hands over your head grabbing the pillows while he watches your chest swing in the rhythm of his pace.

"Hm, I don't know.." He mumbles, leaning over you now after letting go of your legs to peck your cheek. "What do you wanna watch?" He wonders, before mouthing at your neck.

"Right now?" You hum dreamily, closing your eyes at the sensations of it all. "Wanna watch you." You say, and he chuckles against your skin, hands next to your head steadying him as he slows down a bit to a more sensual rhythm, though he presses himself deeper at the same time, making you arch your back as your legs hook together over his back.

"You're so cute." He teases, one of his hands moving to run over your chest, playfully smacking one of them once to earn a squeak from you- and laughter from him.

"Kook-!" You whine, and he mimics your tone a little, before his hand moves over your body between your legs where you're currently connected, fingers toying around with you. "Yes-!" You beg, thighs pressing together against his body, before you reach your high, muscles twitching from the feeling, while he becomes a bit more erratic now with your core clenching around his length.

He cums a little afterwards, pulling out before he spills his seed over your lower abdomen, the sight always doing something to him.

"You know, I really wanna go to that premiere that I was invited to with you." He says after taking a deep breath and running a hand through his hair, getting up after leaning over you to peck your lips twice- because once is never really enough for him.

"Heh, you know I'll always be at your side if you want me there." You sing-song, stretching your limbs while he turns on the water in the bathtub, door open to be able to hear you. "So, if you wanna take me, of course I'll be your arm-candy!" You chirp, and he smiles as he returns with some babywipes in his hands to wipe down your skin.

"I always want you at my side." He tells you gently, careful with the rather cold wipes on your skin. "And I'm glad you're still willing to put up with me and this whole thing." He shrugs, throwing the tissues away in the trashcan.

"Why wouldn't I?" You wonder up at him as he hooks his hands underneath your back and legs to carry you into the bathroom of the hotel room you're staying at, to help you into the tub.

"Why would you?" He sighs, getting into the tub as well, unscrewing the small bottle of soap offered by the hotel to pour it into the water. "I sometimes really wonder how.. strong you must be to just constantly put up with all the things said about you and me." He says, pulling you closer to him as the bubbles form with the water pouring in. "…I was really scared, you know." He mumbles onto your skin before he kisses your shoulder.

"Of what?" You ask, unsure.

"When the rumor spread of me cheating. I always.. get worried you might become doubtful of me when things like these are said." He admits to you, before you turn around in his arms, his hands immediately on your hips.

"I'm not worried though." You simply tell him, running your hands through his hair before they settle around his neck. "I trust you." You shrug, and he moves his hands up to hold your cheeks, pulling you closer to kiss you until you giggle, pushing against his pecks to get him away. "Kook no-" You laugh, but he whines.

"But I want to love my girlfriend!" He complains.

"You just did!" You argue back, and he plays with his lip rings for a second.

"But you deserve more." He purrs, trying a little more.

"And my pussy needs a break!" You respond back, making him laugh. This is why he loves you so much- why he loves your relationship so much. Living with you is easy, it's relaxing, it's light and it takes his mind off of all the worries he has.

Because when he's with you, it's like none of it matters. He can just fall into your arms and trust you to catch him every single time.

And you do. Just like right now, as you kiss him until the water cools down, and the bubbles are all gone.

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Something he's never really told you is the amount of people trying to get to you- through him of all people.

Mainly because everyone still somewhat believes the most common rumor that you're just a sugar baby kind of situation- that you're up for anyone, as long as the numbers fit your standards. It's infuriating really, makes his blood boil because what else does he have to do to make people take you both seriously? It's not even just the fact that they apparently don't take him seriously as your partner- but that they really think you'd be someone to use others for money, just because you're not the quiet sweet person in the background who they can bully around.

But he has a plan. Foolproof, really, and he's wanted to do that this year anyways.

"I need my good-luck-kiss.." He teases, keeping you close to him.

"Well if we had enough time I'd give you the whole good-luck-menu, but you gotta go get ready now." You giggle while he bites at your neck.

"Not yet.." He complains, already in his overalls, helmet on the bench close by. You're hiding behind a corner like schoolkids attempting not to get caught skipping class, and he admits that you both do this a lot. He just can't get enough, and today especially, he just wants to make sure the cameras can see his marks on you, and know that they're his. "Will you watch the race?" He asks, and you giggle.

"Of course. I always do." You promise, and he grins, before he pecks your lips one last time, finally getting ready.

You're standing in the VIP spots, watching closely how he starts the race, seemingly a bit behind. But he's pushy, he always is, competitiveness not letting him lose without a fight. And fighting he does, quickly catching up as he squeezes past several other competitors, making your pulse rise quite a bit. Truth be told, you always worry- especially after his friend's last accident that you witnessed that day. The race had been interrupted because of it, and had been decided to be re-started at a later date once Mingyu had fully recovered.

He only sustained minor injuries, cracked a rib and a minor concussion, but nothing else. But the sight of the car will stay in your head for quite a while.

You have nightmares, sometimes. Of Jungkook being in a wreck like that, flames swallowing his broken body whole, and you can't do anything to save him. That's most likely the biggest reason you're always a little on edge whenever he drives. You know he's a good driver, of course he is- but still. You can't help but worry.

Not that you'll ever tell him. He doesn't need about something stupid like that.

It's not even half an hour in, and a black flag is waved at a blue car lagging behind. There's smoke coming from the back wheels- so he's asked to leave the tracks and drive into his pit box, which he promptly does to get his vehicle inspected. It seems to be a more serious issue however- because the announcer suddenly explains that the racer named Jake Pitcher won't return to the tracks.

Time passes by, and the race goes on without much interruption. Everyone follows the rules, flags are waved left and right to navigate things happening, and your eyes occasionally lose sight of the mainly red and black hyundai Jungkook is driving, though you always find him again at the very top, leading the race. It's after the second pit stop that a driver in a sky-blue Toyota is becoming visibly more aggressive, especially towards Jungkook.

It's alright to be a bit pushy, you've learned that that's the norm- but this guy is putting other drivers in danger with just how close he's pressing himself against Jungkook's back and another's side.

But this is the sport. It's an aggressive one, and the rules about how to race are pretty grey.

Someone crashes, a yellow and green racecar you've seen earlier. The vehicle spins on the ground in donuts a few times before it comes to a stop on the grass, and the team is visibly running around to sort things out. It's announced that the driver is awake and alert, and doesn't seem injured- and the car is towed safely away, one lane closed until everything is cleared once more, caution in place for now causing everyone to slow down a little until the track is cleared again.

Jungkook had crashed before. Multiple times, even. He's cracked ribs, bruised his body, broken bones. Never anything too serious- but enough to remind you every time how dangerous his career is. You hate that side of it, and sometimes you really wish he would just call it quits- but you also understand that he's passionate about this, that this is his dream.

You'll always remember his worst crash- the way his car had flown through the air rolling around like it was nothing but a toy, front wheels almost pulled off entirely- and your fear inside your bones as it took him ages it felt like to climb out of the wreck, surprisingly unscathed, only bruised badly in some spots.

He was on a stretcher that day, a safety precaution even though he turned out mostly fine. You remember not even having the energy to scold him in hospital, crying at his side for hours it felt like until he'd managed to calm you down enough, his laugh teasing as he'd helped you wipe off your ruined makeup before going back to the hotel later to sleep- your body even clingier than ever before.

It's his fourth pit stop. Things are looking good- this time the car seems to be holding up a lot better than last time when he only made the third place, and the commenters seem to recognize that too. Jungkook is the only one bringing a car of his type on the track after all- it's basically the talk of town every time he participates. He went from being a joke to a true competitor nowadays- finally being taken seriously on the tracks, and you know Jungkook relishes in the feeling of it.

He loves to win, after all. Even if it's just the respect of others.

Suddenly, something happens in the front. The toyota pushes too hard, too far to the side, and it breaks the current leader completely into the barriers as the car loses control, dragging several cars with him- And as your eyes search for the familiar red and black car with white font written all over it, you find it.

There's a lot of smoke, several cars unable to continue, a driver exits his own on the grassy spot in the middle, throwing his helmet in frustration. Jungkook's car is scratched, badly, a slight crack in front, but he's still driving- seemingly having escaped with nothing but some minor damage. He's slowed down just like everyone else now, entire track under major caution as the damage to a lot of other car's is being inspected, several people now left out with their cars damaged too hard to compete any longer.

Jungkook seems just a bit out of breath from the shock from what you can see on the screens, now in the pit box where tape is placed over a break in the front over the scratches, car being refueled and inspected just to make sure. He gives a thumbs up when asked if he's alright- a nod given to other questions. According to a commenter, he's asking for any serious injuries in other drivers- but there are none, so he's reassured that everyone's alright and up walking around.

Caution is lifted, green flag waved. The fight is back on, speed increasing as they once more go back full force, pushing and mixing up the order in which they're making their way towards the finish line.

It's the last stretch now, and things are getting clearly heated on the tracks. From clear pushing to forceful passing, scratches and bumps can probably be found on every car after this race is done. There's a fight happening now, and Jungkook is not backing down from anyone- now doubling down, and pressing himself towards the front. He's not as impolite as some other drivers further back, but he still bites, clearly so- currently passing another car, the white flag waved as he presses himself against his competitor.

One round left.

You can practically feel the tension now, pulse racing just as quickly as his car drives as he pushes himself further and further up front. He's in second place. That's most likely the spot he'll make.

Or?

It's almost in the last second it seems like when he manages to outrun the Chevrolet he's been pushing against next to- the black and white checkered flag waved, Jungkook's name being called as everyone cheers.

He made it. His team cheers- but you're frozen in time.

Because this is also a win for you, every singe time. Your prize is the fact that he's unscathed, that he's okay, that nothing happened. Fireworks light up the sky, when suddenly, he turns the car, covers the track in white smoke from his wheels, a full on spin one of his by now signature winning gestures.

His team runs towards him, pulls down the window gate to congratulate him as he climbs out, pulling his gloves off before he takes off his helmet and climbs on the roof of his car, clearly excited over the win. The interview is easy, as he answers questions thanks his team, before he becomes nervous, visibly, shaking his hands a little. "You still seem rather emotional from the race!" The interviewer jokes, and Jungkook nods, before he runs a hand over his face, bracing himself it seems like.

"Yeah that too, but uh- I made myself a little challenge too, you know?" He laughs. "I promised myself if I won this race, I'd.. do something I've been chickening out of for quite a while now." He explains, and you become a bit nervous now, unsure what he's trying to say. You're making your way down now to where his team is too, now closer and in sight as Jungkook grins to himself.. almost shy?

A member of his crew gives him something, and you become suspicious when he walks towards you now, because that stupid grin he has on his face just spells trouble in bold capital letters.

"You put up with so much shit, you know?" Jungkook tells you over the sound of people cheering and the commentator telling the crowd what's happening- everyone now curious. "You really do- and I don't think there's anyone out here in this world that can really love me like you do." He offers, and you laugh to yourself. "Don't laugh! I'm serious!" He complains, making some crewmembers laugh. "Either way, I might've won the race, but do you know what prize I'd really like instead?" He wonders, before he moves to drop to one knee.

"You, as my wife." He tells you, slightly dirty black box containing a ring.

And suddenly, the world seems to quiet down entirely as you nod, watching in fascination as he puts the ring on your finger in front of thousands.

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"Jungkook you're speeding!" You whine as he laughs in the driver's seat, sunglasses shielding his eyes from the weather.

"Babe I'm actually way below the limit, what're you talking about?" He chuckles, always a little amused by the irony of your fear of him driving- him, a professional racecar driver. "It's an RV, not a racecar. Relax a bit." He says, taking your hand to kiss the back of it before he continues to hold it.

He's taking some time off- spending a vacation in europe with you, having rented an RV for some quality camping that he's always wanted to do with you. Now that his relationship status had been officially upgraded so to speak, rumors have died down- the thrill seemingly left now that he's made it more than clear that he's taking it seriously with you, even though he always has.

"Still, can't you drive a bit slower?" You worry, and he shakes his head.

"No can do darling. But we only have half an hour to go anyways, so we're almost there." He tells you.

"Half an hour can feel like a lifetime though.." You pout quietly, and at that, he runs his thumb over the back of your hand.

"Were you scared when they all crashed?" He asks, and you nod.

"I searched for your car right away. You can't believe how I felt when I saw you come through that cloud of smoke and car-parts almost unharmed." You whine. "I hate that I'm always so scared. I don't want you to feel bad when you drive-" You worry, and he laughs.

"You're not making me feel bad, don't worry." He shakes his head. "I can understand how hard that must be to watch though. Just like I said, I'll never understand how you put up with me and my shit." He offers, and you shrug.

"I don't know either." You huff. "You constantly bully me." You complain.

"I don't bully you!" Jungkook argues scandalized.

"You constantly make fun of my height, and you laugh when I'm scared, and you slap my ass in front of everyone no matter who!" You say, and he shrugs.

"It's a nice ass, what can I say?" He defends himself, making you glare at him. "Hey come on, you can't possibly blame me, you slap my ass too!" He argues back to you.

"That's cause you deserve it!" You respond.

"And you don't?" He wonders.

"Absolutely not. I'm an angel!" You state, and he laughs theatrically.

"You might get down on your knees regularly but you're not a saint-" He jokes, making you roll your eyes. "-see? And a brat too.!" He teases.

"Yeah well if you're not nice to me I won't suck your dick for the entire trip." You threaten. "Not even once." You state, making him pout playfully.

"Not even the tip?"

"Won't even touch your balls." You respond, and he whines.

"Oh no! Anything but that!" He complains, finally driving towards the entrance of the camping spot. "What do I have to do to gain back the sacred touch of my soon-to-be-wife?" He asks, having parked the RV now, and taken off his glasses.

"..you can start by giving her a nice kiss." You tell him. "But a good one. With feelings and all- the whole menu." You demand, and at that he leans over the middle, careful not to touch anything and cause an accident, pulling you closer by your neck.

"Well-" He smiles warmly at you. "-that's easy."

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"So how have you always dealt with all the hate and rumors about you both? That must've been pressuring!" A paparazzi asks you as you stand right next to your by now husband, who's just made the second place in his latest race.

"Oh, I just look at him naked to remind myself why it's all worth it in the end!" You beam happily at them, Jungkook laughing loudly next to him.

Yeah- you're really one of a kind.

And he doesn't mind spending the rest of his life with you.

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic

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liyawritesss · 9 months

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ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 1.9k

Synopsis: Miles tells his Uncle Aaron the real reason why he’ll always answer his phone for you.

Warnings: Cursing, no usage of [y/n] or second person perspective, brief mention of potential gun usage, old school gang terms (Aaron refers to a gun as a 'pole') I envisioned a late teen 42!Miles so he’s around 17-18 here, but still keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!

A/N: I know I said that the previous fic would more than likely be my only attempt at 42!Miles but the ugly ass nigga is growing on me so…here yall go i guess

Song Suggestions: “So Into You” (Remix) by Sydney Renae; “LORD FORGIVE ME” by Tobe Nwigwe ft. Fat Nwigwe & Pharrell; “Run Tha Streetz” by Tupac, Storm, Mutah, Michel’le

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed @pnkweb

It went without saying that if it didn’t pertain to family or business, Aaron wasn’t quite fond of the use of phones.

He had a real old school view on them; didn’t like how kids these days were always stuck nose deep into the devices. Of course, he came from a generation where a phone’s only use was to contact another person. He never got into the hype of the latest iPhones, nor did he understand the need for five different cameras attached to the device. The only benefit he saw with the rectangular device was that it made communication more prompt and precise (though he’d never admit that he appreciated being able to play any games he wanted, at his disposal, at any time he wished).

So, naturally, when Miles became old enough to engage in his ‘business’, the one rule Aaron posed that didn’t pertain to the ‘game’ was that him being on his phone was an absolute no-go.

“I ain’t got time for you to be distracted by that thing,” he’d said the very first night Aaron trusted the younger to bring him along, “if you gon’ be in, I need you to be all the way in. No half-assin’ this shit, you hear?”

And of course, Miles agreed, no matter how insufferable the first few weeks of patrol were when Aaron literally locked his cellular device in a safe back at the workshop. While it served to pry the connection the fifteen year old had with the device at the time, it was also his way of teaching Miles to not rely on the device for communication, prompting Miles to fortify new avenues of such. Aaron had a genius nephew, after all, and expected nothing less from the person who would soon take up his mantle as The Prowler.

Though, Aaron started to notice a shift in the practice behavior a few months ago, and it made him wonder had his teachings begun to fall short, even after a few years of the settled routine.

He’d notice the flexing of the younger’s arm whenever the faint buzz from the vibration of Miles’ phone sounded, no doubt squeezing the device in his pocket with his hand.

Aaron also was not ignorant to Miles’ dipping off to the side to answer a quick call in hushed tones, and the words used to address the other person on the line made it clear to the older man that it wasn’t Rio calling him, and it piqued Aaron’s curiosity even more.

Though, Aaron could never say anything, since Miles was sure to put his phone on do not disturb before heading out into the night, and the calls always remained under a minute or two, not taking too much time away from their very serious business. He found himself frustrated because Aaron couldn’t be mad at him for being responsible for his phone usage, despite his own feelings towards the usage of such devices. Yet, it irked him all the same when Miles would take a peek at his phone during a moment of down time, or when he’d caught the boy staring at his messages a couple of times during a debriefing session.

“Aye, c’mon man,” Aaron finally grumbles out one night, sucking his teeth at the sight of Miles tapping away on the brightly lit screen close to his face, illuminating his melanated features, “I need you outta that shit, we got work to do.”

“A’ight, a’ight,” says the younger as he finishes off a text, pocketing his phone and brushing past Aaron briskly, “just had to answer my girl real quick. I’m off it.”

“You better be,” Aaron scolds, “we need you at a’hunnid tonight, Miles. No excuses.”

Though Aaron wasn’t about to let Miles’ admission slip under the radar, the current task at hand was much more pressing than the revelation that his nephew was seeing someone. He’d have to play the father figure role after tonight's mission was complete.

It’s when the deepest shade of midnight blue begins to fade into faint purple hues that Aaron is able to bring up the conversation once again. He tries to make it light, but over the years, his smooth talk has become just as rustic as his Prowler skills. “I’m gon’ have to bring the safe out again if I keep seein’ that phone, Miles.”

The echo of the younger sucking his teeth in annoyance doesn’t fly past Aaron’s head. It’s the response he expected from his nephew. He turns around from his work desk to face the younger, leaning against one of the many concrete pillars that keep the building intact.

“I’m serious, boy,” Aaron asserts, “you been on that phone a lil’ too much lately, man. I’on like it.”

Miles scratches the side of his face; he knows he doesn’t have much of a good excuse to use as to why his eyes have been more on his phone as of late. Well, not an excuse Aaron would find plausible anyway.

“A’ight, Unc. I’ll chill.”

It’s not the exact response that Aaron expects, but if Miles says that he’ll watch his phone activity, the older believes him. The younger has no reason to lie to him, anyway.

A beat passes before Aaron starts again, crossing to the middle of the room where the large, red punching bag.

“So, is she a good distraction,” he muses with a knowing look, “or do I gotta be worried that she gon’ take your head out the game?”

The younger pauses for a second, braids dancing along his shoulder. Then, a lopsided grin spreads across his lips as his head tilts to the side, his eyes wandering. Aaron knows that kind of look. It’s the look of a boy high on love, and from the way Miles fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck, Aaron can deduct that it’s that good loving, too. The kind of loving that Rio gave Jefferson, and it stole the late brother’s heart. It warms his heart to see his nephew sport a look that someone his age should.

“She’s good.” Miles says. “She’s…real good, Tio. Too good, probably.”

Aaron hums in response, the sound coming from the depths of his throat as he pauses, taking in a breath. “Do she know?”

It’s a hard question to ask; Aaron doesn’t want to blow his nephew’s high, but it’s a necessary one to ask. For the safety of all parties involved.

Miles’ smile falters in the slightest, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his eyes cast downward.

“She know I do shit on the low. Not…all this, though.” And from the tone in Miles’ voice, he, too, knows that it’s better this way.

The older begins to walk towards the stairs to exit the workshop building, gesturing to Miles to follow, “Good.”

Aaron thinks back to when he first remembers the diversion of behavior started. Although it wasn’t and never became aggressive, it started with Miles casually peeking at his phone every now and then, maybe once or twice throughout the whole night the two were set together. He puts two and two together, his head nodding to the conclusion he’d drawn.

“So it’s her you be textin’?” Aaron asks, descending the stairs.

The younger nods, following in tow, “Just lettin’ her know that I’ma be out and can’t answer the phone, shit like that.”

“And when she do call?”

A light, dry chuckle escapes Miles’ lips at the question. “She just be askin’ me shit.”

“Shit like what?” Aaron muses, twisting the knob to the door leading outside, opening it to reveal purple hues slowly fading into peach in the sky. “What color nails for her to get? Password to the Netflix?”

They get to the car, but the silence that takes place during the short time it takes to approach the older’s vehicle answers his own question before Miles does.

“Yeah, actually,” the younger voice, arms folding atop the car roof, leaning against the sleek black metal as he looks at his uncle, “and the color for her peek-a-boo braids; and if it’s okay if she eats my leftover takeout; and if I can hang up her wall art thingy when I come by-”

“-so what you’re saying is, she’s clingy?” The older’s eyebrows furrow in amusement and slight confusion - the way Miles speaks about the isolated experiences has him questioning what kind of girl his nephew was actually dating.

“You know what’s crazy, though, Tio?” The younger poses, pulling the handle to the passenger car door when he hears the click, signifying Aaron unlocking the vehicle finally. “She’s not clingy like that; it’s somethin’ else.”

“You’re losin’ me, kid.” The older chuckles, closing his door once he’s settled inside the driver's seat.

Miles sucks his teeth, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in thought, and Aaron can tell that the younger is trying to find the right words to distinguish what he means.

“I hear guys say that shit like that is annoying,” Miles begins, tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it down from riding up his toned stomach, “but it ain’t like that to me. She asks me all these things; think maybe it’s because she feels safe enough to ask them of me. And if she feel like I got the answers for her, then-”

The younger stops mid-sentence, contemplating how to proceed with his explanation. Yet, Aaron is all ears, listening intently. Quite frankly, it’s the most he’s heard Miles talk about anything in a long time - his rambling reminds him of the old Miles that once was, before the unfortunate.

Then, the younger takes a deep breath, reclines back into his seat, legs spread in the slightest for comfortability, his hands running the length of his thighs, “Ionno, Unc. Makes me feel good, I guess.”

And in that moment, Aaron’s vision blurs for a second. He can’t tell if it’s Miles sitting in the passenger seat, or if it’s his late brother. Perhaps it's the glare of the sun in his eyes…perhaps it’s Aaron actually seeing the soul of Jefferson shine through his son in the early morning sunlight that dances across his melanated skin.

A hum passes through the older’s throat as he starts the car up, the sound of the engine revving through the silence that settled within the car. Aaron clears his throat before speaking again, “I’ma tell you what I told your pops about your moms, kid.”

Miles turns his head from the window to face his uncle, who shifts the car from parked to drive, hand sitting at the top of the steering wheel.

“If she make you feel good, the kinda good you know you can’t get anywhere else, and if she make you feel like a man; you keep her close.” Aaron hums. His lips tug upwards when the younger gives a subtle nod in return.

“I’m serious now, Miles. Don’t be like yo’ daddy.” Aaron reiterates as he pulls his foot off the brakes, turning the steering wheel and pressing down on the gas to drive out of the parking lot. “Dumbass almost lost ya moms cuz he ain’t wanna listen-”

“A’ight, a’ight, I got you,” the younger replies, “I’on think she goin’ anywhere no way, though.”

“Good.” Aaron affirms. “If she know of the kinda game you in, then she need to know how to work somethin’, too. Make sure she can hold you down properly.”

“I’on know about that, Unc,” Miles replies, “she too much of a good girl for that.”

“Shit, good girls work the best poles, boy. Don’t get the game twisted.”

“Unc, no one says ‘poles’ in reference to guns anymore.” The younger says through a chuckle as the two drive off down the street, the purples in the sky now fading into a pretty golden hue that casts over the city that never sleeps.

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giannaln4 · 2 months

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Away For Valentine's

lando norris x fem reader

summary: McLaren had the fantastic idea to launch their car on Valentine's day, and as much as you reassured Lando he didn't have to worry about it, he still wanted to make it up to you (1k words)

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: heyy everyone! so this is the very first fic i'm posting so please let me know what you think! i'm honestly pretty excited to get started with this blog so hopefully you guys like what i write. anyway please send some ideas my way!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Valentine’s Day was off the table this year, and so was everything you had planned for you and your boyfriend.

You were disappointed when he shared the news with you, but you couldn’t be mad at him, not when it wasn’t his fault.

He saw the disappointment in your face, and how much you were trying to hide it by just smiling and nodding, your head finding a spot on his shoulder to avoid eye contact. He appreciated you understanding the situation, like you always did, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel guilty.

“I know we had plans-”

“Lan, don’t worry about it” You took a deep breath before looking at him again, trying to get rid of the sadness in your face “I mean it, we can do that some other time”

He was about to say something but a quick kiss on the lips stopped him. You proceeded to look at him, offering him a small smile and a glance that he knew meant ‘I don’t wanna talk about it’, so just nodded as he smiled back.

A few weeks go by and his winter break was coming to an end, meaning soon he’d have to leave the comfort of your shared home and go get started with his preseason duties. That’s something you were used to, having to see him leave for long periods of times but it barely ever affected your relationship. He always made sure he made enough time for you, even when the time difference was huge and he was feeling tired most of the time, he needed to make time for you. Your love for each other was so strong that, at the end of the day, you were just relieved you still had each other even if all you had was a five minute call every day.

But still, sometimes it was hard to see him go, and this time was one of those times.

The night you knew would be your last one with him before he left he decided to take you out on a date. Fancy clothes and an even fancier restaurant were your plans for the evening, and you knew he was trying to make up for Valentine's Day. It wasn’t the same, of course it wasn’t, but you still enjoyed every second of it.

The food, the small talk, the jokes, the stupid stories, the shy glances, the small touches, everything was perfect, almost making you forget he was getting on a plane in a matter of hours, but your smile slowly faded as soon as you remembered.

The ride back home was quieter than he would’ve liked, but he knew exactly what was going through your mind, and honestly he couldn’t blame you cause his mind was flooded with the same thoughts.

As soon as you got home he ran around the car and opened the door for you, offering his hand and kissing yours as soon as he took it. You smiled softly at him and you made your way to the door. Once you were inside, you dropped his hand to take off your shoes and tossed them somewhere close to the door, sighing in relief as you started walking towards your room.

“Mhm, come back here” He whispered as he grabbed your hand and pulled you back into him

“There you are” Lando smiled softly at you as his lips found yours. After a moment he broke the kiss, and both of his hands found a better spot on your waist as he started to move along the off-tune song he started to hum. You couldn’t contain your smile, quickly trying to keep up with him. You moved together in a slow dance, it was like your bodies were in perfect harmony.

Lando was looking down at you in pure admiration, almost as if he was trying to memorize every centimeter of your face so he wouldn't forget it while he was away, but you didn’t dare to look up, scared you would make eye contact with Lando and you wouldn’t be able to take it, so you safe option was to rest your head on his chest and pray you didn’t mess up. Although it wouldn’t matter if you did, you were just in the comfort of your living room anyway. But you didn’t wanna mess up.

He eventually stopped humming, hoping the silence would encourage you to look at him, but when you didn’t he moved one of his hands to cup your check, making you look at him. For a moment your eyes lock, making the silence feel very loud and Lando couldn’t help but smile at you, and you immediately blushed, but tried to play it off.

“You’re a terrible dancer” He laughed and you narrowed your eyes playfully and softly hit his shoulder.

“You’re one to talk” You joked, locking your fingers behind his neck and giggling when Lando scoffed.

“Maybe we should go out to dance and I could show you all of my moves” He started to move again, bringing you closer to him.

“I thought you didn’t like slow dancing”

“I do if I get to hold you this close to me” He replied, once again finding your lips.

This time the kiss was longer, both of them savoring each other’s lips while they still had the chance “I’m sorry about Valentine’s” He whispered once he pulled away, your forehead resting on his.

You giggled at this. You had assured him a million times he didn’t have to worry about that, and he still apologized every time he remembered “You need to stop apologizing”

“But I am sorry”

“I know, but it’s not your fault” You hand fell on his hair, slowly stroking his soft curls “And I had a great time tonight, so I’d say love is not dead”

He laughed at his, dimples appearing as his eyes vanish for a moment “I still wanna make it up to you”

“You will” You replied as your head fell back on his chest “But for now I just wanna enjoy this” You closed your eyes and inhaled his scent, and after a moment of complete silence you can feel him start moving again, his soft hums interrupting the peace his heartbeat was giving you.

#giannaln4 writes #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris one shot #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader

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rinhaler · 7 months

Text

NOTSCAREDNOTSCAREDNOTSCARED!

✧˖*°࿐ : 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ ⁭frat boy!oliver aiku x f!reader

Genre: college!au (mostly shameless smut tbh) Notes: first fic on my new blog and it's absolutely disgusting, enjoy. Warnings: 18+, noncon, somnophilia, drugging, virgin killer!oliver, implied virgin reader, tit sucking, pussy eating, biting, fingering, marking, love bites ♡, creampie, spit, alcohol consumption, lmk if I missed any!! Words: 5.3k

What a naïve little thing you are.

That’s the first thing Oliver thinks when he sets his sights on you. A shy, sweet girl wearing the one and only cocktail dress you probably own. It’s so simple but makes a loud statement. You don’t look like the other girls here. You aren’t wearing designer clothes that fit you like a glove, no. The ill-fitting garment you’ve chosen to wear speaks volumes to your innocent nature and your lack of confidence. You don’t have friends, do you? You’re here, alone, in the sleaziest and most prolific fraternity on campus. Of course, it’s a party, and anyone is welcome to attend. But the fact that you decided to come here, alone, makes him think you might be a little stupid.

But that suits him just fine.

He doesn’t approach immediately, for fear of giving the game away too soon. He bides his time and observes your behaviours and mannerisms as you wade through the crowds. His eyes have followed your longing gaze a few times and noticed how you keep looking towards the kitchen. It’s the busiest room in the house right now, he assumes. That’s where the keg and all of the alcohol is.

But almost as soon as you look that way, you avert your eyes and look elsewhere in search of a place to belong. You’ve tried starting a few conversations with the girls, but Oliver knows how catty and mean they can be. Poor thing, fresh meat like you doesn’t stand a chance.

You’re lonely, aren’t you? You’ll feel better with a little company, yeah?

He carefully walks by you in a way that will cause you to spill the drink from your grasp. And with that, this sinful game can begin. The one in which he tells you how sorry he is for causing an accident and ruining your dress. He’s so apologetic that you just can’t help but forgive him right away. And his attractiveness doesn’t go amiss. The kindest person you’ve met thus far just so happens to be so deliciously handsome.

“Let me get you a refill, it’s only fair.” he winks. And you hate yourself because your stomach flits at the casual gesture. It’s probably a line that he uses on all of the girls he meets at parties like this. It’s plain to see that he’s confident. You’re sure there won’t be a shortage of girls throwing themselves at him after a gesture like that.

But you aren’t stupid enough to be the same.

He seems older, by at least two years. He seems comfortable enough here to get you a drink so maybe this is his party. He could have a girlfriend for all you know that is in another room and completely oblivious. You don’t want to make waves before you even experience your first day of class.

People seem friendlier towards you when they notice you with him. Is it genuine? Or could they be laughing at you? His hand resides in the small of your back as he guides you far into the kitchen; until you’re standing between an island counter and the fridge. Your body is warming, and, fuck, he can feel it. You’re so shy. He hasn’t seen a girl like you in a long time. The slightest bit of attention and touching and you’re putty in his hand. What a good girl you are, he’s going to have so much fun with you.

You watch him, carefully, as he rummages through the fridge and grabs a can of beer.

You’re a little deflated as he cracks it for himself and begins to chug.

“I didn’t catch your name.” he states as his unmistakable eyes watch you intently. He has eyes you’ve never seen before, and you’ll have a hard time forgetting. Mismatched purple and green. They’re dull, but not uninteresting by any means. They’re the eyes of a man who always gets what he wants. Those eyes beautiful eyes… they’re bored because they are a prestigious, all access key to gain whatever his heart desires. You hum, hesitating for a moment until you decide you’re too awkward and uncomfortable to hide your name from him. “Oh, that’s a real pretty name. I’m Oliver.” he introduces himself.

“Hey… Oliver.” you smile, unsure of how to respond. You’re so on edge. His peculiar eyes are examining each and every movement you make like you’re being graded. And your heart is pounding… you can’t help yourself. Nobody here has extended so much as a pitying smile. You want to pass his test, he’s the only person being remotely nice to you. But still, there’s a gnawing feeling eating away and corroding your insides and it makes you feel like a criminal, like you’re doing something wrong.

Like you absolutely should not be talking to him right now.

“You’re pretty too.” he smiles, brazenly. His voice is so deep and charming, a sonorous lull as he knows all he needs to do is utter these three simple words to get a girl like you to be completely and utterly captivated. It’s such a pathetic, insipid sentence and you can’t stand that it’s working on you.

You get a full view of his wide, toothy grin and you sense that he’s trying to extend a gesture of trust to you. And you’re encapsulated by it. Pristine pearls almost blinding you and short circuiting your brain as you arrive at the realisation that he might be perfect. His features nothing short of perfection and accentuate his beguiling persona that you can’t get enough of. You haven’t even noticed the way your chest is heaving as you devour a mind-altering cocktail with him as the main ingredient.

And he can’t help but chuckle when he notices how flustered you’ve become from his words, you adorable thing. Three little words are making you squeeze your thighs together and fold your arms over your chest. And don’t think he hasn’t noticed the quickened breaths you’re taking and the dampening forehead you’re suddenly trying to wipe away. He’s noticing everything about you and making mental notes in his mind he will use later.

Do you know how vulnerable you’re being?

You should know better than to be so visibly rattled by him. He may be handsome but he’s hardly screaming upstanding citizen at you. It’s the facial hair. It’s so grotesque and sleazy and wholly unpleasant. And still, the only thought swirling around your tiny, tipsy mind is how it would feel against your skin as you kiss. How would the scruff feel between your inner thighs as he devoured your petalled flesh. You shouldn’t be thinking like this, you aren’t sure what’s wrong with you.

You don’t know how to act, do you?

“Don’t be so nervous, sweetheart.” he tells you, getting closer. The smell of his cologne invading your senses. It’s familiar, it smells expensive and suits him just fine. The type of fragrance you’d save for a special occasion to make an impact and impress people you’re around. Your nostrils flare as you inhale more. More of it. More of him. You need more.

He angles his head as he monitors your response to his proximity. He grins when he notes that you aren’t sure where to put your hands. Moving them a few times before you decide to grip the overhang of the counter behind you until the skin covering your knuckles are taut, turning white. You want to feel his chest, don’t you? It’s so broad and muscular and peaking under his shirt, he doesn’t blame you. You probably haven’t had much experience with a guy like him.

He's more than happy to show you.

You’re starting to think your heart is packing up its belongings and preparing to flee from your own chest as you feel it beating rapidly against your ribs. He’s so intoxicating, you feel lightheaded and overwhelmed by the mere presence of him. His body is trapping yours against the counter. He’s so damn tall, taller than you could have possibly imagined now that he’s pressed against you like this. Your cheeks fill with heat, and you think you might actually faint against him if he doesn’t move away. “There are bad guys at places like this, y’know? Dangerous place to be so pretty.” he warns you, whispering gently in your ear. The tone rushing through your veins and forcing you to shiver. His eyes meet yours after he speaks, his stare willing you to understand what he’s saying.

“T-Thank you…” you mumble.

“Hey, don’t worry so much. I’m the house president, I’ll keep an eye on you.” he assures you, moving away ever so slightly while keeping a lingering hand on your shoulder. A commanding touch to make your body and your mind focus on him. His hand is cold to the touch and you realise it’s from holding the metal can, cold from the refrigerator. The cooling caress of his fingers is polar opposite to the warm smile he’s offering you. You aren’t sure what to do or say, but you need not worry about yourself anymore. He had intended on doing all of your thinking for you tonight, anyway. “Oh, shit, you wanted a drink, right? Let me get one for you.” he speaks, his body moving to act before you can even answer.

“U-Um…” you hesitate, seeing him grab a bottle of rum and a mixer. You hate spirits because they always get you embarrassingly wasted. There are four prominent occasions in the forefront of your mind as you reminisce on the states you’ve found yourself in after drinking spirits. The smell alone is enough to make you gag, but you do all you can to ignore it. You don’t want to make a fool of yourself, you don’t want to do something humiliating that will be talked about for years to come.

You aren’t a prude; you aren’t opposed to getting drunk. You just don’t think it’s a good way to introduce yourself.

He’s moving so fast, and his back is to you as he pours your drink, the red solo cup obscured from your vision as he fills it to the brim for you.

You dumb little thing.

Isn’t this something you’ve been warned about? Not letting your drinks out of your sight at any point, ever. Of course you have, it’s rule number one of going to parties or nightclubs or anywhere that your drink can be tampered with.

You just aren’t thinking straight.

And why would you?

You’re so out of place in this big, intimidating environment. You’re hardly going to suspect the first person to show you a bit of kindness is actually the shadiest guy at the party. But deep down, you know you should consider everyone a suspect after hearing what he had to say. If the guys here are so shady, why does he stick with them? If he’s the president, why doesn’t he tell them to do better?

These few fleeting thoughts have been nothing but. Passing ideas that you thought of and discarded as quickly as they arrived. You can’t live your life in fear or you’ll never make any friends here. And he’s going to all of this trouble for you. You’re nobody to him, and he’s still finding it in his heart to extend a benevolent demeanour to you and making sure you have a drink and a friendly face to keep you company for the night.

So you aren’t going to think twice that he’s slipped something in your drink, you can’t see what he’s doing, but for some reason, you trust him. Would you trust him, still, if he wasn’t so good looking? Would you trust him less if he hadn’t announced he is the fraternity president? He knows you’d never have trusted receiving a drink from him if he just offered it to you out of nowhere.

He’s happy he didn’t have to work too hard, you aren’t completely stupid, but you’re still dumb enough to accept a drink from him like this. You barely even think about it as he flashes you a beaming smile and hands it to you. Hell, it might even loosen you up. You knock half of it back in three seconds and you giggle after the fact.

He’s laughing too.

But it’s at your expense, you poor, sweet thing. You’re going to be seeing so many stars tonight, a sight reserved for Oliver’s favourite angels.

“You’re crazy, huh? You like to party a lot, baby?” he wonders, taking another swig of his drink as he rests against the fridge beside him.

“No, never! This is my first big party.” you confess, and he doesn’t miss the way you slightly cringe at yourself for saying something you must think is a little embarrassing. “I mean, I’ve been to parties… this one is just—”

“You’ll get used to it.” he tells you. “The first one is always memorable, though.”

“Really? How come?” you ask, curiously.

God you’re so cute, it’s killing him. Even he can’t hide the smirk forming on his face as he tries to conceal it with his beer. He decides to not answer. Instead, he admires the way you look disappointed at the prospect of him losing interest in you. He thinks he could bathe in the watery sheen glossing over your eyes as you worry that you’ve said something so stupid that he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.

He's such a disgustingly vile man. All he can think to do is refuse to put you out of your misery. Instead, he revels in the way you knock back the rest of your drink. The way your eyes widen paints a perfect picture in telling him it was too strong for you. Stronger than anything you’ve ever drank in your life. And that’s without the added ingredient he decided to slip in.

“I— do you have a girlfriend?” your question is abrupt as you wipe the excess liquid from your plump lips. Your watery eyes watching him keenly as you do your best to decipher his intentions.

“No.”

You scoff and shake your head. “I don’t even know why I asked you that, as if you’d tell the truth.” you mumble to yourself, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. And just as you’re about to walk away, he responds.

“I don’t care if you know whether I have a girlfriend or not. I would only care if I was trying to fuck you.” the sentence rolls off his tongue with ease. Like he knew exactly what you were going to say before you even thought of it. And you feel a wave of humiliation crash throughout your body; you feel a current trying to drag you under and suffocate you under the foaming sea.

“Y-You aren’t?” you need to stop talking. You need to stop embarrassing yourself like this. For his benefit. For the other people in the kitchen with you. It feels like everyone is staring at you and laughing at your expense. Maybe you’re just drunk and being paranoid. You should go, you should sprint out of here with whatever small scraps of dignity you have left.

He shakes his head, his hand reaching out to yours to pull you closer to him. It trails, up your side and to your chin as your eyes fixate on his. His thumb smooths over your chin, encouraging you to open your mouth for him. He tilts his can of beer onto your lower lip. The golden, yeasty liquid spills from the metal container and onto your tongue. Your eyes don’t leave his as all you can do is stand there and take it. Your little throat expanding with each glug of the disgustingly bitter drink.

Your body is once again pressed against the counter. He snickers when he feels your body jolt against his as you hear the sound of the beer can he was holding clattering against the tiled floor. And he takes great delight in the way your body melts against his touch as he places a hand on your hip. The other, smoothing the shell of your ear before he levels his mouth with it.

“I don’t need to try, I’m going to fuck you.” he whispers, he kisses against your ear a few times and the sound rushes straight to your clit. You squeeze your thighs together again hoping to alleviate the brewing tension. You pray you were discreet enough for him to not notice.

You weren’t.

And it’s worse as he kisses your neck so openly in front of everyone. He sucks and sucks and sucks until his name is signed in blue and purple blooms against your skin. You bite your lip, internally cursing him for forcing you to have to wear a scarf for the coming weeks until it fades away.

“S-Stop it.” your legs buckle and there is something wrong with your eyes. The room won’t stop spinning. You didn’t drink that much, did you?

“Woah!” Oliver exclaims as you fall into his hold. “You don’t know how to handle your drink, hm? I think you need to sleep it off.”

“T-Tax—”

“No, no. I’d be a terrible host if I made you get a taxi all by yourself. C’mon.” he lifts you with ease, your entire body limp in his arms. And he just can’t believe how lucky he is. How blessed he is to be born so genetically gifted. Because he knows there is no way in hell he’d be getting away with this if he wasn’t attractive. Girls looking at him like he’s some kind of hero coming to your rescue. Him, a hero. It would almost be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.

There’s no way you’re forgetting your first frat party.

He’ll make sure of that.

As he passes a few of his brothers on the stairs, they all share a knowing look. Like this isn’t the first time Oliver has been in this predicament. And it surely won’t be the last. He winks at them as he walks by, and he puts you down as he reaches his door, your body dropping like a stone as he lets you fall with no care.

You can do nothing but groan as he drags you by your underarms and into his room. God you want to go home. Not to your student accommodation. Home. You want to be with your parents and under your own roof, sleeping in your own bed. It’s hard to even tell where you are. Are you still in the kitchen? No, there’s no way.

All you can think about is how tired you are.

Suddenly, you’re in the air, being flung onto a nearby bed. You feel like your body doesn’t belong to you. You’re no longer in control and you can’t move your limbs how you want to. You want to use your legs and walk right on out of here and into a taxi.

But you’re lucky, really.

Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It’s all his. His to do whatever he wants with. You can’t move, and yet Oliver is going to be kind enough to move you however he likes. Maybe you don’t feel so lucky about it. But you’re just confused right now. Oliver knows you wanted this. Wanted him. The pill in your drink was just a little insurance policy to make sure everyone got what they want.

He prefers girls like this anyway.

Nice ‘n pliant.

“Said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he smiles, lecherous hands feeling each and every inch of your body. A curious hand reaching up to touch the fat flesh of one of your tits as he massages it over your tiny little dress. “Think you can wear something like this and expect me not to fuck you?” he whispers.

“Mmmpf…” you hum, there’s still a little defiance in you. At this point, he wouldn’t mind if you were on the cusp of sleep. There’s something so special to him about extracting salacious moans from unconscious bodies.

“’m just getting you out of this little thing… gonna find a comfy t-shirt for you to wear to sleep.” he assures you. He wonders if you believe him. He almost believes himself. But as he pulls down the strapless bust of your dress and your supple flesh is revealed to him, the thought of covering it again dies an instant death in his mind. “Fuuuuuck, gorgeous fuckin’ tits.” he moans, his bulge straining against his jeans as envisions himself sucking them until they’re puckered and raw.

He climbs over you, your tiny frame beneath his domineering one. He’s sure you hadn’t neglected to notice how muscular he is before you passed out, even beneath his clothes. He must be some kind of athlete. He’s too beefy not to be. And boy, does he use his weight and size to his advantage when he’s dealing with delicate things like you.

His head practically falls from his shoulder as he decides to let his fantasy come to life. He licks and laves over your tits individually until he gets a little rougher. Softly nibbling the tender buds until they are aching and so sore. His teeth bruise your flesh as he marks them. An assortment of canines and molars as well as decorative love bites.

Any chance you had of forgetting this party are gone.

You’ll know what happened to you.

You might even remember who did it.

But there’s no way a sweet, timid freshman like you is going to have the courage to tell such an unbelievable tale. You might think there are steps in place to protect innocent things like you. You’re a victim, after all. You need protecting. But once again, that would just be so telling as to how naïve you truly are. Drugging pretty girls at college parties is never going to end. The staff, the students, even the police are never going to side with you.

And why would they? These false statements issued by the board, talks of ‘standing with victims’ and offering a listening ear are nothing but lip service. The institution you have found yourself in will say anything to seem like a worthwhile choice. The right and most beneficial choice to you and your future.

But the harrowing truth is that they don’t have time to protect girls like you when they are too busy covering up the messes of men like him.

He pushes your dress up to your midsection, exposing a pair of white lace panties.

“Awe, for me? You knew you were gonna get lucky tonight, didn’t you?” he asks. But of course, you’re unresponsive. His finger prods at the thin material, an involuntary laugh leaving his lungs as he is greeted with the feeling of your soaked underwear on the pad of his digit. “Too dumb t’speak right now… good job your cunt is telling me how much you want me.”

His thumb circles your clit over the material. And even he’s a little dumbfounded at the way your body betrays you. You squirm and your brows furrow as you try to stave off the pleasurable feeling. But for all he knows, you could be trying to fight him off.

He doesn’t care, though, your pussy already gave your true feelings away.

Even he can’t ignore the way his cock is leaking at the sight of your tight heat becoming exposed as he peels away your panties. A slick string connecting your sex to the material.

You must be a virgin, he thinks. Virgins get wet so easily. He suspected it from the moment he saw you. You’re so awkward and uncomfortable around people, but especially guys. You fumble over your words, and you can’t flirt to save your fucking life. But he didn’t care. The thought of your first time being with him was enough to make him want you. And even if you have fucked before. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need to know. The very thought is enough.

He pins your knees to your chest, and he begins to feast on your dripping cunt. You shudder as your body feels the tension building with each suckle and slurp against your clit. It’s unrelenting, he can’t get enough of you. He’s fucking addicted to the taste of your slick and he doesn’t know how he’s gone so long without it. Your left leg ragdolls as he lets go, opting to slip a finger into your unprepared hole without stopping his assault on your swollen clit.

And without hesitation, he’s adding another. He takes his time scissoring you open, and by now he’s convinced you’re a virgin. You’re so fucking tight. There’s no way you’ve had a dick inside of you. Or if you have, it must have been small.

You won’t have to worry about that with him.

Even unconscious, he’s sure you’ll feel how he’s gonna stretch you.

Your lazy groans are like a cheer to him. Your body is telling him what a great job he’s doing. How close you are. How badly you want to cum in his mouth and douse his thick, calloused fingers in your syrupy sheen.

The tip of his tongue lashes over the throbbing button at the apex of your thighs. He doesn’t particularly care if you take him well or not. You’re going to take him regardless. But he isn’t so heartless he won’t try and make it a little less painful for you. He’s urging you to cum for him, his free hand pressing down on your abdomen in a bid to enhance your pleasure. With each whip of his tongue against your clit and every press of your spongy insides with his fingers, he’s trying to drag you over the edge.

Your lifeless body surprises him once more.

He pulls away and observes the way your pussy pulses and your walls tighten around his fingers as you begin to cum for him. Your spent little cunt drooling around his thick digits and coating them in your slick. You even moaned for him. Not loudly, of course. A few tell-tale grunts to let him know you were happy with his work.

His eyes ogle your tits once again, admiring the way your chest rises and falls as he sucks his fingers clean. You’re so fucking cute. You must be heaven sent, the way you stepped into the frat may as well have been a gift with a garish bow from Santa Claus himself.

He unbuckles his belt with one hand whilst squeezing and pinching your nipples once again. They’re so pretty, the prettiest pair of tits he’s ever seen. He’s rock hard in his jeans, leaking like crazy and desperate to be buried to the hilt in your sweet little snatch.

And his heavy cock springs free, the tip leaving evidence of just how desperate he is on his v-neck shirt. Pearly pre shimmering against the black material that is soon to dry and harden and meld with the cotton fibres. But he can’t find it in himself to care. He pulls it over his head and throws it into the corner of his room, he’ll deal with it another time. There’s something much more entertaining lying atop his sheets right now.

“Mmm… think this is gonna hurt sweetheart. But you’re gonna be good ‘n take it f’me, yeah?” he lines himself up with your entrance and gives your still body one final look before breaching your insides with his thick cockhead. “Fuckin’ hell you’re tight. You’re so fucking tight, might cum just from this.” he speaks.

He knows you can’t understand him, but he can’t stop himself from communicating with you anyway. He needs you to know how special you are. That out of all of the girls at the party, he chose you. Don’t you feel special? He’s sure you will when you’re stuffed full of his cum. It’ll all dawn on you tomorrow and you’ll feel so honoured that the one and only Oliver Aiku fucked you open and covered you in so many pretty patterns and was even kind enough to pump you full of his cum.

You have no idea how much restraint he’s showing by not instantly splitting you open on his thick, heavy cock. He can’t help but feel that slowly plunging into your virgin walls is a better display of claiming your body. It’s almost torture for him, easing in inch at a time at an agonising pace.

And when he’s fully sheathed inside your suffocating walls, the pleasure is almost too much, he could shed a tear at the feeling. But, of course, he won’t. He’s prioritising the task at hand.

He holds under your knee and pushes it further into your chest and begins to slowly roll his hips. It’s hypnotising, the way even out of consciousness your eyes can still roll back into your skull. He takes note of how he’s moving when your eyelids begin to flutter.

“Oh baby… right there? Like it when I fuck you there?” he wonders, experimenting with his movement and speeding up ever so slightly. His cockhead is nudging your g-spot so perfectly. It’s so deliciously soft, and those saccharine expressions you’re donning are about to drag him to an early demise.

His grip on your thigh is harsh. Another galaxy of purple bruises forming under his fingers on your doughy skin. He hasn’t noticed. It’s second nature to him to be a little rougher than intended. But it’s part of the fun, right? More little discoveries for you to find in days to come.

He’s entranced by the way his cock vanishes inside of your cute cunt. He’s being swallowed whole by your sticky lips. The sound reverberates throughout the room. The suctioning sounds of you pulling him inside and the tackiness of your pussy and his cock meeting again and again and again.

Your eyes squint as he yanks down your jaw until he sees your tongue. He’s so abhorrent and even at this point he knows this to be the truth himself. He just can’t fucking help it. He wants to do anything and everything to you. He wants to humiliate you because you’re just that special to him. With a cartoonish ‘ptuh’ sound, a glob of spit has landed on your tongue and is slowly sliding down your throat.

With a few more presses of his tip against your sweet spot, you’re spasming around him again. Maybe you liked it after all. You wouldn’t cum if you didn’t. Do you like being taken advantage of by reprehensible scum like Oliver Aiku? Do you like being unconscious while getting your insides pummelled? This might warp your tiny little mind. Maybe you’ll think this is love and this is what you’re meant for. It is, as far as Oliver is concerned. He doesn’t let up humping into your tiny hole. He spits in your mouth again, and it’s the final straw to pull him into his oncoming bliss right along with you.

“Little slut,” he pants, his hips faltering as he feels himself reaching the precipice. “Mine. My little slut. My fuckin’ cunt. H-Hear me? Mine.” he practically growls as he shoots load after load into your unprotected womb. “Ah— fuck. Fuuuuuck—” he finishes, fucking his viscous seed back into you.

He pulls out immediately after, admiring the way his sperm drips and squelches out of your spent cunt. You’re clenching around nothing, poor thing. You must miss him.

But you don’t have to worry. You won’t have to miss him for long. You’re not done, after all. He just needs some time to recharge. He wasn’t just going to fuck you once and be done with you. Not a perfect little pussy like that, no. Those drugs will be in your system for a few hours.

He’s far from done with you yet.

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