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📖"Temporary Custody"
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky
Word Count: 4861
Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange
Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.
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Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.
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Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost
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10. S'mores
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It’s the “sex play” (God, that term is so cringe) thing being on the table that builds the tension in the apartment, all of them knowing about it but none of them talking about it. Mary sure as shit doesn’t have the guts to break that ice, and now Bucky’s always deep in thought and quiet around her. And Steve, well.
Steve is like a big, mopey golden retriever who knows its humans are upset but doesn’t know how to help besides headbutting things affectionately.
Mary’s feelings for him only grow when she realizes that he really hasn’t told Bucky about that night in the kitchen: the things she’d confided about the razor and her nightmares and sneaking out to the gym. Knowing that Steve’s stuck by his word like that makes her like him and trust him a whole heck of a lot more. 
But it doesn’t solve the underlying problem. 
There’s a court hearing in front of a judge next month to revisit the custody arrangement—Next month. And one afternoon while Bucky’s out of the apartment, Steve gently informs Mary that Dr. Linda is recommending the order be extended. Jesus fucking Christ. 
And then the results to that test Linda made her take, the “Submissive Sexual Interests and Tendencies Assessment”, arrive in the mail (addressed to Bucky, because of course they would be), and Mary gets her hands on them after Bucky and Steve read them, and she’s mortified at what it says about her.
Tendencies: Passive aggression (reactive aggression in lieu of submission), emotional outbursts, low self-esteem, impulsive sexual promiscuity, self-harm, alcohol use disorder, possible co-morbidity (OCD, EDNOS, BDD). Dynamic Preferences: single dominant authority figure, structured domestic routine, service, discipline, monogamous relationship, emotional bonding. Recommendations: Following assessment review, patient is most likely to benefit from continued domestic control in a consistent (24/7) environment. Transfer of custody not recommended. Continued therapy sessions and educational courses at CDP highly recommended. Most beneficial therapeutic modalities include limited corporal discipline, sex play, and reward-based service routine.
There’s a ton of infuriating psycho babble bullshit packed into those results that she could get upset about, and she does, but Mary’s eyes track over that one, most-horrible phrase over and over again: 
“Transfer of custody not recommended.”
Fuck.
She loses sleep over it, sneaks out of the apartment in the middle of the night and does cardio at the gym until she’s exhausted enough to head back home and pass out. It pisses her off that this is such a thing now. She doesn’t want to be special needs, she should have the right to choose whether she even wants treatment or not! She resents the hell out of Bucky and Steve for having custody of her the way that they do. They’re clearly expecting her to blow up or something, after the news from Linda and the SSITA results come in. It’s so obvious that they’re walking on eggshells around her, Mary halfway wishes they’d just do something. One way or the other, it’d be better than this.
Linda claims that they’ve expressed “positive feelings” about a sexual dynamic, but if they have, they sure aren’t expressing it to Mary. She suspects that most of that positivity has come from Steve, and probably only because he’s a golden retriever in human form who just wants to do what’s right and good, not because he or Bucky are particularly attracted to her.
While she has managed to clean herself up quite a bit since moving in with them, Mary isn’t delusional: she realizes that Steve and Bucky are very attractive men, whereas she’s just average. She tries to tell herself she’s fine with that. She knows Bucky and Steve could probably get like, a supermodel to sleep with them if they really wanted to. Mary’s not in their league, and that’s okay. 
But if they’re not attracted to her that way then they should at least have the decency to just say so! At least then she could find someone else, get back on Tinder, or even sign up for one of those ProDoms that the CDP has. Darcy said Thor was good, so maybe Mary could request him? The way that Darcy had described the guy, he sounds like he's a hunka hunka burning Nordic god. Mary could go for that.
She brings it up casually over dinner, framing it lightheartedly, and Bucky literally crushes his water glass in his prosthetic hand. “What?” he snaps, frowning down at the mess he’s just made. “No.”
Mary huffs and goes to fetch the desserts while Steve gets the waste bin and begins scraping the broken pieces of glass into it like it’s just another Tuesday. “I don’t see why not,” Mary complains from over at the counter. She’s pulled the plates out from the fridge and grabs the butane torch for the meringue.
“Jesus,” Bucky exclaims when he sees the industrial sized torch she's wielding. “Where’d you get that?”
Mary purses her lips as she focuses on achieving the perfect amount of toastedness. “Hardware store,” she mutters. “So why can’t I go see one of the ProDom’s again?” She purposefully over-torches Bucky’s meringue, because she can tell that this isn’t going to go her way. “Sounds like a win-win. You don’t have to deal with me, I can meet new people, and insurance pays for it. What exactly is the problem?” She’s trying to force him to admit that he doesn’t want to Dom her sexually, trying to get him to see that something’s gotta give and he’ll have to let her use one of the ProDoms eventually if that’s what the severity of her “condition” requires (gigantic ‘Ew’). 
But frustratingly, he refuses to engage with her on the topic. “It’s a no, Mare,” he tells her sternly. “Pros are for people who have more experience. You don’t.”
Mary seriously doubts that. “Linda didn’t say that,” she argues, carrying the plates over to the table and handing the nice one to Steve and the burnt one to Bucky. 
He pulls it closer to himself and raises an eyebrow at it. “Linda’s being diplomatic,” he mutters. “I thought you said you were making s’mores?” 
Yesterday, Bucky had been talking with Steve about how much they both missed their old camping trips they used to take. The two of them must’ve waxed poetic over campfire s’mores for ten whole minutes. So Mary thought this would be an excellent way to butter them up. Apparently not.
She sniffs and picks up her fork. “They are s’mores. It’s a plated dessert, Bucky. An interpretation. It’s not literal.”
He grunts and peers at his portion, poking it dubiously with his fork. “What’s it made of?”
Mary heaves a sigh and snottily recites: “Honey Sablé, 70% Valrhona cremeux, cold-smoked Italian meringue, torched ‘mallow, Graham crumb streusel, and tempered chocolate stick for garnish." Both Bucky and Steve stop poking at their plates and just stare at her for a second. 
“Sounds good,” Steve chirps, and digs into his.
Mary stares Bucky down, until he too, deigns to eat the apparently too fancy for him version of a  s’more. “Oh, damn,” he says after the first bite, looking taken-aback. “I can taste the smoke.”
Mary preens, then asks again about the ProDom. “Well if I’m not getting it there then who the heck’s supposed to fuck me?” she winds up blurting out of frustration.
When that direct reference doesn’t elicit any response from Bucky besides a barrage of bossy instructions for after-dinner cleanup, Mary loses a bit of the hope she’d been holding onto that maybe Linda was right about them being attracted to her. She just gave him the perfect fucking opening, and he didn’t take it. She gets the kitchen cleaned up from dinner, resigning herself to another evening of platonic domination that doesn’t quite hit the spot. 
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Nightly drops are nice. Not as nice as they were in the beginning, the effects having waned quite a bit from what they once were, but still better than no drops at all. 
Mary sits on her pillow on the floor, head on the couch cushion next to Bucky’s thigh, listening vaguely to the sound of the television while she enjoys the feeling of his fingers carding through her hair, lightly massaging her scalp. It’s been a while now, and she doesn’t think she’s going to get any deeper. It’s late, already they’ve watched two full episodes of their show, and Mary’s got work tomorrow. It’ll be bedtime soon. 
A big yawn works its way up in her throat, and Bucky chuckles when it finally breaks free. “Tired?” he asks.
“Mmhm.” She inhales deeply and sits up, sleepy and squinting. It takes a moment before her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room and Bucky’s form sitting right in front of her. Wow, she’d been really close to him, hadn’t realized just how close. Had she been … hugging his shin? God, she hopes not. Not like she hasn’t spent whole evenings fantasizing about rubbing her face all over his thighs and his— Nope. Not gonna think about that when he’s sitting right there. She tears her eyes away and forces that train of thought to stop right in its metaphorical tracks. 
“You good, Hon?” Bucky asks, his soft voice drawing her attention back from her own head. She looks up and sees his fond expression, his relaxed posture. Wonders if he’s in Domspace at all. Probably not.
Then her eyes land on the line of his cock at the front of his pants. 
He’s hard. Not very, but some. Underneath his sweats his dick is chubbed up enough that it creates a slight bulge against the fabric. Mary freezes, staring for too long before she’s able to tear her eyes away. When she does, and she looks up, Bucky’s watching her with an inscrutable expression. Her breath catches and her mind goes absolutely dumb.
Does he want ..? Should she ..?
She looks back down at it, at the relaxed splay of his thighs. She wets her lips and thinks about reaching forward and sliding her hand over it, what it would feel like, if it would twitch, if Bucky would shiver or make a sound. She wants to touch it, and seriously considers doing so, but when she looks up at Bucky again, he doesn’t look like he’s excited, or anticipating her touching him. He looks … resigned. 
“Tired?” he asks kindly. "Do you maybe ... Do you need anything else tonight? From me?"
Mary's lips part, heart leaping at what that might mean ... but then Bucky looks over at Steve with visible yearning in his eyes, and the two of them share one of their silent conversations, brows pinched and expectant. 
Oh. Right. Bucky’s just horny and eager to get Steve into bed, wants to wrap this up. Mary wonders if he really can’t tell that she's not far down like she used to get. Maybe he thinks this is all she needs and he really isn’t going to take Linda’s advice seriously. Mary should be happy about that. After all, it’s what she wanted. Isn’t it?
She balls up the hand that she’d been imagining touching Bucky with and nods. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I’m tired. Think I’m gonna … go get ready for bed.”
She glances over at Steve, but he looks mopey and eager to get out of the room just like his husband does, cementing the notion in Mary’s mind that they don’t want to be with her that way. No doubt they will if push comes to shove, because Linda’s told them Mary needs a sexual dynamic, but it’s not something they’re excited about. Mary knows men: They’re not the sort to sit around and wait for a girl they like to make the first move. And certainly not a man like Bucky, of all people. 
She tries not to be hurt by it, but still gets a little weepy while brushing her teeth, the unintended rejection stinging more when she’s down in the tingly, vulnerable throes of subspace. She spits, rinses, flosses, rinses. Grabs the mouthwash that she hates to use but that Bucky has ordered her to always use after brushing her teeth at night. 
She says goodnight to Steve and Bucky through the safety of her closed bedroom door, and despite her voice being warbly, neither one of them knocks on the door to see what’s up. That drives the point home, and Mary tucks herself into bed with the mindset that she’ll let them know they don’t have to sleep with her just to be nice or to help her or whatever. She’ll just find a way to convince them that she really is fine with going to one of the ProDoms, and that it really is a better arrangement.
Better than a pity fuck, at least.
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It’s disappointing to know that Mary prefers the ProDom, that she doesn’t want to make their relationship sexual, but Bucky gets it, and he knows that he shouldn’t be surprised. He’s not exactly an easy person to get along with, after all. He’s prickly as fuck, grumpy, bossy, selfish. And aside from her natural submission, Mary’s personality clashes with his horribly. Steve is essential, but he just isn’t enough to successfully buffer between the two of them—not enough to make her want them that way, at least. 
Bucky can see the profound disappointment in Steve’s eyes that night, as Mary doesn’t react the way they were both hoping, doesn’t take the offerings Bucky puts out.
They have to let it be her choice, of course, having planned it out and discussed it between just the two of them. It's all anybody ever talks about in the D/s community these days: making sure subs are the initiators at key moments like this, not letting domination creep in and become manipulation-so easy to do with how naturally vulnerable and people pleasing submissives are. Gone are the days when Doms like Bucky were encouraged to guide new partners in the "right" direction. That leads to too much trauma, too many subs in situations they don't really want. Mary has to be left to make the choice on her own, it's her right.
But it's still the hardest fucking thing for him to do, to just sit there and wait passively. And it still stings when she looks straight at his erection and declares that she’s ready for bed. Well, if it wasn’t clear before.
Steve looks like a friggin’ kicked puppy, as he stands outside of Mary’s closed bedroom door and bids her goodnight. Bucky nudges him in the direction of their own room and murmurs, “Come on, Sweetheart.” 
In their bedroom, they each get undressed. Steve continues to mope, so Bucky goes up to him and places a hand on his shoulder and rubs. “Hey. Don’t sulk. You’ve still got me.” Steve’s mouth twitches in a small smile and Bucky’s heart flares with fondness for him. “You wanna play a game?” he offers, leaning in and kissing him once on the lips. “Mm?” He looks down pointedly to both of their boners that haven’t completely lagged since tv time ended.
“Okay.” 
Bucky hums and turns, putting his left shoulder out. “Lend a guy a hand?” Steve obliges. He removes the prosthetic arm with practiced motions. Bucky moans quietly at how good it feels to get the heavy weight off. “Fuck.” He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck each way with a blissed out groan. “Yes.”
“You’ve been wearing it more than usual, lately,” Steve points out, going over to set it on the table at Bucky’s side of the bed. “Why?”
He already knows: Bucky can tell from the way he asks it. He grunts and looks away, refraining from answering. He normally only wears the arm to work and to the gym, skipping it around the house or when he’s just got simple errands to run. There’s a surprising amount he can do just fine without the use of two arms, and he’s been confident about being seen in public without it for a long time now, thanks to Steve and their friends at the V.A. Being self conscious about it again after all these years isn’t something Bucky wants to admit out loud or think about, but Steve isn’t stupid. He can put two and two together. 
“Babe,” he says softly, walking back over to stand behind him. He wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist and noses into his neck. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Bucky inhales deeply. “I know. I’m not.” Steve makes a sound that clearly says he doesn’t believe that. But Bucky doesn’t want to talk about it, so he reaches back with the only arm he has to grab playfully at the side of Steve’s ass. “Go in the bathroom. Get the water going how I like.”
Steve groans and thunks his forehead against the back of Bucky’s neck. “Not that game,” he complains, though there’s no conviction to it. He slinks off towards the bathroom to go do as he’s been told. “I hate that game.”
“Fuck you. You love that game.” 
Steve shoots him the finger from over his shoulder, but something about his naked body and tight little ass being on display strips the gesture of its animosity. He disappears into the bathroom and Bucky walks over to their bedroom dresser to grab a hair tie, still snickering. He sobers when he takes one from the valet tray and realizes that he’ll have to have Steve tie his hair back. That’s one thing he never could figure out how to do one handed. He stands there and looks in the mirror above the dresser, studying the left side of his body in a way that he rarely does anymore. 
He’s gotten so used to it: his life with Steve, whom he knows down to his bones accepts him unconditionally. He’s almost forgotten what it feels like to be self conscious about his body. Bucky hasn’t known how to talk about it, and Mary hasn’t asked. She’s seen him with his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, or in tee shirts at the gym, but that’s all so far. Sometimes he’ll catch her looking, but he’s got no clue what she’s thinking. He considers his reflection, looks at the scars and puckered skin, the implanted base of the arm where his stump used to be. He doesn’t like the uncomfortability of being critical of his body again. In a way, he almost resents Mary for it, for making that feeling come back after all these years. Silly, he knows. 
“Babe?” Steve’s voice calls out from the bathroom. Bucky’s ears register the sound of rushing water. “You coming?” 
Bucky inhales deeply and decides it doesn’t matter anyway. Mary wants a ProDom, not them, so he doesn’t have to stress over what she thinks about any part of his body, let alone the one part he doesn’t have.
“Yeah.” He turns his back to the judgmental mirror and heads towards his very non-judgmental best guy.
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“Okay. Stop clenching.”
Steve exhales shakily, but he does obey, body slumping back against the end of the tub as he relaxes his muscles. “Fuck,” he breathes, overwhelmed.
“Hand too, Baby.”
His hand abandons his dick in the bathwater. “Ungh.”
Bucky smiles lazily and rubs the side of his foot against Steve’s hip in praise. “Good boy.”
They’re in the bathtub together, opposite ends, legs tangled. Their combined bulk displaces the water all the way up to above their shoulders, but that’s part of the game: they’re not allowed to splash on the floor, so they can’t jerk off very hard or fast. First one to splash water on the floor is the automatic loser and has to bottom the next time they fuck (Bucky added that little caveat because he’s very good at not splashing, whereas Steve is hopelessly clumsy and overeager ). “How you doing, Sweetheart?” he asks, drinking in the sight of Steve with his lips parted, chest heaving, squirming. He’s pink from temple to tits, flushed from the bathwater and arousal both, and Bucky loves it. “You’re not close already, are you?” he tuts, grinning. “So sensitive.”
“Buck,” Steve croaks, heated eyes dragging over Bucky’s body at the other end of the tub where he’s still gently jerking himself off. “Please.”
Bucky affords himself another toe-curlingly good swipe over the head of his dick before he nods. “Okay. Slow. Just like me”
Steve huffs and wraps his hand back around himself, stroking his dick in slow, measured strokes, just like Bucky said. Bucky’s guts warm and another heady rush of dominance swirls low in his belly at watching Steve do exactly as he says. “You can start workin’ it again, too,” he says.
Steve moans gratefully. “Thank you. Fuck.” His abs start clenching, his body straining again with visible tension as he works the Aneros that’s seated up inside him. Under the water, his knees move in and out in that instinctive motion as he tries to rock it just right. But it’s hard to do it with the water so high, and more than once he catches himself and holds back at the sight of the bathwater sloshing precariously close to the lip of the tub. At one point he gasps and his eyes slam shut, and Bucky figures the toy must’ve shifted to press even more directly against his prostate. 
“Ooh, does that feel good, Stevie?”
Steve peeks his eyes open, glaring across the way at him. “You know it does.”
Bucky does, in fact, know exactly how good it feels—because he’s got another of the exact same toy inside of himself, right now. “I don’t know why you still agree to play this game,” he taunts, grunting from the effort of holding back his own moan as his prostate gets a firm prod from the head of the toy. “You—nngh—you always wind up losing.”
“Yeah, well …” Steve’s throat bobs as he swallows heavily. “Maybe I don’t mind you coming out on top, sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” Bucky scoffs, but he’s breathing heavier than he was thirty minutes ago, his composure slipping the longer he works the toy inside himself and jerks himself off agonizingly slowly underneath the water. In fact, he’s not even sure it even counts as jerking off at this slow a pace.
Edging is something he’d introduced Steve to early on in their relationship, as soon as he’d realized how delightfully sensitive his new boyfriend was. And Steve, the big idiot, had worried Bucky wouldn’t like it, had actually thought of it as a negative! An absurd notion that Bucky promptly disabused him of. Watching his ungodly sexy blond behemoth of a husband whine and squirm and struggle to hold himself in check is one of the fucking hottest things Bucky’s ever seen—and he’s seen a lot. He’d been a bit of a manwhore back in his heyday, racking up the bodies as he fought to find himself as a Dom and accept the body an IUD had left him with.
Steve, his overly-sensitive, glorious hunk of a then-boyfriend, had helped him to do both. And it’s times like this where Bucky remembers just how goddamn lucky he is. Having Steve to love and fuck around with feels like the best gift in the world. 
At the other end of the tub, the water sloshes as something he’s done to himself makes Steve’s breath hitch in another helpless moan. He tosses his head back for a moment, eyes clamped shut as his expression crumples beautifully and he whimpers. Bucky’s ass clenches down hard in arousal at the sight, which only makes the toy in his ass rub over his prostate that much better. His cock throbs as his pleasure flares dangerously high. Fuck, he wants to come. 
Licking his lips, he decides it's time to end this. His balls are pulled up too close to his body, taut and full and aching for release. Trying to school his breathing into something resembling nonchalance is a lost cause, and his face feels almost as flushed as Steve’s looks right now. Bucky decides to call it, because even though he’s the automatic favorite to win this game every time, he is capable of losing, if he gets too caught up in ogling Steve’s body and reactions and doesn’t focus enough on playing his cards right. “Okay,” he finally says, smirking when Steve’s head jerks back to attention, his irises visibly flaring in excitement. “Yeah, Baby. It’s time.”
“Fuck.”
“You ready for the home stretch?” He waggles his eyebrows and lets his head rest back against the tub, spreading his legs wider and keeping his eyes on Steve. “Gotta keep up,” he instructs, even though Steve already knows how this goes. When Bucky tightens his hand and speeds up the pace of how fast he’s jerking himself off, Steve copies him. That’s how it is at the end of this—totally-rigged-in-Bucky’s-favor—game. They both jerk off at the pace that Bucky sets, and the first one to splash water on the floor or come is the loser. It’s not very fair, but Bucky never claimed he was a fair guy. He is, in fact, selfish as fuck. 
Lucky for him, Steve’s into that.
“Fuck,” Steve pants from his end of the tub. He slides down lower, keeping more of his body under the water in an attempt to prevent splashing. It’s a futile effort, though, because he’s doomed to lose anyway with the faster pace that Bucky’s set. Already, he’s going lobster red in the face, brow pinched and desperate, knees knocking the sides of the tub as he compulsively works the toy in his ass. 
The arousal in Bucky’s gut coils tighter at the sight. “Watch my hand,” he warns, when he notices Steve slacking off. “Gotta match it, Baby.”
“I am.”
“Tighter,” he says, eyes gleaming. “And stop avoiding the head. I can see you cheatin’ over there, Punk.”
Steve whimpers, and Bucky knows that he really wasn’t going as tight as he is, because Steve’s hand changes its hold and he starts getting the head of his dick with the same intensity that Bucky is. Bucky grins open mouthed, panting. “Atta boy.”
“You should—ugn.” Steve grimaces. “Should get a penalty, for being cut. I should get an extra, nnnh, th-thirty seconds, at least.”
Bucky laughs, because trust Steve to think of a sportsman’s solution to the inequity of their dicks. Steve being uncut means that it takes less intense stimulation for him to come. They both know this, Bucky loves this, and again: he never claimed the game was fair. “No penalty,” he grunts, speeding up his pace even further. Steve’s eyes widen but he matches it. Bucky grits his teeth. He can hold out long enough. Steve’ll blow in seconds at this pace. 
And sure enough, it’s not even twenty seconds later when Steve is crying out, body tensing and muscles straining gorgeously as he seizes up and starts to come. “Agh!” His knees fling out hard and hit the sides of the tub, splashing water over the lip to the floor below. But he hasn’t even noticed, he’s so lost to his orgasm. His asshole is twitching, sucking on the Aneros as the contractions of his body pull the toy up against his prostate again and again, drawing the pleasure out. He shoves down hard in the water and shouts louder, as though he’s getting a second orgasm on top of the first. “Ohnfuck …” 
Bucky groans as he watches it happen: Steve’s gorgeous face and juddering hips, big hand wringing up hard underneath the head the whole way through. The fucking sounds he makes, Jesus wept. It’s leagues better than any porn Bucky’s ever seen. “Fuck, Baby,” he praises. “Yes. Fuck that’s so hot …” 
Steve’s hand keeps working the whole way through, only abandoning his cock once it’s fully spent and softening, the cloudy ribbons of his cum floating away in the bathwater. “Fuck,” he exhales hugely once it’s done, letting his body go lax and slump so far down that only his face is above the waterline.
Bucky grunts and spreads his legs wider, not heeding the splashing rule now that he’s already won. The water splashes precariously as he shoves his hips down and down and down, squeezing the shape of the toy inside so fucking perfectly. Fuck, it feels fucking good working over his spot like that. “Oghnnn,” he pants, grunting and groaning and jerking his cock hard. “Fuck, Baby. You’re so fucking pretty. Fuck. M’gonna cum …” 
Steve gives a sated hum from his end of the tub. Bucky can sense him shifting in the water, and then gasps when he feels the ball of Steve’s foot gently press up on his balls. His eyes fly open and he looks down. “Oh, shit,” he whispers. “Fuck, fuck.”
Steve grins and rubs his foot against him. And Bucky doesn’t have that fetish, but there’s something so fucking perverse about seeing Steve’s toes up against his balls that it turns his brain to mush anyway and pushes him right on over into orgasm. He shoots off beneath the water, stroking and thrusting and moaning—and probably splashing water all over the floor just as badly as Steve ever has.
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This has been a fill for:
@marvel-smash-bingo
card: sarah-writes-stucky
Square B5: Sex toys
@sebastianstanbingo
Card: @sarahowritesostucky
Square I4: Orgasm Denial
@ultimatechrisbingo
Card: @sarahowritesostucky
Square I5: Edging Kink
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pls know i’ve been spacing all day bc i’m thinking about chiyo and hyouka’s n.aruto verses
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chrollohearttags · 4 months
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the baby trapper | armin artlert
armin wants to make sure you don’t ever leave him. Even if he has to resort to desperate measures
content + themes: porn w/ a little plot, toxic armin making his triumphant return, baby trapping (new to writing this so forgive me if it doesn’t sound right), slight yandere vibes (?) missionary, rough sex, daddy kink, breeding (dk what it is with this man and breeding 😫), unprotected sex, he’s so terrible but he’s so sexy
wc: 1.7K
📝: trying to get my steam back a little and I also couldn’t stop thinking about @levisbaldheadedwh0re and his five baby mamas 😭😭 I’d like to think this is how his ass got them.
── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚.─── ── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :── ・ 。゚☆: *.
you’d told yourself no..you’d said it time and again that you were done. That this would be the very last time you’d see him..that he didn’t deserve you. All of which were false except the latter. Because somewhere in the back of your consciousness, you knew…you knew it’d always be this way. A tumultuous, repetitive cycle of breaking up and making up even harder. Telling him you hated his guts only got him to be in yours hours later; saying how sorry he was and you’d always forgive him without pause. But this time, he couldn’t be certain…the risk of you actually following through on your promise was far too great. You made it abundantly clear that if he didn’t get his shit together, you were breaking up with him. And to take things a step further, you were moving out of this city and leaving his ass behind entirely. The prospect of you moving onto bigger and better things..new job that paid amicably, an apartment on a nicer side of town than where you currently were and of course, a better man. You had every intention of doing so too. That was until…
“Keep fucking me!…just like that. Right there..”
“Right there, baby? That’s your spot, ain’t it?..squeezing me so fucking tight—“
until you made the rather ignorant choice to make one last visit to the toxic, selfish man known as Armin Artlert. Giving your final plea of sorts; hoping that he’d beg your forgiveness and vow to be a better boyfriend. Because although he wasn’t the best fit for you in the slightest, there was still some semblance of love there. A part of you cared so deeply and didn’t want to let him go. But the truth was, that was pure, unadulterated lust! The connection you felt for him was nothing more than an attachment to his sex..the way he fucked you was incomprobable. Hadn’t met a man who could make you feel the way he did physically. Despite causing you pain in every other area..regardless, you looked past it once he got you out of your clothes and on his mattress, practically breaking the bed frame trying to put you through it.
“Arminnn!….oh my gosh..”
coiling both your wrists and ankles into his grasp, he’d keep you in place, pounding into that core with consistent strokes. Each one going deeper and deeper..drumming out loud whimpers and arousal all the same. A sheath of your juices were leaking onto the sheets, along with staining his cock. He didn’t care..he desired more. Almost as if he were addicted to it. You were already overstimulated; afraid that you couldn’t take another orgasm. All of this came only after he had eaten your pussy to the point of tears. Yet, here he was..determined to get more than his fill. Those blonde locks plastered to his forehead due to the pouring sweat trickling down his body. He always got this way when he was inside of you. The only time he’d give you his all; completely devoted to ensuring that you received the ultimate pleasures. Trembling and shaking, (y/n) gazed into those icy colored eyes, each of which were teeming with lust for you as he finally faltered his speed a little. Those arms..each toned and laced with detailed tattoos stood at your side like that of pillars. “Yes, baby? Something on your mind?”
at the moment, it was completely blank. Your brain dumbed and fucked out by his unrelenting resolve. Not to prove he would treat you right but to ensure that you didn’t go elsewhere. That even if you decided to get in that car tomorrow, drive miles away and never look back, he’d be forever imprinted in your memory..
“I-I can’t..no more, baby. Please…oh my gosh.”
however, that wasn’t the only way that Armin was planning to leave his mark on you. Because little did you know, he had devised a plan to ensure that the two of you would be bound for a lifetime. Whether you wanted to do so or not..
“No more? Oh, sweetheart..I know you can give me so much more than that..” his voice mirroring that of a very nefarious villain. Even patting your cheek and sliding a thumb between your lips for a small semblance of comfort. You looked so cute and utterly pathetic. So much so the sight made him twitch whilst buried to your hilt. That swollen cock head pressing directly against the entrance of your womb. He hadn’t been entirely honest when he invited you over for what he called “one last talk.”..hell, he had no intentions at all of sitting down and discussing the state of your relationship, what he could do to resolve it or how to be a better man. His one and true objective was to get you pregnant! He wanted you to be with his child, so that no matter where you strayed, you’d be reminded of him. He’d constantly tell you how he wanted you to have his baby and that you’d look so pretty carrying it. But you couldn’t in good faith raise a child with someone as irresponsible as Armin! His employment was constantly fleeting, he lacked all the skills required to care for another human being and you didn’t want that risk. But you truly had no choice..no choice but to lie there and take every inch of him as your beautiful brown eyes rolled to the back of your skull. As that appendage left an imprint in the pit of your belly, kissing the inner corner of that cervix. Your legs flailing midair and your toes curling to the max. He wanted to keep you like this forever..admire and treasure his most precious possession..
“I mean..I bet if I do this..” suddenly, you’d feel that swelling tension in your loins deepening when he rubbed your clit with his free thumb. “No wait!—“ “..you’ll come so hard, I won’t even be able to stay inside of you.” His voice is so condescending but soothing in a way. He gave you sweet nothings with the most sour of intentions. Knowing that he wasn’t going to allow you to leave here tonight without every last drop of his seed in your womb. Until he saw the lines on that test indicating a positive result. He needed it..he needed you so fucking badly!
“So that’s why I want you to take it…take all this fucking dick, sweetheart. You’re such a good girl..the only one who can get all of my nut. So do it..take it just like you did the other ones.”
it was then that those vigorous thrusts would resume. Even harder than before and he didn’t care that he had now freed your hands and you were utilizing them as a means to slow him down. He’d merely put them right back where they started. “If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, beautiful. I guess I’ll just have to hold them again.” Meanwhile, he’d release another maniacal laugh and shove his tongue between your lips; swirling it around your own until you were whimpering into his mouth. He had maximized his speed and was rutting those hips until you felt him to the hilt. That tight cunt made even more constricted by his previous loads that had been sloshing around. Throbbing and leaking as he thrashed you around. His thick girth and long length fill every sector of you. He had full dominion over this body and wasn’t letting go!
“Are you gonna do as I asked, baby? You’ll do whatever I want, right?..”
“Y-yes, daddy! Fuck meeee..”
“And you’re not going any fucking where, isn’t that right?..”
“No…oh my gosh, just don’t stop.”
your answer seemed to satisfy his ego well enough and that was all he needed to persist. Smirking down and rewarding you with another kiss, Armin gently stroked the side of your face before leaning back up.
“That’s right, baby. Get used to calling me daddy..because I want to get you pregnant. Fill that pretty pussy up..you ready?” You’d vehemently nod with tears in your eyes. Begging for him to do so..to make you his forever. With only a couple more strokes, he’d take an inch or so out and for his final thrusts, slow down.. “..c’mon, beg me. Lemme hear you say that shit. Tell me you want my babies..tell me you want me to get you pregnant.” Leaving you no option than to do so and truth be told…
“Come in me, daddy! Please..give it to me..”
“There we go…now hold still..”
you wouldn’t want it any other way! Finally, he’d come to a halt and you’d feel that earlier throbbing increased tenfold. All that mounting tension of being between those tight walls had finally caught up and he couldn't hold or pull out. “Ah—haaa..shit, coming!”
pulling you into his chest, Armin would empty every last remnant of his cum into your womb, filling your stomach with every ounce, joining the other two that had followed before. You were stuffed to the brim; overflowing with the warm, white substance by the time he finished. Those strings of silky fluid didn’t come without a chorus of empty ‘I love you’s’ and tearful cries. He made you linger on every word. Hold on to hope that he meant what he spoke. But even if there wasn’t a hint of truth in his statement..
“Thank you, sweetheart…for letting me fill you up..look at that. Gonna look so pretty with my baby..I love you.”
it was too late. You were already trapped inside of his web!
7K notes · View notes
gojoath · 4 months
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Hìi love, your yan yuta has me FERAL. i can't stop thinking about him, i want to know what's would happen if the reader finally snaps on yuta, i feel after (or during👀) all the chaos and threats the make up sex would be amazing
𐑺 ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ STAY HOME INSTEAD, OKKOTSU YŪTA
you loved your boyfriend, you did. but you think there’s only so much of his.. devoted personality you can take before the cracks begin to show.
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summary. fem reader. yandere boyfriend yūta. jealousy. obsession. you snap at him. it makes him even crazier tbh. biting / marking. manipulation. aged up characters. toxic relationships. possessive behaviours. threats (not towards reader but in his mind). he fantasises about locking you away. oral receiving. creampie. wc, 6.4k
note. hi anon :) thank you so much for fuelling the yan yūta agenda, i hope i was able to do this justice for u ❤︎ (ngl i think i blacked out 3k deep)
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today has been such a drag, you grumble to yourself as you trudge your way up the stairs to your apartment that feel harder today than any other day. your legs feel moments away from buckling underneath you, your eyes are tired and you’re in need of some food— a bath too maybe.
but still you don’t think you’ve ever been as excited for a dinner with your friends than you are tonight. it’d been a while since you’d gotten the chance to go to one, other plans getting in the way and something always seeming to crop up last minute. you sigh as you take the last step onto your floor landing and fiddle mindlessly with your keys before pressing them into your apartment lock with a satisfying click.
you just can’t wait to unwind first, maybe after a well deserved nap on the couch for an hour.
you let your belongings drop at your front door as you roll out your shoulders, sliding off your shoes before you’re taking your first step into your apartment to flick on the lamp in the corner. you can’t wait to be wrapped up on your couch, tangled in your blanket and the low, ambient lighting that always makes your naps ten times more fulfilling. your eyes are almost closing at the thought already—
“oh, you’re back” a steady voice sounds just as you push through the door to your living room, and the nature in which it catches you off guard makes you jump before it’s followed by two warm hands resting on your shoulders.
“shit—“ you gasp as you blink quickly, feeling the rate of your heart pick up suddenly despite the way you still feel half asleep and oh so exhausted. but your shoulders slump once more when you look up to meet the gaze of the voice’s source. “yuuta?”
your new boyfriend okkotsu yuuta was someone you’d describe as hauntingly handsome, in the same sort of way you’d be attracted to your celebrity crush shirtless in a movie and covered in blood after beating the villain. his features were always a little sleepy, dark circles despite the way he managed to sleep well his nights at yours, but his black hair framed them nicely. although you were never aware of his presence unless he wanted you to be, it was his charm, you’d tell your friends.
his name is barely out from between your lips before he leans into swallow it as he presses into you, you’d think it’d been days since he’s seen you with the need that he pours into the kiss. his hands rest in their place on your hips and his fingertips squeeze into the skin, just enough to have your mouth opening to gasp before he seals it.
he takes the opportunity, drinks up the reactions you have to his touch as his tongue presses past your lips to graze against your own. it’s heated and impatient, every movement of his mouth feels like it’s set to devour you completely and you feel your lungs clench with the sudden need to breathe before you try to push him away.
“are you okay?” yuuta’s question is instantaneous with the break of your lips,
but your boyfriends gaze is lidded as he looks over you and you always found it to be quite intriguing despite the way others may call it something else. there was no shine to his eyes, no vitality, only this dull disinterest that only seemed to glow faintly whenever it touched yours. it was like a constant continual stare that made goosebumps prick along your skin, but also made you feel like it wanted to tear you out of it entirely.
people might find it unnerving but you always found the blue in yuuta’s eyes rather tranquil.
“you just scared me.” you let your head roll back slightly as you place your palm on your chest, trying to quell the erratic movement of your heartbeat against your ribs before it bounces out completely. you send your boyfriend a small glare, albeit nothing too serious before you’re wriggling out of his hold and walking further into the room.
“ah, sorry.” yuuta replies gently as he sends you a soft smile and scratches at the back of his neck. but his eyes remain on you as you cross the floor, finding purchase on the couch before he’s following suit to rest in the space beside you as the cushions dip under your combined weight.
“how did you get in here?” you ask, a resonant hum despite the way you’re not really listening as you focus on trying to get yourself comfortable instead, leaning back to grab the blanket that rests so invitingly on the back of your seat before you’re rolling it out and tucking yourself into it.
“oh, uh.. the door was open.” you don’t really register yuuta’s reply and you’re too tired to press the subject further, especially when he’s letting you rest your thighs in his lap so comfily. maybe if you were a little more awake you’d have remembered the click of your lock just minutes ago as you opened it. but right now his hands squeeze affectionately at your skin as you push yourself down onto your side, and you feel amazing as you rest your head on the arm of the sofa to breathe softly.
“i thought we could stay in tonight.” there’s a hopefulness to his words as he looks over you, eyes fixated on your drowsy features as his hands coax comfort into your bones with every graze of his fingertips. it’s like he’s convincing you, watching the way your eyelashes flutter and kiss the apples of your cheeks, like it’ll get him what he wants. “then we can stay like this forever.”
that’s how it always was, and it seemed to work— the past few weekends atleast.
“oh, i cant tonight. i have dinner.” you drawl soundly, your voice more of a dreamy, high pitched purr as yuuta’s hands work at your skin.
“oh, who will be there?” but his reply is still quick and despite the way your eyes are closed, you can feel the way his gaze cuts through you,
“just a few people from work, it’s been a while since i’ve been able to make one.” you don’t pay any mind to the squeeze of your boyfriends hands on your skin suddenly. his voice steals back your attention again before you can focus on it too much as he chews nervously on his lower lip.
“i don’t know them, maybe i should come.”
it’s a little irritating, the way yuuta is choosing to have this unnecessary conversation now— the agitation only being fuelled by the way his voice keeps pulling you out of your drowsy state of mind.
he’d gotten like this a few times, you’d opted to spend the last few weekends in your apartment with him which in turn meant denying the invitations that came before this one. you understood that he could get jealous, his devotion to you was quite flattering in a way, his need to constantly have you next to him just so he could ensure your safety, that’s what it was. he just wanted to keep you safe.
but that doesn’t mean it didn’t verge on overbearing at times, especially when yuuta always ended up following behind you at your heels everywhere you went. even before you both actually got together, you always found it to be some strange twist of fate that you both consistently managed to bump into eachother every time you left the house,
“yuuta, stop. you don’t have to follow me everywhere, i’m fine.” your words are sharper now and it makes his body tense, your eyes begrudgingly blinking open as you stare blankly at the wall opposite you both. why won’t you meet his gaze? why aren’t you looking at him?
“but how will they know you’re mine?” like the bites and hickies yuuta always greedily left on your skin weren’t proof enough, he always got a little agitated when you’d try to cover them up afterall. his fingers twitch in your thighs again and his voice wavers, it’s unsteadier than it was a few moments ago as his body looms closer to your own, curling over you slightly like how a cat would corner a mouse, but you pay him no mind.
“they’ll know.”
“but, you’ll be alone.”
“yuuta, i said to stop.” you snap as you push yourself up to sit, any remnants of sleep that you were clinging to have been swallowed up completely by the agitation that burns you now. you ignore the way yuuta’s hand reaches out to pull you back as you stand, not even sending him a second glance as you make your way out of the living room with a long, drawn out huff. “i’m going to get ready.. or am i not allowed to do that without you either?”
“sorry,” yuuta’s shoulders sag as he stares into the doorway that your figure just disappeared behind and he feels something sinister burn in his chest as his gaze widens. his next inhale is ragged as he hunches forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, his head is in his hands and he feels dizzy with the frustration that settles in his bones.
it’s not fair, why are they trying to take you from him?
“don’t be mad,” his words are muttered whispers, smeared into his palms as his fingertips shake. another unnerving moment of silence and his hands are shoved in his hair before they’re pulling at his roots. “i don’t like when you’re mad at me.” it’s unhinged, terrifying how quiet he seems to appear despite the way he’s anything but as he curls over himself.
yuuta’s words are barely audible, spoken only to himself and they’re nothing more than obsessive babbling under his breath, they’re disjointed and wavering under the spiral of his own overwhelming emotions. “i’ll kill them, this is their fault.” but they’re a declaration, determined— he’s driven by his devotion to you. nobody will come between you and your love. he has to kill them, he has to, he has—
“yuuta?” your voice reverberates and his movements halt suddenly before his head tilts to the source of the sound, but the way he looks at you is intense enough to make you feel rooted in place as you stand above him. he hadn’t notice you coming back in, maybe you hadn’t left him all alone without you, he knew you’d come back. “what are you doing?” his eyes were there, but it was like he wasn't seeing anything, like he was stuck in a nightmare, a vision that was at play in front of him that only he could see.
but he still manages to send you an almost misplaced, unnervingly sweet smile.
“they’re trying to take you away from me.” yuuta whispers, softly as you tilt your head in his direction. something in your bones is telling you to move, to run, but there’s an energy that surrounds him that dares you to. he’d catch you. it’s a threatening sort of pressure that you feel weigh down on your body, it feels like it swallows you completely and the space between you feels so tight that you can barely get enough air in your lungs.
you sway slightly as he pushes himself to stand, letting you stumble back before he’s steadying you, urging you to close the already close proximity before he’s letting his fingers stroke gently at your cheek. you feel trapped, figuratively and literally because the way he’s holding you is tight and as much as you want to try to break free, you still seem to lean into his touch.
“but you’re mine, your heart, your body, everything.” his tone is so sweet, almost polite and it makes a shiver trail down your spine. another soft, featherlight stroke of yuuta’s fingertips and you feel something warm burn along the back of your neck, although you’re not too sure if it’s a positive reaction yet. “because i love you.” it’s intense and too much, you’d only been together a few weeks and now he’s confessing to you like it’s nothing, like you should’ve known all along.
“you’re scaring me.” you manage to finally say as you place your hands on your boyfriends chest, but you don’t push him away yet. you stare up at him, because even despite the mused black hair that falls over his eyes— you think it’s a little confusing that the broken pieces of him only seem to make you want him closer, to put him back together. it was his charm.
“don’t be scared, this is pure love.” you let him pull you closer again and your palms remain on his chest, until almost by instinct, they’re lured to wrap around his shoulders instead. maybe it’s the sweet words he’s speaking gently into your ear, the way he’s holding you so softly despite the way you can feel the weight that’s keeping you pinned to him. “i have you, so i don’t need anything else.”
like he’d seal your body against his for eternity if you weren’t careful.
“stay with me.” yuuta asks again because he loves you, he gives you the choice despite the way he could easily lock you in here by force if he needed to. he dreams to, to have you all to himself— then there wouldn’t be any outside forces to tear you away from him, he wants to have you by his side forever.
but because you’re good and you love him, he knows he won’t have to do that just yet. right?
you’re wordless, you don’t speak as you blink up at him but he takes your silence as acceptance as he hums out a pleased sort of sound before he’s pulling you in again. it’s full of teeth and spit this time as he kisses you, like he’s devouring a meal— like he’s hungry, starved of affection and you’re a banquet of it, for him to feast as he pleases. until he’s full.
something burns in your chest and you don’t notice the way your thighs seem to be trembling until you take an unsteady step back as yuuta’s weight presses into you. as much as he lets you before he’s pulling you back again.
maybe it’s the way he kisses you that has you pliant, that has you eagerly meeting him with soft presses of your lips— trying to keep up with every wet press of his tongue as he sucks your lower lip between his teeth to bite. you’re lightheaded and warm but you can’t deny that something similar to fear still lingers underneath your skin when he pulls back to look over you again.
but why is the dread making everything feel so much better? maybe you’re just as twisted as he is.
it’s so fast the way yuuta moves you, the way you find yourself so seamlessly back on the couch before he’s caging you in, pushing you into the cushions as his body presses between your thighs. he notices the way your gasps of his name trail off at the end, he hears the whispery, breathy, pouty sound your lips make as you lean into him, so desperate to pull him closer as your thighs wrap around his hips and he knows what it is.
“see, it’s love.” he gulps and the sound makes your toes curl from where you’re sat, because he says it like he’s never been so sure of anything in his life as he pulls away to smile down at you. it’s sweet and warm, emphasised by the way his cheeks are a little flushed from your kisses— along with his lips as he gives you an adoring look and you try to brush off the pinpricks of arousal with a deep breath.
maybe this was love.
“but i’m done talking now.” the floor creaks as yuuta leans forward into you, his words taking a lower sort of drawl when he tilts your head to the side— revealing more of the skin between your shoulder blade and jawline as he kisses along the space. he’s overwhelmed with how good you smell immediately, your body heat, the feeling of your fingers in his hair before they pull at the roots with every rough graze of his teeth and he’s pretty sure his brain scrambles at the touch.
it’s needy and a little wild the way he’s suckling marks into your skin, closing his lips around the previous ones he’s left that he thinks are getting a little too faded as he rolls them back between his teeth. you’re almost trembling beneath him, arching into him— pulling him even closer and he could get used to this, being wrapped in you, having you beneath him. what would he have to offer you to make you stay by his side forever?
yuuta’s palming at your clothes and you’re whispering sweet little pleas that drive him fucking crazy, he’s so consumed with lust he thinks he might actually pass out as his teeth sink so deep into the crook of your neck he almost draws blood.
“yuuta, please.” you try, beg for him to give you what you need but the sweet sound only makes him press himself deeper into you, the hem of your shirt slinking up with his wrists as they smooth up your body.
“will you give me all of you?” his voice cracks under the weight of his arousal as he feels you move beneath him, hips clasped tight around his and your pussy feels like fucking silk against his cock, even with the fabric between you as it sticks to his overheating skin.
but yuuta needs to hear you say it, needs to hear you say that you’re his for him to take, to mark, to adore. it’s easier when it’s done by choice, he can tell you love him when you gasp out his name in that pretty, dreamy tone or when your eyes remain on his despite the way his threaten to swallow the way yours glow.
“yesyes, just please.” your wound up so tight but the already shaky thread that was holding onto the dwindling weight of his sanity snaps when you grab at his hair to pull again.
yuuta makes a ragged sort of sound as he eases himself away from your lips to kneel on the floor beside the sofa, the gentleness in which he does is a stark contrast to the way he pulls at the fabric between you both— almost ripping the light material with the strength that always seems to surprise you when you notice it. like he’s hiding it.
“see, you don’t need anyone else. i can take care of you.” his dark pupils are blown as they look over you and you’re sure they look similar to the last sight a rabbit would see before it was ripped apart by a fox. you don’t dare to speak, to argue because the fear leaves you pliant, soft beneath him as he shoves down your clothes, then your panties as his warm fingers dig into your aching flesh.
you feel yuuta’s lips press into your abdomen before his teeth follow suit, accompanied by the way he’s dragging and working his tongue along your skin as he squeezes at your thighs. there’s a flush high on his cheek, driven by the mindless throb in his cock and you’d think he looks adorable if you didn’t feel like he was about to make you food.
it makes you feel even hotter.
mine, he murmurs against your skin— buries it there, like the skin will remember before he’s suckling another raised mark, covering you in a brand as he suckles a messy, drooled kiss into your hip.
“yuu, please~” you whisper as you lift your head up to watch yuuta lean back onto his knees and throw your thighs over his shoulders with a long exhale through his teeth. your legs twitch against his cheeks as the warm air blows over your folds and it makes yuuta’s cock throb in his pants before he’s wasting no more time waiting.
it’s filthy, the urge in which he presses his mouth into you as your head rolls back, curling his tongue around your pussy before he’s dragging it up higher— laving your clit in messy, suckled kisses and rolls of his tongue. your boyfriend had always been an enthusiastic eater, he ate you out like he wanted to die there— to live, eat, breathe your fucking pussy and he really wishes you’d give him that choice already.
another claim, another mine buried between your folds and the low, needy tone of yuuta’s voice sends blissful vibrations straight through your clit. the way he’s smacking and slurping at your slick is loud and you’d almost be embarrassed if you’re head didn’t feel like it was full of cotton, because you’re so wet and it feels so good.
he can feel the way you’re dripping down his cheeks, you’re almost babbling as he buries himself even deeper into you until his hips twitch with want, you’re so eager— so consumed by him he thinks you’d give him anything right now if he asked. this is exactly how he loves you.
your head falls forward slightly and your hands move to twist in yuuta’s hair again, pulling at the dark roots but the searing pain only makes him feel drunker on the taste of you. it urges him to press his tongue against the entrance to your pussy, whimpering at the first needy squeeze of your walls that greet him. mine—
your eyelashes flutter but his dark gaze remains on you during every moment. he needs to see every second of you like this, so consumed by lust and by him. your hips are desperate, needily humping against his tongue and he thinks it’s adorable, it’s his— your his, your body, your mind. he’ll carve his name on your every thought until he’s all you have left.
you twitch beneath him and he only leans more of himself on top of you, burying himself between your thighs as his large palms bare down on your hips so tight you’re sure they’ll bruise. he doesn’t want to stop, he can’t, not until you’re creaming on his tongue— giving him all of you, he needs everything.
“give it to me. all of it.” yuuta grunts, orders as your eyes finally lift to touch his and it makes you burn so hot you’d swear fire lived within his gaze. he lets you guide him to where you want him but he knows what you need, so he hums before he’s hooking his tongue around your clit once more.
he feels the bud grow firmer, more sensitive when he’s twisting and laving it in licks that you meet with eager, intoxicating twitches of your hips. “s-so good,” he knows it is, he’s studied you enough to know that, watched you play with your pretty pussy through your apartment window too many times for him to count, he knows what makes you twitch and how pretty you look as you cum. he’s so eager to see it now.
“g’nna cum.” you gasp and it almost makes yuuta pass out as he bares eagerly into you, pulling you deeper into his mouth as he trails his tongue underneath the hood of your clit and his lips close around it. he suckles languidly and you fucking tremble as your fingertips twitch against his scalp, his own needy moans muffled into the dips of your cunt as the warm bliss begins to curl and lick down your spine.
“look at me.” he needs to see you, see the love that pools in your eyes from him as your gaze peeks open— clouded with lust and so pretty he swears he almost cums in his pants. another press of his tongue and it’s instantaneous the way your body stiffens, breathing out his name like a hormone-drunken plea, like it’s the only word you know as your orgasm makes your toes curl.
you hear yuuta whine, long and low, with the first taste of your cream along his tongue as he drinks you up greedily, swallowing loudly with every eager slurp while his lidded gaze doesn’t waver from yours. you’re still looking at him albeit blurry, hands in his hair and he thinks you’re beautiful like this,
it doesn’t take long until you’re trembling with overstimulation, his cheeks and chin damp with your slick and his spit and you know if you don’t pull him away he’ll keep going. so you send him a pleading sort of pretty look that makes him bend for you so willingly as you lead him back up to you by his hair.
although the hard press of his cock against your sensitive cunt only reminds you of what’s to come.
“i need you, please.” he gasps when you pull him in for another kiss, so fucking sexy as you both moan at the taste of you along his tongue and it only makes yuuta throb against the inside of your thigh when you nod. he eagerly pushes down his slacks in response.
his fingers twitch into your hips before he’s pulling you towards him, letting your lower back press into the edge of the couch as he mounts you like an animal, like something carnal as he feels your skin tremble beneath him.
this was what it meant to be okkotsu yuuta’s, to belong to him. why would you pass this up for a night with your friends? you don’t need them, he’s all you’ll ever need. they wouldn’t have you trembling like he does, pouty lips and eyes glazed overs when you feel the first graze of his cock along the inside of your thigh.
the hunger in his gaze almost seems misplaced against the flush of his cheeks, but it still makes something race down your spine when you catch a glimpse of it through the dark bangs that fall relaxed over his features, still mused from your fingertips.
yuuta’s lips part against yours when the tip of his cock presses against the entrance to your cunt, and the sound he makes is almost tender as one of his hands come to softly brush along your cheek bones again. he holds you there, before he pulls away to rest his forehead to yours, to meet your gaze as he finally begins to sink into you and it feels so intimate, soft despite the bruising grip his other hand holds on your hips.
he sucks his lower lip between his teeth as he murmurs with a mixture of need and delight, he’d been waiting for this all day— to finally sink up into you, this is what you could have everyday if you’d just let him move in. he doesn’t care if it’s only been a few weeks, maybe he’ll pull another orgasm out of you— wait until you’re pliant and drowsy before he proposes the idea.
then you’d never have to leave again.
your thighs twitch as yuuta grazes past your swollen spots and he hopes the reaction is really because you can read his mind, maybe you want him just as much as he wants you. this really was pure love, and the realisation makes him smile before he whimpers when your walls reward the stretch of his cock with another needy squeeze around him.
his cock was pretty, long enough to make your toes curl and your pussy clenches hard around him the deeper he goes as he groans, leaning in to smear messy kisses along your cheeks as you grab and scratch at his shoulders. he hopes you leave marks.
yuuta’s hips stutter when he finally bottoms out and it’s like a reward the way you breathe out his name. the weight of his hips lean against yours as they keep you against the edge of the couch, and his fingers grope a little too hard at your skin as he breathes deep.
for the first time tonight, his eyes are clenched shut and he already misses the sight of you. but he thinks if he catches even a glimpse of you right now he’ll give into the needy coax of your pussy before he’s even had a chance to take what’s truly his.
another trembled exhale and yuuta’s breathing hitches when he feels you lean forward to kiss him once on the cheek, mumbling something affirming that has him shaking before he’s drawing his hips back.
“i love you.” he gasps and your pussy flexes again, as if it’s trying to coax back in every inch you lose— it’s like it’s telling him it loves him too as your body pulls a breathier croon of your name from his lips. his first real thrust is a little too eager, it’s clumsy and he whimpers before he readjusts himself on his knees to begin a real pace that’s a little steadier. it’s one that has your toes curling againwhen he hugs you closer, listening to him pant and moan softly between your own moans as his lips smear against your cheek.
“please, i love you.” again, and your hips grind up to meet his— you can’t deny that the affirmation makes you feel warm, something twisting in your gut that you feel too lightheaded to pinpoint.
maybe it is love, maybe it’s not too soon to think that way when he has you feeling this good.
your lips part to moan his name as he rocks forward again and he pushes against something sensitive inside of you as you arch—try to, although his strong grasp manages to keep you in place.
“i love you too.” your mind is hazy and you think it’s mostly a spur of the moment confession rather than a real one but you don’t care at this point when it only makes yuuta’s pace increase. he only gets faster, needier and that same pressure that you felt around him earlier is back as it bares down on you both— pressing you deeper into the cushions like it’s only driving him more.
your body jolts against his, every rock of his hips making the mess between your thighs squelch loudly around your apartment and every quick thrust leaves you breathless. his movements are driven by love, pure devotion to you like he’s proving that nobody will be able to take care of you like he can. he’ll kill anyone who tries.
“i— ah, i knew it. you love me.” yuuta’s words are barely audible, they’re unsteady and needy— almost lost behind the loud clapping of his hips into yours. but you can hear the joy in them, a soft sort of chirp that has a chill bursting along your skin despite how hot you feel. he only forces his cock deeper into your slick cunt following your little confession because you love him, you love him, he knew you did. it was obvious, he could tell. that means you’ll be his forever, you don’t leave people that you love.
his pelvis grinds against your clit and your hands are back in his hair to pull again as his lips part at the sting, making his cock throb from where he’s pressing into you. “again.” please, he gulps, words like a plea, letting his slender fingers trace between your bodies to roll your puffy clit like he’s trying to lure it out of you again.
your breathing skips as you mutter out another i love you, it’s like a prayer rather than a confession as you babble mindlessly so lost in your pleasure as your pussy throbs around him.
“yuu—“ you squeal, but yuuta almost threatens to swallow you whole when his hand hooks around the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss as you cum. his hips press into yours, snug and tight with the first milking compression of your walls and you feel the spit trail down your lips as they move with his. but he licks it up so lewdly before he pushes his tongue back against yours.
the mindless movements of his mouth accompanied by the back and forth stutter of his hips makes you almost see white as he fucks you through another mind-numbing orgasm. “it’s s-so good, it’s perfect.” and it’s his, he rasps and the praise pours down your spine as you chant his name breathlessly into each kiss despite the way his thrusts interrupt the press of your lips.
yuuta’s haunting gaze opens as he admires you, drinks in the way your eyelashes kiss your cheeks— the way your eyes crinkle slightly with each particularly deep kiss of his cock. he lets them drop between you next, to take in the gooey ring of liquid that forms around the base of him everytime he draws his hips back. to admire the orgasm that he earned, that he owns as he pushes another hissed i love you between your lips.
your breathing becomes laboured as drowsiness sets in and he takes that as his signal to let himself go as his cock throbs with the weight of his orgasm, making him shake above you. his lips are still on yours before he lets them close around your tongue, suckling messily as he pushes his load into your puffy pussy, finally losing himself in the fluttering pull of your body.
you feel yuuta’s arm hook around your waist, tightening in some attempt to pull you closer despite the way his thrusts have been reduced to slow humps into you before they finally cease completely. but his lips still manage to bathe you in soft, affectionate kisses as they follow a path along your cheeks and lips.
you’re both spent, falling into a slump against the side of the couch as your ass slides off to rest on the floor beneath you and you stay like that for a few moments as you catch your breath. his kisses stop albeit momentarily as he pulls away to look at you, and you think it’s charming the way he’s flushed to his chest and still a little awkward looking despite the way you can literally feel his cock softening inside of you.
yuuta smiles at you, it’s kind and warm and it makes you forget all about the plans you were supposed to have before his palm is cupping your cheek again, and he’s kissing you once more on the lips. “sorry, i’ll run you a bath.” he breathes, laughs softly against your lips and you hum in acknowledgment before you wrap your arms around his shoulders.
you could stay like this forever, you admit.
another long press of his lips against yours and you’re both roused from your dreamy little makeout session when you hear the shrill vibration of your phone on the couch behind you. your eyes widen at your friends contact ID and you’re suddenly reminded about the plans you were supposed to have as you try to scramble to your feet, albeit shakily and a little messy when you feel yuuta’s cum eagerly smear against the inside of your thighs.
“shit, i forgot.” you gasp and it’s almost by instinct the way he feels his gaze darken, threateningly when you rush to your feet to pad towards the bathroom after giving him another quick kiss, although you don’t recognise the murderous intent. he loves you afterall. it’s not for you.
he feels his shoulders slump as he rests in the living room now, soft cock and half naked before he hears the running water of the shower switch on. he’s pretty sure he could ruin your little plans in the time it takes you to shower, it wouldn’t take him long infact. he’s pretty sure he left his katana in your bedroom when he arrived. if he left right now he could—
“yuuta! aren’t you coming in?” maybe another day.. maybe, he’s got love in his life now afterall as he finds himself rushing to your side.
it’s almost an hour later as yuuta rests on your bed, his hair is wet now— falling over his dark gaze and if he’d successfully managed to pull you into bed with him, he’s sure he’d be asleep by now. but his attention is still all on you, watching you lift up the various discarded outfits you’ve left thrown around your room as you look for your phone.
“yuuta, have you seen my phone? ugh, i literally just had it in the living room and now it’s gone.” you grumble, frustrated and despite how tired he feels— he still manages to perk up a little when you round the bed to look under the comforter beneath him. “could you help me look?”
he’d do anything for you.
almost anything, because instead of looking for your phone— he lets his fingers wrap gently around your wrist as you hover over him and he only pulls you closer, urging you to fall against his chest before you’re grumbling about how late you already are. but you’re not putting up much of a fight, you must want to stay here with him.
“don’t leave. you said you’d never leave me.” yuuta hums as he watches you push yourself up against his chest, hooking one of your thighs over his hips so you’re able to straddle his waist. you think you do remember saying something like that, although you can’t really be held accountable for everything you do when your boyfriend has you pressed against the shower wall.
his hands fall into their place at your hips and he sends you another lidded look before you sigh.
“yuuta, i’m already so late i need to find it.” you try, but he’s not convinced.
“i need you first, all of you. then i’ll help you look.” he had a way of melting you, irritatingly so when his words are accompanied by a strong rock of your hips against his. it’s controlled by his hands and in the exact spot he knows you like as you bite on your lip nervously, but you let him because you love him, don’t you?
don’t worry about being late, he made sure to text your friends from your phone to let them know the plans had changed before he decided to keep it safe in the pocket of his slacks anyway.
you: sorry, can’t make it tonight. busy for the next few months.
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yandere-daydreams · 6 months
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Title: Coveted.
Pairing: Yandere!Geto x Reader (+Yandere!Gojo) [JJK].
Word Count: 1.1k.
TW: Set Two or Three Years Post KFC Break-Up, Intimidation, Prolonged Stalking, Future Dub/Con, Mentions of Non/Con, and Unbalanced Power Dynamics.
[Part Two]
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“You’re Satoru’s date, right?”
The voice was masculine, deep and as rough as it could be without crossing the line into gravelly. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders and burrowing your nails into your palm as your eyes darted across the table – where a man with dark hair and an off-putting smile was currently sliding into the unoccupied side of your booth. He reached out, clearly planning to shake your hand, but when you failed to move, he only let out an airy chuckle, propping his chin on his fist as he went on. “I’m a friend of his – Geto Suguru. You can call me Suguru-chan, though. Has he already told you about me?”
He was dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed – his attire limited to a form-fitting black shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants in the same color, his hair pulled into a loose bun. His tone was friendly, light. You returned it with a dead-pan stare, hoping it conveyed the weight of your exhaustion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Is that what he told you to say?” Another laugh, somehow more blood-chilling than the first. Your attention shifted outward, to the late-night diner where Gojo had asked you to meet him. There were only a few other customers, the skeleton of a proper staff, but single other person would’ve been one too many. You didn’t need to make a scene, not again, not after last time. “That sounds like him. He’s always been a stingy bastard.”
With a pressed frown, you pushed yourself to your feet, but Geto’s grin only broadened. He snapped his fingers and as if it’d only been waiting for a queue, a shape manifested at the end of your bench. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at it, but you saw enough out of the corner of your eye; a bulbous torso, shrunken arms, too many eyes to resemble any living thing. Instantly, what little courage you still had was replaced with a knot of dread, a bolt of pure anxiety. You half-expected it to lunge, to bite, to attack, but it didn’t move, only standing guard at the foot of your table.
It didn’t move, but it didn’t have to. In a moment, you’d fallen back into your seat and shoved yourself against the wall, fighting not to shake. It was a sight Geto seemed to take a particular joy in, letting his head lull to the side as he watched you curl into yourself. “You can see them. I was starting to think I had the wrong person.” A pause, a glance towards his summoned monster before his narrowed gaze skirted back to you. “Don’t be shy, now. How much did he tell you?”
It took you a moment to find your tongue, another to swallow back the tremor in your voice. "He said he could protect me.” It was harder to admit than you’d expected – not so much that you needed protection, but that there was something you needed protection from. You’d spent so long writing off your monsters as hallucinations that it was still a struggle to act like they were anything more. But, for as unwilling as you were to confront your little monsters, the resounding ache in your right leg where that thing had dug its claws into you was impossible to ignore. “He… he didn’t mention anyone else, but we’ve only spoken once. He was supposed to explain—” You gestured to the monster. “—all of this today.”
A slight hum, a look of genuine surprise. “So, he’s got some self-restraint after all! I thought he would’ve cracked months ago, considering how long he’s been following you around like a lost puppy.” He must’ve seen your expression fall, your posture slacken, because he didn’t wait for a response before going on. “I mean, you must’ve known that, at least. Did you think he’d play knight-in-shining-armor for just anyone?”
“I…” You trailed off quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t care. As long as he can protect me, I don’t care why he’s doing it.”
“That’s a dangerous thing to say. You wouldn’t want to make Satoru feel so replaceable, now, would you?”  
At that, you met his stare. “What do you want?”
His eyes skirted towards the monster, who took an obedient step back. For a second, you considered running, trying to slip away before the man in front of you or your newly-realized stalker could make you regret ever showing up at all, but Geto was quick to cut off your escape route, filling the empty space beside you before you could so much as pick which door you would barrel through on the way out. “Well, now that we’re on the same page,” Unlike his monster, he didn’t give you the option of leaving him in your peripheral; settling close enough for his leg to press into yours. At this proximity, you could pick up the smoke on his breath, the scent of stale gore clinging to him like a second skin. As if he’d just stepped out of a blood bath. “I’d like to make you an alternative offer.”
“You’d protect me?”
“Oh, I’d do more than just that.” His hand fell to your thigh. “I’d have everything you’ve ever been afraid of bowing to you by the end of the night.”
You swallowed dryly. “You didn’t answer my first question. What do you get out of helping me?”
His answer was nonverbal, but clear enough. With that same idle grin, he nodded toward the streaked window, to the building across the street. Your heart fell into your stomach. It was one of those sleazy, by-the-hour hotels – the sign missing more than a few letters and the parking lot as empty as the diner. It was the kind of place that you only went to for one thing, and you had a feeling Geto hadn’t found some miraculous second reason to want to be alone with you in one of those bug-infested rooms.
You weren’t sure why you said it. Maybe to buy yourself time. Maybe because you couldn’t stand the idea of being left in silence as what was left of your rational mind screamed at you to get out of there. “I don’t have any money.”
“It’ll be my treat.”
“What happens I refuse?”
“I kill everyone here,” His nails bit into exposed skin. “And then fuck you on this table while their bodies attract flies.”
You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so tired.
You might’ve done anything, if you could bring yourself to care about anything but keeping those awful creatures at a distance.
Stiffly, with your eyes shut and your teeth grit, you forced yourself to nod. Geto rewarded you with an impossibly wide grin, a breath of a laugh. “Smart little thing.”
This time, he didn’t pretend it was an option; reaching out, taking your trembling hand in his own, and squeezing so softly, you could almost convince yourself he was being gentle.
“It’s only a shame Satoru isn’t here to join us.”
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joeloverture · 2 months
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morning cardio | dbf!j.m. x f!reader
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masterlist | updates blog pairing: dbf!neighbor!joel miller x f!reader summary: [no outbreak] your neighbor and dad's longtime buddy catches you sneaking back home after an underwhelming hook-up. you want more — he provides. warnings: (18+ mdni) dbf!neighbor!joel, age gap (23/50), reader has a bad relationship with her father, reader's father is overly strict, reader hooks up with an oc, dirty talk, soft!dom joel, degradation, praise, thigh riding, 1 spank, titty slapping, daddy kink, exhibitionism but nobody sees, almost caught, heavy petting, misogyny for sexiness that joel doesn't actually believe in since he's a sweetheart [no use of y/n] word count: 3.7k a/n: watch me almost exclusively post dbf joel. watch me. also, mind the tags, they've changed slightly since i posted the teaser. this was supposed to be a series. this is no longer the case bc i'm indecisive. sorry.
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Mistake number one: your eyes are crusted shut with the mascara you’d forgotten to wipe off.
Mistake number two: the bed you wake up in is not your own.
Mistake number three: sleeping with your neighbor.
Rubbing your mascara-sealed eyes, you blink yourself into consciousness and instantly regret it. There’s a moment of stillness, time stretching as you take in the room underneath the swelling orange sunlight. The window is cracked just enough to give you a glimpse at the world outside — birds chirping, sprinklers spritzing, cars crunching gravel as they pull out of the driveway. Surrounding the narrow, rumpled bed is a graveyard of orphaned socks. A box fan whirrs in the corner. The room had felt much cleaner past midnight when it was only the yellowed street lamp outside shining through the window. Then you spot the digital clock on the cluttered bedside table reads 6:10, ten minutes later than you’d wanted to be awake for, and time returns to its regular pace.
Your heart kicks awake in your chest, veins going cold. You kick the sheets off of your sweaty body, roll out of bed, and stumble two steps before planting your feet on the carpet below. Even that isn’t enough to stir your hookup. Dylan Andrews.
It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Both of you were home for spring break. Both of you had flirted at the block party with each other. He was only decent-looking and mediocre with his hands, but you needed a break from spending another night in your childhood bedroom. What better way to do it than with a dick appointment?
Again. It’d seemed like a good enough idea at the time. Sneaking out underneath the nose of your strict, tough-as-nails dad was the easy part. Sneaking back in? Less easy. And to make matters worse, you were already ten minutes behind.
Shit.
You tiptoe across the room, naked as the day you were born, and stuff your underappreciated lingerie into your backpack. Without even putting your panties or bra on, you hop into your shorts and wrestle with your hoodie. By the time you’re out of Dylan’s room, it’s 6:12.
The difference between your dad and Dylan’s mom? She doesn’t give a shit what side of town Dylan wakes up on or how much alcohol is sloshing around in his system as long as he’s safe. You’re not the first girl to do the walk of shame out of Ms. Andrews' generic McMansion house, and you’re far from the last.
She’s downstairs in front of the coffee maker, still wearing her pajamas and doing a Dollar General crossword when you slip past her kitchen unnoticed. The door clangs shut behind you, and you figure she must see you walking down the cul-de-sac.
Your dad always leaves for work at 6:45 after a freezing cold shower and a steaming cup of black coffee for balance. You can only hope his shower ran a little late and that he isn’t at the dining room table already. Cramming two steps into one, you continue with your beeline down the awakening street.
You’re followed home by the mailboxes and flower beds, the pebbles you kick with every step. You’re almost to the property line, prepared to make a mad dash to your front door when you hear the faint call of your name. You skid to a stop, and turn to face the source: the craftsman-style house next door.
And there he is – Joel Miller, sitting on one of the cushioned chairs of his front porch in nothing but his sleep shorts and a t-shirt, legs spread as wide as the chair can accommodate. There’s a smug, knowing look on his face, one that says I’ve caught you. See how you can get out of this.
It’s been a long time since you’ve been face to face with Joel — Mr. Miller. You’d think you’d see him more often, with him being your dad’s buddy and your neighbor, but it’s been since summer. You’re sure he must be having the time of his life by joining your just got laid parade.
“You’re up awful early,” he calls, beckoning you up the driveway with a come-hither movement of his fingers. Leaving your dignity at the curb, you pad up the yard to his porch, climbing one of the stairs to lean against the gutter that feeds into his shrubbery. Pollen and moss is scattered across the wooden deck, surrounding a package that he hasn’t bothered to pick up yet. His guitar is off to the side, propped up against the doorway of the house. You wonder if he’d been playing when he’d seen you walking by.
Joel’s covered for you before, briefly and sparingly. Taken the fall for the half-empty bottle of fireball in your dresser even though he’d never go within ten feet of that shit, blamed it on himself for accidentally leaving it behind after fixing a wheel that had jumped off track for you. Even though your dad had chewed him out for drinking on the job, he’d still managed to sneak it back to you with the wise words of hiding it in a sock next time. You’d been two months past your twenty-first when that had happened, and maybe Joel had pitied you after realizing how authoritarian his friend was.
You aren’t as sure if he’ll pity you now.
“Needed some fresh air,” you defend lamely, hands hanging limp by your sides.
“Needed some cock?” he corrects, and his bluntness makes you choke. He seems relaxed for the words that just came out of his mouth, fingers drumming on his impossibly large thighs, a playful smirk resting on his lips.
You sputter, “No! Jesus, what the hell–”
“I got eyes, hun. Saw you leave that Andrews kid’s place. Clearly he didn’t stick it to ya that good if you’re still walkin’ steady,” he comments. His head tilts.
“Joel,” you hiss, eyes flitting to your dad’s house next door. He seems to read your mind, his smirk widening.
“Wonder what your pops would think. Bet I have a pretty good idea. His little angel, sneakin’ around and whorin’ herself out.” He clicks his tongue at you. “A damn shame.”
Heat spools low in your stomach and down to your unsatisfied center. You wish you’d worn darker colored shorts instead of the flimsy gray things you have on. There’s no barrier of your panties to stop yourself from leaking all over them, and with the way Joel’s looking at you, eyes dark and sly, you’re wishing there was.
“Can’t even imagine what you’re gettin’ up to at that college ‘a yours. Bet you had five guys inside of ya all at once, and I sure ain’t talkin’ about burgers, hun.” He lounges back in his chair, watching you.
You feel yourself gush. Heat burns in your thighs, and they rub together on instinct, seeking to extinguish that brimming ache between your legs. You bunch your hands in the fabric of your sweatshirt and can’t stop yourself from squirming underneath his gaze. It’s not like you’ve never thought about this, this with him of all people when you’re underneath your covers and your hand finds the warm junction between your thighs. Always unattainable. Always just out of reach.
You whisper again, “Joel,” but this time, it comes out as more of a moan. Humiliation warms your cheeks and chest, forming a different kind of pit in your stomach.
“Hmmmm?” Joel hums at you with a raised brow. He’s casual, indifferent, almost. But then his eyes flicker up and down, stopping at the wet patch smeared across the front of your shorts, the way your thighs press tight, tensing before letting go. “Ah. A little slut shamin’ gets you all riled up, hun?” That tears a whimper from you. He does that stupid come hither motion again, and like a lost dog, you listen. Standing in front of him, you feel completely, utterly exposed.
He adjusts himself in his chair, and you swallow the building lump in your throat when you see his bulge hardening. It sends another zap of heat to your core, and then another, more surprised one when his hand goes up to grab at your tit. Your breath catches as he thumbs one of your hardened nipples. A triumphant noise echoes out of him. “Braless, too?” His other hand goes down to your shorts, playing with the waistband. “Prancin’ around in these short, skimpy things, too. Practically giving the whole neighborhood a free peep show.”
His hand slides lower. Lower. Pans over to the crease of your thigh and then his thumb is planting over your clit, rubbing only once before he pulls away. “Messy pussy. Bet you stained the guys sheets.”
You’re quiet, staring at him, his wicked fucking expression, those hands that look like sin itself. You bite the inside of your cheek.
“Ah. Poor baby. All this effort and you didn’t even get to come.” He just looks at you. Unmoving. Not doing a single damn thing to get you there.
“Please, Joel,” you whisper, embarrassed by the gritty need already embedded into your voice when he’s hardly even touched you.
And he’s still wearing that wolfish look, that tainted-with-intention gleam in his eyes that tells you he knows exactly what you do want when he asks, “What? What do you want?” He licks his lips, a fleeting moment.
You look over your shoulder, at the rising street. Anyone could have their windows cracked. Anyone could hear you confess on this porch. Still, you murmur, “I… I want you to make me come, Joel.” Your voice shivers a little bit along with the stroke of wind that wisps against the backs of your thighs.
His brows raise together, now. His head tips forward. “What was that? A little louder. You know, my ears really ain’t the sharpest these days…”
Fucking bastard.
“I want,” you say again, fighting to stop your voice from wavering, to keep it not too loud but not too quiet. “you to make me come.”
Joel sucks on his teeth for a second. “Ohhh. Now I don’t think that’s really fair, hun.” He gives you a mockingly sad look.
“Why?” you ask, and you know you sound as whiny as a petulant child. But he’d been correct earlier. You put in all of this effort, sneaking out for a thrilling night that had turned into something more like two sweaty bodies moving together and only one of them feeling good from it. You want to feel good. You’re tired of looking at the right and the wrong. Joel’s sitting in front of you, his thumb still smelling like your arousal; that’s what’s right.
“You’re out here breakin’ all the rules. Shouldn’t be rewarding you for that, sweetheart. Besides, it’s a little fucked up, dontcha think? Makin’ you come all over me while your pops, my buddy, is none the wiser gettin’ ready for work next door?” His vulgarity only weakens you even more, pussy clenching and begging to be filled. You’re about to protest again when he cuts in, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t help ya out.”
Your heart pedals in your chest, eager and wanting. But Joel, instead of getting up and elbowing you inside like you expect, stays right where he is. He pats one of his splayed thighs, the grin on his face only widening. Your face contorts. Joel hears your question before you ask.
“What? Never humped someone’s leg before? With how much of a bitch in heat you’re actin’ right now, I’m surprised.” You can feel the shock on your face plain as day. Joel jerks his head down to his thigh, egging you on. “Better hurry up if you want my help, sweetheart. Pretty sure your dad’s about to get goin’, and I sure don’t have all day, either.”
The rapidly shrinking part of yourself that isn’t consumed with desire tells you to take a step back. That anyone, God forbid, even the Adlers across the street could witness this. Talk about a free peep show.
You think of the alternative: sneaking back into your house with a hope and a prayer that your dad won’t find you, backpack over your shoulder and shoes on, as you climb the stairs back to your bedroom. Open up your Joel-advised dresser drawer of things your dad says you shouldn’t have and pull out your vibrator. Do the same old hassle of a routine, desperately trying to make yourself come. Reach an unfulfilling peak.
Or… take what Joel’s offering you. Risks and all.
You take a tentative step forward, glaring at Joel when he chuckles because of your hesitance, and plop yourself down on his thigh. The pressure against your clit immediately pulls a whimper from you. His big hands fix themselves on your hips, holding tight, but not too tight as to hold you captive against him. There’s still the faint existence of the Joel you’ve always known, considerate and sweet and all southern gentleman, that exists behind the guise of his dominance. 
You nestle your head into the crook of his neck, breathing heavy against him as you get a slow start to grinding your hips on his thigh. Although your movements are tentative, uncertain in nature, your head is already going fuzzy.
“Bet you’re only this wet cause that boy already put a new load in your dishwasher.” You scoff at him in disbelief — both at how much more wet it gets you, and how foul his words are. He chooses then to jerk you forward by the hips. You cry out as your pussy drags along the thick expanse of his thigh, clit catching on the bunched up fabric of your rumpled shorts.
“Zip it, you fuckin’ hussy. Ain’t a damn soul in this neighborhood that wants to wake up to you sobbin’ while gettin’ off on this thigh.” One of his hands drifts back to squeeze at the flesh of your ass. You hear the spank before you feel it, a sting that echoes and sticks right between your legs. He’s effortlessly strung a barbed wire of humiliation around your body. The lack of power makes your thighs clamp down around his, and you can’t tell if you crave more of it or despise it.
Unable to decide which, you loudly, exaggeratedly moan into his ear, still rocking down on his lap. It resounds through the neighborhood, the springboard roofs ricocheting you coquettish noises down the street and through the flowerbeds. A spooked crow lifts off of the power lines behind you, and you hear it squawk as its wings beat and carry it away.
Joel cocks his head at you, brow raised. “So it’s not just your legs that have a problem stayin’ shut. It’s your nasty mouth, too.” His hands migrate up your sides to your tits, which jostle with every flighty movement across his thigh. Before you know what he’s doing, he tweezes at your nipples in a way that makes you melt into him, forehead falling flat against his neck. And then he lands a hard smack across your chest, pleasure with a bite. Your hips jolt. “Behave for daddy before I make you walk next door draggin’ a snail trail behind ya.”
You know he doesn’t mean your real dad. A new rush of heat settles in your stomach, tightening your cunt from an ache to an insatiable thrumming that only Joel can solve. “Fuck,” you almost shout, but end up muffling into his skin with an open-mouthed kiss. He sighs, adjusting under you. The change in angle on your clit makes you whimper, especially when you feel his hardened length smushed against the outside of your thigh.
Your hand goes down to grip it, to participate in the push and pull, the cat and mouse, but he shakes his head, pulling it out of the way. He holds you by the small of your back, urging you to keep rubbing on him. “You’re lucky I’m even givin’ you my thigh,” he spits. “Ain’t gonna let you play chutes and ladders tryna make me come when I know damn well where that hand was last night.”
“Daddy,” you pout at him, lower lip jutting out.
He only shakes his head. “Don’t start.”
Whining in agitation, you manage to school yourself into behaving like he’d told you to. Every grind of your hips welcomes pleasure, beckons it, activates the porch light inside of you that invites it inside. You go limp against Joel as he guides you back and forth, and even limper when he tightens the muscle underneath your soaking core. Your hands anchor themselves on his broad shoulders, nails carving into his skin through the flimsy material of his shirt. He hisses underneath you, a break in his seemingly titanium resolve. You feel yourself getting closer, heat wreathing around your stomach, cunt clenching.
In your house, the foyer light flickers on.
Your hips stall over Joel’s as you see your dad’s backlit silhouette moving around in the foyer. Likely sliding on his shoes, patting his pockets for his wallet and his work phone…. You have two minutes at best.
Joel’s eyes follow your distracted line of vision. His amused chuckle warms the back of your neck. “Oughta hurry up if you don’t wanna get caught. Your old man would be in for a rude awakening, headin’ to work and finding his precious little girl fuckin’ my leg like a whore,” he murmurs.
He bounces his leg underneath you, and you bite back the needy cry that threatens to slip out. It feels so good, too good for you to think about anything other than the haze of arousal and pleasure that hovers over your head like a perpetual fog. You return to grinding down on him, hips pumping with a greater, renewed speed. “Attagirl,” Joel croons at you, and the hand at the small of your back presses harder, pushing you up and down his thigh.
Short, strained breaths of yours meet the morning air, eyes pinned on the rectangular window. It’s a golden-washed reminder of how wrong this is. Your dad would blow a gasket, see red, breathe fire at you if he knew exactly what was happening just a few feet away from his front yard.
But you forget all about that when Joel’s calloused fingers cup your chin, nudging you to look at him. His eyes are all pupil, darkened with something like starvation, something like want. “Don’t look at him. Look at me,” he coaxes, and he bounces his thigh again.
You’re close, you can feel it. He can feel it, too, in the way that your thighs fasten around his, your cunt rocking on him as your fervor makes the whole front porch shake and shudder. Tossing your hips back and forth, you wanted it, but now? Now you need it. Your stomach tightens, your legs shivering below you as your cunt gushes all over both of your shorts. “That’s it, baby, come on me like you were beggin’ to. ‘S alright, nice and easy for daddy, mhm?” He tenses his thigh one final time, and you lurch over that edge. “Gooood girl,” he hums as your cunt flutters against his leg. “You’re a daredevil, aren’t you?” he asks, jerking his head toward your house.
You figure you must be, after what you just did.
You’d planned on staying there, riding it out and trembling against his warm chest. But the garage cranks open. You jolt off of Joel’s lap, damn near teleporting across the porch with how fast you move. Joel smirks at you, crossing his unfucked leg over his freshly fucked one, where you’d rubbed your cum all over his skin until it’d glistened. The sight warms your stomach all over again, but it doesn’t last – nerves spasm in your ribcage as your dad ducks out into the driveway.
You fumble with your shorts, pulling them down and crossing your hands in front of the obvious stain on the gray fabric. Your dad squints across the yard, cupping a hand over his eyes. “Miller?” He calls your name shortly after, and you straighten. “You’re up early, kiddo.”
You open your mouth, on the precipice of a lie that you know won’t be good. It’ll come out unsteady, dishonest, and uneven. 
Joel points at the package at the foot of his doorstep. “My toolbox got sent to yours,” he explains. “Damn postal. ‘Bout as good as the Boston Post Road these days. But your kid’s got me covered. Raised her right.”
For the second time, Joel Miller covers for you. You have no idea where this leaves you, standing under your dad’s scrutinizing gaze. With your cum cooling and sticking to your folds the same way it’s cooling and sticking to his leg, Joel knows your secret. And he’s keeping it.
Your dad only gives a shallow nod, looking between the two of you. “Well,” he hooks a hand back at his truck. “I gotta head off to work.” He shifts on his feet, this time pointing to you. “And you head back inside, kiddo. Too early for you to be up and movin’.” Of course it is.
You stare at the ground, the pollen and stray leaves below your feet. Finally, you settle on a nod. Shallow and halfhearted, much like his. Your dad, satisfied, retreats back into the garage. You hear the truck engine come to life.
“You heard the man,” Joel says. You tighten your fists, moving to step away, but the way Joel’s eyes glimmer has you loitering. He lowers his voice. “See you soon, daredevil.”
That damned nickname. “How do you know I’ll be back?” you retort under your breath.
He shrugs. “I’m sure there’ll be more… ‘packages’.”
You blame the heat in your body on the rising sun, sweat clinging to the back of your neck as you plod off through the front yard. There’s only one thought in your head as your dad pulls out and you close the garage. Mr. Miller can’t happen again.
Mistake number four: thinking you’re telling the truth.
2K notes · View notes
loafgeto · 4 months
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PLEASE TAKE CARE OF ME
gojo satoru x fem!reader
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synopsis: your boyfriend is sick, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t horny.
contents: fem!reader, explicit language, clingy/needy satoru, suguru’s entrance at the end, NSFW, dirty talk, dry humping(??), cockwarming, unprotected sex, creampie, orgasm, squirting, markings, not proofread
word count: 2.8k
notes: not me being sick at the same time😭😭
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“102.3… gosh, satoru, how did you even get this fever? you were fine yesterday,” you utter speechlessly, observing the number on the thermometer before glancing down at your boyfriend, who’s panting softly while keeping an arm over his eyes. satoru groans, unable to answer since he didn’t even know how he got it himself.
“i-i don’t know..” satoru’s head was aching, and he was burning all over. you draped him in a hoodie and sweats, while the comforter covered his entire lower body. “it’s too hot..” he groans, pushing the collar of the hoodie down to feel some cool air brush against the skin of his neck. satoru indicated that he wants the garment off, but you remove his hand away and sigh.
“you need a lot of rest,” you remind, reaching for the towel damped with tepid water and placing it on his forehead. “there’s several water bottles next to you if you need it, remember you need to stay hydrated. i’ll be making some porridge for you. if you need anything, just holler for me.”
“babyyy, stay here- i don’t need all that,” satoru firmly grasps his hand around your wrist, refraining you from walking away. he was pouting, glassy eyes staring up at you like he’d break any moment. “yes, you do. don’t give me that look,” you furrow your brows as you gently push your arm away.
“won’t you at least give me a kiss?” satoru blurts before you could turn around. you shake your head, patting his face before grinning. “hmm, maybe. but after you eat, i’ll consider it,” you reply, hoping it’d be assuring for him to stay put in his bed.
“fine,” he obliges, sinking back into the mattress and keeping himself warm even when his body was literally trembling and burning. you’d give him a kiss but you wouldn’t want the fever spreading onto you. since tomorrow, there was an important meeting you needed to attend, and getting sick was the last thing on your mind. “good boy,” you decide tease him before quickly slipping away.
“h-hey!” satoru’s body shoots up, eyes following your figure quickly heading towards the door. you stick your tongue out at him, making him realize you were just messing with him so that you could leave. oh gosh, the way you were dressed and how he hadn’t touched you in days was starting to bother him, very intently.
you enter his kitchen, humming a short tune while retrieving the ingredients to make a simple and warm porridge to help with his fever. satoru was barely home, so there never any food stored in his cabinet or fridge. well, that’s the strongest jujutsu sorcerer for you. what’s even more surprising is how he can get sick with a fever like this. strong my ass, you snicker. but all jokes aside, satoru is still a human being after all.
satoru normally his spent time at your place anyway, which is why his home is limited in several things. he had much bigger, luscious, and appealing house than yours, so why wouldn’t he want to be in here all of the time? you even thought about asking to live with him, since you two have been together for three years and it didn’t sound like a bad idea. and you were certain it’d be better since you could easily take care of him like this.
you can hear satoru cough from his room as you bring a pot to the stove. “satoru! do you want some tea and cough medicine?!” you holler to him, waiting for a response to which you didn’t receive. you shrug, deciding to brew tea for him anyway. this wasn’t your first time taking care of satoru while he’s sick— it was just so uncommon that you figured you’d never see the state again. but thankfully you’re still prepared with medicines and other medical supplies for these situations.
after you finished gathering all of the ingredients together, you decide to prepare congee porridge, since it’s simple and refreshing, especially for when you have an illness. with a smile on your face, you began following the directions of cooking the congee just like you remembered.
as you were beginning to cook the congee in the pot, you didn’t even realize the tall figure approaching behind of you. therefore, you couldn’t react in time before satoru wraps his arms around your lower body and pushes himself against your back. his mouth lowers near your neck and ear, making you feel the gentle breeze of his soft breath.
“s-satoru?!” you squeak, almost dropping the spoon you were using to stir the congee. you turn your head slightly, feeling the heat of his body absorbing into your skin, but he seems to be relaxing slightly. “what are you doing? you need to be in bed, now.”
“don’t wanna..” satoru replies in a low voice as his lips gently grazes against your shoulder. his needy touch nearly sends shivers down your spine, but you two couldn’t be doing this, not when he’s sick. “fuck, baby.. i need you.. s’bad.. don’t care if i’m sick.. please..” he whines, pressing himself closer to you.
“‘toru- wait, stop!” you gasp, pushing yourself back so that you wouldn’t counter the hot surface of the stove. you give satoru a firm glare, but he’s too distracted with his own arousal to even notice. “how are.. why are you-? satoru, please, we can’t. you need to go back to bed right now,” you add, sighing in between while trying to nudge him away.
“n-no.. can’t,” satoru groans, pressing his face into your neck. he was panting gently again, trying to inhale your scent and feel up against your soft skin. “‘ve been so needy for you..” he whispers and you can feel his erection poking your ass as he starts grinding his hips slowly.
“sa-satoru, wait-“ you bite your lips, trying to resist yourself. you need to remember that he’s sick, and that he needed all the rest and care he could get in order to feel better. but his clinginess and neediness, his little whines and pants desperately calling and seeking for your touch wasn’t helping at all. satoru could almost feel your hips pushing back against his, making a faint smirk appear on his lips.
“don’t you see that? your body’s already moving for ya, you want it too, don’t you?” satoru whispers, pressing gentle kisses behind your ear and down your neck. “satoru-“ a quiet moan leaves your lip, as you feel one of his hands trail towards your inner thighs.
you do, of course you want it, but you both can’t do it.
“can i put it in, baby? please? i won’t move at all, i promise. just wanna feel your warm pussy around me, please,” satoru begs, the material of his sweats already outlining the size and shape of his aching cock. “n-no.. satoru.. you can do everything else but just don’t put it in,” you reply, glancing at him and he just nods. you couldn’t believe you said yes instead of forcing him back to bed, but you couldn’t resist his short seduction.
satoru bends you over slightly, lifting the skirt of the dress you were wearing and starts grinding his hips slowly against your ass, pressing his bulge into the soaked spot of your panties. you held back your moans, returning your attention to the congee that was barely even cooking. it was hard to make sure the porridge was being cooked properly because of satoru’s movements and the sounds he was making.
“f-fuck.. i can feel how wet you are- ngh- i c-could cum any second,” satoru moans, pushing his head back slightly as his hands grip around the sides of your ass. he starts grinding his hips faster, rubbing his clothed cock against the wet material covering your cunt. he desperately wanted you to cockwarm him, even if his body was already too warm enough to handle. he just couldn’t resist anymore, but he’s got to now that he notices you cooking.
“‘t-toru, please- slow down,” you request, unable to hold your moans as he nudges and roughly grinds himself against your pussy. it felt so damn good, making you aroused as much as he is. “ssshit,” satoru moans, moving his hips faster after you told him to reduce his speed. just how can he slow down when you two are already like this?
“fuck baby- i can’t.. please just let me put it in. please,” satoru begs again, his cock grinding far into you that it was almost pushing through the fabric of your clothes and into your pussy. “please, baby? please take care of me down here too,” he whimpers, pleading in desperation as his fingers start gently tugging the material of your panties.
“okay- fine. you can put it in..” you nod, giving him a short glance and satoru’s face lights up. now, there was no turning back for you. would you regret this later? probably, but at the moment, you didn’t possibly care for the outcomes. “but no moving..”
satoru removes his hoodie before pushing his sweats and tight boxers down, freeing his hard cock that slaps against his lower abs. you bite down on your lower lips, gazing at the sight of your boyfriend’s fat dick about to be stuffed into you. satoru gives his cock several short and slow pumps, spreading his leaked pre-cum against the skin of your ass cheeks before moving your panties to the side and lining himself at your entrance.
he holds the sides of your hips again, groaning and pushing his cock past your folds and deep into your wet cunt. you breathe a short gasp, moaning instantly while your walls clench tightly around his girth. satoru nearly cums because of the sensation and warmth of your hole, and almost starts thrusting— but he remembers that he was just going to put it in, and nothing else.
“i-i still have to cook.. your porridge, satoru-“ you manage to slip out, feeling your gummy walls pulsate around his cock. satoru grunts, grip tightening around your hips as he nods his head. “i know.. but fuck- just keep letting me feel your warm pussy like this,” satoru replies, pushing the rest of his length into you.
your focus on the congee was short when you shift your hips back slightly, feeling satoru’s dick twitch inside as your ass knocks against his pelvic area. it was overbearing to be unable to rock back against him and feel his cock kiss your deepest parts— you’d be opposing your own words. you lower the heat of the stove, almost completely turning it off as you realize you’re probably not going to finish the porridge anytime soon.
“t-thought you said no moving?” satoru huffs, pouting before slightly pushing out and back in. you moan, shaking your head. “i did…” you reply, turning your head around and meeting his gaze. his blue eyes were glistening, full of lust that he was withholding. however, seeing your face was enough for satoru to start thrusting very slowly.
satoru’s sensual grazes against your walls was causing louder moans to stumble from your mouth. you grip around him, sucking in his cock as you can feel him penetrate your deepest parts with his steady motions. you had to turn off the stove completely before satoru pushes you against the kitchen counter, fastening his thrusts.
“n-ngh, satoru- wait-“ you mewl, gripping the edge of the counter as you glance back at his flushed face. but he didn’t even allow you to continue speaking as he hoists one of your thighs, hand tightening the fat and plunging his cock deeper into your cunt. “fuckfuck- you need to slow down-“ you choke out, quite appalled at how satoru even had this much energy in him to fuck you like this. it didn’t matter though, since you’re clearly enjoying it.
“shit baby, i-i wanna fuck your pussy forever. you feel- so damn good,” satoru chants, hips banging into your ass as his pants start becoming heavier. he forgot that he was even sick himself, his neediness for you was overwhelming to the point he thought about nothing except drilling his cock into you like this. “o-oh god, ‘toru- pleasepleaseplease~” you cry out, head falling forward as he ravages your swollen cunt.
“fuck- please forgive me, baby. i can’t hold myself back anymore,” satoru says before lowering his body over yours, arms entirely laced around your waist and lips meeting the skin of your shoulder blades as he’s now pounding into you. you’re both moaning messes, grinding your bodies and feeling each other’s warmth. you can feel satoru’s cock rubbing your g-spot and his heavy balls smack your folds as your arousal starts trickling down your inner thighs.
“sa-satoru~ i’m g’nna cum-“ you whine, pushing your ass back as he’s still thrusting, erratically and sloppy but rough that it’s causing you to reach your orgasm. satoru presses soft kisses on certain areas of your shoulder, bringing one hand down to stroke circles against your clit. the touch was nearly making your eyes roll back, and the contractions of your pussy tighter around him.
“ngh- yes baby, cum on this cock that’s s’needy for you,” satoru whimpers, using his tongue to lick the lobe of your ear. his body was becoming exhausted, but he’s greedy and desires to fill your womb with his thick and warm load. satoru craves the feel of your delicate skin and inner parts of your pussy that’s squeezing him dry, stimulating him to pound you faster.
you squint, the sockets of your eyes welling with hot tears that stream down your face each time you blinked. your fingertips jab into the hard surface of the kitchen counter and your legs become wobbly that it’s nearly difficult to maintain standing. satoru’s mouth kisses and licks each area of your skin that he could find, before gently biting down and nibbling the flesh. it’d probably leave red marks later, but your mind doesn’t necessarily think of the idea as you’re occupied with satoru’s cock still abusing your hole.
after satoru’s each passing hard thrusts, you cum all over him— sensations of pleasure pumping throughout your entire body from your orgasm. your ejaculation squirts on satoru’s thighs and drips to the ground, making your body tremble. satoru cums next, dipping several deep strokes into your cunt and groaning your name as his warm semen milks your womb full.
you both stand there for a long moment, breathing heavily while your bodies are still pressed close together. satoru keeps his cock in you, making sure that none of his cum drips out of you and kisses your neck in a soft manner. “thanks baby.. i feel better now,” he whispers by your ear, his tone enunciating his exhaustion.
“hey- don’t fall asleep on me now! we have to clean up,” you give him a slight glare as his head raises up. satoru pouts, before nodding and stepping back. he slips his cock out, immediately feeling odd with not having you clench around him.
satoru thought of something that nearly sent blood rushing to his dick and he gives you that one stare as you push your dress back over your ass. “can you suck me off?” satoru requests, eyes sparkling with the anticipation of you saying yes.
“no.”
“then what about my kiss?”
“no, satoru. you didn’t even eat the congee,” you reply firmly, feeling yourself quiver as his cum tries to drip out of you. but maybe your next words could encourage something, or not since you two needed to clean up. “go to the bathroom, i’ll meet you there and maybe i’ll give you a kiss.”
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“a-achoo!”
suguru gives you a glance, brows raised as he lifts the folder in his hands between you and him like he’s trying to not catch whatever you have. “bless you. gosh, are you sure you’re okay? you’ve been sneezing so much and it’s only 10 in the morning,” he states.
“i’m fine, suguru. just allergies,” you reply with a shrug, knowing damn well where you’re getting this ‘allergy’ from. of course, suguru was skeptical but nodded his head as you two proceed down the hall.
the meeting was less than 20 minutes, and as suguru was speaking with several of the first year students, you quickly dart to your office and search for a thermometer in your desk.
“101.3,” you read out quietly, blinking several times. but who were you to be surprised?
you: look, i’m sick
you sent the message to satoru, along with a photo attachment of the thermometer that read your body temperature. and not even a minute later, he reads it and replies.
satoru <3: well, guess we should go for another round today then ;)
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LOAFGETO. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.
a/n: pls i want this cold to go away😭😭 if anyone’s sick rn, i hope you feel better quick <3 (likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! have a nice day)
1K notes · View notes
straykeedz · 5 months
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day 17: bang chan + bulge kink
©straykeedz
tw: female anatomy; oral sex (f receiving); protected piv sex; dirty talk??; ♡
wc: 2,3k;
this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡
🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡
to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡
smut below the cut, minors dni.
You never thought a date with a man you’d met online could go that well. 
But a certain Chris somehow proved you wrong, and now you’re absolutely whipped for him. He feels the same way about you, so you decided to make things exclusive pretty quickly, and have been seeing each other for nearly a month now. The two of you get along really well, the chemistry is definitely there and you can’t keep your hands off each other every time you’re together - making out and touching each other, not in a sexual way tho, you haven’t gone that far yet.
However, tonight you just had your fifth date and you’re now about to do something you never do.
See, you have a rule: you don’t sleep with a man until the tenth date. To somebody, it may sound like a stupid and useless rule, but you’ve never been one who only looks for fun in relationship. You don’t judge who only goes out with people for fun, it’s just not something you can do. You tried hooking up with a couple of guys, but soon found out it’s not your thing, and that in order to be satisfied in bed you need to develop a proper emotional connection with that person. 
So what the hell were you doing on that stupid dating app? Easy - your friend had practically begged you to download it and try meeting somebody there since it’d been ages since you’d last gone out with somebody. 
You did it - for her. And you were pretty skeptical about it, because meeting strangers online is not something you’d usually do. But somehow you ended up meeting Chris - and it changed your life. 
But back to that tenth-date-rule. You now find yourself about to break it, and you’re blaming Chris for that.
Yes, because he looked so fucking sexy on the day you had and you just couldn’t stop thinking of how bad you wanted him to bend you over the next surface and fuck you senseless, or how banter you wanted o just kneel down before him, unzip his pants and suck him dry. And he was not even wearing a sexy outfit or had hinted at something racy or anything - the man was just innocently standing there, in front of the aquarium, explaining something about jellyfish to you and you were staring at him while all kinds of dirty, filthy thoughts involving him were flowing in your mind. 
All you kept doing was stare at his fingers, then his veiny hands, then his wrists, then his strong, muscular arms and suddenly, you were wet. The rest of your date went on like this - him explaining everything about this and that species of fish, and you thinking of him pressing your body against the next fish tank, unbuckling his skinny jeans, lifting your dress, pulling your panties to the side and, finally, entering you. 
When he drove you home and walked you to the door of your place, you decided you just had had enough of being good and following the rules, tonight you wanted - no, you needed to be reckless. 
So, you pulled him in for a hot, passionate kiss, and you now find yourself under him on your bed. His body hovers over yours, lips still pressed together, only pulling away from each other when you have to remove your sweater first, then his. And then, when he unbuckles his pants and slides them off his thighs together with his boxers, you notice it. And it’s big, probably bigger than any guy you’ve been with, and it kinda intimidates you. 
“What’s wrong?” Chris asks, noticing your wide eyes and slightly panicked expression, worried he might’ve done something wrong. 
“Nothing, it’s just…”
“Just?”, he encourages you. 
“You’re big.”, you admit, blushing a little. 
“Oh.”, he looks flustered too, glancing down at his own cock, which looks painfully hard. “It’s not that big.”
It’s not that big, says the guy with an eight-inches dick that’s about to split you in half. You’re about to say something when Chris suddenly lies down on his tummy, right between your parted legs, and you forget what you wanted to say in the first place. 
“Can I take them off?”, he asks, looking at you with big, lustful eyes, fingers brushing the soft fabric of your underwear, making you shiver. 
You nod, and he hooks his fingers on your panties before sliding them off your thighs. You’re feeling kind of embarrassed of being exposed like that in front of Chris, and he seems to notice it immediately. 
“We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”, he reassures you, caressing your inner thigh with the pad of his thumb. “Okay?”, he gives you a warm smile. 
“No, I- I want this.”, you say, propping yourself on your elbows to look him in the eye. You want him to believe you, because it’s the truth. “I promise.”
Chris doesn’t say anything else, he simply licks a long stripe on your pussy and hums as soon as your taste invades his mouth. It’s intoxicating in the best way possible, and if it were for him - he’d never stop. He laps at your clit repeatedly, expertly, occasionally flicking it with his fingers with delicacy - after all, it’s the first time you’re sleeping together, and he has to experiment a little in order to find out what you like. 
“Can you…” you let out a shaky breath. “Use your fingers, too?”, you ask him, cheeks flushing red. 
“Inside?”, he asks, kissing your clit. 
“No, just - put them on my clit like this.”, you shape a ‘v’ with your fingers.
You’re not used to telling men what you like in bed, but Chris is not men. He nods, then places his digits on your pussy, just like you asked, clit beautifully placed between his index and pointer finger. He spits on your clit to lubricate the whole zone, then attaches his plump lips back on your clit, gently moving his fingers at the same time, providing further stimulation, especially when he delicately squeezes it between his digits. 
Chris seems to be naturally skilled at eating pussy, because he makes you cum in record time with a combination of kisses and sucks on your clit and the movements of his fingers, which has you tugging at his hair and practically pushing his whole face against your pussy as you ride out your orgasm. 
You let your body fall back on the mattress as you pant, releasing the grip you have on his hair. “Shit- sorry, did I hurt you?”, you ask, propping yourself on your elbows once again, scared that you might’ve unintentionally pulled his hair too strongly. 
He shakes his head as a no, then licks his lips, savoring the way you taste, then wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “No, you didn’t. In fact, it was really fucking hot.”
“Now it’s your turn.”, you reach for his hard cock, but when you wrap your fingers around it, giving it a couple of slow strokes that have Chris biting his lip and kicking his head back. “Although…” you suddenly stops your movements, and Chris snaps his head in your direction, looking at you “I’d love it if you came while inside of me.”
Chris blinks a couple of time before his brain finally registers what you’re asking him. Once he processes your words, he nods frantically, climbing off the bed only to pick his skinny jeans up from the floor, taking his wallet out of one of the back pockets, eventually fishing a condom from it. Then, he’s back on the bed. 
“You know, you really shouldn’t keep your condoms in your wallet.”
“I promise it hasn’t been there long. I put it there today.”, he admits, cheeks slightly blushing at the implication of his words. 
“Oh, so you were hoping to get laid?”, you chuckle, but he can see you’re not really offended by the situation. 
“Not hoping, but you know…”, he says while unwrapping the rubber, rolling it onto his length swiftly. “Better to be safe than sorry.” He’s got a point. 
He positions himself between your spread legs and aligns the tip of his cock at your entrance. Then, he spits on his fingers and spreads his saliva all over your pussy to make sure you’re wet enough to take him - little does Chris know you’ve been wet since he picked you up four hours ago. 
“Tell me when you’re ready.”, he tells you, rubbing soft circles on your knee with his thumb. 
“Ready.”, you tell him immediately, and he chuckles - he’s just as whipped for you as you are for him. 
When he pushes inside - the stretch is insanely good and it doesn’t hurt, even though he didn’t use his fingers to stretch you out before entering you. It’s thick and long, and it feels so big inside of you it makes your head spin. It takes a while for him to bottom out completely, mostly because he’s pushing him at an excruciatingly slow pace to make sure not to hurt you - all while rubbing soft circles on your clit. 
Then, once he’s fully inside of you, he lets his body fall on top of yours - chests pressing together as he balances himself using his elbows. He kisses you on the lips as he gives one tentative thrust  inside of you, testing the waters. You moan against his mouth, taking in the feeling of having him inside of you - a feeling that’s overwhelming in the best way possible, and you don’t want it to stop. 
The first thrusts are slow and precise, letting you adjust to his size, and the angle is just right, hitting all the right places with each movement. Then, he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts all while kissing the corner of your mouth, or your neck, or your collarbone. Kisses, kisses everywhere, combined with his fingers gently caressing your hair and scalp as he snaps his hips against yours quicker now. 
“So good to me.”, he whispers words of praise in your ear, letting out a choked whimper when your hand squeezes the flesh of his ass as he moves inside of you. “You feel perfect around me.”
You believe him, because he does feel perfect around you, too, and you can’t believe you almost missed out on all of this because of that stupid rule. 
“And you feel perfect inside of me.”, you moan. “So deep. Look.”, you intertwine your fingers with his, then drag his hand all over your body, placing it on your abdomen. 
He’s confused at first, but then he feels it. He feels himself. Inside of you. The tip of his cock right below your belly button, moving inside of you. His eyes widen, and he pulls away from you abruptly, but it’s just because he wants to witness it with his eyes.
He continues to fuck you, only this time he’s kneeling between your legs to get a better look of how his cock moves in and out of you. He’s mesmerized by the view, a tiny bulge appearing on the soft, delicate surface of your belly - shaped just like the tip of his cock, making his head spin. He brushes it with the pads of his fingers, feeling himself inside of you, moving slowly, and then halting his thrusts completely. His dick throbs inside of you, and he can see it reflected on how the bulge moves. 
“Do you like it?”, you ask, your voice soft as your knuckles caress his forearm. 
Like it would be an understatement. “I love it.”, he whimpers, and it makes your stomach do a flip. Then, he does the same thing you’d done a couple of minutes before. He takes your hand and places it on your belly, letting your palm lie flat on your skin as he thrusts deep inside of you, allowing you to feel every inch of him sinking in your hole. “Tell me you like it too.”, he moans, and he sounds absolutely desperate and close to his release. You are too. 
“I do.”, you pant, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist, keeping your hand on your tummy. “I do so fucking much. You’re fucking me so well, Chris, I’m so close.”, at this point you’re just rambling, incoherent words falling from your lips as your toes begin to curl. 
“Y-Yeah?”, he whimpers, hissing as he kicks his head back and breathes through his nose, snapping his hips against yours until wet sound start filling the room. “You like my big cock stretching you out? Like it when you feel it in your tummy, baby?”
You can’t believe this is the first time you’re fucking this man - the chemistry feels unreal. 
“I do, I do.”, you whimper, your orgasm is so close your toes are already beginning to curl. “So close, Chris, so close.”
“Fuck, cum for me, baby, please.”
As soon as he feel you clench around him, his orgasm washes all over him too, cock throbbing inside of you and he places his own hand next to yours, wanting to feel himself emptying into the rubber, even if it’s from the outside. It doesn’t matter, the thought drives him wild. He keeps his hand there until he feels his cock start to get limp, and then he’s quick to pull out our you, careful to hold the base of his cock. Then, he takes the rubber off and throws it in the trash can in your room and climbs back on the bed to lie down next to you. 
And as you try to regain your breaths, cuddled up next to each other, you can’t help but think that you really need to thank your friend for making you download that stupid app. 
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obsessedelusional · 1 year
Text
Your Pretend Boyfriend
paring ✦ Eddie Munson x reader
summary ✦ You back from college, visiting during thanksgiving break. Jason Carver has always liked you the feelings not mutual. So when you catch him harassing Eddie you pretend to be his girlfriend. What happens with your pretend boyfriend? CONTAINS SMUT
word count ✦ 3,200ish
authors note ✦ BRO I’m almost to 300 followers and 5000+ likes omg y’all are tooooo sweeet to me hope y’all enjoy this
masterlist ✦ PART TWO
FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!
⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹
The sound of your someone calling for you takes your gaze away from your phone. Looking up expecting to see your best friend. The two of you had plans to meet at this restaurant to catch up. You were in town visiting during thanksgiving break.
To your dissatisfaction it’s none other than Jason Carver. You groan annoyed knowing where this was headed. You’re parents were close and they always rooted for the two of you to end up together. Not a single part of you wanted anything to do with him. He was a few years younger than you. Also the worst human being on planet earth.
“You visiting for break?” He smiles leaning on the wall where you’re standing.
“Yup.” You say with no emotions, giving your full attention on your phone. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of giving him any attention.
“What brings you here?”
“Meeting someone.” You answer eyes still on your phone, scrolling on something random. Pretending to be busy.
“Who?” He ask curiously.
“Can we skip to the part where you say something nasty, I tell you to fuck off and then you leave me alone?” You spit out, disregarding his previous question.
“We should hookup while your in town, give you some good ol dickin’ down. I’m sure those college boys can’t fuck you like I would.” There it is.
“For the millionth time that will never happen.” You respond, desperately waiting for your friend to arrive.
“Sheesh have you’ve always been such a bitch?” He laughs. When you don’t respond Jason walks off deflated.
You pray that is the end of that. Only for him to find his next victim. A curly headed boy you definitely remember, Eddie. It’d be hard to forget someone like him. Jason hated him, for whatever reason which made you gravitate towards him. You two were never all that close only exchanging hellos in the hallways. Occasionally bonding over your hatred of Jason. More than once telling Jason to leave their group alone.
Just as your deep in thought, thinking about Munson your phone dings. It’s the friend you were waiting for, she’s canceling on you. Her two year olds sick and can’t make it. You sigh out loud annoyed but understanding, typing a quick response.
You’re attention goes back to Eddie and Jason. Eddie was sat by himself, probably waiting for someone. Jason is giving him shit for being at a restaurant all by himself. It crosses your mind for a second and before you can realize how bad this idea is your on your way to Eddie’s table.
“Hey babe,” You smile greeting Eddie, confusion immediately spreads across his face. You mouth ‘just go along with it’ as you sit down next to him, careful so Jason doesn’t see. You plant a small kiss on his cheek, his confusion turns to a grin.
“Hey princess,” His arm slings around your shoulder. The pet name sends a heat through your body, you quickly push that away. You look up to Jason who’s slack-jawed.
“There’s no fucking way.” He whines.
“What?” You ask playing dumb.
“There’s no fucking way you two are dating.” Jason responds.
“We’ve been dating for six months, right babe?” You ask nuzzling yourself deeper into Eddie’s embrace.
“Almost seven.” He smiles, proudly.
“We actually have you to thank for that. Bumped into each other, bonded over our dislike for you. Been inseparable since.” You laugh because Jason looks pissed making this so worth it. He goes to speak but can’t get anything out, obviously frustrated.
“We’re gonna have a quick little lunch. Then head back to his place so he can give a good ol dickn’ down. That’s what you called it right?” You watch as Jason’s eyes go wide, full of pure disgust before running out of the restaurant. Once he’s out of hearing range you start erupting out in laughter, Eddie joining you.
“That was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so speechless.” Eddie talks catching his breath from laughing so hard.
“I can’t stand him. He’s been up my ass for as long as I can remember. Saw the opportunity and took it.” You respond, looking over to Eddie’s who’s arm still rests on your shoulder. He notices you noticing and pulls away.
“You don’t have an actual girlfriend right? Otherwise this’d be kinda awkward.” You ask.
“Yeah actually I do.” Unknowingly your face falls, upset that he does.
“We met six months ago been inseparable since.” He teases, you roll your eyes realizing what he means. A silence falls over you two and you can’t help but feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome.
“I’ll leave you be. Thanks for participating in my antics.” You smile standing up from the table.
“I just got myself a girlfriend I ain’t letting you so quick.” You turn to face Eddie.
“We’ve been dating for all of five minutes and it’s the best relationship I’ve ever had.” He smiles, motioning for you to sit back down. Your intrigued so you sit down, this time on the other side of the booth.
“Are you sure? Someone’s not gonna show up and be upset I’m here?” You ask, seriously not wanting to impose.
“Don’t worry about it. Plans canceled.” He shoots you a smile before pulling his phone out, typing away for a moment.
“You really don’t have to do that.”
“Hang out with my beautiful older college girlfriend? Whom I only see during school breaks. Or hangout with my friends I see everyday at school? Uhhhh I think I’ll choose my girlfriend.” His words bring a cheesy grin to your lips.
“Okay I guess I can stay and enjoy lunch with my boyfriend.” You sigh, pretending like it’s an inconvenience for you. In reality your happy, your plans fell through and now your sat across from a long haired tatted hottie.
“How old are you? Not trying to catch a case.” You tease almost positive he’s of legal age. Better safe then sorry.
“19.” He responds between laughing at your joke.
Lunch with Eddie was amazing, part of you grateful your friend canceled on you last minute. You feel an instant connection, not wanting the date to end quite yet. The two of you are walking out of the restaurant, hand in hand. Your brain scrambling for an excuse to prolong this date.
“So what was that comment you made about a good ol dickin’ down about?” Eddie asks and almost immediately it’s like a light bulb goes off your head.
“Jason’s been trying to make the moves on me since forever. Just before I joined my boyfriend our date he offered to do that me.” You laugh, you’re not sure where you two are headed just following Eddie’s lead.
“You and Jason, you never?”
“Never ever.”
“That’s crazy. I remember rumors went around about the two of you dating all the time.” He says, processing this new information. Jason Carver wanted you yet you were her with Eddie. He was excited by that thought but at the same time puzzled.
“Started by him. He made my high school experience hell.” You admit.
“Same here.” He sighs, you two reaching his van. Realizing this is where the date either continues or ends.
“Should we keep our story going?” You ask. Noticing Jason sat in his car with his friends, he’s watching the two of you. If he wants to watch, you’d give him a show. Mostly for own selfish desires.
“What?” He asks so you nod in the direction of Jason car full of jocks, watching Eddie’s gaze move from you to them.
“I told Jason we’d have a little lunch and then go your place where’d you give me a good ol dickin’ down.” You cringe at the usage of Jason’s phrase. Eddie’s attention whips back to you because of the words coming from your mouth.
“Gotta make it believable, right?”
“Yeah.” He says. Eddie is hesitant not because he doesn’t want to but because he can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic. You push him towards his van, his back hitting it makes a loud thud. If they weren’t looking they are now.
You get closer, closing the gap between you two. Reaching for his hair, running your fingers through it. You had been wanting to do this since you sat at his table. Wishing he’d call you princess again.
“Is this okay?” You ask to which Eddie nods eagerly. Without missing a beat you kiss him. Softly at first, testing the waters. Eddie melts into your touch, his hand reaching around sliding his hands in your butt pockets. He pulls you closer into him, squeezing your ass in the process. Causing you to let out a little gasp surprised by his bravery. He smiles mid kiss only making you want more. The kisses becoming more aggressive, the wetness starting to pool in your panties.
“Get a fucking room, freaks!” Jason yells and then the sound of tires screeching past you two startles you momentarily. You pull away, grinning. Eddie’s eyes are closed, the biggest smile on his face.
“Still don’t think it’s believable enough.” You say, sighing your tone suggestive.
“Really?” Eddie asks, sounding confused.
You roll your eyes, “Your beautiful older college girlfriend wants a good ol dickn’ down.”
“You.. want me to-” He stutters, stopping before you finish for him.
“I want you to fuck me.” His dick twitches in his jeans because of the six words that came out of your mouth.
“Do you want that?” You ask.
“Yes.” He gulps, excited for what’s coming. Hopefully him soon. He opens the car door for you, you climb inside disregarding the fact that you drove yourself here. Your horny brain fogging your mind deciding in the moment you’d figure it out later.
This wasn’t like you, you never hooked up with someone so shortly after getting to know them. You couldn’t help but feel like something about this situation was different. Eddie was different, like a good different.
It’s a very short but also painfully long drive to his home. Eddie’s never been so thankful for his uncle to be out of town, couldn’t of picked a better time to leave him home alone. The drive is mostly silent, filled with music and stealing glances at each other.
As soon as Eddie parks at his home he’s out of the car running to your door, letting you out. He grabs your hand leading you to the front door. Where he struggles for a few moments to find the right key. Once inside, he shuts the door behind you before facing you. His hands press firmly on your ass to lift you, your legs straddling his body. This time he’s the one to initiate the kiss, carrying you to wherever. You didn’t care as long as Eddie was there.
For a moment your startled when he drops you on his bed. Your allowed a quick glance around his room, taking it in before you look up to see Eddie. He’s shirtless now and his shoes are missing. So you follows in his steps ripping your shoes off. When you go to take your shirt off he stops you with a intense kiss before doing it himself, then unhooks you bra exposing your bare chest.
He pulls away to take in the view, “Fuck you’re beautiful.”
Eddie smashes his lips on yours pushing you back into the bed before kissing down you neck only to stop at your nipple. The sensation is enough for you to let out a sweet moan slightly arching you back into him. Mouth still attached to you while his hands are busy unbuttoning your pants, pulling them down quickly along with your panties.
You curse your self for not wearing something sexier but you had no idea this where’d you be today. Part of you embarrassed you haven’t shaved in a while. Your worries are immediately put at ease when he spreads your thighs, letting his head rest between them.
“Beautiful.” Her murmurs before placing a sugary kiss on your clit, sending a shockwave through your body. His tongue begins rubbing against your bud. Without thinking your hands find his hair, pushing him deeper between your folds. Your head falls back, moans leaving you lips. When you think it can’t get any better, he slips a long strong finger in your pussy. Pumping into you the same pace as his tongue that is still toying with your clit.
“More please-“ You whine and Eddie listens adding another finger, stretching you out. Your a mess under his touch. Never once has a man prioritized your pleasure. You’ve become masterful at giving yourself orgasms. The feeling of it being at the hands of someone else unfamiliar. A good unfamiliarity.
“Fuckk- Eddie I’m..” Your words turn into strangled moans, a tightness growing in your stomach. Your breath hitches as you pulsate on his thick fingers, your eyes rolling back as you come undone. Your busy riding out your high but the feeling of his fingers leaving you brings you back down to reality. His laps up your juices one last time before speaking.
“Mm so sweet.” Eddie purrs sucking on his own two fingers that were covered in your juices. They leave his mouth with a popping sound as he sits up in the bed.
“My turn.” You say barley audible sitting up reaching for the button on his jeans. Wanting nothing more than to wrap your lips around his cock. He stops your hands causing you to look up to Eddie, you cant help but pout.
“I don’t think I’ll last long with your pretty lips sucking me off right now. Next time, okay?” You nod smiling at the thought there’d be a next time. Eddie kisses you pushing your head back onto the bed. Only pulling away to pull his pants off and grab a condom from his bed side table. You watch intently as his pulls down his boxers, revealing his cock. You let out a gasp as it hits his stomach, never once had you seen one this big. Eddie smiles at your reaction while unwrapping the condom. Slowly rolling it over the tip of his dick and down the entirety of his hard length.
Eddie gets back on top of you, spreading your legs. He lets the tip rest on you swollen clit before dragging it down to your hole. Slowly, inch by inch you adjust to his size. He bottoms out, you let out a whimper because you’ve never felt fuller. He uses his hands to lift your thighs up so he can get better angle before starting a slow motion. Pumping in and out of you at a painfully slow pace, only making you desperate for him to pick up the pace.
He leans down to your level, his head resting in the crook of your neck. Your chest being flattened by his. One hand rests at the back of his neck, tightening in his hair and the other hands digs into his back as he bucks his hip harder into you. He’s thrusting harder but you desperately need him faster.
“Faster- please.” You say and it comes out as a whine. You get exactly what you want because he pushed up so he can see you before recklessly pounding into you cunt faster than before. He guides your hands so you can hold your own legs up, using his free hand to find your clit running circles around it sloppily.
“How does that feel princess?” He grunts between thrusts, his finger still playing with your bud. You can’t help but smile at the pet name. He finally said it again. When you don’t respond he rocks his hips harder and you start feeling that tightening in your stomach again.
“Fuck.” You cry out, knowing you’re about to cum for the second time. The sensation of your pussy throbbing on his cock as you get closer to finishing nearly sends him over the edge but he’s determined to make you cum again. His fingers work more tactically on your clit which is just enough to have you gushing on his dick.
“Good girl.” He groans. Not even a second later he’s cumming inside the condom, inside you. Suddenly wishing that thin little layer of latex wasn’t there so you could feel his seed coat your inner walls. He kisses you sweetly one last time before pulling out and falling next to you. His chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath. You rest on his chest, listening to his heart beat.
“Was that believable?” He asks, out of breath.
“What?” You ask confused to drunk on dick to comprehend.
“Was that a good ol dickin’ down?” He laughs. You roll your eyes before nodding your head, yes.
The next two weeks we’re spent under and on top of Eddie Munson any chance you got. Dreading the fact that when break came to an end you’d have to head back to school. It was a three hour drive from Hakwins. You just got Eddie and couldn’t imagine having to let go so soon.
Eddie was so grateful Wayne left for the two weeks during thanksgiving break. He had a whole two weeks of uninterrupted time with you. He tried hard no to think about the fact you’d be leaving him in a short time. If he thought about it too much he’d upset himself, usually pushing the thoughts away focusing on the time he did have with you. So to say he was surprised when you invited him to have thanksgiving dinner with your family would be an understatement.
When you found out Eddie would be spending thanksgiving day alone you didn’t hesitate to invite him. Your heart felt for him when he admitted he never really celebrated holidays with Wayne always working. You were determined to make it perfect.
Explaining to you parents why this random dude was coming over on thanksgiving dinner was the hardest part. Only for Eddie to introduce him self as your boyfriend of seven months. They look at you like ‘what the fuck’ to which only caused you to laugh. Cursing yourself for not get your stories straight. More than happy to continue the bit but wished you could of prepared better.
“So how’d you two meet them?” Your father asks curiously. You both say different answers. You blurt out high school and he says you two met at a restaurant.
“We’ll we went to high school together, knew of each other. Ran into each other at Danny’s Dinner and hit it off.” You explain further, their faces telling that they don’t believe anything coming out of your mouth. They never question any further, thankfully.
Todays the dreaded day. The day you leave for college. You had already said your goodbyes to your family. Deciding what time you had left would be spent with Eddie. The two of you had just finished fucking for possibly the last time. Your brain had been heavily worried about what would happen when you left. It’s now or never, you need to ask him.
“I’m gonna miss you.” Eddie sighs. You sit up to face him, he’s laid in bed looking at the roof.
“I’ll miss you too. What are we doing?” You ask, trying to read his reaction. He looks at you with a smile.
“I don’t know about you but I’ve been faithfully committed to you for the last seven months.” He teases.
“I’m being serious Eddie.” You groan.
“Me too, princess.”
“So we are-?” You start to ask and he interrupts.
“Yes we are. Your all mine.” He kisses you.
“All yours.” You melt into his kiss, fucking one more time.
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courtingchaos · 6 months
Text
Collared
Eddie Munson x Fem Reader
Freak Like Me
A/N: Just take this. I looked at it for too long and I hate it now. Also, this is for every emo from the early 2000’s who ironically wore a collar in high school and did some real damage to their future selves, aka You Gave Yourself a Kink You Big Idiot.
18+ NSFW No Minors
“Oh my god.”
“What?”
You stare into the box of childhood knickknacks at your feet and Eddie leans out of the closet to see what you’ve found. It dangles off of your index finger and your eyebrows raise high on your forehead.
“I had no idea you were into this.”
“Oh shut up, I wore it high school a few times.” He waves a hand at you to dismiss your grin.
“A leather collar?”
“I stole it from the mall.”
“Oh I bet you did.” You spin the black collar around your finger, metal o-ring attached to the front clinking on every go around. “What, from Hot Topic?”
“No, an actual sex shop. Jeff dared me to and then I thought it’d be funny if I put it on myself.” Eddie shrugs and tosses another handful of clothes behind him. “Some kind of stupid message about ‘being my own animal’.” He rolls his eyes and laughs at himself. “God I was real fuckin’ dumb.”
“No, just a kid.”
“I was 19.”
Your lips disappear between your teeth to stifle your laugh and Eddie rolls his wrist at you, telling you to get it over with. Your laugh follows him back into the closet where he also starts giggling at his past fashion choices.
He can hear you playing with it from the bathroom, the soft clinking muffled by the bed sheets. “Having fun with that?”
“Do you think it still fits?”
He spits in the sink and rinses off his toothbrush with a sigh. “Maybe? Why, wanna put me on a leash?”
Your silence is deafening.
“You do, don’t you?” He slowly walks down the short hallway separating the bathroom from the bedroom and leans on the corner of the wall, a slow rise of his hand to point at you accusingly. “Pervert.” He whispers at you through a wide grin.
“Like you’ve never thought about it.” You try it around your own neck for show and he wiggles his eyebrows at you. When you gesture it at him he pretends to be offended and turns on the dramatics.
“You just want to control me, just like The Man!” He hops on the bed and climbs up your legs to hover over you. “Well go on then.” He rests his weight on one hand and pulls his hair up in his fists. “Collar me if you must.” His head hangs while you giggle at his antics. Your fingers are light on his neck while you loop the scratchy leather around and he’s reminded why he stopped wearing it after a few weeks. You do up the small buckle on the back and run two fingers along the inside to make sure it isn’t choking him.
“Good fit?” He says down at your knees that pull together briefly. Those same two fingers lift his chin gently past your eye line so you can look at his neck.
“You look very handsome.”
Eddie pushes your hand away so he can lean in for a kiss. The soft clinking around his neck sounds funny in the quiet of your bedroom but he ignores it, right up until you give it a tug when he tries to sit up.
“Where are you goin’?” You ask against the kiss, your teeth nipping at his bottom lip. You follow him back until he has to kick his legs out from under him and then you’re pressing him against the comforter. You don’t break the kiss even when he laughs at you pulling at his shirt or when he tries to ask you what you’re doing. When the cotton gets bunched up under his chin you huff and pull back and he yanks the thin t-shirt off.
It doesn’t take long to loose the sleep clothes you both just put on, warm skin soft against each other when you straddle his thighs.
“This just gives me something to hang on to.” You use the metal ring as slight leverage when you scoot up to sit against his already hard cock. “Keep you right underneath me.”
“Oh?” He shifts his hips to try and get you to move but you just keep smiling at him.
“I think I’d like you in this more often actually.” A quick peck that he’s trying to chase until you pull on the ring again. “How’d you feel about that?”
“I feel great about that but I’d feel even better if you’d slide back just a bit-“
You were already reaching down to help guide him in, a long ‘oh’ pushing out of his chest when you sit back on his hips.
“Like that?” One quick lift just to land back against him, his eyes closing momentarily.
“Yeah, you like that.” You flex around him and rock lightly enjoying the slight friction you get against your growing ache. He lets his hands fall over his head, leaving you free to roam his torso and pull at the collar. It rubs the back of his neck a little wrong but there’s a twitch of your lips every time he lets out a breathy moan that he doesn’t want going away. Wet kisses fall on his chest and over his collarbones, teeth following to nip at the thin skin along the collar.
Everything you’re doing is in slow motion from the drag of your mouth to the random lifting of your hips. He’s stuck under you, frustrated at your speed but trying to revel in the wet drag of your cunt.
“You should let me be in charge more often.”
“Oh?” It comes out breathier than he intended.
“I think you like it.” Slow, deliberate rolls of your hips. “Just getting to lay there and look pretty.”
“Pretty?”
“Yeah, got a problem with that?”
The rhythmic tugging on the back of his neck when you rock back has him feeling fuzzy, thoughts a little slow and words even slower.
“No.” He sounds tipsy and you grin at him, a groan pushing through your heavy breaths. His hands wander from your hips to your thighs, thick fingers digging into the soft meat of your ass when you pulse around him. Your head falls back as you grind down and catch your clit on the coarse hair just above his cock, a slow spread of warmth creeping up your hips.
“Doing so good for me.” You shudder and roll inward, grip tightening on the ring. “Letting me use you like this.” A smile that turns into a pleasured frown just as your hips start to loose their slow rhythm and Eddie takes his chance.
He needs control, can’t take your slow bouncing and you’re cooing down at him anymore. He grabs you under your thighs and rolls you quick so he can press your knees up almost into your chest. Your surprise is caught in your throat when he lays into you and sets a fast pace, fingers digging into the backs of your knees.
“Oh fuck-“
“Takin’ too long.” He pants. The feeling of the leather against his neck starting to annoy him and he growls at you. “Take it off.”
“No, I like it.” Quickly defiant your hand snakes up between your chests and rehooks on the o-ring, yanking his face closer to yours. His thrusts stutter as your eyes flick between his.
“Be a good boy.”
He pauses for a second, eyes unfocused when he looks down at you. He nods slowly and you mimic him, a smile growing wide on your face. “You like that too?”
“Uh huh.” It’s all breath while he stares at you. You pull again, slight but determined and his hands slip from your slick knees to the mattress.
“You gonna be good Eddie?”
His eyes roll in his skull and he keeps nodding, hips picking up pace against your ass. “So good.”
“Yeah?”
He knows he’s hitting deep when your voice catches on your question and your knees draw up against his sweaty chest. Your fingers tighten around the ring and your mouth hangs open on a gasp.
“You gonna make me cum?” Your other hand is already wedged between you to rub fast circles on your clit and you clench down on his cock, one ripple after another when you hit your stride. He’d like to, really he would, but if you keep this up he isn’t going to last, not with you pulling him around by his neck and holding him deep inside.
“Oh fuckfuckfuck.” A particularly deep roll of his hips has him loosing rhythm that turns into full on rutting and your breath in his ear. You stutter against his cheek and pull him down into your neck, you’re repeated ‘right there!’ making him forget everything but making you feel good. A high whine is his only warning before you tense up and draw his face down into your neck, the constant fluttering of your cunt pushing him into oblivion.
He drops his weight on you, pinning your legs between you two and his open mouth turns to love bites along your juglar while you both ride out your highs. His heavy breaths over your spit slick skin sends a shiver down your spine and straight to your core, another hit against your ebbing orgasm.
“I think,” he reaches up behind his head to undo the collar “if we’re gonna get into this kind of thing, I should invest in something that isn’t almost 20 years old.” There’s a raw spot where the rough edge of the leather scraped against his skin. “I deserve something soft, don’t you think?” He places a kiss on the top of your breast and you laugh lightly. Your hands grasp at the back of his neck to sooth, fingers inching up into his hair to scratch, and he starts to melt into you.
“I do.” You’re still doing that voice that drove him crazy earlier and he entertains another round before you deal your mind melting blow. “Good boys deserve very nice things.”
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eneiyri · 4 months
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i don't want you to go to bed, mad at me
pairing: jake x reader word count: 2.2k type: angst, fluff. synopsis: in the middle of an argument, you want to go to sleep— but jake refuses for either of you to go to bed feeling mad at one another. warnings: slight arguing, mentions of breaking up, jake being the sweetest guy he is, there’s no specific mention of the reason why the argument started, overthinking, reassurance, comfort, lmk if there’s more i shld add
make sure to listen to this song as you read. it is the song that the story is based on. [ mad by ne-yo ] (rlly sets the mood, ngl)
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Before you and Jake started dating, there has always been one established rule that the both of you agreed on. Never go to bed mad at the other. Always resolve and communicate about your problems before going to sleep. Never leave it for the next day.
It remained consistent, until tonight. For the first time in your four-year-long relationship, you think you can’t follow that rule as the millionth yawn leaves your lips in the middle of an argument.
Jake sat on the couch; his face buried in his hands as he heaved a sigh again. No words were shared, and the silence between the both of you was deafening. After yelling over each other for nearly 20 minutes straight, you figured it was stupid to open your mouth again— knowing it’d lead to another screaming match.
Seated on the other couch, you found yourself fidgeting with the bracelet on your wrist. “This isn’t working, we’re going back and forth.” You tell him, tone different from the one you used earlier. He looks at you, shoulders slumping. “Well, if you’d just listen to me, we would be done with this.”
“Jake, you won’t even listen to me.” Tightness is evident in your eyes and voice as you look at him. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “This is so stupid.” He muttered under his breath, and you could barely hear it. But you do.
“Well, I’m sorry if it’s so stupid, maybe, just like you said— if we weren’t trying to scream over each other, this would’ve been done an hour ago.” You tell him, trying to fight your drowsiness.
Jake looks at you when you say that, taking in the tone of your voice. Before he could open his mouth to speak, you rose from your seat on the couch, crossing your arms. “I’m going to bed,” You announce, the words leaving your mouth causing a small trigger of panic in your lover's mind.
“Y/n,” He gets up as well, trying to get you to look at him— not liking where this is going. You look down at your hands, “We both are tired. As much as I want to talk about this…” Your words trail off as you move towards the door frame between the living room and the hallway. “I think we need to cool off before we say anything too crazy.”
You don’t see it, but Jake’s expression falls as soon as those words leave your lips, and he curses to himself as you submerge into the hallway, away from his sight. “Fuck,” He sits back down, running a hand frustratingly through his hair.
After half an hour passed, you stood in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth after finishing your skincare routine. The door to the bathroom opened, and Jake had a pinched mouth as he moved past you, reaching for his toothbrush.
You quickly finished up brushing your teeth, refusing to be in the same room as him any longer— the silence killing you slowly. You refused to show him how vulnerable you are, choosing to avoid his eyes as you put your toothbrush away and trudged out of the bathroom.
As soon as you shut the bathroom door behind you, Jake stared at himself in the mirror. He hated every second of that silent treatment of yours, and he was determined to fix things before it could lead into the next day.
You were lying on your side of the bed, turned away from Jake’s. You feel the bed dip from behind you, and Jake doesn’t spare another second before talking to you. “I don’t want to go to bed. Not like this,” he tells you.
Your lip’s part, but no words leave your mouth.
“What about the rule?” He asks when you don’t give him a response. “What happened to not going to bed angry at one another?” He adds, desperation laced in his voice.
When those words leave his mouth, you can’t help but feel bad. It was a rule you both established, and agreed on— so this time, you take a minute to think of how to respond. But before anything, Jake unknowingly shuts those thoughts down as soon as he mumbles a short ‘good night’.
In defeat, you move carefully, turning to look at him. Only to be met by Jake’s back facing you, just like you had done to him.
Biting your lip, sadness crept into your body as you turned away once more— the tiredness in your body dissipating like it was never there to begin with. Still, you try to fight with your thoughts and attempt to go to sleep.
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You looked at your phone for the nth time, watching time pass. It’s been 3 hours, and your restless attempts of going to sleep have gone nowhere. You fought internally with yourself and kept turning, looking towards Jake after you assumed he’d fallen asleep.
Your boyfriend’s back is still facing you, and your emotions get the best of you as tears well in your eyes— threatening to slip out. He fell asleep so easily.
After a couple more minutes, you blink your tears away and decide to text your best friend, knowing she would be up. Hey Ningning, can I come to sleep over?
Receiving a text message of confusion and follow-up of approval, you sit up from your spot— but before you make the move to get up, you look at your boyfriend once more. A frown settles on your face, looking at his ruffled hair pressed against his pillow. As much as you badly wanted to run your hands through it, you shook your head and looked back to your side of the bed, ready to get up.
“What are you doing?” Jake’s voice fills the silence of the room. You had no idea, but during that entire time you were stirring around— he did not get even a blink of sleep. He felt the bed shift whenever you’d turn to look at him, but when he felt the dip from your side rise, he knew you’d gotten up.
“I’m going to Ningning’s apartment.” You mumble, unable to look at him. Jake stills at this and sits up slowly when he processes your words. Your phone is swiped from your hands as quickly as you’d reach to grab it.
Going to bed pissed at one another is already a living hell for Jake, but you being pissed to the point where you feel like you can’t even sleep in the same bed as him? No. He had to do something. Quick.
You finally turn to look at Jake, “Jaeyun, give it back.” Your voice is small but desperate. It’s only then that you realize you can actually see your boyfriend, the moonlight slipping through the window perfectly structuring his facial features. “No.” He shook his head at you, putting your phone on his side.
“No?” You echo what he said, confused. “Not until we talk properly.” He exhales deeply, clearly tired from the past couple of hours.
Silence engulfs your bedroom, and you can’t bring yourself to respond to him anymore, thoughts filling your mind when the words ‘talk’ echo in your head. Talking could mean anything, you thought to yourself.
Jake takes in your silence, and he hates how quiet you’ve gotten. For some weird reason, he found himself wishing you’d just yell at him again, just like the both of you had been hours prior. But he could tell you were thinking again, and this time— you completely shut him out. And he hates that during times like these, he’s unable to read your thoughts like he usually can.
“Baby—”
“Are we breaking up?” You asked, voice shaking slightly. Jake’s facial expression drops almost immediately when those words leave your mouth, “What?” He lets out, tone heavily coated in disbelief.
A gasp leaves your lips, and you’re quick to bring a hand to your mouth when you realize you said that out loud. “Sorry,” you tell him, looking away. For once, you felt like you couldn’t look at your boyfriend. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud.”
“Holy shit.” Is all Jake could say for a couple of seconds, before looking at you like you’ve gone crazy. “Is that what you were thinking?” He asked you, hovering his other hand over arm as a signal to look at him. “That I want to break up?”
Hardly being able to speak correctly, you frown at him as soon as your eyes examine his soft gaze. “I thought…” You started, and his fingers unconsciously began to caress your hands. “I don’t know, it sounds like—”
“We are not breaking up,” He spoke softly when he cut you off, making you lie back in bed with him. You yelp and almost scold him before he continues.
“Yeah, we argued, and yeah, we said mean things to one another, but we are not breaking up.” He’s looking you in the eye, his other hand finding your waist— meaning to pull you closer towards him. “This is something we are working through together, it’s what will bring us closer.”
Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, and you desperately try to fight them— only to fail miserably when Jake smiles sadly at you. “I love you, Y/n. Fights and arguments are normal, and as long as we’re alright by the end of them— before we go to bed— I know I’ll love you even more as the next day comes by.”
You cry into his chest as he buries his face into your neck, almost like magnets as you press into each other’s warmth. “Talk to me, baby.” Jake spoke after a couple of minutes, desperate to hear your voice once more, “Just let me hear you.”
“Jaeyun,” Your voice sounds like a drawl, hardly above a whisper. “Jaeyun, I love you.” Is what leaves your lips, letting your fingers grasp onto Jake’s hoodie. “I hate it when we argue.”
He frowns, pulling back and looking you in the eye. “Me, too.” He spoke softly, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “We always want to be the one who’s right.”
“I don’t even remember what started this argument,” You give him a soft smile, and Jake’s pupils dilate at the sight. “I think it only got worse when I mentioned going to bed…”
Jake hums, “We were in the middle of arguing baby, I didn’t want you going to sleep mad at me.” He moves a strand of your hair behind your ear, staring at you. “I couldn’t even sleep.”
You give him a look of confusion, “But Yun,” You started, and you swear that his eyes brightened up at your usual nickname of endearment for him. “Yeah, baby?” He responds, his voice soft— urging you to continue.
“You were asleep… You stayed in one spot for three hours.” You mumble, head resting comfortably on his bicep, his hand landing on your waist as he tugged you closer.
“Baby, I was awake.” He tells you. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to turn around and take you into my arms.” He heaves a sigh, shaking his head at memory. He feels your body shake slightly, and Jake quirks an eyebrow. “Are you cryi—”
“I can’t believe you stayed still for three whole hours…” You laugh into his neck, your shoulders shaking. Jake lets out a breath of relief, all the tension leaving his body when he realizes you weren’t crying but laughing.
After a couple seconds, he finds himself laughing too, “Yeah, me too.”
You look at him for a couple seconds, and he seems to catch your gaze. “Hi,” He lets out, his voice sounding breathless. A soft smile forms on your lips, “Hi.” You responded in the same energy. “Everything’s okay between us, right?” You ask him, searching for reassurance.
“Because I’m honestly beginning to feel sleepy.” You mumble groggily, throwing an arm around his body.
Jake stares at you for a couple of seconds, before pressing his lips on yours. You’re taken aback for a couple seconds, but quickly melt into the kiss when he pulls you closer.
You two kiss for a while, and Jake pulls away to let you catch your breath. He smiles against your lips, “Yeah, everything’s okay. Everything’s perfect, baby.” He says it twice, to let it sink in your head that it’s okay. That you two will be perfectly fine tomorrow morning. Jake grins, “We can sleep now.” He spoke softly as your eyes fluttered close. “Good night, Y/n. I'll be right here when you wake up in the morning."
“Good night, Yun. See you.”
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copyright © eneiyri 2023 a/n: jake brain rot but when am i not
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nostappen · 23 days
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LET ME BE THE LIGHTER | MV #CH2
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series summary. max raced knowing he’d win. You raced as if you had nothing else to lose. That was something the fans of F1 had grown accustomed to since you joined. Being the only driver who could truly make the Max Verstappen break a sweat during this season, all the odds seemed to be in your favor during one eventful race where you could finally overtake him on the last few laps, breaking his winning streak and also —by consequence — yours and his peace in the near future.
warnings for this chapter : swearing (please, grow accustomed to this warning 🥹), some teasing, light angst, a bit of drama, allusions to past trauma and the reader feeling a bit uncomfortable.
↻ links : prev . masterlist . next
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CHAPTER TWO # SCHATJE
The persistent noise of the doorbell ringing finally caught your attention after its fifth ring, making you nearly jump from your seat in confusion only to go off again in a more prolonged noise that served to irritate you. 
You weren’t expecting any visits today, or at the very least, no visits that didn’t have a key to your place already, yet here you were, moving away from your living room with your headphones still on your head, blasting your playlist less loudly to catch the persistency of your doorbell until you reached the entrance of your house and opened abruptly the tall wooden door only to find someone who you believed could simply get inside with their own key. 
“Verstappen, what the fuck.” You finally slide down your headphones and glare at him before moving to the side to let him in. 
“Hello my Schatje.” He smiles at you and walks in, dropping his happy facade as soon as you close the door. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! I’ve been ringing your door for the past ten minutes.” 
“Okay, first off,” you pause to try to remember the word Max just pronounced. “I don’t know what that Shat word means but just in case…your mom too.” The man automatically chuckles, forgetting his anger momentarily thanks to your lack of knowledge in Dutch, and decides to humor you by keeping his mouth shut about the true meaning behind the word Schatje. If you wanted to believe it was an insult then so be it, he couldn’t care less. He only used it because outside your house, many not-so-discreet photographers were taking pictures of him and he wanted to make sure they’d catch him calling you some pet name and treating you sweetly despite you not even having the courtesy to open the door as soon as he rang. “Secondly, I gave you are spare key for a reason.” 
“I thought it’d be too much to just walk into your house like that.”
The music you were blasting on your headphones could be heard as you paused for a few seconds to look at him with annoyance. “I gave you a key so you could walk into my home as if you were my boyfriend. You were supposed to act like this was a familiar place to you.” 
“That’s the reason why you weren’t answering the door? Because I didn’t follow your rules?” The man looks briefly at the headphones. “Or is it because you wanted to keep on hearing that shitty music of yours?”
Your annoyed expression morphs into surprise and then annoyance again. You walk past him towards the living room, not bothering to guide him properly around your house, and pause the song currently playing. 
“I’d have you know that My Chemical Romance is an incredible band with not one single bad song. Gerard Way has more talent in one strand of his hair than you have in your entire body, twat.” 
“Whatever you say, Schat.” 
“Bless you, man.” You say without sparing him a glance and sit back on the sofa. Max suppresses a laugh and timidly walks towards you, checking the many papers you have thrown around your computer and iPad. “Now sit down for an interview.” 
“Now you are a journalist, Schatje? That’s great. I’m happy you finally realized racing wasn’t your thing and decided to change paths. I will happily give you this interview for free.” 
“Again, your mom.” You point at the other end of the sofa for him to take a seat. “And I’m not gonna change paths, asshole. I’m having a blast stressing the fuck out of you in every race, plus…some are daring to say I will dethrone you again.” 
“Who’s saying that? Your delusional dad?” 
“Okay, low bow coming from someone who’s the child of the scariest man I’ve ever seen.” You speak before truly processing your words and instantly send both hands flying to your mouth as soon as you finish your sentence. “Gosh, Max, I’m sorry.” 
Verstappen glares at you in silence for two seconds too long before giving up on acting offended and breaking into a fit of laughter. 
“Your face! You are all red, dwarf.” 
Blinking yourself profusely out of this embarrassment, you decide to do what any mature adult will do in this situation and attempt to give Max a kick with your feet but he quickly catches onto your movement and retreats, still laughing. 
“You really think you are the funniest guy ever, uh?” You taunt and he nods, sitting back down and grabbing a paper filled with information from Wikipedia about him. “Here I was, actually feeling bad for potentially crossing a boundary and —.” 
“It looks like you’ve crossed many boundaries, dwarf.” Max grabs the next paper, finding some more information about him. “Are you stalking me?” He asks and before you can explain yourself he gives you another question. “Did you call me up to finally confess your undying love for me or to show me your room filled with pictures of me?” 
“Max…” 
“Aw, you probably draw doodles of our initials together inside a heart on every free paper you have, don’t you?” He taunts you, picking a bunch of printed articles about him. 
“Verstappen, stop acting like a child and listen to me. ” 
“Gosh, you came up with the idea to fake date so you could actually make me fall for you, right?” 
“Fuck sake, you Schatje!” You attempt to cut him off using his insults against you but he just starts to laugh all over again, leaving you irritated and more confused than ever. “Dude please, not every person that interacts with you will like you.” 
“Really?” He asks between laughs and holds up a printed picture of his. “Because you look pretty enamored with me right now.” 
“I printed these things for research.” 
“Oh yes, research to make me fall in love with you. I totally get it.” 
“To get to know you because you are my fake boyfriend!” You finally say and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Don’t you realize they will expose us in a few hours and we don’t even know each other’s favorite color? How are we supposed to fake date not even being friends?” 
“So you want to be friends by looking me up on Wikipedia?” 
“No!” You nearly scream in frustration. “I don’t want to be friends with you either, goddess sake. I just want to know basic stuff about you in case they ask us personal questions.” 
“You don’t want to be friends because you secretly want to date me then.” 
“Ah! You are insufferable. Get off my sight.” 
Pouting, Max drops the pages anywhere else. “But I thought you wanted me here, Schatje.” 
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georgerussell63, lewishamilton and 950.348 liked this post…
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notbabyn . Although the news were revealed way sooner than expected, I hope you guys take in this new info kindly and remain respectful please. Much love my babes xoxo 💋
view the comments below…
PINNED COMMENT 📌
maxverstappen . adore you to bits, schantej. Let’s focus on the positives okay? Now I get to show you off freely ❤️
notbabyn. you are right my love 💋
ynstappen. OMG I KNEW IT!! I KNEW THEY WERE DATING OMG OMG. FATHER AND MOTHER 🙏🏻🤍❤️
maxiking. great, now we can definitely have a reasonable explanation as to why yn won the last race. my man was probably trying to gift her a trophy lol
theverstappen. i wonder how the dynamic is before racing. they are both super competitive, i bet its a whole mess after each event
yns.jpg I seriously cannot believe the press released their personal info against their will 😒
yourmercedesfan1. okay the F1 mortal enemies dating wasn’t on my bingo card but im happy for them 🫂
wagsoff1. okay this is the modern retelling of romeo and juliet come on. im living for it 😍😍
ynlovers. call me paranoid but i don't like the lack of pretty words on yn's post. she's usually way more expressive than this. is she okay?
notbabyn. i'm alright lovely. I'm just disappointed and a bit shocked. I wasn't expecting to deal with this right before the race. I actually hoped I could have my relationship all to myself for a bit longer but it's whatever
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“Can I take this off now?” Max asks after you upload your short post confirming the news of your relationship and you give him a brief ‘yes’ before dropping on your sofa. 
For a reason you hate to admit out loud, this whole announcement makes you feel a bit uneasy and nearly anxious. 
The public perception is something you truly care about because the support the fans provide you can affect your career in the long run and you wouldn’t want to risk it too much with them or disappoint them in the end so, naturally, the news of your relationship make you feel a bit shaky…but that’s not all. 
There is something you’ve mentioned once in an interview. It wasn’t a passing comment nor was something you said during a promotional video for F1, but at the moment you overshared way too much and regretted it later. 
On a cozy podcast with a host who later on became somewhat of a friend to you, you both were having a little talk about the pressure of rising to F1 as a woman in its first year where teams were allowed to have men and women in their teams, and you got a bit too comfortable, expressing openly how nervous that made you for a multitude of reasons. 
You had your common reasoning first: the sport is mainly dominated by men and getting in isn’t only difficult but also threatening. Then you said how you wanted your first year to only be about racing and for the public to focus on your skills, not your gender. Still, you knew that in the long run, they’d see whatever they wanted to see. You wouldn’t be able to control the perception they had of you, which, in return, made you push yourself even harder on the track to keep up with everyone while simultaneously attempting to blend in with the drivers to not bring too much attention to the fact that you were — so far — the only woman racing alongside them this season. 
It was all too complicated but the chat got even deeper after that and the host dared to ask you about your past, questioning if it had always been this way with you. ‘This way’ being you racing, going to train, and repeating every day, even before you joined F1, to which you shyly admitted that you had little to no social life outside of the sport and used to be someone that focused a bit too much on racing as a way to cope with personal problems but also escape from things that scared you. 
After you said that, you didn’t realize you were still on a podcast that would eventually be aired on multiple platforms, but once the host pushed it further, you did notice that it was too late to backtrack. 
He asked you if you even went on dates before the F1, and he said it between laughs, trying to ease you down a little bit, but it served no purpose. 
The topic of dating was pretty delicate to you and it was incredibly tied to your past, so you couldn’t simply get into that topic without explaining a bit too much about your struggles and that scared you, so in the panic of the moment you simply stated that you didn’t and left it there, praying that the media and fans wouldn’t make that big of a deal about it and for a while, they didn’t. 
No one went out of their way to ask you more questions about your past or your lack of dating. You only got the occasional gross comment on your posts saying you were too hot to be single or way too pretty to have no experience but you usually blocked the username or simply ignored them in those cases.
There was no uproar over the news and you appreciated it, but now that Max was your boyfriend in the public eye, you feared that the things you admitted in the past would be brought back to either shame you or make it the biggest deal possible, putting you in the spotlight but not in the way you wanted. 
Hell, you barely got a any time to celebrate your first accomplishment on F1 this year before they had to tie you to someone. If they wanted to push you even closer to the limelight they’d probably use that podcast as ammunition. 
“Hey, I left a comment on your post,” Max’s voice brings you back to reality. He leaves the ridiculous shirt you gave him to take pictures neatly folded next to you and sits down as well. “You should reply something cute or whatever.” 
“Yeah, yeah, you are right,” you unlock your phone to see the comment he left and he takes your laptop without asking for permission and has a quick look at your empty page with his name on it. “Why don’t you fill that with random facts about you so I can learn them?” 
“I thought you were going to ask me questions. That’s way more entertaining.”
“Well yes, but they dropped the news about us two hours before expected and now I need to run against the clock to finish something else.” 
“What something else?” 
“My strategy for today.” 
Max stays silent for a brief second before starting to type stuff onto your computer. He knows he could make this more difficult for you and try to convince you to interview him because that would not only be funnier but also keep you distracted before the race as well, being beneficial for him, but he wasn’t one of those types of players. He liked to feel challenged and he knew how seriously you took the sport, he could see it from the very moment you got introduced to everyone.
If you wanted to come up with a new strategy then so be it. He wasn’t going to interfere. He had a plan of his own to win tonight anyway and if he had to be honest, he highly doubted you’d oppose any threat to him this time. Whatever happened in the last circuit that had you and him fighting for the first position wasn’t going to be repeated. 
RedBull made all the necessary changes to his car and came up with a solid strategy for him and Perez to race tonight, and Max had faith in the plan but what he had no faith in was whatever you were cooking on your iPad with your notepen. 
Although you sounded dead serious when you told him you had to come up with a strategy right now, he doubted you’d be able to create any good ideas in such a short time and without any help from the rest of the team. Also, who in their right mind would formulate any strategy just hours away from a race? Plans take long preparations, days even, and usually, the drivers don’t have the biggest input for strategies. It’d be a big risk to simply arrive at the paddock today and tell everybody that you had an idea and they have to follow you. 
That’s not how things work. You have to follow a procedure to ensure 100% effectiveness when racing. 
Hiding a little smile, Max goes back to spitting facts about himself that he believes could be important for you to know, being damn sure that tonight you’d probably end up screwing up your team if they follow you or coming in third at the very best if you stick to whatever plan you had beforehand. 
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georgerussell63 and 670.055 others liked ...
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notbabyn . OH CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN !! 🫡🫡
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PINNED COMMENT 📌
georgerussell63 FUCK YEEE
landonorris congrats man!!! Keep it up!!! lewishamilton you go george! You got this 👏👏 So proud of you mate notbabyn mercedes world domination soon bitchees ✨
formercedesf1. WHAT. THE FUCK WAS THAT
missynthethird. THEY A T E
ynnation. idc if the season isn't done yet. they should give the constructor's championship to mercedes just for this race only
georgiesking. I SWEAR IF THEY HAD A FEW MORE LAPS THEY COULD HAVE REACHED MAX. IM SURE OF IT
f1passion. no way they consider this a win when george barely made it to third position on time lol
yn.jpg mercedes is cooking the best comeback of the year?? maybe??
notbabyn. maybe yes and all thanks to king george 😎
more recent comments…
ynstappenrules. we got some ynstappen content after the race bitcheeeees 😭
maxandyn. the way max literally sprinted towards yn just to get her attention after the race 🥹🥹
maxverstappen. congratulations schatje 🧡
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“Fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes a million times!” You scream crossing the finish line, hearing the many applauses coming from the fans but also from the team on the radio. 
Seconds before you, George had finished the race as well and was now slowly getting out of the car to celebrate with the rest of the team and you. 
The strategy George had been building since the beginning of the season had finally been shown and you couldn’t be more proud to see it work so well. 
George had been working incredibly hard the past few months and even before that, preparing for Lewis departure and what that meant for the team and him too. He dealt with tons of criticism and pressure from the executives and the fans for a long period and rather than feeling discouraged by the uncertainty of the future, he truly did step in to position himself as some sort of leader in the making, trusting Lewis last advice and welcoming you with open arms into Mercedes. 
He frequently came up with good ideas to better up the cars for him but also you; taking it the extra mile by being in all your practices and supervising you just to learn your way of driving. 
He slowly gained your trust by guiding you through the experience of joining F1 and made it a point to prove to Mercedes and everybody else that he deserved the attention and support just as much as everybody else. 
You both had been preparing to follow in his plan, trying to execute some of the steps from time to time during the official races and practices just to test the waters but being careful to not show too much too soon. 
Your win only served to help George take a leap of faith in the end, suggesting you both use the strategy right away and it truly did work. 
The plan was incredibly simple: none of the drivers knew what you two were capable of working as teammates so they wouldn’t expect you to work together to surpass everyone. You could be incredibly defensive during laps, asserting dominance by making sure no one could drive past you and George, with his car being more fit to his standard, could feel comfortable fighting for a good position. The catch was that in the months you began training for Mercedes, George taught you everything you needed to know about the rest of the drivers in order to make you feel more comfortable once you started competing, and you taught him how to defend his position as well, so if you wanted to switch positions during any race you could do it easily. 
“King George!” You scream taking off your helmet and leaving your car behind, making him turn with the biggest smile. “Come here captain!” 
“We fucking did it! The plan worked!” Engulfing you in a hug, he spins you around and you begin laughing out of joy. “I can’t believe it!” 
“I can believe it. You really went the extra mile to make this work, George. I’m so happy for you!” 
His smile drops slightly and he separates from you, wrapping an arm across your shoulders and walking you out of the tracks and past the fans after waving at them one last time. 
“We were supposed to win together,” he nearly reprimands himself and you frown. 
“Nonsense dude. You win and I win. Mercedes wins. If you are between the top three then we consider this a success.” 
“The plan was to —.” 
“Be first and second or second and third. I know,” you roll your eyes and wrap your arm around his torso. “But this is a really good start, George. You proved to everyone at Mercedes that you can come up with good plans to fight for the trophies and that’s enough for now, okay? We will get better at the rest later.” 
“You have way too much faith in me.” 
“You are kidding me, right?” You slow down your pace, seeing that the reporters are going to approach you two any second as well as the rest of the team. “You are my team captain. You are probably the only person in this entire place I believe in.” 
“Gosh, dwarf, you are gonna make me cry if you keep this up,” he attempts to joke and you nudge his side, separating from him and stopping in your tracks to gift him the warmest of smiles. “Next time we pull this off, I will defend and you will speed past Max. Got it?” 
“Sure thing, captain. Now go and give the media some attention, will you? It’s your time to shine.” 
The man gives you another quick hug and a peck on the top of your head before viding his goodbyes and you stay in your place, watching him get surrounded by the media team and some members of Mercedes as well. 
You feel even happier than you did when you got to hold your first trophy. 
To see that all the effort the team put throughout the past months was finally showing results filled you with pride and hope for the future, and unbeknownst to you, happiness seemed to radiate from your body and your expressions as you resumed your walk towards the garage with a smile still present on your features, not paying attention to your surroundings until noise came from your back and a pair of arms wrapped themselves around you, making you yelp in surprise. 
“What the…” Flashes cloud your vision and multiple voices fill in the silence from all sides until you are finally set on the ground and allowed turn to look at whoever picked you, coming face to face with Max and the entire media team that followed him right behind. “Oh, b-baby,” you stutter nervously and he grins. 
“I won, love!” He basically screams and hugs you excitedly. 
You had no clue as to why he was doing this right now. He could easily say some words to the media and walk to the room with the rest of the winners of this race without going out of his way to find you. 
This will only bring more attention to you two and his accomplishment yet again and you felt as if that wasn’t fair. 
George and you had a wonderful race tonight as well and probably managed to surprise everyone with your team-driven strategy, but if Max made a lovely scene right now, there was a slight chance that tomorrow all the media would be willing to talk about was your relationship with him and not the skills Mercedes showed. 
“I’m really happy for you,” you barely muster, feeling somewhat anxious over the sudden display of affection and all the eyes that are looking at you two. “We can celebrate later, okay baby? You have to go and meet up with Checo and George.” 
“Don’t I get a congratulatory kiss before leaving?” 
“I-uh…” Swallowing harshly, your eyes scan around in panic while your mind races a mile against your thoughts, coming up with a possible rejection for his proposition. 
Max couldn’t be any more stupid because he simply lacked more hours in the day.
He was not only making the most out of this whole fake relationship stunt but he was actually enjoying it. 
You were sure because he smiled at you so happily, as if he liked putting you in a tough spot.
Was he doing this because Mercedes out-shone him and Redbull tonight despite the final results or was he simply going along with the plan of acting like a loving boyfriend? After all, it was you who told him that it was best if he acted more sweetly around you. Perhaps if you had said nothing he would have kept a cool and laid-back approach as a fake boyfriend. 
Verstappen clears his throat, feeling suddenly uncomfortable by your lack of response until you land your eyes on him and he can actually sense how tense you really are at the moment, making him feel awful. “Sorry, I’m joking Schatje. I know you don’t like it when too many people are around us.” 
A few commentators get the hint and turn off their cameras, understanding that you probably feel tired and overwhelmed at the moment, while the remaining people decide to stick around just to see what happens. 
“Thanks, love,” you basically whisper and Max pulls you into a hug, allowing you to stand on your tiptoes to speak as close to his ear as possible. “Never, ever, fucking do that to me again, got it?” 
“Got it. I’m really sorry, Yn.” He also lets you know and separates from you. “I will see you in a few, okay?” 
“Okay baby, see ya. No, wait!” You exclaim seeing the Dutch beginning to walk away from you. “Don’t forget to congratulate my teammate on his race. He drove excelently tonight, okay? Have fun Schatje!”
You send him a comical flying kiss and turn your back to him, disappearing before you could even catch a glimpse of his face or his reactions to your words. 
To hell with Max Verstappen. 
He wanted all the praise and glory to himself and you weren’t going to just suck it up and deal with it. This was Mercedes’ night, not his.
#taglist : @alilcloudy @chiliwhore @halleest @welovediaaxx @its-avalon-08 @hiireadstuff @prudyhoo @almostjollypizza @butterfly-lover @sunsshinesunny @tsukishitm-a @be-your-coffee-pot @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @ironmaiden1313 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @sargeantdumbass @asmoothoperator @brettlorenzi3 @lewisvinga @dr4g0ngirl @fruity-dirtbag @ladyladybuggg @woozarts @casperlikej @marshmummy @leclercdream @namgification
A / N : hi everyone! This is (possibly) the last update of the week, since I will be pretty busy until friday and then I have some other stuff to do in the weekend, but in the rare case I do find some free time to correct the next chapter you can expect it on Sunday, okay? Let me know your thoughts about this update or the fic so far! I love reading the comments and seeing you all support this small thingy I just wrote 🥹. Anyways, xoxo 💋 and see you in a few days 🫂
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starzblvd · 8 months
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Pampering your girlfriend to a soothing bath after a rough day from summers scorching heat then letting her use your hand to get herself off <33
an: modern!ellie, college!ellie, gf!ellie, got this idea while doing my extra long everything shower which originally just started off as fluff but yk, was supposed to post this like 2 weeks ago but then I got slumped with other stuff..anyways Ellie refers to you as angel because I love the pet name so much 🩷
Disgustingly hot was what the temperature is around this time of summer. The heat suffocating you immediately after stepping outside. Ellie curses herself on the drive home when the ac of her red 1989 Ford F-250 decided to stop working on one of the summers hottest days. Hot weather called for a hot tempered Ellie, god it’s the afternoon and it’s still this fucking hot.
She’d walk out of her car with an angry pout of a scowl irritated of the stickiness the sweat induced during her drive home to your shared apartment. Ellie’s skin was covered in a glossy sheen when she’d reach the door, whole day she was stuck dealing with the blistering heat with her lecture halls ac coincidentally broke down too. If one thing were to piss her off in this state she’d be ready to pull a hissy fit. She knocked with urgency to get the relief of cold air, a minute passed and another knock perused, two more minutes and she’s calling out your name slightly banging the door. Ellie reaches for her key from her back pocket jamming the key in loudly when you unlock it before she does greeting her wearing an apologetic smile, “didn’t mean to keep you out, was just fixing a bath for you”
You’d known she was beat from how hot she was the entire day by the spam of texts complaining about everything and anything “I hate this chair it’s so uncomfortable” or “can he talk any fucking faster so we can leave”
Ellie couldn’t be mad when you’d been so sweet waiting for her to come back, letting her shoulders drop their stiff lock allowing you to walk her away the shutting door. “You didn’t have to do all that, im just glad to even get outside that godman place, seriously how do all ac’s suddenly get an idea to break down today,”
You’d notice the glowing gleam layer of sweat she walked in with, after she’s pulling you into her gentle embrace contrasting her tone and expression
“but thank you angel, always so sweet to me”
She was tired and so was her voice, raspier than her typical tone. Couldn’t just leave her in her own when she’s so drained,
“let me do the work for you today”
Ellie’s eyebrows lifted confused to what you’re suggesting but follows your trail nonetheless, as your girlfriend she trusts you.
“just sit down and I’ll bathe you, you know?” You take your seat on the edge of the tub looking at her with such an adoring expression she didn’t hesitate to strip and climb into the tub. Her hair was tied back in effort to combat the heat, you take out the hair tie allowing her hair to fall for you to use a container to pour water over her. A giggle escapes her lips when she shuts her eyes from the water.
She enjoyed how dotting you were to her, enjoyed with the way your fingers move in little circles on her scalp messaging in the lathering shampoo, the little kiss you placed on her forehead after rinsing the pine lavender scented conditioner out.
“We should do this more often, like way more often,” Ellie was completely aloof getting taken care of and content with how loving your touch was, almost made her feel a bit guilty for the idea that was looming over her now, almost. “Yeah?” It’d feel just as peaceful for you to care for her. Reaching over for the body wash Ellie’s hand grasps onto your wrist, wet with small bubbles mixed in from the shampoo.
“you wouldn’t mind for me to use your hand a bit would you angel?” Her voice was softer now, any pent up irritation had washed away by now, looking to you with her slight smirk, the same smirk that’d leave your stomach coiling itself up knowing she only had this look when she’d have another one of her ideas.
“Go ahead,”
Still puzzled she lowers your hand to the water guiding your hand to touch the toned muscles of her torso that stiffed with anticipation. Your touch never failed to excite her no matter how long you’ve been together. Noticing the limpness of your hand Ellie spoke up in type of whisper,
“you can tell me to stop”
Taking the hint of what she was insinuating you slowly shift your fingers open to glide your touch over her warm body,
“No no, I want to keep going,”
You’d coo with all the reassurance she needed. Dragging your hand further down, she caressed the sides of her lips with your finger tips feeling the shock it brung earning a small grunt from her slowly teasing her entrance. Spreading her legs further apart Ellie’s hand adjusted your middle and ring finger onto her exposed folds to start some friction easily sliding them up and down with the mix of her slick and water. All you’d hear was the slow sloshing of water and the small whimpers she muffled through her lips.
She kept her eyes closed concentrating on getting to her high using you. Ellie guides your fingers to soothe her puffy clit only being met with your resistance holding her back, instead to run your fingers anywhere else but her clit.
“thought you were supposed to be helping me,” Ellie let’s out grunting into your ear.
despite her efforts to move you onto her ache you keep prodding her folds, writhing from your neglectful touch, she was so needy for you every second you denied her a rub to give her the release she chased for.
“Thought I was the one supposed to be doing the work for you tonight.”
Ellie was growing tired of the lack of attention she was desperate for, she shoved the two fingers down plunging them inside her, her lips parted allowing her sweet moans to fill the room and your ears.
“we both know you could be doing a better job at that right now angel.”
She couldn’t help herself pushing you deeper into her to touch the spot that always had her unfolding below you. Making her hand jerk faster to pump your fingers quicker to speed up she’d be getting closer to the orgasm her body was pleading for.
“Since you’re so pretty like this I guess I can try harder,” you smiled looking at how the muscles of her arm flexed each time she’d move in and out, you keep your open hand busy by gently rubbing her shoulder whilst bringing your underwater thumb to her clit pressing into her before finally giving in and pacing it into circles.
“cmon cmon cmon, keep going angel please”
Begging and unraveling right before you with a final fast pump and stroke to her clit Ellie’s back straightened and curved into an all familiar arch. Her eyes harshly shutting closed but you wanted to see the eyes you loved so much, lifting the hand from her shoulder to her jaw pulling her face to yours, Ellie’s still wanning off her orgasm by drowning her pace down until she’s finally done sliding you out from herself.
She brought your hand back to surface embracing your hard working fingers with a kiss keeping her hold onto you as Ellie slides down into the tub to just the point where her neck starts.
“you can finish your job now,” she was smiling looking forward to the next time.
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sapphire-writes · 3 months
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Pretty Little Thing
summary: After finding yourself at a holiday party you hadn't wanted to attend in the first place, Aemond Targaryen makes it worth while.
pairing: modern!Aemond x Reader
warnings: 18+/NSFW/MDNI - smut, oral fem receiving, fingering, spanking, praise, slight dirty talk, overstim, kissing, love bites, hand over mouth, titty play, allusions to Aegon being a creeper, alcohol, smoking, langauge
word count: 7.2k
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note: im back! grad school didn't kill me! hope you enjoy!
link to other stories from me!
To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙
Be there soon.
Alysanne had texted you nearly an hour ago, and with each passing minute you became more doubtful she’d be making an appearance at all.
You hadn’t even wanted to come. It’d been her idea and now she was blowing you off.
“We’re just exchanging the last of our things,” she’d promised on the phone several hours earlier, “You go on without me and I’ll meet you there.”
Yeah. Because it takes three hours to give your ex-boyfriend his stuff back. Totally.
Alysanne and Cregan Stark had been on and off again since you’d known her; this time was no exception. You knew from her first running later than I thought text that the night wasn’t going to go as you’d hoped. 
You decide to like her most recent message instead of replying, unable to stop the wave of annoyance cresting inside of you. 
You hadn’t even wanted to come.
An end-of-semester holiday party. Thrown by the elder Lannister siblings; twins Jason and Tyland. The kings of Casterly Rock are well known for their extravagant get-togethers and the unimaginable generational wealth that funds all their exploits. 
They’d long graduated from King’s Landing University, but you and Alysanne scored an invite courtesy of Cerelle Lannister, their younger sister, whom you’d been trying to avoid since you arrived. If Cerelle didn’t see you, perhaps you could escape the party unscathed.
That hope proves too good to be true as your name is called from across the room. You slide your phone back into your pocket as Cerelle approaches you. Her blonde hair hangs in effortless curls down her back, the emerald green top she wears accentuating its golden hues, along with her bright green eyes. 
You’re not exactly close with Cerelle, though she appears to enjoy your friendship, at least on a surface level. She’s part of the weekly book club you attend. Her grin widens as she reaches you, eyes drinking you in. 
“Darling!” she muses, pressing a kiss against your cheek.
“You wore it!” she says, fingers ghosting across the cashmere cardigan you’d chosen to wear that evening. Cerelle had bought it for you a few weeks ago, though you’d begged her not to; the price was more than you made in a paycheck.
Alysanne once referred to you as Cerelle’s Polly Pocket.
“She pulls you out of her pocket and plays dress up. It’s fucking weird,” she’d said. 
Cerelle’s lips curve upwards in a Cheshire cat grin as she slings an arm around your shoulder, bringing her glossed lips next to your ear.
“Stop moping in the corner like some dreary wallflower,” she purrs, brushing some hair behind your ear, “Have some fun! It’s winter break!”
Goosebumps break out on your skin at her affections. You laugh breathlessly shrugging away from her touch causing her to frown. 
“You haven’t had enough to drink,” she insists, reaching for another glass, “You’re much too antsy.”
“Alysanne was supposed to be here,” you tell her and she nods understanding, looping her arm through yours and giving your forearm a comforting pat. 
“Fashionably late as always, I suppose,” Cerelle drolls, pointing across the room, “There are lots of fascinating characters here who’ll distract you. Shall I spin a bottle to decide?”
“Hilarious,” you tell her, shaking your head.
“I never joke about a good shag,” Cerelle argues, gaze flickering about the room, “From the looks of it you could use it.” She turns back to you, matching your pout. “Don’t frown, you look too lovely.” She places her hands on your cheeks, thumbs tugging the corner of your lips upwards.
“Much better,” she praises as you hold the smile she’s decorated your face with, “Come on let's find you someone…don’t look at me like that! Someone to flirt with, that’s all. A bit of harmless fun.” 
You roll your eyes earning a pitch on the arm and you swat Cerelle’s hand away.
“There’s no one here I want to flirt with,” you insist, following her gaze around the room, “Let alone shag.”
“You’re too picky,” she muses, tapping a manicured nail against her chin as she scans the room, “What about Greyjoy?”
A shiver rolls through you, “No thank you.”
“Heard he’s good in the sack.”
You’d heard a lot of things about Dalton Greyjoy. None of which made you want to spend an extended period of alone time with him. You glance at Cerelle giving her a firm look. She sighs, returning to her mission.
“You need someone,” Cerelle insists after you shoot down several more options, “You haven’t been with anyone since—what was it again?”
His face flashes through your mind before you can help it. 
“Unimportant,” you quip, “Cerelle, I just want to—” Your words die as two new guests bound up the stairs into the main hallway. 
Suddenly, it’s as if all the air has been sucked from the room, your heartbeat echoing in your ears the only sound you can hear. You tug Cerelle closer, eyes wide.
“You invited them?” you hiss, as Cerelle frowns, following your gaze.
“Not me. Jason must have,” she answers, “It’s not a party without Aegon. Jay swears he has the best coke on this side of the Keep.”
Aegon Targaryen is relatively harmless as long as you keep your drink close. You’re more concerned with the tall figure who lurks closely behind him. Though the younger, Aemond Targaryen towers over his brother; his presence makes the room feel smaller, colder than it was moments ago. He’s dressed in all black, as he usually is, the silver chain around his neck the only other color. His long snow-white hair is braided down his back, an eyepatch securely covering his left eye.
He never takes it off.
Aegon pushes by his brother making a beeline for the kitchen where most of the chaos is localized. You can tell a new drinking game has begun by the sound of cheers and the echo of glasses clinking together. Aegon’s eyes lit up as he disappeared down the hall, eager to join the miscellaneous fun.
Aegon loves a good party.
Aemond watches his brother but lingers behind in the living room leaning against a wall. He extends a long arm to the bookshelf retrieving one with his long fingers. He flicks open a few pages, lips pursing. He glances up, violet eye meeting yours for the briefest moment. 
Your lips part and you look away, warmth flooding your cheeks. You had shared a couple of classes with Aemond, nothing more nothing less. He was quite mysterious. 
“Anyway,” Cerelle says, her attention wavering with each passing second, “Back to you drinking. I’ll get you another glass. Loosen up, pet.” 
You try to, you really do. No matter what her intentions are, Cerelle has been nothing but nice to you, so you allow her antics. An hour has ticked by and Alysanne has yet to respond to your latest text message. Squeezed between Cerelle and Sabitha Frey during another round of quarters you decide to plan your escape. 
“I’m going to get some air,” you tell her, rising from the couch. Cerelle rolls her eyes, “I’m not leaving, I swear!”
“You better not!” she says, perfectly sculpted eyebrows knitting together, “I’ll come to fetch you if you’re gone too long—you know I will.”
She’s telling the truth. 
“Five minutes,” you insist, forcing a smile.
Cerelle’s nose twitches but she lets it go and nods, returning her attention to the game.
Weaving through the sea of people you make your way outside letting the door shut behind you as you walk down a few steps of the front stoop. It’s colder than you expected, you can see your breath in front of you. 
You stand shivering, trying to decide what to do next. Reaching into your pocket, you check your phone for the time. You could leave, make your escape down the steps, and catch the last bus back to Maegor’s Holdfast. 
If you stay any longer, you’ll be forced to spend the night or dip into your savings to splurge on an Uber. It’s always crazy expensive on this side of town as if the drivers know the neighborhood is full of rich kids. 
The door opens and noise from the party fills the cool night until it slams shut once more. You roll your eyes expecting Cerelle as you turn your head. 
Only it isn’t her.
Aemond Targaryen lingers on the top step, reaching into his jacket pocket and placing a cigarette between his teeth. He finds a lighter a moment later, a nice expensive one, flicking it open with a sharp click. Fire blooms in the palm of his hand and you can just make out the three-headed dragon branded on the side of the silver lighter before it disappears into his pocket again.
He releases a cloud of smoke into the air, mimicking the one your breath makes. You turn away as he walks down a few steps, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. 
“You were in my class,” he says suddenly, his head tilting to the side, “History of The First Men, right?” 
You force your lips together. “Mhmm,” you answer, surprised he recognized you.
Aemond Targaryen didn’t seem the type to remember a random girl in his class. Smart as hells, he focused solely on his grades, paying little attention to the rest of the student body. He seemed to be the antithesis of his elder brother. Though incredibly different, supposedly they had similar lustful appetites. 
One for pleasures of the flesh, the other for academic validation.
Aegon Targaryen was a known party boy and ran in multiple social circles. He didn’t care about class or popularity; if there was sex, liquor, and drugs around, Aegon Targaryen would be there. 
However, there were stories about Aemond too that made their way around campus. 
“You alright?” he pressed, the silence laying heavy between you. 
“I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now,” you breathe, chuckling slightly as you rub your arms as the frigid air bites into your exposed flesh. 
Aemond quirks a brow at that, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Why’s that?”
“You’re sort of a banned topic at book club,” you admit, causing his lips to curl into a small smirk. 
“Am I?”
“Mhmm.”
Another moment of silence goes by before his curiosity gets the better of him. “Because?”
“Maris runs it,” you tell him, and he clicks his tongue, nodding to himself before taking another drag of his cigarette.
Maris Baratheon, the elder of a pair of Irish twins. Floris Baratheon, once the object of Aemond’s affection for about a half second, was royally screwed over when he left her for none other than Alys Rivers. Adjunct Professor. It was quite the scandal at the time.
You’re not exactly friends with Floris; closer to Maris if you had to choose. But it's the principle of things—girl code. 
“Floris and I were never exclusive,” Aemond comments.
“Yikes.”
So maybe Aemond Targaryen is just like every other guy. Though, you’re mostly sure he’s telling the truth. The story you’d heard was that he ghosted her. 
“She shouldn’t have assumed,” he continues, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.
You roll your eyes, blood boiling at his statement as annoyance begins to quicken in your belly. Aemond Targaryen seems more like his elder with every word that leaves his curved lips. 
“Right, of course not, how dare she,” is your sarcastic reply. 
Aemond tilts his head toward the sky, speaking around the cigarette. 
“You seem rather upset,” he accuses, “Funny, Floris never mentioned you.”
You turn to face him fully and he glances at you out of the corner of his eye. Folding your arms across your chest you jut your hip out. “We’re not friends. It’s the principle of it all. I don’t like assholes.”
His perfect lips curl slightly. “I’m an asshole?”
“Mhmm. At least Aegon owns up to his behavior, he doesn’t pretend he’s some suave guy doing nothing wrong.”
You swear a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he plucks the cigarette from between them.
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Sure seems like it.”
Aemond takes a step closer then. You have to tilt your head to look him in the eye. Something about being this close to him is almost unnerving, your stomach drops slightly as you focus on his prominent cheekbones. 
“It’s not my problem if a girl gets her hopes up after getting fucked properly,” he counters.
Your breath hitches in your throat and you back up, slightly slipping against the icy railing. Aemond reaches out, his hand curling around your bicep to steady you. It’s warm, almost hot; the heat seeps through your thin sweater in the shape of his fingers. 
There’s a tension between you as he holds your arm for a second too long, before the door opens and several partygoers stumble down the steps, forcing you to break apart. Aemond takes another drag of his cigarette from across the stairs as they laugh tumbling into the street. You’re grateful for the distraction, taking a moment to slow the frantic beating of your heart, and the slight flutter in your stomach. 
“So,” you begin, trying to break the awkward silence the partygoers left behind with their departure, “How do you know Cerelle?”
Aemond looks at you quizzically.
“How do I know Cerelle?”
You jerk your chin up in a hasty nod. Aemond chuckles, shaking his head and taking another drag.
“Family friend,” he answers, “Old money likes to stick together.”
You nod again, unsure of how to answer as he observes you. 
“Surely you’ve heard of the Westerosi Seven?” he asks.
You haven’t.
“The what?” 
“The seven families,” Aemond says, his tone indicating that this is somewhat common knowledge, “Generational wealth that can be traced back to medieval times. The higher lords and ladies. Near royalty.” He takes another drag.
“And you’re one of them?” you ask, crossing your arms. 
“My family, yes,” he answers, “And Cerelle’s. The Baratheon girls. Stark. They’re all quite close.”
“Interesting,” you tell him, glancing down the street again, “You sound like the mafia.”
Aemond holds your gaze, not denying your allegation. You release a breathless laugh, but unease settles in your gut. 
The door opens as if on cue, and Cerelle pops her head out. 
“Darling! Come back inside you’ll catch your death,” she calls, waving you forward. She spots Aemond out of the corner of her eye, and you don’t miss the look of interest that gathers in her green eyes as they flicker between the pair of you, “Targaryen.”
“CeCe,” he politely greets, choosing to use the nickname Cerelle often kept reserved for her family only. She doesn’t comment on Aemond’s choice. 
“Hope you’re being nice to my girl,” she says, the words clipped.
“Of course,” Aemond comments and you can’t help but feel like you aren’t there. 
Cerelle glances back at you, a smile decorating her face once more. 
“Come on, pet! In the kitchen.”
Her blonde hair disappears in the door. Aemond walks down the remainder of the steps tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it beneath his heel. 
“Best run along,” he muses, not turning to face you, “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Annoyance prickles under your skin.
“She’s my friend—”
“You have got a very generous friend,” Aemond comments, turning to face you. He motions at your sweater. “Myrish, isn’t it?”
You cross your hands over your chest. 
“Mhmm,” Aemond hums glancing up at you from the bottom step, “I’d just be careful if I were you. Accepting gifts from rich strangers is a lot like Persephone eating the pomegranate seeds.” 
You scoff at the implication before turning away and heading back into the townhouse. Aemond does not follow; you don’t hear the door open as you hurry back up the stairs. 
The party has since moved completely to the kitchen, sans a couple making out on the living room couch. You enter the crowded space and crane your neck to see what everyone is cheering at.
It’s something happening on the marble island, but you don’t see what—that is until Cerelle sits up, her blonde curls cascading around her face, a lime between her pearly white teeth like a cat with a mouse. 
She smiles curling her finger, beckoning Aegon Targaryen forward. He leans against her, bringing his mouth to hers and stealing the lime. The juice flows down his chin before he lets it fall, pressing a sloppy kiss to Cerelle’s lips, earning several cheers. 
As she breaks away she notices you, eyes lighting up as she slips off the counter. 
“Good, you didn’t leave!” she says giggling, “It’s your turn.”
“My turn?” you ask, heart dropping into your stomach. 
“Mhmm,” she says, dragging you forward, “Up now!” 
“Cerelle, I don’t—”
“Hush! Qyle Martell is doing it,” she says biting her lip suggestively, “Let the sexy Dornishman take a shot off you, alright?”
Your cheeks darken as he appears before you, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you onto the counter like a lamb for slaughter. The crowd cheers and your eyes widen as you meet Qyle’s warm brown eyes. 
“Your sweater,” he says, motioning to it with his hand that clutches a bottle of tequila. 
You glance at Cerelle and she nods encouragingly. Over her head and in the doorway you spot Aemond. He didn’t leave after all. Instead, he leans against the doorframe, observing the chaos with a curled lip, as if the entire thing is beneath him.
Qyle whistles, drawing your attention back to him. He motions to your sweater yet again.
“Oh,” you tell him, moving to unbutton it. 
Thank goodness you wore a tank top underneath. Your fingers slip with nerves as you struggle to unbutton it. You’re the center of attention, peers cheering and chanting around you as you struggle with the bottoms. 
Quite the sacrificial lamb you are. 
“Here, can I help?” Qyle asks, reaching toward you, his fingers bumping against your own. The bottle of tequila sloshes. 
“No—no I’ve got it—oh!”
You’d moved wrong, done something wrong—or perhaps someone pushed him you’re not sure. Your head is buzzing with the noise of the room and suddenly the front of your sweater is doused in tequila. Qyle’s eyes are wide as Cerelle pushes him to the side as the smell of alcohol fills your nose. 
The room quiets momentarily until Cerelle’s bell-like laugh pierces through the silence. 
“Qyle you idiot,” Cerelle sneers, nose wrinkling with playful distaste, “You’re supposed to wait till she’s laying down—”
“It was an accident!”
“—and her sweater!” Cerelle growls in annoyance, “Go upstairs, pet, my room. Pick anything you like.”
You slide off of the counter, hurrying from the room, leaving the sound of music and chanting behind as you move deeper into the labyrinth of the Lannister home. 
Cerelle’s room lacks color and warmth. 
You’d spent the night once here before, crawling into the white feather bed after too much mulled wine. Cerelle had stroked your hair until you’d fallen asleep, only to awake the next morning with a severe headache and a churning belly. 
Popping the rest of the buttons, you peel the soaked sweater from your body and throw it in the hamper. You then walk over to Cerelle’s closet—double doors—and open it. Expensive. Perfumed. You’ve already ruined one pretty thing. Though Cerelle could hardly care about the expense, you do. You sigh, gently pushing through the soft fabric.
“Playing dress up?” a voice calls, and you turn to Aemond at the door. 
You close the closet door. You’ll just have to survive in your thin top. Aemond holds a glass of whiskey between his long fingers.
“Well, I suppose that was a given,” you answer him, sitting down on the bed.
Aemond watches you from the doorway, his arm raised above his head, fingers tapping nonsensically against the frame. 
“D’you want to see how you’re supposed to do it?” he suddenly asks.
“Do what?” you question, tilting your head to the side. 
“What Qyle was going to do,” he answers, and you understand his meaning. 
Aemond walks over to you, the ice rattling against the glass he lazily grips between his fingers, coming to stand in front of your legs. You’re not sure why he’s asking, what interest he has in you. But something in your belly tightens the closer he gets.
“Alright,” you give him a quiet answer, the word barely slipping past your lips. 
Aemond purses his lips, glancing down at your legs. 
“Spread them,” he says softly, motioning with the cup. Warmth creeps up the back of your neck and blooms on the apples of your cheeks. You lock eyes with him, focusing on the ring of violet that surrounds his pupil. You do as you’re told, knees parting; his gaze hypnotizing. “Wider.” 
Your skirt tightens against your thighs as you do so, but you spread your legs wide enough for him to stand between them. He takes a step forward and you’re forced to look up at him.
“Lean back,” he instructs. You’re beginning to notice how easily he slips into the domineering role. Again you follow his instructions, cheeks burning as you lean back, propping yourself on your elbows. 
You’re much more exposed without your sweater, the tops of your breasts visible in the thin top you wear. Aemond steps closer, looming over you, heat radiating from his tall form.
He reaches out, fingers caressing your cheek. You hope he can’t feel how warm they’ve become, feel your pulse fluttering against his fingers as they trail underneath your jaw and down your neck until they reach your collarbone.
“You’re to put salt here,” he murmurs, pressing against the dip of your collarbone for emphasis, “That’s first.” He leans down then, fingers trailing over your shoulder and down your arm leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. “Though we’re without.”
You swallow as his fingers continue to trace your collarbone. His violet eye watches you carefully before he pulls his hand away. He brings them lower, ghosting down your ribs until they reach your waist.
“May I?” he asks, fingers at the hem of your shirt. You give him a wordless nod, not able to trust your voice. Aemond pushes the fabric up slightly, revealing your navel. He holds the glass above your stomach; a drop of condensation falls causing you to flinch at the cool sensation.
Aemond flicks a brow at the constriction of your abdomen, “You’re quite sensitive.”
“It’s cold.”
“Mhmm,” he agrees, turning the glass so more condensation falls; little raindrops begin to adorn your skin, “The liquor goes here.” His fingers ruin the pattern he’s created, rough fingertips swirling the dew drops around your navel, “Tequila.”
“We haven’t got any,” you breathlessly tell him, his touch leaving a scorched trail across your belly. 
Aemond brings his glass closer, pressing the edge against the beginning of your belly button, letting some whiskey pool there. Your hands clenched into fists as the cold liquid fills you up; you watch as it shakes slightly, overflowing. Aemond leans forward, catching the spill with his mouth causing a gasp that sounds more like a moan to leave your mouth. His mouth covers your navel and you can feel his tongue swirl around, collecting the liquid he poured there with hot, calculated strokes. 
His violet eye peers up at you from behind silver lashes, half-lidded as he hollows his cheeks sucking harshly. He reaches toward the side table, mouth never leaving you, to place his glass on the edge freeing his hand. You can feel his tongue circling your navel, gently probing the sensitive skin. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you at the ticklish sensation. Aemond presses his hands against your obliques before releasing you with a pop, his chin and lips shining. 
“That’s how it's supposed to be,” he murmurs, not moving from the spot between your legs. Some of his silver hair has fallen across his brow, and on instinct you reach forward, brushing it from his eyes. 
“There’s one more part,” you tell him, fingers grazing the beginning of the scar that mares his left brow before disappearing behind the patch.
“What’s that?” he asks, his gaze revealing he knows the answer. 
He just wants to hear you say it, you realize. 
Your lips part, fingers still somewhat tangled in his hair; the strands soft as silk between your fingers. 
“There was a lime,” you tell him, “The person….holds it in their mouth.”
Aemond pushes up then, his hands sliding up your sides until they’re pressed into the bed on either side of you, his face inches from your own. 
“Have you got a lime on you?” he asks, his breath warm on your face, the scent of whiskey strong between you.
“No,” you murmur, not knowing where to look. He’s so close you can see the flecks of blue and gold in the lilac iris of his eye, count his silver lashes, and notice the small indentation on the tip of his prominent nose.
He hums again, his eye dropping to your lips.
“Pity,” he says, lips down turning into a pout.
Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest with the way it's pounding incessantly against your ribcage. He’s so close your chests are practically touching; your nipples straining against the fabric of your top. His chain peeks out from under the collar of his shirt and your resolve crumbles. Your eyes flicker to his lips, tongue darting out to wet your own and he leans forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.
Your hands wrap around his neck as he kisses you; his lips so soft and firm against your own, skilled tongue parting them with ease to deepen the kiss. A moan doesn’t make it out of your throat as his hand cradles your jaw, the sound of soft kisses is the only thing you can hear besides the muffled hum of the music playing downstairs. 
Aemond pulls away then, the look is his eye ravenous as he lowers himself between your legs once more. For a minute you think he may grab his glass and do the party trick all over again, the kiss just a spur-of-the-moment thing. Instead, he pushes your skirt up, fingers digging into the flesh of your inner thighs. You realize a moment too late what he’s doing.
Riiiip!
“Aemond!” you squeak, as he rips the seam of your tights, “These were a new pair!”
“I can buy you another,” he says, pressing a kiss against the smooth newly exposed flesh, “Or perhaps CeCe can. You’re her favorite plaything, aren’t you?” 
Your cheeks burn at the statement, your mouth pressing together in a tight line. Aemond grins, nimble fingers undoing the zipper of your skirt and wiggling it down your legs along with your ruined tights.
“Oh she doesn’t like that,” he says, clicking his tongue, “But it’s true, isn’t it?” His hands are roaming higher now, grazing against your clothed center. You’re certain he feels the evidence of your arousal but he stays quiet about it. “That’s what you are, aren’t you? A pretty little plaything.”
“Fuck you,” you hiss, humiliation seeping into your veins, though it does little to quell the desire pooling in your belly. 
“No shame in that,” he says, shaking his head, “I understand Cerelle, entirely.” His fingers tug your panties down your bare legs, exposing your wet center. Aemond’s eye locks on it, lips quirking upward. “I like pretty things as well.”
“So I’ve heard,” you quip as Aemond’s second-hand joins the first. He swirls a finger low against your entrance and you clench as he drags it upwards.
“Have you?” he muses, circling your clit with minimal pressure, “And what have you heard?”
“That you’re as insatiable as your brother,” you manage to choke out as his thumb continues to tease your clit, “You just hide it better.” 
Aemond cocks his head to the side in silent agreement before pressing his face against you. A sharp cry leaves your lips as his tongue explores from your entrance up to your clit, the tip circling the sensitive button. 
Eyes rolling back in your head, Aemond nuzzles his face against you, tongue slipping down and pressing into your clenching hole. He hums in approval as you make another desperate noise as his tongue curves upwards inside of you. 
Seven hells, how is anyone’s tongue long enough to do what Aemond’s is doing? Your toes curl as his tongue hooks upwards against the front of your pelvic bone, thrusting against the sensitive patch of nerves that resides there.
“Oh gods—fuck—fuck!” you cry as he continues the repetitive movement of his tongue, waves of pleasure lapping up your spine, sending shivers through your whole body. “Hells Aemond…”
His nose presses against your slippery clit, rubbing against it in a way that stokes the pleasurable fire burning in your belly. His hands hold your thighs open and you throw your head back against the bed as the pressure inside you builds and builds and builds. Your back arches and your thighs tremble in his bruising grasp.
You lean up on your forearms to watch him, his violet eye intently watching your face, studying your reaction. You can tell he’s smug at the effect he’s having on you. He would often get that same look in his eye in class after he proved someone wrong or made a more intelligent point. How you must look to him now; all spread out before him, flushed and slack-jawed, dewy-eyed and pretty. 
You’re a pretty toy to play with. Just want he wanted. 
His tongue leaves your fluttering pussy and you whine at the loss of contact. He mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like needy before two fingers sink inside your warmth to replace what he took away. 
Aemond’s tongue returns to its place around your clit as his fingers curve upwards replaying the motion from before. The stimulation now is much harsher, the pads of his fingers dragging effortlessly against your spongy walls, curling with brutal intention; relentlessly pressing against the swelling spot inside of you. 
His warm, wet tongue against your clit only hastens the tightly winding ball of pleasure in your gut and you feel your walls swelling around his fingers as your release knocks the wind out of you. 
You come with a strangled cry, hands gripping the bed sheets as your abdominal muscles contract to the point of pain, all your muscles going taut as warm waves of euphoria rush through you. 
Aemond releases a choked chuckle of appreciation as he feels you tighten around his fingers. He fucks you through it, stretching out the wave of your orgasm until your legs are trembling and the overstimulation causes you to hiss at him.
“Stop, stop, please.”
“Alright…shhh,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your mound and gently pulling his fingers from your fluttering walls, “There you go, that’s a good girl. You did so well for me.”
You can’t help but warm at his praise, the ringing in your ears fading as your chest swells. Aemond is on you once more, lips pressed to yours the mingled taste of whiskey and you hot on his tongue. 
“Are you going to let me fuck you?” he murmurs between sticky kisses, “Hmm?”
“Aemond…” you breathe into his mouth, hoping that is enough for him.
You can feel him smirk against your lips and know instantly it's not. He tuts disapprovingly, pushing you back against the mattress, his face dipping into the crook of your neck.
“What would Floris say?” he teases, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers digging into his scalp. His braid is all but ruined. “I thought you said something earlier,” he continues, nipping and sucking at different spots on your neck, humming with pleasure when he locates a spot that has your back arching. 
“I don’t—”
“Loyalty, I recall,” he purrs, his hand snaking down your side, gripping the meat of your thigh and hoisting it around his waist, “Something like that.”
“Aemond,” you whimper helplessly as he grinds against you, the feeling of his hard cock concealed by his trousers driving you close to madness, “Aemond please.”
“You’re going to have to say it,” he insists, kissing your cheek, “Come on, say it.”
“I want you to fuck me,” you tell him, “Please Aemond—gods.” 
“They can’t hear you,” he taunts, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, “You’re all mine.”
You frantically nod, nose bumping against his as his lips curl into a greedy smile. He removes his shirt with one hand before he rolls off of you and onto his back, motioning to you with his hands. 
“Go on then,” he says, “Take what you want.”
With shaky hands, you undo his belt above the sizable tent in his pants before dragging the zipper down and releasing his cock. He’s bigger than you expected, both in length and girth, the reddened tip already weeping in anticipation. You stroke his velvety shaft once before he grabs your wrist, pulling you toward him. 
His hands pull your shirt from your body as you straddle him, his cock nudging at your folds. Aemond’s hands slide up your back, undoing your bra and freeing your breasts. 
“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, hands cupping the sizable mounds, “Gods, you’re so lovely.”
Your face burns at his praise as you raise your hips before gripping him in your hand and guiding him inside of you; gently letting yourself slide down his length, inner walls fluttering around him at the new sensation. Shuddering on top of him you whine at the stretch. “Gods—”
“You can take it,” he murmurs, squeezing you softly in encouragement, “Come on baby, that’s it, just like that.”
Slowly you let him bottom out in your warmth, happily seated on his cock feeling incredibly full. You brace your hands on his chest as he pinches both of your nipples, your jaw slacking in response. Aemond lifts his hips slightly, gauging your reaction as your eyes screw shut.
“That feel good?” he asks, his voice a rough whisper.
“Yes,” you breathe, slowly starting to ride him, hips lifting and returning to his with a soft smack. 
“There she goes,” he murmurs, hands dropping to your hips, squeezing, “Take what you need, gevie.”
A breathless moan escapes you as you ride him, his hands guiding you through the movements. The hum from the music downstairs matches the ringing in your ears. 
Aemond drops his hand from your waist bringing it to the apex of your thighs. His lips part as he watches you rise and fall on his cock, his length coated with your arousal. 
“That’s it,” he coos, his tone bordering on one of condensation, “Just like that—there’s a good girl.” His thumb brushes against your clit as he says it, a broken moan leaving your lips as pleasure ignites your veins. 
His movements are soft, tantalizing, and brutally calculated as he circles the sensitive button; his other hand clings to your waist, hard enough to bruise. Surely they’ll be memories of his touch when you wake; dark purple petals blossoming on your soft flesh at first light. He guides your movements as they become sloppier the closer you get to your release. 
It sends tingles up your spine, your chest and neck growing warmth as you edge closer to the precipice of pleasure.
No other man has made you finish before.
“Are you close?” Aemond murmurs, never stopping his attention to your clit, the subtle movement of his hips thrusting up into you, “I know you are—can feel you clenching around me.”
Your head falls back, mind foggy as you desperately grind against him, trying to ignore the burn in your hamstrings. Aemond’s hand leaves your hip crashing down against your ass with a loud smack. You yelp in surprise, head jerking forward, nails clawing into the hardened muscles of his chest. Aemond’s hand remains where he’d spanked you, fingers curling into the meat of your ass as he releases a breathless laugh; his eye flickers to where your nails dig against his pale flesh, leaving a trail of red behind as they scrape down his chest.
“Answer me,” he demands, and you quickly nod earning another stinging slap, “With your words gevie. Use those pretty lips.”
“Yes,” you practically gasp, “Yes, Aemond I’m close—”
“And you want to cum, don’t you?” he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk, “Do you want me to make you cum?”
“Yes, Aemond please—” the sentence dies with a moan as he plants both feet on the mattress, bucking his hips up against yours at an inhumane pace. Your eyes screw shut, mouth hanging open in ecstasy as all the muscles in your body tense followed by a sudden burst of euphoria pulsing through you. 
Aemond hums in satisfaction as you ride your high, blood rushing in your ears as you shake on top of him, clenching around his thick length. He’s careful to pull his thumb away from your sensitive clit as your eyes flutter open, eyebrows scrunched together at the overstimulation. But his compassion is short-lived as he hooks his arm around your waist, flipping you onto your back and slotting his body on top of yours. 
His cock is removed for merely a moment at the switch of positions before it’s stretching into your once more earning a sharp gasp. Aemond’s hand covers your mouth in an instant, his face buried in the crook of your neck once more. 
“Shhh,” he coos, placing a kiss under your ear, “Hear that?” he asks, thrusting gently into your warmth causing your eyes to roll back in your head. “Listen.”
His hips continue their gentle roll against yours, slowly stoking the pleasurable fire that is reigniting in your belly. Limbs still tingling from your previous orgasm, you blink rapidly trying to focus on what he’s asking. 
The music downstairs has died.
“Everyone’s going home,” he murmurs, through another kiss, “We’d best be quick. Would hate for lovely Cerelle to find her pet in such a position.”
Embarrassment burns your cheeks and he chuckles, keeping his hand over your mouth as he slings your leg over his shoulder, deepening the angle of his thrusts. The head of his cock bullies against your sweet spot almost lovingly as he drags his cock in and out.
“Keep quiet,” he murmurs, the sound of silence deafening with the lack of music, “Can you do that?” He’s rather cruel with his question, delivering a particularly harsh thrust as he asks, then clicking his tongue in disapproval at your muffled moan. “Thought not.”
So his hand remains as he plows into you, the sounds of your pleasure muffled but still desperate as you claw at his shoulders. 
“That’s it,” he encourages, “Cum for me again, just like that.” His pelvis grazes against your clit, the friction only aiding in his efforts of making you reach your release once more. His violet eye scans your face before he dips to your collarbone, nipping the sensitive flesh with his teeth and you cum with a desperate cry against his hand. 
“There you go,” he coos, the words breathy and broken his hips faltering as your walls clamp down around him, “Squeezing me so fucking tight—fuck.” He regains his pace with renewed enthusiasm as your walls continue to flutter around him. Aemond removes his hand from your mouth pressing it into the mattress beside your head. 
Nerves raw from the continued stimulation a tear rolls down your cheek as he chases his own release. Aemond leans forward, hot tongue darting out to catch the salty stream as he hums in satisfaction. 
“We’ll have more time next time,” he whispers the promise against your cheek, “I want to explore what other pretty noises you make.” His lips capture yours then, swallowing the whimper you release. 
“I’m very curious,” he murmurs against your lips, slinging your other leg over his shoulder, pushing your knees back beside your ears. “And I’m very thorough.” A silent scream leaves you as he slams back into you, toes curling as you cum again, vision going white with the force of it. 
Aemond’s hips meet yours a few more times and then you feel his cock pulsate inside of you before the warmth of his release fills you to the brim. You’ll need to make a trip to the pharmacy, but you’ll think about that later. He stays like that for a moment, buried to the hilt inside of you as you both try to regulate your breathing. 
Aemond lowers your legs gently from around his shoulders and brushes some sweat-soaked hair from your forehead. 
“Are you alright?” he asks, and you nod as he kisses you sweetly.
“Just fucked out,” you assure him, a pleasurable ache radiating down your thighs. Aemond hums, carefully pulling his softening cock from your warmth.
The emptiness takes your breath away as he stands. “Wait here,” he orders, walking towards Cerelle’s bathroom. He returns a moment later, washcloth in hand. You push yourself onto shaky forearms as he carefully cleans the mess between your thighs.
“Thank you,” you tell him, face burning from his attention.
“No need for thanks,” he insists, “It’s the bare minimum.”
“For you maybe.”
Aemond flicks a brow toward his hairline, his violet eye meeting yours. His expression is curious, but you sense he’s not going to push you to elaborate. You hold his gaze. 
Not tonight.
“Are you staying here?” he asks, standing when he’s done, handing you pieces of your clothes.
“I think I have to,” you answer, putting your skirt back on and glancing at the clock, “The last bus is long gone.”
Aemond frowns, reaching for his phone.
“I’ll have my driver take you,” he says, unlocking his screen.
“You don’t have to—”
“It’s no trouble,” he insists, placing the phone against his ear, “Cole. Ten minutes. Thank you.” He hangs up quickly leaving no time to argue.
“Thanks,” you mutter awkwardly while finishing dressing. You walk to Cerelle’s large mirror and attempt to fix your sex hair. Your eyes widen in horror as you tilt your head to the side, leaning closer to get a better look. 
“Aemond,” you hiss, fingers pressing against the three red marks sure to bruise, “I look like I’ve been mauled by a bear.”
Aemond walks up behind you dragging his fingers down the curve of your neck and over your collarbone. Goosebumps appear in their wake. Three more red marks lead a path down to the top of your right breast. Several sizable mouth-shaped love bites. 
Aemond rests his chin on your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror.
“Think of them as a gift,” he tells you, the curve of his lips pressed against the skin of your neck.
His hand curves around your waist, the other slinking up to turn your face towards him. He hums appreciatively, kissing your lips, then your cheek. Down your neck to your shoulder. You glance in the mirror once more, catching his eye. 
There’s something new there. Almost possessive. 
His grip on your waist tightens and he presses his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder.
Outside, snow begins to fall.
1K notes · View notes
doobea · 5 months
Text
WHEN THE SUN RISES - SAE ITOSHI
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synopsis: You have doubts about your relationship. Sae provides reassurance.
contents: early established relationship, gn!reader, fluff, reader is a tad insecure, mentions of other couples and pda, talks about all things mushy with love word count: 1.1K a/n: waaahh cant believe i didn't post anything for my husband on his birthday im so terrible - this is something short and sweet ;-; i haven't posted anything in a bit bc I've been so tired lately LOL
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You have doubts. 
Doubts about your work performance, test scores, your friendships, and sometimes the future — you know, the less important things. 
Your least favorite doubts are the ones about you and Sae. 
He’s not a bad boyfriend by any means. You’ve been dating each other for a while now, just shy of six months, and it’s been going well. Like any other college couple, you spend your free time together either marathoning a shitty reality TV show, studying, or eating at the local diners near campus once in a while for a ‘fancy’ burger and pizza date night (which Sae hates, by the way, but he goes because there’s nothing better around). You don’t blame him for these doubts because it’s just the way he is. You’ve always known this, along with everyone else around you. 
“Itoshi Sae? Yeah, he’s pretty cold and blunt.” They’d say in a hushed whisper. 
Another would agree, followed by an exaggerated shiver. “I heard even professors are scared of him.”
They’re annoying rumors and passing comments you've gotten somewhat used to. So you don’t blame the gossipers at your school either. Who you do blame are all the couples you would see, whether it’d be at school, at the grocery store, and sometimes even your own parents. Seeing things like holding hands, hugging, and even kissing each other goodbye sets something weird off in your chest.
And, well, you’ve known Sae for a while. You know that maybe he isn’t the type to be comfortable with these things, especially in public. And maybe you’re not going to guilt trip him into doing things that are out of his ordinary. But here’s the problem.
You do want to experience all of it.
“Sae?”
“Hm?”
“Do you like me?”
Your question throws him off just a tiny bit. He fumbles slightly with his flow of writing before catching himself and throws you a questioning look from across the table. 
It’s the midterm season so every floor at the university’s library is packed. All but the top floor, which is mainly reserved for graduate students, who are rarely even on-site. So you two manage to snag a booth in the corner by the bathrooms and water fountain. You’ve been studying for about two hours straight and the thought of going over the rules of the Krebs cycle again haunts you so you let your doubts take over. Hence, why you blurted out the question that’s been burning on your mind for the past week. 
“I do, why do you ask?” He doesn’t sound bothered by it, so you take that as a good sign.
But how do you go about asking him to show that? Maybe asking upfront would be too demanding right now. You decide to dance around the subject a little more.
There’s a moment in silence, your eyebrows creased in deep thought before you finally speak, voice clumsy and almost rough sounding. “When did you realize you liked me?”
He answers without missing a beat, eyes never leaving his notebook. “Dunno.”
Well, that wasn’t the answer you were expecting. 
“Huh?”
“What?” Sae breaks his focus and stares at you, as if you were the one who had said something weird. “You asked and I answered.”
“You have to explain with that sorta question, you know?”
In just the tiniest of motions, Sae frowns. He’s holding his breath for a few seconds in preparation and his eyes soften. “I’m not sure when I fell in love with you.”
Woah—wait love? This is also not what you were expecting out of this conversation either. Is it too late to go back to studying now?
Sae picks up the worried look on your face and manages a soft chuckle. “You know when the sun rises?”
You’re patting your face with your hands now, hoping to eliminate the burn on your cheeks. The sweat forming in your palms doesn’t help at all. And, frankly, you’re confused by his question. “Um, between six and seven?”
“Well, yeah,” he laughs again and you’re not sure if that was the answer he was looking for. “But it always rises, right?”
“Right,” you say slowly, still confused by what he’s trying to get at.
“I’m not sure when I fell in love but whenever the sun rises, it reminds me of you,” Sae explains with a leveled expression, ignoring the little surprised squeaks from your direction. “It’s been like that for a while now and brings me comfort whenever I do wake up early to see it rising.”
“Did you get that line from a K-drama or something?”
He rolls his eyes and fake scoffs. “Thought you wanted an explanation?”
“Well,” you bite back a giggle and continue, “you never struck me as a metaphor type of guy.”
“And you never struck me as the jealous type.” 
You grow hotter because wow guess you haven’t been that great at hiding away your feelings—or maybe your boyfriend is just that good at being perceptive as he is being a top honor student. “Was it that obvious?”
“When you’re looking at other couples and grumbling right after then yeah, it’s pretty obvious.” Sae’s tone doesn’t carry any ounce of tease and he gives you a fond look. It makes you feel slightly guilty and embarrassed. 
You shrink deeper into the booth, holding your textbook up to your face. “Sorry…”
The seat next to you dips and a familiar pair of hands gently snatches the book away from you, revealing Sae’s rare soft expression again. 
“Don’t be,” He reaches over to ruffle your hair before moving his laptop and notebook over to your side. “Plus, you shouldn’t worry that much, I’ll always be with you.”
A pause and then you decide to blurt out your other burning question because things are already out in the open at this point. “Would it be alright if we start doing more couple-ly things together?” 
“Mhm,” he’s about to dive back into studying but stops, humming in thought. “What should we do more?”
“Well, aside from me,” Sae deadpans and you straighten your posture. “Sorry, sorry, what I meant to say is I guess more PDA? Holding hands would be a good start.”
“Okay,” He says quietly and drops his pen, carefully interlacing his fingers with yours.  
Sae’s hands are warm, maybe even sweaty if you’re not mistaken. You look up and oh — his cheeks have the tiniest amount of red on them. Probably no different from the resurgence of warmth you’re currently feeling too.
“Better?” Sae asks and squeezes your hand.
“Yeah, better.” You squeeze back. 
872 notes · View notes
lotte-s-web · 1 month
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Hobie who fucks you to his own songs, and sex isn’t all soft and lovely when kick-ass British-hardcore punk music plays in the background.
— SAMO 🎸🥀⁉️
samo babe youre trying to kill me this is the first thing i saw when i got home😭😭 youre so right tho i HAD to write a thing
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💿✩ ❝record ❞ hobie brown x gn!reader ✩💿
₊˚⭑ warnings: penetrative sex, teasing, hobie records reader's voice, overstimulation (i think?)
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God knows how long it’s been since his record started playing, but all you know is that he’s been wrecking you for more than 3 orgasms. You’re shaking, hands uselessly gripping at the sheets as if it’d tether your mind to your body, as if you could do anything against the unrelenting pace of his hips. Your cheeks are damp with overstimulated tears, your voice raspy from all the noise you’ve been making.
But noise doesn’t matter when his music is so loud, blasting from all angles of the room and drowning out even the loudest of your moans. It drowns out the loud clapping noise your bodies make as his hips meet your ass, over, and over and over again, following the ever-changing rhythm of each of his band’s songs. The combination of the aggressive music blasting in your ears and his length making space within your body making you dizzy with pleasure.
Hobie groans from behind you, his lean frame fucking into you from the back as he keeps his hand on your hips to pull you back against him with each thrust. His other hand is pushing down on your back, forcing you to arch for him, holding you down despite the way you writhe under him and making you take each thrust into you. 
His skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat, making his dark skin glisten in the dim lighting as if he was some god of the night. And with the way he was keeping you on the boundary between pain and pleasure tonight, it certainly felt like he was. 
He’s panting, groaning, and moaning above you, the rough and guttural sounds blending in with his song in a symphony that makes you clamp around him, your lust-addled mind soaking in his pleasure. His hips follow the aggressive beat of the drums, grating and angry guitar riffs pumping his veins with adrenaline and the energy to keep driving into you. His eyes zero on the way your greedy hole swallows in his cock as if it wasn’t enough, as if you hadn’t been complaining just a few minutes ago about it being too much. 
A new song plays, something even faster, even angrier. “Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts above you, stilling his pace to listen to the first few beats of this new song. The sudden stop gives you air to breathe, giving you time to gasp for air and thank whatever higher power there was for the much-needed break. Your face falls into his pillow, your body exhausted.
It’s just as sudden when he starts to move again, his hips pulling back and pushing back in, full force in one swift motion that makes you jolt, making you choke on your breath. The motion is repeated again, and again, and again in another swift rhythm that has you falling apart on his cock. It makes you whine into his pillow, trying to retreat from him in any way you could.
He clicks his tongue at that, disapproving, making his thrusts harder, making you moan louder. He removes his hand from your back to hold your cheeks in a firm grip, pulling your weakened body up flush against his chest. His mouth is right up in your ear as he continues his brutal pace, his fingers digging into the flesh on your hip and leaving purpling marks where they lay as he runs filth into your ear about how good he knows you sound. You can barely hear your own moans but his words ring loud and clear within the foggy state of pleasure he’s got you in.
“Wanna hear ya sing dove,” he groans into your ear, emphasizing each word with a thrust that hits right up against that gummy ridge that makes your eyes roll back and your mouth fall slack. He rests chin resting on the junction of your neck and shoulder, moaning into your skin as he starts to ramble in your ear. “Gonna— F–Fuck— gonna use i’ as yer audition tape, yeah? Mmmph— wanna show the band how fuckin’ pretty ya sound when y’re all fucked ou’ f’me.” 
You keen at the idea, getting his blood pumping hot through his body downwards to where he’s sheathed inside you, his grip on you tightening with every little noise that blends with his song. That’s when it hits him: an idea, a brilliant one. 
The hand on your hip moves away to scramble for something on the nightstand, your body trembling against his as he finds his tape recorder amidst the mess on the small table. He sets the device down underneath you and clicks a button, the cassette starting to roll just as he starts to move again, your whines and cries of pleasure all caught by his tape. You barely notice in your haze, too cockdrunk to even consider any resignations to the idea of you being recorded.
He hears your breath hitch at the idea of being recorded, your voice softly crying out his name in complaint. He chuckles, kisses your cheek then continues pumping up into you, murmuring into your ear, “who knows, hm? Migh’ even get ya on the next track li’ thi’.”
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a/n: ik his accent here is shit guys MY BAD IM SORRY aghh its so hard to write it shfbdsh
๋࣭ ⭑ tag/s: @eyesxxyou, @s4mo-is-dead
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