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rinhaler · 11 days

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I Should Just Walk Away !

His knuckles are split, what are you meant to do? Not tend his wounds? Someone’s gotta do it! It doesn’t mean you’re going to fuck him again. No way.

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors. ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot (and a sprinkle of angst?) Notes: I'm gonna make a masterlist and stuff bc I love this au but I'm lazy pls bear with me! ♡ Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, blood ♡, wound care, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, tit sucking ♡, slight edging?, dacryphilia, m+f masturbation, car sex ♡, vaginal sex, creampie ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, kid), mutual pining ♡, angst??, calls ur pussy she/her ♡, (lmk if i missed any!!) Words: 8k

—

Even after proclamations of love for each other, the rest of the ride home is silent and uncomfortable. In hindsight, it might not have been the best decision to divulge the truth of your tryst with Sukuna to your little brother.

You could try to reassure him. But what would be the point? You’re only a few years older than him, yet somehow, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a teenager. When you were Megumi’s age, though, you had parents.

They were alive.

Sure, you were somewhat rebellious but you behaved for the most part. You studied, worked hard, steered clear of ‘bad’ boys. And, as Sukuna so elegantly put it, you’re a ‘snooty doctor’. You’re thankful for that, because without that salary you’d never be able to afford subsidising your brother.

You had your parents.

But you’re all Megumi has.

It’s a little unsettling how quiet he’s actually being. You were bickering not too long ago, you’re taken aback that he seems to have no desire to continue. A fleeting thought that he might be trying to punish you enters your mind.

Your head snaps a few times to look at him, though he doesn’t do the same. There’s a little grimace on his face as he looks at you from the corner of his eyes.

It’s disgust.

“Are we okay?” you wonder, and the way it leaves your lips in a warble must be pathetic for your brother to hear. He scoffs immediately after, still outright refusing to say another word. You make sure to keep an eye on the road, though your gaze can’t help but wander towards your sibling when you get a chance. “I’m just going to make sure he’s patched up properly, okay? He’s not staying the night.”

“As if that matters.” he rolls his eyes.

It should matter. You don’t know what he means, and you don’t dare ask him to elaborate. There’s no reason for you to be scared of a seventeen-year-old. You aren’t. You’re more afraid of disappointing him.

“Megumi…” you take a breath. “It’s late. I think we should talk properly tomorrow.”

He takes a breath not too dissimilar to yours, you aren’t sure if it’s inherited or if it’s a habit he’s picked up from you. Is he mocking you? He doesn’t say much more, shrugging his shoulders is an answer all on its own. And still, it makes your heart twist as anxiety pierces through it like a stake.

“Fine.”

“Really?!” you bark out unintentionally. Maybe he’s more mature than you’ve given him credit for, because agreeing to talk properly is the last thing you expected. Your eyebrows knot briefly, and you look at him again when you reach a red light. “Are you fucking with me? You’re not serious, are you? You’re gonna sneak out in the morning and I won’t see you until—”

“I said fine. Didn’t I?” he grunts. “At least be quiet when you fuck him if you insist on lecturing me in the morning.”

“I’m not doing it again, I told you.” you assure him. “It was a stupid mistake and I regret it but I just wanna make sure his hand is okay. And then I’ll tell him to leave. I promise.”

“Should prob’ly tell him that, ‘cause he won’t stick around once he realises.” you both find yourselves looking in the rearview mirror at the man following behind you at a distance before quickly averting your eyes. “Don’t make promises you’re not gonna keep. You sound like my dad.”

“Ouch, babe. Noted.” you laugh a little despite being genuinely offended.

The rest of the journey is completed with your brain on auto-pilot. You aren’t even sure how you made it home without crashing once you realise you’ve parked perfectly in the driveway.

Megumi snatches your purse and ducks out of the car, making a beeline for the front door. You watch him as you allow your head to gently thud against the headrest behind you; he’s frantically looking for the house keys so he can shield himself from any possible sighting of you and his boss together.

He drops your purse on the ground with little care once he finds what he’s looking for, and you’re startled when you hear a knuckle lightly rap against your window.

“Nice place, princess.” he speaks, though it’s slightly muffled by the closed window.

“Stop calling me—”

“Oi. Pick up the purse.” Sukuna warns your little brother before he can hide indoors.

He looks over his shoulder at you both before slowly crouching down to pick it up. He grips it tight before finally disappearing.

Sukuna gives you room to breathe before offering a hand to help you out. Like you’ve never gotten out of your car before. Instead of taking it, you stare. You stare at his obscenely large hand and can’t help but remember his fingers had been inside of you mere moments ago.

You smile, as politely as you can, before hurriedly chasing after your brother.

He saunters after you with a lazy smirk playing on his features. You only see it when you remember you’d forgotten to lock your car. The sound of his Mercedes locking is a deafening reminder.

You enter your home; he hadn’t even bothered to turn a single light on as he charged straight towards the kitchen. You’d expected him to have locked himself in his bedroom by now. But instead, his silhouette is illuminated by the light emanating from the open fridge.

He grunts when you switch on the living room light, looking at you like a raccoon caught going through the trash as he chomps down on the cereal you’d bought on the way home from work.

“Can you get the first aid kit from the cupboard?” you ask him as you take off your coat and throw it down over the back of the couch. “You shouldn’t be eating so late, y’know.”

“I’m starving. I didn’t eat today, ‘m a growing boy, y’know.” he counters. He moves to look through each and every cupboard. He looks at you and shrugs before continuing to eat.

Your eyes are both directed to the sound of a gently closing door. You half smile at Sukuna as he enters before you look at your brother again in contemplation.

“Oh I moved it to the bathroom ‘cause we never use it.” you sigh as you make your way there. “You can finish eating in your room if you want.”

“Tryna get me out the way?” he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, I don’t wanna stick around here anyway.” he side eyes Sukuna as he walks with his bowl towards his room.

You don’t see the amused grin he offers your little brother while you retrieve the first aid kit.

If you had, you’re sure you would have sent him home too.

“Sorry,” you groan, setting the kit down on the coffee table. You stand with your hands on your hips as you stare at him. It’s dawning on you, now, regardless of how exhausted you are. You’ve let a man you barely know into your home. A man older and stronger than you’d ever hope to be. You’ve welcomed a criminal into the space that is meant to be the safest for your little brother.

“I’m not gonna kill ya, sweetheart.” he cuts through your thoughts as if he can read your mind. It makes your heart race, though your face remains stoic as you try and disguise your evident worry. “Last thing I wanna do is scare you, though. I’ll go if you’re—”

“No, it’s fine.” you interject. “I’m tired, though. I’m gonna get changed because I wanna go straight to sleep after this, okay? You’re not staying.”

“Shame, I had fun.” he grins, circling the couch before sinking into it. His body is angled towards you while his eye looks you up and down with purpose. “Get comfy, I’ll be right here waiting for you, darlin’.”

Even someone as headstrong as you can’t deny how giddy he makes you. You walk backwards, unable to take your eyes off him before you eventually find your bedroom. Everything he says is so intentional, it’s almost vindictive. Like he knows just what to say to have you weak at the knees for him.

But this isn’t you.

You’ve never been the type to fall for a man’s alleged charm quite so easily. But you also didn’t think you were the type of person to fuck a stranger. He isn’t exactly a stranger, though.

He’s Megumi’s boss.

“Stop calling him that.” you whisper to yourself as you try and break yourself out of your spiralling train of thought.

You dress yourself in the most unflattering pyjamas you can find, wearing them with the full expectation of turning Sukuna off of you. He can’t possibly still be angling to fuck again when he sees you in mismatched pyjamas, complete with aged holes and stains from that one spaghetti night you and Megumi attempted.

There’s a feeble attempt made at wiping your makeup off, although you barely try. Your smile is almost blinding as you look at what a mess you are. The panda eyes from your smeared eyeliner and mascara enhance your sunken eyebags. Your eyeshadow glitters across the bridge of your nose and into your hairline beside your temples. Your pretty lipstick that you’d lined so perfectly is half removed while the other half is smudged down your chin.

You emerge from your bedroom with a confidence you only ever experience when you’re at home in your comfiest clothes. Despite your appearance, and even despite your company, you’re so content.

His eyes squint as he looks at your face, and even still, he’s smiling. He chuckles softly as you get closer to him, sitting beside him as you open the first aid kit.

“You look way prettier like this, princess.” he tells you, folding his arms across his chest as he continues to stare.

“Ah! Really? You think I look prettier?” you ask sarcastically.

“No, you look awful.” he laughs. “Is this all for my benefit? I still want to fuck you, admirable attempt though.”

You shake your head and roll your eyes as he laughs a little more, and you force yourself to frown when you realise his laughter is contagious. Everything he does is so effortless; you can’t remember the last time you genuinely smiled so hard it hurt your cheeks.

His eye fixates on you as you begin to look through your little first aid kit and pick a few things to use on his knuckles.

“I’m sure you could have done this yourself,” you start as you pick up a packet of antiseptic wipes and begin to clear the blood surrounding his knuckles. “Could have gone to a walk-in place if you were really worried.”

“Of course I could. Been doing this for years, did you really believe I don’t have my own first aid kit?” he asks. “I wanted you to do it.” he confesses, though he’s no longer smiling. You don’t stop wiping away the combination of wet and crusted over blood on his hand, though you can’t help but stare back at him.

Is he trying to scare you?

“You’re unbelievable.” you tell him, quietly.

“It’s hard to do it with one hand, sweetheart. And you’re a professional, I’d have to be an idiot to do it myself.”

You look away, only to pour rubbing alcohol onto a clean wipe. He can’t help but be transfixed as he watches you, admiring how your dainty little hands are so delicate with the equipment. How your face appears so irritated as you perform tedious tasks such as this, but you do it regardless, and he thinks it’s sweet.

“You should be on my payroll,” he finally smiles again. “My private doctor.”

“No.” you shut him down.

“I forgot how stuck up you are. I thought you’d at least be fununtil tomorrow.”

“Be grateful I’m doing this at all.” you reply with ease. All enjoyment and giddiness over his company seems to be a distant memory as you recall the type of man he actually is. You’re grouchy and exhausted, and he’s testing your patience. “I don’t like you and I don’t like what you do. And I hate that you’re involving Megumi.”

“Lighten. Up.” he warns you.

You press the wipe quickly into his cuts, and you can’t help but smile as he winces from the abrupt stinging pain. You laugh harder as he tries to downplay it. His expression becomes unreadable as he tries to appear detached. You can see it in his visible eye, though. It’s watering.

He can’t help but break at the sound of your laughter, however, as you continue to snicker whilst rummaging through for a roll of gauze to wrap around his knuckles.

“I usually don’t crack when I do that myself. You wanted it to hurt.” he smirks, shaking his head.

“Guilty.” you continue to giggle as you face him again.

He doesn’t say another word as he watches you wrap a thick enough layer of bandages around his bloody knuckles. The somewhat shallow lacerations seem to cause slight discomfort despite being taken care of. You watch him, purposefully, as he flexes his fingers a few times to test how it feels.

You aren’t sure if he knows you’re staring, but his guard seems down. It could be an act to disarm you, but you aren’t convinced he’s a good enough actor to pull it off. The genuine curiosity and intrigue on his face due to your handiwork makes you feel off. Is he judging your ability to provide proper care?

It’s not like you wanted to.

But you both know that’s a lie.

He grins when he finally notices you staring at him. And that makes you relax. You were right, he was genuinely lost in thought despite being in your presence.

“You should go now,” you say quietly. You angle your body to rest your arm over the back of the couch, your balled fist supporting your head as you begin to yawn. “I’m tired.”

“Sure.” he nods, moving to stand before relaxing into the soft seating. “I need your number.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yeah, ya need to give it to me sweetheart,” he smirks, mirroring your body language. “Need it so I can tell you when I wanna see you again.”

You scoff, shaking your head defiantly at his bold claim. The thought of him clicking his fingers for you to come running like a loyal lap dog is almost enough to make you gag. You’d slap him if it wasn’t so late, you’re too tired and you don’t want to cause a fuss for Megumi or your neighbours.

“You’re never gonna see me again,” you smile, biting your lip as you look him up and down. “And you’re not seeing Megumi, either. He’s done with your little fight club. And I’m done with you, period.”

“Aren’t you meant to be smart? Concerning that a doctor could be so naïve.” he squints slightly as he regards you, looking you up and down as you had him. You’re so sure of yourself, he can’t help but wonder if you’ve forgotten about your current appearance. “I’ll be seein’ you both again. Megumi isn’t quitting. And I like you, and I’m not the type of man to give up things I like.”

“Tough shit,” you laugh lightly. “You’re gonna have to find another poor woman to pester. I’ve got enough going on without dealing with a loser like you.”

“A loser? Really?” he chortles. “You were moaning on my dick and calling me daddy earlier. Now I’m a loser?”

“Shut up.”

He leans in close to you, noses almost touching and his smile widens further as he sees how glittery your face is from your poor makeup removal. “Are you only going to be nice to me when I fuck that brat out of you?”

You turn your head away, your heart racing as your body betrays you. The want and desire bubbles in the pit of your stomach. But you can’t. You know you can’t; because you promised.

He isn’t special.

Sukuna is not special.

“You’re not fucking anything out of me.” you tell him, peering out of the corner of your eye to see him look a little surprised at your declaration. He thought you were playing hard to get. You aren’t playing. “It was a one-time thing.”

“Really?” he asks, barely missing a beat as he responds. “I don’t understand you. I thought—”

“Of course you don’t understand me. You’ve known me for a few hours. Just because we’ve fucked doesn’t mean you know me.” you remind him. And he nods, he agrees with you. He’d be a fool not to, and the man is no fool. “It was just a heat of the moment mistake. I mean it. I don’t want to see you again and I’m not letting Megumi fight anymore.”

“Why?”

“Why?” you scoff. “He’s a child. It’s dangerous. I don’t want him—”

“No, sweetheart. I’m not stupid, I know why you don’t want him to fight anymore. Do I look like a moron to you?” he asks, voice gruff and harsh as he interrupts without a care. His temper is visible and rising as he begins to run out of patience for your attitude with him. “Why don’t you want to see me?”

“Because you’re shady and I don’t want to upset my brother. He’s already upset, I don’t want to make it worse.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“Excuse m—”

“That’s a reason why Megumi doesn’t want you to see me. Yeah I’m a little shady, but you like me. I know you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have let me come over here, see where and how you live, and tend my wounds like a good girl.” he sneers.

“Fine. I don’t like you and I don’t want to have a platonic relationship with a criminal. Let alone a romantic one. What happened earlier was a mistake.”

“… You’re lying.” he says, and it’s curt. You cross your arms over your chest and shake your head with an amused laugh as you digest his denial. How he can sit there and act so full of himself when you’re being perfectly clear is beyond you. It’s jarring.

You jolt as you feel thick fingers lightly grip your jaw. Your wandering gaze is now brought to him. Your eyes forced to fixate on the placid expression plastered across chiselled features.

“I see you, princess. You don’t wanna see me because you want to get mixed up with a criminal, and you’re scared of that. I see you.”

You stare at him, licking your lips not so discreetly as he continues to cradle your jaw. His lips curl at the sight of the little pink muscle slipping between your lips to wet them. You’re angry. Furious at yourself for letting him touch you, hold you, like this. And you hate yourself, right now. Maybe even more than you hate him, too.

Because he’s right.

Your lack of action gives him cause to stare down at your shimmering lips, it’s a warning. A silent announcement for what he’s about to do. He doesn’t let go, but his head tilts. He leans in closer to you, daring to give you what you both know you want.

And again, he’s thwarted.

You turn away, unable to look at him right after this time.

“… You should go, now.” you tell him.

He sighs, but pulls away. You almost mewl as his thumb softly swipes across your chin. And when he withdraws it, you feel your body fill with loneliness. Your skin feels colder.

And it hurts, because he’s on the right track. You’re pushing him away because of Megumi. But deep down, as much as you crave him right now, you know it’s the right thing to do. You jolt a little as he abruptly stands up from the couch, the breeze from his movement makes you freeze.

He sees it.

“Go to bed, you’ll warm up.” he says bluntly before making his way towards the front door. He stops as he grabs the handle, holding up his bloodied knuckles. “Thank you, for the first aid.”

“It’s… it’s fine. No problem. Goodnight, S-Sukuna.” you say, cursing yourself for the audible whine in your words despite your attempted conviction. You watch him as he grabs the handle before turning to face you again.

“Come with me.” he tells you, curling the tip of his index finger. “I need to give you something, don’t argue. For once.” he demands.

You’re compelled to follow, in spite of his demeaning way of summoning you. You truly don’t want him to leave, you don’t want him to go, so any extra time you can spend with him, you’ll take.

He walks ahead of you, leaving you shivering in the doorway as you try and preserve any warmth you can. He opens the door to his car and turns around, a little bewildered that you aren’t right behind him. It makes you giggle to see him look around in search of you before he finally spots you still at the front door.

“Come here.”

You close the door and rush to his side, quickly looking back to make sure Megumi isn’t looking for you. He rests his arm atop the roof of his Mercedes, before holding out a small piece of paper between his fingers to you.

It’s a business card.

“What kind of thug needs a business card?” you ask before you even think about what you’re saying. He scoffs, squinting at you.

“You’ve only fucked me once, you don’t know me.” he smirks. And at that, you can’t help but laugh. “What you said… makes it seem like we’ll learn more about each other if we keep fucking.”

“I don’t want to know you, Sukuna.” you sigh, reluctant to keep up the charade. Reluctant to keep pretending he doesn’t excite you. To keep pretending the few hours you’ve spent with him haven’t been the liveliest your life has been in years. Maybe ever, really. “I can’t be selfish, you don’t get it.”

“You’d be surprised.” he says, abruptly. “Why did you follow me out here if you don’t want to know me?”

“Because you asked me to, you said you wanted to give me something…”

“You could have said no. Do you always do what people tell you? You wanted to. I wanted you to. And now you’re here, you have my number. If you want to be selfish… you know where I am.”

“I don’t—” you sigh, shivering aggressively before you push his card back into his chest. “I don’t need this.”

He grabs your wrist hellbent on sending you away with this one little piece of the puzzle of his life. A way to talk to him again if you change your mind. He’s giving you access, he wants you to take it, desperately.

He crouches down, levelling his head with your own so his one, uncovered eye is levelled with yours. He can’t help but smile, it’s almost maniacal, as he watches your resolve falter under his glare.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good, kid.” he grins. “And you’re not all that smart, for a doctor.”

Your face burns with heat. And you can’t tell if it’s rage or lust. Do you want to kiss him or kill him? You don’t know, you don’t know. His smile grows wider as he realises what he’s done to you. Your faces are so close to each other and this time you can’t will yourself to turn away. You can’t submit, not after this.

“I’m smarter than you.” is all you can think to say. It feels pathetic and phoned in. And he reads it, too, by the ever-growing look of amusement on his face.

“I don’t doubt that.” he nods. “What’s got you all hot ‘n bothered, hm? ‘Cause I called you a dumb li’l doctor? Or ‘cause daddy, called you kid?”

You feel your face sear further. So much so you can even detect each and every drop of sweat beading at your hairline. You’d forgotten it was freezing outside, instead trying to find a way to subtly cool yourself.

“You d-didn’t even call me dumb. I’m not.” you say, stuttering over yourself like a true idiot as you try and gain some semblance of composure through this agonising conversation.

He closes the already small distance between you, placing his hand on the small of your back and pulling you towards him. Your eyes flutter closed under his as he examines you. His head tilting and turning, forcing himself in your line of view.

“I am learning more about you. Should we fuck about it, sweetheart?”

“What are you—”

“Do I remind you of your old man, hah? I bet that’s it… was daddy never proud of you?” he chuckles darkly, carding his fingers through your hair as he stares down at you. “S’that why you like me, darlin?”

“Shut up.” you respond, voice meek and pathetic as you wrestle with your will and want. His fingers lace through your hair, delicately holding the crown of your head before you find yourself being pulled closer still. His lips ghost yours, and he’s a tease. He’s such a fucking tease.

“Got a thing for older guys who talk to you like shit… I see it. Get too much respect at your little doctor job all day. Do you like being talked down to, hm? No wonder you like a thug like me.”

“You don’t know what you’re— You d-don’t even know.”

“Yeah? I don’t?” he asks, his tone melodious and teasing. His head tilts back, the feel of his lips intensely teasing yours soon broken as he does. But you look up to him, eyes full of anguish and sorrow like a kicked puppy who doesn’t know what it wants. You hate him and the reason is clear.

You don’t hate him at all.

You just hate that he’s right.

“I think I’m right. I think you’ve got daddy issues, and you like it when I call you kid.” you turn away as he speaks. But almost as quickly as you do, he’s forcing you to look at him again. His ruby eye flaring, an expression all of its own. A warning, a look of command. A look of lust. “Am I right, baby? Is your little cunt soaked ‘cause I call you kid?”

“… I have to go.” you say, quietly.

“Sure.” he smirks.

A sense of déjà vu overwhelms you as you recognise in his smile that you’ve done this dance before. You can’t move and you can’t speak. There is no desire in you to leave him now and return to your home, your bed, like you should.

All you can do is stare. Your eyes fixated on the man who has just read you like a book. His amused expression doesn’t falter. He’s patient, surprisingly. You wouldn’t have painted him as a man with patience. But looking at him now, you know he’d be willing to wait all night if he had to. He’d wait for the sun to rise just to prove a point.

But he doesn’t need to.

You lunge forward, your hand cupping his face as you break the boiling tension between you and seal your acceptance with a scalding kiss.

He won.

He told you before, he doesn’t lose.

Your lips suctioning and pecking at his would make you embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. He welcomes it, too, meeting yours with just as much urgency. He wraps his arms around your back as you slip your tongue between his lips, allowing them to tangle and swirl in a passionate encounter.

He chuckles into it as you curse. Curse him, curse his name. You can’t believe he’s reduced you to this, again. Your heart heaves in your chest, and you break away just to instruct him.

“Open the fucking back door.”

He laughs again, keeping hold of you as he guides you in a way he can carry on kissing you and still do as he’s told. He ducks in first, pulling you in with him right after. You grind your hips against his heavy bulge as he closes the door after you. He looks up to admire you, to adore you.

“You smeared your makeup like a fucking idiot so I wouldn’t fuck you,” he laughs. “And look at you, humping my cock like a desperate little pet.”

“Shiiiit, I forgot I’m a mess.” you sigh, though you don’t really care. You wrap your arms around his neck, keening as his heavy palms grip your thighs press you flush against his body. “This is the last time. I m-mean it.”

“Whatever you say, princess.” he says, smugly.

You dismiss it, too enamoured by the feeling of his bulge alone as you continue to grind down hard and purposefully onto him. He’s relaxed, allowing you to take the lead and go at your own pace.

It’s embarrassing, really, you’re not as experienced as he seems to be. He’s older. And you hate to admit it, wiser. When it comes to encounters such as this, anyway. You’re smart and well read, sure, but casual hook ups are foreign to you.

You’ll keep that to yourself for as long as you can, you can’t think of anything worse than giving Sukuna that little tidbit of information about you. That he is only the third guy you’ve fucked.

He hit the nail on the head back at the club, but you can’t let him know that.

“Let me feel.” he mutters. His hand holds your hip to keep you in place. Another snakes down into your sleep shorts, his mouth falls open with an amused chuckle as he touches you. “Still full’a me, baby. Bet I’ll slide right in.”

His fingers play with your pussy without any real goal. And still, it makes you delirious. He smears the evidence of your previous tryst around your folds, and he watches with conviction as his fingers circle your clit.

He withdraws them, briefly, to move your shorts into the crease of your thigh. You watch him, and he doesn’t take his eye off you, either. Your lower lip droops as you admire him. Truthfully, you’ve never been in the presence of someone so domineering as him. He is the true definition of a red-blooded male.

Sukuna is huge. In the literal sense, he is unnaturally tall. His build is enormous, his hand is larger than your face. But his aura alone is enough to fill an entire room with an ambience that he sees fit. He could instil fear into the minds of men just because he wills it.

Unfortunately for you, you are not immune to his will.

“You’re so pent up darlin’, you must work hard. Y’need to relax… no wonder you can’t keep your hands off me.” he says. It could be read as demeaning. You think it should be. And yet, you don’t detect any malice from him. He makes a show of spitting on his fingers, keeping eye contact with you as the ‘ptuh’ sound leaves his lips. It makes you shudder.

Though when he touches you with such purpose, so lewdly, a whine you never knew you could make leaves your lungs. He looks up at you like you hung every star in the sky as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. The ‘shlick’ suctioning sounds of your already tainted walls couldn’t possibly be any louder.

He sees how embarrassed you are, but he doesn’t care. Your nose crinkles and your eyes close softly. He curls his fingers and his palm flattens against your clit. And you cry out for him, lurching forward as you wrap your arms around his head rather than his neck. He’s surprised to see your hips rock against his touches, riding his fingers like it’s the only contact you’ve ever known.

His free hand reaches up to tug down your vest. His tongue is flat and wide as he sticks it out to lick your bare tits. He isn’t rough, he isn’t aggressive, he isn’t rushing. He sensually swirls his tongue over your nipples, breathing heavily on occasion before he kisses them. You whimper when he sporadically skims his teeth across them. There’s no bite. No effort. He just wants to hear you cry for him like that. It’s like his teeth are barely there, just enough that you know they are.

“Do you touch yourself?” he mumbles against your skin. You can’t bear to look at him after hearing that. You pretend you didn’t, moaning louder as a diversion. It’s fruitless, and apparently you aren’t a good actress. He yanks your hair and forces you to look at him. His fingers stop, and your body writhes from the loss. “Don’t do that again. Answer me.”

“S-Sukuna…” you fuss. The feeling of your building pleasure being torn away from you is making you stupid. It’s pathetic. And yet, in spite of how humiliating it is, you’re still rolling your hips in a bid to get the feeling back. His expression falters to one you can’t read. You think it’s annoyance, but it’s so detached and expressionless. You yelp as he withdraws his fingers completely, with no time to feel the loss when he grabs your face with his slick-coated hand.

“I want to know if you make your pretty pussy cum after a hard day at work.” he says calmly, a low rumble in his chest as the words roll plainly from his tongue. Your eye contact falters as you notice him pulling at his sweatpants in search of his aching length. “And I want you to show me how you touch her. So go on, answer my question.”

“I… I—” you stumble. You watch him intensely as he frees his throbbing cock. He wraps his fist around himself and lazily strokes. He still glares at your features. While you’re utterly captivated by his cock.

It looks so angry. Too pretty and perfect to be real, you think. But somehow, it is. You think he’d be better suited as a porn star than a criminal with an asset like that. He spends an extra second squeezing his length just below the tip when he strokes himself, it’s like he’s ringing all of the pre out that he can. It dribbles out of his slit, coating his tip the more he summons. It’s beguiling.

You suppose you hadn’t really had a chance to admire him back at the club. It was so heated and hasty. Now, it’s purposeful. You look at his face again when you realise this is what he wants. He wanted you to look at how he touches himself and how gorgeous his cock is. He wants you to see how big he is and how much he aches and throbs when he needs to be buried in a sweet little cunt.

He wants the memory of this to stain your mind.

“I d-don’t.” you confess. “Not much… I’m always tired. Busy.”

“Mhmm… I can tell.” he nods, his voice is somewhat sympathetic. “Come here, princess. Sit on it.”

His hand grips into your hip while he lines himself up with your entrance. You don’t fight him, you don’t hesitate. You let him push you down, you eagerly suck him in. Your eyes roll back as you feel him swell through your walls. Even after taking him earlier, you’d forgotten how monstrous he feels inside. And this time, somehow, he feels bigger.

“Fu-uck,” you gasp as his tip immediately nudges at your sweet spot. You hold his shoulders and hope he’ll assist you. The thought of disappointing him makes you anxious. The idea of him knowing how inexperienced you really are makes you sick.

He throws his head back as your hole swallows him greedily. He looks at you through a heavy-lidded stare, and relief fills you as his hands grab the fat of your ass. You moan pathetically as he spreads them. But his ultimate goal is to bounce you on his cock. You feel weightless in his hands as he helps you. Each steep drop down onto his length makes your throat tight.

He's there.

You feel him there.

“Play with yourself, go on. Rub her f’me.” he says lethargically.

And your face feels like fire. The foreplay was gasoline and his command is a match. And yet, out of fear of him withholding pleasure from you again, you comply. Your hand slithers between your thighs and you do all you can to pretend you’re elsewhere.

You try and pretend you’re in your room, in your bed. What usually gets you going is a mildly heated scene from a movie or TV show. The sexual tension of an almost kiss makes your face flush, though a lot less than it is now. And you think it’s unbearable to witness sexual tension and not see any resolve, so you scamper to find a video online to suit your needs. Something quick and short as you reach into your nightstand to find your favourite toy.

The thought of being caught by your brother makes you sick so you have to be fast with it. The website you ordered it from assured the toy would be whisper quiet. And you can only hope it’s true. You don’t touch yourself, not without aid. And even then, it’s sparse. You haven’t rubbed your clit with your own fingers in years.

Years of being riled up and having a useless boyfriend who didn’t know what he was doing lead you to finishing yourself off each and every time. And you knew, the moment you got a job and your own income, you’d buy yourself a vibrator.

It’s hard to pretend Sukuna isn’t here, though. It’s hard to pretend you’re in your room with Netflix playing quietly enough in the background it can still cover the sound of soft core moaning from your phone while you vibrate yourself to completion.

Because his cock fills your each and every thought. Every sense you possess is dominated by him. The feel of him stretching you out beyond your limit and repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. The sound of the sticky tacking of his length as he slams you up and down on his pulsing member.

Your vision alternates between his gorgeous gaze and the point where your bodies connect again and again. Your pussy gushes slick and the evidence of your prior combined coupling stains your inner thighs and his crotch.

The scent of your sex fills the car and the heat of your sweaty bodies exacerbates it. Your skin is damp, as is his. And it’s overwhelming. He groans into a chuckle as you moan louder and louder for him. If anyone happens to be awake at this ungodly hour, they’ll no doubt hear you. If anyone looks out of the window, they’ll see how the car rocks back and forth. It turns you on further. The tang of sweat and arousal filling the car. It makes you lightheaded.

“I can— fuck— c-can taste you, daddy…” you whine. He urges you to fall forward so he can kiss you. It forces you to take over, moving your hips on your own as you try and maintain your building pleasure. “You’re too big… can feel you in my throat, Sukuna… tastes so good.”

“Dirty fuckin’ girl.” he smirks, kissing you again. “You’re fuckin’ filthy. Not the good girl you pretend to be, hah?”

You nod, agreeing. He’s right, after all. You’re talking in a way you didn’t know you had in you. He takes over again, holding your rear so he can take full control of your body. He guides you repeatedly until your eyes cross from the pleasure. Your walls tighten, and your throat feels hoarse as you cry out for him.

“Squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight, kid. Don’t be shy. Cum for daddy.” he encourages you.

You cry, at that. Falling forwards to envelop him in your arms as you come undone. He coos, sweetly, kissing your cheeks and licking away your tears. The feeling isn’t lost on you, the feeling of disgust. You’ve never felt happiness or value like you did just now. Realising how right he was about your issues and using them to subdue you.

Your pussy gushes and he moans further, chest roaring as he finally lets his sight drop to see what a pretty mess you’ve made of yourself.

Made of him.

Made for him.

He pushes his thumb into your clit and rubs quickly, further extending your pleasure through it all. You could just about cum again when you feel him shoot another load into you, his warmth filling your womb for the second time today. It makes you feel special. It makes you feel loved.

The very idea of it has you pushing yourself away from him desperately. But he holds you close. His moans are boisterous and uncaring. It’s loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood, you think. And at the very least, you’re sure Megumi will hear if he doesn’t have his headphones on.

His arms wrap tightly around your waist to keep you in place, his feet planted firmly on the floor of the car as he fucks himself into you. He’s sure to empty every last drop into your cunt, his balls slap against your ass as he ploughs into you furiously.

And when he stops, you freeze. You feel cold. You feel filthy.

He doesn’t discard you or try to kick you out. The opposite, really. He’s still holding you close, lightly peppering your chilled skin with kisses. Eventually stopping to rest his head on your chest. He feels you try to move away, but he only holds you tighter.

So you stop trying to leave. And instead, you run your fingers through his hair. He hums contently, at that. And you feel your heart pound harder, a little smile works its way onto your face.

Maybe he’s not so bad.

That thought alone makes you stop. He looks up at you, his stare soft and gentle as he wonders what made you halt your actions so abruptly. Before he can ask what’s wrong, you move to leave.

“I have to go, I really have to go now.” you say bluntly. He huffs, watching as you scramble to put your clothes back in place, clambering off him in a hurry. He doesn’t say anything in response. He watches as you scramble to open the door. Tears of panic begin to fall as you struggle to open it, you frantically pull and push as you try to get away. He leans over, and with little effort, he opens the door for you.

“Goodbye.” he says, simply.

“G-Goodbye.” you respond, ducking out and briskly walking to your front door.

You take a deep breath when you get there, preparing for the possibility that Megumi is about to greet you and bite your head off. Sukuna doesn’t move. He stays in the back seat and watches you with a sombre expression. With no inclination of what happened to change your mood, he can only assume he stepped out of line.

He doesn’t want to leave just yet. At least not until he knows you’re safely inside.

As you grab the handle of the door and push, your heart sinks.

“No, no, no… d-don’t do this to me now.” you sob, hysterically fiddling and pushing the door. You stupidly think that you just need to try harder and it will open. But no such thing comes to pass. You’ve locked yourself out.

Sukuna sits upright when he realises, watching as you slowly turn to look at him. His hand folds, gesturing for you to come closer. And with no other option, you do. Your phone is inside as well as your car keys. You can’t text Megumi to tell him what you’ve done. And even if you could, he’d only come outside to see that you’ve let him down. Again.

“Silly girl.” he says, looking at you with a weak smile when you finally approach. You duck down to look at him, not willing to get inside with him. “Do you want to come to my place? I’ll bring you back in the morning.” he suggests.

“I’m not fucking—”

“You can stay in a different room.” he answers your obvious assumption with a reasonable response. And still…

“N-No. I don’t want to go to your house.”

“Then I guess we’re sleeping in the car. Come on.” he sighs. He waits until you get in, begrudgingly, and then gets out himself. You watch him as he circles to the trunk of his car, looking ahead at your home as you wait for him to return. And he does, with a large, fur blanket.

“Why do you have this?” you wonder.

“I don’t remember. You better not be complaining, sweetheart. You’re lucky I didn’t fuck off right after I came like I usually do. Especially after that little performance.”

“Performance?!” you yell. You position yourself as far away from him as you can in the confined space, sitting as closely to the door as you can. “You just don’t get it! At all.”

“You’ve made that clear, princess. Don’t worry. I’ll steer clear when you get back inside tomorrow. I’m too old to be playing stupid games with little girls who don’t know what they want.”

You huff, covering your legs with the blanket before folding your arms.

“I told you it was a mistake.” you correct him. “I told you I didn’t want to see you or do that again.”

“Shut up.” he shakes his head. “Just go to sleep and we’ll never have to see each other again. Because that’s what you want, yes?”

You pause before speaking. Images of his delicate expression in your arms haunt you. You’d overreacted because of your own cowardice. Because of a promise you evidently had no intention of keeping. It wasn’t a performance. It was just… fear.

“Yes.” you tell him. Your response is bold and scathing.

He doesn’t react, he merely shrugs, adjusting the blanket over his own legs, too. His arms cross over his chest, and his head rests against the window. You can’t see beyond his eye covering, but you assume his visible eye is closed.

You do the same, hoping you fall asleep sooner rather than later.

You’re wrong, though.

His eye is open wide, looking upwards to the light polluted sky. There are a few stars visible, three. He stares at them, thinking about the events of the evening. He hadn’t expected to end up fucking once tonight let alone twice. But when you walked into his club and tried to give him a piece of your mind, he knew.

He knew he’d have to have you.

And he hadn’t expected to be so lucky so have you again, like this. But he can’t put his finger on why things went so sour. It could be one thing or a number of things. He has ideas. He thinks your less complicated than you seem to think you are. You’re keeping him at arm’s length, and that, he understands.

He’s a stranger, but he doesn’t have to be.

He doesn’t want to be.

But what can he do?

He’ll just stare at the stars until he drifts off to sleep.

Maybe things will be different in the morning.

—

chapter one | m.list (working on it) | chapter three

#🦋 — luxe writes #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu #jjk x fem!reader #tw blood #tw daddy kink #tw size difference #tw age gap #tw degradation #tw dacryphilia

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acescavern · 3 months

Text

SAN, WHERE ARE YOU? — CHOI SAN X FEM! READER

Paring: San x Fem!Reader

Genre: Pure smut. No plot whatsoever. There is a sprinkling of fluff if you squint?

wc: 4,825

Synopsis: Your boyfriend invites you to the fancy dress party his frat is holding to celebrate the frats birthday. Only, nobody will tell you what he's dressed as. When you spend half of the party searching for him, Jongho gives away his location.. you're in for a night of fun. One question though, Do you like scary movies?

warnings: smut, smut,smut. Ghostface!San, Velma!reader. Rough sex, unprotected sex, Knife play ( WITHOUT cutting reader. The knife isn't sharp enough for skin), praise, degradation, manhandling, sex in a treehouse, reader's hands get tied, Reader has her view restricted, everything is consented, established relationship, light choking from behind?, reader gets carpet burn. I'm not sure if I've missed something.

note: Hey! it's been a long while. oops. anyway. here, enjoy this badly written San fic! please remember that this is all fiction. This is a little darker than what i've written previously but it's more my vibe ;)

Reblogs are kinder than likes, if you can. Likes can shadowban creators. Any feedback is welcome

You didn't know what you were thinking. For starters, your costume was tight and short. You were sure the Velma outfit looked different online, instead, the material was like a tight second skin that stretched across your chest and the skirt was much shorter than the picture. You were surely careful not to bend or move too much. Your long orange socks weren't meant to be thigh-highs at all. Overall, you'd come to the conclusion that the outfit was more on the verge of a more adult theme that would pass for a party.

You still looked good. In fact, your legs looked amazing in the platform heels Mingi's girlfriend persuaded you into. She claimed that if you'd already gone this far, you may as well go all out. What sold you on the whole outfit was her mentioning that San would go insane and you'd had a knack for winding each other up lately.

So, here you were, at the KQ Frat like every other Friday night. Only this time, it was a special party. The KQ Frat as a whole was turning 5 and they'd let their dearest Song Mingi choose the theme. Okay, maybe he was put on the spot and said 'uhhhm' a lot when he was asked but he eventually stumbled out with the theme of fancy dress.

You pushed the fake glasses up your nose, swearing to yourself at the realization that you could have used your own glasses for this instead of messing around for half an hour trying to put contacts in with shaky hands. You opted to just take them off all together, setting them down on a ledge in the hall. If you had your way, you'd be at home.

Honestly, since you moved in with San things have been a lot better for you both, other than his inability to do the laundry. However, tonight you'd gotten ready at a friend's house and with him being so secretive with his costume, you hadn't a clue what to look for.

The first person you came across was your boyfriend's best friend, Wooyoung. You stifled a laugh, raising your eyebrow at him. “A vampire?” Your fingers ruffled his black and red cape, the material cheap and wrinkled. Wooyoung only rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“It was rushed! San took my costume idea!” He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. Woo’s words came out in a slight lisp, the terrible plastic fangs moving around in his mouth so much that he just ripped them out.

What he said piqued your interest though, an overly friendly smile plastering on your face. “And..what were you going to be, Wooyoungie?” The raised eyebrow look the man gave you had you almost ashamed that you were trying to butter him up to tell you San’s costume. A girl had to do what a girl had to do.

“Don’t ‘Wooyoungie’ me!” His voice raised a pitch as he mocked you, his eyelids rapidly moving to fan his lashes in an imitation of you. “I’m not stupid, ____. San would never let me live it down if I ruined the surprise.”

That was true, Woo was already the brunt of most of the group's jokes. Though lately, they’d dwindled down in public. Anything to help save a crumb of his image in attempts to woo the library girl. You rolled your eyes and lightly whacked his arm, pushing past him with a grumbled goodbye.

The next familiar face you came across nearly took you off your feet, if only it weren't for the person behind you steadying your form. Spiderman and..Chucky? Something about the spiderman felt familiar and as your eyes lit up with hope… they soon dullened when the voice spoke. Yunho. Not San.

“Woah, careful there.” He patted the top of your head in a friendly gesture. Yunho was the most big brother friend you’d ever met and he was the one you went to for comfort whenever you and San fought. He offered the best advice sometimes. It wasn't surprising.

“I’m sorry, ____.” Chucky spoke, adjusting his cap. Except it wasn't Chucky really, it was just Hongjoong, shooting you an apologetic grin. “Have you seen my girl? She’s dressed as the bride of Chucky.” The obvious reveal that he succumbed to the couple's costume agenda had a light blush blossoming at the tips of his ears.

You shook your head, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. "Sorry, Joong. Have you seen San?" His reply was the same as yours.

So, you kept moving, pushing through the sweaty bodies grinding together in time with the heavy thudding of music. Eventually, you managed to push through to the kitchen. Huffing out a breath, you leant against the counter. Where was San? There were so many people here, it was more packed than last year especially with the frat's growing reputation. You glanced around the space from the doorway of the kitchen once more, spotting Yeosang, dressed as Link from the zelda games, talking very animatedly with Seonghwa, who you weren't sure of his character but he looked striking in a white ruffled blouse and half corset. You suspected he was some kind of vampire, judging by the vibe.

“You’re looking for San, I take it.” A casual voice piped up from behind you, startling you to whirl around. There stood Jongho, his face half covered by a cut off white mask. He wore a suit, without the jacket. Instead, a long cape with hand painted gold swirls on the inside. He had obviously done it himself. It was certainly the best effort of Phantom of The Opera you'd seen.

“You know where he is?” Desperation laced your tone, you just wanted to see your boyfriend at this point. San had been teasing you all day over text, telling you that you’d love his outfit. That you would go crazy. He told you that he chose it with you in mind.

Jongho gave a nonchalant shrug, his eyes looking toward the back patio door. “Maybe, try looking out there.” Your shoulders relaxed, a grin overtaking your painted lips. You were about to set off in that direction when he held up a gloved hand. “You didn’t hear it from me, ____. Okay?”

With an endearing eye roll, you brought your fingers across your mouth in a zipping motion that earned you an approving nod. Now, you set off outside carefully, being mindful of the shoes you were wearing. They were practically stilts to you. Your fingers held down the ends of your skirt, worried it might blow up in the breeze. Even though ninety percent of the party goers were indoors out of the cold. Speaking of cold, goosebumps rose against your exposed skin as you squinted through the darkness.

“San?” You called, rounding the pool to the concrete slabs that paved the way to the tree at the bottom of the yard. “Sannie?”

You hated it down here. The frat house was a huge place. You often wondered how on earth the guys managed to score it. But with eighteen people living there, it was much needed. The thing was, with the big house came the big garden. The bottom of the garden, whilst still kept mowed, was mostly unused. Save for a few sheds.. But it was creepy and always sent a chill up your spine. Though that could be the cemetery on the other side of the fence. All in all, with the massive house the guys were sure was haunted and the cemetery backing onto the place.. It was just spooky all around.

You stood for a moment, a shiver running down your spine as a whisper of wind rushed by your ear. “San, come on.. this isn’t funny..” Silence. “I’m cold..” A rustle sounded to your left, your head snapping in that direction.

You began to tentatively approach, trying to make sure your heels don’t sink into the grass. You bit back a scream at the sudden animal sprinting out from behind the shrubbery, your palm pressed against your heart as it pounded in your chest. Your breath left you as a sharp exhale of relief. You chuckled at yourself, shaking your head as you turned.. Though you didn’t get far.

You turned straight into a broad, hard chest. A small scream left you, the masked man's hands reaching out to grip your hips. The figure was wearing a ghostface mask, something sheathed in his belt glinting in the moonlight. Although, the familiarity in the way his strong hand splayed on your body as he held you, you knew it was him.

San’s Ghostface robe was open, revealing his black jeans and a shirt that stretched across his torso. Your eyes once more caught the glint at his waist. “A real knife? San, are you craz-” He said nothing, only span you around with your back to his chest. One of his hands drifted up your body to cover your mouth, it was then that you noticed the leather gloves as you felt them against your skin.

“You look like a treat, ____.” He hushed in your ear, the plastic of his mask bumping against the side of your face with how close his head was to you. “Now, Velma, you think you can climb that ladder?” he pointed a gloved hand to the tree, the stepped ladder made up of wooden slats fixed together. At least it was sturdy.

You nodded mutedly against his hand, resisting the urge to turn to face him when he let you go completely with a part pat to your behind. “Good girl.” His voice was smooth to the ear, “Off you go.” With a nudge to the small of your back, he urged you on.

It was a slight struggle to climb the ladder with the way you were dressed, but San was close behind you. When you made it to the doorway of the treehouse, you waited for him as you stood on the ladder. San slotted his feet either side of yours on the same ladder rung, his body caging you against it as he produced the keys for the door. The tree house was in regular use by the frat, mostly so the house didn’t smell of weed whenever the landlord decided to randomly drop by for house inspections.

The treehouse itself was very sturdily built, with an old bedroom door that was previously Mingi’s and the hole in the middle fixed over with planks of wood screwed in place. The floor was covered in carpet that used to be in Hongjoong’s room. A few beanbags dotted around the place and for lighting there were battery operated fairy lights strung around the square perimeter. It was a cute little hangout that San had quite literally banished everybody from for tonight.

With the door now open, you were about to climb in when San’s hands landed on your waist again. His strong grip practically hauled you up and into the treehouse. With a noise of surprise, you landed on your stomach, scrambling up on your hands and knees to crawl to one of the beanbags. The door shut behind you, you noted San didn’t bother to lock it.

San was silent. You almost wondered if he even came here with you but when his leather clad fingers curled around your ankle and a low chuckle rumbled in the back of his throat. “Where are you going, Baby?” His voice was a mocking coo as he pulled you toward him, your body dragging across the carpet causing your skirt to drift up to your waist. “Didn’t you miss me?” His voice sounded close to your ear again now and you felt his presence close to your back but he wasn’t actually touching you.

“Sa-” He interrupted you, his voice completely dropping his act to murmur to you softly. “Do you trust me?” He stayed poised above you, his body weight on his arms so he’s not touching you.

You twisted underneath him, rolling onto your back to stare up at him. Although, you only saw his mask. Your hands reached out, fingers delicately lifting his mask up for you to see his eyes. His lips quirked at the corners when you cupped his cheeks. “I trust you with my life, Sannie.” You arched your neck up your lips pressing the lightest of kisses to his jaw. “You’re doing good. We spoke about this, remember?” Your thumbs grazed small circles on the apples of his cheeks, San’s brown eyes closing as he leaned into your touch.

It was true. You both had spoken about this forever ago, You’d established the limits and words to use if either of you were uncomfortable. The only thing you both hadn’t settled on was when. You both agreed to keep that a surprise and to San, today was perfect. So, with a sure nod, he lightly battered your hands away from his face to pull the mask back down and sink back into character.

You instead began to let your hands wander over his back, the muscles prominent from holding himself up. When they drifted down to his behind, the intent to give him a playful squeeze, your hands froze. San grinned behind the mask, seeing your eyes light up in surprise. He could see the excitement swimming in them and he knew you’d just encountered the feel of the rope tucked into his back pocket beneath the robe. Perfect opportunity. Your boyfriend rose himself to his knees, his right hand disappearing beneath the black material to pull the soft rope from his pocket. It wasn’t too heavy duty. Actually… it was just the craft string that was tied around his christmas present from you.

San was quick and efficient with the way he pinned your hands to the carpet above your head. He paused, his eyes darting around to search for something to fix them to. His gaze landed on the small table next to one of the beanbags, a grin overtaking his features behind the mask once more. Instead of dragging your body across the carpet again, San pulled the table closer threading the twine string around the leg before fastening both of your wrists against it.

You watched him obediently, pretending to struggle at least a little bit. It added to the excitement after all. San let his eyes properly travel over your body and your outfit in the soft glow of the fairy lights. You couldn’t see his facial reactions but it excited you all the more. The adrenaline of the situation had you panting in anticipation. You felt his fingers brush over your ankle once more, ghosting up, up, up… his hand now cupping over your thigh, leathered index finger brushing the edge of your panties. He was taking his sweet time but his other hand was hovering over the handle of the knife at his waistband. Not yet.

The first thing to go was your tight orange shirt. It was roughly pulled over your head just to expose your torso. With your hands tied there was no way to fully remove it but San liked the way it restricted your arms above your head even further.

“Hm,” he made a sound in the back of his throat. “I think we’ll keep this, what do you think?” Even though he had asked you.. his tone suggested there was no room for negotiation, his fingers tugging at the hem of your skirt just once.

You felt him push the material higher to pool at your waist once more. San’s touch was feather light, teasing as he circled it around your navel and down to your waistline. Now was when his free hand curled around the handle of the knife in his belt. Your breathing hitched, body completely still as you felt the cold metal against your collarbone. Your eyes were staring at the ceiling, lips parted. A sound caught in your throat as he dragged it down your body, you could feel that the blade was dull and not sharp enough to actually cut your skin… it was either that or San was pressing very lightly.

“Shh,” He hushed, letting the point of the blade drag across your hardened nipple over the sheer fabric of your bra. “I’ve got you, now.” The point broke through the fabric, San lifting it away from you to slice your bra cup straight through the middle.

His face appeared in your vision and you could only imagine him looking absolutely elated with how glassy your eyes looked. He tutted, “You’ve seen enough, I think.” He set the knife on your sternum as he pulled your shirt down your arms enough to cover the top half of your head, blanking out your vision.

Your body squirmed between his thighs, small sounds of struggle leaving your parted lips. “San, I wanna see you.” You whined, wrists twisting in their binds before you'd remembered they were currently immobile.

“Keep still.” San warned, his tone was far from the soft and loving boyfriend you usually encountered. San was rarely dominant in bed with you, he preferred to lovingly worship your body and praise you with sweet nothings.

This was pleasantly different. His touch was firmer, his grip harsher and his demands had arousal shooting straight through your body. Like the good girlfriend you were, you stilled. San lifted the Ghostface mask up to uncover his mouth, not that you could even see.

Your body flinched in surprise when you felt cool air blow across your exposed nipple. San could only nod to himself in satisfaction. He loved the reactions he could draw from your body without even touching you. He lowered his mouth further, plush lips enveloping the peaked flesh into his warm mouth.

Your hands clenched into fists, longing to dive themselves into his hair. You were totally restricted, completely at San's mercy. The thought alone had a soft moan drifting into the silence. You felt his touch leave you again, the knife's weight leaving your sternum. You felt the material of your bra pull away from you in the middle, the sound of tearing fabric mixing with your breathing.

Your bra was now loose, the cups falling completely to the sides to expose you further. “Hey.” You protested weakly. That bra was expensive.

San could only laugh softly as he dropped a kiss between your breasts. “She finally talks.” He drawled, the feeling of the cold blade starting back at your collarbone once more.

The sharpness of the thin coldness trailed down your middle, a circle made around your belly button before it lifted from your exposed skin only briefly. You felt it again on your waistline, right where your panties sat. San made an appreciative sound in the back of his throat, flattening the blade to firmly tap it against your clothed center.

The feeling had you mewling beneath him, struggling to stay still. The panties were the next thing to go, San pulling the torn fabric from under you after he had successfully cut it away from your body only to drop the arousal coated garment on your chest.

“Please..” Your beg came as a desperate cry, you needed some sort of relief. The wait was killing you.

You were rewarded with San shushing you yet again. “If you're looking for any mercy here, ____, you're out of luck.”

San's left hand pinned your hips down, his other manning the knife. The knife where he had used the flat of the blade to press it to your, now bare, core. You knew you were wet, you could feel it. Hell, you could hear it when the metal was tapped against you again. Your moan raised a pitch, the hand holding your hips moving and allowing your hips to rock dangerously against the flat of the knife.

“I wish you could see yourself, baby.” San's voice deepened, sounding huskier as he watched you. “My girl. So needy to get off, you're rubbing yourself on a kitchen knife.” He tutted. “Pathetic, don't you think?”

You could think of a single coherent thought. Gasps drawing from you as all you could do was nod and cry out when the surface your hips were working against was removed.

You were sure you would remember this night forever… The thrill rushing through your veins. You thought San had gotten up. You thought he left you there for a moment until his fingers dug into your cheeks, palm holding your jaw tight. He squeezed, forcing your mouth to open. “Tongue.”

It was a one-word demand and yet you knew the instruction, your mouth opening wide to poke out your flattened tongue. San's harsh breathing was heard as he very carefully let the knife rest on the pink muscle. More specifically, the side he coated with yourself. You whined once more.

“Clean it.” San encouraged, watching with interest as you followed his every command and collected your own taste. He was so hard it was painful but he wanted to drag this night out… He thought his decision over, curious, lust blown eyes taking in the sight of you.

You, with your skirt bunched at your waist. You, with your orange thigh high socks, your ridiculous shoes, your arms trussed up above your head, your shirt covering half of your face, your ruined bra exposing your chest, your chest where your ripped panties lie. You, with your trust in him to carry out such fantasies. San was done waiting. He wanted you and he wanted you now.

The loud clang of an object being thrown away was harsh to your ears, the object thudding against the carpet. San had thrown the knife far away from you both, his fingers frantically fumbling with his belt buckle and zipper. “I'm done fucking waiting.” He panted sharply, shoving his jeans and boxers down just enough to let his cock free.

You wished you could see him, you wished you could see how red the swollen tip of his cock was. You wished you could watch the thick vein along his shaft throb before your eyes… the bead of precum smeared across the head. The image had a zing of pleasure pulsing through your clit.

“San, please.” You begged, “Please. I've been good, right?” You hadn't a clue what you were babbling. Your words tumbled out of your mouth quickly before your brain could filter.

San groaned, “Yes, Baby.” You felt him brush against your entrance. “You have.” In one sharp snap forward of his hips, San sheathed himself into your warm, wet pussy. “F-Fuck..” His grip was back on your body again, maneuvering your legs back by your thighs as he gave you time to adjust to the sheer stretch his cock gave you.

San's big palms spread over the backs of your thighs, opting to just gather your ankles in one hand to push your legs back against your torso. You felt the burn of your thigh muscles at your body being bent this way but your main focus was still trying to relax your tight grip around his cock.

“Relax for me.” San murmured, his free hand settling on your pubic area.. you wondered what the purpose of the hand placement was until his leather-gloved thumb made contact with your clit.

San stayed perfectly still as his thumb moved in slow circles, your body eventually relaxing to the pleasure coursing through you. Your chest rose and fell harshly the faster his thumb moved. San watched you through the mask intently, how your facial features slackened. Small moans of his name bounced off the wooden walls of the treehouse, the fairy lights casting a beautiful glow across your skin that San could look at forever.

San knew you were getting close, he knew your body. He knew that when your teeth sunk into your bottom lip it meant you were on the edge of an orgasm and for a moment he felt bad to rip your peak right away from you by stopping his thumb.

“No, no! San, that's not fair!” Your eyes fluttered harshly to adjust as he lifted the shirt from your eyes. Your legs were let go, dropping each side of his body.

San's fingers skillfully untied the knots of your binds, rubbing at the marks on your wrists for a mere moment. He pulled completely from you, your expression frowning in confusion.

“What are yo–” You were roughly rolled onto your stomach, your body manhandled so you were on your knees and your naked torso was flush to the carpet. “Fuck!” Your curse abruptly escaped you as he entered you once more without warning, San's pelvis flush to your behind.

Your fingers grip on the carpet was torn away when San gathered your arms behind your back, wrists tethered together once more with the twine. “Stay fucking still.” He grunted, a harsh swat of his hand smacking your ass cheek eliciting a long moan from you.

He gave another swat to the other cheek. Matching red hand prints on display. Punishment for trying to lift your head. It didn't matter anymore, San fixed that problem by keeping a hand closed around the back of your neck, the side of your face roughly rubbing against the carpet with each hard thrust of his hips.

San fucked you like a man possessed, not a single break between thrusts. His belt jingled with his rapid movements. “See what you get when you do as you're told for once, hmm?” His voice was broken with his own noises of pleasure.

You weren't much better, your mouth permanently open with screams of his name and the word ‘yes’ repeating on loop. Your brain felt hazy, pleasantly so. You weren't even aware of your volume or even the patch of drool soaking the floor under your mouth. San had never fucked you like this before.

“You're so fucked out you haven't even noticed you're being fucked raw.” The pressure on your neck increased, a garbled noise from you being muffled by the floor.

You barely registered San's free hand fumbling around for something until the light of his phone screen was shoved in front of your face. The camera app. The idea had your thighs trembling. Your face had a far away look to it, one you hardly recognized as yourself. You watched pliantly as San propped the device against the table leg that your hands were previously tied to before hitting the capture a few times.

San could feel you shaking against him, his hips stuttering a moment when you clenched around him. The arm that wasn't holding you down snaked around you, his fingers finding your clit to rub fast, tight circles.

He'd never heard you scream so loud when the orgasm wracked through your body. Toes curling in your heels, nails digging into your palms. The feeling slammed into you abruptly, rippling through your pussy. Anyone outside would think you were being murdered.

San tore the mask off his face, his head tipping back on a long guttural moan. You knew he'd just come inside you, you'd know what that sound meant anywhere. Even if you didn't feel the slow softening of his cock, or the excess come smear on your skin as his thrusts slowed to a stop.

The both of you were panting harshly. San gently patted your waist, letting go of your neck to work on untying your wrists again. “Wow.” You huffed, arms falling limply to the floor with exhaustion. The cool breeze felt nice against your heated, sweat sheened skin.

He hummed in light agreement, his palms coasting up and down your back and sides for a moment before he withdrew from you. San was quick to reach up to the small table for the box of tissues he had brought up here when he prepared the treehouse that morning.

Your boyfriend always prided himself with being gentle with your aftercare. San made sure to clean your abused pussy as best he could in that moment before he gathered your limp body in his arms. “My limbs don't work.” You mumbled, your head resting on his shoulder as San brought you both to one of the big bean bags. His touch was the most gentle it had been all evening, palms trying to rub some warmth and life back into your body.

“Mmh, That was definitely something..” San agreed, draping a blanket over you both.

The two of you sat there in the blissful afterglow for a while. Bodies tangled together, your head against San's shoulder and your fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck and San's own hands lovingly rubbing over your body to soothe you.

After a few minutes, your fingers stopped and San was sure you'd fallen asleep until–

“I have carpet burn on my cheek.”

©️acescavern, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted or translated and reposted. reblogs are accepted.

#Choi San #ateez #acescavern #Ateez smut #ateez fluff #san atz #atz smut #san smut #san x reader #san fanfic #san fluff #san #san ateez #ateez san #choi san smut #choi san x reader #choi san #atz

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lesbianloml · 6 months

Text

my babysitter au

the first kiss

types of piece(s): imagine, oneshot, drabble, series

type(s) of writing: smut, angst, fluff, dark (the story will contain all of the above)

pairing(s): milf!dom!dark!wanda maximoff x innocent!sub!immune!witch!fem!reader

warning(s): legal age gap (wanda is 33, reader is 21), obsessive wanda, sorta pervy wanda, maybe?, nothing mostly fluff and plot shit

summary: wanda met you for the first time three days ago. when she runs into you again at the bake sale at the elementary school, she is thrilled. but wanda is overjoyed when the two of you make a deal that will let her see you everyday.

a/n: I know I've been gone FOREVER but I'm back with part 2 of this series. I hope you guys like it, and if you have any ideas or requests, let me know!

you groan as you lean over and press snooze on your alarm. 5am is way too early to wake up, but you need to finish baking and packaging all the treats for the bake sale this afternoon. you sigh, before climbing out of bed and beginning your morning routine. you shower, put on a cute brown mini dress before heading to the café. you sigh as you look around the empty shop, before pulling on an apron and starting your work.

*hours later*

you startle awake at the sound of your phone ringing. you gasp as you check the time. its 3:30pm, the bake sale starts in 30 minutes, and you haven't even begun to load everything up and set up your table. you check the caller id. dottie. you sigh heavily before answering the call. "hello?" you ask, your voice sugary sweet. "y/n y/l/n! where in the world are you? you were supposed to be here an hour ago to help set up! you're 21 years old, you should be more responsible than this!" as dottie rambles on and on, you sigh. "dottie? give me 5 minutes, I'm on my way." you hang up, ignoring her protests as you quickly load your car with the wrapped treats from the bakery, all made by you.

you speed down the road, and quickly turn into the almost full school parking lot. you scramble out of your car and as you close your door, you turn to be face to face with wanda. "wanda! you scared me!" wanda smiles at your expression. "sorry, detka. you're here for the bake sale right?" wanda asks, looking at you with a look you're unable to read. "yup thats what im here for." wanda turns quickly as two boys come speeding around the parking lot. "billy, tommy! come here. I have someone i want you to meet." you gasp as the boys come speeding past you, a silver blue blur before coming to a halt in front of you.

"y/n, this is billy and tommy. billy and tommy, this is y/n." you smile, looking at them both kindly. "which one of you is super speedy?" you ask. "I am!" tommy pronounces proudly. "would you two like to help me set up my booth?" "we would love to, y/n!" billy says. strangely formal for a 10 year old, but you don't question it. for the next 15 minutes, you spend with the boys, laughing and giggling at tommy's antics as they help you set up your booth. it gets done much quicker with the maximoff's help then it's would've if you had done it alone.

you smile at the sight of your booth, ready just in time as all the parents and children begin filing in. "as a thank you for your help, you three get first pick of the treats." you say, gesturing to the variety of sweet treats you have set out on your table. tommy immediately goes for a huge triple chocolate cookie. you laugh, sharing a shy glance with wanda. billy walks slowly over to the table, and carefully surveys his options before choosing a cupcake with sprinkles. wanda walks over to the table after the boys scatter to go say hi to their friends. wanda grabs a cinnamon pastry and pops it in her mouth. her eyes brighten as she chews slowly. "did you make all of this on your own, y/n?" you smile sheepishly. "yes, i did. do you like it?" you ask, subtly asking for her approval. as wanda finishes chewing, she lets out a soft moan of satisfaction. a faint blush coats your cheeks at the noise, your eyes drifting to places they shouldn't.

"y/n? did you hear me?" wanda asks sweetly. people are beginning to drift over to your booth, the wonderful delectable smells drawing them. "sorry wanda. what was that?" you turn your attention to her for a moment before beginning to serve the customers in front of you. "i would just like to speak to you after the bake sale, ok darling?" dottie approaches the table, eyes on wanda to drag her off somewhere. "of course wanda! ill meet you in a little while" you say, flashing her a sweet smile. you continue serving the lengthy growing line in front of you, your attention drifting back to where it needs to be.

wanda's jaw drops as she sees you in your car speeding around the corner. wanda walks swiftly over to your car, standing behind your car door. "wanda! you scared me!" wanda smiles at your face expression. just you saying her name in your pretty little voice, it slipping out your plump lips. it makes her want to bend you over right here and make you scream it. "sorry, detka. you're here for the bake sale aren't you?" she mentally curses herself. what a stupid question, of course that's what you're here for. she feels like an idiot, but you don't even seem to notice. "yup, that's what i'm here for!" wanda hears tommy and billy giggling, and she wants you to meet her sons more than anything in that moment. if her plan works, soon you and her sons were going to be well acquainted.

"billy, tommy! come here, i have someone i want you to meet." wanda smiles when you gasp as the boys come speeding past you in a silver blue blur. "y/n, this is billy and tommy. billy and tommy, this is y/n." wanda watches as you smile widely, then give them a teasing look. "which one of you is super speedy?" you ask. "i am!" tommy pronounces proudly. "would you two like to help me set up my booth?" "we would love to, y/n!" billy says. wanda chuckles softly at billy. so formal, so sweet. for the next 15 minutes, wanda and her boys spend time with you, laughing and giggling together at tommy's antics as they help you set up your booth. wanda is thrilled at how well you, billy, and tommy are getting along. you guys almost seem best friends already.

wanda watches you smile at the booth setup, happy that you like it. "as a thank you for your help, you three get first pick of the treats." wanda's smile widens as tommy immediately goes for the huge triple chocolate cookie. he's so predictable. you laugh, and wanda shares a glance with you. you're so shy, so beautiful it makes her want to scream. billy walks slowly over to the table, and carefully surveys his options before choosing a cupcake with sprinkles. utterly predictable. wanda walks over to the table after the boys scatter to go say hi to their friends. wanda grabs a cinnamon pastry and pops it in her mouth. her eyes brighten as she chews slowly. it is incredible. she's almost shocked. "did you make all of this on your own, y/n?" wanda asks, her voice filled with wonder. you smile sheepishly. "yes, i did. do you like it?" you ask, subtly asking for her approval.

how cute. wanda knew you would be the perfect wife for her. as wanda finishes chewing, she lets out a soft moan of satisfaction. she knows what she's doing as a faint blush coats your cheeks at the noise. she watches your eyes drift to the places she wants them to be glued to the most. "can i talk to you after the bake sale?" wanda asks, but notices your attention trailing. "y/n? did you hear me?" wanda asks sweetly. people are beginning to drift over to your booth, the wonderful delectable smells drawing them. "sorry wanda. what was that?" your attention is on her for a moment before you begin to serve the customers in front of you. you're so sweet. wanda thinks so many dirty thoughts about you, that she wants to say to you now. she restrains herself, not wanting to scare you away. "i would just like to speak to you after the bake sale, ok darling?" wanda almost lets out a groan of dread when dottie approaches the table, her predatory gaze fixed. "of course wanda! ill meet you in a little while!" as dottie drags wanda away, wanda's gaze is fixed on you the entire time, hearts in her eyes.

after the bake sale, you and wanda meet up in the parking lot. the boys are konked out in the back of wanda's suv, their sugar high short lived. "what did you want to talk about wanda?" you ask, shivering as the fall chill falls over you. wanda immediately removes her jacket, offering it to you. "here detka. wouldn't want you to be chilly." wanda waits for you to slip it on before speaking again. "i wanted to offer you a job. i've found a job downtown, and I was just wondering if you'd like to start babysitting billy and tommy during the week or whenever I need it. my job requires a lot of travel. and of course, I would pay you double what you make right now at the café.." wanda rambles, but her breath catches as you lay a sweet hand on her arm. "oh wanda, I would love to! I already feel so close with billy and tommy, like I've known them for years. maybe we could meet up sometime over coffee and talk some more? i'm sure you're eager to head home." you say, nodding to the boys sleeping in the back of wanda's car.

wanda nods. "of course. that would be perfect, sweetheart. here, ill put my number in your phone. ill text you, okay?" you smile, handing wanda your phone. wanda enters her number, and hands your phone back to you. you stand there for a moment, your thoughts conflicting. you make up your mind, and quickly lay a light kiss on wanda's cheek before walking to your car. you will never know how that single kiss rocked wanda's world, and how it would soon lead to yours being turned upside down.

remember, asks and requests are open! i love to hear from you guys! <3

#dark wanda maximoff #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut #dark wanda smut #dom!wanda #top!wanda #mommy wanda smut #wanda smut #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #scarlet witch smut #scarlet witch #wanda maximommy #wandavision #wanda x reader #wandanat #wanda marvel #wanda maximov

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youneedsomeprompts · 1 year

Text

How to write: ethnicity & skin colour

requested by: anonymous request: How exactly can I describe a characters ethnicity/skin color casually, without it sounding like a specific scene that just exists to describe the skin color? I hope this makes sense lmao… I just want to write a scene where I casually mention someone’s ethnicity or skin color

description of appearance: No matter if skin colour or hairstyle or clothes, a text is more dynamic if you don't dedicate an entire scene/paragraph to it but rather sprinkle the necessary information in here and there. However, there can be instances where it's conducive to the plot to put that entire paragraph (e.g. introducing a new important character with backstory). Otherwise, I'd say try to keep it short and put it where it serves the plot.

ways to incorporate...

... a description of appearance:

when a character makes their first entrance (describe everyone's colouring - POCs' and white characters')

the impression their complexion makes together with their clothes: "the bright yellow of their shirt complemented their dark skin"

the way their colouring interacts with lighting: "the grey weather took away the rosy hue of their fair skin"

when appearances create a contrast: "I immediately noticed them because they were the only other black person"

... ethnicity:

let the characters mention it where it makes sense

regarding the narrator you've chosen for your story, it can also be blended into an inner monologue

include parts of their culture: traditions, terms, family, etc. (this also allows to bring up their ethnicity repeatedly over the story and not only at the beginning)

show their struggles: are they affected by social struggles? then show it!

words to use to describe skin colour:

... basic colour descriptions:

brown

black

beige

white

pink

... more specific colours (try sticking to familiar/common words that can be easily visualised):

amber

bronze

copper

gold

ochre

terracotta

sepia

sienna

porcelain

tan

... prefixes or modifiers (can be easily combined with basic colours):

dark

rich

warm

deep

fair

faint

light

cool

pale

... undertones (pre-dominant colours underneath the skin - often warm or cool, sometimes also neutral and olive):

yellow

orange

coral

golden

silver

rose

pink

red

blue

... avoid food analogies as it's often received as offending, fetishising, and/or objectifying.

That's all I can provide as of now but I'm sure you guys have aspects to contribute. I'm very interested to hear your thoughts, so please feel free to add to this post whatever you like to/can share <3

And for more information, maybe also check out @writingwithcolor for more specialised posts on the topic <3

#ethnicity in writing #writing advice #writing skin color #terminology #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing guide #creative writing #how to write #writing inspiration #writing ideas

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kamaluhkhan · 9 months

Text

all the love we had and lost

pairing: conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: you come back to cousins beach after a few years away. conrad is not particularly happy that you're back - and you aren't particularly thrilled, either. too bad there's a history (chemistry?) neither of you can deny.

warnings: lots of plot + flashbacks. angst with fluff in betweem. slightly suggestive dialogue/situations but nothing more than the actual show, a guy being pushy about hooking up with reader but nothing happens, mention of injuries and blood throughout, hints of alcoholism, brief mention of dieting (reader is competitive swimmer and deals with certain pressures from that), reader gets her period, takes on too much responsibility and argues with her mother (aka eldest daughter syndrome)

tags: @stargirlsirius-recs, @ifilwtmfc, @qwertyb2577, @allnrsnz, @baconeggndcheez, @peanutbelley, @imogen-skye, @geekinthefuschiahair, @tvije,

a/n: thank you thank you thank you for so much love on my first conrad fic!! i'm so excited to share the rest of the series, so stay tuned :))

read part one here

the best friends of our childhoods are the loves of our lives, and they break our hearts in the worse ways. (fredrik backman)

now — summer, age 18

you throw in some extra sprinkles, along with a few more tablespoons of sugar. belly has a huge sweet tooth. it's the night before her birthday, and you're in the kitchen at the fisher's house baking her coconut confetti cupcakes.

born on june 21st — the summer solstice — belly conklin is the definition of a summer child. she's summer, personified: sunshine, sweet tea, sand, and smiles. having missed so many birthday celebrations, you’re determined to make this year special.

you go to the fridge to grab some eggs, and when you close the door, you're startled by the person standing behind it.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, holding a hand to your chest and setting the carton of eggs on the counter. the joy you felt making birthday cupcakes for belly fades away, replaced with a tingling in your chest. you and conrad hadn’t spoken more than three sentences to each other, or even been in the same room alone, since that morning on the beach. as the distance between the two of you grew, so did your frustration at him.

conrad raises his eyebrow at you. he reaches around you into the fridge and pulls out a beer.

"i should be asking you that."

"the oven at my house is broken and your mom said i could come over."

“i’ve heard that one before,” he mumbles as he leaves the kitchen. you almost can’t believe he brought it up, even if just in a passing, somewhat snarky remark. conrad probably thought you didn’t hear.

these past few weeks, conrad hasn't just been cold towards you — which was a relief as much as it was heart wrenching. he seems more closed off in general, more inclined to spend time with others who hadn't seen him grow up. in fact, you imagine he’s on his way to see nicole now. maybe with her, he can pretend everything is fine. but not with the people in this house, who knew him inside and out.

you would never admit it — if conrad wants to ignore you, you could ignore him just fine — but it was eating you up inside, and it took everything in you not to confront him, to comfort him about whatever he was going through. you’d have arguments when you were kids, but it was nothing a ring pop or tub of cherry jello couldn’t solve. this time is different; the wound is deeper, harder to heal.

you wanted the old conrad back: the sweet boy who cared for you and let you care for him in return.

then — summer, age 14

belly was turning 12, and you wanted to surprise her with homemade cupcakes for breakfast. only, the oven at your house was broken, which meant your intention of baking her birthday treats would have fallen through, if not for susannah’s ever-present generosity.

everyone else was out of the house — you even asked laurel and susannah to take belly shopping to not ruin the surprise. you were decorating the cupcakes when conrad walked in from the deck. his wet hair stuck to his forehead and he was wearing a rash guard, so he probably got back from surfing. he looked paler than usual, even after being in the sun for hours, but you didn’t think much of it at first.

“hey,” he greeted, sounding slightly out of breath. “what are you doing here?”

“the oven at my house is broken, so your mom said i can come over to bake these for belly’s birthday tomorrow.” you gestured at the clumsily decorated treats. the cupcakes had bright pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles. you weren’t a professional by any means, but knew that belly would love them.

“but i’m sure she wouldn’t miss one or two, if you wanna try one,” you offered, smiling at conrad.

he smiled back, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “yeah. yeah, let’s do that. i’m just gonna get changed first.”

conrad walked past you, and that’s when you noticed him limping — along with a bloody gash just below his left knee.

you instantly dropped the spatula back into the half-empty frosting bowl.

“connie, what the hell happened?”

“i’m fine,” he answered. “i wiped out, got cut by the fin of my board.” conrad must have noticed your eyes widened with worry because he grabbed your wrist gently, thumb rubbing soothingly on your pulse point. he was bleeding out on the kitchen floor, and there he was, trying to make sure you were okay.

“i’m fine,” he reassured.

the blood dripping down his leg suggested otherwise. years ago conrad would faint at the sight of blood, and though he’d mostly outgrown that, you knew it still made him queasy. you imagined the pain definitely wasn’t making it easier. without another word, you pulled him into the bathroom and made him sit on the edge of the bathtub. you washed your hands then sat cross-legged in front of him.

“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” he smirked as he watched you gather supplies from the cabinet underneath the sink, your brows furrowed in concentration.

“what?” you paused, almost laughing. until you saw his wound again, and you got back to work.

“it’s from the hunger games,” he explained. “when katniss finds peeta in the arena? and he’s all, like, injured.”

“well, he was definitely in worse shape than you,” you assured. “your cut’s not that deep, it just looks bad.”

“it doesn’t feel great, either.”

conrad exhaled sharply when you started applying pressure to his leg with a damp washcloth. you placed your other hand on his right knee.

“it’ll be fine, connie. i’ve got you. keep your eyes on me, okay?”

he looked down at you, wet hair framing his face as he offered a short nod.

you gestured at him to take over, and your fingers brushed together when he grabbed the washcloth, but he never looked down. his eyes still followed you as you searched the bathroom for something to cover his wound.

a comfortable silence followed. the two of you used to spend hours talking, sure, but what you loved about spending time with conrad is that silence didn't bother him. you could each be in your own worlds while in the comfort of each other's company, and that was enough.

once the wound was cleaned and the bleeding slowed down, you placed a gauze pad over his cut before wrapping a cloth bandage around it.

“i’m pretty sure it’s ‘you here to finish me off, sweetheart?’,” you remembered.

conrad shook his head. “i’m pretty sure it’s not. i’ve read the book like, three times.”

you move to sit next to him on the edge of the tub.

“how sure are you, connie? because i’m pretty damn sure.”

conrad shrugged. “i’m pretty damn sure, too.”

you rolled your eyes, but with a smile. “okay, fine. we’ll check. but, when you see how wrong you are, you have to come with me to see jaws 2.” it was playing at the local movie theatre during their weekly throwback thursday — you and belly had seen it advertised on your way home from getting ice cream. you had wanted to ask conrad, but couldn’t find the right time.

because you hadn’t meant it to be a date, but you also hadn’t not meant it to be. something changed about how you felt towards conrad that summer; or, maybe, you just figured out what was different about the love you felt towards him compared to everyone else.

(yes, love. again, something you would never admit.)

you thought maybe — maybe he felt it too. there was something different in the way he teased you, laughed with you, looked at you when he thought you couldn’t notice.

you did notice. it happened so much that eventually you decided that either it was all in your head and he didn’t love you that way, or he was also scared of what would happen if he did. which, to be fair, was the position you were in. you were very scared of what would happen if you crossed that line.

“i’ll agree to that,” conrad said. “if you agree to having a picnic with me on the beach. if i have to face my fear of sharks, then you have to face your fear of angry seagulls stealing your food.”

a picnic on the beach. you wondered if this was conrad’s way of subtly asking you on a date. did he also want to cross that line, become something other than friends? he looked at you so eagerly, you hoped he did.

“fine.” you held out your hand. “but you have to protect me from angry seagulls.”

conrad smiled at you brightly as he grasped your hand.

“always.”

in the end, conrad lost the bet. the screening of jaws 2 was cancelled, so you rented it from the video store instead. you got his favourite movie snacks, and some of yours as well, and made sure the couch had the comfiest pillows and the warmest blanket. you felt butterflies just thinking about the two of you watching together, cuddling on the couch.

when the time came though, your plans fell through. the playdates your siblings had lined up both cancelled. your mother had plans to meet a friend at the bar, and claimed she couldn't reschedule. by then your parents were divorced and your father was elsewhere with his new girlfriend, so it fell to you to babysit your siblings.

conrad came over anyway: he helped you make rice and lentils for dinner, convinced your brother to eat his vegetables, and let your sister paint his nails. the four of you watched night at the museum and ate all the junk food you had gotten, with you and conrad sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but stealing glances and shy smiles at each other. when your mother came home, a bit after midnight and a little tipsy, she got angry that you’d kept the twins up so late and cheated on the diet she had so carefully planned for you — to keep you in shape for swimming, she claimed. you rolled your eyes, and that made her angrier. without you saying anything, conrad took the twins upstairs to get ready for bed as you and your mother argued. by the time conrad walked back downstairs, your mother had gone into the living room for another drink and you were in tears. he asked if you were okay, and you told him to go home.

you never talked about that night again, and everything went back to the way it was: with neither of you crossing that line.

now

the only reason you let belly drag you to nicole’s party is because it’s her birthday.

as soon as you enter the house, nicole and the other debutantes whisk belly away to a table filled with elaborate cakes. you can’t help but feel slightly embarrassed by how elegant they look in comparison to the cupcakes you made her.

"come on," taylor groans. "let's get a drink."

taylor grabs two beers and hands one to you. you gratefully accept. the two of you catch up for a bit, when suddenly jeremiah starts serenading belly in an outrageously funny musical number. you laugh along with them, until you catch a glimpse of conrad with nicole on the couch at the other end of the room. nicole is sitting in conrad's lap, and she leans over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek. your entire body heats up.

conrad was right before: you were jealous. as frustrated as you were with him, you were even angrier at yourself for feeling that way.

"i’m gonna go find the bathroom!” taylor says, practically shouting over the music.

"okay!” you yell back. “i’m gonna go get another drink."

you know all too well that it isn’t a good habit to get into, but you need something stronger if you’re going to survive this party. you examine the drink table, finally picking out some mediocre tequila. you take a shot, then another.

“tequila. my kind of girl.” someone declares, creeping up behind you.

it’s a terrible pick up line, and you already have a feeling that the guy trying to flirt with you is some rich entitled asshole.

but, the guy — liam — can hold a decent conversation, and he’s cute enough.

he’s no conrad, though. you take another shot when that thought crosses your mind, and force yourself to flirt with leo. liam. right, liam.

liam leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze linger on the deep v-neck of your shirt. you’re so close, you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“five minutes,” you boast after he asks how long you can hold your breath underwater. somehow, the conversation veered towards your time as a competitive swimmer. you’re just the right amount of tipsy that your inhibitions start fading away.

“wow,” liam says. “i have to say, i’m glad you didn’t have that training camp this summer.”

you bat your eyelashes at him. “oh? why is that?” you lean closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

“because then i wouldn’t be able to do this.”

liam kisses you then, and you kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body. you feel nothing. it’s fine.

“let's go upstairs.”

liam’s grabbing your wrist before you have a chance to answer. as he tries to tug you up the stairs, your eyes meet conrad’s from across the room.

suddenly, you feel nauseous. you rip away from liam’s grip and place a hand on the wall next to you to steady yourself.

liam turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just hang out downstairs.”

liam grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.”

this time, your voice comes out louder. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“don’t be a bitch, then,” he scoffs, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose. “do you wanna fuck, or not?”

“i don’t,” you answer instantly, struggling to break free from his grip.

“okay, whatever. we don’t have to go all the way, but we can still go upstairs, and have a good time.”

he manages to drag you up two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage, forcing liam to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he groans.

“just stop, liam.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little girl. “i know what girls want, so you don’t have to be shy. we’re going upstairs right now and —”

“liam, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s belly, giving liam one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. belly, who if you cut open, would bleed sugar. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my friend.”

“whatever,” liam answers, rolling his eyes. “if you don’t mind, we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you forward, but you stand your ground.

jeremiah is also glaring at liam from the bottom of the stairs, his golden retriever personality long gone. “back off, man,” he warns.

“just mind your own business,” liam snaps.

“they said leave her alone,” steven asserts, walking over once he sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” he clenches his hand into a fist as if proving a point.

in other situations, you and belly have definitely teased steven for his tendency to act all tough, but right now, you couldn’t be more grateful.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?”

“just let her go,” belly orders.

“i think she can speak for herself. she wants this, but if you’re jealous, you can join, too.”

your stomach churns. liam leans in close to whisper in your ear. “maybe we’ll see if those 5 minutes come in handy when you’re sucking my —”

as soon as liam lets go of your wrist, his hand trailing downward, you shove him away and punch him in the nose before he can finish his sentence. you deliver a final blow to liam’s ego as he’s doubled over:

“what i want is for you to leave us the fuck alone. there are other people in this house who i’d rather hook up with. people who aren’t complete assholes with fancy cars to compensate for their tiny dick.”

the flirtatious smile falls from liam’s face, replaced with the kind of anger only rich entitled assholes have when they don’t get what they want — figures that he only gets the hint when it literally hits him right in the nose. he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you fall down the stairs, but belly manages to catch you before you hit the ground. she holds you as jeremiah and steven step in front. you hear them shouting at liam over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and the room is suddenly all fuzzy.

“i’ve got her.” conrad’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist. “go find cam — the rest of us have been drinking, but he can drive her home.”

somehow, you find yourself in a bathroom, sitting on the counter as conrad stands between your legs. he carefully examines your injury, but you notice how he avoids making eye contact.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three.

“you here to fix me up, sweetheart?” the question slips past your lips before you could stop it.

conrad looks slightly amused, and he finally meets your gaze. “that’s not the line,” he deadpans. you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him all night) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

but, still, he remembers. his comment earlier and his smile right now is all the confirmation you need: somewhere in the back of his mind, he replays memories of you. no matter how cold he acts towards you, he still cares.

he continues wiping the blood off your face. “how’s your hand?” he asks.

you flex your fingers, inspect your hand. “it’s been better,” you answer, though your knuckles are slightly aching. “worth it.”

“i guess all those years away made you a badass.”

all those years away. the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, but you wouldn’t let it burst the comfortable bubble you and conrad had somehow stumbled into.

instead, you offer him a lopsided smile.

“oh, connie,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “i was always a badass.”

“yeah, yeah. but it’s different now. you’re different.” he pauses. you’re worried he’s going to say something else.

but he doesn’t. instead, he asks, jokingly: “did you join a fight club or something?”

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s trying to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it, before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re both heartbroken and not talking to each other.

“you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together.

conrad laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too.

a silence falls over you, one that’s not unfamiliar, but not entirely comfortable either. conrad holds the cloth against your nose to make sure the bleeding stopped.

it seemed to be a strange pattern between you two — being there for each other when you bleed.

then — summer, age 12

it was the end of july when you got your first period.

you had made lunch for your siblings and walked them to their day camp, when you suddenly felt an ache in your abdomen. that ache turned into a sharp pain by the time you got home, and you ran to the bathroom to confirm what you’d suspected.

that afternoon, mr. conklin was taking all the kids to mini golf, but you weren’t feeling up for it. you texted belly about what happened and spent the rest of the day curled up in bed.

you didn’t hear him knock over the sound of the movie you were watching, but suddenly you saw conrad standing by your door, holding a bag from the candy shop.

“jesus, connie, you scared me!” you exclaimed, pausing the movie.

he smiled sheepishly and flopped down on the bed next to you. “belly told me you weren’t feeling well. here.” he handed you the bag.

you opened the bag, grateful that conrad picked out your favourite treats. you take one and bite into it. your stomach growled — you hadn’t eaten earlier because you felt nauseous, but now you could eat that entire bag in one go.

“how was mini golf?” you asked, popping another treat into your mouth.

“it was awesome! i finally managed to get past that giant hippo and get a hole-in-one. i got the highest score.”

you frown, wishing you had been there. if anything, to beat conrad’s score.

“don’t worry, we’ll go back another time,” conrad added. “you can beat me then.” sometimes, you swore conrad could read your mind. he then asked if you were feeling better.

“no. i got my period,” you huffed. “it sucks.”

“oh.” conrad adjusted his glasses, a sign that he felt awkward. “i’ve heard about those. they sound pretty brutal.”

“health class?”

“no. my mom, actually.”

health class wasn’t much help for you either, and neither was your mother. you were lucky enough to have susannah and laurel, who had explained everything to you and belly.

“anyway, what are you watching?”

“the hunger games,” you answer. “i just finished the book.”

“cool.”

conrad didn’t move — he actually leaned back against the pillows even more — so you figured he wanted to stay. you moved the laptop so it sat between the two of you and started playing the movie again.

“you know, it doesn’t seem fair that you miss out on having fun just because of your period,” conrad said as katniss finds peeta injured in the arena.

you frown, about to point out that he has no idea how painful cramps can be.

he lifted his hand up to stop you. “not that i can judge what you’re going through. i’m just saying when it’s this bad, instead of being alone, just text me, and i’ll be there.”

when the time came, he watched movies with you in bed. he brought you junk food and pain killers. he even biked to the store when you’d run out of pads.

he was there for you, just like he promised.

now

those moments from past summers now feel warm and sickly sweet, like popsicles melting in the sun — then again, that might just be the remnants of tequila flowing through your veins. you think about what happened earlier, how belly, jeremiah, and steven stepped in to protect you. how conrad is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve ignored each for so long. it’s like nothing changed. but once you leave this bathroom and the alcohol leaves your system, it wouldn’t be the same. you feared you'd never get that magic back, and that weighed on your chest so much, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“why’d you go for liam, anyway?” conrad asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes the cloth from your nose so you can answer, and the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. liam’s an asshole. and you’re…” conrad places his hands on either side of your thighs, leaning close. “you.”

“i went for liam because….well, honestly, i didn’t care who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with conrad is running out.

conrad’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts.

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s so close that it’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on conrad’s. it's not the most elegant kiss — it's messy, urgent, with your noses bumping together, and teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer. you taste beer on his tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. you tangle your hands into his hair, and you swallow his moan as you gently tug. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him.

when you run out of air, feeling like your lungs could burst, you pull away. conrad’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“connie,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

conrad wipes away your blood with the cuff of his flannel. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. jeremiah, letting you know that it’s time to go.

and, just like that, the moment is gone.

a few days later, belly invites you over for a girl’s night. you paint each other’s nails, eat sour candy, and watch rom coms, just like you used to. she updates you on debutante season, the argument she had with taylor, and her blossoming feelings for jeremiah. you let it slip that you and conrad kissed at nicole’s party, though you admit you aren’t sure what it means — as if you hadn’t spent hours and hours thinking about the kiss, about him. belly gives you a knowing smile, but you change the subject before she can comment any further.

you’re halfway through 10 things i hate about you when belly falls asleep. you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to conrad, when you get a text from him.

he’s already on the dock when you arrive, looking out onto the water.

“hey,” you greet as you stand next to him. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell belly that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “but…would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, belly’s close to nicole and i don’t want her finding out," conrad explains. his words are deliberate, and you suspect he'd spent some time perfecting what to say to you. so far, you didn't like where this was going. conrad delivers another blow:

"it’s not like it meant anything.”

you feel like you could shatter into a million pieces right then and there.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to conrad’s stoic demeanor.

conrad shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with liam happened, so we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing other than friendship?”

he turned away before he answered. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he pauses, and you know you caught him off guard. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit has happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —"

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, conrad.”

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay conrad’s words as you crawl into bed next to belly, holding back tears as to not disturb her sleep.

you decide then that you didn’t love conrad anymore. you couldn’t because it would eat you up inside.

then again, it doesn't seem like hating him would be any easier.

#conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher x you #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #tsitp #tsitp fanfic #the summer i turned pretty fic #the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher angst #saf writes

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claymoresword · 5 months

Text

I Choose Her | Chp: 17

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 3.9k

Warnings: plot heavy, a sprinkle of fluff , smut (?) , dark themes

Note: hi! sorry this one took so long i'm not even going to get into it, what's important is that it's finally here lol I'd say there's maybe 2 more chapters left of this story including the epilogue. i'm not too sure yet, but we are definitely nearing the end which is sort of bitter sweet.. but anyway, as always i hope you enjoy this one!

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character

“Here, this should do.” Hermione states in a hushed tone whilst dragging you behind a pillar to hide.

You stood behind her as she retrieved the cloak of invisibility from her bag, quickly draping it over the both of you.

Hermione pulls you even closer to remain as hidden as possible, so you instinctively wrap your arms around her torso.

You were allowed limited time to devise a plan as Snape summoned all students out of bed, all ordered to assemble in the Great Hall at once.

Harry made the impulsive decision to hide amongst the crowd of students so he may confront the Headmaster. The rest of you are forced to follow his lead, entirely improvising as you go.

Despite yourself, you do hope that Ron has managed to sneak out of the castle in time to fetch the other members of the Order.

The Dark Lord and his followers are expected to march against Hogwarts any minute now, Harry needs all the help he can get.

Hogwarts always felt vaguely warm and comfortable to you, but now it is dense and inhospitable. You hardly recognised it anymore.

It is consistently hard to catch your breath, and you can't seem to ignore the uncomfortable chill running down your spine.

Hermione's presence being your only source of comfort, during a time that you otherwise found utterly debilitating.

“Well, I don't know about you but this is quite nice. I really wouldn't mind staying like this with you, forever.” You attempt to lighten the mood as you further pressed your front against Hermione's back, earning a light chuckle in response.

“Honestly, I wouldn't mind either.” Hermione leans back slightly allowing you to place a quick kiss on her cheek before standing upright once more.

Your girlfriend keeps her eyes on the large group of students marching past, in anomalous unison. The sounds of their rhythmic footsteps echo through the halls. Not a single word is uttered amongst them.

You can feel Hermione tense against your hold, as if she was trying to fight a similar feeling of deep and inescapable unease.

The final group of students enter through the doors, the large wooden panels shut with a large thud.

Then, it is only silence, you can only hear the sound of your own breathing, the loud thumping of your raised heartbeat in your ears.

“Y/n..” Hermione's voice is a welcomed distraction from the unbearable quiet, it nearly makes you smile.

“Yes, darling.” You respond, the other woman turns slightly so she may look at you as she speaks.

“I've been thinking..” Hermione starts. “It is no use that we find the other Hocruxes if we don't have the means to destroy it.”

Hermione's words make you pause. Truth be told, it hadn't even occurred to you until now. You had been so caught up in trying to locate the next object that you had entirely forgotten you no longer had the sword of Gryffindor in your possession.

“There's no chance we can take back the sword.. not now.” You think aloud, searching your mind for a solution. Hermione releases a groan at that, frustration and defeat. “I know.”

Then it occurs to you, a miraculous solution to your issue, or a shot in the dark, you were not yet certain.

“The Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets..” You trail off, now capturing Hermione's full attention. “What happened to it after Harry slayed it?” You ask, hoping your girlfriend will give you the answer you were looking for.

“Nothing, it's still there, left to decay in the Chamber.” Hermione replies, and a beat passes where nothing is said between you, but your girlfriend manages to catch up to your train of thought anyway.

“If we find a way to the chamber we can retrieve the Basilisk fang from the skeleton and destroy the Hocrux.” Your girlfriend voices the contents of your mind for you.

“With some luck.” You add.

Then, Hermione grins, a look of relief washes over her. Still underneath the cloak Hermione manages to turn around, she loops her arms around your neck, quickly guiding you in for a searing kiss, one that leaves your lips tingling even moments after she has pulled away.

“You are brilliant.” Hermione utters, and this time it is your turn to smile.

“That's all you, my love.” You quip. Watching as Hermione makes a face in contentment before turning away from you once again.

Snape's voice can be faintly heard from where the two of you were standing, you tried to listen but Hermione's kiss ignited something within you. A sudden sense of serenity, now you are convinced that everything will turn out as you plan, as if you weren't currently in imminent danger.

As you held Hermione in your arms you allowed yourself to forget the threat of battle, if only for a few moments.

You can't hardly help the way your hand slips underneath her sweater, you feel her goosebumps forming underneath your touch as your palm grazes her bare stomach.

This only works to urge you on as you carefully part her hair away from her neck, so you may plant gentle kisses against her warm flesh. Hermione's eyes flutter shut at the sensation, and you can hear her breath quickening.

Although, you aren't allowed to carry on for long as she finally places her hand atop yours, removing it from underneath her top.

“Stop distracting me, I am trying to listen.” Hermione scolds, half-heartedly, her tone makes you smirk, a fire threatens to ignite, but you relent.

You could still only make out bits and pieces of what the Headmaster was saying, and nothing coherent.

Soon deciding that you needed to get closer to the doors if you hoped to find out what was going on inside. You observed the lack of teachers roaming the halls, it appears you and Hermione were alone.

“Let's move closer.” You suggest, pulling the cloak off both of you so you may move freely.

“Alright.” Hermione agrees, clutching your hand as you advance forward together.

Through the crack in the door, you are able to spot Snape, on the podium, addressing the students, the Carrows standing by either side of him.

“Punished in a matter consistent with the severity of their transgression.”

“Any person to have knowledge.. who fails to come forward, will be treated as equally guilty.”

You listened as the Headmaster continued hurling his veiled threats towards the group of blameless students. It makes your blood run cold and it appears Hermione felt as equally unsettled by Snape's words.

“Now then, If anyone here has any knowledge of Mr Potter's movements this evening. I invite them to step forward.. now.” Snape's words are met with complete silence, and your belly tightens with nauseating suspense.

The sound of sudden footsteps that echo from behind the two of you breaks the tantalizing quiet. It makes you whirl around in a panic, only for you to spot Ron next to his brother, Shacklebolt behind him and then the rest of the Order.

“What's going on?” Ron asks, looking between you and Hermione, and you merely hold your hand up to silence him as Hermione continues peeking through the crack.

The next thing that can be heard is a mass of gasps coming from the other side of the doors, students muttering amongst themselves. Before you can question it, the sound of Harry's voice validates your anxiety.

You freeze, whereas Hermione merely steps forward, bracing her hand against the door, as if prepared to push it open, ready to come to Harry's defense.

“It seems, despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you seem to have a bit of a security problem, Headmaster.” Harry's voice can be heard clearly as Hermione pushes the wooden doors open, you along with the rest of the Order follow her lead, now wands in hand, entering the hall as a group.

All eyes are now on you, more gasps in disbelief as you all stood behind Harry.

You then make the mistake of letting your eyes wander, it doesn't take long before you catch Pansy's gaze. Her stare, hardened and unforgiving enough to make you look away in an instant. You decide to focus your attention ahead.

Harry's harsh voice makes the walls in the hall vibrate.

“How dare you stand where he stood? Tell them how it happened that night, tell them how you look him in the eye, a man who trusted you and killed him.”

Harry continues to taunt the Headmaster, all he is granted with is silence, for a long moment, until Snape retrieves his wand.

He points it at Harry but before The Chosen One is allowed a chance to properly react, he is shoved out of the way, Professor McGonagall shielding him with her person.

It all happens quickly, the Professor flings spell after spell at the Headmaster, and everyone can merely observe with bated breaths as Snape deflected every blow.

The Headmaster lifts his wand to shield himself but this time the curse rebounds. As a result, the Carrows fall, unconscious.

Professor McGonagall steps closer but before she can attack once again, Snape is no longer upright as he quickly transfigures into a black mass, apparating out of the window behind him. The broken glass falls with a large crash.

A stunned silence before an eruption of cheers from the bystanders. Celebrating the Professor's triumph.

Hermione glances at you with a similar look of relief, but the both of you recognize that it is fleeting.

Just as you expected, the moment of joy is over as quickly as it began. The mark on your arm, what was a dull ache turns into a searing pain, so sudden and paralyzing that it knocks you to the ground, still clutching your arm.

Hermione rushes to your side, but before she can attempt to question what was wrong Harry can also be seen collapsing onto the floor in front of you.

You catch a glimpse of Hermione's panicked expression, she turns to her best friend and then to you. Your girlfriend attempts to speak to you but you cannot hear her.

The pain in your arm has now spread, you shut your eyes tightly as you endured it. The hall grows dark once again, stagnant and cold. A spine chilling voice of the Dark Lord echoes through the air, easily distinguishable and unsettling.

Soon there is a mass of screams coming from each corner of the room, students plugging their ears in terror.

Lord Voldermort aims to convey a message; a threat.

Hermione is holding you tightly against her own body, the pain in your arm is finally reduced to a dull ache once again.

“I know that many of you will want to fight, some of you may even think that to fight is wise, but this is folly.”

“Give me Harry Potter, do this and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched. Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded.”

“You have one hour.”

The Dark Lord's attempt to entice has merely immobilized everyone for a prolonged moment.

You finally get back on your feet, Hermione does not let go of you still. “Are you alright?” She manages to find the words and you only nod in response.

As you glanced around the room, you realized that once again, all eyes are on Harry. This time the stares are hostile, some uncertain, others, plain terror.

Pansy's voice is first to break the tense stillness. “What are you waiting for? Someone grab him.” She points to The Chosen One.

Ginny is first to step in front of Harry, followed by Ron, Hermione, yourself and the rest of the Order follow suit.

As Pansy catches your stare again she scoffs, this time your hardened expression mirrors her own.

“Mr Filch, if you would, I would like you to please escort Ms Parkinson and the rest of Slytherin house from the hall.” Professor McGonagall orders the caretaker of the castle.

The man emerges from the crowd, his tired long haired cat in his arms. “Where exactly will I be leading them to, Maam?” He asks.

“The dungeons would do.” The Professor quickly states. This makes Hermione reach down to hold your hand once again, you respond by intertwining your fingers.

There was more sudden applause from the students as they celebrated Mr Filch leading the other Slytherins out of the hall.

As expected, you notice Pansy walking towards you, and you make the hasty decision to turn away so you could hopefully avoid her. However, you don't get the chance to try as she gets close enough to grab your collar harshly, then you react on instinct, getting a tight hold on her wrist.

“Fucking traitor.” She hisses, the sudden nature of the interaction makes you wince.

You open your mouth to speak but Hermione quickly steps in. “Let go of her, or I swear you will be leaving this hall with no hands.” There is enough vitriol in her voice to make anyone cower, but Pansy was not yet done, in fact she barely acknowledges your girlfriend at all.

“If I had known you were with your muggle pet this entire time..” Pansy trails off, she shakes her head slightly, repulsed.

“You're an embarrassment. I can hardly believe I ever considered you a friend.” Pansy retorts.

The same Pansy you have known since first year. You can't help the pang in your chest, her words manage to graze you.

She grants you a scowl before storming off, Blaise follows immediately after her, having listened to the entire interaction. He bumps his own shoulder against yours before slipping past, purposefully setting you off balance.

You held your tongue, reminding yourself to remain calm.

When you turn to Hermione once more the look plastered on her face makes you ache. She recognizes your hurt, and she can't help but feel it too. “Y/n–” She starts but you quickly interject with a change of topic.

“I have half a mind to carve this thing out of me.” You quip, only partly joking. The dark mark now stifled by your sleeve.

Your joke doesn't translate, in fact it only urges Hermione to worry about you more. “You will do no such thing.” She warns with furrowed brows as she reaches up to fix the collar of your shirt, badly creased from Pansy's fury.

Hermione's own wrath yet to dissipate, you feel it in the way her hand trembles.

You smile faintly at her in gratitude, in an endless sea of chaos, she is your helm.

As the rest of the students begin clearing the hall, Harry rushes past as well, urging Ron, y/n and Hermione to follow. “Come on.” He exclaims without looking back.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Terror pollutes the air surrounding Hogwarts, contagious and unrelenting. It infects everyone, guiding and inspiring frantic behaviour.

As all the Professors remain in the outer courtyard, securing the castle, students are left indoors to their own devices. Everyone is pushing, shoving. Coming and going. No one knows what to do, the only thing that's certain is that fear hangs over them a dark cloud enveloping all.

“Harry, wait!” Hermione exclaims, trying to get her friend's attention but dark haired man barrels forward, Ron by his side.

Your finally manage to catch up to him, Hermione tugs on Harry's arm, forcefully urging him to look at her.

“I've had an idea– well really it's Y/n's idea it's completely brilliant.” Hermione gestures towards you as she raises her voice slightly so she may be heard over the commotion.

Harry stares at you, inquisitive yet impatient so you decide speak quickly. “It doesn't matter if we find the Hocrux unless we can destroy it.” You say.

“You destroyed Tom Riddle's diary with the Basilisk fang, right?” You question rhetorically but Harry nods regardless.

“Well, Hermione and I think we know where we might find one.” You add vaguely, a precaution against prying ears.

“Okay, fine– but take this” Harry seems only half present in the conversation now, he is not even looking at you as he retrieves the Marauder's Map from his pocket.

You grab the bit of parchment, admittedly perplexed by his response. “That way you can find me when you get back.” Harry explains and you nod.

The Chosen One turns to continue up the stairs without looking back, Ron blindly trails after him, it seems asking Harry questions now will only slow them down.

“Where are you two going?” Hermione on the other hand cannot contain her curiosity.

“Ravenclaw Common Room. We've got to start somewhere.” He explains, practically shouting above the clamour.

As Ron and Harry dissapear into the crowd

Hermione quickly intertwines your hand with her own, dragging you up the stairs in the opposite direction. “Come on, this way.”

–

The girl's lavatory remained vacant as you both made your way down the long winding slope, a pile of something soft breaks your harsh landing, in the darkness you are not able to make out what it might be.

The chamber was dark, every surface caked with dust, you can feel it in your lungs everytime you took a breath. No doubt the chambers has been left entirely untouched since the event all those years ago.

Every step you took echoed towards the void, the faint noise of critters scampering on the walls was enough to unsettle you.

“Lumos.” Hermione says with her wand in hand, illuminating your path. It was only then you had the sense to do the same with your own.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You finally get to the entrance but only to realize it is locked, intricate stone carvings of serpents mounted proudly on the door; a warning.

You inspect it carefully, but there is no visible keyhole any clues of how to unlock it.

Hermione bravely places her hands upon it, a feeble attempt to pry the heavy door open, but it is no use.

She sighs, exasperated.

“Any ideas?” Hermione looks to you, desperate.

You remained silent as you deliberated, your first instinct was to enter with force, throw a curse large enough to hopefully break apart the stone door atleast enough for the both of you to fit through.

That plan does not come without it's risks, you set it aside for now.

You begin considering other solutions, and naturally your mind involuntarily turns to the events surrounding the chamber of secrets all those years ago, your second year at Hogwarts.

The perpetual anxiety that plagued you, and every other student in the castle. Everyday, the Basilisk claimed a new victim and for several weeks, you were only allowed to wonder who it might choose next.

You distinctly recall the way Draco reacted to it all, how he insisted on learning parseltongue so he could gain control of the beast. Feeding into the widespread fear that Harry was the true heir of Slytherin. That he would target him next if he did not learn how to defend himself.

Countless nights where your best friend would stay up memorizing phrases in parseltongue, certain that he would then gain the ability to control the beast if it ever came after him.

Whether he was driven by jealousy or plain and simple fear is unclear, but Draco's relentless efforts, as a result, forcefully imprinted the unfamiliar dialect into your vocabulary.

Although, time certainly did it's duty, and now you are only able to recall certain words.

You wonder if it will perhaps still be enough to possibly unlock the door to the chamber.

“I have an idea, but it might not work.” You reply, although entirely lacking confidence.

Hermione doesn't share your doubts, she nods assuredly eventhough she has no notion of what you intend to do. “Go on then.”

You speak the words ‘door’, ‘snake’, and ‘open’ in parseltongue. With your limited knowledge, you cannot hope to form a complete sentence, but luckily enough, the chamber unlocks. The heavy door opens, wide and eerily inviting.

Hermione stares at you wide-eyed in bewilderment. “How–” She tries but you only start forward towards the door.

“Long story– if we survive this I'll tell you all about it.” You quip as you made way for Hermione to step inside before you.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

As it seems your streak of luck has yet to wear off as you succeed in extracting the Basilisk fang. It was just as Hermione said, all flesh has rotted away, now what was left of the beast was only it's skeleton, set to fossilise with time.

The both of you stood unmoving, hovering over the Hufflepuff cup, readying yourselves for the next step. “You do it.” You extend your arm so Hermione may grab the fang but she quickly shakes her head in protest.

“No, I can't.” She admits but your gaze doesn't falter, courteous and true, you grab her hand.

“Yes, you can.” You state, lightly forcing the fang into her grasp, and she remains hesitant but accepts it anyway.

“I'll be right here if anything happens.” You reassure with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Hermione moves to crouch next to the cup and you do the same, holding it in place.

Your girlfriend glances at you a last time for reassurance and you can only nod. As Hermione lifts her arm with the Basilisk fang in hand, you hold your breath.

In an instant she brings her arm straight down, the tip of the sharp tooth proved sturdy enough to pierce through the ancient relic. The Hufflepuff Cup begins spinning uncontrollably, as if trying to escape the cause of its injury.

Then, the room awakens, the body of water once still on either sides of the pathway you stood suddenly rises in anger.

The water continues to twist and shape itself into a horrifying sight, the same vision of Voldermort that tormented you when you destroyed the locket.

You grab Hermione's hand, pulling her away from danger, but the being follows you until there was nowhere else to run, you fish out your wand from your pocket but before you can attempt anything, water crashes down onto the both of you.

You are soaked and breathless, but the room was asleep once more. It is over.

Another Horcrux is destroyed, and air sharply fills your lungs. “You did it.” You state with true relief and Hermione doesn't respond, not with words.

In one large stride she is directly infront if you, her lips against yours. The kiss shocks your entire system. Open-mouthed, and aguished. Her hand is firmly against the nape of your neck, Hermione melts within your embrace and you react all the same. Before you can protest or question further, your girlfriend pulls away.

You stare at her, dazed and almost in a trance, consumed in everything and all Hermione. You nearly fail to notice the fact that she was removing her shoes, and then her jacket.

“What are you doing?” You remain staring at her, now with a hint of amusement, but mainly awe.

“We might die today.” Hermione states plainly, the nature of her words do not match her tone.

You observed as she removed her top, now leaving her in only her jeans and bra. She approaches you again, her hands slipping underneath your shirt, warm touch against damp skin makes you shiver in anticipation.

Then you feel her soft lips against the shell of your ear, and soon your jaw. “When I take my last breath I want to remember what it feels like to be with you.. all of you.” Hermione utters, her hands already moving to undo your belt.

#hermione granger imagine #hermione x reader #slytherin au #hermione granger #harry potter #hermione granger x reader #harry x hermione #hermione granger smut

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hottpinkpenguin · 1 year

Note

congrats on the followers!! and super excited for this event. am looking forward to see lots of good stuff! And i am also here to request! Can we maybe get some Nikolai smut with the prompt "Don't cover your face. I want to see you" 👉👈

A/n: has there ever been a more perfect specimen for smut fics? i think not. so, nikolai, thank you bb for being so perfectly FINE. here you go anon - hope you like it!! actually several of you requested nikolai smut, so this one's for all y'all, you're my people and i'm here for it.

18+ only!!!! MINORS DNI

Nikolai Lanstov X Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,342 Warnings: smut, absolutely no plot, unprotected sex, P in V, fingering, sprinkles of praise kink, creampie

(i'm sorry, i know i've already used this gif on another fic but srsly ppl wut else am i supposed to use for a nikolai smut fic?! this gif is unholy and i love it)

The knock at your bedchamber door was fast, urgent. Four sharp taps, rapid fire. You could hear his need in those knocks.

You weren’t far from the door, pacing with a suffocating mix of desire, impatience, and nerves. It had been so long since you’d seen Nikolai, you wondered if the arrangement you two had fallen into the last time you’d lived here would still apply. But those knocks told you everything you needed to know. He remembered, and you did too.

He was on you before the door closed behind him. His mouth crashed against yours, the familiar taste of his mouth awakening memories you’d tried so hard to suppress. His hands tangling in your hair, squeezing your cheek, ripping at the thin fabric of your nightgown. Desperate, hungry. Just the way you liked him.

He pulled back from the kiss just long enough to look at you. His gaze roamed over you like wind, a feral smile lighting up his face.

“Gods I’ve missed you.” His voice had grown deeper, so gravelly it sounded like a growl. That familiar heat sparked to life between your legs.

You grabbed him, twisting your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck the way you knew he liked. You kissed him deeply, your tongue shamelessly diving into his mouth, devouring every inch of him you could taste.

You broke the kiss, twisting his face away from you as you planted a line of kisses along his jawline, working your way back and down to the soft spot where his neck met his shoulder. You sucked, then nibbled there softly. His breath hitched in his throat, his head tipped back, eyes closed, giving himself over to you.

Your hands made quick work of the buttons at the front of his jacket, and he finished the rest, throwing it towards the chair in the corner of your dimly lit bedchamber. Running the tip of your tongue up to his earlobe, he moaned, pulling his undershirt up and out of his trousers. You reluctantly pulled back from him to let the shirt slide up and over his head before it too was discarded along with his jacket.

Your hands remembered the feel of his warm skin, the muscles of his back and chest flexing under your touch. You found his mouth again, his hands cupping your face. You let your hands travel freely, tracing your fingertips over his back, down the backs of his biceps, around the crease at his elbow, up his arm and over to his chest. You added pressure, leaving small white lines on his skin. He let out the smallest gasp at the sensation, his eyes rolling back in his head. You pressed your body forward against his, feeling the bulge of his cock pressing your stomach through his trousers. The heat at the apex of your legs roared, making you squeeze your thighs together, moisture beginning to build there.

“Missed me too, did you?”

The handsome smirk and devil-may-care glitter in his eyes took your breath in. If he only knew…

You let one of your hands snake its way down the front of his torso, your fingernails leaving a trail like a map over his abs. He shivered slightly, his smirk deepening as his eyes drank you in. More, more, more, his gaze said.

You pressed your palm against his hard cock, gripping it through his trousers. “Why don’t you take these off and find out,” you murmured back. Nikolai’s eyes went wild at the sound of your voice. You bit at the edge of your lip, relishing the feel of his member in your hand, the way he shuddered at your touch reflexively. You added pressure to your palm and began stroking the length of his shaft over the rough wool of his riding trousers.

“Saints,” he muttered, stumbling backwards on shaky legs to lean against the wall. It had been a long time for both of you, it would seem. A coil began to grow deep and low in your gut as you watched his face go slack at the feel of your hand on his cock, lost in ecstasy for a moment.

He snapped to quickly, coming out of his reverie with a look of purpose. He brushed your hand away from his cock, catching both wrists in his hands and turning you to swap places. His movements were strong but controlled, firm pressure but no pain. You let him lead you, and he stopped only when you were squarely against the wall.

“You haven’t lost your touch,” he murmured, leaning in for a quick kiss as he danced a finger along your jawline. “But I’ve waited too long for you to skip my favorite part.”

You were practically panting at his words, feeling loose and halfway drunk on the sight, sound, feel, taste of him. And he knew it.

Goosepimples ran up your spine as you felt his hands slip under the straps of your nightgown, guiding them back and over your shoulders. The thin gown fell to the floor, pooling around your ankles like water.

Rough, calloused palms traveled all over you: your arms, throat, breasts, down your sides and over to your backside, which he gave an appreciative squeeze. Then forward, around the swell of your hips, down the front of your thighs, before snaking inward. You stepped one leg outward, beckoning him higher. His right hand turned, palm facing upward, until he found his mark.

You gasped when his hand touched your pussy, warm and wet with anticipation already. You didn’t miss the self-satisfied smile he wore when he felt your readiness. His fingers spread your flesh apart and he began to work, starting with large, languid circles. It was torturously divine - too slow to do anything but tease you. You let your head fall back against the wood paneled wall behind you, your leg bending at the knee with a foot braced on the wall as you let yourself fall open to him. You bucked your hips forward, grinding down against your hand.

Reading your cues, his circles grew smaller and more focused, zeroing in on that sensitive bundle at the very center of you. His fingers found it effortlessly, dancing over it like he were plucking the strings on a lute. You gasped, the coil tightening as your body tensed.

“That’s it, my girl,” he cooed, stepping close to you, his breath warm as it fanned over your exposed neck. “Let me have you.” He bore down on whatever skin he could reach with his mouth - kissing and sucking and gently biting - drawing heavy, sighing moans from your throat. His fingers kept dancing over your clit, his pressure crescendoing and then retreating like ocean waves. You felt your bent leg begin to tremble slightly.

At that signal, Nikolai’s fingers plunged into you commandingly. You gasped, your eyes widening as your muscles squeezed around him momentarily.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.” Two fingers - his middle two - began to pump, firm but gentle. Already slick with your wetness.

One of your hands traveled up to cup your exposed breast, your nipple hard as a marble. Nikolai watched your hand as you rubbed your palm gently over the nipple, your eyelids falling shut as the sensations of your body took over your senses.

“Nikolai, please,” you whimpered, grinding your hips against the rhythm of his hands, desperate for more.

“Beg me again,” he commanded, letting his forehead connect with yours.

“Please,” you moaned out, your free hand grabbing the wrist working on your pussy and driving it into you with the force you were craving. “Gods, please!”

Normally Nikolai would tell you to use your words, to tell me what you want. But after so long apart, the intricate push-pull teasing you two were so comfortable with gave way to raw need. He obliged your request, his hand pumping in and out, his two fingers stroking the spot inside you could never reach while his thumb continued its assault on your clit.

Your body was alight with burgeoning lust, every cell fluttering with a glittering energy. You felt your climax approaching fast and hard. Your moans turned louder into cries, the hand that had been working your breast now gripping the wall for support. Your other hand came up to tangle in your hair as you felt your orgasm crest. You turned, dragging some of your hair across your face just before you fell apart on his hand.

“Don’t cover your face,” he growled, his free hand catching your chin with his thumb and dragging you to face him. “I want to see you.”

You felt the cord snap at his words. You cried out his name, your face uncovered for him to see. Your pussy pulsated around his fingers, your legs shaking in time with your orgasm as you leaned back against the wall. Wetness ran down the inside of your thighs and over his hand, your mind fracturing into a thousand pieces, all of them saturated with him.

“That’s it, my girl. That’s perfect.” You vaguely registered the praises falling out of his lips as his hand pumped you up, through, and down the other side of your ecstasy.

You were still shaking, your senses barely rekindled when you felt the loss of Nikolai’s hand, followed swiftly by the feel of his palms gripping you under your seat. He lifted you from the hips, cradling you against him as your hands snaked around his neck. He carried you back away from the wall, turning and laying you down on your bed.

He hovered over you at the edge of the bed, rushing the trousers down over his ankles. His cock sprang free, full and eager. You reached for it, but Nikolai had other plans.

He ignored your grasping hand, stepping forward and lining himself up with your entrance only long enough to register your acknowledgement before he buried himself in you. His hips smacked against yours as you cried out his name. The feel of him stretching you, your pussy still throbbing from his hand, sent your awareness scattering again.

You felt Nikolai’s hands press down into the mattress next to your head, framing your face as he leaned over you. He hesitated, catching your gaze with his cock completely embedded in you.

“Let me have you,” he told you. His hazel eyes were bottomless to you, his words felt like a drug.

“You already do, Nikolai,” you replied. “Now, take it.”

He leapt at your command, his hips pulling away from you and then brutally slamming back into you. His cock dragged against you, reactivating that dwindling orgasm with a new fire. You let your legs lift up to twine around his rear, adding your own movement to match his. He was grunting, his brows furrowed in a mix of pleasure and concentration as the wet sounds of slapping skin filled the room, punctuated by your cries and his deeper, guttural grunts.

You tried to lift your head to watch him slide in and out of you, but he found your neck, gently but firmly pushing your head back to the bed. His hand stayed there, wrapped around the base of your throat with a possessive, dominating pressure, almost enough to press the air from your lungs but never enough to hurt.

“Fuck, I’m close. Y/n, I’m close, I’m gonna cum.”

You gripped his backside with your hands, pulling him into you deeper and harder with the final few thrusts he gave you. As he threw his head back, a long and loud primal grunt spilling from his mouth, you felt your own body’s desire snap a second time. He gasped as he felt your pussy squeezing around his pulsating cock, his thrusts scattered and not as forceful, but drawing out the pleasure you’d both been denied for so long. You screamed out his name, not caring who heard or what they thought or even if the sounds that you made actually sounded anything like Nikolai at all. He knew, and you knew - that was all that mattered. You fell off the edge of reason, twisting and writhing until you were turned inside out on a cloud of pleasure. Then you floated, hanging there, his warmth and the nearness of his body the only thing you’d swore you’d ever need.

You both settled back into your bodies slowly, the sounds of two sets of panting breaths drawing you down from the sky you’d fallen into.

He finally slid out of you, leaving you feeling woefully empty. You whimpered softly at the loss of him. He collapsed down onto the mattress next to you, the hand he’d left at your throat gently turning your face to his. You washed in the sight of him, the soft sheen of sweat covering his handsome face, his lips swollen and parted, his cheeks flushed. His hazel eyes danced like stars as he smiled at you. You smiled back, one of your hands finding his hair and swirling patterns against his scalp. He moaned, his eyes falling closed for a few minutes as the two of you relaxed in the relative silence. You knew it was only to give your bodies enough time to recover before revisiting the night’s earlier activities, and the thought of it made your stomach twirl.

When Nikolai Lantsov opened his eyes, that mischievous glint you loved so much was blazing. You knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“So you did miss me?”

You gave him a playful slap, laughing as he rolled you into him, squeezing you into a bearhug against his bare chest. He buried his head in your mussed hair, inhaling deeply.

“Actually,” you finally replied when you weren’t breathless from giggling, “I might need you to show me again exactly what I’ve been missing, all this time.”

Nikolai gave you a wicked smile. “Happily, my girl. Happily.”

And so you let him show you - again and again, and again some more…

#nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x you #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov requests #nikolai lantsov smut

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coconutcordiale · 2 years

Text

do not disturb

pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female!reader (no use of y/n)

synopsis-

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

warnings- 18+ only minors DNI, what's a plot never met her, explicit protected piv sex, lil corruption/innocence kink, choking (pls look up the correct way before doing it), hangman's dirty mouth, size kink (if jake doesn't have a big dick I'm staging a revolt), brat tamer hangman if you squint, inexperienced ish reader (tried but I'm a hoe so idk if I managed it), no kink negotiation here (talk to your partners first irl), safewords not explicitly stated but I promise this is consensual af, excessive pet names, exasperated sleepy friends to lovers

length- 4k this was supposed to be like 1k I don't know blame hangman

an- this is just smut w lil fluff sprinkles. i'm a hangman girl (read: I'm obsessed with glen powell) so I felt some type of way about being mean to him in tailspin & that's why this now exists. also idfk what this even is sorry! hope it's not terrible ok ily bye

Technically, it’s the middle of the night.

That’s why you’re burying homicidal urges when you hear knocking on your hotel room door.

Urges that increase tenfold when you open it to see Jake Seresin, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly in an old Navy shirt that looks way too soft for your sleep addled brain to deal with right now.

“Hangman,” you greet drily. “Why the fuck.”

Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you’re not unhappy to see him, per se, but it’s well past acceptable social hours. He’ll have to forgive your less than enthusiastic welcome. Part of you thinks you might still be sleeping.

He at least has the decency to look sheepish for waking you up. Well, about as sheepish as Hangman is capable of looking. “Coyote said he was bringing someone back to our room. Can I crash with you tonight? Everyone else is either hooking up or dead asleep.”

Fucking weddings.

You narrow your eyes. “What if I have someone here?”

He smirks and you kind of want to slap him.

A testament to your willpower, you sigh instead, briefly wondering if it’s really that bad to force him to sleep in the hallway, before opening the door and stepping to the side.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawls, letting you feel the heat of his body as he passes by you, just a touch too close for comfort.

“Cool pjs.” He smirks again, raking his eyes up and down your colorful matching shorts and shirt set.

“Bite me.”

Hangman smiles good-naturedly causing you to idly wonder if anything has ever bothered him in his entire life.

“You’re real cute when you’re tired,” he says instead of being offended and now you’re debating if you actually should slap him, or maybe yourself for the way his compliment brings heat to your cheeks.

“Where’s Phoenix? Thought you were sharing a room with her this weekend.”

Your stomach drops as you consider that Phoenix might be why he came to crash in your room, and you try not to make a face at its betrayal.

“She’s probably in your room with Coyote,” you deadpan to cover up your discomfort, and then relish in the way his mouth drops open in surprise. “Christ, aren’t you supposed to be smart, Hangman? I’m kidding, she met someone at the reception.”

You know you’re being a little more abrasive with him than normal, but you can’t quite help the jabs that come out when you’re feeling uneasy.

And Hangman does nothing, if not make you very, very uneasy. Especially like this, with his blonde hair soft and flopping all over his forehead, that old t-shirt clearly having been shrunk in the wash over the years straining across his chest, riding up a little high above his sweatpants.

The gears are clearly turning in his head, no doubt forming something witty to gain back the slight upper hand you’ve gained in this verbal sparring.

You should be preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say that’s sure to make you lose your footing. But he looks like a goddamn sleepwear model like this, mellow and soft and cuddly, eyes drooping a little from tiredness and the whiskey he was sipping on all night, clothes begging to have someone’s hands fisted in them and…okay. Stopping that train of thought right the fuck now.

Nothing but danger lies down that road with a girl like you and a guy like Hangman.

You’re contemplating if you could get away with taking a cold shower when he finally looks around your room, its distinct lack of two beds apparently killing whatever comeback he had on the tip of his tongue.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again and his uncharacteristic awkwardness is starting to make your skin itch.

Message received, Hangman. We both know I’m not your type.

You’ve seen the girls he usually goes home with. Even if every single one of them wasn’t annoyingly beautiful, you already know where you stand with him. For all intents and purposes, you’re just another one of the guys. Sure, you don’t take a different conquest home every other night like the rest of them, but you banter and compete with them like buddies.

And since you and Hangman are just buddies, you roll your eyes for appearances. “Just get in the bed, Seresin. It’s huge, I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor.”

He shrugs, like he’s giving himself credit for his half-assed offer and goes to pull his sweatpants off. You give him a withering look of disbelief, studiously avoiding looking at the way his boxers stretch over his muscular thighs.

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

He just gives you a dazzling smile in response, and you spin away from him before everything inside you melts.

Turning the thermostat down, you shoot an evident you’re welcome stare in his direction, but his sweatpants remain in their place on the floor. He’s laid out on the bed, all tanned skin and muscle, arms crossed behind his head in a way that’s surely meant to draw your attention straight to his biceps.

Deep breath, you tell yourself. You can do this, just lay down on the other side and don’t be weird.

You get in and pull the covers tight, hoping the shiver that runs through you as the air conditioning kicks on isn’t noticeable.

“And I’m dramatic,” Jake huffs, getting under the blanket and rolling closer to you. You tense, merely out of reflex and a frown creases his eyebrows almost imperceptibly before he gets comfortable on his side, pulls you into his arms. “Relax, sugar. Just trying to keep you warm, since you’re always so cold. Been told I’m like a furnace.”

By who? You want to snap at him, but instead you swallow the words and lean into his chest. He really is warm.

“Would never do anything you don’t want me to,” he mumbles, but there’s a trace of a chuckle in his voice that feels like he’s making fun of you.

Mocking aside, that's definitely true.

You'd never expect him to do any of the things you want him to, either. There's a reason your apprehension stems from you crossing some sort of invisible line with him in your bed and not vice versa.

"I know," you whisper, not trusting yourself to say much else without divulging all the thoughts about him you've buried deep under your comforter at home.

“How come you didn’t ask anyone else to come up and keep you warm?” Jake teases, after a few moments of silence where you were busy focusing on the whirr of the air conditioner and trying to ignore your pounding heart.

You squint, still kind of wondering if he can feel your pulse racing.

“The curly haired guy, from the wedding,” he supplies helpfully to answer your confused expression.

Oh. You’re surprised Jake noticed you talking to him at all. “It’s not like I wanted to sleep with him. We were just chatting.”

“Well, he definitely wanted to.” You’d love to imagine there’s a hint of bitterness in his tone, but you know that’s just wishful thinking.

“That’s not really my thing,” you say quietly, as if he doesn’t already know. He knew enough to know you wouldn’t have anyone up here with you, after all.

It’s so much easier, laying here in the dark, not having to meet his beautiful green eyes, to be honest. All your jabs having melted into smooth, silky edges at the warmth of his body.

There’s a playful lilt to Jake’s voice again. “Sex?”

You smack him lightly on the chest. “One-night stands. I can never get comfortable enough with a stranger to have a good time, things are just better for me when it’s more involved.”

When there’s feelings, you don’t say, because you’re pretty sure he can put two and two together without you having to spell it out.

You still kind of wish you hadn’t said anything, are kicking yourself for admitting that out loud when he cuts through the anxiety of your internal monologue.

“Nothing wrong with knowing what you want, darlin’.”

“It sucks sometimes,” you admit. “It can be a little lonely.”

“Better than being with the wrong person if it’s just going to make you feel bad.”

Part of you wants to roll your eyes and scoff at him, as if Casanova Jake Seresin has any idea what that feels like, but he’s rubbing small, comforting circles in between your shoulder blades and it’s short-circuiting your brain. You find yourself running your fingers up his spine instead, playing with the soft threads of his t-shirt like you’ve wanted to since the moment you saw him at your door tonight.

“Feels nice,” he comments, pulling you in closer.

Spurred on by his praise you keep going, wandering down his back to where his shirt rides up. You look down and see that little strip of blonde hair that disappears into the waistband of his boxers, slung low enough that you can see that stupid Adonis belt on his abs. Your hand moves to the front of him of its own accord, tracing the ridges there, brushing dangerously close to the strip of elastic at the top.

Jake’s arm pops up so he can support his head with his hand, looking down at you imploringly. “What’re you playing at, sugar?”

You take your hand back like it’s been burned, cheeks suddenly hot as you realize you’d gotten carried away. “I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t think about what I was doing. Got distracted.��

He’s definitely smirking, you can practically feel it in the air above you, but you’re sure as hell not going to look up and see that self-important grin for yourself.

He pulls your fingers back to his stomach, and you can’t help but immediately brush them over his happy trail. The dusting of blonde hair surprises you a little, having expected Hangman to be too vain to leave any hair around that might distract from his physique.

You’re silently wondering if he has any hair on his chest when he catches a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You see his green eyes darkened, studying your face for something. You’re not entirely sure what.

Apparently finding what they’re looking for his expression softens, the hand supporting his head going to brush hair away from your face and you break eye contact, feeling small under his undivided attention. His fingers hover for a second, like he wants to do something more, but go to rest on your pillow instead.

“Thought that I had you pegged wrong all along for a second there, using lines to get in my pants. That’s not really my thing,” he mimics, smile twitching at the edges of his lips.

“Oh, I’m—Jake, I’m not—” you stutter, certain you must be bright red now. Your fingers are playing with the hem of his t-shirt, nervous and fidgety energy working to get released.

I’m not like this, you want to say. I’m not like you.

He exhales audibly, looking down at you, at the cherry blooming on your cheeks, at where your dainty fingers pluck at his shirt. His hand clenches once in the pillow above your head, knuckles practically white, before releasing.

“I know, sweets, was only joking. Fuck, I get that you’re a good girl,” he breathes, strained like he’s barely holding it together. “S’why I always want to ruin you.”

What.

Everything inside your mind shuts off.

All you can hear is the humming of the air conditioner, the slow intake of air into his lungs. Something inside you clenches.

You’re fairly certain a sound that closely resembles a whimper breaks from your throat, but you can’t know for sure, since all thoughts have been erased from your brain.

You hear him suck in a sharp breath, breathing in and out evenly for a couple seconds, regaining control, before he speaks again. “Sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t have said that. I won’t, told you I’d never do anything you don’t want.”

You already know that. That’s not the problem. The problem is how many nights you’ve already spent wishing his fingers were on you instead of your own. How many nights you've spent biting back his name, too embarrassed to let your lips form the syllables of someone who you were certain didn’t want you.

Now, though, those walls of certainty seem to be crumbling at every edge.

“What if I want you to?” You ask quietly, barely above a whisper. It almost gets stuck in your throat, but you force your lips to form those words and let them leave your lungs.

Jake’s entire body goes tense.

But then he rolls over, putting you on your back and caging you in with his arms.

“You mean that?” He’s looking at you intensely, so intensely you might be frightened if you weren’t distracted by the weight of him on top of you, by every single scorching point of contact between you.

All you can manage is a nod, eyes starting to glaze over as he fills every inch of your vision.

He chuckles. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Jake ducks his head to kiss you, it’s sweet, sweeter than you ever would’ve expected from him. Sweeter than you thought it would be when you were hiding beneath the sheets in your bed, with your fingers on your clit, choking back his name.

But then he slides his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss as he tangles a hand in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you moan straight into his mouth. His lips move down to ghost over your neck, across your jaw.

And suddenly his words are hot in your ear. “What do you want, sweetheart? Want me to ruin you? Tell you about all the times I’ve thought about taking you apart?”

Your thighs clench together, heat blooming in your stomach and you notice, all at once, how wet you really are, slick pooling between your thighs under the wispy material of your sleep shorts.

You open your mouth to say yes, desperately trying to find your voice, to find your familiar jabs so you can go toe to toe with him like normal, but all that comes out is a squeak.

His hand stops at your neck, just briefly, thumb rubbing on your pulse point. And it turns every last bit of you in you to sweet, sticky, melting caramel. Your breath hitches, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a whimper.

He’s not even doing anything, not really, but your mind immediately latches onto what he could be.

Jake’s eyes go wide for just a second before something wicked glints in the thin ring of green left.

“Thought you were so fucking innocent,” he grunts, running his thumb from your pulse point to your jaw and back again. You bring your hands to his, pulling him closer, silently asking him to press down.

You open your mouth to respond, but you don’t know how to explain. You may not do this kind of thing a lot, but you know what you like. Your imagination has certainly run wild enough times.

But any words that might’ve been readying themselves to leave your lips wither into nothing the moment he squeezes your neck.

“Jake,” you gasp, words breathy underneath the fingers around your throat. “Jake, I…”

“Hmm, what’s that, sweetheart?” His hand relents a little so you can answer, but you immediately wish he’d tighten his hold again.

“Yes, Jake,” you whine. “I want you to ruin me.”

And you don’t know what’s come over you, if you were even an ounce more present in your own body you’d probably be embarrassed.

But Jake’s head drops next to his hand at the crook of your neck, and he makes a strangled noise, the moan reverberating through your skin.

“Jesus,” he mutters against you. “Trying to kill me, sugar?”

You don’t have an answer for that because you’re not trying to do anything, you just want more.

Your fingers are still grasping his hand, the one still around your neck, tightly, like you’re scared he’ll pull it away, leave you to drift without his grip to ground you, to remind you this moment is real. It’s actually happening.

He lifts his head up to latch his mouth onto yours again and it’s heavier, so much more desperate than before. You whine into him as he slides his hands down your body, pushing up your shirt and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it, that you’re more turned on than you’ve ever been in your entire life and you’re both still fully clothed.

He peels your shirt up and over your head, letting out another obscene groan at the sight of your bare chest.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmurs.

You fist your hands in his shirt in answer, tugging upwards, figuring fair is fair. You’re trying hard not to blush, not to show how his approval makes you light and fuzzy. He grins and sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt up and over his head, ruffling his floppy hair in the process.

Lips parting unconsciously, your tongue flicks out to wet them. You knew he was built, but it’s overwhelming, really, to have all that tan skin on display just inches from your face. You get to run your hands up the length of his entire chest now though, leaning up so your fingers can dance through the tuft of blonde hair near the top.

Jake pushes you down on your back, firm, into the pillows. Smiling deviously when you pout and immediately clench your fingers in the sheets beside you, when your thighs press together, seeking some sort of relief to the ache between them. The seam of your shorts presses just right against your center, and you let your head fall back with a soft moan.

Something akin to dangerous flashes in Jake’s eyes, as he hooks his fingers in your shorts, pulling down in one swift motion and tossing them off the bed before you can gain any more pleasure from the thin material. He pushes your legs apart and groans at the sight of you, glistening wet for him. “God, sweetheart, look at you.”

Just when you think you might die if he doesn’t put his hands on you, if he doesn’t touch you, if he just keeps looking at you like that, like he wants to devour you; he swipes a finger up your slit, tip pressing lightly, teasingly against your bundle of nerves. It’s too much, but not enough all at the same time. He slides a finger in, curling it exactly right on the first try and you can’t help but keen, throwing your head back into the pillows.

He sucks in a sharp breath at your reaction, eyelids going heavy as he presses rough figure eights on your clit. “Want to get my mouth on you, get my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy, but I can’t wait, darlin’, been thinking about this for too long.”

Warmth blooms in your chest at the realization he might’ve imagined this even half as much as you have. You’re sure you’re smiling like an idiot.

Reaching down to the pocket of his sweatpants, he pulls a condom out of his wallet, and you want to tease him, presumptuous much? But any semblance of thought goes out the window when he pulls his boxers down, hard cock slapping against his stomach. Your mouth is suddenly, immediately sandpaper dry.

Fuck.

Of course he’s huge. No one with an ego as colossal as his doesn’t have a reason, or several to back it up.

You don’t even hear yourself saying it out loud, don’t even realize the curses forming on your tongue, until he grins, eyebrow raised, chest puffed out in pride. “Think you can handle me, sweetheart?”

It takes you a few moments to answer, to figure out that you should answer, since you’re transfixed on him, on the strong fingers rolling the condom onto his length. If you had any sense of self-preservation at all you might be genuinely worried about his question, about not being able to walk tomorrow.

Hopefully you don’t sound as winded as you feel when you tell him to shut the fuck up.

Before you can bother with any stupid survival instincts, you’re pulling him down on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist, savoring the grunt it draws from him as his tip reaches your folds.

“Love it when you’re mouthy, darlin’, nice little challenge for me,” he promises, before pushing himself inside of you.

He goes slow, tortuously slow, and you screw your eyes shut tight as your walls flutter trying to adjust to him. You don’t notice you’re on the verge of a sob until he brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “Just a little more, sweetheart, you can take it.”

The stretch of him seems to go on forever, just on this side of agonizing, but way too good for you to care about the pain, too good to be real and you can barely focus on anything else. Can barely hear Jake’s molten honey voice repeating a slew of continuous praises in your ear, can barely register the weight of his body covering every inch of you.

Any moment now you’ll wake up in your bed at home, covered in sweat, grinding into your bed, achingly alone. You’re almost certain of it.

But then you feel his lips on yours again, hand holding your cheek, gentle, affectionate as he bottoms out. When he finally moves, the heavy, slick pull of him in and out of you reminds you that you’re here.

You don’t even recognize yourself, mewling, long string of unintelligible noises tumbling from your lips.

Jake practically preens. “Where’d my feisty little brat go? That all it takes to shut you up, sugar?”

You can only hope those were rhetorical questions because he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, picking up the pace, new angle hitting that spot deep inside you again and again, and you can’t form a single thought, let alone words.

Jake’s fingers find your center again and press against your clit in heavy, decisive circles, winding that coil in you tighter and tighter.

“So close,” you whimper, fingers tearing at the bedsheets.

He smirks.

“Did I say you could come, sweetheart?”

Your jaw drops in surprise, eyes rolling back and ears ringing, mind engulfed in the heat burning in your belly.

He’s still grinning smugly as one of those large hands comes back to your neck.

You whine, high-pitched and breathless, eyes fluttering closed, gripping the hand around your neck as he applies pressure, desperate for something to hold onto, and you think you’re trying to form words, some of them may even be making it out of your mouth, something along the lines of please please please, let me come, Jake, I can’t, JakeJakeJakeJake…

“So pretty all fucked out like this, stretched around my cock.” His gaze is fixed on where he’s plunging in and out of you, tone almost reverent. “It’s okay, sweetheart, come for me, wanna feel you, want…”

You don’t hear the rest because you’re focused on where his fingers dig into the sides of your neck, tipping over the edge, string of lights inside of you tangled and blowing a fuse. Everything bursts all at once and you’re clutching Jake’s arms so hard you’re positive you’re leaving marks, but it doesn’t matter, you don’t care because you’re in a free fall, toes curling in bliss.

When you come to, you’re just barely aware of his pace growing erratic, hand on your throat loosening as it goes to brush your sweaty hair back from your forehead. His thrusts are getting shallower, mouth spewing a litany of jumbled praises so tight, so wet, so perfect baby, when suddenly he’s arching over you, hands tight on your hips as he empties into the condom.

You’re not sure you’re still functioning. You’re not sure you’ll ever move again. You’re pretty sure you’ll ever have a coherent thought again.

Distantly you can hear his heavy breathing, feel his weight on top of you but you don’t fully register it.

“Sweetheart?” He asks when you’ve been silent for minutes, or maybe hours, who knows.

You look up at him, blinking slowly, eyelids made of lead, vision unfocused.

Jake grins, and it's almost boyish. It's annoyingly cute. “That good?”

That cuts through the haze enough that you kind of want to slap him, for the arrogance littering those three little words. Or yourself, for helping his ego grow any bigger.

As it stands, you’re too dazed to actually do either. You nod, silently burrowing your face into his neck. He chuckles again, and you decide maybe you don’t hate that teasing sound that much, maybe you’ll spend your days trying to elicit it from him as often as possible. You’re still thinking about it when he peels himself off you to clean you both up.

When he settles back down, he pulls you in tight, curls around you in a way that should be uncomfortable, like he’d crawl inside your skin if he could.

Jake is still glued to you when you wake up in the morning, and your heart clenches too affectionately to be irritated by the fact that you can’t really move. Or breathe.

But you take one look at the smirk on his face, the mischievous glimmer that seems to linger even in his sleep and the butterflies in your stomach turn to stone.

You don’t think he’s that much of an asshole, you’re pretty sure the bravado is all a front. That he wouldn’t do something like this, knowing how you operate, without any intention of moving forward, but the anxiety still thrums incessantly beneath your ribcage.

You’re lost inside your own head, fighting the panic rising in your chest when he yawns, rubbing his eyes before tucking himself back into your side, impossibly closer.

“Guess that fifty bucks I gave Phoenix to find somewhere else to stay was a steal,” he mumbles, fingers dancing across your bare skin.

It’s his turn to pat himself on the back as your mouth drops open in shock.

Jake grins, eyes sparkling as he presses a kiss into your hair. “Good luck getting rid of me now.”

#jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #hangman smut #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 1 year

Text

Tease

Park Seonghwa x fem reader

a/n: yikes i went overboard- this was originally supposed to be a small drabble but the hwa brain rot is so real. i saw this photo and I STARTED THINKIN THOUGHTS I HAD TO GET THEM OUT-

You decided to tease your boyfriend, but you soon find out that what goes around always comes back around.

✫彡wordcount: 2.5k

(>ᴗ•)genre:

smut, p w/o plot, fluff sprinkles

ಠ_ಠwarnings/contents:

soft dom+teasing seonghwa, established relationship, implications of nudes, use of sex toys, edging/orgasm control, cunnilingus, begging(lots tbh), praise, dacryphilia, unprotected penetration(wrap it up yall), lots of pet names, hair pulling, light name calling, profanity, scratching, one(1) chomp, big dick hwa, belly bulge, cream pie, and forehead touches(obv) and i think that's it ... i told you i went overboard ..damn this is wild 😭

SMUT UNDER THE CUT MDNI

"You wanted my attention all day, Sweetie. Why are you crying now? You've got what you wanted..." Seonghwa looks down at you with his eyes glazed over in lust, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning down to where you sit on the floor in front of the couch. Your legs spread, face warm and wet with tears, cute pantie set pushed to the side to give him a good view of your wet hole clenching the toy. "You've got all my attention, sweet girl."

"Please-"

"Nuh-uh." He cuts you off, cupping your face with a soft smile that hardly matches his next words, "you take it. This is what you get." You adjust yourself on the floor to sit on your knees, and he watches you with a hint of amusement.

You brace yourself on his thighs, gripping the fabric of his sweats. "Please, Mars... Touch me. God- please give me more. I need to cum. I'm s- I'm sorry!" You sob, leaning your head onto his lap. You feel his hand gently pat down your undoubtedly messy hair, then you hear him chuckle.

"You're always sorry until I let you cum, huh?"

"No, I'm really sor-"

"Teasing little slut," he groans, tenderly tugging your hair by the roots to pull your head up. You've left a stain of tears just above his knee. "Tell me," he begins, "do you think I enjoyed a hard on during practice? You think I got to cum after you teased me with those pictures?"

"No," you admit, tears slowing. He notices, and reaches to his phone, abruptly turning the device from six to twelve. They return full force, your legs clench themselves together and you cling onto Seonghwa for dear life as moans rip through you. "I'm sorry, Hwa! Please, please, it's too much," you croak out.

"Too much?" He coos with a smirk. "I thought you wanted to cum, Princess?" Your eyes widen at the implication of his words, and he only smiles back down at you. "Get back down there and maybe I'll let you."

You all but fall back into the shag rug of your apartment, hiccuping as your tears free fall. "Please, I'mma be good, Baby. I promise, I pinky swear, with a fucking cherry on top!" You almost forget to spread you legs, when his foot knocks down one of you knees and reminds you. You expose yourself to him as you revel in the feeling of the intense vibrations inside you.

It's never enough to make you cum, though. And Seonghwa knows that. That's why he's looking down with a smirk.

"Can't see you, Sweetie." His voice alone makes you cry out in a moan, writhing as you try to get any friction on your clit with the lace panties you used to tease him. "Take them off." Your tears blur your vision as you blink open your eyes, staring up at the ceiling as you hook your fingers under the fabric. You follow his instruction, pulling them down as quickly as you can and leaving them discarded to an unknown corner of the room.

"There's my good girl," he all but moans as he slinks to the floor in front of you. "Where've you been all day, Angel? I've been stuck-" he runs his hand over your calve, making you twitch- he laughs heartily. "I've been stuck with an attention whore all day."

Unbeknownst to you, his smirk only grows as he comes closer and sees the fat tears that still run down the sides of your face. "I'm so-" you cry out as his hands find purchase on your hips, holding them in place. "I'm so sorry, Hwa! I'll never tease you again, I swear! I'm gonna be good! I'm your good girl, I promise!"

He hums, pushing you back so he can lay flat on his tummy. "I know you are, I know. We all have our days. Isn't that right, Princess? You were just extra needy today, huh?" His thumb ghosts over your swollen clit, and you begin mumbling incoherent pleas and apologies: gripping onto the carpet like it owes you money.

"Isn't that right?" he asks again, reaching one of his hands up to grip your hand and ground you.

"Yes," you moan, "just need you so bad."

"You've got me," he attaches his lips to your core with no warning, and both of your hands wrap up in his blond locks.

"God, fuck!" His tongue assaults your begging cunt, swiping up and down and side to side and messaging you in tight circles. "Oh my God, my God, Mars Baby, so good! You're so good! Please, don't stop," you begin to hyperventilate, and it doesn't slip his attention as he hears it in your tight voice.

He moves one of his hands away from its death grip on your hip and trails it to rest softly between your ribs, tracing the same patterns he makes with his tongue with his index finger. Similar to him, one of your hands lets up on the clutch you have on his head and traps his wrist in it, feeling the small flexes as he traces on your body.

When he begins backing his head away as you start to reach your peak, you try fruitlessly to push him back. The vibration increases ten fold. He put it all the way to twenty. Your hips buck in his hold, head thrown to the side and back arched off the floor.

"Angel, hey..." he speaks gently, leaning over you and smiling as he wipes your hot face. "You ready to cum for me?"

"Yeah," you manage to mumble, kissing his wrist before he pulls it away and wraps both his hands around your thighs. He watches as you wait patiently for a moment, bracing yourself for his tongue. "Hwa?" You prop yourself up after a long moment. "Baby, please?"

He hums, looking up as if he's deep in thought. "I don't know... Are you sure?"

"Fuck!" You pound your hands on the floor, surely pissing off the downstairs neighbor (who is the extremely unfortunate Choi San).

He laughs, thumbs digging into your hips as he gives you a kitten lick that makes tremors rack your body. "You sure?"

"Yes! Yes, please! I want to fucking cum for you, Mars! I want to fucking cum, please help me, I need it so badly," you can barely keep eye contact with him as he rolls his tongue out. "Please, stop teasing me," you whisper though your sobs, giving him your best pleading eyes.

"How can I resist that?"

He sucks roughly on your weeping cunt, rolling his tongue over your nerves as he does so. You come undone in no time at all, so wound up from his teasing that the pleasure spills over inside you and you're seeing stars in your vision. You freeze up as you're dunked into an overwhelming climax. He doesn't let up until you seem to come back into your own body, slumping to the floor and searching him out with a wandering hand.

He sits up quickly and pulls you up into his lap even quicker, wrapping his arms around you tightly- somehow finding time to turn the vibrator off in between. You lean into his warmth, moaning into his shoulder, "fuck." You're so out of it that you don't notice you're sitting over his hard cock. "Fucking love you."

"I love you," he places a chaste kiss to your temple. "My precious Angel. You did so well." His gentle fingers find your overworked cunt, and you jump at the feeling. He holds back a chuckle at the moan you let out when he finally takes the toy out with a lewd pop. He tosses it half harzardly near the wet spot left on the carpet by the mixture of his saliva and your wetness- making a mental note to break out the carpet cleaner.

"Sweet Angel," he rasps as he leaves an open mouthed kiss on your sweaty neck. "Love of my life." He tugs you away from your near-sleep with a deep kiss to your lips. It's wakes you up, his tongue quickly finding its place in your mouth. You wrap yours up in it, entangling you together as he pumps his cock in the small gap between the two of you.

"You need more time, Princess?" You shake your head, steadying yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you take him in the other.

He can barely hold himself back as he hears you begging so quietly, he nearly misses it. "Want you to fill me up."

"Fuck," he groans, "keep talking like and I'll loose my mind." He holds back a moan with his finger between his teeth as you sink down on him. You settle ontop of him, flattening your chest against his and resting your forehead against his. "Want you to fuck me full, Mars." You say proudly, "want you to cum inside me. Want it so bad."

"Too good to me, Sweetie." He rests his arms over your shoulders and glances down to where you're connected.

"Can I move now?" You ask with a quick smile and a kiss to the side of his lips. He nods, pushing his head impossibly closer to yours as his eyes screw up in pleasure.

"God," he gasps, savoring the way your walls slowly envelop him. His throat bobs as you kiss behind his ear, holding himself back to let you have your little moment of dominance. "My good girl, my Angel. Take me so good." His words appeal to the sub he knows you are, your hips stuttering.

The slapping of your skin together echoes in the room, fueling both of your insatiable hunger for one another. "So big," you whine as you work your hips. You finally lean away from him to get better leverage, rolling your hips. "Gah-" You moan as he presses on of his hands to your back, the other just above your cunt. "No, I can't take it! Don't fucking do it, Hwa."

He swipes his tongue over his top lip, looking up at you with a shockingly wholesome smile. "Don't you wanna feel me, Princess? I wanna feel..." You can't deny the way it drives you crazy when he presses down on the outline of his cock inside you. Your just afraid you might loose your mind after how he made you cum earlier. "You think you can handle it?" His hand leaves the imprint and wonders to you breast, pinching your nipple and making your hips halt as you lean into his touch. "Ah~" he moans, "my Love is so sensitive."

He takes back the dominance in a second flat (as if he ever let it slip away). He wraps his arms around your waist and begins pounding into you, relishing in the way he can see his cocks outline just above your pussy before it's hidden by your belly fat. "That's it, Sweetheart. Just like that..." Your walls flutter around him, earning a low moan.

Wordlessly, you remove one of your hands form their tight grasp on the straps of his tank top and toward your stomach.

"Can you take that? You sure, Precious?"

"Yeah," you brokenly whimper that you, "wanna feel it. Wanna feel you." You both whine as you put pressure down, and his hips falter ever so slightly. Tears are building up in your eyes for the umpteenth time tonight, and he leans off the back of the couch to kiss your cheeks as they fall, treasuring the saltiness.

You let your legs fall from the upright position, and he wraps them around him, pulling you all the closer as he fucks into you, and you feel it even more as he keeps a hand on your lower stomach. "Mars-"

"Hold it." He knows by now that you're about to cum, and he's still technically punishing you. "Don't cum yet, don't do it."

You prop your head over his shoulder, wrapping your hands up in the back of his hair. The harder it gets, the harder you clench, and it only builds you up faster. "Baby, please..." You cry, tugging his hair.

"Hold it, Sweetie. You can do it. If you cum, I'm not letting you catch your breath."

"Feels too good!" Your hands rake down his back, leaving angry red lines in your wake. "I can't-"

"You can," he hisses as you mark up his back, "you can take it, Princess. My Princess can take it. I know you can."

His words give you the will to hold back the pleasure, biting gently into his shoulder to hold back your loud noises. "Good girl. You're there, right? I know you wanna cum so bad, huh?"

"Please, can I?" You sniffle, pushing back off his shoulders to face him, brain foggy and excited at the words that leave his lips. You trail your arms down his arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "God," you start moving your hips with his the moment you see him. His own tears are welling up, face flushed, lips swollen from physically biting back his moans. "My pretty boy, you-Fuck!" He slams up into you, moaning openly as you praise him. "Mars Baby, you fuck me so good! Take such good care of me," you cradle his hot face in your shaking hands, struggling to hold your orgasm back and still function.

"I'm going to fucking fill you up, Angel." He's already more than halfway to that promise, watching as you stare down at him, keeping your hands on his face so lovingly as he pounds you mercilessly. "Want you to cum with me. Want you to cream on my cock."

You nod, managing to hold back most of your yells as he ups the force: holding you from bouncing with one hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder. "Please, Hwa... fuck me full. Wanna be full of you."

His hand slips down from your hip and to your abused clit, and you can't hold back as you cum- forcing yourself to keep your eyes on him as they threaten to roll back. He pulls your head to his and moans loudly into your lips, continuing to thrust as his warm seed fills you up.

He pulls back as darkness starts to cloud your vision, sweet praises followed by the shallow, heavy breaths of the both of you. You shiver in his hold, tears soaking the fabric of the couch that you now have your face smushed against.

"God," he whines, hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly. "My little fucking tease."

#park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa smut #ateez fic #ateez #smut fic #ateez smut #fanfic

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bugs1nmybrain · 8 months

Text

Mommy's Boy: Shigaraki x Fem!Reader~Mommy Kink~☆•°♡☆°●♡

As always, Minors do NOT interact!

I remember saying how I thought writing Shigaraki fucking you in front of Dabi was out of pocket, but I've pretty much thrown all humility out the window at this point. Upsidaisy.

Updated: Nov 26th, 2023

Traits about the reader: Medium to big boobs, curvy, thick thighs, implied to be either shigaraki's age (20 in this) or older, implied to be on birth control, bad at playing video games

Notes: NSFW/smut, mommy kink, sub/switch Shigaraki, fem reader, shy and moody Shigaraki???????, Shigaraki loves boobs, awkward reader and Shigaraki interactions, spanking (reader receiving), tit sucking, vulgar language, mutual masturbation, slight degrading, a sprinkle of praise, hair pulling (Tomura receiving), no condom, reader and Shigaraki play GTA 5 in the beginning, kinda cringe tbh, season 4 era Shigaraki

I know each of my fics always end right after sex I'm so sorry. I'm going to have to get better at some plot after sex because I feel like it's so cliché.

"You suck!"

Unfortunately for you and Shigaraki, there was only one controller for the PlayStation. He had wanted a gaming date but there wasn't much you two could do together, so you had compromised by taking turns on GTA (story mode by your request).

Tomura watched as you continued to knock into every car in your line of view. You'd back out of a car you had hit only to knock into another. When you finally made it to a mission that required shooting, you were doing halfway ok, but only because of the auto-aim mechanics to be completely honest. However, the cops just showed up, and now it was you (Trevor), Franklin, and Lamar against a shit load of police. Shigaraki hoped and prayed you'd start catching on, but you just kept on dying.

"GTA 5 is easy! How are you fucking up this bad?" Shigaraki ponders in a near-genuine tone.

"It's been a while! I haven't played for maybe over 6 months."

"It's not even hard whatsoever, I don't get this. Give me a turn."

"You played like 4 minutes ago."

"Yes, but you're bad at this and it's making my head hurt. Give me that stupid controller," Tomura, without your input, snatches the controller out of your hand and plows through the mission for you with ease. You slouch on his shoulder and mope, your feelings hurt by your own pathetic gaming abilities.

"Maybe we should do something that we could both do. Why do I want to just sit here and watch you play GTA all night?" You whine. Shiggy responds with an annoyed groan.

"Take it then! It's not my fault you're shit at this. Maybe try a strangers and freaks mission," Shigaraki drops the controller on your lap. You breathe in and set your waypoint to Vinewood Boulevard. Tomura observes you drive so cautiously that it's almost worse to watch you drive so slow than to smash into cars.

Tomura sighs in agitation and slumps his chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your soft tummy and burying his face in the crook of your neck. He hugs you tight as he watches you fuck up your game and turns his attention away from your awful playthrough to something that he'd consider you to take more pride in.

Tomura glances at the v-neck of your black shirt that looked like his, only short-sleeved. He allows himself to look at your tits while you're distracted. He's had some pretty good self-restraint today, he'd say, as the push-up you were wearing was driving him fucking crazy. They looked so hot and the complexion of your skin gave them a lovely glow. He felt like a pathetic little bitchboy, wanting nothing more than to touch them and bury his face in your tits. It was a good thing you were so distracted by GTA because he was scoping the terrain out to plot his next move.

He felt embarrassed. The two of you have had sex many times, but he still felt annoying to want to appreciate your tits. Would he seem like a little bitch with mommy issues or something? Oh well, you were his girlfriend, right? If you didn't like it then you'd need to find a better toy to play with, though the thought fueled his blood because Shigaraki hadn't ever found anyone that took interest in him like you did.

There was no helping it. He was already growing a boner and you were already feeling it press against your ass as you sat in his lap.

"Tomura?"

He felt a shock surge through him, knowing full well why you were calling his name. So he didn't answer.

"Tomura, are you okay?" You giggle teasingly.

Don't do this to him, he thought. This was supposed to be a simple gaming night. But who was he kidding? 9 times out of 10 your dates ended in kind of sex.

"What gives you the impression that I'm not?" He says in an embarrassed tone. Was he feeling flustered? Cutie.

"Because something's poking me."

"Haha."

You laugh, a little surprised that he's not trying to come back with some cocky monologue like he always does. You turn around to face him to see the cutest scowl on his face. He's clearly frustrated and the boner in his pants only makes it cuter. You take it upon yourself to straddle his lap, resting on his thin frame with your thick thighs. The outline of your crotch presses against his bulge and he grunts in response.

"What's wrong, Tomura?" You coo at him and begin stroking his hair tenderly. You're going to kill him, he swears. His gaze stays stuck on the TV screen as your player stands outside of the Los Santos hospital, but you turn his face to look at you instead. "Why are you being so moody?"

"Your tits have been distracting me all day," he pouts with a flustered face, his eyes now making their way toward your cleavage.

The immediate cackle you respond with almost softens Shiggy's cock all the way, feeling insulted.

"I'm serious," he says with a grumpy voice.

"Really? Is that all, baby?" You smirk with a nurturing voice.

"Pretty much."

Taking Tomura's neck, you kiss his nape gently. He cups your hips with his hands, leaving some fingers up so as to not harm the only person who has both shown him love as well as not piss him off to no end (well, for the most part). You begin grinding on his cock which creates heavy, frustrated sighs from him.

You continue to play with Tomura's hair, messaging his scalp in between your fingers. He tilts his head backwards with a drawn-out whine as if he hasn't been touched in his whole life. That notion wasn't entirely false, before you Tomura hadn't received physical affection like this from anyone and assumed he never would because of his quirk. You were such a lucky catch for him. Maybe it was why he was hesitant to say his needs, he was scared he'd weird you out and that you'd ditch him.

Damn, when did he start caring about how somebody else would feel about his actions?

"What's wrong?" You ask caringly.

"I told you what's wrong."

"Oh, right. What can I do to make it better?"

"Mm.." Shigaraki stares at your chest and back up to you, hoping that you would pick up on his desires without him having to say it. He felt so cringy right now, like a little subby boy begging for access to your tits.

He gives up on trying to be nice when you continue to play dumb. You were doing it on purpose, for sure. A part of you loved seeing Tomura shy and polite like this, as he was usually so abrasive. He tugs on the V of your shirt and whispers in your ear, "are you too numb to get the idea?"

"And what's that?" You banter.

"Bitch. What am I supposed to tell you? That I want to suck on your tits?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Shut up!!"

"It's okay," You laugh. "You don't have to be embarrassed. I know you've got mommy issues."

"What of it? Is that a problem for you?"

"No," you giggle. "Do you need me to spoil you, baby?"

"Ew."

"I'm trying."

Tomura cackles, his broody demeanor. He squeezes your love handles and buries his face in your neck again.

"It's not my fault that you've got the body of a MILF. How am I supposed to react?"

"Wow, what a compliment."

"It is a compliment," Shigaraki snickers as he begins kissing your neck and down your chest. His hands travel from your love handles up to your waist, gripping like his life depended on it. "So, are you going to let me indulge or what?"

You giggle are stroke his long hair as he hums in question, embarrassed by his request, but somehow honored.

"Knock yourself out."

"Mmm, thank you mommy.."

"Oh my god you didn't just say that."

"Just roll with it."

Shigaraki takes a finger and tugs at your V-neck, but is disappointed at your bra. He reaches underneath to unclasp the back and yanks it out from your shirt. His attention focuses back on your tits. Tomura pulls your collar down to reveal one. He wastes no time and begins sucking tenderly. You can feel his cock growing more inside his pants, so you start grinding on the fabric, causing him to grunt while your tit is in his mouth.

Tomura pulls the other breast out from your shirt, taking a moment to gawk at them before going for the other. He teases your other nipple with his fingers. You hadn't realized how sensitive your tits really were as his tongue was flickering against your nipple causing a dripping arousal to seep through your underwear. You whine at the pleasure.

"Is this making you feel good baby?" You ask sultrily to Tomura. He responds with an eager "Mhm" and continues sucking. After what seemed like forever he lifts his head up and pulls your face down to kiss him, his saliva-coated mouth being a lovely adhesive between your lips.

"Your tits are so cute, mommy.."

"When did I consent to this mommy treatment?" You giggle.

"You're literally the one who told me I have mommy issues! Don't make me feel like shit for this."

"I'm not!" you laugh. "I'm just teasing."

You kiss him and continue to tug at his hair, "Does my baby boy need mommy to take good care of him?"

"Yes please.."

"Please, who?"

"Please mommy.."

"Mm.." You lift off of his lap and take your leggings and shirt off, leaving your full figure out for him. He puts up a finger to signal "wait" and reaches over to his bag on the floor and pulls out his special gloves. Fuck what would he do without them? He needs his hand condoms if he's gonna thoroughly make love with you.

"You're so sexy," he says, trailing his fingers to your wet cunt as he begins stroking your clit. You whimper in excitement and begin to pull down his pants. His cute cock slips out, standing proud with pre-cum already leaking out from the tip. As he continues toying with your pussy, you stroke his sensitive cock which creates lovely scratchy moans from his throat.

"God..that's it...," Shigaraki his horny, pulsing cock out on your clit, rubbing circles on it rapidly. You moan out lightly, grinding your clit against his fingers to create more friction. You rub his dick in fast as he submissively cries out in pleasure. Your clit twitches in familiar waves of pleasure once he begins sucking on your tit again.

"Is mommy gonna cum?" Tomura teases, releasing his mouth from your breast to only go to the other.

"Mhm!"

The look on his face when you began falling onto him as you came was unlike him. Tomura snickers in pride, pulling you in for a kiss while you kept stroking his cock.

"I think you deserve some privileges," you coo at him, and you sit on his lap yet again.

"I do? Have I been a good boy?"

"Mhm. Very good boy."

You circle your groin around Tomura's leaking cock as he whines out in pleading.

"Please, mommy..."

"Please mommy what?"

"Fuck me. Fuck me mommy, pleaaaase...."

With a pleasant hum in your throat, you reach down to rub Tomura's cock, then inserting it inside of your dripping cunt. Tomura groans loudly at your gooey, wet walls and attempts to push his cock deeper into you, begging for you to fuck him. To his satisfaction, to begin to bounce on his cock in rhythm, and Tomura swears you're going to drive him insane.

"Mm..does my baby boy like this? Does he feel good?"

"Fuck, yes...," Shigaraki moans. He watches intently as your tits bounce while you fuck him. He smacks your ass in frustration, shocking you.

"I guess I'm a bad boy, then. Are you gonna punish me?" He chuckles maniacally.

"Tomura, that wasn't very nice of you," you squeal, pulling at his hair in response.

Without speaking you begin bouncing on him in a quicker pace than before. Shigaraki holds around your waist tight as he thrusts, trying to savor every inch of your pussy. You were so fucking tight, but so wet too. Your cunt always made him leak, but tonight it was driving him mad.

"..fuck me...fuck me harder, mommy!"

"MmmMM! Fuck! God, mommy, you're gonna milk me.."

You oblige, hopping on him while you clench your walls, purposely trying to milk him.

"That's it, baby. Cum for me. Cum inside of mommy's pussy."

You definitely didn't have to tell him twice. Tomura sufficates himself into your neck as he holds you tight, fucking you until he finally cums deep. His orgasm is intense and long, as he continues to pump you full of cum for many seconds.

Panting and sweating, Shigaraki kisses you once more before you lift your pussy off of his cock, cum oozing out onto his lap. He snuggles in your arms and you stroke his hair. He whines from his cock that's still throbbing after his orgasm.

"Did that feel good, baby?" You ask with a nurturing tone, kissing his scrunkly forehead.

"Uh-huh...I don't know if I've ever came that hard."

"Mommy told you she'd take good care of you."

"Okay stop it. That shit is over and done with," he laughs and flicks your forehead. You rest your head down on his chest while he holds you tight, breathing heavily as he pets your skin.

"I love you," Tomura says and kisses your head as he yawns, sleepy from his orgasm.

"I love you too, Tomura."

"Next time Daddy's gonna have to do something special for you."

#shigaraki tomura #Shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 months

Note

Hey, I wanted to ask if you could write Kieran x gender neutral reader. Maybe they were friends when younger, and they met again after the indigo disk plot. But now the reader went from shy with long hair to extroverted with a more goth punk style and short hair. They go to Blueberry Academy with friends, and Kieran is kinda jealous of them, like MC, for it being so easy for them to make friends. So they have a sit down and talk it out with maybe a bit of romance sprinkled in.

I hope this isn't too long!! I really love your writing.

Aw thank you! This is fine and I decided to give Reader a Toxtricity as their partner Pokémon

..........

"Uwaaahh...uhuuuhuuh.."

"H-Hey, um...are you okay?"

Sniffling, the young boy looked up from his knees to see you standing over him, concerned. He tried wiping away his tears, but they just kept coming as he recalled some rather mean words spoken to him.

"I'm..f-fine.." He lied, clutching the broken pieces of his ogre mask.

"Are you sure? Because you're sitting all alone here, away from the festival with a broken mask.." You quietly pointed out, frowning.

"...the..jerks over there did it." He finally admitted, his gaze going to the fenced area where some kids were hanging around. "I-I thought they were my friends...and then they called me stupid for likin' the Ogre from those stories..."

"What? They sound like real bullies."

"A-All I said was that....I didn't think it was a bad guy..and then they...they told me they didn't wanna be my friend anymore...a-and now...I-I don't have ANY friends!! WAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"

Although you were startled by his bawling, you couldn't help but feel bad for him. Leaving him alone certainly wasn't an option, so you sat down beside him, noticing the small Sentret that was trying to comfort him.

"There, there.." You awkwardly patted his back, feeling your face growing warm. Hopefully this wasn't too weird and you were actually helping this poor guy. "I don't have any friends, either. But I can be yours...i-if you'd like."

With a small hiccup, Kieran looked at you, his golden eyes large and full of tears. "Y-You wanna be my friend?" He sniffled. "Even though I like the "bad guy" of those stories?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong with that." You nodded softly, offering him a tiny smile. "I can relate to the Ogre, too. How lonely it must feel up there in the mountains..and um...how it just wants to be accepted."

He smiled back a little, although he was still depressed over the current state of his mask as he kept staring at it.

"Could I...buy you a new one of those? And a candy apple if you're hungry?"

Blinking, he gazed back up at you, stunned by your generosity. "Y-You don't have to do that.."

"But I want to. I just got my allowance so..I don't mind it." You shrugged, before you heard a familiar cry and looked to see your Toxel hobbling away from the festival grounds...

With candy razz berries on a stick.

"Oh no! Tox.." You bemoaned, huffing as the little baby Pokémon innocently waddled into your arms. "You can't wander off like that..a-and you certainly can't be stealing! You know we gotta pay for this, right?"

"Taahaa.." They cooed, already munching on the sweet treat.

"....fine..I'll let this slide because you're a cutie."

"Is that..a Toxel?"

"...o-oh!" Embarrassed, you turned back to Kieran and showed him Toxel. "Yes..sorry. This is my partner. We've been training a lot lately..but...as you can see, they've got ways to go. Haha.."

"You've done Pokémon battles? Wowzers.." He gazed at it in awe.

"Yeah..have you?" You asked.

".....no. I-I don't know anything about them. They're cool to watch but..I don't think I'll ever be strong enough to fight one myself.." He sighed, petting Sentret on the head. "I'm scared of Sentret getting hurt..e-especially by those..rude people."

At this revelation, your shoulders slumped. "Look....I get it, but if they see that you're afraid to battle, then...they'll just keep pushing you around."

"I know. I-I don't wanna be afraid anymore. But...my grandparents think I'm too young to be a trainer, a-and my sister thinks I'm too weak to even try...so I don't see a point..."

"..my own family doubted me, too." You remarked. "It was hard for Toxel and I, but..we had to go against their wishes. We had to become strong enough to stand up to our bullies..and we did. Now they fear the day this little sweetie grows up into a strong Toxtricity."

With a small coo, Toxel giggled and nuzzled your cheek with their forehead so they didn't accidentally shock you. "Taaaaataaa.."

"Yep." You giggled, before glancing back at Kieran, who looked extremely inspired by your words. "Maybe your Sentret will become a strong Furret someday, too. But...you'll have to train it first."

"And..wh-where do I start, if I may ask?" His voice became even quieter than yours.

"How about after the festival? You and I can have a practice battle."

He blinked. "..l-like tonight? With you?"

"Sure...if you're not busy, of course-"

"Oh no, I-I can definitely do that tonight!"

"Great! We'll just..go over the basics, that's all." You hopped to your feet as Toxel climbed onto your shoulder, and you offered your hand to the boy. "Also I'm sorry for not introducing myself. I'm [y/n]."

"Kieran." He had a shaky smile on his own face as he took your hand, letting you pull him up. "Th-Thanks for cheering me up...I think I'm ready to go back into the hall."

"Alright." With a small chuckle, you tied up your long hair before donning your mask, taking his broken one.

"C'mon, Kieran. First stop is the sweets shop...which candy apple do you like?"

"....and in Galar, Toxtricity had the power to Gigantamax. And they could turn into this awesome creature with a HUGE radio tower on their back. Oh, and they attack with a guitar made out of electricity!"

"Oh my Arceus!"

"That is sick!"

"We NEED to take a trip to Galar next year."

"Bro, maybe Piers can give you some more fashion tips. Because the punk is rocking."

"Thanks, haha..maybe I will."

As Kieran walked through the doors to the League Club, he heard the laughter and chatter of a group of people who were gathered at the table. Seeing new faces always caught him off-guard, considering how he somewhat left the organization in shambles..

He wasn't expecting so many to join, let alone scrap together enough BP to change the room's layout and usher in new additions--like that itemizer machine..

But it seems the rest of the Elite Four, plus Florian/Juliana, managed to rebuild the foundation and keep it alive. And even he thought this was for the best, as his burdens as both champion and leader were finally lifted from his shoulders.

While he hated that Paldean for "dethroning" him at first...he was actually relieved.

Now he was spending his time trying to make amends with everybody, feeling ashamed for the way he acted towards them--especially to the club members he took his anger out on. He kicked out one guy all because he couldn't meet his impossible standards.

Kieran did make sure he was back in the club..but even so, it took a while for that kid to forgive him.

He knew it wasn't going to be easy. Some people were still going to be bitter over what he did.

Fortunately, he can now enter the club room without feeling like everyone was staring at him, nor could he sense the heavy tension from the Elite Four as he walked past them. They just greeted him like an old friend before going back to their discussions.

When he was about to introduce himself to your group, however, he froze up the moment your eyes met his own...

At first, he was bewildered by the gothic-punk attire you've managed to incorporate into your uniform, complete with spiky bands and makeup. He's never seen any other student here test the waters of the dress code like you did.

Yet that wasn't what shocked him, but rather...the person underneath all of that.

You looked awfully familiar...

Where has he seen you before?

Funny enough, you were asking yourself that same question as you stared back up at this guy, trying to figure out why he was giving you such an odd look.

At first it seemed judgy.

But then you saw those familiar golden eyes, the black hair with purple highlights....you only ever knew one person with those characteristics.

"No way..Kieran?"

"....[y/n]?" He murmured, stunned. "You..remember me?"

"It took me a second, but wow...it really is you!" You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. "I haven't seen you in years, dude! And I know what you're gonna say...yes, I know I look like a Team Yell member. But I just like the fashion back in Spikemuth. It stuck with me."

"Wowzers...you went to Galar...?"

"Oh yeah. Went there to study and ended up staying a bit longer than I meant to...but it was great." Smiling, you rubbed the top of your head. "I got myself a nice trim while there. It was a much-needed change. Speaking of which....I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair up." You raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah..it was..getting in the way." Kieran brushed back his bangs, still reeling from the shock of seeing his childhood friend here at his school after all these years.

Not to mention how you presented yourself as this confident and boisterous person. Were you really that same shy long-haired friend he knew back in Kitakami?

"[Y/n], you know this guy?"

You both glanced back at your friend group, and you nodded. "Yep. He's an old friend from the Land of Kitakami. Honest to Arceus I had no idea he attended this school..but then again I literally just enrolled today. Either way, it's a nice surprise. Glad to see you again, Ki."

"Same." He nodded, although there seemed to be a certain sadness in his eyes as he stared at the people surrounding you, shoulders slumped. "Anyways, uh...I wanted to welcome you all to the club. I-I'll be back later. Bye, [y/n]."

With a nervous swallow, he quickly turned tail and left the clubroom, while your friends wondered why he looked at them all that way...

You believed you already knew the reason..

But when you saw their confused gazed, you just smiled and shrugged. "Don't worry about him, he's shy."

"Shy? But that guy used to be this school's champion!"

"...no way, really?" Your eyes widened, resting your arms on the tablr as you leaned towards one of your friends. "Tell me more."

.........

At the end of the day, the club was ready to close up shop. Everybody else had left except for you and Toxtricity.

You volunteered to stay late, picking up the messes your friends left behind, such as the opened snacks and sodas (some of them being from Drayton, of course). Amarys did promise you some BP for all your hardwork and willingness to accept responsibility, so that was motivation enough.

Despite the way you look, you weren't always some rebellious punk.

Just as you have both finished and were about to lock the door..you noticed Kieran approaching from down the hall, and he looked rather serious.

Finally, this was your chance to talk to him.

"Oh hey, Ki."

"Hey, [y/n]..is it just you here?" His gaze went past yours, eyes darting around the empty room.

"Nobody but me and Tox." You gestured to Toxtricity, who nodded and smiled, strumming the organs on their chest.

"I see they're all grown up, too." He remarked, sounding a bit more relaxed after realizing nobody else was around.

"That reminds me..how's your Sentret doing?"

"He's a Furret now. And he's doing just fine...but not on my main team, anymore. He's more like...an emotional support Pokémon, I guess?"

"Fair enough." You chuckled as you wrapped an arm around your companion's shoulders. "I learned there was more to Pokémon than just battling. They can be your best buddy, too."

"Right.." Kieran nodded, his smile fading.

You frowned a little. "Listen..I know this is kinda awkward. We haven't spoken in years, and I still feel bad for moving out of Kitakami without-"

"No, it's not that...I'm happy to see you again. I just.." He sighed, looking down at the floor. "You said..today was your first day here, right?"

"Yeah."

"I can't believe you've already made so many friends. It must feel nice.."

You were confused at his rather sour tone of voice, although you were anticipating this sort of confrontation, recalling how often he struggled to make and keep friends--besides you, of course.

But even now, it seems those insecurities never left him.

"D-Did I say that out loud?" Suddenly he tensed up, appearing a little scared. "I'm sorry, you can ignore me. I'm...tired. I-It's been a long day, so I'm just gonna-"

"Wait, Kieran."

Before he could turn around and leave, you took ahold of his arm, and he looked back at you with shock. "They didn't replace you if that's what you're worried about."

"...it's not that, either."

"Then...what is it?"

"You'll think it's stupid...." He mumbled, shaking his head.

"It's not stupid if it's clearly bothering you. Look, let's just..sit down and talk about it, okay? I'm not here to judge."

He blinked at your proposal, but eventually decided to sit at the table with you. Toxtricity crouched down next to your chair so you could pet them on the head.

It took a few moments for Kieran to start talking, yet with your silent encouragement...he finally spoke up.

"How do you make it look so...easy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...you have all these friends now while I..." His voice trailed off, fists clenched on the table as he tried to keep himself calm. "..I-I can't name a single one other than you and Florian/Juliana. You'd think becoming champion and club president would make me super popular. But the truth is that it only made me feel more isolated. So how did you do it? How did you become so confident? Is there a secret or some code word I never knew about?"

"There's...no secret, Ki." You responded, your heart sinking. "Friendships just sorta..happen. Like ours did that day those jerks made fun of you at the festival of masks. I guess it was just....up to fate."

"...well I wish fate gave me the same luck as you." He bitterly muttered under his breath.

"Luck? No. That's...look, I'm not popular, and I'd never wanna be. Those people are my only friends here aside from you." You huffed. "I know I've changed since we last saw each other...but I'm still that same kid from before-"

"I barely recognized you, [y/n]." He bluntly pointed out. "We grew up together in the same place...but you went to Galar, changed your whole looks, and made so many friends here on your first day. Then there's me, who...h-hasn't really changed at all." His shoulders became slumped. "I've done things I'm ashamed of, and I'm trying to fix them, but I just feel...stuck. Like I'm never gonna move on from being that whiny little kid from Kitakami who keeps wishing he was somebody else.."

Your gaze softened a little, finally understanding his perspective. "Well..I personally don't see that anymore. I see you're trying to change for the better, and that's great. You should be proud of that."

Kieran blinked as your hand came to rest over his own, his heart skipping a beat. Yet he kept his focus on you and your comforting smile, despite finding it difficult to see the truth in your words.

He could feel that self-doubt festering inside him again.

"But..y-you don't know what I-"

"People here told me such awesome things about you, and I almost couldn't believe them."

He stared at you. "What? Really?"

"Yeah, dude! You never told me how your team uses a competitive setup with Rain Dance on the first turn...or how your Applin is all grown up into a Hydrapple. Hell, I didn't even know that was an existing evolution until today, so you taught me something new-"

However, you stopped rambling upon hearing a small sniffle coming from your friend. You then saw his lips trembling as he tried pushing back tears with his sleeve.

Internally you began to panic. "Ki? What's wrong?"

"I-I'm sorry. It's just....everybody here talks about my Pokémon and battle tactics all the time, but never about me." He whimpered. "I-I want people to like me for....me, you know?"

You nodded sympathetically, gently squeezing his hand. Guilt swelled in your heart as you never realized how lonely he must've felt since you left...and right now you probably made him feel ten times worse.

"You really are a great guy, though. Anyone would be lucky to get to know the real you."

"........."

Now you were a bit stumped on what to say next, as he was staring at the table now, sniffling like a little kid. And you began wracking your brain for any possible way you could cheer him up.

Then an idea sprung into your mind.

You were going to save it for a later occasion, but...now seemed to be the right time.

Even Toxtricity agreed with you, as they nudged your arm with a low growl, wishing you'd finally fess up and let him know how you truly felt about him.

Your heart was beating fast, but you pushed away the nerves and momentarily let go of his hand to retrieve a pokeball from your bag. He seemed too caught-up in his own thoughts to notice, still wiping away his tears.

"But y'know what could be better than having friends?"

With watery eyes, Kieran managed to look at you straight on. "What?"

You didn't say a word, instead turning his hand over and placing a love ball into his palm. He looked at you with confusion, before gasping as the device suddenly opened on its own to reveal....

A Shiny Applin.

"Wowzers.." He gawked. "So this is what their shinies look like??"

"Yep. Straight from Galar."

"The love ball is an interesting choice.." He remarked, watching as the Applin jumped onto the table and gazed at him. "But..while I appreciate the gift, I-I....don't really see how owning a shiny is gonna help-"

"Oh, so he doesn't know, Tox..." You whispered to your companion, who simply snickered back.

"Tahaahaa.."

"....know what?" Kieran's eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the smirks you and Toxtricity were exchanging, growing more and more confused and concerned. "Can someone explain?"

"In Galar, people give Applins to each other as a romantic gesture." You stated bluntly, feeling your face burn up....but you prayed he would finally get the hint.

It took him about five seconds, his jaw dropping. "What??? Y-You.....really see me that way?" His heart began racing all over again. "Why me, though?"

"I like you for you, Ki. And that's all there is to it." You leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, watching as his eyes went wide and his blush worsened. "Hm, I guess that shy little cutie is still in there after all."

"C'mon..stop that.." Huffing, he shrunk back into his jacket in a vain attempt to hide his flusteredness. "I-I do like you, too."

"I'm glad, and I promise..I'm sticking around for a long, long time." You looked to Toxtricity, who strummed a small riff on their chest. "I owe Tox one for finding that love ball for me. I was gonna save it for some fairy type, but...I think I found a better use for it."

All Kieran could do was smile and nod, taking your hands into his own. While he was still too flushed to properly speak, he was nowhere near as sad as he was before your confession.

You were right.

This was a LOT better than having friends.

Because now he had you.

While both of your looks and personalities have definitely changed, the love and care you had for each other never did.

#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #indigo disk x reader #pokemon kieran #pokemon kieran x reader

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delopsia · 2 days

Text

Icing | Bob x Reader x Rhett

Word Count: 5,300 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, improper use of icing, food is mentioned several times, blow jobs, grinding, hand jobs, overstimulation, planning for a wedding 💐 it's porn with a very vague plot Brief Summary: This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd.

"Are you sure this is how we're supposed to do it?"

"What makes you ask that?" Bobby chirps, barely audible over the hum of the hand mixer. His eyes flick down to the cake pan held between your hands. "Seems perfectly fine to me."

The beater bumps into the edge of the bowl. Icing splatters across the countertop.

You think that might be the whisper of a swear, crossing the room.

"I don't know, it just...feels weird," but you're pulling open the door to the oven, anyhow. A plume of heat washes across your face, like the blaze of a campfire, threatening to roast you alive.

But fortunately, the only thing being baked is this tiny pan of cake batter. Locked away to its doom of inhumane temperatures until it rises to perfection.

"Honey, there are only so many ways you can bake a cake," Bob's entirely unaware of the blue icing staining his cheek as he reaches for a damp cloth. Now that you give it a squint, you reckon it might be up in his hair, too.

"Well, last I checked," reaching out to swipe at his face with your thumb, raising it to your lips. Different color. Same taste as before. "Most folks don't have to bake their own wedding cake samples."

His head turns back to the thin list of instructions, scanning over where he left off, and—oh, well, he's got blue in his hair, too.

"Hey, get a load of this," Rhett's voice echoes from the living room, socked feet thumping across the hardwood. "They're sellin' that ol' rodeo property in town."

You're not entirely sure what woke him; if it was the clatter of skillets as you clumsily withdrew them from the oven, or if it was the bickering over why Bobby continues to use the appliance as a storage unit. It had to have been something you two did; fifteen minutes is astronomically short for a Rhett nap.

Maybe he never went to sleep to begin with because he's got a newspaper in hand. Today's date sits proudly in the corner, next to his thumb; he must have picked it up from the gas station on his drive home.

"We should buy it," waggling the paper in his hand, like it'll somehow convince you and Bobby to scrounge up ninety-five grand for an arena that has been abandoned for the better half of two decades.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," Bob's mixer kicks back on, an obnoxious noise sounding through the kitchen. Surely, there have to be quieter models out there. "We'll put an offer in next week."

"Ha. Ha," Rhett's eyes roll, the newspaper falling onto the recently cleared counter, right where Bobby was saving space for the blue icing. "Funny."

His mouth opens like he's got more to say, but nothing slips past those thin lips. Soft blue eyes flicker across the counter, scanning across your rainbow assortment of icings, the sample baggies of sprinkles and candles, and the portfolio of decorative figures. Not one of the premade couples comes with a third partner, but you're not entirely sure if you want to go that route to begin with.

Rhett's nose wrinkles; lost. You've got nothing more than a shrug to offer.

"All I'm sayin' is," picking back up on the hanging conversation, he reaches out to poke his finger into an open dish of sprinkles. The ones made to look like pearls. There were more, but half got lost when you accidentally ripped the package open. "You'll have a lotta time on your hands when ya leave the Navy."

The mixer shuts off.

"Who said I was leaving the Navy?"

Rhett's lifting a pearl to his mouth, obnoxious tongue poking out to catch it. "You, last night."

"And the night before that." You add, with a nudge of your shoulder.

And the night before that one. Sometime five mornings ago. Again, last week. After the most recent deployment and the one before that. Before the engagement and way before the house was bought...actually, when has he not talked about this?

The pearl cracks so loud that you almost wonder if it chipped Rhett's tooth. His brows furrow, shifting the hunk of sugar around in his mouth. "The hell are you two doin'...?"

"We're baking our wedding cake samples," and even with Bob saying it so matter of factly, it doesn't sound right. Nothing about this picture is correct.

Rhett's head tilts to the side. Even the dark hair cascading into his face can't hide those questioning eyes.

"See?" Throwing your hand out as if Bobby hasn't noticed the puppy-dog of a man standing on the other side of the island. "Even he's confused by this."

Nobody bakes their own wedding cake samples. This is your sign to find a better bakery! Before the stakes grow even higher!

Careful, Bob pulls the mixer from the bowl, turning around to drop the beaters into the sink. "He's always confused."

"Hey!" Rhett squawks. "Ya jus' gonna say that 'n turn your back to me?"

Not a word leaves Bob's mouth, deliberately keeping his back to you and Rhett as if to drive home his unspoken point. He's doing his best to remain firm, but even so, you can see the way the corner of his lip rises with every passing second. Must be able to hear the way Rhett's rounding the corner, big hands reaching out to grab hold of bony hips.

It's a little too easy for him to force Bob to turn.

"What, can't say it to my face?" Any venom in Rhett's tone is lost in the midst of his chuckle. Amused.

Still, Bobby remains quiet, defiantly folding his arms across his chest, like that will somehow stop the smile from bursting onto his pale face. It's a losing game. Rhett knows it. You know it. He knows it. The whole world knows it.

Rhett's tilting his head, leaning close. "Say." Kiss. "It." Kiss. Bob's hand reaches out toward the counter. "To." Kiss. "My." Kiss. His finger dips into blue icing. "Face." Kiss. "Pal." Kiss.

One blink, and you nearly miss it. The swift drag of Bobby's fingertip, smearing the artificially dyed sweetness onto Rhett's thin lips. Leaves just a big enough mess for him to lean in and press his mouth to Rhett's, that soft pink tongue darting out to lick it off. It ends as quickly as it started, with Bobby turning back to the counter, already beginning to pour another pack of sprinkles into an empty container.

Rhett's wide eyes meet with yours. Bewildered.

...huh.

"What do we think of lemon?" Bobby's speaking as if nothing ever happened. Acting it, too.

You're not entirely sure what he means by that. "I'm sorry?"

"Cake flavors," holding up a non-descript packet of mix. "There's lemon in here."

Rhett's nose wrinkles, and you can't help but wonder if he's recalling the sourness of the lemon pie you two tried to put together for Bobby. Worst damn welcome home present you've ever made.

"Is there a difference to the icin'?" Rhett asks, poking at one of the bowls.

"They're all the same." Bob's head shakes, sprinkles audibly pouring out of the packet and into yet another bowl. Who's gonna wash all these dishes, anyhow?

Rhett's eyes meet with yours. Brows furrowing, like this is the most absurd thing he's ever heard. If the initial confusion hadn't already worn off, you reckon you'd be feeling the same damn thing. Who does this, and why are you just letting it happen? Is your life so devoid of joy that this is what you've allowed yourself to resort to?

Or is Bob Floyd just very, very good at convincing you to blindly follow his lead?

Idle, Rhett's hand dips into some of the icing. Slow. Flying just below the radar of Bobby's peripheral. "So why'd ya make every color?"

And your poor WSO hasn't the slightest damn clue, reaching for yet another container of sprinkles. "To see what—"

Rhett's big hand presses into Bob's pale cheek, vibrant orange icing splattering against his skin. Dragging down, down, down his neck and onto the little bit of chest peeking out from the low collar of his shirt.

You know what's going to happen before it even starts. Bobby's fingers dive into a pool of pale yellow. Smacking it into Rhett's broad chest, gets the base of his neck and all. And Rhett's reaching for the pink, dragging it across an unwitting forearm. Bob's going for green. Reaching for Rhett's scruffy jaw. Giggles bubble through the air.

Blue splatters across the kitchen floor and across your shirt.

Your white shirt. "Hey!"

"He started it!" Bob squeaks. But he's stumbling backward, bumping into you as he reaches for another bowl—ammunition for the next attack.

All Rhett can do is grin. "Did I?"

Insufferable.

Your hand darts out from your side, venturing to the counter.

Purple splatters across Bobby's clothed belly. The only spot you could reach.

"Both of you?" Bobby's squawking. Twisting. Turning until he's got his back to the sink and not you or Rhett, his vibrantly colored hands held toward the ceiling. Surrender, or preparing his next move? You're not sure yet.

God, he's a mess. Splatters of orange, pink, blue, and plain white, stretching from his nose to his belly; you think there might be a little bit of purple lurking beneath his chin. Rhett's not doing much better, green clinging to his jaw, chest decorated with a vibrant smear of yellow.

"What else are we s'pposed t' do with all this icin'?" He asks, lifting his fingers to his lips, short pink tongue darting out to lap up the sweetness clinging to his skin.

Bob's eyes roll. You wonder if he's noticed the drop of green on his lens. "Well, wearing it shouldn't even make the list!" But it's nothing compared to the icing on his neck, sickly sweet and spread thin over the thick vein that bulges from beneath his skin.

"I can think of a few ideas," muttering, entranced.

Out of his peripheral, Rhett meets your eye. The corner of his lip twitches up, fingers slipping out of his mouth with a wet 'pop' so loud that it echoes through the kitchen.

"What..." Bob swallows. Adam's apple rising and falling. Soft blues flicker between you and Rhett; must be able to read the thoughts filtering through your head. "Would that entail, exactly?"

You don't know who steps forward first. But one way or another, your sticky hands are finding their way to Bobby's chest, bracing yourself as you lean in. Rhett's so close that his hair tickles your cheek; he had a longer distance to cross than you did, and yet he's already beating you to the point. Licking a fat, wet stripe up the side of Bob's neck.

And you're in hot pursuit. Licking up the other side, trailing across that thick vein, multicolored icing greeting your taste buds. But that sugary sweetness is nearly dulled in comparison to the soft mewl that rolls out of Bobby's mouth, his head rolling backward.

"Okay..." he breathes, "that's..."

The flavor of this icing is far from your favorite; it isn't even close to the one you had in mind when contacting the bakery, but you can hardly pay it any attention. Nothing but a mild annoyance when you've got this to preoccupy your mind with. Bob's hand, working its way up your side. Rhett's soft hum, downright delighted with this predicament.

Careful, your lips press to a soft patch of skin beneath his ear, sucking lightly. Not enough to bruise his terribly sensitive skin, but still managing to leave behind a faint redness in your wake. One tiny little mark after another, spots blending amongst the vivid orange that you've yet to lick up.

This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd. Him and his sticky, heaving chest, squirming as you work lower, lower, lower. Teeth grazing across his collar, tugging on the flesh stretched thin over the bone there.

Rhett's shoulder knocks into your side, a little too broad to be squeezing himself in next to you. His hands venture to the hem of Bob's horribly stained t-shirt, yanking upward.

"The cake," Bob's panted protest is hardly one at all, "you can't...it'll burn." And yet he's obediently lifting his arms, letting Rhett pull the shirt over his head. Maybe letting it fall to the floor isn't the best idea, but you're in no position to raise even the slightest objection.

"We have time," you murmur. Lie. You don't even know if you set the timer.

Frankly, you don't care. It's just too damn easy to forget about. Letting your mouth find its way down Bob's pale chest, a thin trail of saliva marking your path as if you could possibly become lost in this familiar terrain.

But even though you've had a head start, Rhett still manages to beat you to the checkpoint, his lips wrapping around a delicate nipple. So sudden that Bob jerks beneath you, his feet stumbling. Two can play this game, though, and Rhett can only pay attention to one thing at a time.

Without the slightest warning, you sink down. Knees thunking heavily against the cold kitchen tile. They'll ache when you ultimately climb back to your feet, but that's for the future version of you to worry about. Right now, your bold hand is soothing over the heavy bulge in these sweats, feeling how Bobby twitches from the simplest touch.

"Can't believe you're already hard, Robby," teasing, your thumb swipes right beneath his tip. The wet spot forming in the thin gray material is like a reward.

"You're..." his head rolls, fingers tugging at Rhett's hair, "surprised?"

Not in the slightest.

It's Rhett who reaches for the thick elastic of Bob's waistband. Watching through thick lashes as you help pull it downso swiftly that his cock brushes your cheek as it springs up to smack against his belly. Flushed a bright ruby, a small bead of precum running down the underside of him.

"Shit," Rhett swears; it's so quiet that you can hear the way his knees creak as he settles down next to you.

And now both of you are down here, caught up in some kind of perfect synchrony, leaning forward to run your tongues up the sides of Bob's cock. Relishing in that shuddered gasp as you and Rhett meet at his head, lips brushing in what was meant to be a sloppy kiss, but it's more of a clash of tongues than anything. Broken apart by Bob's soft cock head, caught perfectly in the middle.

"You...." Bob's hand bumps into your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there, "fuck, you two are..."

Rhett's chuckle is all it takes to have Bob's sharp hips bucking forward, pushing himself right past your parted lips. Wasn't exactly next up on your itinerary, but you're rolling with it as if it was. Sucking gently, tongue swiping back and forth beneath it. Teasing while you still can.

Not a single beat is missed. With the delicate hollow of your cheeks and the lazy way Rhett mouths at the side of him, it's almost hard to believe that this wasn't choreographed earlier in the day. As if anyone could have predicted that Bob was serious about this whole 'baking cake samples' thing.

"Y' likin' that, Bobby?" Rhett hums, pausing to graze his teeth against delicate skin. "Watchin' both of us on our knees for ya?"

You're leaning back, and Rhett's moving in to take over for you. Doesn't need to use his hands, as he sucks that leaking tip into his mouth.

Bob sucks in a breath. His other hand dives into Rhett's hair, tangling in the mess of it. "How could I—mhm, not?"

All of a sudden, Rhett's sliding further down, eyes scrunching shut as Bob knocks into the back of his throat, but that's never been enough to deter him. It's a wonder he's got a gag reflex at all. You can't help but twist yourself around, a hand coming to rest on his lower back, bracing yourself as you find your way to the underside of his jaw. Air audibly puffs through his nose. Always has been sensitive here.

Sweet, too, with all of this icing to be licked up. There simply isn't another person cut out for this sort of job. The artificial flavor is far from your favorite, but you can't be inclined to share. Not when he tries to lean into it, a muffled grunt rumbling out of him.

Above you, Bob can't close his mouth. "That's...oh, that's—"

A shrill beep tears through the air. Once. Twice. Thrice.

So you did set the timer. Lucky him.

And Rhett laughs. Barely able to pull away before he chokes, swollen lips glistening as they meld with the shape of his smile. "Guess ya gotta check that, flyboy."

This is the first and likely the last time you'll see Bob Floyd check an oven with his sweats pooling around his thighs, heavy cock bouncing as he leans down to see what he's doing. Is the cake done? Or burnt? You haven't the slightest clue because Rhett's kissing at the side of your neck, and any self-control you had left dissolves in an instant.

"Shame y' didn't get more of this on ya," he's speaking into your skin, vibrating right up into your head and rattling all your thoughts off their metaphorical shelves.

The stain on your brand-new shirt is speaking otherwise. "This stuff doesn't even taste that great."

"'s good when it's on one of you," he does, unfortunately, make a really good point. The kind that lets him get away with pushing your pants down your legs, underwear and all, right here in the damn kitchen. So much for trying to break the habit of kitchen shenanigans.

You wonder if this memory will wander back into your mind the next time you invite guests over and eat in this kitchen.

Rhett's hands settle on the sides of your waist, pulling you into him as he leans backward. Knocking the back of his head against the tile can't feel good, but he doesn't react in the slightest. Too busy pulling you on top of him, your legs straddling his wide hips. They hitch upward, so strong that they push you along with it, as he shoves his shorts down his legs, cock audibly smacking against his belly, swiping against your thigh as it drifts past.

"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" Your hands brace against his chest, chasing the illusion of stability.

"Mhm," is the best he's got to offer, and he's hardly got to guide you any further. You're already beating him to the punch, grinding down against his length, letting him slip between your parted lips.

Fuck, it's been a while since you last felt his weeping cock head drag against your clit. You wonder if he can feel the way you involuntarily clench around nothing, sent into a mindless spasm from that alone.

Bobby's knees audibly knock against the floor, and you're not entirely sure where his sweats went. "You two move too damn fast."

"Maybe you're just slow," there's nothing but playfulness in your tone, albeit the slightest bit breathless. You can't help it. Not when you've got this going on between your legs. Rhett and his big cock rolling up into you, chasing the feeling of your pussy against him. Beads of precum slicken the glide, every motion punctuated by a sickly wet little noise.

"'n ya say I'm the one always givin' ya trouble," Rhett's not doing much to help his own case, but then again, you don't think that was his goal.

It's an awkward angle, with Bob sitting on his knees and Rhett laying against the floor, but he's craning his head up, tongue greeting the underside of Bob's cock. A fleeting sort of thing that only lasts a moment or three.

"You're gonna upset your shoulder if you keep doing that," Bobby hums, not making any move to stop Rhett from trying at it again, lips stubbornly wrapping around his mushroom tip.

There's a spin in your head that wasn't there before. Lightheaded over the sight before you and the sweet throb of your cunt, sliding against Rhett's shaft like you're aiming to win a first-place trophy. Hands flat against his heaving chest, trembling arms hardly keeping your body upright as your hips roll.

"Can feel ya gettin' wetter round me," Rhett's eyelashes are fluttering, and it's all he can do to keep himself from knocking his skull against the tile again. "Fuck."

"As if you're not dripping like a damn faucet," your words hitching on a gasp, the embers of a whine building in the back of your throat. Getting off to this wasn't on your list of plans, but with every soft massage of his plush tip, you're growing closer to writing it at the very top.

Rhett's back arches off the ground, legs kicking beneath you, like he can feel the heat that's flooding your lower belly. Makes it so damn hard for you to keep moving your body back and forth, hopelessly grinding back and forth, obsessed with the way he kisses your clit on every pass.

"God, you two should see yourselves," Bobby says it like he's caught up in a trance; you don't think you've seen him blink since he knelt down here.

"Enjoying the show?" Speaking through a gasp. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your eyes are rolling backward, and Rhett's twitching against you, and it's so, so much.

His hands settle on your aching thighs. Blunt nails digging into the meat of them. Does nothing to ward off the shiver that's settled into the muscle there. But his hips are rising up off the floor, and he's rutting himself into you properly now, rubbing against your poor clit over and over and over.

"Rhett—" whimpering high in your throat. Head tilting back. You're...he's...

"C'mon," in that raspy tone of his, wavering with the motion of his body, "cum on my cock."

Bob's cool hand glides up the side of your neck, and that is it.

A choked noise echoes through the kitchen and into the living room. Spasming, cumming to the drag of him against your clit alone. Clenching helplessly around nothing but air, a ripple running up your spine. Your arms crumple out from under you. Stars sparkle behind your eyelids like the night sky. Falling into a messy heap on Rhett's chest, helpless as his cock keeps rubbing against your dripping cunt.

"Ah—Rhett!" Jolting. Oversensitive. And it's all you can do to slide off of him, letting gravity drag you down to his side instead, a leg lazily sprawled overtop his thigh. You don't know if he's laughing or if you're hearing the hammer of your heart beating away in your ears.

"Awful quick," Bob's eyes flick to you, hardly able to conceal the playful glint in them.

You ought to give him trouble for such a comment, but your head is still spinning like it's about to float up into the clouds. The best you can do is to swipe out with your hand, smacking against his belly. "Like you're any better."

Rhett's chest rumbles with a chuckle. You're not entirely sure when he got his arm around you, but it's carefully squeezing you into him. Keeping you snug against his chest as Bobby moves to settle between his legs.

And this...this is a hell of an angle to be observing from. You don't have to move your eyes or tilt your head at all, comfortably gazing at the sight of Rhett's plush thighs caging Bob's waist. On its own, your hand darts out, grabbing a handful of one. There's so much more to squeeze compared to when you first met; he's exchanged that wiry frame for something thicker, stronger, too.

Bob's reaching for his own cock, still wet with saliva, as he leans forward, fingers darting out to wrap around Rhett, too.

One stroke and Rhett's hips lift off the floor. "Shit."

He's so damn wet, with what mess you've made of him and the precum spilling out of his inflamed tip like a dripping faucet. Bob's thumb swipes out, collecting the clear fluid and spreading it onto himself, but before he's done there's already another bead of it forming.

"Good lord, Rhett," Bob mutters, and you're not entirely sure where he got that packet of lube from, tearing it open with his teeth, already beginning to pour the sticky substance onto their cocks.

So much for trying to break Rhett of that habit.

If he'd give Rhett a few minutes, you think he'd spill out enough to warrant forgoing lube altogether, but Bobby can only stretch his patience so far. Never has been able to hold out for very long when it comes to you and Rhett. That big hand of his gives an experimental stroke, a wet squelch sounding through the delicate air; you don't know who groans louder.

What you do know is that the sight before you is downright obscene. Rhett's legs squeezing around Bobby like he'll disappear if he doesn't, their heavy cocks twitching into one another. How Rhett's tip has a darker shade of red as compared to Bob's pale pink. They look so similar until they're right next to each other like this; it's the only way to tell that Bob's a fraction longer but not quite as thick as Rhett is.

Bob jerks forward, pressing impossibly closer. "Does that feel good?" As if he's not speaking around his own strangled breath.

You have to lift your head to get a better look at Rhett's face. Eyes scrunched shut, teeth worrying his thin bottom lip, cheeks flushed with a newfound redness. "Uhuh." His head shakes with what you think is a nod.

Maybe that's an answer Bob was looking for, but you want to hear more. "Use your words, cowboy."

"It feels—" Swallowing hard. A microscopic mewl breaks past his lips. "Feels good!"

He's already dissolving into a mess of squirms, wriggling back and forth, the swift stroke of Bob's hand too much for him to handle. Bucking upward, only to try and draw away, unshaven jaw shivering like a leaf in the wind.

Your fingers drift upward, nails dragging across the soft meet of his inner thigh, knuckles brushing against his balls as you drift past. Lightly rolling them in your palm would draw the prettiest sounds out of him, but today, you've got a slightly different plan in mind. Fingertips wander into the soft expanse of skin behind them, rubbing in loose circles.

A pitchy cry rings in your ears. Rhett's hand flies up. Tugging at his own hair. Desperate to grab hold of something. "Fuck! 'm gonna..." His head thrashes, pretty neck barred to the world. "I'm, I'm—"

"You fixin' to cum for us, sweet thing?" Bobby's voice sounds akin to thunder, a little twang in his tone. His thumb darts out, rapidly swiping back and forth across Rhett's plush cock head.

Curls bounce with Rhett's nod. Hardly able to close his mouth and stifle his moan. Yet, it's so loud that you can hear it anyway. Your fingers keep spiraling, pressing the slightest bit harder. You're almost certain that you can feel the sporadic twitch of muscle as his back arches, cumming with a wail.

A rope of white paints across his belly. The next one caught by Bobby's still moving hand. Disappearing into the squelching mix of lube and precum and your own juices, some kind of lewd recipe for disaster. Rhett's hips jerk. Yanks a grunt out of him.

But Bobby's not stopping. Still pumping their cocks together as if nothing ever happened. If anything, you think he's going faster, and it's got Rhett jumping around like a wounded animal. Mouth wide open. Brows knit together.

"Too much, too much, that's not—ah!" He squeals. Panting hard. Frantically pawing at Bob's hand, but it's doing nothing to end his torment.

"Hang on for me," Bob's eyes scrunch shut. Hissing through his teeth. Close. "You can do it."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't, that—haah!" Rhett's twitching. Wailing. Legs kicking in the air.Still smacking at Bob's rapidly jerking fist as if that can possibly save him, but he's not uttering a single note of his safe word. Merely dissolving into a frenzied babble of, "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!"

That's all it takes for Bob's pale blue eyes to roll into the back of his head with a soft, deepened groan. Set off by the babbled cry of a helpless cowboy, trembling like a leaf beneath him. Rope after rope of cum, splattering against Rhett's lower belly and all over his softening cock. A visible shiver rakes its way up Bob's spine, and for a moment you think his glasses are about to fall off.

Finally, finally, the motion of that big hand is beginning to slow, loosening until Rhett's length slips from his grip entirely, smacking against his skin. Between the wateriness of Rhett's eyes and the redness in Bob's cheeks, you're not entirely sure where to look. Each are tempting in their own right, but not enough time to focus on both.

You suppose your distraction is why it takes a moment to realize that Bob's actually moving. Leaning down at a snail's pace, his lips pressing to your forehead, lingering for a moment or three before moving on to Rhett's, pressing a kiss to him, too. "Maybe we should call a different bakery," he murmurs, half-lidded gaze flickering to you.

If this is all it took, then next time, you'll skip the arguing and jump right into kissing down his neck. "You think?" There's a hoarseness to your voice that wasn't there before; you blame the icing.

Whether or not he caught the sarcasm in your tone, you have no idea.

"Yeah..." Bobby pauses as Rhett leans in to steal a proper kiss on the lips. "Now we've gotta do something with all these ingredients."

Rhett hums. Sounds akin to a cat purring. "I have a few ideas." You wonder if those ideas include smearing each other with icing again or offhandedly snacking on sprinkles for the next several months.

"I'll hear you out on those ideas," yawning, a strangled little noise escaping you, "when we're in bed."

A valid request, but Bobby's wrinkling his nose at it. "How about a bath, then bed."

"Y' act like we were just rollin' in mud," Rhett's fingers tap at your shoulder, gently squeezing.

"I love you two, but I draw the line at sticky sheets." Well, if Bob wants you to take a bath so damn bad, then he's gonna have to help you find the strength to get off this floor. Your hand reaches out, opening and closing in a grabbing motion.

It takes a couple seconds of looking at it for him to realize what you're asking, but after a moment, he slips his hand into yours, holding it as he rises to his feet. Something in your knee audibly pops as he pulls you up, an ache blooming in the bone from digging into the floor earlier. Your feet stumble, knocking into Rhett and nearly taking him back down with you.

"You're a mess, sweetheart," Bob laughs, pulling on your hand as if you're still due to fall at any moment. You're not entirely sure when you acquired the purple icing on your thigh or the smear of green running down your leg; you refuse to acknowledge the array of colors on the floor until after you've had a nap.

"So are you," not an ounce of venom in your tone, despite the attempt at mustering some kind of sarcastic bite. Behind you, Rhett hums his agreement. Someone started this, and it certainly was not you or Rhett.

"No, I'm not," Bob's beaming, almost proud of himself. "You two licked me clean, remember?"

It'll take the rest of the day for him to notice the icing on his glasses.

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #rhett abbott #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #hawtho #hawthorn au #oneshot #tw food

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