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lincolndjarin · 5 months

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Not So Secret Santa

javier peña x fem!reader

this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!

summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.

warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.

tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.

word count : 4.4k

✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)

no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging.

“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.

“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.

“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim.

“My entire Christmas bonus.”

“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh.

“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this.

“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work.

“Please, Steve.”

“No.”

You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours.

When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process.

“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away.

Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today.

Javier P.

Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office.

And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with.

Every single woman, except you.

You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner.

He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be.

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo.

“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed.

“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk.

“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her.

“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs.

You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails.

Red chipped paint.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.

It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway.

Probably.

It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you?

With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless.

Stupid fucking Peña.

Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.

Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though.

You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap.

Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday.

Jesus.

You know way too much about him.

You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails.

“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette.

Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night.

There’s no time to be thinking like that.

You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.

Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower.

The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.

“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt.

“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes.

He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.

More people show up than you could have expected.

You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses.

You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours.

Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt.

You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach.

String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation.

“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie.

He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier.

Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.

One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.

You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up.

“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift.

“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things.

“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away.

Javier traded for your name?

As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting.

“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.

Huh.

That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again.

Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident.

Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend.

Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.

You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people.

Javier’s office.

You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.

Today is just not your day.

Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand.

Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him.

“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult.

“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab.

What a foolish question.

How could he possibly not know?

“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home.

“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall.

“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow.

“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”

“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?

This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out.

“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends.

“So this is about the secret Santa.”

Of course he wouldn’t get it.

“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him.

You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first.

“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms.

“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.

“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide.

You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye.

“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night.

“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.”

If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go.

You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you.

Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.

When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole.

“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth.

“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts.

You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt.

You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment.

Jesus you’re soaked.

You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him.

He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here.

You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.

Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock.

Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission.

You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you.

You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust.

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor.

“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.

He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk.

Did that really just happen?

He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time.

“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning.

“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk.

“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while.

“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.

“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin.

“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss.

It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait.

“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.

Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier.

[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]

Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting.

from : your secret fucking santa

a/n : happy holidays everyone!!

#pedrostoriesgift23 #lincolndjarin #taro-666 <3 #javier pena smut #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal

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arthenaa · 5 months

Text

my love mine all mine— mizu x f! reader

synopsis: marriage is nigh for someone your age and with society's expectations of you, how long will you have to keep waiting for him?

content: 18+ nsfw, mdni, angst w comfort, fluff, she/her pronouns for reader, he/she pronouns for mizu, patriarchal views on women, arranged marriage, jealousy, use of sex toys, idiots in love

a/n: part 2 of nocturne (interlude)!! this is for that anon who was on their finals week (ur req got deleted i h8 tumblr) and to those who requested for a part 2 !!! a reward for your hard work

Your relationship with Mizu was ... interesting.

After what happened that day, your relationship progressed into a deeper sense of connection. He was attracted to you as much as you were attracted to him. A fact that made your fingers tingle with anticipation every time he came down to your village under the guise of getting more medicine.

Your father had no complaints as business is business and provided him with what he needed, although you could see the occassional side eyes that your father gives him every time he stays longer than he was supposed to be. It was a comical sight indeed.

Mizu helped you out as much as he could—whether it be mundane house chores or taxing ones that require hard labor or a change of locations, he was down to accompany you in any way.

While yes, his efforts of providing you aid sent a surge of butterflies down your stomach, what ultimately led you to hammering a nail in the coffin was the subtle touches that he gave you.

You knew he knew and he knew that he was being smug about it. While it didn't show on his face, his eyes told it all. Whether it be passing by and gently placing a hand on the small of your back to excuse himself out of your way as if there wasn't a 2-meter space to your right or the brushing of fingers when he lent you something or if he's being bold enough, especially when your father's not looking, outright pretending that there was a fabric stuck on your hairpin and so he leans in close to you only to place a kiss on your cheek—he always has to have some sort of skinship with you during the day. It often left you struggling for words or having a flushed face.

"Dear," Your father furrows his eyebrows as he eyes your flushed cheeks. You tense in his gaze as he glances at Mizu who appears calm as he takes a sip of his drink. The blue-eyed samurai had done it again—saw an opening and took it like he was meant for it. He fooled you into thinking that your hair was out of place and offered to fix it. Your father had stepped out to get the food and you had hoped that he stayed somehow so that you wouldn't have to deal with all this bullcrap. Mizu took the chance to grab your chin and place a kiss on your lips. Your father came back shortly and you haven't relaxed since. "You don't look alright. Do you want me to—?"

"I-It's fine, Dad!" You intercept, hands raised as you shake no. "The soup was just... hot."

You glance at Mizu who looks at you from the side of his eye. He smirks over his cup.

It was safe to say that Mizu was also mischievous by nature. Despite his usual calm and cool demeanor, you didn't expect the man before you to be quite playful when it came to just between the two of you.

You did all these things, said all those things, looked at each other with things unspoken of and you're quite sure that your relationship was susceptible to the one thing you're quite sure would lead to.

Marriage.

A want for some, a necessity for many. You'd think that in your years of living in this town that you'd find a partner suitable for marriage and you did! Just a little bit later than others.

You had expected that... Mizu would propose. After all, what comes after dating but marriage? Your father and mother did that, your aunts, uncles, cousins, hell, even your friends already got married albeit some of them out of their own will.

You dreamed of having a true love marriage. One that you could be yourself and never have to be ashamed of loving someone despite their stature in life. One that you could coexist with and that could never demean your existence as a woman. You knew those things were far fetched from reality but everyone wishes to dream right?

You had tried discreetly asking about it, curious as to why he barely mentions anything but he only casts you an unreadable look on his face then a soft smile.

He kissed the back of your hand with a gentle touch, softness mirroring that of a snowflake's descent.

"... I can't," He says. You're not sure as to why he sounded in pain, like something was troubling him but you knew better than to pry. "Not right now."

So you let it go.

It was times like this that you felt the other half of the relationship. Like there was still a barrier you couldn't decipher between you. Why he often looks secretive with your father at times or why he falls silent at the most random of moments. There was something you didn't know and it often aches you that you couldn't be able to understand him unless you knew the inner workings of his mind.

The first instance that brought up the onslaught of problems that would soon arise was the arrival of a proposal from the south. It came in the form of a letter, writings neatly imprinted on fine parchment—rolled with the delicacy that of a noble.

You could see your father's nervous glance as the messenger read what was sent to him. You could hear bits and pieces of the arrangement, hands wringing each other in anxiety as your eyes trained on your father's back. Mizu had not arrived that day and normally, you would fret over such things but your father casts a glance at you over his shoulder and suddenly everything seems to have changed its course.

"Father," You pant as you gather the ends of your kimono, trying to match the pace of your patriarch as he travels all over the house. He seems to not be at rest from the talk with the messenger—a perpetual stone-cold look plastered on his face. "Father!"

He enters the part of your house you haven't gone to in ages. Not because you despised it but because you were afraid that the spirit that once dwelled in its abode would arise and look at you with those same eyes that once held all the love and memories when you were but a wee girl. You hesitate at the entrance but decide to follow him through.

"Not right now, Y/N," He mumbles, agitated as he crouches over a chest and begins digging through the array of clothes. Your eyebrows furrow.

"What—What did he say?" You stammer as you stand to his left, eyes watching his every move as he frantically rummages through the fabrics. "Father, I have—I need to know."

Your father pauses, defeatedly slumping against the chest as his fingers tap against the wooden surface in thought. Silence ensues between the two of you and suddenly he turns to you with a sympathetic look on his face. Your blood runs cold.

"Lord Shimizu—" He pauses, catching himself stammering as he looked into those eyes that were fruition of shared dreams and a love he hasn't forgotten in ages. "He asked for your hand in marriage."

You stare at him with a shaky gaze, breath going in and out as you tried to process his response.

"Then-Then tell him no," Your eyebrows furrow. Your father falls silent at your words. "Tell him like you've always told the others."

"I can't, Y/N," He whispers, tone shifting into despair. Your shoulders are low as he lowers his head in shame.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't," He emphasizes his words once more, eyes darting up to meet yours. "I have always tried to protect you but I can't this time."

Your face falls in desperation as you kneel down with him. You grab his hands in an attempt to convince him once more.

"Father, please, I can't—I don't even know him!" You plead as your grip on his callous fingers tightens. He looks at you with sadness. "Please Father, I'll do anything, just don't—"

"Y/N," He cuts you off with a stern voice. You fall silent as you wait for his response. "This man is from Kyoto. While the men here fear my stature as a medic, this man has access to professionals far greater than me. He doesn't regard me as someone important and if I dare raise my voice, we might as well be dead."

Your figure tenses at his words. He grabs your arms in an attempt to comfort you. In a last attempt to get him to decline the offer, you say the thoughts that have been at the forefront of your mind.

"I'm in love with Mizu," Your voice comes out in a whisper, eyes wide and tears welling up. He tenses at your confession, eyebrows furrowing at the implications.

"You—"

"Father, I love him." Your voice comes out in a desperate attempt to get him to see you. Your hands raise to touch his arm but he suddenly raises to his feet, taking a few steps back. Your heart speeds up at his reaction.

"Is that why he—?" Your father whispers out in thought. You're not sure if he was angry or disappointed, but you're quite sure that this was a bad thing. His face contorts into a look of anger as he continues to look at you with a hardened gaze. "When was this?"

"You told me you wanted me to have a true love marriage, Father—This is it!" You look up at him with a defiance so strong that it almost gives your father a whiplash of how similar it looked. He falters in his stance but remains rooted to his cause.

"I know but not to—!" He catches himself at the end of his sentence. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. He runs a hand through his face before sighing. "Not like this. Not to him. Not Mizu, Y/N."

Your eyebrows furrow in anger at his words. "You can't dictate what I feel for him."

There's a moment of silence as your father casts you an unreadable look on his face. You thought that your father might approve of Mizu. They after all started at the same steps and eventually grew to the path they were destined for, albeit in different fields. You're not quite sure as to what led to this defiance against your choice for marriage but it already has you intruiged.

"The messenger talks of praises of Lord Shimizu," Your father diverts the conversation. "I also hear that he is a general and part of the Emperor's Kingsguard. He is of noble stature and earned his keep. He is a man fitting of your deserving."

You fall silent at his words before finally rising to your height and dusting off your kimono. You glance at the chest, eyeing the white fabric that pops out of an array of multicolored ones. You turn back to your father.

"You raised me to not be a hypocrite," Your voice is stone cold. Your father flinches at the tone. "I expected you to not be one as well."

With that you left.

The days were grueling.

Presents after presents were sent to your doorstep and while you wish that you could throw them all away, your father accepted them and kept them in the storage, still neatly wrapped for you to open.

Mizu had also arrived less and less over the past couple of days. He usually stays for more than an hour but now he leaves within the 30-minute mark. You felt like your time had been severed into bits and pieces after your fight with your father. You saw them talking, hushed in the receiving area. You expected your father to berate him for influencing his own daughter but their relationship remained civil. In fact, after his talk with your father was what prompted fewer visits and only coming for business.

He also became distant. Little to no skinship—sometimes even none at all. He talks to you in that cold tone of his and even grunts in annoyance when you try to bother him into coming with you to window shop in town.

You thought they were being unfair. That they could freely do things like this beyond your knowledge. Watch you crumble into a pit of despair at the concept of what you believed was the essence of true love. How naïve were you.

The final straw came when Mizu stayed a little bit longer than usual. He was swift with his purchase but remained seated at the tree located just outside your humble abode.

You approached him with soft steps, eyes trained on his head devoid of his kasa and the usual orange tinted glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome.

"Why are you like this?" Your voice cuts through the silence, direct and swift as a breeze passes through you. You see the familiar curl on his forehead, swishing back and forth before settling down.

Mizu does not reply for a few seconds before finally responding. "Like what?"

Your breath shakes at his nonchalance. "Like everything's back from the start."

Mizu pauses before turning his head to look at you standing behind him. There's a long duration of silence between you, eyes only locked with each other as the breeze fills in the void.

"Y/N," Your name escapes his lips like a prayer. You will yourself not to fold. "I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?"

He rises up from his seat on the ground, grabbing his Kasa in the process. He examines the item, eyeing the material woven intricately to form its shape. You could tell that there were a lot of things in his mind. You could only wait until he decided to break down the walls he built up so high.

"I didn't mean it to be this way." He finally looks at you in the eye, those beautiful shades of blue hidden by a tint of orange. He pauses himself before a change of expression is plastered on his face. "I think it's best if we stop here."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

"I said what I said," He mutters in that neutral tone of his, devoid of emotion. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "I... I am on a journey and I have wishes to accomplish. I operate on circumstances that prove to be unlawful. It's best that you don't associate yourself with me. I was too distracted to begin with."

Distracted? Is that what he thought all of this was about? Your hands shake in anger as your eyes darted any sort of giveaway that he might just be joking with you. The world was pinning its blame on your shoulders and now you have to receive the consequences of its actions.

You purse your lips, stopping yourself from bawling then and there. You can't give him the satisfaction of seeing yourself in a mess. You refuse.

You turn around without responding, making hasty steps towards your home before halting once more. You turn to see him putting on his Kasa, eyes in a daze. Upon feeling your stare at him, he turns back towards you. His gaze falters.

"I'm sorry." He says.

You could never will out the words you should've said.

Lord Shimizu came on the 3rd day of the week. He wasn't what you expected him to be.

Naturally, nobles of that standing would appear to be egocentric maniacs who dabbled and flaunted their wealth in various entertainment establishments. They act crass and speak crass as if their authority gives them the pass to be an asshole to everybody.

You thought to yourself, this man could have anybody that he wanted. He was a general, a skilled warrior, and a candidate for marriage to Japan's array of elegant and noble women. Why would he pick a humble medic's daughter all the way from Takayama?

Well, the answer finally came to you in flesh instead.

"L-Lord Shimizu!" Your father stammers over his words as a young man, your age enters the establishment. You take a step back towards the panel of the receiving area, slightly shielding yourself from the onslaught of 3-4 men entering the place. "I didn't expect you to be here."

The man does not respond yet, his eyes wander the interior of the establishment before finally settling on you. You flinch back at the intensity of his stare. Your father notices his attention on you before clearing his throat.

"Y/N?" He calls over, eyes meeting with yours as he beckons you over. You grumble under your breath before making hesitant steps to your father's side. "Ah yes, this is Y/N Gojo. My daughter. Y/N, this is Lord Shimizu Kaito."

Your eyes peer up at him underneath your lashes, trying to take a peek at his face. Shimizu flashes you a soft smile before bowing in greeting.

"Apologies for not having been able to meet before. The Emperor had requested me to attend to several cases in various cities. I hope that you and Y/N can forgive my tardy appearance." His voice is proper and elegant but you could only scoff at his words. Apparently, it was loud enough for him, your father, and the two other guards stationed behind him to hear. Your father elbows your waist.

"Apologies for my daughter," He sheepishly smiles. "She seems to have a... cold."

He eyes you with a strict look on his face which you turn to look away at. Just as you wished for all of this to be over, a wave of a hand catches your attention. You turn to look at Shimizu who softly smiles at you once more.

"I know this proposal is sudden but I hope you can give me a chance." He says, voice and tone genuine. You hesitantly purse your lips at his words. "I'll be staying around this time. I hope I can get to know you."

Lord Shimizu stayed true to his word. The past few days were nothing but him trying to get to know you as an individual. He was nice, accommodating, and even dare say, a proper friend you could talk to.

He helped you out in chores, got you gifts, had tea with you, learned your ways, and walked with you in town. If you were the person you were before, you could've deemed this man the perfect match for you.

While you appreciated his eagerness in wanting to get to know you, you also can't help but be reminded of a certain blue-eyed boy every time he did something remotely similar. He talks of his travels, his blade, his peers, his interests, and you're brought back to the time Mizu let you hold his blade in your palms, brought you trinkets from his previous adventure, talked to you about his annoying apprentice, or that he prefers his soba to have a little bit more soup in ratio to his noodles.

Everything remind you of him.

Mizu had not visited in a while. You tried asking about him to your father if he ever came to get medicine but your father denies every question.

Sometimes you catch glimpses of a familiar Kasa roaming the town streets but is only mistaken by a wandering traveler. You're not too sure how long it would take for you to lose your wits about everything.

Sensing the troubling thoughts that plagued your mind, Shimizu offered for you both to take a stroll in town at night and shop for trinkets that you might find interesting to place in your room. He tried his best to keep you entertained, asking about your interests, making you laugh, all that stuff.

The question that prompted you at the start of his arrival began to urge you to put forth a topic for conversation. You wait for Shimizu to finish his words before finally dropping the question.

"Why me?" You ask, eyes gazing into his as he halts at the question. He blinks a couple of times, not able to process the question.

"What?"

"Why me, my lord?" You repeat, hands clutching your satchel. "I am but a mere servant's daughter. You could have anyone."

He licks his lips eyebrows furrowing. "But you are someone."

You raise your eyebrows, urging for him to continue. The man takes a breath, looking around before finally settling his eyes on you.

"I..." He starts off, words trailing as he gazes into your eyes. He continues. "I came here before. As a child."

Your eyes widen at the revelation.

"People talk of a man named Gojo-sensei who was able to remedy almost all illnesses. I was sickly and my condition was worsening." He responds. The city lanterns glow beautifully behind his figure, laughter of children, men, and women alike provides solace in the void of silence between you. "I remember coming in there and seeing you. Seeing your father then..."

He trailed off like he was remembering something painful.

"I remember a lady," His face softens at the thought. Your eyebrows furrow. "While your father did the aiding, this woman had brought me comfort. I was never really coddled and treated with such gentleness back home. I was an only child—a firstborn son. Being soft and dependent was out of the vocabulary."

You fall silent at his words as he looks down at his hands.

"She... she stayed by my side. Fed me, clothed me, made sure I was okay." He looked up at you. "I saw you sometimes, clinging to the ends of her kimono."

A chilling realization surges through your veins. Your silence prompts him to continue.

"I heard the news that she passed away years ago. I wasn't able to come due to my duties but I am indebted to her." He says. "Then, when I visited a month ago. I saw you—a spitting image."

Your breath shakes at the words. "You proposed to me because I looked like my mother?"

Shimizu looks down in shame, hands wringing in nervousness. "I thought that if I married you, I'd be able to receive that same love again."

You let out a breath of disbelief. While the topic of your mother wasn't something you detested talking about, her memory still was something you were quite hesitant to approach. You remember her sickly figure, her weak smile, the day your father broke. It was as if you threaded lightly along the edges of her carved path, wanting to preserve what was left of her image.

You take a step back, eyes looking at him in disbelief. Shimizu falters in his stance.

"I'm sorry, this isn't going to work." You softly mutter, shaking your head. Just as you take another step back, Shimizu panics and tries to grab your hand.

"Y/N, let me explain I—"

A swift change of air alerts you of a new presence and suddenly you feel deja vu. You turn your head to meet the familiar stance of a man you didn't expect to see again.

"I believe she said no." Mizu's voice is authoritative and deep, hand encasing Shimizu's wrist. The man furrows his eyebrows at Mizu who squints back a glare.

"Who are you?! Your jurisdiction?" Shimizu demands. He tries to pull his wrist away only to be met by a steel force. Mizu scoffs.

"I won't let you go until you promise to stay 10 meters away from her." Mizu threatens. Shimizu sweat drops, eyes glancing down at the hand gripping his wrist to the eyes shielded by tinted glasses. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two, afraid that a fight might brawl out and you're not in the mood to see blood spilled.

Shimizu was also a general and if word comes out that one of the Emperor's trusted military aides got injured by someone lower of his stature, your father will definitely pay for the consequences. You rush towards them and grab Mizu's hand to break them apart.

"Let him go," You say. Mizu turns to you with furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes soften, and you nod softly in reassurance. "Let him go, its okay.

Mizu hesitantly lets the man go and Shimizu stumbles back, holding his wrist. Mizu turns to you in concern, hand grabbing your arm as he examines you. "Are you alright?"

You nod, flustered by his attention. "I'm fine."

Feeling Shimizu's stare on you, you look back at the man to see hurt and a realization spread across his face. Your gaze falters.

He clears his throat and fixes his stance. "Apologies, Y/N. It seems that I have miscalculated my approaches. Forgive me for my behavior."

"It's alright, my lord," You respond. Mizu stands menacingly beside you, eyes trained on his figure. Shimizu glances at him and then at you. He smiles.

"It was nice being your friend," He says. He bows as respect. You curtsy back, albeit shaky. "I'll leave as requested. I wish you luck."

He leaves without turning back. You watch as he gets lost in the crowd, the breeze gently swinging your clothes back and forth. The lanterns dazzle the streets—performing a pretense of joy. You take a breath before finally facing the last of your problems.

Mizu stands there, eyes already looking at you with an unreadable look on his face. Your eyes soften.

"What are you doing here?" You mumble, lacking the energy to even be angry. Mizu shifts in his stance.

"I came back." He answers vaguely.

"For what?"

There a pause of silence before he moves to remove his Kasa. You can see his face clearly now, albeit those beautiful eyes of his still covered by his glasses.

"For you." He says. He gulps as if nervous and your eyes widen at his confession.

"But I thought you said—"

"I was a coward," He says. He heaves a breath. "I have loved before and shown them everything and yet I have ruined them. I was afraid that I might—that I might ruin you with what I am."

You fall silent at his words. You were confused, you had already seen what others claim to be the worst of him—in fact, that was what you loved most about his features. Eyes that seem to hold the waters—a depiction of nature. Just as he is about to continue, cheers erupt from the central town, you flinch as the others begin to gather to watch the amusement happening. Mizu, sensing your uneasiness, pulls you towards a nearby alley—dark and hidden from the public eye. He places you against the wall, eyes watching for passersby that might lurk in while your eyes are trained on his face.

You watch with admiration as his eyebrows furrow in their usual curl, those eyes that squint into a glare, chapped lips, and the glasses that begin to slowly fall down the bridge of his nose. Unable to resist the urge, you give in.

"Coast is—"

Mizu's eyes widen at the feeling of your lips against his. You cup his cheeks, pulling him down as you encase your arms over his neck. Mizu wastes no time in reciprocating the kiss. He kisses back with the same fervor, hand dropping his Kasa in favor of encasing your waist as he pulls you towards his figure. You whine as you feel his tongue intertwine with yours.

After a few pecks and kisses, you both finally pull away. There's a hushed silence of panting as Mizu places his forehead against yours.

"I am not being truthful," Mizu whispers, breath hitting your lips. "But I want to try. With you."

You smile, hands cupping his cheeks as you rub your thumbs across the surface of his skin.

"I want you as you are," You reassure him. "No matter the flaw, no matter what you tell me. I'll be here with you."

Mizu lowers his head and drops it to burrow against your neck. He hugs you close as bells and instruments begin playing. He pulls back softly before facing you with vulnerability.

"I..." He starts off. "I am not what you think I am."

You tilt your head in confusion as you encase his hands in yours. Your thumbs run over the scar that you've bandaged from before.

"I'm not a... a man." Mizu finally reveals. You pause, eyes blinking as you watch his reaction for any sort of context. Mizu purses his lips before pulling his glasses away, tucking in the side of his clothing before reaching up to pull at his top knot. You watch as his hair—no, her hair flows to her shoulders and then suddenly everything makes sense.

Mizu's breath shakes at your silence. "I-I cannot give you what you want—"

She falls silent as you lean forward to take notice of her features. The flush that adorns her cheeks and the eyes that entranced you from the start. A smile bursts from your lips.

"You're just as I dreamed of," You whisper in awe. Your arms make their way to wrap around her neck as you press yourself close to her. Mizu's face flushes at your words.

Your eyes trace the edges of her features, face contorted in a soft expression. There's a moment of silence before you finally continue. "My father wanted me to have a true love marriage. All my life, the idea of falling in love has always been my dream as a child."

Mizu blinks softly at your words, listening to your every thought.

"And now that I have it, I can understand why my father wanted me to do so," You smile, leaning your forehead against hers. "Marry me, Mizu. I just want to be yours."

The blue-eyed girl erupts into a smile, leaning forward and capturing your lips in hers. You reciprocate with the same intensity, fingers burying in her raven locks. Mizu then pulls away.

"I'll always say yes to you."

"Do we really have to do this?"

Mizu eyes your figure seated on the tatami, eyes peering up at her as she stands in front of you. You giggle at her hesitance.

"Of course!" You grin. "Consummation between man and wife is a must tradition after marriage—well in our case, wife and wife."

Mizu rolls her eyes as she sits down in front of you. She props her knee up and places her arm on top of it. She grabs the cup of tea perched on the small table beside her and takes a sip. "Consummation is done with the idea of children, love. I'm sure you're well aware of that."

You pout before an idea arises in your mind. You lean forward, going on your knees as you crawl towards her. Mizu pauses mid-sip as she watches you with careful eyes. You grab her cup, placing it down on the table as she continues to watch your every move. You settle on her lap, the slit of your kimono revealing your thighs. Mizu's breath shakes.

You take her glasses off and place them on the table before finally focusing on her, arms propped on her shoulders. You feel her hands cup your hips as you stare down at her with a smile.

"What?" You taunt. "You don't wanna fuck me?"

Mizu pauses, eyes widening before she lets out a groan and lowers her head to your clavicle. You giggle as she takes a few moments to calm herself down. Finally, pulling away to face you, Mizu looks at you with her blue eyes clouded with lust.

"You are one dangerous lady, know that?" Mizu leans forward. You grin as you rub your nose against hers.

"Mhm," You say. "My wife told me so."

"Ah fuck! Fuck!" You whimper as you grab the sheets behind you, trying to find some sort of stability from the onslaught of ministrations Mizu's giving you. "W-Wait—Mizu-Wai—Ngh!"

You're afraid that the toy one of your close friends gave you as a congratulations gift to your marriage would be too crass for your night with Mizu. You only brought it to tease her after all. You just didn't expect how much she'd be turned on by it.

"Where are you going?" Mizu's voice is deep and taunting as she watches you claw at the sheets, trying to get away from the intense pleasure. She grabs your waist and pulls you back down towards her, folding your legs to your chest. "You wanted this, why are you backing out, hm? You wanted to consummate so here we are."

She watches as the thick girth and length of her strap pushes in and out—coated with your essence. The noises from it are slick and noisy, causing you to flush in embarrassment. God fucking damn.

"So fucking pretty, aren't ya?" Mizu chuckles as she pushes her hips. She lets out a moan, feeling the other end of the dildo pushing deep with her. You whimper as Mizu presses deep, the tip of her cock bumping against that spot of yours. "So so pretty for me, aren't you momma?"

You shiver at the nickname, hands coming down to grab Mizu's lean arms—its muscle flexing as she speeds up her thrusts, making sure that it's the right spot.

"You've been adamant about this all morning. Especially, after the wedding." Mizu growls, slamming her hips against yours. "You want my kids that bad?"

You're too lost in the pleasure, moans, and garbles of her name only coming out of your mouth. Mizu smiles, hair falling down her shoulders and framing her face as she props herself up on top of you.

"If you want it so bad, I'll give it to you," Mizu leans down to bury her face on your neck, sucking a few marks as she begins to speed up her thrusts.

"Oh! Oh!" You whine as the spot inside of you becomes more sensitive with each bump. Mizu pays no mind to your sounds, reveling in the way your nails rake through her back. She smirks against your skin, licking down until she encases your nipple within her mouth. You moan at the feeling, hands reach up to bury itself in her raven locks.

"I'm close! I-I—please!" You plead as her constant torture of your cunt begins to teeter at the edge. Mizu pants heavily as she places a soft kiss behind your ear.

"I am too." Her breath shakes as her hips falter. It doesn't take long before you climax, body arching and shivering from the intensity of the pleasure. Tears begin streaming down your face as you twitch with each thrust she gives you. She smiles placing a soft kiss on your lips. "Good girl."

Mizu follows shortly behind, coming in grunts and low moans before slumping down against you. There's a moment of reprieve before Mizu props herself up once more to take a look at your afterglow.

You smile up at her, hand coming up to brush her hair over her ear. Mizu leans against your touch.

"I love you." You mumble softly. Mizu gazes into your eyes with a love so true that it warms your very being.

"I love you too."

a/n: mwehheheheheeh hope yall enjoyed that <3 not proofread will do it later mwehe

#arthenaa #mizu #the blue eyed samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu smut #Spotify

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bandgie · 5 months

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Reactions To You Pissing During Sex

OT8!SKZ x fem!reader

a/n: this ask got me thinking tbh I can't stop myself.

warnings: MDNI 18+, pissing obvi, crying, some degrading

BANGCHAN! - truthfully he's just too good at fucking you. knows where all your good spots are and hits them with precision. he's gripping you by the waist and bringing you down on his cock. breasts bouncing and your hands clutching onto his wrists. - that warm, beautiful feeling builds, but it feels too intense, a little too familiar in your bladder. panic hits you but it's so hard to talk when all you can is moan and squeal. all you do is shake your head back and forth as a signal, but channie is so used to you doing that when he's in your pussy just right that he pays no mind to it - when you pee, he thinks you're squirting at first. then he sees the consistency, the color, the everything. he pulls out real quick, thinking he's hurt you or its uncomfortable for you. which in fact, is completely wrong! it feels so good to pee mid orgasm, overwhelming actually - the realization gets to you that you literally pissed on your lover, and with the high emotions, you can't stop yourself from crying. soft sobs and apologies tumble from your swollen lips, which makes Chan panic. he's soothing you immediately, telling you it's okay and that it's not a big deal. your tears nearly make him cry, he's such a softie!

"No baby don't cry! It's okay, I promise it's okay, im not mad! We can always take a shower yeah?"

MINHO - has you doggy style, hand reaching around to rub on your clit. his chest is completely on your back, the pressure of everything just feels so good. you're able to warn him, telling Minho that you think you're gonna piss. - thinks you're joking, laughs and slaps your puffy pussy. you keep repeating yourself over and over until it finally happens. hot liquid splashing on his fingers. - he flips you over immediately, looking at your hazy eyes and twitching limbs. you're still peeing as your lay flat on your back, and he's looking at you slightly aroused and slightly shocked -minho is very observant, and he watches your expressions to judge whether or not you're able to continue. you have such a fucked out face, your teeth biting on your lower lips as you look up at him shyly and embarrassed. - he laughs breathlessly, surprised by yours and his excitement about the whole thing. thrusts his cock in you a few times to see how you react. your legs immediately wrap around your waist to bring him closer, and your arch your back for him to hit your favorite spot.

"pissing yourself? how old are you again?"

CHANGBIN - oh he doesn't even notice. all he knows is that your pussy is his favorite and he's drowning in it. when he feels that warm splash on his tummy, he pays no mind to it. just adds to the wetness between your thighs - you're repeating his name over and over, but changbin's sooooo lost he just repeats yours the same way. - it's not until you have to reach up and grip his stomach, pulling to get his attention. thheennn he opens his eyes, and registers your wrecked state. soaked and writhing in pleasure. changbin coos and rubs your thighs, gripping the plushness. - he's so stuck on his headspace, that just mindlessly plays with all your slick on your clit and his stomach. changbin didn't hear you say any safe word, so he takes the green light to keep going. doesn't care if you pee more or not. he just adores those pretty little sounds you make. it's not until you're both laying on the bed, coming down from your highs and back down to earth that he finally realizes you wet yourself

"you peed!?! did you like it? I liked it, can you do that again next time?"

HYUNJIN - he loves everything about you, worships you even. you pee during sex? okay and? is he supposed to care? - ofc he would stop if it bothers you that much, but it's perfectly safe to say he doesn't find it gross in the slightest. it just means he's making you feel so good that you couldn't tell the difference. and he basks in the warmth of your piss, he weirdly finds it intimate - makes you feel better with plush kisses and hushed whispers. telling you that it feels nice and he loves all of you. makes you gush with cum this time, ugh he's such a sweetheart - I feel like he would get cocky about it too during sex. like wow he's that good? he lasts extra long when you pee, just watching your cunt flood with piss onto his stomach is a beautiful sight - kinda opens a door for him. doesn't take long before he's asking to pee on you. both of you are covered in absolute filth at the end, and a shower is much needed

"oh you're such a pretty angel for me. just got a little excited huh?"

HAN - hot. like Hyunjin, hannie just loves you down to the atoms. but peeing? oh he's in love - riding him while his hands play with your tits. your hands are splayed over his tiny waist when you feel the impending orgasm, with a little something else. you don't tell him though, you have a feeling he'd rather find it as a pleasant surprise - imagine his needy expression when he sees you pee all over his stomach. he moans at the sight and bucks his hips up into you. he can feel the liquid travel down his stomach onto the sheets, filling his bellybutton - oh he's beggingggg. for cum? for more piss? for you? who knows. but he's just saying please please please with little uh uh uh's and he's squeezing your breasts soooo hard, he's gonna leave little finger marks - cums real quick after that, but you just keep riding him. there's little splash noises and your knees are soaked from the piss stained covers, but he just looks so fucked out and in pure bliss

"Baby, baby oh fuck yes. More! Make me dirty."

FELIX - doesn't say anything about it, just keeps fucking you. he's not sure if it would embarrass you or anything, so he just waits for you to say something first - but he does really like how it looks. your moans are higher and you can't stop shaking. he swears your pussy is softer, wetter. he gets more vocal too, pushing your thighs up to your chest to fully expose your wet clit to him - ugh watching it squirt out of you onto his pelvis? oh he likes that a lot. rubs your sensitive nub to try and squeeze more out of you. smiles mischievously when you squeal and thrash, as if in warning - felix didn't know he could be this nasty, he enjoys that you're marking your territory in the most animalistically way possible. makes his eyes roll back, deep moans when he finishes inside you

"Fuck, you're so wet. Wanna taste you so bad."

SEUNGMIN - oh he's mean. asshole. you're squirming away from his brutal thrusts, pleading with him. oh but he wants you to. wants to see how mortified you get when you piss all over yourself. gives him a huge power trip - he'll go harder, pin your hands above your head so you can't cover yourself. laughs manically when you finally let go. his beautiful smile twists evilly when you softly sob. he'll hold both your wrists in one hand and use the other to grip your face, forcing you to look up at him - man he just loves that humiliating look on your features. the tears in your eyes, the quivering in your lips. makes your lips pucker open so he could spit in your mouth. if you wanna be nasty, seungmin is sure to leave you filthy - your cries turn into choked moans when he starts fucking into you again. it's too much, emotionally and physically, but you love being a good girl for him. he always makes sure to make it up to you afterwards anyway

"Did you really pee on yourself? You really are just a dumb puppy."

JEONGIN - it's really his fault, you wouldn't have peed if it weren't for his actions. he read on the internet that if you press down on your partner's stomach while you fuck them, it makes their orgasms much more extreme. - yes, but at a cost. your release feels beyond amazing, seeing stars in the midst of it. you dont even recognize yourself going pee because everything just feel so good. head thrown back, back arched, eyes rolled, god you're cumming hard - he's in shock. the article didn't mention anything about this. his thrusts slow, but he was soooo close to his own release that he can't fully stop. plus you seem to having a rather fun time, it would be a terrible idea to pull out - you're clenching on his cock repeatedly, pussy fluttering around his cock from your intense orgasm. your cream mixed with piss is surprisingly a good combination to i.n. - everything just sounds so wet, but you hardly have the mind to care. just that pleasurable thrusting in your walls that hit your deepest part numb your senses. are you cumming again? are you pissing? squirting? doesn't matter, you just don't want him to stop - it's after you're both clean and snuggled that i.n shyly tells you of your accident.

"Your pussy felt so good like that. Is it weird that I liked it?"

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sxcret-garden · 5 months

Text

Ateez Reaction ღ When you tell them you're horny in public [M]

ღ Ateez all members x gn!reader ღ genre: smut, reaction ღ warnings: mentions of semi-public sex in some parts

Hongjoong:

lil shit pt 1

is just gonna grin at you when you're at an event and you whisper in his ear that you're horny

the way he holds you close when he has his arm around you will immediately become more firm

he will be a tease about it and put more dirty thoughts into your head, either by telling you directly or by texting you paragraphs about what he wants to do to you across the room

observes your reaction closely and it brings him great amusement

until it's finally time that you can leave the event together

at this point both of you are so horny that you're not gonna make it home and you simply end up fucking in the car instead

Seonghwa:

has no idea what to do with the situation for like a solid minute

simply bluescreens because obviously if his s/o is needy he feels the need to please them but since you're in public he can't immediately do that, and that's very inconvenient

eventually figures out that a good next step could be getting you two home as soon as possible

and so he'll do anything to achieve that - even if you're out with friends or at an event he'll find a way for you two to leave early

the second you're home his lips are already on yours, and he can’t keep his hands off you as he's walking you over to the bedroom

Yunho:

you're out with friends as you whisper in his ear that you're horny

gives you that soft endearing laugh that's supposed to console you because he can't do anything about it at this exact moment

feels the need to stay glued to you afterwards, always having his arm around you and giving you small consoling touches (which do nothing to make you any less horny tbh jdhdjdjd)

that's until an opportunity arises for the two of you to sneak off without the others noticing right away

will take you by the hand and drag you off to the nearest bathroom

makes you promise to be quiet and will make it the hardest task ever by giving you the best head until he's sure you're satisfied

Yeosang:

has no idea how to react to you telling him this, but other than Seonghwa, he isn't going to recover anytime soon

he knows it's his duty as a good boyfriend to take care of your needs!! he's just too flustered to figure out how jxhddbhxbd

definitely needs a little push from you

so when you do drag him off somewhere the two of you can be alone for some time, that's when the gears up in his head finally start working again

and he WILL make sure to leave you absolutely satisfied in whatever short time you two have

is gonna give you such good head that you wish you could stay here with him all day

and needless to say, pulling yourself together afterwards is going to be the next challenge you'll face...

San:

the second you tell him that you're kinda horny, he gets horny too

will blush as he gives you a surprised look, but in his mind he's already going through all the different possibilities to get you two to the next best place to fuck

whether that's your actual home, or a public restroom, or a storage room, or wherever - he doesn't care

he knows you need him and that makes him need you too, but at the same time he knows just how inconvenient this situation is

keeps the perfect balance between consoling you and telling you to have just a bit of patience while figuring out where to take you

once he does find an opportunity, he doesn't waste a single second to take it, and he's gonna have you pinned against a wall and fucking you in no time

Mingi:

this can go one of two ways

he's either too flustered to function and doesn't really know what to do with the information

in that case he will eventually figure that getting you home asap would be favourable, so he'd try to make that happen

OR he eventually recovers and suddenly the idea of dragging you off and fucking in a semi-public space does sound kinda hot to him

needless to say, the thought gets him going as well, and so now you're just both looking for an opportunity to sneak away from the friends you're with

gets you off in a public toilet in a rush and you return the favour

however, this wasn't nearly enough for the two of you, so once you're in the comfort of your own home you can be sure there will be round 2 (or even more)

Wooyoung:

little shit pt 2

has soooo much fun teasing you about it

"Oh really? So what if I do this?" - touches you in inappropriate places without anyone seeing

and he's really good at sneakily making you even more horny without anyone noticing...

has the time of his life as he keeps riling you up with little touches and flirty looks and the occasional kiss right below your ear, disguised as just another innocent gesture between lovers

if you think he'll keep up the torture until you're finally home, you're absolutely right

isn't done with his teasing once you're home, but he'll make sure to make it up to you in ways that'll have you seeing stars in no time

however, he'd of course be just as happy if you turn the situation around on him and tease the shit out of him once you're home until he's literally begging

Jongho:

little shit pt 3

you'll wish you hadn't told him

simply reassures you that it won't be long until you get home once you tell him... only to end it with a sneaky comment meant to keep you on edge

will whisper the most subtle dirty things in your ear at the most unexpected of times throughout the day and have his hands on you more than usual

he knows exactly where the line is, and he'll make damn sure to balance on it as he messes with you

literally keeps his composure until the very end - and you’ll be surprised how quickly that changes once you’re finally alone

won't even let you be mad at him once you are finally home, he's simply gonna shut you up with a kiss and he'll be damn sure to make you think that enduring all his teasing was worth it

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luvrxbunny · 6 months

Text

flower

pairing: bf!Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

summary: You won’t let Miggy play.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, sad feelings, clothed sex, cum in pants (lmk if I forgot anything)

wc: 2.2k

a/n: Gwen is 21 just for drinking purposes— everyone say thank u to @naeverse for giving me an alternative to google translate for the spanish!! ily bby!! 🫶🏾

Miguel is like your best artwork, in your opinion. The way you took the hard seed he was and watered, loved, cared and nurtured him so he could bloom into the flower he was today is one of your greatest achievements.

When you met him he was cold, closed off, and angry. It took months of breaking down his wall before he could even admit his feelings for you, it took even more, to get him to express his feelings for you. It was like luring a stray cat, slowly getting him closer, and more comfortable with you before pushing your physical feelings onto him. You coaxed him out of his cave of isolation, of touch deprivation, and showed him how it felt to have someone love on him.

You were so proud when he started coming to you for simple little things, like a kiss or a hug. You’d be working and he’d stride in, tall and confident just to ask you, shyly, for a kiss. For a long time you explained to him that he didn’t always need to ask you, you were okay with him just coming in and kissing you. You also had to explain to him that he’s allowed to ask for more than a hug or kiss, he was very resistant on that matter but you managed to break him.

One day he woke up in the middle of the night, you were asleep next to him and he needed you. He laid there for an hour, debating on whether he should wake you up or not. When he did wake you up, you couldn’t have been prouder. You made sure to let him know that as you rode him.

At first, he wouldn’t even hold your hand or hug you in public. He got comfortable with PDA much quicker than the others, it only took him a few weeks. He plunged himself into it head first.

He went from barely touching you to being all over you. He started sitting you in his lap, resting his arms over your hips while standing behind you, or laying his head on your stomach whenever you guys were chilling in the lounge.

He even got into the habit of running his fingers over your tummy, going under your shirt or dissipating your suit just to feel you. Or he’ll just grope you through your suit, it doesn’t alway seem sexual for him… more like he enjoys the closeness, the intimacy of touching you, holding you in places no one else can. For example; your boobs, your ass, and his most recent, most consistent obsession… your pussy.. just cupping, your clothed pussy.

He says it’s calming for him, most of the time he does it absently. The goal isn't to make you cum, or prep your for his cock. He just loves touching you. It made you unbelievably happy to see him like that, your secretly sweet boy, loving all over you, not caring who’s around. It was one of the best things to ever happen to you.

Which is what makes this current conversation so awkward.

Hobie is rambling on and on about how disgusting PDA is. Miguel isn't around, thank god. He went to get a drink and never came back. Hobie has been ranting about how inconsiderate, and inappropriate PDA is as you awkwardly sip on your drink, feeling oddly targeted. Jess and Gwen agree with him, saying that it’s not that serious but definitely annoying. You’re just wishing for them all to just stop before Miguel returns, terrified that he’ll retreat back into his shell. That you’ll loose your sweet flower.

“ ‘M jus sayin’ it’s not like they can’t wait ‘til they get ‘ome. I jus feel like… come off it, y’know? Like you’re in public, right? Jus... keep it in your pants.” You down your drink and decide to finally butt into the conversation.

“Hobie. I love you but you’re the same guy who doesn’t believe in consistency.” You earn a little chuckle from the table. “Get in a loving, serious, consistent relationship, and tell me you’ll never want to be affectionate outside your house.” The words spit from your mouth with more venom than intended but you stand your ground.

“Aye, I guess. But like, some people don’t know when to dial it back.” He laughs with Gwen as you get up to leave. Jess is sending you an apologetic look that you smile at briefly before turning to walk away. You’re stopped by a.. wall?

You open your eyes to see what you ran into and see Miguel smiling down at you. “Where are you going?” You smile back at him, genuinely, and tell him a half-truth. “I was looking for you! Where have you been?”

Miguel looks a little drunk, his face flushed, and his eyes hazy. You guys have been drinking but it usually takes more. He shrugs and sits in your seat, patting his leg for you to sit in his lap.

You start toward him but then Hobie’s words play in your head and you shake your head softly at him. He looks confused but nods at you and falls into the conversation, now talking about the latest mission.

You’re standing there considering Hobie’s words. If you imagine how you and Miguel act from an outsider's perspective… you can see why they’d find it annoying. Anxiety curls and makes a home in your chest as you flip through all your favorite memories of you and Miguel, all of them now tainted. You head over to the bar silently, needing another drink when you feel someone behind you.

You feel pressure on the top of your head and know it's Miguel, placing a kiss on your head, another recent habit of his. You do nothing, ignore it as he wraps his arms around your waist and leans into you. “Oh, Peter B. says Hello. He was here earlier for a bit. That’s what took me so long. He made me drink with him too. Puede que haya bebido mucho.”

(“I may have had too much to drink”)

A smile makes its way onto your face as you listen to him, his accent thicker with his intoxication. He’s leaning on you, not for support but just to feel you against him. You guys stand there in comfortable silence until you feel Miguel’s hand begin to slide from your hip to your pelvis, it slides underneath the band of your skirt and you stop him. “Not now, Miggy. Sorry.” Your drink arrives, you pay, and leave. Miguel follows behind you, slightly deflated by your rejection. Your mind is still on Hobie’s words.

Are we “too much”? Do we take it “too far”..? Maybe we should just dial it back a little...

You guys arrive back at the table and Miguel tries again. His hands come to your waist and quickly slide down, trying to get under your skirt. You don’t say anything, you keep talking to Gwen as you pull his hand out.

The night goes well from that point. Miguel makes more advances that are gently rejected or avoided by you. You all gradually get drunk as the night goes on, Miguel drinks a bit more than he usually would and recluses himself to a table next to where you guys are sitting. Jess leaves first, Gwen and Hobie following her not too long after.

You and Miguel decide to leave and Uber home in silence. He usually talks more after hanging out in a group, saying everything he thought but couldn't say, giving his rating on the interaction, and more. This time, however, he’s silent, looking out his window with furrowed brows the whole ride. The silence only breaks once you both are in the apartment and you speak up.

“Why are you so quiet tonight?” You’re staring at his back as he stands in the living room. He doesn’t answer you at first, he just stands there before sighing and turning around.

“Why won’t you let me play with you?” His voice is weaker than you’ve ever heard it, his eyes look sad and desperate and his hands are wringing each other. You’ve never seen him like this, nervous and unsure. It breaks your heart.

You rush over to him and wrap him in a hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you wanted to that bad, baby.” You let him go and kiss his cheek. “I—“ You sigh defeatedly. “Hobie got in my head about PDA. I don’t know why I listen to him.” Miguel lets out a sigh of relief at your words, some of the tension leaving his body.

“That idiot? Yeah, no. Don’t listen to him, amor.” You smile at him and he kisses you softly. When you pull away he still has that nervous look in his eyes. “Do you wanna play with me now?” you ask gently. He nods so timidly that you regret ever rejecting him. You kiss him with a smile as he walks you backward, only stopping once your back hits the wall.

His breath is already speeding up, his chest heaving as his hand slowly slides up your skirt. The moment his fingers come in contact with your clothed pussy he groans out, louder than you. You’re shocked by his reaction as he keeps rubbing your clit, gasping, and moaning with you as if he was touching himself.

His mouth is open as moans tumble through his lips. He’s not looking at you, just watching his fingers move on your pussy. His eyebrows draw more inward the faster he moves his fingers, his moans turning into whines the faster he goes.

At some point, his fingers roll over your clit more perfectly than you can handle and your hips buck into his hands. His knees almost buckle at the sight as he lets out a deep, rumbling groan.

“Santa mierda.” His eyes roll back as he feels your wetness soak through your panties and dampen his fingers. He’s desperately hard in his pants and his hips are thrusting up into the air in time with his movements over your pussy. “Echaba mucho de menos esto, cariño”

(“Holy shit.”)

( “I missed this so much honey”)

You giggle at his apology. He tends to do this a lot when you have him extra worked up. He always feels bad because he knows you can't understand him but the truth is that when he gets you like this… Whining, moaning, and pressing into him.

He cannot function.

He can’t think about anything but breeding you, getting his fat cock into your soft pussy, and painting your cervix. He’s not worried about what language it happens in. His brain can’t focus on things like that, he’s tried.

Your hips thrust up into his hand as you grip his biceps, your nails digging in painfully, making him moan even louder. His fingers move against you perfectly, the Spanish falling from his lips pulls you closer and closer to your orgasm. Your legs start to twitch and tense, your knees weakening as the burning in your stomach grows. Your hands come up around Miguel’s neck to pull him closer to you.

“You’re making me feel so good, Miggy. Fuck- I love you so much, baby.” He lifts you off your feet, pressing you up against the wall and lifting your legs over his waist. He takes a step forward and buries himself in your neck, his hips come forward, pressing his bulge against your mound with a groan. “Yeah, good. Good, Miggy- shi-it.” You feel his fangs slide out of his mouth and press into your skin as he whimpers. “Holy- Miguel, I- fuck, like that baby please.”

His whines turn to groans as he thrusts against you like he was actually fucking you. His hips swivel into yours, stuttering as he listens to your moans. “N-nena, estoy tan cerca. Maldita sea, te sientes tan jodidamente bien, mi amor. Siento que no puedo respirar. Mierda, te sientes increíble.”

(“B-baby, I'm so close. Damn, you feel so fucking good, my love. I feel like I can't breathe. Shit, you feel amazing.”)

You moan louder at his words, the way they roll off of his tongue. You can’t even describe how you feel when he speaks, especially in Spanish. It feels like his words vibrate through your ears, to your stomach, and settle in your core, winding you up as tightly as you can go. “Yeah? Oh, I’m gonna c-cum. Fuck- talk to me, Miggy. T-tell me how it feels, honey.”

Miguel can feel his eyes roll back into his head at your words. You know he can’t speak English right now, and he knows you love it anyway, the thought has him hurtling toward his orgasm. “Te sientes tan perfecta, nena. Voy a correrme tan fuerte por ti. ¿Lo quieres? ¿Quieres que te dé mi leche, miel? Te lo daré, todo por ti, nena. Mierda.”

(“You feel so perfect, baby. I'm gonna cum so hard for you. Do you want it? Do you want me to give you my milk honey? I'll give it to you, all for you, baby. Shit.")

Your legs crush his waist as you cum, trembling in his arms as his hips keep fucking against you, his moans growing in volume. You bring your hands up to dive into his hair, pulling at it, gripping it as he growls into your neck. He’s trying to hold off until you’re done, he wants to keep going, he wants to make you cum for so long that you can’t breathe but the way you’re grasping his brown locks makes it impossible. His muscles tense, his hands squeezing you into a bruising hold as his groans devolve back into whines, his body shaking as his cock explodes.

He cums so hard he thinks he blacks out for a moment. His cock pumps out rope after rope of his cum into his pants, he wishes it was inside you for a moment and he’s cumming harder at the thought. His hips continue to buck into you desperately as he moans out your name. You feel one of his hands leave your waist and rest on your cheek shakily, pushing your head in his direction and placing a kiss on your cheek. He grunts as he bucks against you one more time before putting you down.

You knees give out the moment you touch the ground and Miguel holds you up with a chuckle. “¿Qué? ¿No puedes soportarlo, cariño? ¿Tus piernas ya no funcionan?” He teases you as he carries you to the bedroom, your head rests on his chest, feeling the vibrations as he speaks.

(“What? You can't stand, honey? Your legs don't work anymore?”)

“You better hush up before I fuck you.” You spit back at him jokingly but you feel his pace falter at the threat.

“Uh, Qué... ¿Cuál es el dicho? Don’t threaten me with a good time?” He says in a teasing tone but his eyes are already clouding over again, desperate.

(“what... what's the saying?”)

thank you so much for reading!! please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all! also if you liked it please take a look at my masterlist!

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raphaelsrightarm · 7 months

Note

For bayverse turtles head cannons could you do their kinks, like top 3 or top 5 kinks please if you’re comfortable with that? Also love you and your work! 🥰🥰🥰

Long time no see haha I appreciate your patience with me for all this time but here are some of my ideas for them...

I kept most of these gender neutral but there are a few that are gendered a bit more for a female s/o

Warnings: NSFW 18+ ONLY

Leo:

Voyeurism- consensually of course - Leo loves watching you touch yourself, plain and simple. Especially when the two of you first started being intimate. It showed him all the ways you like to be touched, showed him what feels the best to you. The further the two of you go into your relationship, it turns more into him simply loving the way pleasure looks on you. It doesn’t matter if you use your hands or a toy, he loves watching you get yourself ready for him.

Tantric Sex - He loves intimacy, and he sees sex as a way of really feeling close to you. And yeah sometimes he needs the relief that a good fuck can give, there are nights when he just wants to feel you. To have you wrapped around him, arms looped around his neck to pull him closer telling him of your adoration for him and him telling you the same. The journey for him can be as satisfying as the destination.

Edging - This can go both ways for him, he loves both bringing you to brink before denying you, only to continue building you up before he finally makes you cum. But he also loves to do the same to himself, mostly by pleasing you. Whether it’s with his hand or mouth, you’ll notice him slowly stroke himself, never fully giving into his own pleasure until he absolutely can’t take it anymore. He loves to make that high even more intense when he finally chases it.

Bondage - This guy loves control. He also loves this because it shows how much trust you put in him. He sees it as its own unique form of intimacy, to allow him to tie your wrists above your head and to know that he wouldn’t do anything but please you. Afterwards, he always feels closer to you knowing how deep the trust runs between the two of you.

Heels - I’ve always thought he is a fan of legs. Doesn’t matter how thick or thin, short or long, he loves legs. Which is part of the reason he loves to see you in heels so much. They just bring out your legs in a way that drives this poor guy insane. He also secretly loves the sound of heels against the floor

Raph:

Biting/Giving Hickies - He is obsessed with seeing anything on you that marks you as his. He may not be able to be beside you at all times to keep others away, but a nice hickey on the side of your neck would work just fine. He's possessive

Spanking - Because he is an ass man, expect him to be touching the butt, a lot. He loves watching it jiggle after he smacks it and to feel how soft you are under his hands. He may also spank the kitty, if you're down with that of course…

Degradation - This will only happen to the extent that you allow it. Though he would never make fun of your body or anything like that. He loves to call you 'his whore' while he's fucking you so good the only thing you can do is agree (there are also times when he would ask for you to say it yourself).

Thigh-fucking - I'm not gonna lie, this man has an obsession with thick thighs. I'm talking cellulite and stretch marks. He loves all of it. This would be used mostly when the two of you start having sex, because let's be real this guy is PACKING so it'll be best to take things slow. He'll lift your legs up to his shoulders, and you'll cross your ankles together and just watch him get off, bonus points if you tell him how sexy he looks while he does it.

Facials - This one can go along with his obsession with giving you hickies, though this one obvisouly is much more private. He just loves the visual of it all, ya know? Staking his claim, basically. He's a possessive guy, and he tries to tone it down outside the bedroom, but he allows it to come through HEAVILY behind closed doors, and this is one of his favorite ways, by having you on your knees in front of him, his cum traced across your mouth ........

Donnie:

Sex Toys - This can span all the way from vibrators to restraints even, when he has the time to go all out with you he will absoluately take advantage of that if you're down. One of his favorites is to use a vibrator on your clit while he fucks you slow, so slow that it drives you isane, but believe that he'll have you taken care of multiple times before the night is over

Overstimulation - So this can go hand in hand with the passage above, he wants to see how much you can take, and all four of them were blessed with a high sex drive, he can go as many times as you need him to honestly. He loves the nights that leave you in a trembling mess underneath him, your nails digging into his skin with tightly you're holding onto him. It also secretly brings a swelling pride to his chest to know that he's capable of bringing you there

Phone Sex/Nudes - Let's be real this guy gets busy; there are times where he can't see you in person but trust that he won't let that complicate things too much; he loves to hear you say the filthy things you want him to do next time he's with you as he strokes himself, legs spread wide. If you were also comfortable with sending him pictures he would be ALL over that; even has a seperate folder for them that is heavily locked down

Thigh riding - Imagine sitting on his lap in his desk chair, kissing him as his hands roam up and down your body before they land on your hips, guiding them back and forth but not allowing you to go any faster than he wants you to, all the while he's whispering all the things he wants to do to you while you whimper into his ear, pressure building up higher and higher; yeah, he's a fan of this one

Choking - He'll usually only do this when his focus is completely on you, one hand between your legs while the other is squeezing the sides of your throat. Breath play can intensify an orgasm, and he loves watching it race through you even stronger. There are even times when he's alone that he'll do this for himself but you don't find that out unitl later

Mikey:

Praise - This can go either way for him, honestly. He loves to praise you but loves even more to be praised himself. He needs to know how good he's making you feel, and for you to vocalize that to him would only make him want to go even harder. Complimenting his body especially would drive him insane.

Begging - OOOO boy, this one kills him. He loves hearing you ask for what you want, it helps him feel much more confident in whatever it is the two of you do knowing just how badly you need it; also to hear the person he loves beg him to touch them, kiss them, fuck them, it drives him absolutely inSANE

Massages - His love language is touch, so being able to run his hands over your skin is quite possibly his favorite thing to do anyways, but having you laid out before him, whining the longe rhe goes on, though the both of you know he won't be able to deny you for long...

Face-Sitting - This one I feel a bit self explanatory, this guy is a munch, any possible way you let him eat you out he's going to go for it

Semi-public - A secret part of him loves watching you try to stay quiet even when your on the brink of your orgasm. He also enjoys the risk that's involved with possibly getting caught in the act especially when your legs are on his shoulders and all you can do is whisper broken up words begging him to go harder ahdkashdkjaskdfskj

#tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #bayversetmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt headcanon #tmnt smut

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sluttywoozi · 2 months

Text

Somewhere In The Middle | ljh x f!reader

Somewhere in the middle, I think I lied a little I said if we took it there I wasn't gonna change, But that went out the window

You and Jihoon started as roommates and naturally became best friends. After a breakup and a little too much wine, you become best friends who kiss, but there's no danger there... right?

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~9.7k | Pairing: ljh x f!reader

Genre: romance, smut, best friends/idiots to fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mention of a breakup, alcohol use, besties to besties with benies to lovers, jealous/possessive jihoon, depiction of a nightmare (lots of water involved but no drowning), appetite issues/food eating, hurt/comfort

Smut Warnings: dom!jihoon, dirty talk, manhandling, strength kink, dumbification, breast/nipple play, oral r. rec., fingerfucking, biting, multiple orgasms, piv sex, creampie, pet names (princess, good girl), allusions to f. masturbation, reader goes into subspace a lil

Reader Notes: sub, taller than Jihoon, has breasts and a vagina, gets carried by jihoon, on some form of birth control, crybaby, she’s smart i swear being around jihoon just makes her dumb

You and Jihoon have been roommates for three years and best friends for two and a half when It happens.

It’s nearing midnight and most of the lights are off, the glare of the TV illuminating the room though it’s been muted for the past hour. You’re drunk on the couch and for once, Jihoon is drunk with you, helping you lament the shitty boyfriend you finally ditched.

Well, the shitty boyfriend who ditched you.

It stings that he was the one to end things, prickles to admit that maybe you had some hand in the crashing and burning of the relationship, but you still feel valid enough in his faults to complain to Jihoon about it on this dreary Friday night.

“We hadn’t even kissed in like… weeks. And sex? I counted myself lucky he didn’t seem interested, he was that disappointing,” you bemoan, dropping your head on his shoulder and hugging his arm to your chest. Jihoon doesn’t love physical contact, but you’ve worn him down and now, you’re the only person he allows free reign.

You think he even likes it at this point, especially when he presses his cheek to your head and sighs, “Men are the worst.”

“You’re a man, Jihoon,” you remind him, tilting your head up to glance at him, dislodging his cheek and making him look down at you.

“Yeah, but I don’t count, do I?” He says sardonically, knocking his forehead against yours.

“I don’t know anymore,” you mumble. “I just miss kissing, and being touched, and-,” you hiccup, though whether it’s due to tears or to drink, you don’t know. “And I miss someone loving me.”

Your eyes are misty now, Jihoon’s face blurry even though it’s inches from yours.

“You know I love you, right?” He asks softly, and you try to smile through the tears, appreciative of him for attempting to make you feel better.

“Yeah, but not like that,” you remind him, your eyes fluttering shut and your lips pouting.

“But I could kiss you like I do.”

You peek one eye open, blinking away the saltwater in your eyes, not even flinching when he brings a hand up to wipe it away from your cheek.

“You could?”

“I could,” he nods, his brows drawn together and his mouth tight. “I don’t want you to suffer like this when I can fix it.”

You think it through for a split second, consider the fact that Jihoon is your roommate, your best friend, and decide that you don’t care.

“Okay,” you whisper, fragility clear in your voice and in the fingers suddenly clutching at his shirt.

“Just… promise me nothing will change, that we’ll still be us after,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you until his lips are a breath from yours.

“I promise,” you tell him, though in the back of your mind, something whispers that it already has.

Then he kisses you, and your brain goes perfectly silent.

All you can feel is him, his palm on your face, his fingers in your hair, his soft lips sipping at yours like the wine you downed together just an hour ago.

The room is quiet, filled only with your breathing and his, and every sensation is heightened by the peace surrounding you.

His hand tilts your face, changing the angle as he glides his tongue along your bottom lip, and when you gasp, it darts inside, learning, exploring.

Jihoon is lazy, you both know this, but apparently he’s the very opposite when it comes to kissing you because before long, he’s devouring you with vigor, panting into your mouth like he can’t catch his breath, searching like you’ve stolen it.

You’re not faring much better, your grip tight on his shirt and your cheek hot under his hand, forgetting to even breathe as he kisses you stupid. Literally, you feel dumb with it, empty headed, no thoughts occupying your mind except for Jihoon, Jihoon, Jihoon.

You suck in air when he rips his mouth away from yours, his fingers in your hair holding you back so you don’t follow him as his chest rises and falls erratically, a blush creeping up his neck and along his ears.

“You should get to bed,” he whispers, his eyes hooded and his voice rough.

“Yeah, I suppose I should,” you agree, even though you want to kiss him more, want him to take you apart, if you’re being honest. But something tells you not to push him this first night, not to ask for too much.

So you tease him instead, murmuring, “Tuck me in?” only to gape at him when he slides off the couch and takes hold of your hand, tugging you up off the sofa and to your room.

He waits on your bed as you half ass your skincare, handing you pajamas when you ask for them and getting up when you emerge from the bathroom. You climb under the duvet, think for just a second about asking him to join you, and whisper, “Goodnight, Jihoon.”

“Goodnight,” he whispers back, before leaning in close and pressing his lips to yours one last time, mumbling into your mouth, “One for the road.”

After he leaves, you fall into sleep slowly, and when you do, it’s deep, dotted with dreams that taste like him.

True to your word, nothing really changes.

Except for the fact that you just… kiss now.

When you’re tired, when you’re stressed, when you’re sad, when you’re needy.

All it takes is a look and a little pout and Jihoon is shaking his head and pressing his mouth to yours, his hand firm on your cheek and his tongue dancing over your bottom lip. You find yourself craving him when you’re at work or around friends or sometimes in your sleep, your dreams full of flashes of your body under his and his arms around you.

Your kisses haven’t progressed to that yet, though you’re hoping they will soon. He usually keeps them chaste, but there are times you can tell he wants to take it further, by the way he holds your chin and angles your head so he can kiss you deeper, dirtier.

Just two weeks after that night, he’s become a habit you can’t quit.

It’s gotten to the point where he greets you with a smooch when you come home from work, a peck when you finish making dinner together, a soft kiss before you go to sleep in separate rooms.

Most of the time, you wish you could follow him into his bedroom, climb into his bed and his arms and his ribcage, squish right in next to his big, juicy heart. But you promised nothing would change, that you and Jihoon would still be you and Jihoon, and you know that if you delete the spaces between you, it would change everything.

So you content yourself with his kisses, with the little touches you steal as often as you can, with the knowledge that at the end of the day, you do have someone who loves you, even if he doesn’t love you like that.

You’re laying on the couch with Jihoon, your legs resting on top of his thighs and his big hand warm on your ankle, when he asks you if anything interesting happened at work.

Normally, you would have nothing to share, but today, something exciting did happen.

“Oh! Yeah, actually, Jun from Accounting asked me out on a date,” you gush, your legs bouncing until his hand tightens into a near painful grip.

“I didn’t know you were looking to date again,” he says pensively, his eyes suddenly on the TV and away from yours.

“I mean, I’m not really, but he’s cute and sweet and I miss sex,” you sigh wistfully, letting your cheek rest on the back of the couch as you watch his jaw clench and unclench.

“What did I say when I told you I could kiss you like I love you?” He asks, his gaze on you again and so much heavier than before, so much weightier and darker. You can almost feel it like a physical touch, the way it roves over you, assessing.

You try to wrack your brain but come up empty, an unfortunate occurrence when it comes to Jihoon.

“I don’t remember,” you respond honestly, your main memory of that night being the kiss.

“I said, ‘I don’t want you to suffer like this when I can fix it,’” he reminds you, before continuing, “You don’t know if this Jun guy will be any good, and I don’t want him to disappoint you.”

Your breath stalls in your chest at what you think he’s implying, but you need him to clarify before you jump to your own conclusions, fueled by delusion and desire as they might be.

“So… what are you saying?” You ask slowly, pushing down the hope and heat rising within you.

“I’m saying that I’ll take care of you. You miss being touched? You miss being fucked? Let me be the one, not some rando who might not even be able to make you cum.”

Fuck. He’s so- You don’t even know what he is at this point.

You sort of feel the need to leap to Jun’s defense, but by the fire in Jihoon’s eyes, you think that would be the wrong move to make right now. You also don’t know if you can speak, with your tongue tied by lust as it is.

He’s still staring at you, his face unreadable but his hand hot, tight on your ankle, like if you tried to get away, he wouldn’t let you.

That won’t be happening, not when all you want to do is crawl closer, into his lap maybe so you can feel his chest against yours and his heat between your legs, so he can pull you into him and show you just how well he can take care of you.

“Okay,” you breathe out, because you need to respond sooner or later, and that’s the only word you can summon at this moment in time.

“Tell Jun you won’t be going out with him,” Jihoon commands, and you bristle at his domineering tone but you also feel yourself clench, just a little. You acquiesce all the same.

hey Jun! i have to say no to your offer, i just don’t really like to mix business with romance, I’m sorry ☹️

“Done?” He asks, waiting for your nod to swipe your phone out of your hands, put it on Do Not Disturb, and slide it between the couch cushions before yanking you toward him by the grip he has on your ankle.

“Hey!” You exclaim, out of breath and full of indignation. “Don’t be rude.”

“We’ve been best friends for two and a half years, you think I don’t know what you like by now?” He asks rhetorically. “You like getting manhandled, like being talked down to, and then you like being treated like the pretty little princess you are. Am I wrong?”

God, he’s so hot. You hate him.

“No,” you answer petulantly. “You’re not wrong,” you continue when he raises an eyebrow and loosens his touch.

You barely even recognize Jihoon right now, he’s being so cocky and mean and sexy. The smirk he sends you makes you shiver, or maybe it’s the fingers swiftly smoothing up your leg. Curse your little pajama shorts and curse his big, warm hands.

He’s just about to reach your panties when you whisper, “Wait!”

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are sharp on yours, his hand frozen as he evaluates you for misgivings and anxieties.

“Just-,” you sigh and wriggle a little bit in shyness. “Not here, I can get… messy.”

His smirk is back and bigger than ever as he shoves your legs off his lap, stands, and leans down to haul you over his shoulder, making you gasp and cling to him for dear life.

“Jihoon, I’m too-“

“I squat 450, babe, you’re fine,” his palm cracks down on your ass as he speaks, both his words and his touch making you whimper.

You assume he’ll take you to your bed but he takes you to his instead, and when he roughly deposits you on his comforter and pushes your hands to rest above your head, all you can do is stare as he yanks his shirt off and tosses it to the side.

You see him topless often enough, but in this context, it’s different. You actually get to look this time, and you let your eyes travel slowly over every inch of pale skin and muscle, feeling your center start to throb when he palms his growing cock and slides his own little pajama shorts down.

He leaves on his boxer briefs and sets a knee on the bed, slowly climbing over you until he’s got his hands bracketing your head and his knees spreading your thighs. You’re surrounded by him, his scent overpowering in the best way now that you’re in his bed and under his body.

This is exactly where you’ve wanted to be for weeks, but now that you’re here, you find you’re feeling a little nervous. Jihoon, obviously, can read you like a book and asks in a low voice, “Would it help if I told you what I’m going to do?”

“Um, yes,” you answer, because of course it’ll help, in more ways than one. “You already know?”

“I have the makings of a plan. First, I think I’ll kiss you until your head is too empty for nerves. After that, I’ll play with your tits until you’re crying for me. Then, I’ll eat you out until you cum, and fuck you with my fingers until you cum again,” his voice is low, seductive enough that you’re nodding without even realizing it, close to begging before he’s even gotten started.

“And then you’ll fuck me?” You ask weakly, feeling small under him even though you’re taller than him in actuality.

“Maybe. If I feel like you’ve earned it,” he teases, or at least you hope he’s teasing, because if he doesn’t give you his dick tonight, you think you might go crazy.

“I feel better, I think,” you whisper faintly, and you actually do, now that you know how he’s going to take care of you, what he’s going to do to you.

“Good, that’s the goal here.”

He almost smiles, you can see his lips twitching, but he doesn’t let them stretch in a grin. Instead, he slowly lowers his body to lay over yours, dropping to his elbows and letting his legs relax so he’s pressed up against you, weighing you down to the bed. You feel safe, secure like this, and you can’t help but sigh into Jihoon’s mouth when his lips meet yours, a soft, relieved sigh born from knowing you’re in good hands.

Good, large, warm hands, one petting your head and the other cupping your jaw to pull you into his kiss, as if you need any encouragement. He’s gentle until he’s not, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip and his mouth sucking at the sting, his tongue pushing between your lips when they open on a gasp.

You feel more than hear his groan when you shyly glide your tongue against his, the sound rumbling through your mouth and straight down to your core. You’re already throbbing, just from this, and you can’t believe you’ll have to endure his evil, delicious mouth on your tits when he’s finally deemed you brainless enough to move on.

It won’t be long before that happens, you already know, because your thoughts are starting to sift through your fingers like sand, too hazy to pin down and not important enough to try. A voice in the back of your mind whispers this will ruin you, but then he does something with his tongue that makes your breath catch and your pussy clench, and the voice goes silent.

In fact, every racing thought in your mind is gone, eroded by Jihoon’s whirlwind, and you actually whine when he pulls away, your kiss-swollen lips open and attempting to chase him for more. He doesn’t let you, shifting back to sit on his knees and pulling you up with him so he can wrench off your tank top and flimsy bralette.

He lets out a shaky sigh, his eyes caught on the rise and fall of your tits as you try to regulate your breathing, before pushing you back down with a firm hand on your shoulder. He keeps the other on your waist, preventing you from just collapsing back on the bed, and follows you with his body, his gaze heady and his lips parted.

He doesn’t waste any time, immediately leaning down to suck a nipple into his mouth and bringing his fingers up to pluck and squeeze at the other, both of them pebbling under his attention. They’re extra sensitive today for some reason, but that might just be because it’s Jihoon touching them, wrapping his lips around them, warming them with the heat of his mouth and fingers.

Time slips away as he works you over, his tongue plush and soft and fever hot on your tits, his fingers unrelenting, just on the right side of mean as he twists and pinches whichever nipple isn’t in his mouth. He alternates every so often, never leaving a side neglected, and eventually gets into a rhythm that has you whimpering and arching into him, begging him with your body to keep going.

You can’t feel how wet you are with your legs spread by his body like this, but you have to be soaking by now with the way your cunt is fluttering, your walls squeezing down on nothing as he sucks and bites and worries at your breasts with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. You already want him to make you cum so bad, and you distantly remember what he said just a little bit ago.

Until you’re crying for me.

Well, you can certainly do that. The tears are already rising to your eyes, already burning in your throat, making your breath hitch and your chest stutter beneath him. You don’t know when you closed your eyes but they’re bleary when you open them, your lashes lined with saltwater as you look down at him.

He’s looking at you, probably has been this whole time, and when he sees the first tear fall, he pops off your nipple and presses his smirk into your breast, his hand still firm on the other.

“Jihoon, please,” you whisper thickly, and for a moment, you’re scared he’ll make you outline what you’re asking for. He doesn’t, thankfully, just shifts back up on his knees to admire his handiwork. You can only imagine the picture you must make, your chest covered in his teeth marks and your nipples swollen and spit-slick, your eyes half-lidded with desire and need, not a single critical thought behind them.

He visibly collects himself, taking in a deep breath and letting it flow out as he tucks his fingertips in the waistband of your shorts and panties. You don’t have enough brain power to think of lifting your hips to help him so he pulls them up with one hand and wrenches your pajamas down with the other, dropping you back down to the bed when they’ve cleared your ass and he can tug them the rest of the way off.

Your legs have bent in the process, your feet resting on his knees, and he takes hold of your ankles, straightening your legs out before dragging his hands up and setting them on your thighs. You expect him to push them apart, to move you like he has been, but instead he says, “Show me.”

You’re past being shy but you still feel a little vulnerable, so it takes you a few breaths to slowly spread your legs. The air clings to your arousal, cool compared to your heat, and the longer he stares, the faster your heart beats. His hands press to your inner thighs, keeping them apart so he can memorize every inch of you.

“Fuck,” he exhales laboriously. “You weren’t kidding.”

“About what?” You ask tremulously, with not even a bit of a clue as to what he’s talking about.

“About getting messy. You’re so fucking wet, I think I could slide in right now,” he sounds far away, like he’s imagining it, picturing himself sinking his cock into you, filling you up to the brim.

Now you’re picturing it too, and your thighs try to squeeze together to soothe the ache between your legs but he’s still holding them open, and he’s too strong for you to even bother fighting his grip.

“Maybe you should,” you moan enticingly, one hand leaving its place above your head to drift over your body and down to your pussy. It doesn’t get that far, not when he levels a stern, warning look at you, one that makes your clit pulse and your heart race.

Adequately discouraged, you bring your hand back up and lace your fingers together, leaving you spread out and powerless beneath him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t hide the way the words light you up inside, make you want to be even more compliant for him, make you want to be so good you become his best girl.

He smirks at your response, a look in his eye like he’s filing every little reaction away for the future, hope blooming in your chest that maybe there will be a future. You can admit that you don’t want this to be the only time, your first and last with him.

(What you can’t admit yet is that this is already more than sex for you.)

Fuck, your thoughts are coming back, no longer so nebulous and murky, now too solid for you to swim through like before. You know Jihoon can see it in your gaze, and he moves so quickly, you can hardly make sense of it.

Before you can take another breath, he’s on his belly between your legs, your thighs still pushed apart by his hands as he all but dives into your dripping pussy. You don’t know what you expected but it definitely wasn’t this, his tongue pushing inside of you, reaching as far as it can go and licking your walls on its way out, his nose grazing your clit with every jerk of his chin into you. It feels like actual heaven, his tongue so lithe and agile and smooth as it fucks in and out of you, sparks zipping through your veins with every drag of his nose over your clit.

He refocuses his attention, his mouth shifting to suck gently at the bundle of nerves, lulling you into a dreamy state driven by soft pressure and the vibrations of his little groans around you. Your head is finally, blissfully empty again, and Jihoon seems to be able to sense the switch, because he starts sucking harder, flicking his tongue back and forth over the bud until it has its own heartbeat.

You lift your head up, tucking your chin into your chest so you can watch him, his dark hair against your thighs, his face between your legs, that smart mouth wrapped around you.

You’ve never cum from just oral before, but you’ve also never had someone eat you out with so much dedication, so much fervor, and everything is made better by the fact that it’s not just someone, it’s Jihoon.

Jihoon, your best friend who you sometimes miss even when he’s sitting right next to you, his thigh pressed against yours and his arm around your shoulders.

Jihoon, your roommate who you occasionally stare at for just a bit too long when he stumbles into the kitchen wearing only his little shorts and a serious case of bedhead.

Jihoon, your Jihoon.

Suddenly, the wave is building, sucking you into its undertow, and you can’t keep your head up or your eyes open as pleasure grows and grows and grows until finally, the wave crests. It might have been your thoughts, it might have been the heady groan that reverberated around your clit, it might have been both. Either way, you’re lost under the surface in a sea of bliss, and when Jihoon breaks away and gets his knees under him, you assume it’s to offer you a hand, to help pull you out.

And then you feel that hand petting over your sensitive pussy, feel the drag of his fingertips over your clit, and you realize he’s not going to pull you out, he’s going to drown you further.

One finger slides inside of you, longer and thicker than your own, giving you something to clench down on as your walls continue to spasm with aftershocks of your orgasm. He bites out a swear, and internally you preen at his reaction to feeling you for the first time. Externally, you can only buck your hips into his touch and whine something that sounds like his name as he pulls his finger out and returns with two.

The fullness makes you sigh, the feeling of warm flesh and bone decadent after months of silicone, and when he crooks those fingers inside of you and starts searching, you know you’re done for.

You can’t ever find your g-spot on your own, your fingers are too short and your toys aren’t shaped right, and the second he locks in, you know he won’t stop. He’s the same when he’s writing a song - once he finds his flow, he could be lost to you for hours, days, weeks. The thought of him devoting that same focus to you sends a flash of electricity down your spine, one that ends with a squeeze of your cunt around him.

You can feel his eyes on you and blink your own open to meet his gaze, the eye contact hypnotizing, consuming. The next curl of his fingers brushes something inside of you that makes your face crumple, makes you forget how to breathe, and his stare grows determined as he taps his fingertips in the same spot. Instantly, you feel yourself get wetter, feel it seep out around his fingers and drip down your ass to his bed, and his face grows darker somehow, his stare penetrating and possessive.

He leaves the sensitive patch alone for a little bit, sliding his fingers in and out, getting you used to the rhythm and the sensation of being fucked with them, and then he starts grinding into it with every thrust, the muscles of his arm flexing as his pace rockets up. It sounds fucking obscene, the squelch of your soaking cunt around his fingers, especially paired with your breathy, high pitched noises, your whines and whimpers and gasps.

You’re already getting close again, but you don’t want to cum so soon, don’t want this to be over if he decides you haven’t earned his cock.

“Jihoon!” You squeak, squirming beneath him in pained pleasure, though you can’t get anywhere with his hand pressing your thigh down and his fingers filling you up.

“Be a good girl and take it for me, hm?” His voice is so low and rough, you almost don’t recognize it, but you listen anyway, trying your best to be still under his siege because all you want is to be good for him, for only him.

“There we go, that’s my girl,” he murmurs under his breath, his words like a live wire snaking around your throat, stealing your voice and leaving you to shudder beneath him as he works a third finger in and sets his thumb on your clit.

You wonder if he’s stretching you out to fuck you, or if he just remembers you tipsily spilling to him that you prefer to cum on three instead of two. You don’t want to get your hopes up so you stop thinking, just lay there and take it, exactly like he said. His knuckles pound against the lips of your cunt as he fucks you hard with his fingers, the tips hooking into your g-spot on every stroke in and scissoring on every stroke out.

You can feel heat spreading throughout your body, the fire starting in your lower belly and traveling through your veins to scald every limb, to raze every cell. You’re on the precipice of something great, something that will destroy you, but you need just a little more, though you don’t know what it is that you need.

Jihoon does, of course Jihoon does, and as soon as he demands, “Cum for me, now,” you feel the dam break and the euphoria flood you, the icy bite of release sharp and cutting, dousing all of the embers burning within you, leaving you to tremble and try to breathe through every last curl of his fingers. He’s still fucking you with them, but he’s slowed down, gentled his touch, eventually leaving them within you with his fingertips pressed right into that sensitive spongy spot inside.

You feel like you’re floating, adrift, lost, until he releases your thigh and leans down over you, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that feels starkly different from the rest. This one has purpose, it has meaning, it has heart, and the sheer longing you feel for him has tears welling up and bubbling out of the corners of your eyes, dripping down the sides of your face into your hair.

When he pulls away, you can’t stop them, and soon enough, you’re bawling like a baby. Usually, Jihoon seems uncomfortable with your crying, but now, he just pulls his fingers out of you with a slick pop and wipes them off on the comforter, laying down next to you and pulling you into his arms.

He lets you cry on his chest for who knows how long, one hand rubbing comforting circles on your back and the other cupping the cheek not pressed to his pec, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a soothing pattern.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispers into the air when your sobs start to taper off, replaced by soft breaths in and out as you slowly drop into sleep.

You know you’re in a nightmare.

You’re sprinting through the night, pouring rain pounding the street and covering the sounds of your footsteps. There’s a car ahead of you and you know Jihoon is driving, and that’s what tips you off because Jihoon can’t drive.

You’re running as fast as you can, but not fast enough, even though the car seems to be slowing down, the distance decreasing between it and you until you can maybe, maybe reach out and latch onto the bumper. You throw a hand out and your fingertips graze the fender, and then it speeds up and disappears from sight, leaving you alone in the darkness of the storm, water steadily rising until it covers your knees, your hips, your waist. You try to float but something is weighing you down, and just as the water surges above your head, you wake up.

You blink rapidly in the dark, unfamiliar room, your heart thumping so hard in your chest that you can feel it, though you start to calm down when you take in a deep breath and all you can smell is Jihoon. You pat around the bed for him but find you’re alone in the room, dread pooling in your stomach as you start to wonder where he is.

You won’t be able to sleep again until you see him, until you know he won’t leave you behind like he did in the nightmare, so you clumsily roll out of bed, your limbs shaky and your thighs and pussy a bit tender from the way he handled you just a few hours ago. You stumble through the door, following the sound of soft snores to the living room, where Jihoon is spread out on the couch, barely covered in a blanket.

A frown pinches his face, his brow tight with stress, and you want to smooth it out with your thumb, want to snuggle into the spaces left unoccupied, but you don’t want to wake him, and more than that, you don’t want to know if he’d push you away.

You try to tell yourself that he just likes to sleep alone, that you were too warm for him to really rest, that him leaving has nothing to do with what happened.

Deep down, you know it has everything to do with what happened.

You take in a shaky breath and exhale it quietly, praying he’ll stay asleep as you dig your phone out from between the couch cushions. He does, and you thank him for being such a deep sleeper before darting off to your room and checking your texts.

There’s one from your bestie, asking for updates about the developing situation between you and Jihoon (you could keep it from anyone but her), and a text from Jun, telling you no worries at all and that he’d see you around, which only makes your heart feel heavier.

Needing something to do, you strip Jihoon’s bed of the damp comforter and put it in the wash along with your shorts and panties, relying once again on his ability to sleep through anything.

You numbly carry out your skincare routine before putting yourself to bed, laying awake reliving every moment in his bedroom from beginning to end, ready to admit to yourself that you’ve changed like you promised you wouldn’t.

That he’s not just a best friend to you anymore.

That you no longer want to be you and Jihoon but youandJihoon, with no spaces in between.

That you might even be in-

No, you’re not ready for that yet.

You fall asleep eventually, and there are no more nightmares, but no more dreams either.

Jihoon is pulling away, and you don’t know what to do.

He doesn’t kiss you anymore, doesn’t cook with you anymore, doesn’t even watch TV with you anymore, even when you put on the anime you were powering through together. He just stays holed up in his room, keeps the door shut where it used to be open, coming out only to eat or go to the gym.

You’re trying to shake it off, the grip that night still has on you, but it’s difficult when you have no idea what’s going on with Jihoon.

Does he regret it? Is it that he can’t even stand the sight of you? What if he hates you now?

Those are the main questions that occupy your frazzled thoughts, though you fear with the way he’s behaving, you’ll never get an answer to them.

Soon enough, you find you can barely stand to be in the apartment with the ghost of him, the reminder of his absence like a punch to the gut every single time you do something without him.

You start spending more time at your best friend’s place, her boyfriend happy to lend her to you so he can game more, though he steals her back every night before you force yourself to return home.

When you do, you pass his closed door and tell yourself, you’re not in love with him, you’re not in love with him, you’re not in love with him, like a mantra.

You don’t think it’s working.

Four weeks pass by in much the same fashion, and you’re on the verge of tearing your hair out and begging him on your knees to come back when he finally shows himself.

You’re sitting in the kitchen alone, your comfort music playing on the smart speaker as you force yourself to eat even with your appetite all but gone. You hear his door open and freeze, torn between staying where you are to confront him and scurrying off to your room so you don’t have to see him.

He appears before you can make that choice, his mouth drawn tight and his face shadowed. He hesitates in the doorway like he’s not sure if he’s allowed inside, and you’re mad at him, so fucking mad at him, but more than that, you miss him.

Miss his quiet humor and his cackle of a laugh and his sparkling eyes and his warm body. You miss having his shine on you, miss knowing that you’re his favorite, that he doesn’t treat anyone else the way he treats you, that you’re special.

And fuck it, fuck everything, because you are in love with him.

So you sigh and offer, “There’s more fried rice on the stove, if you’re hungry.”

It’s not an olive branch, but a lifeline, one you frantically toss into the treacherous sea that used to be your friendship, hoping he’ll take it and let you reel him back into your arms, into your life.

He forces a smile, one that doesn’t meet his eyes or even his cheeks, just barely curling the corners of his mouth as he lumbers over. He walks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, your very own Atlas, though you’ve never known his strength to falter, not until now.

He scoops up some rice into the bowl you still habitually leave out for him and joins you at the counter, sitting heavily on the stool across from you and starting to eat. He’s slow about it, as if his appetite is as minuscule as yours. You keep your eyes on your bowl, avoiding looking at the gauntness of his cheeks and the cut of his jawline and trying to work up the courage to ask him what the fuck is going on.

An hour passes and you’ve finally finished eating, Jihoon taking both your bowl and his to the sink, quickly washing them and the utensils as you pack up the leftovers and store them in the fridge. You finish around the same time, and the chasm between you seems to widen ever further, the ledge you’re trapped on shrinking before your very eyes.

He takes in a deep breath and clears his throat, and somehow, you just know he’s going to say something that will cleave your fragile heart in two. Something like ‘it was a mistake,’ or ‘we can’t do that again,’ or-

“I don’t think we should live together anymore.”

Oh. Well, that’s infinitely worse.

“Okay,” you say dazedly, for the third time since you started this with him, because once again, you have no other words. Also maybe because you wouldn’t be able to get anything else out with the way you’re swallowing back tears.

“Okay?” He questions harshly, just a hint of life flowing back into him as his temper ignites. His brow furrows at you, his mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know where to begin because there’s too much to say. “What do you mean, ‘okay’?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? What else do you want me to say?” You can’t help but raise your defenses, attempting to protect all the little fragments of your heart as they lay at his feet.

“I want you to-,” he blinks rapidly, his face slowly turning red as he sputters, “Don’t you at least want to know why? We’ve lived together for three fucking years, I thought you’d care a little more.”

“Don’t turn this around on me! Of course I fucking care,” you don’t mean to raise your voice, but you can’t believe his audacity, abandoning you for weeks on end and then expecting you to chase after him. “But I don’t know if I want to know why, because this already fucking hurts! It’s hurt for the past month. I mean, I literally cried myself to sleep on you and then woke up alone. And I’ve been alone every day since. How do you think that’s made me feel?”

You don’t want to cry in front of him right now, not after what happened last time, but you can’t hold back the tears anymore, not when they’re burning behind your eyes and closing up your throat.

“I was trying to protect you, I still am,” he claims desperately, softening at your words and the sight of your watering eyes. “I can’t be what you need.”

“I don’t need you to be anything but my best friend,” you whisper brokenly, lying through your teeth in an effort to keep him here, keep him close.

“That’s the problem.”

He sounds like he’s pleading for you to understand, to find the hidden meaning in his words, but you’re too worked up, too on edge and hurt to make sense of anything.

“How is that a problem? You made me promise nothing would change, that we’d still be us, and now me wanting you to be my best friend is a problem?”

“Well, I’m sorry but I didn’t think I would fucking fall in love with you!” He all but shouts, his eyes wide and his chest heaving before he sucks in a shuddering breath and takes a step back, running a hand through his messy hair and looking away from you.

His words ring in your ears, blending together into a jumble of sounds that you can’t parse through, until you’re not sure he even uttered them at all.

“Say that again?” You request quietly, feeling a bit out of your body, a bit out of your mind.

“Don’t make me, please, not when you don’t-,” he stops himself like he can’t bear to speak the words.

So he really did say it.

“And how do you know I don’t? Did you ever even think to ask before trying to take yourself out of my life?” You whisper with exhaustion and misery, wounded feelings warring with the hope attempting to blossom within you.

Jihoon seems stunned at your questions, like he really, truly was certain you didn’t love him back.

“Were you protecting me, or yourself?” You have to ask, if only to make him realize what seems so obvious to you.

“Maybe… maybe both,” he bites his lips and looks away, crossing his arms over his chest as his shoulders tense with what you assume is regret and perhaps a little embarrassment. That’s not why you asked him those things, and you can’t bear to see him so closed off to you still, not now that you know how he feels.

“Jihoon, I didn’t expect to fall in love with you either, but I did. Like, after the first kiss, if I’m being honest,” you laugh weakly at yourself, hoping to put him more at ease.

“You did?” He asks cautiously, waiting for your nod to let some of the tension in his shoulders go.

You take a step toward him and then another, and another, until you’re close enough to grip both of his arms and unfold them.

He lets you, his gaze back on your face, something like pained wonderment in his eyes as you tuck his arms around your waist and cup his cheeks. You lean in, your lips just inches from his, and whisper, “Kiss me like you love me?”

“Should be easy enough,” he whispers back before pressing his mouth to yours gently, reverently, his hands careful on your back as he tugs you closer. This kiss reminds you of the last one you shared, the one that made you sob yourself to sleep, but this time, there’s no longing involved, no sadness, because this time, you know he’s yours.

He pulls away before you’re ready, but you release his cheeks and let him go, love-tinged surprise bursting in you when he holds you tighter and pulls you into a hug. He buries his face in your neck and you twine your arms around his, one hand sinking into his hair to scratch at his scalp and the other rubbing his back as he breathes you in.

You’re always the one seeking affection, the one reaching for him, and you feel the cracks in your fractured heart start to seal back up as he whispers into your skin, “I love you, so fucking much.”

“I love you more,” you murmur, laughing freely when he pulls back and says, “Don’t even start, you know I’ll win.”

“Yeah, because you fight dirty,” you tease, giggling until he promises, “Baby, you have no idea.”

He claims your lips in a deep, ardent kiss, one that soon makes your knees weak and your thoughts turn to stardust in your head. One of his hands rises to the nape of your neck, holding you to him and controlling the angle so he can kiss you how he wants. The other drops to your hip, pushing you against the counter as he knocks your legs apart with a knee and fills the space in between with his body.

You gasp into his mouth and he slips his tongue inside of yours, a rumbling groan vibrating into your lips when your fingers clench in his hair. It’s so soft and his body is so hard, the dichotomy of the sensations stealing your breath as he pushes himself against you, grinding his thickening bulge into your thinly covered core.

You’re wearing those blasted pajama shorts again but of course it’s laundry day so they’re the only layer covering your center, and almost embarrassingly rapidly, you feel them dampening. You don’t know if Jihoon can feel it too but he’ll notice soon enough, and you can already picture the pleased smirk that’ll stretch his lips when he realizes how wet you’ve gotten for him.

It’s not your fault though, he’s so hot and you love him so much and he still hasn’t fucked you. It’s been four weeks since he touched you, and when you weren’t battling through nightmares, you were stuck in dreams of him touching you more. You still couldn’t conjure the feeling of his cock, or even the look of it, and deep below the raincloud of loneliness that’s been following you, there was a hunger, a yearning, a desperation to finally know him in this way.

Unable to stand it any longer, you break the kiss and summon your courage to pant, “Please fuck me, Jihoon.”

You expect him to tease you, to draw this out until you’re really begging, but he just releases you and takes your hand, dragging you behind him to his bedroom. When he pulls you through the doorway, you gasp at the sight that greets you, piles of clothes on the floor and sheet music and scrawled lyrics taped to nearly every free inch of the walls.

He’s normally clean, meticulous, about both his music and his space, and part of you feels sad, sorry that he’s been affected this much, but another part of you feels relieved that he’s suffered just like you have. The rest of you feels ravenous, and that’s what you focus on as he rips off his shirt and reaches for yours, his eyes hot on your breasts when they’re revealed to him.

His hands cover them immediately, cupping to test the weight of them and squeezing to feel the give, his thumbs rubbing circles around your nipples until they pucker for him. A shiver rolls through you as he ducks his head to suck one into his hot, wet mouth, groans vibrating against your skin like he loves the taste of you. He moves over to the other side, nipping at the bud and laving his tongue over it, his fingers pinching and pulling the one that’s still spit-slick.

When he pops off and brings his eyes back to yours, they’re deep, dark, covetous, and you’re so hypnotized by his stare that you don’t even notice he’s wrapped his arms around your waist until he lifts you and drops you onto his bed.

You land on your back, your breath exiting your lungs in a whoosh, knocked out by his rough handling, the action only making you feel hotter for him. He doesn’t give you much time to recover, his fingers tucking in the hem of your shorts and starting to pull them down. You have enough wherewithal to lift your hips for him this time, and when he tosses them aside, you don’t even wait for him to tell you what to do, you just rest your hands above your head, spread your legs, and let him see the mess he’s made of you.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, climbing onto the bed and settling on his stomach between your thighs, his head turning and his teeth latching onto the sensitive skin along the inside. It stings but you love the ache, hope you’ll bear the indentations for days after, though you know he’ll just replace them when they fade away.

He releases you when he’s satisfied, licking over the dents to soothe the burn before pressing his hands to the backs of your thighs and lifting them onto his shoulders. His eyes meet yours just as he leans forward and drags his tongue from cunt to clit, the fire in them sparking brighter when you buck into his mouth and whine sharply.

His thumbs come up to spread your pussy apart and then he’s on you, sucking, nibbling, biting, relearning every fold and contour of your cunt with apt attention. His tongue darts inside, tasting you at the source, and the groan that escapes him reverberates through your whole body, making your thighs squeeze around his head.

He moves his hands, one wrapping tight around your thigh and pulling it to the side to give him more room, the other shifting down to pet at your entrance. He lets you take in one breath before he starts to sink two fingers inside of you, pushing at your walls to make space until his knuckles are flush with your cunt.

You can feel yourself fluttering around his digits, the fullness blissful and the warmth comforting, and you almost think you have a hope of lasting more than a few minutes until his lips wrap around your clit and his fingers curl.

How he can pinpoint your g-spot after just one encounter, you don’t know, but all you can do is hold tight to the sheets beneath your hands and try not to scream as he builds up his rhythm. It’s fast, staccato, his fingers tapping into that spongy spot over and over, your arousal so abundant it’s seeping out of you.

He works in a third finger, and that’s when you know it’s over, the stretch of your inner muscles around him immaculate as he grinds his fingertips into your front wall, playing you like an instrument and drawing the orgasm out of you as if he’s conducting an orchestra.

His mouth is nowhere near as graceful, the pulse of his lips around your clit erratic and hurried, his mouth opening wider every so often to gather more of your arousal on his tongue and swallow it down.

The difference in sensations is what sends you careening over the edge, freefalling through the clouds of euphoria until Jihoon rips himself away from you and yanks you back down to earth.

“Fuck, I have to be inside of you,” he slurs, his face red and his eyes hazy. He lowers your thighs to the bed and sits up on his knees, licking around his glossy lips to chase the taste of you as he pushes his shorts and underwear down enough to free his dick.

Your eyes fly to it immediately, desperate to get your first look, and when it bobs in the air, a pearl of precum dripping from the head down the shaft, you almost want to cry.

You didn’t think dicks could be pretty but Jihoon’s is fucking gorgeous; thick and long enough to make you ache tomorrow, lightly pink toned until the head where it’s red and blushed, the entire thing so hard you feel your core throb just at the thought of having it inside of you.

“Please, please, please,” you whimper, need clear in your voice as you watch him crawl toward you.

He doesn’t stretch himself out on top of you like you expect, instead laying on his side next to you and sliding the arm closest to you under your back, gathering your legs with his other arm so you’re bundled up against his chest. You can’t help but wrap your own arms around him, holding him to you for both stability and comfort, your eyes caught on his as he looks down at you.

You love feeling so close to him after so many weeks apart, love being surrounded by him and held by him, love feeling his heart beating and his lungs expanding against you, evidence that he’s alive and he’s here with you.

“Line me up, baby. I’ll do the rest,” he murmurs low in your ear, and you obey as if you’re under his spell, reaching around your legs to take hold of his perfect cock and align it with your entrance.

“Good girl,” he whispers, just as he starts to push inside, and you know he said it then so he could feel how your pussy responds to him but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed, not when his face flushes with pleasure, his brows pushing together and his mouth falling open as he carves a path inside of you that’s just for him to tread, just for him to own. He feels like magic inside of you, the way he fills you to the brim and warms you from the inside out, the way you finally feel complete, like he’s the last piece to your puzzle.

He’s still for a few trembling seconds, and you can’t tell if he’s letting you get used to him or if he’s trying to keep from cumming, but either way, you want to torment him, just a little.

So you squeeze your inner muscles around him, luxuriating in the tightening of his hands on you and the swear he grits out, his eyes flashing heatedly at you as he draws his hips back and shoves them forward.

The loss of him makes you whine but the sudden fullness makes you keen, your cheeks heating at the sound of him bottoming out inside of you, the squelch that follows making him smirk. He can’t hold it for long, not when he gives you one testing thrust, then a second, then a third, and you cry out for him every single time.

You’re responsive in bed, you knew this already, but you never thought you’d be this loud, this wet, this pliant for him. All you want to do is lay here in his arms and let him fuck you how he wants, use you how he wants, take you how he wants, letting him know with your voice and your pussy just how much you love every single second.

You don’t want to think, or call the shots, or make decisions, not when you know you don’t need to with him, and suddenly you remember him saying, “You like being treated like the pretty little princess you are,” and fuck, he was right.

Jihoon must see it in your eyes, how the submission has taken over, because he coos and presses his lips to your cheek, still fucking in and out of you as he says, “You are my good girl, aren’t you?”

You manage to nod and whine, “Wanna be your best girl.”

His face softens even as his thrusts don’t, his voice gentle as he says, “You already are, baby. You’re my best girl and my only girl, okay? So don’t worry your pretty little head with anything, I’ll take care of you.”

That’s enough to have you tearing up again, this time in relief and rapture. He doesn’t miss a beat, kisses away the saltwater as it dots your cheeks and continues to sink into you so deeply, it’s like you can feel him in your guts.

Pleasure starts to spool up inside of you, scorching twine coiling tighter and tighter and tighter, moans and whimpers continuously escaping your parted lips as you feel a rush of molten gold surge through your veins, your pussy fluttering and then clamping down on him.

He shudders out a groan and fucks you through it, the friction on your rippling walls sublime, elongating your ecstasy until he finally breaks with you, filling you with a burst of warmth as his white hot cum coats the depths of you, starting to gather around your entrance when it has nowhere left to go.

You pant, trying to catch your breath and gather what little wits remain as he tucks his legs up beneath your thighs, removing the arm bolstering them and bringing his hand up to caress your cheek.

Your tears are starting to dry up as you slowly come back to yourself, and he brushes the remnants away, whispering soothing, affectionate words to you.

He tells you how much he's missed you, how sorry he is for shutting you out, for leaving you alone. He tells you how he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you, how everything he's written for the past month has either been a love song or a breakup song, how all of them made him cry too much to record a guide so sorry, baby, but you can't listen to any yet.

Then he tells you that he loves you, that you never have to worry about being alone again, that he'll be with you for the rest of your life.

So when he carefully reclaims his arms, kisses your temple and slowly pulls out before climbing off the bed, you don’t panic, because you know that he’s not leaving leaving, that he’ll come back to you this time.

And when he does, a warm, damp washcloth in one hand and your water bottle in the other, you feel a bone-deep love settle into you, one that you know is here to stay.

AN: shamelessly self indulgent, reader is me i am reader

thank you for reading, i know this was a long one!

pls lmk your thoughts i am desperate to know 😩

this is the longest oneshot i've ever written but i really wanted to have a complete narrative and im so happy with it but also nervous to share it 🥹

inspired by pretty please by dua lipa but became a beast of its own

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 2 months

Text

Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven

dbf!jake seresin x fem!reader 12k words (.....yes. 12k. i-)

summary: Flirting with the guy who fixed your car turns out to lead to much, much more when you find out he's actually not just some random guy, but your new neighbour and father's new best friend, Jake Seresin.

a/n: porn with plot. a lot of plot. and a lot of porn. 18+ obviously. reader is twenty-five in this, jake is forty-seven. this is entirely based on my new fixation on dbf!jake. i have so many thots. so many that they led to a 12k oneshot lmfao. anyway, as always, a list of things to watch out for:

pet names used in an unholy way, safe sex (i fucking managed to finally give them a condom whooooohoooo), oral sex for the both of them (yes i also wrote a blowjob. this is unbelievable i know), dom!jake, some praise kink, a smidge of strength kink at the end. a lot of begging. as always. mention of shower sex. mostly vanilla. jake fucks in missionary because he wants to be nice for his first time with her. if there's ever a sequel i swear to god he will be the most unholy fucker ever

top gun masterlist | dbf!jake seresin masterlist

The first time Jake meets you isn't the first time he's supposed to meet you. He's supposed to come by for dinner that evening, to finally get to know the daughter your parents have told him so much about. And it's not his fault that he meets you seven hours earlier that day. Not really.

Because the pictures your parents had kept showing him were all old. Mostly childhood photographs, some from your graduation, but none recent enough to connect the dots.

So it's really not his fault that he doesn't recognise you when he sees you standing there on the side of the road, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder, the hood of your car all the way up. With how wildly you're gesturing, Jake guesses that you're not particularly close to fixing whatever problem you have.

You're wary when he pulls up behind you and opens his door. It's rarely a good sign when random men prey on very obviously helpless and distressed young women. But Jake doesn't even get closer at first, just stands there in the opened car door and asks if you need any help. For a little moment, you debate whether it's worth the risk. Then your father's voice rings out from your phone and you decide that there's not much this guy could do to you in broad daylight on a well used street with your father on the phone.

So you tell him the truth. Yes, you most definitely have a problem. The way he makes sure it's okay for him to come over and take a look calms you even more. He's considerate and careful and maybe you're actually lucky and he's just a guy who genuinely wants to help.

He steps out from the door and walks up to you and honestly, for a moment there you're startled. He has to be in his forties, but damn, he's attractive. Suddenly you're glad you picked your sundress over your sweatpants this morning.

You let him lean over your car and take a closer look.

"If he can't help, I'll just come pick you up and we'll call a tow truck", your father says after you've filled him in on what's happening. Honestly, you'd really rather not have to call a tow truck though, because that's just going to cost you a bunch of money again, which isn't particularly the way you want to spend it.

Also, this guy leaning over your car - and you're not even denying that you're very much eyeing him up - seems like he actually knows what he's doing there.

He takes a minute or two before he comes up again. He's smiling, which you take as a good sign. He opens his mouth and you hear what he's saying - but because you have no clue what it is that he's trying to tell you, you just nod along. You're not a mechanic, you don't know the goddamn terminology. Something something battery, something something fuel pump, whatever. You take the time to notice his accent instead.

The good news is he thinks he can fix whatever he's found, but you'll still have to get it checked out later on.

He walks back to his own car, rummages around and comes back with a toolbox and an unopened water bottle.

"It might take a while", he tells you as he offers you the bottle. "Feel free to turn on my radio."

You take the waterbottle and bite down on your lip to keep from grinning. He's sweet. Goddamn. Because you've deemed the whole thing safe, you tell your father goodbye and hang up - you honestly just want a bit of privacy to stare at this hunk of a man who's bending over the hood of your car again and offering you a very... good look at his backside.

It's summer. He's wearing a wife pleaser, which is reasonable in these temperatures, but the sight of his forearms working almost makes you feel like he knows what he's doing by wearing it. Does he have a wife to please, though? He's old enough to have kids - your age, maybe a few years younger. He's about as old as your dad. If he has a wife, maybe he's wearing it for her. Maybe she likes the way his biceps flexes just like you do.

You squint at his hands as you uncap the water bottle and take a sip. There's no ring as far as you can see. Would it be entirely unreasonable to assume he's... single?

It's been a minute, maybe, when you decide it's probably awkward for you to stand there and watch him, so you go with his suggestion and lean into his car, palms bracing against the seat to reach for the radio.

You turn it on, switch through a few channels until you find one you like and turn the volume up. Because it's probably just as awkward if you stay in his car - if not bordering on creepy - you step around the opened door and settle yourself against the hood. Your thighs stick to the warmed metal, but that's something you're willing to deal with.

Your eyes cling to him as he works. You don't know what the hell he's doing, you just hope he knows and you're not left with an even worse problem after. But he doesn't seem like that type of guy. And since he's seemingly unmarried... You don't stop yourself from staring.

Fuck, maybe he has a girlfriend, not everyone gets married at thirty. Not everyone wears their wedding ring either. But a girl can dream, right? And you're dreaming, for just a few minutes. You allow yourself to dream.

He looks so good. He looks so fucking good.

Sandy-blond hair, cut short, but not too short, broad, broad, broad shoulders... those arms, that back.

When he straightenes and looks at you, greasy fingers and a triumphant grin on his lips, you also have to admit that he's got chiseled fucking features. You swallow hard and do your best to pretend you haven't been ogling him.

"All done", he says. You raise your eyebrows.

"Really? That quickly?"

He grins and takes a step back, offering you to take a look yourself. You bite back a smile and push off the hood of his car - your hips are swaying as you walk, yeah, but as far as you're aware, he's single and just fixed your car for you, for free, in less than fifteen minutes.

Also, he's hot.

"Looks no different to me", you admit. He lets out a chuckle.

"Try it", he says, reaches for the hood and pulls it down as you slip into the driver's seat. You look up to him through the windshield before you turn the key in the ignition and-

The car starts.

The fucking car starts.

He's actually managed it.

You turn the key back and shake your head in disbelief. If he hadn't accidentally stumbled upon you, you'd probably have had to call the tow truck by now. Instead, you reach for the glove compartment and grab your purse.

"How-", you start as you climb out of the car seat again, shutting the door behind you. "How the hell?"

He chuckles.

"Actually, don't tell me", you interrupt yourself, throwing your hands up. "I don't even want to know. Here."

You reach into your purse and pull out disinfection wipes, offering them to him. He takes one with a smile and a drawled thanks and cleans off the grease on his hands before folding it up and letting it disappear into his pocket.

"So you're my knight in shining armour today", you say, biting down on your lip. Fuck it. You're gonna find out here and now whether or not he's single. "Otherwise I'm sure the tow truck would've cost me a hundred bucks - at least."

"Yeah, probably", he agrees, his eyes dropping to your mouth for just a second.

"Well, then", you smile, as coyly as you can manage. "How can I thank you?"

And just as you hoped, he stills, taking you in - maybe for the first time, you're not sure. His eyes rake down your body, your cleavage, your waist, your legs. His lips tug into a grin, but when he looks back up at you, he's serious.

"No worries", he tells you. "I'm not the tow truck."

He's not pushing you. Actually, he's doing the opposite, and you're not a fan. Maybe he isn't single after all. Maybe he does have a girlfriend. Or a wife. Or maybe he's not interested. Maybe... but you can give it a try, right? Just one try.

"I can't just drive off", you argue, blinking up at him a little more, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Fuck, are you really doing this? Your breath catches for a moment. But then again, if he isn't single, you're just gonna get into your car and never see him again. So who cares? "How about I give you my number?"

Your heartbeat quickens as he looks at you and straightens up. He's still grinning. You can't quite figure him out.

"I'm forty-seven, darling", he chuckles. You try your hardest to ignore how that pet name sounds, all sweet and intimate and god, you'd do a lot to have him say it again.

"So?", you ask and raise an eyebrow. "Does that mean you don't have a phone?"

Jake shakes his head with a chuckle, but you keep looking up at him so seductively, keep smiling so flirtatiously that he can't help himself. You're wearing such a pretty dress, such a dainty necklace around your throat. And you're serious about this.

He's had younger women flirt with him, yes, but usually five, ten years younger at most - and even that's been a while, because he isn't going to bars every night anymore.

You're really young. You're too young. You're, what, twenty-six? You can't be much older.

But you're stunning. Gorgeous eyes, kissable lips, glossy and plush and for just a moment, Jake loses himself in the images his mind seems to produce immediately when he looks at you - has been, from the second he'd spotted you through his windshield.

He's old enough to know better. But he still reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone.

...

The first time Jake officially meets you is seven hours later when he knocks on your parents' door and takes a step back to wait for it to open.

"That's gotta be Jake, someone get the door!", your mother's voice calls out, and it takes a few seconds until he hears soft footsteps coming down the hallway.

Then the door cracks open.

And there stands-

You.

You're smiling widely for the entirety of two seconds. Then your face falls.

Jake feels like the rug is pulled out from under his feet. He tumbles deep down a dark, dark hole as he stares at your pretty eyes, all shocked and wide, mouth open.

"You", you let out, almost breathless.

"You", Jake echoes, in quite the same tone.

Within seconds, you're stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind you and holding out your hand in front of you, as if to keep him a safe distance away.

You're quick, almost stumbling over your own words as you come to conclusions and try to grasp all their consequences. Jake has a hard time even listening to you. He's frozen in his spot, barely comprehending the entire situation.

The young woman that had so unashamedly flirted with him this morning - that he had most definitely flirted back with - is his neighbour's daughter. His friend's daughter.

So he's fucking frozen in spot, yes.

He's frozen even as you're ushering him into the house with a smile on your lips that's just a bit too wide. He's frozen as he sits down at the dinner table and frozen as your mother offers him a beer. He's frozen as he settles on the couch after and as your father turns on a football game. He's frozen as you scoff at the tv and disappear up the stairs.

Your father asks him what's wrong, but there's no way Jake can tell him.

Even without your lecture on the porch, there would've been no way he would have admitted that he's got your number saved in his phone, "Twenty-five" with a winky face emoji behind it.

So he says he hasn't been all that well - maybe getting the flu or something.

Which is bullshit. He doesn't get sick. He's been sick two, maybe three times in all his life.

But he does think he'll be sick when you take your last step down the stairs half an hour later, in pajamas that barely cover anything - satin or something, he's too focused not focusing on your bare skin to notice anything except your bare skin, really. You just traipse over to the kitchen on tiptoes, eyes glued to your phone, hushed voices reaching his ears when you talk to your mother before you reappear in the living room.

"I'm going to bed", you announce, phone clutched tightly in your hands. "It's been a long day."

Jake can't hear your father's answer. He can't hear the commentator or the cheers from the tv. He can't hear anything, not when you're standing there in the doorway, when he's concentrating so fucking hard on not looking at you.

He fails miserably.

His eyes rake down your body so scorchingly hot that they burn holes into your skin. You have to swallow hard at his expression.

You're not tired at all, actually. Yes, it's been a long day, but if anything, you're buzzing with adrenaline. Which is worse. Because the entire dinner long, you've just had to sit there and stare at him and not do anything about it.

So you're aching to finally hide away in your room, to crawl into bed and contemplate what the fuck is happening. And, just maybe, to dip your fingers into your pajama shorts and think about his shoulders, his arms, his jawline...

Jake manages to grunt some kind of 'goodnight' before you flee - but he doesn't manage to drag his eyes back up from your stomach, all exposed and on display for him. And he doesn't manage to hide it from you.

...

He sees you often over the following weeks. He's been over at your parents' house almost every day for the past six months anyway, and that doesn't change just because you've come back home. Your father still invites him for football games, your mother still talks him into coming over for lunch or for dinner or both and whenever they're outside tinkering on something, he's being called to help.

And - because of course, it's your house as well - you're there, too.

All around him, all the time.

At first, it's innocent. You walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water and smile and say hello. You sit on the couch on a call with a friend and wave at him through the window. You come back from a walk with the dog and ask how he's doing before you disappear inside.

But then there come moments... Moments in which you lie down on a sun lounger in a skimpy bikini while he's painting the fence with your father, sunglasses high on your nose, a book in your hands, rubbing sunscreen into your skin and biting your lip when he can't help but look at you. Moments in which you brush up against him in the kitchen with a giggled 'Sorry', your mother's back turned to you as she grabs milk from the fridge, his fists clenching at his sides, his coffee cup held decently in front of his crotch. Moments in which you sit next to him on the couch and have to lean over him with a lengthy apology, your father just disappearing into the bathroom, your palm high enough on his thigh to stagger into the inappropriate.

The only time he's safe is at work. And even then, you're on his mind constantly.

Those pretty dresses you wear all the time, low-cut in the front and so short they hardly reach past your mid-thighs, in all colours of the rainbow. Those skimpy tops with the flowers on them and jeans-shorts or skirts he's more than once noticed are actually skorts.

He shouldn't be attracted to you. It's so wrong on so many levels. You're too young, much too young, twenty-two years younger than him. And - worse - he's best friends with your father.

He can't be attracted to his best friend's daughter. He simply can't.

It's wrong. It's so, so wrong.

But he can't help himself. He can't help himself when you brush up against him, when you touch him, when you look like that right in front of him.

He doesn't know how he survives those first weeks. He doesn't feel like he's alive, really. Every waking thought is of you - of you and of how wrong it is that he can't stop thinking about you. That he keeps imagining what it would be like to hold you, to kiss you, to-

No.

No, he can't.

Even though you're making it practically impossible for him.

And it's not like you really know what you're doing either. But ever since the car incident that very first day back home, you've been picturing those arms, those shoulders - and after the first time you caught sight of him working shirtless on some project in the backyard with your father, those fucking abs. All glistening, sweaty skin, that v-line, that happy trail...

It's not your fault he's starring in all of your late night fantasies now. It's his. It's his because he shouldn't be allowed to look that fucking good, to smell and sound and feel that good, when you can't have him. Because of course you can't.

He's twenty-two years older than you. He's your dad's new best friend.

You can't.

You can't flirt with him like you want to, you can't have him, because it would be wrong. But you also can't not.

You don't mean to taunt him, not at first. At first, it's just instincts. Talk to him, get his attention. But the more you're around him... the less you can control yourself.

You want to then. You want to graze your fingers across his thigh when your father isn't looking, you want to suck the straw of your drink into your mouth while you blink up at him, you want to accidentally drop your spoon and bend over in front of him. You want to because you know he wants you to.

Even though he doesn't say it, even though he forces himself to turn away when you walk by him, you see the way he looks at you. You catch him staring, you catch him eyeing you up and down. You notice the tick in his jaw and the way his fists clench at his sides. You watch his knuckles turn white as he grabs the neck of his beer bottle and takes a deep sip.

You know he's most definitely attracted to you.

Because even if you imagine half of those things - there's still the car incident. There's still your number saved in his phone. There's still 'darling' on your mind. Mostly the way he's repeated it since then, two or three times maybe, each one inspiring more sinful bedtime scenarios.

You can't.

He can't.

And yet neither of you doesn't.

...

Your parents are away when it happens. Your dad has to go on a trip for work and he takes your mother with him, surprises her with an extra weekend of romance just for the two of them. They're gone by Wednesday morning and won't be back until Sunday afternoon and even though you're twenty-five and have experience living on your own, they've asked Jake to check in on you, just to make sure you're okay.

The first time he 'checks in on you' is involuntary. He's just come back from work, it's Wednesday, 3pm, and he's sitting down on his back porch with a beer when he spots you.

He really doesn't mean to. He hadn't even known you were there.

But the fence between your house and his isn't high and so it's only natural that his eyes flick over to your garden once.

And then twice.

Because you're climbing out of the pool in the tiniest black bikini Jake has ever seen in his life, looking like some angelic, biblic, ancient goddess - your hair in a messy bun, droplets of water running down your bare skin, muscles working as you pull yourself up the little ladder and put both feet against solid, dry ground, leaving wet footprints with every step you take until you grab your towel, sling it around your shoulders and-

Look right at him.

Your lips tug into a flirty grin. You wave at him, your hand lingering in the air a second too long before you wrap the towel tightly around yourself and tread towards the fence. Jake can't do anything but watch you go and swallow hard.

The other option would probably be to drag you into his arms and ravage you until your throat is sore from screaming his name.

So he just sits there and stares at you instead.

"Hey there", you greet as soon as you're close enough to the fence that he can't look past your belly button anymore.

"Hey", Jake says and for whatever reason, his voice sounds raspy even to himself. Your grin only deepens.

"Do you have plans for dinner yet?", you ask. You bat your lashes at him innocently as you dry off your arms. "I was going to order take out."

So that's why three hours later, Jake rings your doorbell, in a black button up he spent twenty minutes picking out. The last time he'd spent that long in front of the closet, he'd been about fifteen years younger and about to go on an actual date. This isn't an actual date. This is anything but a date, because he's only supposed to check in on his best friend's daughter. He's supposed to look after you. Keep you safe.

But you open the door in an oversized, washed out band tee and smile so stunningly that he forgets what he's supposed to do in about half a second.

There's a moment of silence as Jake stares at you. He knows that damn band tee.

"Is that... mine?", he asks in disbelief as he waits for the sight to sink in, which it does not do. His mind blanks completely. It's not just that it's oversized and that you look like you're drowning in it, which already has him imagining the way he could flatten his palms against your stomach and feel for you in that heap of fabric. It's also that he knows this fucking shirt because he's been wearing it for the past ten years.

You look down like you're just realising what you have on, not like you'd almost had a heart attack when you'd seen it in the laundry basket, squealing so loudly that your mother had come in to check on you. Jake had worn that shirt the same day and apparently forgotten to put it back on when he'd gone home, so your mother had put it in the laundry.

She hadn't realised that you'd stolen it for yourself before she could wash it. She probably hadn't paid it that much attention.

You had though. And tonight had felt like the perfect occasion to wear it.

"I found it in the laundry", you say truthfully, looking up at him with big eyes. "Dad said it wasn't his so I just took it. Maybe a mix up. Do you want it back?"

Your fingers reach for the hem of the shirt down by your thighs, tugging mindlessly up just a tiny bit. Jake almost stumbles over his own words with how quick he is in denying you.

"No, no, keep it", he reassures. "Keep it."

You let go of the shirt as your grin widens.

"Okay then", you say softly, turn around and leave the door open so Jake can get in. You stroll into the kitchen, crack open the fridge and grab the freshly made iced tea while Jake closes the door behind him and puts away his shoes.

It could have easily been awkward. Honestly, Jake isn't sure that it's not. But it doesn't feel like that. It just feels... heavy. Drowsy. As though you're moving in slow motion, looking at him over your shoulder with a sultry grin. And in his shirt as well. His fucking shirt, it's unbelievable.

You're smiling at him over Chinese take out food with the radio playing softly in the background and the dim kitchen light on and it could have been almost normal, almost nothing, almost just a friendly dinner with his best friend's daughter.

But it isn't.

It isn't because you're leaning over the table and stealing a spring roll from him, grinning at him when he starts to protest. It isn't because you're pushing him back down onto his chair when he wants to get up and help you clear the table, leaning most definitely too close to him to grab his plate and bending most definitely too far down to put it into the dishwasher. It isn't because you're opening a bottle of whiskey, pouring him one and only then asking if he's going to stay and watch a movie with you.

You've already poured him the drink.

Not that he'd been planning to say no.

You're not close to him on the couch, not really. You're a respectful distance away as you put your own drink onto the table in front of you and grab the remote. You're still a respectful distance away as you scroll through a bunch of movies and ask him if he's got any preferences - besides football, of course.

But when you decide on a movie, on one of those rom-coms he'd never watch willingly, you're draping your legs over his and brushing your hair away from your face and he has to swallow hard.

His hands drop to your bare skin almost instinctively. He can't keep them off of you, not when you're this close to him, not when you're offering so prettily. It's like he has to touch you, has to brush his thumbs across your ankles.

This could all be normal. This could all be usual.

Jake doesn't bother paying attention to the movie. It's not like he could possibly pay attention to it, not when his fingers are running up and down your soft skin. So he doesn't really mind that he misses their first kiss, even as you look up from the drink you're refilling with a gasp and wide eyes to watch.

Jake just watches the way your hair frames your face, those droplets of iced tea on your lips before you wipe them off. He's sure he could taste them if he tried to.

You lean back into the couch then and stretch and your shirt - Jake's shirt - rides so far up that he catches sight of your underwear. Fuck.

He has to grab onto you hard so that he doesn't launch himself right on top of you. His mouth is dry all of a sudden, so dry that he has to swallow. You blink up at him as you feel his hands clench around your ankles, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to keep from grinning.

He needs a few seconds to even look up at you. It's like his eyes are glued to that expanse of bare skin at your hip, clinging to the thought of you in your underwear right before him. You're always wearing shorts. You're always wearing shorts. You're always fucking wearing shorts.

Shit.

He shouldn't. He can't.

But his hands brush up your calves and he does look back at you then, which really isn't better, because your lip is still caught between your teeth and your expression is so sinful that he has to bite down on his own tongue.

"Jake", you breathe, all soft and quiet and that's it. That's his breaking point.

You can't just say his fucking name like that, not in his shirt, not while presenting him such a good look at your underwear, and expect him to be okay.

"Fuck", he mutters, then he's on you.

It's an uncomfortable position. You're half turned to him, half away, your legs are still thrown over his lap, which means he can't really push close to you, but his lips are against yours, so firmly, so passionately that you can't care, not right then.

Your eyes fall shut and you kiss him back with the same fervor, the same heat, the same fucking desperation to finally feel him. You part you lips almost too eagerly, too quickly, just so he can stroke his tongue along yours. His hands dig into your thighs, grabbing you tightly, and your arms cross behind his neck to drag him down to you - just that your legs are really in the way now and you have to try and pry one from his lap so that he doesn't crush it, which isn't all that comfortable and takes a while too long to still be sexy. You hardly mind. Jake doesn't either, only pulls his knees up to the couch to climb on top of you.

The whole thing is complicated and annoying and decidedly too time consuming, but his lips are on yours and he's pressing against you, catching himself with a palm against the couch cushions and lowering you to lie down, every single touch frenzied and hurried and hot. Heady and heavy and horny.

You're dragging your hands through his hair, tugging, pulling, scratching your nails across his scalp. He's grabbing your hips with his free hand, grasping your thighs, tangling his fingers in your shirt and digging them into your skin.

You're grinding against him. Not softly, not carefully, not secretly. You're wrapping your legs around him and grinding against him, almost without realising it - you need to be close, you need to be closer. You need to move. You need to feel him.

At the first moan you let out, Jake stills. When you breathily add his name, he pulls back entirely.

It's cold and empty without him, cold and empty and confusing as he settles back on his ankles, panting and wide-eyed. Your arms and legs drop to the couch as you try to catch your breath.

"No", Jake mutters. "We can't."

You push yourself up onto your palms, chest still heaving as you look up at him. Your cheeks feel so hot that you're sure they're embarrassingly red by now and your mind is still hazy with what just happened -

Jake had kissed you. He'd kissed you and you'd kissed him back.

And now he isn't kissing you anymore and you're absolutely not alright with that. You need him to kiss you again. You need to dig your hands into his hair and feel him knead your thighs again. You need to find out what it's like to rake your nails along his arms and scratch down his back.

"Jake", you breathe, staring at him all wide-eyed as he shakes his head and inches even further away from you. He seems like he's in a trance. You repeat his name more forcefully and reach out for him - but he only shakes his head again and runs a hand down his face.

You still for the entirety of two seconds. Then you sit up, inches closer to him than necessary, and toy with the hem of your shirt. You've got a hunch that giving and taking the sight of your underwear will only help your case here.

"Why not?", you ask as you watch his eyes drop down, just like you'd wanted. His breath catches.

"You're twenty-five", he begins, his voice a bit too rough to sound unaffected. "And I'm friends with your father."

You take a long look at him.

"Would you if you weren't friends with my father?"

You bite down on your lip and blink up at him as prettily as you can manage. You're quite sure you know the answer. Especially with that car incident... With your number saved in his phone. With that smug grin you still see in your fantasies.

He hadn't been too concerned with your age back then.

"I am friends with your father", Jake says, all the while struggling to drag his eyes back up your body.

"But if you weren't", you go on, not ready just yet to leave this be - because you know that if you back down now, you'll never get a chance again. Not like this. Not with him. "If you weren't friends with my father. Would you?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw. You hold your breath - one, two, three seconds. Then he's on you yet again and this time, this time with no end in sight. Not as he pushes you back down onto the couch and sets both his palms down next to your head. Not as you wrap your legs around his waist and work the buttons of his shirt, fingers moving so frantically that you slip up more than once - not that you care.

You're kissing Jake. After what has felt like an eternity of teasing and quietly flirting, you're finally kissing him, touching him, feeling him. On top of you, all around you.

Yes, he fucking would. You were right.

His shirt finally unbuttons and you can hardly push it out of the way quickly enough to run your hands down his chest - exploring his collarbones, his abs, that fucking happy trail that has been driving you insane ever since you saw it for the first time. Your fingers brush bare skin, warm, hot, bare skin, before they catch on his waistband. He grinds his hips onto yours as you draw your fingertips along his belt and swallows the moan you so pathetically let out.

You're just about to get to work on opening his belt buckle when he shifts his weight onto one hand and grasps your wrist with the other, pulling an inch away from you as he does so, lips parting in sticky intoxication.

"Jake", you mewl, but when you blink open your eyes he's already shaking his head softly and- grinning. Grinning that smug grin that you've been dreaming of. The one you haven't seen since the very first time you met him. Not with your dad around or directed at anyone else, no. The grin that takes your breath away right then, and you can't even tell why.

It's confident and cocky and cheeky and so, so very, very sexy. Fuck.

You stare at him with wide eyes and parted lips, too caught up in taking him in to notice how he's bringing both your hands up over your head.

"If we're doing this, I'm doing it right, darling", he mutters, all low and rough and the pet name has you clamping your thighs even harder around him. "And only if you want me to."

You can't nod quickly enough.

"I need you to tell me, baby", he grins, exposing those pearly whites that you'd very much like to feel biting into your neck or something. "I need you to say yes."

"Yes, Jake", you push past your lips, breathless and panting and desperate. Desperate for him. "Please."

His chuckle reverberates in your own chest. He runs his hand down your side and rubs a soft circle against the bare skin of your hip, catching on the flimsy fabric of your underwear.

"Already begging for me", he mutters with a grin, his fingers hooking into your waistband. Your hips buck up into his and a moan drops from your lips and Jake just keeps on grinning. Keeps on running his thumbs along your hip bones. "That easily."

You can't even deny it, deny him. You need him to touch you and you need him to do it now.

"You're lucky I want to taste you, because I'm sure it'd be fun to tease you", he chuckles, holds you down against the couch as he sits back on his ankles, keeping your legs spread and the dark spot on your underwear right on display for him. "I could keep you here all night."

You're not sure what excites you more - the promise of all night or the tasting you part. Either way, you bury your hands into your own hair and tug hard to keep yourself from sitting up, pushing him onto his back and riding him into oblivion. He wouldn't let you anyway, you're guessing.

Jake runs his free hand down the inside of your thigh and you really have to concentrate on not moving then. Every touch, every brush and every stroke sends shivers down your spine and pools in your core, heating up each inch of your skin.

When he reaches your underwear once more, he hooks his second thumb into it as well and tugs. Your jaw clenches. God, you've gotta keep still, you've just gotta wait-

He looks up then and raises his eyebrows.

"Please, Jake", you breathe, before he can even say anything. His eyes drop again and he pulls your underwear down, down, down, pushing your knees together to slide them off your legs and you're holding your breath, holding your breath in this intoxicating mess of a moment as he parts your thighs again and leans in. Leans closer.

Leans... not close enough.

Instead, he grabs the hem of your shirt.

"As much as I like that you're wearing my shirt", he mutters, already pushing it up and exposing your stomach to him, "I want to see you."

You let out a pathetic little moan, loosen your hands from your hair and pull his shirt over your head instead, dropping it down onto the floor without looking or bothering where it lands. You're not really bothered about anything besides getting Jake's mouth on you right now.

You're dripping already, dripping down your own thighs as he takes you in - all naked, all bare in front of him, soft skin and smooth curves, chest rising and falling with your heavy breath, eyes half-closed, lips parted and kiss-swollen.

It's wrong. He shouldn't. But he's already gone too far and now, now, with all of you for him to see, to touch, to feel, he can't go back. He can't ever go back.

He wants to burn this image into his memory forever.

"Jake", you whisper, voice just as soft and silky as the rest of you and he snaps out of his trance, runs his fingertips over your stomach, studies you as your breath catches. He leans down again, but his eyes are fixed on you still, focused even as he presses a kiss to your hipbone, then to the inside of your thigh. His teeth graze your skin and his fingers brush against the underside of your boobs.

Fuck.

You bite down on your lip.

Jake thinks he might be in heaven as he palms at your breasts, swiping his thumbs across your nipples and watching your expression change ever so slightly. He breathes against your wetness and his eyes flicker down to finally look at you, dripping for him. His fingers still for just a moment.

If he does this, there's no going back. He's crossing a line that he can never uncross.

But in all honesty - he's already long crossed that line.

So he flattens his tongue against you and tastes you. And you throw you head back and let out a moan that's so filthy that he can't even be bothered to care about what fucking lines he's crossing anymore. He just buries his face in your wetness and basks in the way your eyes roll back into your head.

Your hands dig into his hair all by themselves, tug and pull and push him closer, further into you. You taste heavenly. You are in heaven. You're in heaven with Jake between your legs, brushing his tongue through your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth and groaning into you. He's running his fingers over your breasts, palming and grasping at them, circling and tracing.

That's when the movie stops.

You hadn't even realised it was still on, to be honest, but now, in the silence, your moans echo three times as loud. Jake bathes in the sounds you're letting out. You're absolutely gorgeous like that, teeth tugging at your bottom lip, cheeks flushed, eyes fluttering closed before you blink them open again to look at him, to watch him as he lays between your thighs.

You're soaking in the way he swipes his tongue against you, the way he palms at your skin. With every touch and every brush, you can feel the knot tightening. Can feel the tension in your limbs growing. Can feel the way your legs are starting to clamp tighter, tighter and tighter around Jake's head.

He's so good at this. He's so fucking good at this.

Your grip on his hair tightens so much that you're sure you have to be hurting him, but he doesn't show the slightest hint of wanting to tell you off for it. No, quite the opposite: he pushes further into you and groans his approval.

Which is about the last thing you can take.

Your legs cramp, your hands drag at his hair, your back arches, your head hits the armrest of the couch and Jake guides you through your high, eyes set on you, focused and fixed on you, watching every single reaction you have to him, drinking in the sight of you, drinking in your moans. You're pushing back against him, panting and clawing at him, lips parted and eyes shut tightly as you take in a shaky breath and sink slowly back against the couch.

The air is heavy. Heavy with your emotions, heavy with your orgasm, heavy with your moans.

Jake pulls back slowly, softly, draws his hands down to your stomach to rub circles onto your skin - significantly warmer now than before. You're still breathing heavily, legs unhooking from around his head only reluctantly. Honestly, you wouldn't have minded if he'd just decided to stay down there for the next three to five business days. But you also don't mind as he pushes himself up and presses a kiss to your lips, because he tastes like you and you get to hook your arms around his neck and pull him even further down onto you.

With his half-bare chest pushed against yours, his tongue runs along your lips and you open willingly up to him. More than just willingly. Because with him on top of you, his lips sticky and syrupy on yours, not wanting or not able to part from yours, there's already anticipation running in your veins, wetness pooling in your core again, the urge to wrap your legs around him and grind against him growing and growing with every second that he's kissing you.

You draw your hands down his throat, push his shirt out of the way and brush your palms down his bare torso, all hard abs against your fingertips. He's in such good fucking shape you could truly be running your hands up and down a washboard right now. It feels unfair that he's more than twenty years older than you and somehow fitter.

Your fingers catch on his waistband then.

"Jake", you whine softly against him. "Please, I need you."

He groans, drops his head down to your neck and for a second, you just hear him breathe - all hot and heavy before his lips graze your skin.

"Fuck, you can't say that, darling", he mutters. "You don't know what you do to me."

His belt buckle feels cold against your fingertips, so cold against your sticky, sweaty skin.

"Show me", you whine, beg, plead. He's not teasing you, not taking his time, he's not waiting or edging or anything, and still- Still, you're so fucking desperate. He's finally got you here, finally, and as much as you're sure you'd enjoy his teasing... You just need him to fuck you. Now.

Jake chuckles breathily as he raises his head to look down at you. There's that grin again. That fucking grin.

Then he plants that grin onto your lips and you moan softly, hooking your fingers into his belt and pulling hard. You've just started loosening it successfully when he sits back onto his ankles, leaves you cold and lonely and fully naked on the couch. You mewl.

"Jake-", you let out, but he's already standing up, climbing off of the couch and you're sitting up as if in trance, just to follow him, whatever it is that he has in mind.

He slips off his shoes before he starts to work his belt and then lets that fall to the ground too. You reach for him instinctively, drawing your fingertips along his thighs as he pops the button of his jeans and pulls down his zipper, but when he hooks his thumbs beneath his waistband and tugs down, something snaps inside of you.

"Wait", you whisper. "Let me."

You reach out for him and graze your fingers along his waistband, taking a breath as your eyes flutter up at him. He swallows hard, lets his arms drop to his sides and nods heavily. God, he looks so fucking attractive. His hair all messy, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed solely on you. You make sure to work quickly, almost frenzied, hurriedly pulling down his jeans and taking his briefs right with them. You won't spend unnecessary time on unimportant things.

Your breath catches, palms stilling against his thighs.

Fuck.

Jake's hand twitches, then clenches into a fist. But he stays right where he is, doesn't move an inch. Everything in him screams at him to run his fingers through your hair and guide you closer to him - but he doesn't. He won't. Not tonight, not right now. Right now, he wants to give you every out he can. Just in case you want to take it.

You don't. Of course not.

Not when you can see just how much he's holding himself back.

So instead you lean down and kitten-lick his tip. His hand flexes, again, and even though he lets out a deep groan that will surely echo in your head for the next two weeks, he stays still.

You just wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and take him into your mouth.

He has to close his eyes and tilt his head up to keep from bucking into you. Damn, it hasn't even been that long since he got blown. And he didn't react like a teenager then. But something about your warm, wet mouth, something about the way your dainty fingers reach around him, something about how you eagerly take him so far that he hits the back of your throat, something about that soft little gagging noise you make just before you pull off of him to breathe in deeply-

Fuck, you're making this really hard for him.

"Jake", you mutter, your hand still working him. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, looks down at you sitting there on the couch, completely naked, eyes all wide and cheeks flushed and so fucking stunning. His fingers brush along your forehead, tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

"Jake", you repeat, a little more breathlessly this time. "Don't hold back for me. I won't break."

His jaw clenches again, but you just blink up at him, the weight of your words heavy between you. His eyes roam your face for any sign of uncertainty - then he nods. He'd like to disagree, though. He's more than afraid he'll break you.

You're so young, so sweet, so fragile.

Just not innocent. And you feel like you have to remind him of that - of your more than obvious flirting, of your sultry grins and half-naked hints, of your number sitting so unashamedly in his contacts.

So you lean in again, pull your free hand from his thigh and grab his wrist instead, dragging it away from your cheek and planting it on the back of your head as you wrap your lips around him. He takes a shallow breath and your hand drops back down to his thigh. There's one, two seconds in which your eyes just flutter closed and your nails dig into his skin-

Then, finally, fucking finally! Jake tangles his fingers into your hair and pushes you into him. You loosen your hand from around him and put it against his other thigh, allowing him to pull you closer and closer. You breathe deeply through your nose as Jake groans above you - and it takes everything in you not to grin. Instead, you just let him guide you, blink open your eyes to look at him and try to ignore the arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. He looks so fucking good, it should truly be forbidden, because now you have to press your legs together and steady your palms against him.

Jake feels about the same. His breathing is heavy, his grip on your hair firm, and his eyes are set on you - on how he disappears inside your mouth, again and again, your spit coating him, your throat tight. He can't help but push you down, one time, two times, and pull you back, three times, four times, then push you down and pull you back again. And again. And again. He can hardly concentrate on how good you're making him feel when you're looking that fucking sinful.

Shit.

Before he can come right then and there in your mouth, he tugs you off fully, his jaw clenching involuntarily at the soft whine you let slip. But you can barely be truly bothered when he leans down and presses his lips to yours instead. You're not bothered about anything, really - about anything but his tongue against yours as you cross your arms behind his neck and draw him in, your hands dragging into his hair, your mouth moving desperately against his, sloppily, silently begging him for more.

Jake steadies his palms against the back rest and pulls away heavily, breathing hard as you open your eyes again to look at him - half-lidded, all languid and slow. He swallows hard.

"Do you-", he starts, his voice low and rough and you nod, letting your arms drop from around him to point at the side table.

Have a condom, he'd wanted to ask. In any other situation, he'd have one himself, but something about bringing condoms for a check in on his best friends daughter would have felt incredibly wrong.

"In my makeup bag", you say, your voice thin and breathy as he stretches and reaches for the lavender coloured pouch, unzipping it and looking for the condoms between all the brushes and lipglosses. He can barely pull one out before your fingers close around it, before you've carefully torn it open. He drops your makeup bag back onto the side table right as you straighten up to press a kiss to his lips - almost innocent, almost, if it weren't for the taste of him on your tongue. Then you press a kiss onto his collarbone. Then one right onto his abs. Then one just above that happy trail that has been driving you fucking insane. And then, then, you run your tongue over his tip again before you roll the condom onto him.

Which means it's his turn.

And he doesn't hesitate.

He's not rough in the way he pushes you onto your back on the couch, no, he's smooth with it, hands running along your skin as he cages you in, as he rests his arms next to your head - but he's firm nonetheless. He takes control easily, moving you how and where he wants to, claiming your mouth, pressing his lips to yours. You let him. More even, you relish in giving in to him, in giving him control, in letting go, in trusting him. You bathe in his kisses, in his touches, in his soft grunts as he guides himself into you.

"Jake", you whine against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, eyes falling shut. The stretch is delicious, heavenly. He fills you slowly, dragging his lips down your throat as you tilt your head back and let out a filthy moan. Your legs wrap around him, pull him closer. His teeth graze your neck, drawing a moan from you as he settles. He gives you a moment to adjust.

A moment too long.

Way too long.

Even with his lips on your skin, with your nails dragging down his neck, digging into his shoulders, even with him inside of you, you need more. You need him to move. Right fucking now.

"Jake", you mewl, your eyes fluttering open. He raises his head to look at you and- Fuck, good lord. You've messed up his hair and his pupils are wide and his cheeks are red and he looks fucking heavenly. So heavenly that your breath catches. You forget what you wanted to say for a moment. Then his thumb brushes your cheek and you remember.

"Move", you breathe, digging your fingers into his skin and wrapping your legs around him tightly. You need him to move. But his lips tug up in that grin again and, as quickly as you can, you add- "Please, Jake."

His grin widens as he looks down at you, all pretty and desperate, clenching around him, lips parting in a silent moan. It would be so easy to tease you, so easy to make you beg and plead for him... And you'd look so gorgeous doing it. You're already so eager to please him.

But not tonight. Not right now. Right now, he just needs to make you feel good. So he leans down, presses a kiss to your lips and moves. Finally.

You open up to him eagerly, letting him run his tongue along yours, moaning into him as he thrusts into you. Deep and languid, hitting all the right spots like no one has before. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

You're really doing this. He's really doing this. You claw at his back, scratch down his skin, sure to leave bruises as he pulls his head up to look at you, to watch the way you arch up into him. Your skin glistens with sweat, your lips part to let out a breathy mewl and the coil in your stomach tightens, tightens, tightens.

Jake shifts his weight onto one arm, frees a hand to brush his fingers through your hair, tugging, tilting your head back, exposing your throat to him. You moan at the ceiling as he drops a filthy kiss onto your collarbone before he lets go of your hair again, trailing his hand down your side instead - and his hand is so fucking big, so big as he draws it down your body, brushing his fingertips over your boob, sweeping over your hip, grasping your thigh. You pull him down onto you, crash your lips back onto his hard. You need to feel him, you need to kiss him, you need to hold him right now. You need him. You need this.

He smoothes his fingers down your skin until they catch on your clit.

"Jake", you moan into his mouth, pathetic even to your own ears. He only grins into the kiss and circles your clit as he thrusts into you, again and again and again, your legs clenching harder and harder and harder around him before he pulls away, pulls even further away even though you chase after his lips, his eyes roaming your face as you squeeze yours shut tightly.

"Look at me, darling", he drawls, his voice low and raspy, his fingers rough against your clit. "Look at me when I'm fucking you."

You let out some kind of deranged moan at his crude wording, opening your eyes and blinking up at him because there's no fucking way you can deny him. Not when he calls you darling like that. Not when he thrusts inside you just right. Not when the view of him, messy hair and grinning and all, has you clenching around him this hard.

You're close. So close.

"Atta girl", he mutters, and that does it for you.

Your legs cramp and your lips part again to let out a gorgeous little moan that Jake swallows up immediately, slotting his mouth over yours and drinking up the way you clench around him. It takes everything in him not to come too. You're so fucking pretty and you're clenching so fucking perfectly around him, but he needs to make you feel good first, he needs to make you come first, he needs...

"Jake", you mewl, face scrunched up, back arched, as he guides you through your second high of the night. "Fuck, fuck."

He's grinning when you come down. You grab his hand and pull it away from your clit. It's too much right now, too much. It takes a second for you to even realise that he's stopped moving entirely, too focused on watching you, on drinking up the sight of you, tousled hair and red cheeks and parted lips and all. You look like an angel, so fucking heavenly that he can't believe his eyes, not really.

"Jake", you mutter, slurring his name so prettily and pulling him in for another kiss, your arms loose around his neck, your fingers lazily brushing through his hair. "Come for me?"

It's barely more than a breath, barely more than a whisper onto his lips, but he hears it, oh, he hears it. He lets out a groan as he draws away again, his eyes roaming your face. You're unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.

You're asking him to come for you. Begging him to come for you.

And there's no grin in sight, no smug smile, no hint of trying to take control of him - it's not a command, not even close, you're actually, genuinely pleading, your eyes half-lidded and barely focusing, just needing him to feel good now, too.

You're really fucking unbelievable.

He can't remember ever having a woman ask him to come.

He kisses you so hard you become dizzy, pressing his lips onto yours and tangling a hand into your hair. He pushes impossibly closer, thrusts back into you and pulls another string of moans from you, bordering on incomprehensible, hardly more than breaths, mewls that he swallows before they can flee into the empty air of the living room.

His own breathing comes in pants, his muscles clenching and tensing and he's there quicker than he thought he'd be. He's close, really close, and that's when you decide to dig your teeth into his lip and tug and fuck, he's there, alright. He's done then. He spills inside you with a groan, pulling back right as you flash him a dazed grin, eyes fluttering open to take him in.

Your throat feels way too dry all of a sudden.

You don't think you'll get this image out of your head ever again, this image of him coming undone on top of you. It's burning itself into your memory while you watch, never to be forgotten.

Because hell no, you won't forget this.

"Fuck", Jake groans, his voice all rough and hoarse and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips again, slow this time, almost soft. He brushes a thumb down your cheek, lightly cups your jaw and pulls you even closer, your skin warm beneath his fingers.

You tighten your arms around his neck a bit, keeping him firmly there, firmly on top of you, firmly inside of you. But he makes no move to leave, anyway. Just runs his tongue tenderly along yours, unhurried and gentle, and holds you close. You don't know for how long. He could've kept you there for eternity and you wouldn't have minded. How could you mind, basking in the afterglow like this, with his skin sticking to yours, his fingers grazing your cheek, his lips brushing against yours? No, really, you could've stayed there for the rest of forever.

But he pulls back after a while, of course, and pulls out, too. You let out some kind of disappointed mewl, but that's about everything you can do before he gently grasps your wrists and pulls your arms from around him, smiling in a way you can't even begin to complain.

"Lets get you cleaned up, darling", he says softly, carefully helping you sit up, his hands everywhere but nowhere nearly long enough.

You sigh dramatically, blinking your eyes open to look at him, even as you let him pull you up. Your legs feel like pudding. You feel like pudding.

"If we have to", you give in, smiling as Jake grins and shakes his head at you.

"We have to", he chuckles, hauls you up into his arms and waits for you to hold onto him before he carries you into the bathroom - seemingly fucking without any problem whatsoever, as if you weigh nothing at all to him.

You bite down on your lip and rest your forehead against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut to not have to look at him while you contemplate his strength. He should not be this fucking strong. He should not be allowed to be this fucking strong.

"Careful", Jake says, his voice low, as he sets you gently down on the toilet seat. You flinch away from the ice-cold seat against your thighs, fingernails digging into his shoulders for one, two, three seconds before you relax and settle down.

Jake lets go of you just as softly, steadying you until he's sure you won't just fall right off the toilet. He turns and you look up, his back right there to stare at, a smile tugging at your lips again - goddamn, he looks way too good, holy shit. You barely hear the garbage can open and close as he throws away the used condom, then rummages through the drawers until he finds a washcloth that he can soak in luke warm water.

He turns with a smile, grabs your chin tenderly and presses a kiss to your lips, just one, all sweet and languid, so unlike the rest of his kisses. You hardly notice that he's cleaning you off as he kneels down in front of you, simply because you're so entranced by him. God, but he really looks like he's fucking glowing, you hate him for having this effect on you.

He wraps his arms around you again - did he put the washcloth away? fuck, did you miss that? - and you cuddle close, almost (but just almost) letting out a pleased sigh. Fuck, he's so broad and so strong and so comfortable...

He sets you down on the couch and smiles.

"Wait here for me, darling", he mutters, bending down to pick up your shirt (his shirt, really) and slide it carefully over your head once again. You hug yourself close and settle deep into the couch as Jake disappears. His steps echo through the house.

Then there's silence.

Absolute silence.

You rest your head against the headrest and close your eyes, your fingertips absentmindedly drawing circles against your heated skin.

And in this quiet emptiness... the reality of the situation finally sinks in.

For the first time.

Because you just slept with Jake Seresin.

Jake Seresin. Your neighbour Jake Seresin. Your dad's best friend Jake Seresin. Twenty-two years older than you Jake Seresin.

Holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit.

This actually happened. This actually fucking happened. You slept with Jake Seresin. And somehow... somehow- Somehow you can't feel guilty. You can't feel bad or ashamed. Not like you should. And you definitely should. Because this is Jake Seresin, not some random frat guy. This is forty-seven year old, your dad's best friend Jake Seresin.

But you can't feel bad.

You really do try, for the entirety of a minute or two, while somewhere in the back of the house, a door is opened and closed again. But you still can't feel bad. So you don't.

Jake comes back with a water bottle and his briefs back on, which you can't help but feel disappointed at. He sits down on the couch next to you and hands you the bottle.

"Drink", he nods, so you uncap it carefully and take a sip. It's charming, really, how the first time you'd met him with your car broken down, he'd also handed you a water bottle. A grin tugs at your lips involuntarily. It's just coincidence, you know that, but there's something incredibly sweet about the way he's seemingly always made sure to keep you hydrated. There's something sweet about him, simple as that, with how softly he's cleaned you off and settled you down on the couch after.

You put the bottle down on the table and turn to him.

He looks almost normal again, almost like before. He's still nearly naked though (which you certainly aren't complaining about), and his hair still looks like he's just walked straight out of a hurricane. He raises his eyebrows at you as you take him in.

"We should probably talk about this", you say, your voice cracking halfway through. You're not sure you want to talk about it. And with the way Jake's face falls... yeah, he doesn't seem to, either. But he still straightens up and brings some more distance between the both of you.

Maybe that's smart, actually. Maybe. But then again, you've already done everything you could to try and feel bad, so instead of doing the reasonable (you're already way past the reasonable anyway) and pushing further away from Jake too, you stretch out a leg and drape it over his lap again.

A muscle in his jaw ticks and he grasps your ankle almost immediately, as if there's no other choice but to touch you even while he's trying to keep his distance.

"But", you grin, scooching a little closer as an idea forms in your mind, "You know, I still have to shower. Chlorine is so bad for the skin unless you wash it off. And I did spend quite a while in the pool today."

...

It's Monday afternoon and even hotter than the weeks before. You're sitting outside, sunbathing in the fifteenth layer of sunscreen of the day, with sunglasses on that hardly seem to do anything and wearing nothing but a bikini because god, you're fucking melting. It hasn't been this hot the entire year.

The only really good thing about the scorching heat is that Jake, for lack of swimming pools in his garden, is doing sets in yours. You're incredibly glad for your sunglasses, because even though your mother is sitting right next to you, burying her nose in another of the novels she'd checked out from the library two weeks earlier, you can ogle Jake without worrying that she'll catch you.

And goddamn, you're ogling, alright.

It's not like you haven't stared at him enough. Over the past five days, you've barely been doing anything else. Well, except for those times you'd had your eyes closed and his lips on yours, of course. But still, you don't really feel like you could ever possibly get enough of staring at him.

And right now, right now, with the way he climbs out of the pool, arms tensing and flexing, water dropping down his skin, his hands running through his soaking wet hair...

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You bite down on your lip and press your thighs together. God, if you aren't careful, you'll have to disappear into the house and shower early, because you're sure you could not pass the dark spot on your bikini bottoms off as sweat.

Jake turns away to grab his towel and starts to dry off and you're already mulling over how you'll phrase the message you'll send him (something along the lines of 'tell my parents you need to use the bathroom' with a shower selfie attached? You've already sent him way worse things while he'd been at work) when your mother suddenly gasps.

Three heads turn to her simultaneously.

"Jake!", she chokes, her book sinking down into her lap. Jake raises his eyebrows at her, just as clueless as you are. She parts her lips and then clamps her mouth shut again, apparently lost for words. "Your back."

It hits you like a tidal wave.

Oh, shit. Oh, holy fucking shit.

You should've noticed earlier. Much earlier. You should've- God, he'd known, too, hadn't he? But you'd been the one to stare at his back long enough that you should've noticed. Yesterday. You should've noticed the long, red lines running down his skin. Your long, red lines running down his skin. Fuck, fuck-

"Oh, that-"

Jake stumbles over his own words for the first time ever since you've met him. His eyes find yours, for just a moment or two, and you can see the panic in them. It's the second fucking day your parents are back. The second fucking day. And you're already messing up, you're already-

"I knew it", your mother grins, clapping her hands together and letting out a laugh that startles you so hard you flinch. "I knew you were a womanizer after all! I mean, looking like that, there's no other way-"

"Honey!", your father gasps, and she giggles and throws her hands up. But he's grinning too and you know him well enough to say he isn't really mad that she's complimenting Jake.

"Sorry, sorry, just saying." She chuckles to herself and grabs her book again, her voice dropping to a mumble. "I can't believe it though, we go away for five days and suddenly he's hooking up with someone! I think we need to stop inviting him over so often if we want him to find somebody."

Your father laughs and gets up to offer Jake a beer.

"You didn't happen to see who he brought home, did you?", your mother asks, her voice almost too casual to really be casual as she turns her head to look at you with raised eyebrows.

You choke on your breath.

"Um-", you start, but your father already rolls his eyes and saves you without meaning to.

"You're not nosy at all", he chides, resting his beer bottle against her foot. She tugs it away and shakes her head at him.

"Just curious", she grins. "Just curious."

Yeah. Just curious. You pray to god that just curious won't one day expose the little secret you've got going on with Jake. Next time, you'll really have to be more careful with your nails.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #dbf!jake seresin #dbf!jake seresin smut #x reader #dbf!jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin smut

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starsforselene · 1 month

Text

Prove it - Mingyu x Reader

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Afab reader

Rating: explicit MDNI

Contains: Fingering, breast play, light ass smacking, doggy style, little dirty talk, unprotected sex, coming on body

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: During a late night hangout session, you and your friend Mingyu get into a discuss over whether all guys fall into the "boob man" or "ass man" category. Mingyu insists he's both. Naturally, further exploration is required.

Note: This is just Mingyu smut I have no excuse.

“Oh, c’mon! Be honest with yourself and with me!”

“I am being honest! I swear it, I don’t have a preference!” Mingyu exclaims as he leans forward on the couch, eyes bright with laughter.

You huff and shake your head as you fold your legs up on the couch, fighting your own laughter.

“Kim Mingyu, every man is either an ass man or a boobs man. The whole ‘I don’t have a preference’ thing is just a way to seem like a sensitive guy. In touch with your feminine side or whatever they say.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes and leans back again. He’s not annoyed, not truly, the smirk on his face gives him away. You’re half a pizza and two soju bottles deep into your routine weekend hang out and the conversation has somehow ended up here. Some would think it strange to ask your best friend what he prefers on a woman but after years of being friends nothing is off limits anymore; you know nearly everything about each other. Maybe part of you just wants to finally know everything about each other.

“I know that you have a strict preference for douchebags who pretend they’re more mature than they are to get into your pants but, I promise you that I genuinely don’t prefer one over the other. I-” he pauses and looks at you, suddenly a little more flushed. “I don’t have to prove myself to you, you know.”

His hesitation peaks your interest, now you have to know. You sit up and lean closer to him, gaze boring into him. He chuckles but doesn’t break eye contact, heat searing through you as his dark eyes meet yours. You inhale sharply, taken aback by the sudden pulsing between your thighs, fighting the urge to bite your lip when you see him lick his momentarily.

“So what were you going to say? That you don’t have a preference ‘cause it’s all just so great?”

He laughs and runs a hand down his face, leaning his head back against the sofa. He’s splayed out almost fully across it now, leaving you just enough space to still be sharing the couch with him. Typically, the fact that he’s sitting there in just a tank top and some shorts doesn’t bother you–he’s just a friend, after all–but his broad shoulders and large arms are just so…there tonight. He’s gotten bigger lately and you’ve enjoyed teasing him on his new hobby but now your body is reacting to the results of his hard work in ways you find surprising. The silence pulls you out of your thoughts, realizing a little too late that you were blatantly staring at the way his pecs stretch the material of his tank top.

“See something you like?” he says, raising his eyebrows comically as he flexes his chest.

“Stop it! Don’t change the subject!” You swat his arm–his very firm arm–and laugh.

“The answer is yes, okay? I don’t have a preference because it’s all great and I love every single inch of a woman’s body. As all men should by the way, even though they don’t.”

The way he holds your gaze as he replies shoots heat down your spine and into your core. Arousal floods your panties, causing you to clench your thighs together. You’re confused at how your best friend is managing to turn you on like this.

Mingyu’s eyes widen the smallest amount as he drops his gaze down to your mouth. In a panic you gasp, releasing your bottom lip in the process. Shit, were you just lustfully biting your lip at your best friend…and he…seems to like it? You search his face for hints of disgust or humor but find nothing but his widened pupils. You sit back against the couch, putting distance between you and whatever the fuck is happening right now.

“Did my answer satisfy you?” he asks, voice husky.

“Satisfy me? It takes a lot more than a response to do that, Gyu.” It amazes you how well you act unaffected when in reality you’re coming apart at the seams.

“I’m sure it takes plenty to satisfy you,” he retorts with a chuckle as he sits up straighter with what you think is a sly attempt on his part to adjust himself.

When he catches you looking he smirks; you played right into it–he wanted you to look. You take a breath in hopes that it looks like you’re annoyed when you’re pretty riled up.

“Oh? Are you trying to say something?”

“Yeah, actually. I am.”

You laugh despite the heat radiating under your skin. If he wants to play this game you can match his energy; that’s not a problem. You square your shoulders and stare him down, willing your heartbeat to settle even though your pulse has been racing since he mentioned you being satisfied.

“Are you insinuating that you can satisfy me?”

Mingyu swallows hard and you preen with satisfaction at how you’ve affected him. It’s short lived, however, as he leans forward to bridge the gap between you. The air feels charged, his eyes meeting yours with a fire you’re not quite used to seeing from him.

“I just want to show you that I really don’t have a preference, that’s all. Plus, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about what it would be like to satisfy you,” he says with a sly smile.

All bravado leaves you along with the air in your lungs, you blink a few times to make sure you’re not dreaming. It takes only a few seconds to gather yourself enough to respond, the words leaving your mouth before you can begin to question it.

“Fine, prove it.”

He closes the distance between you with a low growl, capturing your mouth with his in a kiss that leaves you reeling. You wrap your hands around his neck, tugging him closer as he deepens the kiss, tongue claiming your mouth. With a groan, he pulls you by your waist until you’re straddling him. You can feel how hard he is already, his clothed cock pressing against your aching core.

Your hips grind against him, seeking friction to quell the aching between your thighs, moaning into the kiss as you feel his cock twitch in response. His grip tightens on your waist, moving your hips faster in time to his own grind against you. It should feel silly to be dry humping like desperate teenagers but hearing Mingyu’s whimpers and his body reacting to yours is intoxicating. Without giving it much thought you’re clawing at his shirt to get it off him, tugging at the material until you’re forced to break apart to take it off. He returns the favor and rids you of your shirt, eyes locked on yours, lips swollen from kissing—he looks downright sinful.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” He asks.

“I need to know if you’re full of shit so, yeah, I’m down.”

Mingyu chuckles and rolls his eyes; he grabs you by the back of the knee and before you can protest you’re on your back. He hovers over you, slotting between your legs with ease. You can feel him, hot and heavy against your core; you can’t help but roll your hips up to seek more, making him hiss and tut at you.

“I’m not surprised that you’re an impatient little brat. Sadly, you’re going to have to wait. I have a point to prove.”

Before you can retort, Mingyu shuts you up with a searing kiss. His hand moves down your side to still your hips, squeezing you once in a warning. You groan into his mouth, your hands sliding up his back to drag your nails down his skin. He shivers against you and you love how you can affect him just as much as he does you.

He starts trailing sloppy kisses down your jaw, stopping to nip just behind your ear, making you gasp and whimper. He smirks against your skin as he continues his way down with other small kisses, bites and soothing licks. You’re panting by now, core throbbing with need with every touch of his lips on your hot skin. His hands expertly snake behind your back until they reach your bra clasp, undoing it with the ease of someone who’s had the practice. You shimmy the straps down your arms and toss the garment aside.

You half expect him to attack you like some kind of over-excited teenager but he doesn’t; he drinks in your form with an almost reverent awe, making you shiver. Mingyu smirks when he catches you watching him, huffing a laugh before kissing you again.

It’s too brief of a kiss, his lips leave yours to trail down the column of your neck as he makes his way down to your breasts. He eagerly sucks a pebbled nipple into his mouth with a groan as his other hand kneads at your other breast. Your back arches in response, soft moans making way to more desperate whimpers and pleads when he tugs playfully on your nipple.

“You sound so pretty like that. Can’t wait to hear you come for me,” he mumbles against your skin as he makes his way over to your other breast.

Your only response is another strangled groan as you tangle your fingers in his hair to tug him closer. Not that you need to because he doesn’t seem to have anywhere else to be; he takes his time licking and sucking on your sensitive buds, never neglecting either breast as he moans along with you. He’s painfully hard against your cunt, cock twitching every time his name leaves your lips, he grinds into you as he ravishes you and it’s nearly driving you over the edge. You’re starting to get overstimulated, half-crazed and desperately wet when you finally beg for mercy.

“Gyu, please, please, I need you. Please,” you breathe as your legs wrap around him.

Mingyu looks up at you, lips deliciously swollen and dark, and laughs. For a moment, you think he’s going to shrug and ignore you but he doesn’t. He sits up and starts tugging your shorts and panties off, you lift yourself off the couch to help him take them off and pretty soon they’re somewhere on the living room floor.

He looks at you, eyes dark with need and runs his hand down your stomach, caressing your skin until he reaches where you need him most. You gasp as his finger dips between your folds, finding your swollen clit and circling it gently as he watches the way his hand moves. You watch him as he sucks in a breath and bites his lip, mesmerized that he’s just so into you. Your lids flutter closed with a groan when he slips a finger inside you, pressing it against your front wall until you’re grinding your hips into his hand with pathetic mewls and whimpers of his name.

Stars explode behind your eyes when he adds another finger, moving them in and out in time with each roll of your hips, scissoring you open for him. He’s moaning with you, low grunts of appreciation every time your walls squeeze around his fingers and how good he sounds is making the room spin and your release draw closer. Mingyu doesn’t miss a beat, using his other hand to circle your clit until you’re gripping the side of the couch and chanting his name like it’s the only word you know how to say, your climax bursting through you in quick waves. You’re left panting and floaty on the couch, but not for long.

“Turn around,” he growls as he undoes the tie on his sweatpants.

You oblige, flipping over and getting on all fours, backing your hips up until they met his. You notice he’s still wearing clothes and you pout, grinding against him until he grabs your waist and stops you.

“Can you learn to be just a little bit patient? I’m enjoying the view,” he teases as he grabs a handful of your ass.

“I promise the view is better once you’re fucking me. I’ll let you smack my ass, too just so you can prove yourself.”

This earns you a huffed laugh from him and soon you can feel his hard cock sliding between your folds, teasing your clit before lining up with your entrance, hands gripping your waist. He’s still long enough that you open your mouth to say something but just as you’re about to say something he finally penetrates you, sliding inside you slow enough to make your shiver as he stretches your walls.

Mingyu sucks in a breath through clenched teeth when he bottoms out, gripping you tighter like he knows that you already want to start moving, craving the sweet friction of him. Your walls pulse around him and you both moan; your head drops forward as you whine, circling your hips despite his hold on you.

“This is so much better than what I imagined. You feel so fucking amazing,” he groans as he starts rocking his hips, slowly, like he’s wanting to savor it.

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about this, too. Not like this though but it’s fine,” you reply with a smirk.

Mingyu stills, you can hear the head tilt in his voice. “Oh? Like how then?”

“Mmmm…you’re usually fucking me faster, harder. But if this is more your speed–oh fuck–”

He smacks your ass before gripping your hips again, picking up his pace until the room fills with the lewd sounds of his hips slamming into you repeatedly. He’s angled himself perfectly, each thrust in hitting your front wall hard enough that you’re breathless and dizzy, the rope in your belly already impossibly tight. You’re gripping the couch cushions for dear life, moaning his name every time his palm connects with the soft flesh of your backside, stars beginning to float in your vision as your walls start to clench around him.

“You gonna come already, baby? You talked such big game about taking me hard, what happened? Too much?” he coos as he continues to fuck you relentlessly.

The only thing you can respond with is a drawn out whine as he continues to fuck you, deep thrusts that hit exactly where you need. You can’t string words–let alone thoughts–together to retort, all you can manage is pathetic begging and pleading for more. Mingyu’s happy to oblige, hands gripping your ass cheeks as he kneads them to ease some of the sting from earlier. You start meeting his thrusts, lost in the feeling of him filling you completely, incoherent praises and pleas falling from your lips as your release draws closer.

“That’s it baby, feels so good. Keep fucking yourself like that, wanna feel you come around my cock,” Mingyu groans as his fingers find your neglected clit to rub tight, fast circles.

You come, eyes squeezed shut as fireworks burst in your vision, your body shaking with every contraction that rolls up from your toes and crashes over you. If it wasn’t for Mingyu holding you up against him as he fucks you through it, you’d collapse onto the couch from the dizzying release that rocks through you. He’s not far behind, hips jerking erratically as he tries to prolong your pleasure, deep moans and pathetic whimpers falling from his lips as he pumps into you wildly.

He pulls out without warning, the emptiness a little jarring as he groans behind you, hand on your ass to stop you from moving. You feel the warm ropes of his come against your skin as he groans your name breathlessly between deep moans.

He’s up before you have time to make a comment about your situation, disappearing into the bathroom down the hall and coming back with a washcloth.

“Sorry I didn’t ask, felt it was a better option than the alternative,” he comments as he wipes you down.

“I’m on birth control but I guess you wouldn’t know. Thanks for uh, cleaning up the mess for me.”

“Would be rude if I didn’t, you know? Anyway, hope that you believe me now,” Mingyu chides with a smile.

“I’m not convinced, if I’m honest. I’ll need further research to come to a clear conclusion,” you say as you get up to get dressed.

“Oh, you’ll be coming, alright.”

#mingyu imagine #mingyu smut #mingyu fic #mingyu x reader #svt smut #svt imagine #svt fic #fic

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ann1-wr1tes · 3 months

Text

Leon Kennedy NSFW Alphabet

Dynamics: RE4! Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Spicy Alphabet

Warnings: Adult themes, obviously smut

A/N: Hey Leon simps...hope ya'll enjoy! Also if anyone wants to request any other characters for an alphabet, let me know!

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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

-Leon is very good at aftercare. He always makes sure that you are comfy and well cared for. He'll run you both a warm shower and he honestly just likes to take his time, washing your body and making sure you are well cared for and clean. His favorite part is when he finally gets to lay back in bed with you and relax as you drift off to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-Leon loves your whole body honestly. If he had to pick one thing he'd probably say your hands. He likes to hold them and kiss them and its just something that's so grounding to him when he's fucking you and he intertwines his fingers with yours.

-On himself I think he'd be particularly proud of arms. He knows he's got some muscle on them and it just makes him feel strong.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-Leon would probably prefer something simple like your stomach if not inside a condom. If he has to pull out, he doesn't like making too big of a mess so your stomach will do.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-He's always wanted to wake you up with a little surprise. Whether that be waking you up with head, fingering you, or fucking you awake. Its just something about how pretty you look when you're sleeping next to him and you have your ass pressed against his dick...

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

-Since this is taking place around RE!4 he doesn't have a lot of experience. Of course he's not nearly as clueless as he was in RE!2 but he's too busy to have that much experience under his belt. Luckily he's a quick learner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

-He likes it simple. Missionary or maybe Doggy-style. Missionary is just perfect, he can gauge all your reactions and see how you feel when he looks at your face and its just perfect. Doggy-style is nice when he presses his chest against your back and he gets to be as close to you as possible. His arms would be wrapped around your waist as he rolls his hips into yours.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

-Not too goofy but he may crack a few horrible jokes here or there. He wants to keep the mood light and not too serious.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

-Not too messy, not completely bare. Given his line of work and very limited amount of time he has at home, I think he tries his best to stay as well groomed as possible but he leaves a little bit and has a nice happy trail.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

-In the moment he an get very sucked up into all the emotions and the feelings that happen during sex. His life is hard and he rarely ever gets to take the time to unwind so sometimes it can be emotional for him and he just wants to show you how appreciative he is.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

-Oh absolutely. When he's off on the other side of the world, away from you he's got to have some way to relieve stress. Its not that frequent but he does it often enough late at night when he's thinking of you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

-Definitely has a praise kink. He wants to hear how good he is doing for you, how good he is making you feel, and if you happen to tell him how strong he is or how handsome he looks then he might just cum right then and there...

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

-Usually at home in bed, but there have been a few instances where he has enjoyed some shower sex. You two just wanted to spend some time together after he got home from a mission and he couldn't help himself when he saw soap running down your skin and your pretty body standing there in front of him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

-Just you in general. He loves everything about you and god does he think you're hot. You barely even have to do anything to get him hard. You could probably give him a few good kisses and he'd start to get heated.l

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-No guns, no knives, and I don't think he'd be huge into choking. Anything that could hurt you is a definite no for him. I also don't think he'd into the whole "daddy" thing..it kinda just weirds him out-

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

-He prefers giving. Its one of his ways he likes to show you how much he loves and appreciates you. Just having you lay back and spread your legs is one of his favorite things.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

-Steady. Not too fast, not too slow. He likes to get the job done but not rush it too much. Of course if you want it rougher/faster he'd be happy to oblige and there are moments when he's feeling more emotional or soft so he'll be a bit softer and slow then.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

-He doesn't mind them. Sometimes he'll get a call for work and he'll have to leave soon but he wants to fuck you on last time before he goes. I feel like it'd be a common thing between you too.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

-He's neutral on taking risks. He's pretty much down for anything you'd like to try, so long as its within reason. But if you want to experiment then he's more than happy to give it a try with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-Leon has good stamina but the poor boy is tried most of the time. I think he'd be able to give you a good few long rounds before passing out lmao-

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

-He doesn't own any toys himself but if you had some and wanted to use them he'd be happy to. I think he'd be more eager to use them on you but if you convince him you'd probably be able to use a vibrator on him or maybe a cock ring-

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-Doesn't tease at all. He's very giving and generous while having sex and he loves to make you feel good.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

-Not too loud but not quiet. I'd say he's somewhere in the middle. He'll let out a few good groans and maybe some moans if you get him feeling really good.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

-He loves it when you wear his clothes. Whether that be an oversized shirt or his jacket, its just something about seeing you in his clothes that gets him going.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-Definitely a grower. Leon when he's soft is a good 6.5 inches and when he's hard, he gets to a whole 7.5 inches. When hard his dick tilts slightly to the left but has one of two prominent veins running up his shaft.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

-Pretty high honestly. He's always pent up from his job and stressed so one of the best ways he can relieve himself it by fucking you. Plus he just loves you and can't seem to get enough of you so his sex drive is decently high.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

-He tries to stay up long enough for you to fall asleep first but sometimes he's just so worn out that he either falls asleep with you or a little before you.

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil smut #leon kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy #leon x reader #leon s kennedy #leon smut #resident evil x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil headcanons #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy re4 #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy resident evil

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fleshbride · 7 months

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PRESENTING . . . HOUSE OF BALLOONS!

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ SITUATIONSHIP GETO SUGURU X F!READER

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ CW : extreme toxicity; possessiveness; stalking; relationship sabotage; obsession; suguru is CRAZY, bro is an actual mastermind; reader cheats on her bf w/ suguru; consensual recording; manipulation; reader is a bit dumb; pet names used are baby, dollface, minx, lovely, angel; smut; dry humping, throat fucking, throat bulging, fingering, ruined orgasms, breeding kink, baby trapping, a mix of degradation and praise, breath play, slight bondage, edging & overstimulation, dumbification, sado-madochism, pain play, branding (suguru puts a cigarette out on reader three times as a way of claiming), cervix fucking, sir kink, HINTS of somnophilia (brief description of suguru fucking reader while she’s asleep); dick drunk reader; suguru has a dick piercing; pregnancy.

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ wc : 8.3k

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ guys this is actually so nasty and feral, im so so so sorry. this is based off that jjk men loyalty post and suguru was placed in the middle because he would situationship the FUCK out of you. and worse? i’d probably fall for it and do it too. so then i wrote an entire fucking fic. and i’m so so sorry because this is actually pure filth. i don’t know what happened to me guys… suguru is just actually so nghh

A SITUATIONSHIP WITH SUGURU GETO is essentally the same as signing a contract giving away the rest of your life. because once you entered it, you were no longer able to get out. it started sweet, of course. suguru was good to you, despite not being your boyfriend. maybe that was what caused the sources of your problems.

you wanted to date suguru and the both of you knew it. despite the fact that you acted like a couple — kissing, going out together, having sex, even saying that dreaded l-word — you two didn’t have an official relationship. and it genuinely drove you insane. especially when suguru got a little too close with girls, knowing your attachment to him.

you told yourself that you couldn’t really be mad because you weren’t dating. so, you started doing the same thing, expanding your options.

and suguru didn’t like that very much.

you two often had explosive arguments that either went one of two ways; one of you blocking the other and severing communication or the desperate confessions of love to keep each other around.

and when he gets blocked, it doesn’t take suguru long to contact you somehow or someway. whether it be following you on a different account, or going as far as showing up to your home, he gets to you again.

it’s an endless cycle that constantly leaves you overwhelmed and emotionally drained. the intense love you have for suguru is undeniable. it’s undeniable in the way you let him back, the way you willingly go back.

every time you hit that unblock button, your friends look at you with concern and express their disappointment, warning you that he isn't good for you.

and deep down, you know they're right. of course, you're aware of the potential harm and negative consequences. but can't they understand the depth of your emotions? you’re in love with him. over time, your friends gradually stop shaking their heads in disapproval. instead, they simply roll their eyes when his name is brought up in conversation. it’s as if they've given up on trying to convince you otherwise.

however, suguru soon reaches his final chance, when you find out he’s been fucking one of your friends. this time, there’s no argument. you’re swift, blocking every one of his socials you know, deleting & blocking his number. that was it. you were free.

a year passes by, and you’re sure you’ve moved on. you got a new boyfriend, who’s sweet, and so dedicated to you. suguru hasn’t tried to contact you, even though he’d never be able to. you move from your college dorm, to live with your devoted boyfriend, you get a new job at a local cafe. you’ve never been happier, and everything is going so good for you.

almost too good.

suguru is a dedicated man, which you had seemed to forget. the entire time you thought he had left you alone, that he too had moved on; well, you were wrong.

moving didn’t hide you from him, even if you thought it did. he eventually found out from one of your friends, and you. you may have blocked some of his instagram accounts, but not all.

you often posted the scenery of your new area. and your boyfriend. it wasn’t hard to pinpoint you from there. you also posted about working at a cafe. so he searched up the cafes in the area — it couldn’t be too far, because he knew you weren’t a fan of driving long distances.

it gave him three options.

three different cafes. so here’s how he found you; it really wasn’t hard. he put on a mask over his nose and mouth, tucked his long dark hair into his hoodie. he went to the first cafe, and he asked a simple question. “is y/n on the clock today? she’s the only one who makes my order correctly.”

from the first two, he got a, “y/n? we don’t have an employee by that name.”

but the third one, god it must’ve been luck. because when he asked, he got the most blissful answer.

“y/n? oh, she works from 8am - 2pm on saturdays and sundays, but she works from 2pm to 8pm on mondays, tuesdays and thursdays.”

that was so much more than he bargained for, but god was he ecstatic. she told him your schedule? that coworker must’ve had it out for you, or something. but who was he to question her and her helpfulness?

what he had to do was obvious from there. he began to frequent your job on the days you worked, however only when you had just left.

he kept it this way, until that faithful day.

it was his usual routine. he had came to the cafe on sunday, at 2:30pm. you should’ve been long gone by now, so he thought. but there you were, working the register, with a sweet smile on your face and a bedazzled name tag on your breast.

you’re even more beautiful in person, he realizes. those eye bags you used to have faded away, and your smile is bright. you’re as perfect as he left you. only problem? you allowed yourself to be stained by another man. but it was okay, suguru assumed — he’d clean you up.

he doesn’t hesitate to get in the line to buy something, even though it’s so rare when he does. he comes to the counter with eyes and shaky breaths, acting like he’s just as surprised to see you.

your eyes are as wide as saucers when you finally set on him. you didn’t see him immediately come through the door, so you didn’t see him for a while… until there were only two people in front of him in the line.

you were internally panicking and screaming, your heart beating so fast you thought it may crack one of your ribs . how did he find you? what does he want? and beyond that, how handsome he looked — however, you shoved these thoughts down. you had a boyfriend now, and you were never engaging with suguru again. simple as that.

“what’re you doing here?” he breathes out as he reaches the counter. you’re beyond shocked, eyes widening as you blink at him. “no, what are you doing here? i work here. you don’t even drink coffee.” and it’s true; in all your time together, suguru never touched a cup of coffee. he swallows, hard, and you wonder just exactly he’s thinking as he stares at you from underneath his thick lashes.

“i have… lately,” his voice is gentle, sad almost, “i come here daily for coffee. speaking of… can i get a large of straight black dark roast? with a dash of cream and sugar.” you nod and hastily go to make it. when you come back, he shifts, rocking side to side. “i want to apologize to you. for everything. can… can we talk when you get off?”

and you should’ve known better. you really should have. but you’re stupid enough to say yes.

he waits several hours for you; you tell him you’re working a double, and you’ll be closing the store. he doesn’t mind, it seems, especially when he helps you mop and clean, helping stack up chairs. it reminds you of how gentle suguru was with you. when it’s time to go, he questions, “you walk home?” when you nod, he scowls, obviously still slightly protective over you. it warms your heart, but you force it to freeze back over.

however, it remelts when he pushes you to the inside of the sidewalk, standing on the side closest to the street. “my boyfriend and i live around the block, so i just walk here and back. i never really get any trouble.” suguru hums; you’re setting that boundary early on.

i’ve moved on from you, you’re telling him subliminally, i’m with someone new. it’s funny that you think suguru cares.

the two of you are silent as you walk, and you find yourself questioning whether or not he’s going to apologize; or is he just using this opportunity to get close to you again? you get your answer when a few minutes later, he stops and turns to you.

“y/n,” his voice is husky and it’s cold enough that his exhalation of your name leaves a white mist, “i’m sorry, for everything. i was wrong to put you through those things. you’re such a sweet girl; you didn’t deserve it.” and a part of him means it, truly. he would’ve done things differently if he knew you were going to leave. “can we be friends? please?”

you feel the cold tears prick your eyes, and you nod, once, then twice. you sniff and whimper out a sweet, “yeah, suguru. we can be friends again.”

that’s your biggest mistake.

because now that you’ve allowed suguru in your life again, you’ve just given him the green light to do what he does best. spiral things into his control. he starts out with small things, starting with planting a seed of insecurity.

you had let him meet your boyfriend, at your boyfriend’s insistence, to prevent insecurity. his boyfriend knew all about suguru, so to say that he was a bit hostile was a bit of an understatement. suguru was the epitome of calm, all kind smiles towards your boyfriend. it was almost… embarrassing for you. your boyfriend was almost childish; when you cooked for the three, and your boyfriend set the table, he refused to get a plate for suguru. suguru took it in stride, however, only laughing it off. this was damn near perfect for suguru; he was going to lie, but your boyfriend was so fucking stupid, he basically laid out the soil for suguru’s seeds.

what’s worse was the fact that suguru is both taller and more muscular than your boyfriend; and whenever suguru stood and looked down at him, your boyfriend would jeer. later, your beloved expressed his slight inferiority. you did your best to reassure him, but anytime you mentioned suguru, he seemed to bristle. ‘it isn’t like that,’ you’d plead to him, with hands out, ‘we’re just becoming friends again, i swear!’

of course, you’d eventually go to tell suguru that you had to distance, in order to preserve your relationship.

he was understanding, yes, but not without a, “why doesn’t he trust you enough to let us be friends?” and maybe that stuck with you a bit. a week later, suguru drops off two plates of your favorite food. he says he was making it, and thought you’d enjoy the meal. he even brought a plate for your boyfriend. you’re ecstatic — as the meal isn’t one you often find in stores, and when you do, it isn’t cook to the fullest. however, while the two of you were … engaging, suguru learned to make it perfectly.

you’re all smiles and cheers, while your boyfriend is livid. suguru doesn’t overstay his welcome and departs with a smile and a nice goodbye for you both.

the argument ensues from there.

“i thought you cut him off?” your boyfriend asks you, his voice snappy and filled with anger. you raise your eyebrows, still holding the two plates in your hands as you move to the kitchen. you reply,”you didn’t ask me to. you told me to distance, and i did. me and suguru haven’t talked much at all since then.”

“then why is he dropping off food for you?” your boyfriend shoots back, almost immediately. you place the food on the counter and turn to him, feeling your irritation simply growing and growing. “for us, you mean,” you correct sassily, furrowing your eyebrows, “it would be different if the food was only for me. but there’s some for you too. he was being thoughtful.”

“why can’t you so obviously see that he’s a manipulative asshole?” your boyfriend yells as he throws his hands up, pacing around the couch. “how dim are you? he did it while you two were fucking around, and he’s doing it now! i don’t want you to be friends with him anymore.”

you’re bubbling over. so he’s calling you stupid now? you feel your irritation shift into anger instead. “you don’t get to tell me who i can and can’t be friends with because of your own fucking insecurities. you don’t get to do that shit, you don’t get to make something out of nothing. and most of all, you don’t get to throw my past experiences that i trusted you with into my fucking face.” you’re grabbing your food, and your coat simultaneously.

“wait, where are you going?” your boyfriend asks, his voice suddenly dropping from a yell to a concerned croon. your shoving your arm into a coat sleeve as you huff, “somewhere to cool off. you’ve pissed me off and now i don’t even want to be in this fucking house.”

your boyfriend wants to protest, but he doesn’t. he purses his lips, and he nods, before mumbling out a, “be safe. keep your location on, please?”

begrudgingly, you nod, before leaving.

of course, you end up at geto’s. you’re venting your frustrations as you eat the meal he prepared. it hadn’t even been an hour since he dropped off the food, and here you were. it’s how he knew that his plans were working, and god was he ecstatic. of course, he couldn’t seduce you right here and now, no. it’s much too early. he has to keep throwing the rock at the window, over and over. until it finally breaks.

this throw is only a crack in your window.

those arguments begin to happen more frequently, suguru’s large crack gives way to more and more little cracks, until you’re at your wits end. you’re not gonna break up with your boyfriend yet, but you’re starting to get aggravated. suguru figures it’s time for him to implement his plan.

you’re laying on his couch after an explosive argument between you and your boyfriend about geto seemingly “flirting” with you: suguru had bought tickets for the ballet for all three of you; your boyfriend refused to go, falling right into suguru’s trap. you were aggravated with him — he denied every opportunity to actually make sure no flirting would happen and denied. then got mad at you for enjoying yourself. but you wouldn’t allow that, tonight. you went to see the ballet with suguru, and honestly the two of you had a wonderful time.

but then, your dress had ripped so suguru held it together until the two of you got into the car. you had walked into the house, suguru shuffling behind you and your boyfriend went ballistic, claiming that suguru ripped it himself.

now, suguru didn’t even plan this one — but your boyfriend was just so good at being a little helper. while suguru watched the argument awkwardly, trying his best to ‘deescalate’ the argument, while intentionally making it worse. you ended up leaving with suguru, ripped dress and all.

now here you are, sitting on his couch, with tears streaming down your beautiful made-up face. suguru’s cooing to you through your distress, giving your back gentle rubs. “he’s such a dick, y/n,” suguru murmurs as you blubber out your frustrations, “i can’t believe he got so worked up… it’s starting to piss me off, too. i even bought a ticket for him to come with us.”

you let out a cry of agreement, going, “which was so nice of you! he complains about us being alone but never come when he’s invited! it’s so… so…!”

“hypocritical,” he finishes for you, pulling you to lean on his shoulder. you comply, even when his hand slides to rub at your hips. “i wasn’t the greatest, but… god, even i didn’t do you like that. didn’t he call you stupid or something a week ago? i actually don’t think i’ve ever done that.” he laughs it off like a joke, but watches your reaction carefully.

the words have you thinking back. no, suguru hadn’t ever called you stupid. when he started getting jealous, he never put you in situations to be jealous over. he was never childish like your boyfriend… your brows furrow and you pout, hesitantly nodding. suguru smiles; it’s working. he takes this a sign to keep talking.

“and i noticed that like… he barely posts you. like you have a highlight for him on insta, and he doesn’t have one for you,” he begins, continuing to caress your skin, before pulling a pack of his favorite cigarettes out of his pocket. “and i don’t mean to infringe on your relationship, y/n.. it’s just weird to me. considering that i had a highlight for you even when we weren’t dating.”

you pause, lightly leaning into suguru’s touch. he’s not wrong… in fact, he’s very right. your boyfriend always told you that he didn’t post you a lot because he didn’t want people in your relationship business. you had accepted it at the time, but now suguru’s words had you questioning.

“am i overstepping?” suguru asks gently, his hand still rubbing your hip, pulling you into him as he exhales cigarette smoke. his dark violet eyes focus on you, and you examine his features, like you used to do before.

his long hair is pulled into his trademark half-up half-down style. slim eyes looking down at you with an all too familiar glaze. his angular, perfect features that had to been crafted by god. he’s… he’s so much prettier… you curse yourself for even thinking it, but he’s so much prettier than your boyfriend. he licks his lips as he watches you watch him. his head tilts slightly.

“maybe your boyfriend wasn’t wrong, though,” he says, voice husky — it sends unwanted shivers down your spine. “maybe i haven’t been exactly appropriate to you. maybe i do want you back.”

you swallow hard, slight shock flooding you. you expected it but didn’t at the same time. even though all those times you vented and brought up how your boyfriend was convinced suguru wanted you, suguru never confirmed or denied. only soothed you.

you don’t know what to say, or how you feel but you know it’s wrong. “n-no, suguru,” you force yourself to say, “it’s wrong. a-and you already had a chance. so many chances.” your scooting away, but suguru is pulling you back to him.

his lips press against your ear as he whispers, “c’mon, baby… please? i learned my lesson. i can’t bare to see another man treat you like this, when i know… we both know… i have my problems, but i can treat you so much better.” you’re trying to pull away, but your body and your heart is too familiar with suguru. you ache, despite knowing that it’s wrong. it’s cheating.

“suguru, i-i can’t cheat..!” you whimper pathetically, and suddenly, he’s pushing you down onto the couch, sliding on top of you. you moan, as you feel him press against you, cursing yourself.

“there it is,” suguru hisses, lifting his cigarette to his wet lips again, “moaning just based off that? he hasn’t been fucking my girl right, now has he?”

“not your girl..!” you gasp as he presses hot, open mouth kisses onto your neck. you protest out of guilt, but god, you don’t stop him.

because just like he said, you both know. your boyfriend couldn’t, in no way, compared to suguru geto.

“not my girl?” suguru whispers as he kisses up your jawline, “you sure? because you’re gasping and whining out like you are. you’ve always been mine, y/n. you know you have. let me take care of you, baby. come back home.”

there’s an ache in your pussy, and you’re sure that it’s your sexual organ talking when you whine, “okay, suguru, j-just please… please fuck me.” the need you feel overwhelms the guilt as suguru presses his clothed dick against you.

you can feel him, pressing against you through your panties, and the squeal you let out makes suguru laugh. he’s sliding you up with one hand and into his lap. he hikes your dress up to your hips and you think he’s going to take you right then and there; but no. instead he presses you down against his crotch, forcing you to get off on the feeling of his covered dick simply pressing against you.

“s-suguru! c’mon, give me more, please!” you mewl as you grip his broad shoulders desperately. you watch as he lifts his cigarette to his lips. “nuh uh,” he says as he exhales, “you’re going to pay for leaving me for some bitch who can’t even fuck you right. ride me jus’ like this, y/n. and don’t stop until i say so.”

and unfortunately, you’re obedient and desperate for any shred of stimulation you can get. you began grinding your hips down against suguru through his slacks, his hardened dick rubbing against your pussy through your panties. you’re so wet that you begin to gush through the thin cotton of your panties, dripping onto suguru’s slacks in a puddle.

you don’t say anything however, yearning for the intense pleasure that suguru always gave you. that year away from suguru must’ve made you forget; nobody will ever fuck you as good as he does.

he watches as you clutch onto him, pathetically grinding and shaking your hips down onto your lap, whining as your panties rub against your clit just right. in a few minutes or so, you’re even ready to cum. suguru has your habits memorized when you were close, and that hasn’t changed.

you still tremble, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. your eyes cross a little and your back arches. suguru grins. oh, you’re so close, aren’t you?

“stop.”

he chuckles darkly, and when you don’t listen the first time, he pulls you off of him. you let out a mix of a sob and a moan, your face twisting into something pitiful. “suguru!” you wail, fat tears spilling over. “i was so fucking close! why would you do that?”

suguru gracefully puts you on the floor between his legs, laughing at your plight. “oh, i never said you’d cum, dollface. i just told you to do it. but it’s okay, my dumb girl. ‘m gonna reward you a different way.” he begins unbuttoning the slacks as you perch between his legs. he’s rolling the black pants down his thighs, along with his boxers and there it is.

his dick bounces free. it’s long, and has a nasty curve upwards. he’s thick too — scarily so. his tip is fat and a perfect round shape. it’s a dark tan, a few shades darker than his skin. and it’s decorated with a silver reverse prince albert piercing. precum slides out, a silky white color. you feel drool collect in your mouth as his dick hovers above you.

“you know what to do,” suguru tells you with an expectant look, his cigarette perched perfectly between his lips, “open your mouth and let me use you. uh huh, just like that lovely, stick out that tongue…” you do as he tells you, hands on his knees as you lean up; tongue out, eyes locked with suguru’s.

he slaps his dick on your tongue a few times, before he slides his length into your mouth. immediately, your lips enclose around him. his hand laces into your hair, using it as leverage to pull your head down his length. you gag fiercely around him, hands moving from his knees to his thighs, digging into his skin.

suguru smokes his cigarette with hazy eyes as he pushes your head down his dick, and back up. the noise your throat makes when his tip hits your uvula is wet and messy, and god does he love it.

your slobbing down his length, your spit trickling down his balls; your eyes are filled with tears, a few even spilling over. however, your plump lips stay wrapped around him. you suck your cheeks in and gaze up at him, submission coating your every movement. your tongue slides against the glands on his dick, making him let out a soft groan.

“take this dick down your throat just like that, whore, fuck,” he rasps to you, his movements becoming a little more aggressive, “did you suck on him like this? lookin’ up at me all pretty. bet you didn’t suck his dick like you needed it; didn’t show him how much of a fucking whore you are, hm?” he puts his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table, and then he slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “i think we should. is that okay?” as best as you can, you nod, still swallowing up his dick.

suguru is on his phone for a few seconds, before laughing out, “ha! he texted me. he wants me to bring you fuckin’ home. too bad; you’re already home, right, baby?” of course, you don’t answer. your mouth is too stuffed full of his dick. suguru gets rougher then. his original languid pace is discarded, and he begins to push and pull himself out of your mouth. his tip rams against your uvula, before sliding into your throat. you’re choking for air, sputtering. he’s fucking your throat so cruelly, there’s a bulge in your throat every time he sheaths himself in your mouth.

you try to pull in air through your nose, but it’s too hard to focus when suguru is pressing your face into his pelvis, his heady scent filling you and making you dizzy. or was that just the lack of oxygen? you realize that he’s recording your pathetic display. you’re a fucking mess, pussy drooling as he ruins you.

“shiiit, angel,” he curses, head thrown back, and his locks messy around his shoulders. his bottom lip between his teeth, “gonna cum. gonna cum in your mouth, and you’re gonna swallow every fuckin’ drop, understand?”

you swirl your tongue around him, letting him know you’re ready. his thrusts become reckless, before he spills his load inside of your mouth. his cum tastes nice, as always — it has a slightly bitter tang to it, but you take it in stride. as he slides his softened dick out of your mouth, you open your mouth, letting your tongue loll out; showing him his cum coating your mouth.

his phone captures it all.

“is this your girlfriend?” he taunts the camera, grabbing your cheeks and bringing your mouth closer to the phone as cum dribbles down your chin. “look at her. that’s my cum. this is my girl.” you swallow his cum then, and suguru lets out a coo of, “good slut.” before he’s ending the video and sending it.

as soon as he releases your face, you’re sucking in big breaths of air, coughing and sputtering and wiping your eyes from the tears. he rubs your head while you do so, letting out soft coos of reasurance.

he sits back for a second, sliding his dick back into his slacks, before telling you, “go to my room and get undressed. i’ll be there in a minute.” he watches you nod and scamper up, going up the stairs to his room, your hips swaying.

suguru picks up his put out cigarette as he watches your boyfriend trip out about the video, both of your phones dinging with notifications. he lets out a laugh.

suguru always gets what he wants eventually, especially you.

he’s getting up to follow behind you then, pulling off his tie in the process. suguru can feel his own desperation and need for you setting in. it had been a year and a few months; in that time, he didn’t engage much in sex and romantic relationships. none of them were you.

and even now, when he gets to his room and you’re sat on his bed, eyes soft and legs slightly spread as you wait for him, he knows.

none of them will ever be you.

suguru stares at you, almost unnervingly as he walks into the room, leaning against the wall. it makes you self-conscious, curling into yourself as you press your hands against your body to shield yourself.

“don’t.” suguru says, and he walks to you, grabbing your arms. “i need to see all of you.” before you could even respond, he’s wrapping his tie around your wrists.

“suguru?” you question gently as the black fabric wraps around your hands, keeping you bound. suguru shushes you, before picking you up and moving you to the top of the bed. “shh, lovely. i gotta fuck those thoughts of your ‘boyfriend’ out of you. so you’re gonna be a good whore and you’re gonna take it. understood?”

“yes sir,” you whisper as he lays you down, before his hands are spreading your thighs, to reveal your pretty pussy; soaked with your self-lubrication. you move your bound hands to cover yourself, but suguru knocks them away. “put your hands away, what’re you covering yourself for? i know your body like the back of my hand.”

and he’s right, so you try your best to relax. your tensity is immediately forgotten when he puts a finger on your clit, rubbing slow circles against it. you shiver and let out a dulcet moan, a lovely sing of, “suguru— mnngh, fuck..” he takes so much pride in the way he makes you feel, the way he makes you cry out and arch your back just due to his finger rubbing against your clit.

“shh, dollface,” suguru says as he sits between your legs, spreading them more. his large hand wraps around your calf to put your leg up. his finger trails from your clit to your sopping hole, before sliding two fingers inside.

the stretch from just two of suguru’s fingers had you letting out mellifluous moans, squirming in his hold. he held you still while he pushed his fingers inside of you until they were knuckle deep, thumb pressing against your clit.

suguru was slow and methodical with the way he fingered you; sliding his fingers out slowly just to thrust them back in a fast pace, fingertips curling against your warm, gummy walls. your slick was dripping down onto his palm as he rocked his finger into you.

you were his mess, letting out whines as his long, thick fingers scissored inside of you, pressing against your g-spot. “he couldn’t get you like this, now could he?” suguru asked as he pressed his fingers against your g-spot again, making you squeal. you didn’t answer at first, but when he added a third finger inside of you, hissing out, “fucking answer me.” you were quick to babble out, “no, sugu! no, no, no, he could never get me like this… only you, only you!”

suguru chuckles in satisfaction as he watches you struggle to hold on to the sheets with your bound wrists. “fuckin’ slut,” he muses, “cheating on your boyfriend like some fucking whore who can’t keep her legs closed.” he tuts, and shame floods through you; however, it’s eradicated by the way he curls his fingers against your g-spot, his quick but precise thrusting hitting it every time. your juices are all over his hand, sloppy noises echoing through the room. the way suguru looks at you has your heart beating in your fucking ovaries.

you’re close, euphoria is spreading through your body and your stomach is tightening. your pussy is contracting around suguru’s fingers as you whimper, “i’m sorry…! sorry for bein’ a slut, sir.”

“i forgive you,” he laughs a little bit, as your eyes roll back. “you’re my slut, of course. you’ll always belong to me; always be mine, no matter where you go.” right as your pussy begins to spasm around him, and your body begins to twitch, eyes rolling back again — he slides his fingers out of you.

the sob you let out is tremendous, bordering on a scream. suguru only watches as you sob, fat tears rolling down your already ruined face as you sob out different variations of ‘why?’ and ‘i wanted to cum!’ through your tears as you glare up at him. suguru only watches your pathetic, desperate display as he begins to fully undress. his eyebrow raised as he watches you, slightly smirking. you’re so cute, so desperate for him. he loves when you get like this.

by the time he’s fully naked, you’re facedown into the blankets, still whimpering, your sobs slowing. suguru wants to laugh, but he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. he crawls on the bed towards you, grabbing you and turning you over onto your back. you look up at him with teary eyes as he hovers above you. your bound hands reaches up, and you mange to press the back of your hand to his cheek. oh, how you missed this sight.

your hands sneak to his hair, and you pull out his ponytail. his hair falls around his shoulders, and he smiles at you; a genuine smile, and you can tell by the way his eyes crinkle. he leans down, sliding his lips against yours as his hand wraps around your throat loosely. suguru tastes like sweet cigarettes, like a mix of nicotine and love and sex. you don’t know how else to describe it.

“missed you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you feverishly. you try your best to keep up with his insistent lips, as his tongue curls against the roof of your mouth.

“m-missed you more,” you rasped back against his lips.

you guys are pulling away occasionally to gaze at each other sweetly at his other hand trails down your body, caressing you wherever he can. he’s devouring your lips, hand slightly tightening on your neck. “love you, y/n,” he whispers, before continuing on like it was never said.

your heart pumps, and before you realize it, your lips are moving to say, “love you more, suguru,” you feel him grin into the kiss, and it becomes more desperate. it’s messy, the way he kisses you — the way he laps at your mouth and begs for more of you, all of you.

you can’t help but give.

his tip rubs against your hole, his piercing cold against your heat. on instinct, you let out a slight hiss at the feeling. he shushes you gently, as he pushes his hips forward slowly. the stretch of him has your head falling back, and your eyes rolling. your mouth falls open in an o, but you’re unable to make a noise, as if he’s snatched it out of you.

pain mixes with pure pleasure as he feeds your greedy cunt inch after inch of him. your body is trembling as you feel his piercing scratch your g-spot, making you gasp out, before said piercing is nudging your cervix. his curved dick has you going insane, hitting spots you forgot you had. above you, suguru is as much of a mess as you are.

he’s panting, irises so dilated that it’s just black with a ring of dark violet. one hand is gripping your hips, the other squeezing your throat as he spears you on his dick, soft moans escaping his lips. “fuck, angel,” he groaned as he threw his head back, “missed this pussy s’much. you’re taking me so well, look…” you manage to look down, watching as suguru pulls out of you before snapping his hips into yours.

the single, experimental thrust has you seeing stars. your tied hands are pushed above your head by suguru and he holds your hands, keeping them there. he pulls your legs to rest on his shoulders, and you blank. because now, the angle is different, and he’s pulling out and—

the rough thrust he blesses you with has you whimpering out his name, and that’s just the beginning. it doesn’t stop from there, no. he releases your hands, going to grip your throat again as he begins to stuff you full, slamming into you over and over.

that hand on your throat tightens just how you like it, until your noises are gasped and raspy, and there’s black spots swimming in your vision. this, paired with the way suguru pushes his hips into yours, bullying your pussy, has you teetering on the edge.

suguru knows this. he knows your body far too well, much more than you’d like. he knows that when he trails a hand down to your breasts, to pull and twist at your nipples like he does right now, it only shoves you closer to the edge. “don’t cum,” he whispers to you, “i didn’t even really get started, doll. don’t tell me you’re gonna cum just from a few strokes like this?” he smirks down at you, as his thrusts pause. the hand around your throat sliding up to rub his thumb on your bottom lip. the slight relief has you sucking in deep breaths, trying to regain your voice.

suguru decides to help you. he resumes his fierce thrusts, ripping a croaked cry of, “suguru—!” out of you. he picks up speed, jackhammering into you, and your nails dig into the palm of your hand as you’re forced to grip your own hands. he’s fucking you like this, and you’re supposed to not cum? his thrusts snatch the barely regained air out of your lungs, forcing more tears into your eyes.

your clit throbs painfully, your stomach tight as you try to hold on to the orgasm that is so close, too close to washing over you. “can’t control yourself?” suguru taunts from above you with a slight laugh, “fuck, baby, you’re a mess. got your fucking juices drippin’ down my balls,” he let out another chuckle, “pussy just clenched around me too. you like when i make fun of you, don’t you? masochistic cumwhore.” he grips your face, watching your tits bounce fiercely with every thrust.

“it huuuurts, sugu,” you whimper in an agonizingly sweet voice, “please let me cum, please, please, i can’t take it..! please, sir, it hurts…!”

“you love it when it hurts, though,” he tuts at you, his hair hanging in his face, and above you as he keeps up his thrusts. you let out a desperate, pained whine and he softens. just a little. but he doesn’t let you cum yet. instead, he leans down, lips pressed to your ear, “say you won’t leave me, ever again. say you won’t go anywhere.”

you know it’s a trap, but you fall into it anyways. “i won’t! i won’t leave you again, i promise, p-please just let me cum. i won’t go anywhere, i won’t ever have anyone else! j-just please…”

“cum.” suguru says one word, and immediately, you do. your eyes roll back, your body seizes, and your pussy clenches so impossibly tight around him that he can’t even pull out.

“shit—!” he hisses, hands gripping your hips. your clenching sends him over the edge too, his cum pumping into you. he didn’t mean to cum inside of you, no. but now it’s given him an idea. “fuckin’ minx, pussy clamped so hard on me, it had me cum in you,” he rasped as he pressed his lips to your sweaty skin.

you want to care, you really do. you want to panic and make a scene, but god, you don’t fucking care. the feeling of having his cum inside of you feels too good. you didn’t even let your boyfriend cum inside of you. should you be ashamed of yourself? you don’t know. actually, scratch that. once again, you don’t fucking care. all you can murmur is, “just… don’t do it again.”

you don’t care because your mind is foggy, the best kind of foggy. the orgasmic haze you’re in has you blissed out as you’re splayed across suguru’s bed.

suguru is marking you, biting, licking, sucking at your neck, collarbone and chest until they’re littered with reddish-purple hickeys, along with the hand print from him choking. if he’s going to bring you home to your boyfriend, he’s going to bring you back with a message. he grabs his cigarette and his lighter. he lights it, and takes a puff, before looking down at you. “this is gonna hurt,” he tells you, and you connect the dots immediately. you shake your head at him, but he shushes you. “be a good slut, and let me do this. don’t move, or it’s gonna hurt more.”

you go completely still, biting your lip as tears appear on your lash line. he softens when he sees you like this, scared. his hand presses against your face, trying to soothe you. even as he presses his cigarette against your collarbone. in order to distract you, he begins to thrust again. the pain and pleasure fight for dominance over your body, and you focus on the pleasure; even though the smell of your burning flesh fills the room. he puts out his cigarette two more times on your skin, before pressing kisses to the scars.

“i have to make sure that you, and everyone else, know that you belong to someone.” he whispers to you, still pressing kisses to the spot. you barely understand him though, because you feel like you’re fading. drowning in a sea of pleasure that he’s created.

his eyes lock on your bound hands, and the red mark around your wrists. he unties your hands, and you let out a garbled noise of relief. you watch as he presses kisses to your wrists, while still pumping his thick dick through your walls. you’re on the edge again, and suguru flicks at your clit, making you cum another time, your body twitching and your hands grabbing at his skin.

suguru’s close, too, and he knows what he has to do now.

suguru’s ideas are dangerous, but he finds it in him that he doesn’t care. he can’t trust your word that you’ll never leave. he can’t rely on just marking you. he’ll have to make sure that you’re unable to go anywhere, he’ll have to make sure that you need him.

he’ll have to knock you up.

it’s as simple as that. the simple idea of you swelled with his child has him reeling. suguru knows it’ll work. you don’t use birth control, because you don’t like the way it makes you gain weight, and you often forget to take the pill. and, he saw condoms and plan b’s at your house. it’s almost comical. suguru’s sure that you’d take his baby; but not your boyfriend’s.

the idea excites him even more and he grips your thighs, using his weight to push you into a mating press.

everything’s a blurry mess from there.

he’s slamming his hips into you with a regained fever, over and over and over. your heightened sensitivity is unable to take it, and you’re a squealing, whining mess with every move that he makes. your grasping at anything in your reach, mainly him and the bedsheets.

suguru folds you in half as he feels his own orgasm coming. “you’re gonna take every drop i give you, understand? don’t waste my cum, slut.” you want to tell him to wait, to cum on your stomach. but you don’t. you can barely think at all. instead, you lose control of your body as you cum right with him, as he shoots his load of thick cum straight to your womb.

you think he’s done, but no; instead he flips you over onto your hands and knees. he grips your throat from behind with both hands as he slams into you one more time. pumping and filling you, breeding you like some animal. you can barely moan anymore, animalistic whimpers and grunts escaping you instead as he slams his hips against the plush of your ass. suguru lets go of your neck to grip your hair, pushing your face into his pillows as you drool mindlessly, brain fucked away.

“helloooo…” he asks, teasing you purposely, “anyone in there?” when you don’t answer, he barks out a laugh. “look at you. gone stupid on my dick. i expected you to last longer. but no; you’re nothin’ but a dick hungry cumslut.” your body twitches and you make out some noise, resembling a ‘nooo…’, but suguru can’t tell.

“like it when i use you like this, hm? like it when i treat you like my fuckin’ cocksleeve, don’t you, y/n?” this time you manage to answer with a sweet ‘yes!’ and suguru smiles. you’re cumming again, sinking into the blankets with rasped moans. your throat is probably shredded from all the screaming you’ve been doing, but it’s okay.

it’s not long before suguru’s shooting his third load into you — or is it his fourth? you don’t remember, and neither does he.

you think it’s over, and maybe it is for approximately five to ten minutes. he gives both of you a break, and he presses kisses into your spine.

however, when he maneuvers you into a different position, you almost pass out. suguru isn’t done with you yet. the night continues like that, until the rosy fingers of dusk trickle into the room. he fucks you all fucking night, with a few breaks. he fucks you to sleep, and when you wake up, he’s still fucking you. a mix of your fluids soaks his bed, as he fucks load after load after load into you.

because suguru’s on a mission.

so when morning comes and he’s finally done using and abusing your body, he knows he’s succeeded. he scoops his cum off your thighs and stuffs it back into you, and right after he slides your panties back on, making sure it stays there.

soon after, when you wake again, he carries you to the bathroom, and he washes you up, still making sure that not too much of his cum slides out. he’s gentle with you, carrying you on his back around the house, driving you to get dunkin’ donuts for breakfast. the two of you completely ignore your phones, and the messages your boyfriend — well, ex-boyfriend left you two.

in fact, suguru does him one better. he arrives at the house with his arm around your waist and you nestled into his side. your ex-boyfriend is more than livid, more than furious, but he pales in comparison to suguru.

he screams at you, only once; because suguru is there to utter out a, “you yell at my girlfriend like that again, and i will fucking kill you.” and both you and your boyfriend are shocked. but suguru only nods to you, smiling gently as you hurry to collect everything you need. feminine products, clothes, jewelry. important things. anything you miss, suguru says you’ll get later. your boyfriend doesn’t utter a word after that single scream.

of course he texts you, ranging from angry to filled with despair. from “cheating fucking bitch” to “i’m sorry, i’ll do better, just please come home”. he’s soon blocked.

and when you miss your period the next month, you’re telling suguru. when the pregnancy test comes up positive and you’re looking up at him with a mix of shock, fear and excitement, he scoops you up into a kiss, murmuring about how he’s so happy.

because now you’re his forever.

812 notes · View notes

im-poe-dameron · 5 months

Text

THE HEART OF A SHIP

a/n: this fic is a result of wine and rewatching the force awakens. honestly my brain always short circuits whenever oscar isaac comes on screen. so i had to do something. it was meant to be small, but i literally couldn't stop writing so it became this. it's an idea that has been lingering in my head for awhile, i just had to let it simmer for a bit. and now it's fully cooked.

summary: you and poe were inevitable. two asteroids set on a course to crash into one another. a celestial event that would happen whether you wanted it or not. you just never expected it to happen so soon.

word count: 3.4k+

pairing: poe dameron x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, alcohol consumption, love confessions sort of??, poe being romantic as fuck, p in v sex, guided masturbation, biting, sex in an x-wing, sex in a public place, unedited but we live and die by the fucking pen.

Intoxicating.

That was the only way you’d describe him. The only word that ever did him justice. He was the human embodiment of an Antakarian Fire Dancer. You got hammered on it one year after two glasses of the amber liquid, proceeding to forget half the night yet eager for more. Nothing could describe the man before you better. It simply wouldn’t do him justice. He was the itch beneath your skin that you could never satisfy, the reason you stood there now.

A glass of that amber liquid in both hands.

He’d disappeared from the celebration. An hour in from congratulations and happy faces, you watched him leave when no one was looking. And you did nothing to stop it. You knew he wasn’t one to relish in the joys of battle well done. Always intent on focusing towards the next thing—the next fight. It’s how you knew Leia would make him General, why he was so good at leading, at keeping the people he loved safe.

“Leaving without saying goodbye is rude, you know.”

He jumped slightly where he stood, his back to you, a holopad in one hand and a tool in the other. Of course he’d be here, fixing his X-Wing in silence. His own little ritual. You couldn’t count how many times you found him here after a fight, finalizing the last few checks before he caught some sleep. If he slept at all. Poe always seemed to be on the move no matter the time of day—a constant in the Resistance even when everyone else seemed to have lost faith.

“I said goodbye,” he joked, head turning slightly to see you come around, the holopad getting traded for a glass. “Just couldn’t see you in the crowd.”

You smiled. “You’re a shit liar Dameron.”

“I know.” He took a sip, winced, and laughed—the sound practically lighting you up inside. Igniting you like a fucking lightsaber.

“What’s the damage report?”

“Nothing I can’t fix.” He glanced back at the scraped up hunk of metal he loved more than anything. The amount of care he put into keeping her going was admirable—if a little insane at times.

But he was right. The damage was nothing he couldn’t fix.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” The smile still played on your lips, eyes alight and aiming to start something you wanted him to finish.

Poe caught onto it quicker than you expected. He could see it before you followed him out of the celebration. A promise that lingered in the air from months of longing looks and timid words. Something inevitable and real. So much so that you were willing to bet everything that he felt exactly the same way you did.

You wanted each other. That was clear from day one. But doing something about it became difficult when war was a constant and lives were put in peril on the daily. Poe didn’t want to leave you broken beyond repair if he never made it back. Just as you didn’t want to do the same to him.

The fucked up thing about it though was Poe would mourn you either way. He’d live his life half a man if you never graced him with your presence again. If you weren’t around to smile at him from across rooms and laugh at his shitty jokes. He was pretty sure he’d already started. Being away from you was like a poison he constantly had to take, a pain he didn’t want to endure. And if it were up to him…he’d choose you every time.

No matter the consequences.

“You ever been in an X-Wing before?” he asked, trying to see past the bits and pieces of the ache that hurt you both.

You rolled your eyes and Poe felt his chest tighten. “You know I haven’t. I’m not pilot material.”

“Sounds like bantha shit to me starlight.”

The name you’d heard so many times before echoed differently to you now. You wanted to break through its meaning and find the promise within. The antidote to this fucking ache that stuck to your chest. You wanted to rip it out and grind it up. You wanted to finally take what you desired, relish in the feel of calling him yours without the pain of knowing what came next. The both of you were trying to save your emotions—protect yourselves—but there was no use.

Poe had found a home in your heart and he was there to stay.

“Come with me.”

When it came to him you had no choice but to listen, following dutifully behind in a haze of want. He climbed up the ladder on the side of his ship, plopping down into the seat with the grace of a pilot who’d done it a million times before. The movement now muscle memory at this point. Whereas you clambered up—buzzed on one drink—nearly falling into the cockpit. He grabbed your arm at the last minute, helping you slowly maneuver your way in, until you were perched on this lap.

The seat was barely big enough to fit him let alone you as well. And yet…you’d never felt more comfortable. He pulled you back slightly, hands pressed to your hips, chest snugly placed against your back. With every intake and exhale of breath, you felt him move. Felt his body shift. If you focused, you knew you would be able to feel his heartbeat. The rhythmic thump you’d grown accustomed to.

“Now—“ He precariously balanced his glass on the dash. “Your hands go here.” Covering your hands with his, he showed you how he’d position himself if he were flying. The cold touch of the buttons and knobs beneath your fingers sent electricity up your spine. “These are to shoot.” Another shift. “And this is to aim.”

You sucked in a breath. “Seems complicated.”

“Not at all.” His fingers slid up your arm, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You tried to remember how to take a single breath. “You just have to understand how the ship works. How she moves, what she likes.”

Your breath hitched, body leaning into him more, and finally you felt it. The wall holding both of you back crumbled to the ground. All that remained now was the will to finally do something about it. So you let his hands guide you, watching in anticipation as they moved to your own body, pressing your palms into your stomach.

“There’s always a heart of a ship,” he murmured, moving your hand down. “A pilot guiding the way.”

“Poe…”

"After all, we've got to guide the ship back home." A soft whimper left your lips, your nails digging into the meat of your thighs to contain yourself. If the cockpit of his ship wasn't so fucking small, you had no doubt you'd be spread on his lap, lips connected to his already.

He grinned, his lips brushing across the back of your neck. “For me…” He stopped right above the hem of your pants, your fingers aching to finally delve down further. “That’s always been you.”

The alcohol had all but burned out of your system from how warm you were. His touch guiding yours seemed to have lit something in the base of your stomach, causing it to spread outwards. And you needed more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed your hand beneath the coarse fabric of your pants. The feeling of him cupping your mound—using you all the while—sent a jolt across your body; a soft moan falling free past your lips.

“Maker starlight,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire. “You’re so fucking wet.”

He wasn't wrong. You could feel yourself dripping the longer he spoke, his words affecting you more than you anticipated. Ever since you first met, Poe always held a power over you. A reminder that no matter how many times you tried to rid yourself of him, no matter what you did...he would remain burned into your soul. He'd be part of you until you drew your final breath in this galaxy.

"It's cause of you," you gasped, your fingers and his sliding through your slick. Running along the lips of your cunt, skimming past your clit entirely. "Oh—"

The scrape of his teeth along your neck nearly did you in entirely, the plea hanging off the tip of your tongue in anticipation. He was toying with you. Playing you like a fucking instrument and listening to your melody. Drowning in the sounds you made—the ones he dreamed of. If there was a life after this, a fated place he could go to rest, he'd want it to be here. Crammed into this cockpit with you on his lap, the feel of you sliding through his fingers and the echo of your voice breathing his name sweeter than the alcohol you had handed him earlier.

Poe would do whatever he could to make this moment last just a minute longer.

"Need you."

He kissed the junction where your neck and shoulder met, fingers still guiding yours through your own heat. "I know you do starlight. But you're gonna cum for me like this first." Your sweet little gasp ripped him a part. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to stave off nearly coming in his pants. "Let me guide you."

You nodded and spread your legs as wide as they could go in the cramped space. It wasn't very far, nor did it give him space to do what he really wanted to do to you, but it would have to do for now. The noise of the celebration in the distance only grew louder as people consumed more alcohol, the joy bleeding into the air. But you couldn't give a shit at that moment about why they were happy, or even what occurred before today.

You were lost to the depths that Poe pulled you into.

Heat spilled between your fingertips, a sticky mess starting between the two of you, but that seemed to only drive him forward. He pressed down, sliding your fingers into you with ease, his delving in right beside you—stretching you in a way that had your back arching. Wrapped his arm around your waist, he kept you still, his chin set on your shoulder and chest heaving with controlled breaths. A way for him to keep the last bits of his sanity as he felt your walls clamp around his fingers.

"Fuck baby," he grit between clenched teeth. "You really did need me huh?"

Nodding, you felt him press even further, fingers searching for something.

"You're gonna make a mess on me." Pumping his hand, he felt your body shudder—your mouth falling open as a ragged moan echoed in the ship. "Gonna take me so easily. I'll slip right in."

You burned from the inside out. A searing heat pulling tight across your body until you could nothing but fall into it. There was no fighting against that aching bliss, no running from what you wanted, what you dreamed of. Poe was intent on breaking you apart right there on his lap, and he'd watch with a smile on his face as you spilled yourself between the rough pads of his fingers. As you made a fucking mess on his lap.

"C'mon baby," he muttered, curling his fingers forward and nudging against something blinding. You cried out, hand grasping at his wrist to either pull him away or keep him right there. You couldn't tell at this point. And he smiled. "Is that it?" Rubbing against the spongy patch along your walls, he felt your entire body lock up, a whimpered sob breaking from your chest. "Yeah. That's fucking it."

You tried to warn him, his name a garbled echo of nonsensical letters on your tongue. But he already knew. His hand sped up, practically pushing your fingers out of the way as he gave you everything you wanted. Poe was certain that he wanted this more than you, that deep down he needed to know that you came because of him. That he was capable of turning you into a sobbing mess.

The echo of his pained grunt was loud in your ears, his hips pressing up into you to relieve the pressure of need he felt, and that's what did it. The knowledge that he was as gone as you were. That he had always wanted you.

Your walls fluttered around his fingers, a splintered moan falling past your parted lips as the pleasure spilled over. And he buried his face into your neck, a broken sound of his own muffled by your warm skin. He fought against finishing, biting into your shoulder as he worked you through your release. Adamant to make this last for you—to drag you to the Maker and back with a sated smile on your face.

Eventually you couldn't take it anymore, pleasure bleeding into pain, and you dragged his hand away. A breathless sigh of his name shooting right to his cock.

Without knowing it you had broken him for anyone else. Obliterated his ability to ever see someone the way he saw you.

You and your beauty. Your ability to render him speechless, breathless, and at your fucking mercy. For so long he was the ship lost in space with no sense of direction to lead him back to something real, a purpose. But then you settled into his heart. You became his pilot, guiding him through the never-ending void of space. You kept him afloat even as the weight of the galaxy threatened to drag him down, happy to watch him crash and burn in as so many others had done before.

"That was new," you giggled, hand reaching back to run through his hair.

He smiled, his heart twisting in his chest and fingers still covered in your slick coming to grip at your hips. "To think..." Pressing your ass down against his hard cock, he felt the breath hitch in your chest. "We could have been doing this the whole time."

"W-What a loss," you breathed, that now familiar all encompassing need filling your veins once more.

As if he knew your body so well already, he began to pull at your pants, helping you strip yourself to the best of your ability. The soft clinking of his belt echoed loudly in the cockpit and for a moment you were sure that people in the distance could hear it. But that thought quickly left your mind the second you felt the hot skin of his cock pressing against your lower back—his precum wet and sticky now smeared against your skin. Saliva filled your mouth, the ache pulling at your chest, clawing its way to the surface.

You didn't simply want him. That was too small of a word to explain the feeling in your body. You breathed for him. You lived for him. Poe was the blood that streamed in your veins, the reason your heart beat the way it did. Because it beat for him.

"Say you want this," he grunted, grinding against your skin, his fingers digging in harder than before. Until blood nearly pricked at the surface.

"Yes." The word was out of your mouth before he could even finish speaking. "Maker, I've wanted this for so long."

A growl hit your ears, his nose pressed into your back as he lifted you slightly, and you felt like you would rip to shreds if he didn't hurry. The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, sliding into you with slippery ease. And you pressed back against him, desperate to feel him sink into you fully. To be stretched out around his cock. Poe choked on his breath when your warm heat encompassed his throbbing length so suddenly, nearly throwing him off the edge entirely.

"Fuck starlight. You're gonna have to give me a second."

Your lips curled up into a grin. "Yes, General."

For a moment Poe could only process the breaths he took, the word entering his already blank mind. It wasn't until a searing heat shot up his spine at the sound of his title leaving your lips, did he fully understand. His hips pushed up into you, forcing him to sink just a bit deeper. You clutched at the side of the ship, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. The position had him pressing right along your walls, the underside of his cock grinding blissfully against you.

"I used to think you had no idea." He pushed you up slightly until his cock was halfway out and he glanced down, moaning at the sight of him covered in your slick. Only to pull you back down hard. Your choked cry was like music to his ears. "Didn't know what you do to me. How my whole fucking body belonged to you."

"Poe—"

He repeated the movement, smiling at the noises that came free. "But I was wrong."

A pressure quickly built in the base of your stomach, threatening to destroy you. And you chased it. Meeting his thrusts, you fucked yourself on his cock, hands pressed to the dash in front of you and back arched to find the perfect angle that made your toes curl in your boots. Ragged breaths filled the space, accompanied by broken moans and stunted grunts. Each one louder than the last as you both took and took and took, until the very edge of bliss mounted in your bodies.

He gripped the back of your neck, hand fisting at your hair as he pulled you back roughly against his chest. And you fell into it. Whining his name when he grinded up slowly, your walls clamped down around his cock. You could barely see straight through the burn of tears that glazed your eyes, a fucked out expression painted perfectly on your face. And Poe wished he could see you from where he was, catch a glimpse of the way your eyes rolled back, neck on display for him to bite.

"You know exactly what you do to me, starlight." His mouth fell open in a silent moan when his balls drew up painfully, cock throbbing along your walls. He quickly shoved his hand into your slick, fingers locating your clit with ease.

"Maker—" You heard him bite out your name like a prayer he couldn't get out fast enough. A plea for you to give him everything you had, everything that made you who you were. "I'm— Fuck I-I'm—"

"Yes," he groaned, using his other hand to cup your chin and pull your lips to his. Finally kissing you after years of dreaming it would happen. "Fucking give it to me baby."

His tongue licked into your mouth, swallowing every sound you made with ease. The feel of his lips against yours shoved you towards your release. A muffled cry of his name echoing in his mouth as your body went taut, thighs quaking as you gushed on his cock. He choked, mouth open and panting against yours, following you instantly and spilling into your cunt—filling you until you were sure it was dripping out of you and gathering at the base of him.

"Yours," he sighed against your lips, thumb running along the top of your cheek. "'M yours."

The twist of your heart brought you down from your high, your eyes fluttering open as he stared at your kiss swollen lips, the way his spit smeared along your bottom one. You expected him to take it back once he slipped out of you. Surely this was nothing but a dream, a moment in time that may never happen again. But in his eyes you saw devotion. You saw the inevitable future that was always bound to happen.

"Me too."

He smiled, nose brushing against yours. "Guess we're stuck with each other starlight."

"That doesn't sound too bad to me, General."

He tsked under his breath, fingers coming to grip your chin—brown eyes flashing up to meet your gaze. "You're causing trouble."

You grinned, grinding on his softened cock that was still buried deep in you. "And if I am?"

The feeling of his cock twitching inside you, slowly growing hard with interest. "Hands on the controls baby." He nipped at your bottom lip. "You know what to do."

A soft flutter filled your stomach as you followed his direction. Taking the lead in a dance that you were now familiar with. With Poe everything came with ease, as if you'd gone through it with him hundreds of times over. And guiding him home was just the beginning.

#poe dameron x f!reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron smut #poe dameron #my writing

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