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gojhoes · 4 months

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my good neighbor

synopsis: You've lived next door to Geto for nearly a year, yet your neighbor remains all but a mystery. But as for you- he knows everything about you, from the shampoo you use to the books you keep by your bed.

warnings: MDNI 18+, NSFW contents: geto x fem!reader, yan(?)!geto, age gap, breeding, masturbation, no curse au, dubcon(?), somno, p-in-v wc: 6.3k

It all starts when an Amazon package with your name on it somehow ended up in Geto's mailbox. He would later refer to this occurrence as his greatest gift from God; the most blessed twist of fate to ever work in his favor.

A pink cardboard box sits on his counter, jarringly bright in comparison to the deep neutral design of his apartment. If the package's appearance wasn't proof enough, printed on top is an address nearly identical to his own, except his is 3-D, not 3-C. Clearly, it belongs to the tenant to his right- an easy mistake to be made by someone who reads hundreds of names and address every day.

Geto knows that he could march back down to the mail room and leave the package in the correct mailbox. He could walk away without another thought but given that the box is this specific shade of pink, he figures it might be something you're really excited for. You're probably wondering about it right now, peering confusedly at the 'Delivered' notification from your email. Besides, you both live on the third floor, so he'd be saving you an extra trip. He's just being a good neighbor.

But then he starts to think- he recognizes this shade of pink. His ex-girlfriend had once received a very similarly shaped package in the same color. Inside that package had been a vibrator that he'd grown quite familiar with over the course of their relationship. Could it be the same thing boxed up right here addressed to you?

Your door is cracked when steps out of his apartment with the package in his hand. From this angle, all he can see is the door to the coat closet directly to the right of the entrance. In his apartment, the same closet is on the left, confirming his suspicions that your bedrooms do, in fact, share a wall.

It also meant that your living rooms were connected, but Geto was already well aware of that. Yours seemed to be the gathering place for all of your friends and given the amount of chatter that trickled through the wall every evening, you had quite a few of them. Not that he minds- he works nights as a pharmaceutical lab tech, so it's not like he's there when you're having your get-togethers.

It was less bothersome during the week than on the weekend, which was when you hosted your entire gaggle of acquaintances for what sounded like game night. He was still working out the details of all the different voices, but over time, he'd developed the ability to recognize certain voices by the pitch and cadence of their speech.

It hadn't been on purpose, but the walls were stupidly thin, hardly a step up from a curtain. It was impossible not to eavesdrop, especially when the voices dwindled to only yours and another that was undeniably male. Geto'd glue himself to the wall trying to hear what the two of you were getting up to, but it seemed you weren't that kind of girl.

Or maybe Geto was assuming incorrectly that there was any type of romance going on. But for the last several weekends, he would hear the two of you chatting, then it would be quiet for a bit, as if you were pausing the conversation to make out. He has not, however, heard any sounds of pleasure from your side of the wall, and that alone has piqued his curiosity.

However, during the day, your side of the wall typically was quiet. Just as he would be getting out of the shower in preparation for bed, he'd hear your alarm blaring right at 7am. If it was loud to him, he could only imagine how your ears still functioned properly after such repetitive torture. He'd hear you getting ready through the walls and smell the coffee you brew while you take a shower. By eight o'clock, there is a jingle of keys followed by hours of silence, and he sleeps just fine.

It had to have been nine months or so since you'd moved in, yet Geto hasn't laid eyes on you even once. Your apparent opposite schedules have managed to keep the two of you from crossing paths despite living just inches from each other.

As he stands between your neighboring doorframes, he thinks about how strange it feels to know someone's daily routine despite never having glimpsed you. Based off your schedule and the lively nature of your social life, he's deduced that you must be an undergraduate student at the nearby university. He himself had graduated the semester before, but the rent was cheap and moving was too much of a hassle.

But what were you, 19? 20? With your own apartment, an 8-3 schedule, and enough time to hang out with your friends nearly every day? He couldn't be sure of your age, not without seeing you, but your behaviors made him sure that you were young.

Geto glances down at the box again, reading your name aloud to test the sound of it on his tongue. He eyes the opening of your door again, craning his neck to see what else might be behind it, but no dice. Maybe if he should just go in and leave it on the counter. He would get to see your place and hopefully satiate this prolonged curiosity, even for just a moment.

Besides, you've left your door cracked. Every front door in the building locks automatically when closed, so technically, it would be your fault if this was a robbery situation, regardless of the value of your things. It's too tempting- he's been too intrigued by the box clutched in his hand. It was fate for the two of you to meet this way. Every time you held it to your clit as you came, you'd think of the moment you saw him with the box in his hand at your door.

His hand hovers over the doorknob- is he really about to do this? Wherever you've gone, you'll likely be back any minute if you've been so careless about your door. No, it's not the right time. He's already nervous about how you will react, even more so knowing he's going to be seeing you for the first time.

You know when someone just sounds hot? The music your body makes is so human, yet so graceful and controlled until your friends come over. You sound perfect when you're just simply existing by yourself. He feels, in so many ways, that he knows you so well already. It wouldn't take him any time at all to learn how to give you what you want. Maybe he'll tell you that, if the moment presents itself.

He's fortunate yet again for the lack of insulation used by the contractors. There is a rushed set of footsteps echoing from the stairwell at the end of hall, giving him enough warning to take a step back until he's standing just the perfect distance between your two neighboring doors. He looks up as the footsteps close in, and his heart skips a beat when he finally, finally sees you.

"Hi!" you chirp. "You must be my neighbor."

The last few steps you take give him enough time to drink you in. You can't be older than 20 with plush lips and a pretty smile, one that lights up your face and showcases your lack of smile lines. And what you're wearing makes his mouth go dry. It's a baby blue pajama set with thin straps and the shortest goddamn shorts Geto has ever seen in his life. He's staring, he knows he is, but you're even more gorgeous than he could've imagined. Your hand shoots out to shake his, small and soft enveloped within his grasp for just a wink of time.

It's not enough, not even close to satisfying the desire you've instilled in him. He forces himself to look at your face and not at the tops of your tits threatening to spill out of that useless pajama top. God, and he can see your nipples straining against the thin fabric-

"I believe this belongs to you," he says, holding out the pink box.

Your face lights up impossibly as you pull it into your hands, and Geto thinks he might die right there. He smiles at your excitement; he was right- you were excited to get this. God, he would be so good to you if you'd let him.

"Oh, thank you!" you say enthusiastically. "I've had a lot of packages go missing lately, so it's really nice to actually get this one. Thank you so much."

You're practically worshipping him with the sinful sweetness dripping from your words. So well-mannered. Would you be this polite if he brought you into his bed and offered to give you his cock? Would you smile at him as you are now, and say please every time you ask him to fuck you? He'd do it for you- he'd give you everything simply just for being such a sweet girl for him.

Geto smiles and introduces himself. "It seemed like a pretty important package."

He catches the way your shoulders tense and the slight flush of your cheeks- shit, was it actually a vibrator in there? Clearly, you're embarrassed, so it would make sense, but there's no need to be ashamed of getting one.

But you're smiling sweetly again, any trace of worry wiped clean. "It's nice to finally meet you, Geto," you say, and he swears that he sees your eyes flick down to his lips.

He hums, tilting his head to side as if to study you. "Likewise."

You send him one more polite smile before disappearing into your apartment. As he's closing his own door, he's imagining you making a cup of coffee like you do every morning. Are all of your pajamas that pretty? He's met you once, but already he can tell that you're a princess. He bets your parents pay your rent and send you money for groceries anytime you ask. A girl as sweet as you was probably well-accustomed such doting and pampering.

Someone was taking care of you, but were they making sure you were safe? Who was reminding you to keep your doors locked? You were a young pretty girl living on your own in the city- anything can happen. Clearly it seems that you need someone to look out for you, and who could possibly be better for the job than him? He lived so close by already; checking on you would be no problem at all.

And after seeing your perfect thighs in your little shorts, the swell of your breasts straining against the blue fabric...he'll do anything if it means he might get to see that again. He'd come up to you from behind and wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your ass against his hips. One hand holding your chin as he kisses the side of your neck, squeezing your thigh with the other...

You need him. Someone older and more mature to nurture you properly. Besides, he was just being a good neighbor.

That evening, he rearranges his room so that the head of his bed is flush against the innermost wall of his apartment, the one that he shares with you.

*** Geto will admit that somewhere deep inside, he does feel guilty. This part of him is disgusted and ashamed, constantly wishing he could be different and cursing himself because he's not. But he was going to make you love him. Once you let him in, you'll wonder why you hadn't come to him sooner. You'll see- he'll prove it to you, and then you'll understand that everything he does is for you.

But the rest of him, the more dominant parts of his personality, run rampant once he's fallen for you. He isn't acting right, deep down he knows that, but he can't stop. He doesn't want to stop. He wants to know every secret you might be hiding. The home a person keeps says so much about them, and he wants to know everything. You won't have to hide from him, not ever, and he'll make sure you know that. Maybe he's obsessed, but can you blame him? You're just so perfect.

He's starving for you, but he's got to be subtle; if he's too forward, he risks upsetting you or scaring you away. He doesn't want to stress you out, either, but it's essential that he sees your apartment. He needs to check your locks, especially the one on your balcony and make sure that you're keeping up with your cleaning.

It means taking advantage of the several minutes you leave your door cracked when you've gone down to the basement to do your laundry. Every Saturday afternoon, before your friends come and steal you away, you gather your basket and leave your deadbolt extended to avoid locking yourself out.

He's managed to pull it off twice, the first time being harder than the second. It took him three days to work up the courage to even try thinking of a plan, but after moving his bed to the wall, closer to you, he's descended quickly into absolute agony. It's a stroke of luck- no, of fate- that has made you put your bed against the same wall- and he can hear everything.

A few days have passed since the package mishap, and by that point, Geto had almost forgotten about the contents of the box. That night, just as he's getting ready for a shift at the lab, he hears a strange buzzing as he's brushing his teeth. It's an electric toothbrush, so his first thought is that maybe it's time to replace it. But as he rinses out his mouth, he finds that the buzzing had not ceased. It's go to be you, he thinks, immediately drying his face and flying over to the wall to press his ear flush to it. He's just in time to hear the beautiful, merciful sound of a mewl escaping from your lungs.

A shaky breath passes his lips. He's dumbfounded by the pleasure that flows through his abdomen when he realizes what you're doing. He'd totally been right about the package. Even through the wall, he's able to recognize the same vibrations. Maybe he's just been Pavlov'd, but immediately he can feel the blood rushing south as a faint throb starts in his cock.

He knows without a doubt that you've got the cutest pout on your lips, maybe a few strands of hair falling into your face as you lay your head back. "Feels good," he whispers, despite knowing that you can't hear him. Do your hips buck up into your hands, or do have those plush thighs squeezing them tight while you try to cum?

Is this really happening right now? Heat creeps up his neck and high on his cheeks as another moan, albeit quieter this time, blesses his ears. He can't stop his hand from finding his cock and palming at himself as he eyes slip shut.

He's dying to know- he wants to see you right now, wants to watch as you spread apart your folds and fuck yourself until you're trembling. He needs more, he needs everything that you can give him- and you will give him all that you can. He knows you will because you're just that good of a girl.

Fuck. He's got to get to work on time before the cultures expire and he fucks up three weeks' worth of data, but you are killing him with each sweet little moan that leaves your mouth. He's picturing you on your knees with your ass in the air, two fingers pumping in and out of your tight cunt while your other hand has a death grip on the vibrator.

He's waited so long to hear your pathetic little whines as you fuck yourself as fast you can on your too-short fingers. You're so desperate, and with how hard you're trying, it's obvious that you're getting frustrated. He wants to help you- it's clear from your desperate cries that you need him to. He would help you cum, over and over if that's what you wanted. "It's okay," he breathes. "Keeping going, it's okay."

Using a vibrator for the first time can feel almost painful if you're not used to the intensity. You're so overstimulated that you're struggling to reach the orgasm you chase so desperately. He feels genuine pity for you as cry out, "please! so close...mm." If you'd just asked him, he would've been able to introduce it your sensitive clit the right way.

He's begging you more, anything you could give him. He knows you'll do it for him soon. You were just that good of a girl, and maybe you were too sensitive to cum without a little bit of a help. If he was inside you, you'd have creamed all over his cock by now, too fucked out to ride him anymore as he pounds into your pretty pussy from behind.

As much as he would love to see you beg for it, he truly thought that you deserved to cum and felt frustrated for you. You were such a sweet girl; the only reason it took you so long to try your new toy had to be because you were nervous. Good girls deserve the best orgasms, after all.

Shit, were you still a virgin? Did you even know how to make yourself cum yet? That would explain why he hadn't ever heard those pretty sounds before. Fuck, you were going to make him lose his goddamn mind if you didn't cum in the next 60 seconds. "Y-you'll cum for me, right? I know you can do it."

Geto did not make it to work on time that day, quintessentially ruining over 300 specimens all because you wanted to play with your pussy right as he had to leave for work. It was terrible timing, but he can't say he regrets bringing himself to one of the best orgasms he'd ever had without even touching you. It wasn't enough, though, just hearing you. He needs to see it, needs to feel your warm, tight cunt squeezing him dry while you moan into his ear.

A plan comes to him, albeit a risky one. The next time you leave to do your laundry, propping your door open like always, he slips into your apartment. It's an inverted copy of his own- the same appliances, same gray tiles, a balcony at the back of the living room. Your apartment is so girly, so shamelessly you, and not to mention spotless. Geto makes a poignant effort to keep his place clean, but only a control freak would keep their apartment this organized. You must be an anxious person- but that's okay, because he'll be there to help you through it.

Two minutes pass- you should be back any moment, and while he has an idea of what he'll say if you catch him, he really wants to avoid scaring you. He can't have you feeling scared around him, so he turns to leave- he can always come back another time after he's more prepared. But then he sees a set of keys lying on your counter, and the gears in his head start turning.

You've left your door open, so you'll be able to get back in- he doesn't have to worry about that. He knows you won't be leaving anytime soon. He's confident that he'll have enough time and he doubts that you'll notice your apartment key missing if you're not actively needing it. So, he pockets the whole set and slips right back out as silently as he'd come.

Early on Monday morning, Geto waits until he hears the jingle of your keys and the click of the deadbolt as it slides into place. The smell of coffee lingers, and his clock reads 8:06, but he can't risk you coming back, so he forces himself to wait a little longer. He's nearly vibrating with the anticipation of getting so much unadulterated time in your apartment. The copied key in hand is representative of everything he's done to get closer to you. This observation will help him learn who you are- what shampoo you use, what you keep on hand in your fridge, what toys you have hidden away.

He decides it's been long enough when 20 more minutes pass, and Geto makes a beeline for your bedroom. Compared to the rest of your apartment, your room is much more lived-in. The white comforter topping your bed is rumpled, exposing light pink sheets under a plethora of stuffies and pillows. He's more interested, however, in the nightstand on the side.

He pulls open the single drawer and sure enough, there's the white vibrator that you've been using quite often lately. Aside from a bottle of lube, there's nothing aside from some medications and a pair of nail clippers. His suspicion that you're a virgin persists from your lack of sex toys- no wonder you were so embarrassed when he hinted at the contents of your package. Already, he was half-hard thinking about how good he was going to make you feel. He was ecstatic to think that no one else had touched you yet. Whoever that guy was, the one you your often spent evenings with alone, wasn't going to stand a chance.

Geto steps away to make toward your bathroom, and feels something soft under his foot. He glances down and bends to retrieve the black lacy thong you've left so mercifully on the floor. It's foul, it's intrusive, it's perfect- he brings the fabric to his face and breathes in your scent. His cock throbs in his pants, begging for attention- for your attention, but he can't have you yet. No, it has to be perfect because you are perfect, and you deserve nothing less.

He shoves the thong in his pocket before going into the ensuite bathroom.

Later that week, the universe finally gives him a break.

That fateful Friday evening, he calls in sick to work. His throat is a bit sore, and he knows the ache in his muscles isn't from last night's workout, so he opts to take his temperature, which reads 38.2°C. He knocks back some cold medicine before burying himself in the blankets on his couch, dozing in and out as the effects sweep him away.

He's roused by a rap-rap-rapping on his front door, and even through his medicated haze, his heart jumps- is it you? Is he really about to get this lucky? He glances at the clock above the stove to see that it's half-past 11, and from the din coming through the wall, he knows that you've got your friends over. As he crosses to answer the door, he does feel a bit better aside from the persistent fog clouding his brain.

And it is you, dressed in a pair of jeans and a pink top that shows off your midriff. Your cheeks are painted with a light flush and your hair is bit disheveled, obviously tipsy from the way you're swaying a little. He smiles at you, drinking in the soft curves of your hips that he's been dying to dig his fingers into.

"Hey," you say. Your speech isn't quite slurred, but there's a lilt to your words that says all he needs to hear. "I'm so sorry to bother you like this, I know it's a little creepy, but-"

He doesn't mean to cut you off, but the words spill out of his mouth before he can stop them. "No, it's no trouble at all. Bother me all you want."

You're tipsy enough that the line works- you even laugh a little, and the sound makes his heart skip a beat. Every sound you make is so sweet

"Right," you say. "D'you have a wine bottle opener by chance?"

He shoots you his best disarming smile. "I do."

"Could I borrow it for a moment? I promise I'll bring it right back, I'm right next door."

He'd give you his left lung if you asked for it. He considers inviting you in, but the state of his illness deters him. All the lights are off in his apartment and he hadn't bothered to change out of his gray sweats and black sweatshirt. His hair is down, likely tangled and flat from dozing on his couch. No, you deserve to see him at his best- he'll get you to come over soon enough.

"Of course," Geto says. "Just a second."

He leaves the door cracked in the same way he's seen yours over the last month. Your fingers linger on his own when he places the wine opener in your hand. Even that slight contact sends a wave of excitement through him.

"Swear you'll come right back?" he teases, smirking a little.

You smile again, making him fall even harder when shoot him a wink before disappearing back inside of your apartment without a response. If this was your way of flirting, he's even more enamored with you. So coy, yet so sweet as you look at him over your shoulder before the door closes.

Geto goes into his kitchen to heat up a bowl of broth. Your tits sat so pretty in that little top- did you always dress like that? Not too revealing, showing off just enough to drive him mad with desire. He didn't get to see your ass, but if it was anything like he remembered, he knew that those jeans would cling to it like a film.

As he's sipping on his soup and scrolling mindlessly through his phone, there's another knock. He's on his feet and at the door in seconds, not even bothering to hesitate to swing it open so he can see you again. This time, you're holding a bottle of rose (because of course, you are) and his wine opener.

"Can you do it for me?" You're looking up at him with what he swears is a pout, and with how you bat your eyes through the question, how can he refuse? It would be criminal not to help, especially when you're asking so nicely with that cute look on your face. "None of us can get it open."

He's delighted that you've asked him. Were there no boys over there to help you? Did you choose him over them, or were you truly just too clumsy to do it yourself?

He cranes his neck to see if anyone else stands in the hall, but it seems deserted save for you, so he pushes forward. Geto does his best to seem mildly disinterested yet nice, not wanting to scare you away with the words he really wants to say. If he didn't fuck this up, maybe he wouldn't have to wait so long to get you to come back. His plan would get to move so much faster, but he had to be careful.

"I should probably do this over the sink," he says, reaching out to retrieve the bottle from your grasp. He purposefully lets his thumb brush the tip of your pinky- enough to test the waters, but not so much that it can't be played off as sheer coincidence. As he turns to go into the kitchen, he says over his shoulder, "Feel free to come in, by the way."

The suggestion is very forward considering you've said less than 20 words to the guy since moving in a year ago. Had you been of a better state of mind, you would have politely declined- you barely knew the guy even if your beds were separated only by a few inches of drywall. But you can't deny your curiosity; not once have you glimpsed what lies on his side of the wall. So you indulge yourself and step over the threshold, making sure to pull the door as you do so.

There's no way he's getting this lucky right now. All the plotting, the strategic timing of your meetings, and his careful research are finally paying off. You are walking right into his apartment without him having to lift a finger. He doesn't think you can get any more perfect- he hasn't even touched you yet, and you seem to already know what he wants. It was proof that the invisible string was real.

You stand at a safe distance on the side of the bar opposite from his, watching intently as Geto works the wine opener into the cork. There's a satisfying 'pop' as he gives it a firm tug. What would've taken you an embarrassingly long amount of time is accomplished with one quick flex of his forearm and a small grunt of effort.

"What's the occasion?" he asks.

You stare at him blankly. "Huh?"

He returns the wine opener to its rightful drawer, drawing out the motions to maximize how long he's got you in his apartment.

"It's champagne, so I figured maybe it was for something special," he explains. "Or are you just fancy like that?"

You're smiling at him again and his heart soars. He prays that you'll always look at him like that, and only him, but he gives no indication of the depth of his feelings. He wraps his hand around the neck of the now-open bottle and extends it toward you as he rounds the side of the counter.

"You could say that," you reply with a giggle. "Thank you..um, it's Geto, right?"

He nods. "Anytime. What's mine is yours."

It comes out wrong- way too intense to say if he's trying to stay above ground with you. But you don't seem to mind. If anything, the flush on your cheeks deepens as you take the bottle from him. From where he stands, he can make out a faint scar dragging across your exposed collarbone. He wonders what it might feel like to run his tongue across you delicate skin and leave marks. Would you keen into him and clutch at him as the quick, sharp pain pulls a whine out of you?

"Um, I'm sorry if I'm ever loud or anything," he says. "I work nights, so I think we have opposite schedules." A white lie, but he doesn't want you to leave yet. If he just keeps you talking, maybe he'll get the chance to ask you to hang out. He's desperate, honestly, but he tries to hide it as he stands between you and the front door.

Your face lights with a carefree wave of your hand. "Oh no, I can hardly tell you're there most of the time. I'm a super heavy sleeper, too, so don't worry about it."

He hums and shoots you a grin. "Guess I've been worried for nothing, then."

"Same to you, though," you continue. "I have people over like, all the time, I know they can get really loud."

It's awkward now, as you stand there with your eyes darting around the room and occasionally meeting his. You're nervous, he realizes, shifting your body in a way that makes your hip jut out. He doesn't want you to leave, but he's less apt to make you too uncomfortable, so he makes to walk you out.

"Thank you again," you say, smiling at him widely. He returns your thanks, and watches you disappear into your apartment once more. Already, his mind is reeling as he checks the time. Your friends should be leaving in a couple of hours- the noise usually diminishes around 2am, which will be no trouble to stay up until.

And he makes it despite taking another dose of medicine, having long since grown used to being awake during these hours. You should've have mentioned that you were a heavy sleeper, because now he has to do this.

His clock reads 3:10 when he quietly turns the lock with his copy of your key. The lights are off and it's silent, such a vast difference from the earlier commotion. He leaves his keys on the counter in case there's an unfortunate jingle when he finally enters your room.

You sleep naked- god, you make it so easy for him to love you. Your lips are parted and the passive rise and fall of your chest signals just how deeply you're sleeping.

He slides a hand between inner your thighs, unable to help himself any longer. He teases at your entrance to see how wet you are, dipping his fingertip in just far enough to get a taste of you as he brings it up to his mouth.

And fuck, his index finger slides right in and your cunt flutters around it.

But you don't stir; there's not even a hitch in your breath as he curls his finger into that spongy tissue that he's sure should've roused you. You weren't exaggerating about your being a heavy sleeper, and Geto silently sends praise to whatever gods that were helping him pull this off. However many drinks you'd had earlier were keeping you pulled under the sea of unconsciousness.

He thinks about sliding his hands under your thighs and burying his face between them, licking and sucking at your clit to properly taste you. Surely you'd have to wake up from that, but his patience is wearing thin.

He needs this- he needs you. He's so desperate to finally sink into you, to fuck you like he's been aching to for months. His hands are on the waistband of his sweats and he's pulling out his cock, the tip already weeping as he thumbs at his slit. He wraps his hand around his shaft and starts thrusting into it, finally letting himself begin to unravel as he lets out a pleasured sigh.

God, he doesn't know where to start. Your perfect tits bounce ever so slightly with every rise and fall of your chest. The collarbones he's been wanting to bite are so vulnerable and delicate, sitting right there for the taking. But he doesn't want to ruin the moment by waking you from too much stimulation. He leans over your still body, holding himself up on his palms as he glimpses your pretty face.

He feels that he might die if he doesn't fuck you right now, lining up his cock with your entrance before he buries himself inside you.

"Ohh, fuck," he breathes. So tight, so warm, so perfect- his own perfect little pussy, so much better than anything he could've imagined. He fears that he might cum right then, digging his fingers into the sheets in attempt to steady himself. Even in such a deep sleep, you're soaking his cock with each slow thrust. Are you dreaming about him fucking you right now? Is that how your slumbering brain is making sense of all the pleasure?

Once he's got some semblance of control, he rolls his hips into yours, sinking back into you until. It's too good, and he needs more, he needs to have his cock as deep as you'll take him. He moves his hands to your knees and bends your legs until your thighs are pressing against your chest. It's desperate, the way he fucks you, but somehow, you remain as still and quiet as you'd been when he first came in. Your body jostles with each thrust and he sees the tip of your tongue creeping out from between your parted lips- fucked dumb, even fast asleep.

He knows he should probably pull out, but he's too fucked out to think straight, not to mention the cold medicine running through him right now. It's not right, but with how fucking good you feel, he doesn't care. You're going to wake up with his cum dripping out of your aching cunt, wondering obliviously if your period came early. Traces of him will be all over you and he just knows you'll love the feeling. He can already tell you're going to be his little cumslut- you're too sweet to deny him such a pleasure.

His thrusts get faster until his balls are full on slapping against your ass and his muscles tense all over. You're squeezing him so fucking tight, it's a wonder he's lasted this long, especially with how needy you've made him.

An involuntary flutter of your cunt sends him over the edge. His orgasm wracks his entire body and he's trembling with each spurt of his cum that covers your gummy walls, uncaring as to what consequences might await him. He moans out your name, panting as he empties every drop into you, and you just take it so well. Just as he's about to pull out, your eyes flutter open ever so slightly.

But you're so tired- you don't even notice that it's Geto hovering over you before they slip shut again. "Mm," you murmur. "Wh-what are you..mm." The words trail off, and a moment later, your breaths are soft and even again as sleep takes you once more.

You're adorable. He slips out of you as gently as he can, he waits until he can see his cum start to trickle down to the curve of your ass. He lifts a hand to stroke your cheek and brush away the stray hairs on your face, but he doesn't want to risk waking you when you're already so sleepy. With how pliable and motionless you are, it's clear that you need your beauty sleep.

As he slips out of your apartment and back into his, he can't help but think of how lucky he is. He's so lucky- how is it that fate has blessed him so richly? He was going to make you his. You were going to get so addicted to his cock, to his scent, to his taste that you'd never dare to leave him. You'll belong to him, free for him to use and praise as he pleases. But he will always reward you for being his sweet girl.

And, he thinks, you are so so lucky to have such a good neighbor.

i felt like a mad scientist the entire time i wrote this. if you've thought about trying to write fanfic, JUST DO IT because sometimes it's really fun.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #geto suguru #suguru geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru smut #somno breeding #yandere #yandere geto suguru #obsessive love #idek

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peachypinkygloss · 7 months

Text

places i know — jjk

i know places - lykke li, les matins - angèle

ᥫ᭡ summary: in which jungkook's heart beats for you, but he prefers to dismiss his feelings and to blame himself for getting hurt.

ᥫ᭡ genre: friends with benefits, university au, angst, smut.

ᥫ᭡ word count: 3.7k

ᥫ᭡ warnings: alcohol consumption, long and messy hair jk 🫶🏻, he's introverted & she's extroverted, opposites attract type of shit, unreciprocated love, unprotected sex, unprotected oral sex, praising, blowjob, clit stimulation.

a.n.: yeah so... i came up with this last minute. begging for feedback again 🙏🏻 because your girl is paranoid and thinks everything she writes is shit 🥹 (to be confirmed or denied, idk) i won't update for a while, pls take care of yourselves, guys. kisses x

The way between his last course of the day — his class situated in block E, literally the farthest part of the university, still not renovated since the creation of the school — and his car is familiar, repetitive.

It doesn't bother Jungkook, though. Not all that much, at least. It's part of his daily life and he prefers things to be consistent, always predictable. He likes having a routine, something he can rely on — something secured, a feeling of certainty.

And the way to his car is all that. Expect for one detail in his life that is almost too unpredictable, even more than the rain. He simply can't tell when it's about to happen because if he were to predict it, he'd have to let down all his little habits.

He'd have to set the notifications of his phone on, remove 'night time' mode in case he ever receives an unexpected text from an unpredictable person. Have to ask questions more often, questions that are direct and that the answers don't leave him overthinking all night, turning sides back and forth in his bed.

Have to stop putting on his headphones while exiting the university building to hear your steps on the wet cement, rushing to him from behind, already grinning to yourself, knowing he doesn't suspect your presence.

A few repeated taps on his back makes him tense his shoulders, and makes him turn his head back to see who's after him. You may be sudden, but he always knows it's you. You're the only person in his life that would message him at 3 a.m., proposing to meet up and then canceling at the last minute to only interpellate him on his way back home.

He's a bit sour about this, but he won't tell you.

It's your silly escapades that fill most of his days and nights, though. It's that little giggle that leaves your lips before saying 'let's go to the movie theatre' without knowing what films are playing, just because it's funnier like that, because it's unexpected. It creates unforgettable memories, develops stronger feelings.

He reaches for his phone in the pocket of his hoodie, pressing pause, slipping his headphones off and letting them hang around his neck. There's a smile on your lips, one he remembers kissing more than once, both drunk and sober. Most of the time drunk.

"You're ready?" A toothy smile, one of the best, the only one he always wants to see, always misses.

Again, nothing has been prepared, but being unplanned is your habit. Maybe a fear of being chained to a routine, something Jungkook is attached too, though it doesn't matter.

There's something about you, about your wild nature that has him obsessed over you. Opposites attract, but he doesn't feel like your opposite, he feels like he's complementary to you. Like a puzzle piece. Like partners.

He continues his way to his car as you follow him to it, stepping backwards to keep facing him, sometimes turning around, feeling the wind passing through your hair.

Jungkook looks ahead, only glancing at you when he feels your insistent gaze on him. He can't ignore you. Not because you take a lot of space, but because he wants to answer you, wants to hear what you have to say and he knows he's going to regret later for not questioning you.

"I didn't know when you were coming," he opts for, choosing something lighter than what he has on his heart, a feeling he's not sure he wants to acknowledge himself; when are you going to stop playing with me?

"Tuh-tuh-tuh." You stop in front of him, forcing him to halt his walk as well. "Don't ask me when," you say, raising your eyebrows and tilting your head to the side. "Ask me why, ask me where."

Jungkook chuckles, the proud lopsided smile on your face amusing him. How easy it is for you to deviate from the conversation, avoid something you don't want to give an answer to. Something you don't want to touch on. Almost too easy-peasy.

He doesn't catch onto it yet again, leaving the lead to you, letting you use your impeccable charm on him.

"Where?" He sighs.

"That's the best part!" You cheer, "Okay, you know that place I talked to you about?"

"Yeah," he confirms, a bit unsure, but memories and words of yours are fast at coming back into his mind. "Your secret spot?"

He cuts his question there because what you said isn't something he really wants to say out loud — wanna show you that place, feels majestic, you'll like it. Wanna kiss you under that big, big tree, sit on your lap, cuddle you, ride your cock.

It was cheeky when you said it, but he was giggling along with you, sparkling eyes looking into each other, vodka rolling on your tongues.

You were beautiful that night in your blue dress, fitting well with the colour of your hair and skin, making your eyes pop out more. And so are you now, wearing a cute top with that long skirt, Doc Martens at your feet.

That night, you were sexy. A wet dream, an erotic fantasy. Today, you're cute and casual, looking like the girlfriend he wished he had.

"Yup," you nod your head, "My secret spot," you repeat, smiling softly.

He doesn't respond with anything so it's silent for a short moment, the breeze making your hair twirl around your head. He tells himself, right now, that the world is yours. It's as if you were controlling everything; the wind, the weather, his heart.

"Come on, Kook," you insist, "I'm gonna tell you where to go."

The moon is shining brightly from where he is. Away from the city, from all the flashing lights and the roaring of cars. It's peacefully quiet. He likes it.

You're also on your back, looking at the night sky and the clouds. Pointing at one star, saying it's someone's puppy. You hope it's resting in peace, he tells you of course, don't worry. You smile, again. He loves it.

You pick out a flower; it's purple, maybe rather violet. A really soft violet.

You turn on your side, leaning on your elbow, staring at Jungkook — a smirk tugging at your lips. You extend your arm to wipe some of his hair away from his face, tucking the stem of the flower behind his ear. He doesn't stop you and closes his eyes as your fingers brush over his skin.

You replace his bangs, Jungkook's eyelids fluttering as you do so and for the first time, very first time, he's the one who destabilizes you.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, looking at you, noticing how your eyes instantly glance up at him when the compliment slips past his lips. Maybe it's the way you slightly raise your eyebrows, no sight of a smile on your face, rather a look of surprise, a look of 'nobody's words make my stomach twist as much as yours do'.

For you, it's the way that you know he means it, really thought about it before, told himself hundreds of times in his head. Fuck, this girl's beauty is unbelievable.

The grass underneath you is starting to feel cold. The sun is gone and you cruelly miss its light on your skin, heating you up as well as Jungkook's arms around you do, too.

"You, too," you say back. No 'thank you', but he'll go with that. He guesses it felt too intimate and he understands that. Well, he tries to, at least.

He brings a hand up to the back of your neck, the tip of his fingers feel cold against your skin, a shiver running up your spine and making the hair on your arms stand up. He pulls you down and presses his lips down on yours.

It's not hot, it's not messy or sloppy. It's warm, passionate and coordinated. God, he's so cheesy.

He's fucking in love.

You break the kiss, grinning when he looks at you with wide, sparkling eyes. You lift up the right sleeve of his hoodie over his forearm, revealing the couple of tattoos decorating his skin, a bit dispersed and distanced from each other. Jungkook's told you about his desire of filling up his sleeve and colouring some of his tattoos as well.

You point to an empty spot, raising your gaze up to him while saying, "I see a lily there. A tiger lily."

He looks down to his arm, then up to you. "Do you?" He questions.

"Yes," you bob your head, whispering softly. "Bright and orange," you add on, tracing the form of the flower on his arm. He watches your finger brush his skin delicately with a lot of care. "With the petals open."

"It'd be really pretty," he approves, his words making you smile.

You then take his hand in yours and bring his arm up, passing it around your shoulders. He says nothing when you lay your face down on his chest. He only tilts his head downward, smiling back at you.

Your breathing is calm and regular, sometimes letting out a heavier exhale. You trust him, he realizes, and it makes his heart swell, hurts him a little because this isn't enough of a reason.

Enough of a reason to acknowledge his feelings — acknowledge how fucking boring his life is without you and how he wants to spend each moment with you.

But he can't ask that from you, can't demand you to reciprocate his feelings. So he only hopes and wishes, hurting when he's not around you. Goes back to his routine that he so wants to give up on just to be with you, a wild soul who dreams of liberty.

"You didn't tell me why."

You giggle, not because you find it funny, but because you're happy he remembered and cares enough to ask you. Of course he cares, it's you.

"Why I brought you here?" You say while rising up from his chest, connecting your eyes to his.

"Yeah," he confirms with a short nod of his head.

"You're the only one I told about," you answer, "And I don't think there's anybody else I want to share this moment with," you tell him in a soft tone, one that you solely use to say the truth. "I just knew you'd like this place as much as I do, and I want you to come here whenever you feel like it. It's our spot."

'What's mine is yours'.

It can be platonic, it can be friendly, but fuck, there's nothing platonic in the way that you look at him with stars in your eyes, wanting to give him to the world just because it'd feel like the right thing.

You seem so serene while telling him this, and Jungkook can't ignore the 'what if's' that are forming in his head. What if we come here daily until the snow comes and covers the grass? What if we carve our initials on that tree?

What if this secret means more to him than it means to you?

And then it hurts again.

He loves you.

Loves you in a way nobody else ever will because what he has, what he feels, is unique. Everybody's feelings are different, that's why you'll never find someone like Jungkook, that's why if you want him, you need to claim him.

But you probably never will. It's not your kind, not something you're willing to do. 'Don't want to sacrifice what we have', you once said. 'Girlfriend, boyfriend — what does it mean?' you responded when Jungkook jokingly called you "the perfect girlfriend" with too much alcohol in his blood.

Fucking ruined the mood. Why so fucking mean... when he knows you, knows the best parts of you that are down to earth, lovely and sweet, so many qualities in one single person.

But you're entitled to your stupid values.

And he continues to love you as he asks where to go now and you answer all too pouty that you want to go home, his home.

You insist on having vodka, knowing where he hides it, the top cabinet where you can't reach. Have to beg him with puppy eyes to let you have a glass. A tiny glass.

He tells you that you sure as hell gonna have a tiny one. You smile, thanking him. He drinks with you because there's no way he's letting you break his heart absolutely sober.

He loves you maybe more — well aware that he's going to regret it — when your sloppy tongues meet in a heated kiss, impatient hands slipping under each other's clothes.

He grabs a tit, earning a moan, you take a fist full of hair, eliciting a groan. The way to his bedroom feels far, far away, but he knows you're going to reach it, you have to.

Your body is one of the few things Jungkook's familiar with. He knows the way to your pussy, knows where to hit and touch. Knows also the way to your heart, just there in your rib cage, under your sternum.

He fucking knows, but you won't let him and so he keeps his hands away from that part of your body.

The sheets are just an excuse for being his for the night.

Just for the night, leaving before the sun rises.

Whatever.

He moans as he lets you engulf his cock in your mouth, flat on your stomach between his thighs, one leg bent at the knee. He knows to be patient, not push you to do something you don't want to, but it's hard, really hard when your mouth feels like literal heaven.

His head keeps rolling back on his shoulders, hitting the headboard behind him, raising it back up to watch your lips slide smoothly over his length. His fists clench on either side of his body, mouth ajar to let out heavy breaths that you can hear from where you are.

There are times he doesn't really hold himself back, times where the bed isn't just an excuse anymore, but tonight, he feels a bit restricted. He doesn't quite know why, even though the answer's right in front of him. But Jungkook prefers hiding his head in the sand.

"Ah, fuck," he says breathlessly already, frowning as he concentrates on the feeling of your tongue on his cock, sucking him like you fucking mean it. "Baby..."

Another moan, elongated and whiney, a clear indication that you have an impact on him. You affect him — oh, you do so much.

Hesitantly, he grips your hair, not too tight, not pulling, just clenching his fist around it. It's enough to show you that he isn't indifferent to your touch. You know that, but you tend to forget it, tend to go see someone different, searching for something you'll never find in anyone else than Jungkook.

He whimpers as your nose touches his pubic hair, the tip of his cock reaching the back of your throat. He fucking shakes, fucking whines while you swallow around him, sucking the soul out of him.

You're greedy; you take everything, you don't share. Ask for more, come back over and over again. But you take, you don't give. Don't even pay back.

Do you realize it? Would be debatable. Jungkook's heart isn't strong enough to have that conversation, though.

You moan around his cock, a response to his little whines, happy you can procure him this kind of pleasure. You bob your head over his length, making a mess, saliva spilling at the corners of your mouth.

You cup his balls and Jungkook reacts instantly. "Oh, yeah- yeah, like that," he approves, hooded eyes staring at the way his member appears and disappears between your lips as you bounce your head up and down.

If he doesn't stop you, he'll cum very soon, and that's not something that he wants. Not in your mouth, not anywhere. He knows the moment he cums is the moment you also leave.

So there's some tenderness in his voice when he instructs you to come lay beside him, your back to his chest. He thinks this is his favourite position, at least with you. Fucking you is the only way he can get that close to you. He can forget about cuddles, but you'll let him fuck you in spoon because sure, it's a great position. Warm and sensual.

"You feel so good- oh, god," he shakily says under his breath, his lips beside your ear. He's completely nestled inside you, his soft breath caressing your neck — a kiss is given to your shoulder, another to your jaw.

When he starts to move, it's slow and steady, but his moans tells you how it takes a lot out of him to not move faster, not ruin your pussy, not fuck you totally dumb on his bed the way he always does so good when he has way too much alcohol in his system.

He lifts up your thigh, making a bit more space for him, his other hand sneaking between your legs to reach your throbbing clit. His dark bangs fall into his eyes, some strands sticking to his sweaty forehead.

You whine when his middle finger finds your bud of nerves, drawing atrociously slow circles on it, adding just the right pressure to make you want more, beg for more.

"Do you feel me, baby? Feel my cock in your tight little pussy?" He hums in your ear, turning you crazy from the husky tone of his voice. You flutter your eyes as you turn your head, glancing at Jungkook's face, his own eyes not knowing where to look — your lonely lips, your perky nipples, his hard dick stretching out your hole.

"Yeah, feel you so deep in me, Kook," you reply back, and fuck do you really feel him.

It's like your first time, still feeling him days after your encounter. He's big, that's a fact, but he knows how to use it, and you got to experience it. You're lucky you're the only girl he wants to be inside of.

He groans when you clench and unclench around him, his cock completely covered in your wetness, sliding in you so smoothly, nothing restraining him at all — apart from his own intrusive thoughts.

He shifts his hand higher on your thigh, parting your legs wider from each other, now beginning to rock his hips against your ass. His head taps over your sweet spot repeatedly and you let him know by moaning out loud, babbling littles 'right here, Kook. Fuck, right here'.

You reach behind you to pass your fingers through Jungkook's soft black hair, his pink lips smooching the side of your throat, cherishing your skin in warm kisses. You place your other hand on top of his that is operating between your legs, doing quick circle motions over your puffy clit.

He drives his engorged cock in your wet pussy back and forth, totally out of breath, but refusing to stop, at least not until he has you spasming around his girth. You arch your back, frowning your brows as you feel the knot at the pit of your stomach tighten.

"Shit, you close, baby? I feel you sucking me in like crazy," he chuckles, a bit too lost in his own lust, loving how he feels so connected to you right now. You seriously can't be closer to each other than that.

You nod, and he says that he is, too. You whimper, almost feeling him in your guts, cock entering and exiting your quivering hole at a rapid pace that rips your breath out of your lungs.

"Gonna make you feel good," he promises. "Cum around me, sweetheart. Fucking cream my cock," Jungkook encourages and it doesn't take you much more to reach your high, thigh shaking in his hold.

And when it hits you, it hits you hard. You cry out his name, a sound he never wants to forget, limbs shaking from the intensity of your orgasm. Your velvety walls close around him tightly just the way he loves it, just the way it makes him come closer to the edge as well.

His hips jerk up, his skin slapping against your ass. "Ah, fuck, yeah," he rasps out, wetting his dried lips, "Good job, shit... Gonna cum," he praises and warns you at the same time, your orgasm being the cause of his own.

Jungkook steadies his hips and he fills you up, emptying himself inside your cunt. He shoots his hot cum in you in long, thick ropes, cock twitching. You moan with him, liking the familiar sensation of his release painting your walls white.

"Christ," he chokes out, laying his damp forehead on your shoulders, his chest heaving up and down rapidly.

When he pulls out, you immediately turn around to face him. You don't say much, just the usual to not make it awkward. He appreciates it, won't admit he wants to chat till 3 a.m., though.

The next morning is somewhat gentle, but it has a bitter taste. Your side of the bed is empty, the only remaining trace of your body being your perfume. And the soiled sheets underneath him.

He would have liked that all of this was only a dream, but no, it was yesterday. His eyes are puffy from the night of sleep he had, or maybe from tears.

He wonders where you are, when exactly you left. He misses the touch of your hands on his back, your fingers passing through his hair.

Those are the kind of mornings he hates. The awful and aching truth eventually coming back to him because he forgot the night before when he was with you.

And then the cycle repeats.

He goes back to class, puts his headphones back on, and turns on night mode. Clears his mind off of you — well, he tries to. He goes back to the places he knows, avoiding you religiously until he can't say no anymore.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fic #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut

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miguel-owhora · 6 months

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simon 'ghost' riley who behind the walls and masks and secrecy, is actually not the monster those he works with - outside the 141 at least - paint him out to be.

simon who has a collection of mesmerized dad jokes that he'll pull out with the most monotone and flattest voice ever, whose eyes twinkle in mirth when you groan at him and go on a rant about how bad his humor is, who'll crack a smile and chuckle. simon who doesn't necessarily find them funny, only likes dad jokes because of the reaction he gets from others.

simon who has a soft spot for animals, especially dogs. who'll always stop to pet them, to call them 'good lass/lad' even if they're just sitting there and letting him pet them, who probably ends up getting a dog or two of his own, his black clothing laced with dog hair. he'll complain when you eventually drag him to the petting zoo, but he goes quiet when you find him surrounded by lambs, all bleating at him. and it makes your heart flutter at the image, of this large, hulking man with blood and death on his hands, gently petting a lamb, the very animal of pure innocence.

simon who doesn't like mornings and will refuse to get up if it's the weekends. oh, you're busy that day? cancel all plans because simon will roll over and wrap himself around your body and drag you underneath the blankets. he'll smile, eyes crinkling in mirth and affection, and hold you tighter when you try to wiggle free. simon who fiddles with your matching wedding band, feeling a surge of warm affection flood through him at the idea of being married to the love of his life, that this is his reality, and it's one he wouldn't change for the world.

simon who doesn't cook because he'll burn his neighborhood down, and instead opts to watch you. he'll be your guinea pig for any new recipes, and surprisingly, despite how fucking white he is, his stomach is made of steel and can handle pretty much anything. still, he'll give his honest opinion and tell if it needs more seasoning or if it's good. and while he doesn't cook, he'll do his part and clean up afterwards.

simon whose love language is acts of service and/or quality time. he's more than happy to clean up after a good meal, and he finds the other chores grounding. it's repetitive and it's familiar, and there's something safe about it, yk? and something as simple as sitting next to you or watching you cook, or even sitting outside the bathroom whilst you do your skincare makes him feel warm and happy. he just likes to be around you, even if he doesn't talk sometimes and goes nonverbal, and well follow you around like a puppy. he enjoys going with you whenever you're out doing errand runs.

simon who's a passenger princess. this mf cannot drive, so you're the one who takes up the drive. but he's a passenger princess and whenever one of the other boys come to visit, he'll literally haul them out of the seat because that's his. he won't let anyone take it, especially not when you're driving.

simon who finds life after retirement calm, who enjoys the domestic life with you. he finds comfort in the smallest things. he finds comfort in you.

#simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost riley #ghost.txt #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x male reader

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hyewka · 2 months

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warnings. possibly unfaithful, switch!beomgyu, ex best friends, pull out method, drunk sex, not proofread

you’ve always felt big feelings towards beomgyu, after all he has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, its just never ever been lust, even as a teenage girl with rapidly changing hormones. you love beomgyu, but it was never romantic. and yet as much as it surprises you, in the moment, it feels so right. like this is exactly how its supposed to be. getting maniacally mounted by choi beomgyu in a bathroom with your sense overwhelmed with the soju and beer breath. yeah, that sounds about right.

you just hadn’t expected it to turn so sappy so quick, despite the alcohol in your systems.

“i missed you…i missed you, i missed you”

at some point, you would’ve guessed those repeated declarations would’ve faded into white noise had it been any other person—any other person but him. someone who’d you considered the most important being of your entire life, someone who you haven’t seen or heard from in two entire years when your entire relationship had consisted of seeing each other all the time, someone that you’ve also, terribly missed.

when you share the same sentiment, when you also feel the need to repeat it over and over again, the heartache you’ve felt and the utter devastating emptiness that you’ve lived with for so long now being satiated—the repetition doesn’t let the words turn into sounds of nothingness as it naturally would’ve. rather, it continues to ram against your skull every time he gasps and whines them. like it gains a deeper, more intimate meaning the more he whispers them against your neck, trailing his wet kisses along your jawline.

“what happened with him?”

it’s like he got worked up at his own question, gripping the plush of your ass so hard his nails painfully digs into your flesh, having you hiss. you don’t blame what you register as an involuntary response—your ex boyfriend was the sole reason for your fallout with beomgyu, it’s a sore subject to poke.

“we broke it off six—s-six months after.” after you and beomgyu fell out you would’ve said, but how can you when the prick’s practically ramming his cock in you.

“oh,” he groans speeding up his sloppy pace, finding more rhythm—all while wearing a dopey smile, the frown on his face returning to ecstasy. “why?”

“just didn’t work out.” you reply curtly, trying to move on from the topic of your ex. he lets you, humming contentedly.

there was a part deep inside him that urged him to be smug and petty with an i told you so, or get mad that you dumped him for a relationship so futile to your life, but he can’t find himself to do so as he gets lost further in the way your face contorts, reacting to each jerk of his hips. you’re perfect, he thinks to himself over and over again. you’re perfect.

he thinks he could cum right then and there.

but somethings on the tip of your tongue— in fact, the moment you had registered him inside your head when you went inside that damned karaoke room, you noticed the ring. you quickly dispelled your first thought—it doesn’t look like a ring for marriage, it looked far too casual for that.

but you had still eyed it practically the entire night curious if it held any meaning and you had so badly wanted to pry. then you finally concluded that beomgyu has always been into jewellery, rings no exception. an hour ago, you didn’t know why you were so curious of his relationship status. but now? now you’re being fucked. you have a reason, so you try to bite the bullet to satiate your curiosity. “what about you?” you choke out. however, your question immedietely evaporates from your head when he smashes his lips against yours again heaving.

you don’t question it, you melt into it, pulling him in closer to the point there’s absolutely no space between the two of you.

“missed you” he whines. it has you uncontrollably tumble out giggles between your smushed lips before he steals your breath away yet again. you feel like you’re on drugs, you’re so high off of the adrenaline you feel. never in a million years would you have expected the original deep set uncomfortable tension between the two of you three hours ago to turn into this. when you had been invited out to hang out with your old college friends to come in and be met with familiar faces—you just didn’t expect your joy to so quickly be replaced with suffocating dread when the most familiar looks you up and down.

you weren’t warned of his presence. and now you were crowded by it.

“i couldn’t,” you gasp, your hooded eyes flying open when he revisits a hickey, grazing his teeth. “i can’t, i can’t live without you. that’s what i’ve realized, i can’t do it.”

you nod over and over again along to his words, frankly out of it, rolling your hips pathetically in rhythm with his. “wh-what about you?” he asks, his vulnerablity on full on display. long gone was the confident, vulgarity that oozed out of him.

it turns you on so much, it’s wrong but it does—his teary eyes, imploring you to put him at ease as he drives his cock deep inside your cunt. it feels right, it feels natural to try it out with him. the moment your finger flick his nipples, beomgyu gives you an immediate, satisfactory reaction—a combination of a gasp and a shriek before his head just pathetically falls to bury his head into the junction of your shoulders.

“you’re sensitive,” you note, letting your fingers lightly lay against his chest. the faltering of his pace is extremely noticeable as he had been increasingly building up his pace. it gives you a rush of dopamine, enough of it to have you more confident with what you want.

“whyyy..why’d you touch..” his whines muffle into your skin.

you peel his head off your shoulder by a fist of his hair and for what feels to be the hundredth time this night, he knocks the breath out of you—he’s gorgeous. when you started making out earlier you had passively asked him to keep his glasses on, you didn’t expect him to make such an effort to keep them because it’s practically falling off the bridge of his nose, crooked and foggy. he looks like a perfect mess.

your ex boyfriend hated it—when you had introduced domming during sex it had immediately killed the mood even though he promised you afterwards that it totally wasn’t because of your risque play with his nipples. after a while, you believed him—you wanted to believe him so you tried to ease into it again, showing him some porn, he’d surely like it as much as you did. you were sorely mistaken. he didnt, he practically ridiculed you, basically implying you were a total freak. it’s one of the things that served as a catalyst for your eventual breakup.

but beomgyu, god, beomgyu.

he transcends even your wildest imagination—hes everything you’d wish to hear and more. when you experimentally let your finger twist his hard buds again as he attempts to pick up his rhythm he gurgles on his spit, moaning loud enough for you to completely lose it. he slows down again, almost completely stilling, looking like he’s about to sob with his face a shade of red and pink, as if hes asking you for mercy.

“what?” you slur, cocking your head. “who allowed you to stop? i was close.”

he shakes his head, bottom lip slightly wobbling, “i c-can’t. if you keep touching my-”

your groan cuts off his rant. “hurry up, my legs are starting to cramp up gyu.”

he flinches at your harshness, falling into a pout. it’s a habit that as long as you remember, had driven you up the wall. but right now, you can’t help but find the action adorable, in complete contrast to the dirty situation you’re in. “but what if i just…like, cum?”

you sigh, propping yourself up again, “when you feel it coming, pull out.” you say simply, which doesn’t seem to ease his mind but he doesn’t resist shaking his hips again. it isn’t long before he’s losing himself in you, slap of skin against skin no longer your concern, totally ignoring the semi public setting. the moment he feels like he has has the upper hand you do it again, playing with his nipples until you’re sure they’re pink and plump, sore.

he not once questions anything, which makes you feel so immensely comfortable. “he would’ve hated this,” you comment absentmindedly, more to yourself than beomgyu. you hadn’t even thought he picked up on it when suddenly he becomes a lot more vocal, moaning obnoxiously loud you would’ve definitely slapped him silly and hopped off his cock…had you not been completely trashed. your brain is turned off, only mustering up a wobbly smile as you drown in his outward display of pleasure. it makes you feel so powerful. he both exaggerates and at the same time actually fucking loses his sanity.

he says those words again, panting, eyes completely glazed over and mouth almost permanently hung open, his hand reaching down to shakily play with your clit, making you arch into his touch, absolutely out of breath. “can’t live without you,”

at that final declaration, you clench around his dick to which he immediately reacts, erratically fucking into you, having your tits jiggle lewdly. he thinks hes hypnotized, he thinks he would’ve probably just bust a nut inside you anyway, but he snaps out of it, getting a sense of clarity.

beomgyu's cock throbs one last time inside you, before he pulls out, giving his cock only one small pump before spurting his load, some of it landing on your stomach and legs, some dripping to the floor. he lets out a soft moan, his breath hot against your neck. after what you believe to be an eternity, your sweaty selves interwined with each other, wallowing in silence as you finally get your breathing controlled, beomgyu pulls away to look at you.

it’s like you truly are telepathically connected, something you’ve joked about for years due to the instance you’ve completed each other’s thoughts. but you’ve come to realize it might be closer to the truth than anything you’ve ever known to be true. your feelings were intertwined, scarily so.

so its to not to your surprise when he doesn’t ask for a round two, he knows. like he always does.

you just try to ignore the constant ringing of his phone.

#beomgyu smut #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt x reader

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oikasugayama · 6 months

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HOW HE F--KS YOU pt. 3

pt. 1 Dazai, Ranpo, Ango | pt. 2 Chuuya, Kunikida, Tachihara | pt. 3 Poe, Atsushi, Fukuzawa

SMUT AGAIN, gn!reader but multiple anatomies mentioned, MDNI

Poe

He fucks you submissively.

He whimpers. He whines. He cries. It just feels so good, he can't help it. He loves when you press him down into the mattress and fuck him. The weight of you on his hips holding him down while your cock/strap buries in his ass makes his whole body burn and tingle. When you lay on him and buck your hips repetitively, even if only shallowly, it makes him mewl and whine oh so prettily. He cums all over himself and the bed and makes such a mess and you tsk and tell him he has to clean it up before he's allowed to make you cum.

He was incredibly nervous the first time you started to get intimate. He almost backed out with tears in his eyes, saying he was just too nervous and he wasn't sure if he could please you, but you reeled him back into your arms and reassured him that you would help him figure things out. "I'll take good care of you, precious boy," you whispered, sending a shiver down his spine. You felt his erection against your leg and knew he liked you taking the lead, so you sank to your knees and once he gave you the green light you sweet talked him between sucking him dry.

He's only comfortable having sex at home, either yours or his. He's a creature of habit and of safe spaces, so he has to be somewhere he's very comfortable to start taking his clothes off and getting down. He gets more confident as time goes on and as he gets more practice, but he's still quite the sub for you.

He's calling you mommy if you identify as female. you can tell him to knock it off if you want.

When he takes the lead, he's very vanilla. He wants to eat you out and/or suck you dry, he wants to finger you and watch you squirm, he wants to fuck you and cum inside and tell you he'll make a pretty baby with you, though he always reassures you afterwards that he can pay for whatever necessary aftercare you need to avoid pregnancy, if that's what you require.

Atsushi

He fucks you obsessively.

If he could drown in your pussy/ass he would. He's diving in there headfirst every chance he gets. He loves when you wear dresses and skirts because he has easier access to your cunt. He'll dive under your skirt, tongue already out, lapping at your pussy like a dog drinking water. He gets so over excited that his hips are bucking even without anything for him to rut against.

When he fucks you doggy style, he fucks you doggy style. His arms are locked around your waist TIGHTLY, his back arched, he's panting and he's humping you as fast as he can, filling the air with obscene slapping sounds, moans, huffs, and whines. He thanks you for the use of your cunt/ass, telling you over and over "it's so good, thank you thank you, fuck, you're so good, baby please, I wanna cum, please can I cum?"

he! needs! praise! he needs you to tell him he's good, that he's making you feel good, that you're gonna cum because of him. He needs pets and kisses and your hands running through his hair. when he's feeling down and asks you for sex, you know the best position is lying on your sides facing each other, arms around each other, you kissing him and playing with his hair while he thrusts slowly, occasionally switching his cock for his hand to pleasure you then going back to his dick when his orgasm isn't so pent up. He likes to make these sweet sessions long because they're his favorite.

he likes sucking on your tits. even if you dont have any, he likes playing with your nipples. if your boobs are big and/or squishy, he's pawing at them every chance he gets, and he wants them in his mouth bad.

Fukuzawa

He fucks you expertly.

He's a good bit older than you, so he has more experience. After all, he's a lover not a fighter ;)

He makes everything feel special and sensual. He's the type to set up candles and gentle music and give you a full body massage before the first time you have sex. His hands gliding across your body, sneaking closer and closer to your crotch until finally his fingers are slipping inside/wrapping around you, making you moan his name out softly. he'll suck on your breasts, eat you out for a few minutes, and then fuck you (very responsibly with a condom) with confident, measured thrusts. he knoooows what he's doing ;)

He may occasionally joke that he's an old man, but he's still very fit and spry. No weak knees here, he's climbing on top of you or holding you up while having sex just like a "younger" guy would do.

He's theoretically against having sex anywhere that isn't home because it's very disrespectful, but sometimes his urges overtake his rational mind and he may ask you to come to the office in the middle of the day and it may or may not end up with you riding him in his office while the ADA employees are none the wiser on the other side of the door.

If you ever ask him to call you names or degrade you, he'll sternly tell you no, he doesn't like calling you names or being mean to you. But if you call him daddy... especially if he's already inside of you... he's getting a rush of arousal so strong it makes him cum instantly. he'll tell you not to do it again while blushing and secretly hoping that you will, so you hold onto it like a secret weapon. when you want him but he's busy, all you have to do is send him a tit pic and say "waiting for you, daddy <3" and he'll be home ASAP and bricked

#bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #atsushi x reader #atsushi headcanons #poe x reader #poe headcanons #fukuzawa x reader #fukuzawa headcanons #bungo stray dogs #bsd smut #atsushi smut #poe smut #fukuzawa smut

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 8 months

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Five.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - Does absence make the heart grow fonder, or does it just make everything ten times more difficult?

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. angst. mention of illness.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.7k

Author's Note - it's here!! as always, I can't thank you enough for your love, support and patience with this fic. us writers lead busy lives, and i've been trying my hardest to find the time to write whenever I can, so it means so much that you guys stick with me - even when things take longer than expected. love you all. you're angels. please feel free to spam my inbox with thoughts and suggestions - it always makes my day when you're all so passionate. mwah.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sand is warm beneath your feet, cooling breeze cascading across your skin. The waves caress the shore in repetitive motions, lulling you into calm.

Sunlight beaming down, you shield your eyes and look up, sighing in contentment at the shades of blue that paint the sky.

A shriek and a laugh come from somewhere on your right. You look over and see a couple and their toddler running after each other, sprinting down the beach and into the ocean. The little girl can't stop giggling, tripping over her own feet as she chases her parents. Something tugs at your heart, deep and visceral.

It's been three months since you left home.

It's been three months since you saw Bucky.

He calls every few days, trying to give you the space you need while also keeping in touch. You have to resist the urge to call him every ten minutes. It's an improvement, at least. It was five minutes when you first moved.

He texts you good morning and goodnight everyday without fail, just to let you know he's there. You can't sleep until you get his text. It's like a lullaby, reassuring and soothing. Like a chamomile tea, warming and calming you from the inside out.

You think about him the most at night time. Your days are spent running around preparing for the bakery. Testing, retesting, writing up recipes, measuring out quantities. You want it to be perfect.

The baking is taking your mind off Bucky, for the moment at least. You've thrown yourself into your new role, eager and excited. Stella's ecstatic to have you around. You love that you're still just as close as you were, despite the time apart. Friendships like that are rare.

Lacie calls you most nights. She demands to know what you did that day, who you spoke to, what you made. It's like therapy, sitting and decompressing together over videochat. She's a lifeline, whether she knows it or not.

And of course, the most supportive people in your life - your parents. Your Mom is desperate to come and visit, begging that you let her know when you're less busy so you can show her around. She loves the sunshine just as much as you. A woman after your own heart.

On the nights when the doubt creeps in, unwelcome and dark, you remind yourself how lucky you are. Surrounded by people who adore you, support you, love you unconditionally. And then the night doesn't seem so dark. The light pours through the cracks.

You walk home from the beach, warmed and carried by the knowledge of love.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"This is ridiculous."

Stella's perched on the edge of your countertop, blush pink macaron in her hand.

"Good ridiculous?"

She scoffs, looking at you incredulously.

"Where did your confidence go? You never doubted yourself in school. Yes, good ridiculous. It shouldn't work, but it does."

Shouldn't work, but it does. Seems to be the story of your life at the moment.

"I need these on the menu."

"You don't think they're a little... pretentious? My best seller is a chocolate chip cookie. A honey and rosewater macaron isn't exactly a childhood favourite."

"Babe. That's the beauty of this. You can put whatever the hell you want out in your bakery. So what if they're unconventional? They're delicious. That's all that matters."

"Okay. Fine."

You relent, thinking about her earlier question. Where did your confidence go? When you graduated culinary school, you never doubted your abilities. Your technique, your flavours, your presentation - you had full faith in all of it. Now, you seem to be second guessing yourself.

You know it's because of your Tethering.

Before, you understood how the world worked. Good, bad, in between. Love, lust, the very clear difference between the two. You watched as other people found their forever person, and acknowledged their new journey.

And then you found Bucky. Or, Bucky found you.

Suddenly, the world you'd lived in before no longer made sense. The people, the places, the relationships, all impacted by the way you feel about your soulmate. Everything, everyone, everywhere, reminds you of Bucky. You're experiencing emotions you've never felt before. It's disorientating, confusing, complex. Your understanding of the world has changed completely.

It takes time to adjust.

No one ever talks about the way your Tethering turns your life upside down.

For some, it's completely positive. They enjoy the uprooting, revel in the change.

For others, it's a huge adaptation. One filled with tears, and confusion, and doubts.

Both are valid. Both are understandable.

You remind yourself of this every day.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"There's someone in the café that wants to speak to you."

The youngest waitress, Isabel, stands in the kitchen doorway, looking at you hopefully. You set down your piping bag and wash your hands, talking to her over your shoulder.

"Who is it?"

"No idea. Some guy. He's kinda hot. Brown hair, tall, beard."

Your heart skips a beat, breath caught in your lungs. Bucky jokes sometimes about coming to see you, but would he just show up announced? Do you want him to?

You can't feel it in your chest, you realise suddenly. You can't feel the ease, the relief, the knowing. Maybe being apart for so long has weakened your connection. The thought makes you strangely emotional.

You inhale carefully and thank her, before making your way out. It's almost closing time, and there's no one around other than the man stood with his back to you.

He turns around, and you realise quickly that your hope was misplaced. You've never seen this person before. He is handsome, admittedly. But he's not your soulmate.

"Hi."

"Hey. Are you the baker here?"

"I am."

He holds out his hand for you to shake, stepping closer.

"I'm Rafael."

You tell him your name, and he smiles, nodding.

"Forgive me if this is weird, but I had to meet you. To thank you properly, in person."

You don't say anything, so he continues.

"Let me, uh, explain. Sorry, should have started with that. My sister is sick. She's going through treatment currently, and it's been super hard on her. She's had no appetite whatsoever, and she's losing weight rapidly."

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

"A couple of weeks ago, I picked up a load of stuff from this place because my Mom was coming to visit. My sister tried your earl grey and lavender cookie, and ate the entire thing. It was the first time I've seen her eat for weeks. So, I came back and bought basically all of them every day."

You laugh, coming to a realisation. You wondered why those cookies were selling so well all of a sudden.

"I just wanted to say thank you. It might not seem like a big deal, but it's really huge for us. I also wanted to explain why all of those cookies were suddenly going missing at like ten in the morning."

You gesture at him to sit, the both of you taking a seat at one of the tables nearby.

You talk for almost an hour, listening intently to Rafael as he tells you about his family. He moved to California to be with his sister Maria when she got sick, no one else around to care for her. He asks about yours, and you tell him about your parents and their constant encouragement. He's also interested in how you got into baking, so you tell him all about culinary school, and the dreams your Grandma gave you when you were a kid.

"You're really talented, you know."

"I bet you say that to all of the bakers around here. But thank you."

His fingers brush yours where they're resting on the table, making you shiver.

"I'll make Maria her own box, if you like. I'll leave them behind the counter, just tell Isabel who you are."

"You'd do that for her?"

"Of course," you smile. "The idea that I'm helping someone with my silly little creations makes me really happy. We can work out a schedule, and I'll make sure I bake Maria some extras when I do my usual batch."

"You're incredible. Seriously. Thank you."

He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. The two of you are sat in the café as the sun sets, orange glow illuminating the room. You didn't expect to make a friend today. You're glad you have.

"Well, I should probably go and clean up the kitchen. You know where to find me, if you need anything. It was lovely to meet you, Rafael."

He rises when you do, smiling at you earnestly.

"You too. Nice to finally put a face to the cookie, so to speak."

You chuckle and show him out of the door, waving as he walks down the street. Suddenly, he turns around, striding back towards you.

"I'm so sorry if this is forward, and please feel free to say no, but... are you single? If you are, I'd love to ask you to dinner sometime."

The answer to that question is much more complicated than Rafael could ever imagine. So instead, you say,

"I'm not. I'm Tethered, actually."

His brows raise in surprise, but he's smiling.

"You are?"

"Yeah, I am. He doesn't live here, though. He lives back home, where my parents are."

"You guys are married?"

"No! Not yet. It's, uh... a complex... situation."

"Ah," he says, gentle, knowing look on his face. "I thought Tetherings weren't meant to be complex. Isn't that the whole point? That they're easy?"

You laugh, but it's not malicious. You're thinking about how sweetly naive he is, how he's got a huge storm coming his way one day.

"He's my Dad's best friend."

You're not sure why you're admitting this to a man you met an hour and a half ago, but you are. It's almost a relief, to get it off your chest again - to tell someone who's completely neutral, who doesn't know either of you.

"Woah."

"Yeah."

"That... is complicated."

"Yeah," you chuckle. "Understatement of the century."

Rafael leans against the wall, watching you intently. He's curious.

"How did your parents react?"

"They don't know yet."

His eyebrows raise almost comically high.

"Wait, what? How did you hide that? I thought it was supposed to be impossible to hide that you're Tethered. Although, I guess I had no idea, seeing as I asked you out."

"We wanted to figure it out for ourselves first, before telling anyone. And then I moved out here, so we're doing long distance. Like I said, complex."

"Understatement of the century," he laughs.

You look at each other for a moment, before he smiles.

"I'm sorry I asked you out. I wouldn't have, if I'd known."

"Please, don't apologise. I admire your... courage?" you grin. "And I appreciate you coming to see me today. I have like two friends here in Cali, so it's nice to feel like I've made another."

He smiles again, wider this time. Someone's going to be lucky to be Tethered to him one day, you think.

"I know it might surprise you, given my good looks and... courage," he chuckles, "but I don't have many friends out here either. I've been so focused on Maria, I haven't had time to socialise."

"The Universe works in funny ways, huh?"

"Sure does."

You wander back through the door, ready to close up for good this time.

"I'll see you tomorrow, for the cookies. And I'd love to meet Maria one day, if she's up for it."

"I'm sure she'd love to meet you. I'll bring her by."

"Thanks, Rafael."

"Of course. Thank you."

"Of course."

That night, when your Mom calls, you get to tell her you've made a new friend. That makes the both of you very happy.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're testing out a recipe in the kitchen of your new apartment when your phone rings.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey, kiddo. You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I am, actually. I'm settling in."

"Good, I'm glad. I don't wanna keep you on the phone for too long, but I wanted to ask you something."

"Go ahead, Dad. Anything."

"How would you feel about surprising your Mom for her birthday?"

"What kind of surprise?"

"I know you haven't been gone all that long, and I know it's kind of last minute, but, I was thinking you could come back to... be her gift? She really misses you, you know."

"I miss her too," you say softly, trying to keep your voice even. "I'll talk to Stella, see if we can figure something out. I'd really love to see you guys."

"We'd really love to see you too, sweetheart."

"I'll call you back later, when I've organised everything. Love you, Dad. See you soon, hopefully."

"Love you, kiddo. Proud of you, you know."

"I know," you smile. "I know."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The journey always seems shorter when you know you're going home.

You make it back in record time, salty ocean breeze whipping through your hair as you cruise along the roads. You take a deep breath and sigh it out, relief filling your lungs. It's good to be back.

You can't let your Mom see you, so you head straight back to your apartment. Your Dad told you they're in the process of renting it out, but they haven't made much progress yet. For now, it's still yours.

You inhale the familiar scent, smiling gently. There's something so particular about the way a place smells when you feel like you belong there. It's like home and comfort and ease all rolled into one.

You unpack a little, folding your clothes and tucking them into the dresser. You told Stella you'd probably stay a few days, wanting to spend as much time with your family as possible. You're rifling through the refrigerator and thinking about a grocery list when there's a knock at your door.

You know who it is.

A feeling of relief washes over your body, tension melting from your shoulders. Your lungs fill easier, your breath falls deeper, everything is a little brighter, a little more colourful.

You open the door to be met with the sight of Bucky Barnes.

He's in work pants and a white t shirt that's stained with grease and oil, heavy boots on his feet. He must have come straight from the Garage.

He looks at you carefully, as if he isn't sure that you're real. You rake your eyes over his form, trying to drink him in. All the pictures you've taken and saved don't do him justice.

He exhales, beaming grin appearing on his face.

"You're here."

You can't help but smile back, his happiness spreading through you.

"I'm here."

Bucky rushes forward and scoops you into his arms, enveloping you completely. He wraps himself around you as he tucks you into his chest, his grip tight and unrelenting. You breathe him in, overwhelmed with emotion and sensation. You didn't realise how much you needed this. Three months is too long.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, slight shake in his voice. He's holding off tears. So are you.

"My Dad wanted me to surprise my Mom for her birthday. It's all a secret."

He smiles, before leaning down to capture your lips in a knee buckling kiss. A kiss that says I missed you. A kiss that says I need you. A kiss that says please don't leave me again.

"How did you know?" you whisper when you pull away for air.

"I felt it. I think I knew the moment you arrived back in town. Thought my mind was playing tricks on me, for a second. But there's no mistaking that feeling. I had to come and see for myself."

"We're getting pretty good at this whole soulmate thing, huh?" you laugh, unaware of the tears running down your face. "I missed you, Buck. So much."

"I missed you too," he murmurs, kissing you again. "Didn't think I was going to survive, some days."

"Me too. Do you know how many times I stood with my car keys in my hand, ready to drive back to you?"

He chuckles and then sniffles, emotion dripping down his cheeks.

"I did exactly the same thing. So many times."

You wrap your arms around his middle, reveling in the way he smells like gasoline and home.

"How long are you here for?" he murmurs, worried he'll disturb the peace.

"I'm not sure. A good few days, at least."

"Okay," he breathes. "I can do a few days. We can do a few days."

"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't know, to be honest. It was all kinda last minute."

"It's okay, pretty thing," he mutters into your hair. "It was a nice surprise."

"You're coming tonight, right? To my Mom's party?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

You stay wrapped up in each other for a little while longer, savouring his warmth. He rubs absentminded patterns across the skin of your back, committing the softness of it to his memory.

"I should probably get back to work. I took off with no warning."

"You're the boss. You're allowed," you chuckle.

He laughs with you, and the sound lights up your nerves, illuminates your bones. It settles itself in the hollows of your ribcage, tangles itself in your heartstrings. It's like medicine.

"Can't wait to see you tonight," you whisper. "Wear something cute."

"I always do," he winks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Miss you already."

"Miss you more."

He looks at you, smiling.

"Man, we're the worst."

"Truly."

He kisses you once, twice, three times before finally leaving, reluctant to let you go. You spend the rest of the afternoon floating on air, relaxed and at ease. You haven't felt like this in a while.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Your Dad sneaks you into the house through the side door, hiding you in the kitchen as he ushers your Mom through to the back yard.

It's decorated with floral garlands and streamers, flowers in vases covering the table he's set up. The golden, warm fairy lights illuminate the space, keeping it soft and intimate. He's been watching, carefully observing the way that she does things. He's recreated her party style perfectly.

There's a few of her closest friends waiting for her, gifts littering the spare chairs. Your Dad walks her outside, hands covering her eyes.

"Surprise!"

You watch through the door as your Mom gasps, grin on her face.

"Oh my God! You guys!"

She runs into your Dad, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I can't believe you managed to pull this off," she says in disbelief.

He sets her back down on the ground and kisses her gently.

"I got you something. I hope you like it."

That's your cue. You sneak out as quietly as possible, standing behind her.

"Happy Birthday, Mama."

She whips around to face you, shock written across her face. Her eyes well up, tears threatening to spill. Yours do the same, bottom lip quivering.

She throws her arms around you, tugging you into her.

"I'm so happy you're here, baby girl. I missed you so much."

"Missed you. You look beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you! Look at you, all sun kissed and glowy. You look so pretty, sweetheart."

You grin at her and she does the same back, your Dad beaming at your identical smiles.

"You're the best gift I've ever received. Then and now."

You're overwhelmed, suddenly, by the realisation that no matter what happens, no matter what life throws at you, no matter how many miles are between you - your Mom will always be in your corner. Your Dad will always be in your corner. Bucky will always be in your corner.

You think, for a moment, that despite everything, you might just be okay.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The night goes off without a hitch.

You drink, you laugh, you sing. You and your Mom dance to ABBA, Bowie, Donna Summer. Your Dad joins in, and can't help but grin every time he watches his girls together.

What a life, he thinks. I'm the luckiest man in the world.

When everyone gets a little past tipsy, your Mom changes the music to something slower, jazzier, richer. Your Dad pulls her into his chest, holding her close as they move to the melody. You're sat at the table taking off your heels when Bucky slides into the seat next to you. He pulls your foot into his lap and undoes the strap, sliding the shoe off gently. He rubs his thumb into your sole, smirking when you groan.

"Have you been avoiding me tonight, pretty baby?"

His cheeks are flushed slightly, top few buttons of his shirt open. He's been drinking a little, his walls lowered more than usual.

"I have to."

"Oh yeah?"

"I feel like I'm gonna burst into flames every time you look at me," you whisper. "I kinda want to rip your clothes off, baby."

He groans at the nickname. You know exactly what you're doing.

"It only takes one look for a minute too long to figure out how I feel about you, Buck. They'll work it all out instantly."

"Dance with me," he murmurs suddenly. "Your parents are too busy staring into each others eyes. Come on, honey. One dance."

His big blue eyes bore into yours, and you know you're fucked. You're never going to be able to say no to him.

"One dance," you whisper.

He takes your hand and leads you to the decked area, brightened by the golden lights. Bucky slides a hand over your back, resting there carefully. You intertwine your fingers with his and step into him, embracing the warmth that rolls off his body.

I'll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday begins to play, and the two of you start to sway gently, eyes never leaving each others. Bucky pulls you in closer, and you melt into him. You don't care about the repercussions anymore.

Maybe it's the wine talking. Maybe it's something else.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"That was close!"

Your Mom's giggling as your Dad holds her, having just saved her from tripping down the front steps. Everyone's giddy, both from drinking and from laughing.

"Sweetheart. Bucky. Come back for lunch tomorrow. Your Dad ordered too much catering, and we need help eating it."

"Mama, are you sure?"

"I want to see you as much as possible before you go, babygirl. You too, Buck. I feel like we don't see you as much as we used to."

"He'll be there," you reply before he can protest. "We'll carpool, and I'll bring a strawberry and cream tart that I made for you."

She kisses you on the cheek, your Dad leaning in to kiss the other side.

"Love you both."

"Love you," they say in unison, laughing and yelling jinx. "Get home safe, you two!"

"I'll take care of her," Bucky chuckles. "Always."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Why don't you see my parents much anymore?"

You and Buck are walking home along the sandy coastal path, fingers intertwined and sides pressed together. You look up at him, frowning slightly when he hesitates.

"Don't lie to me, James. I can feel it, remember."

You place a hand on your chest to remind him, and he nods.

"It's not the same here without you."

You weren't expecting the sincerity. It knocks you off balance a little.

You stop when you reach a wooden bench, sitting down and pulling him with you.

"So you're isolating yourself from the people who love you?"

He smiles, sadness rife in his eyes. Your tough guy act is crumbling.

"Not on purpose. It just kinda happened."

"You promised you'd talk to me, Buck. Especially if it got too hard. You need to accept support from people, or everything is going to come crashing down."

"I know. I know. But every time I go to their house, I'm expecting you to be there. Every time I go to the beach, I'm expecting you to be there. Every time I walk past your building, I'm expecting you to be there, waiting for me to pick you up. Even when I'm sailing, I can't stop thinking about that day we spent on the boat."

"The other day I had to make three batches of buttercream, because I messed up the first two. I was so distracted thinking about you that I split them both."

He laughs, then, wholehearted and genuine. You can't help but join him, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.

"Bucky, you have to promise that you'll keep going, even without me. You have to see my Mom and Dad like you used to, you have to still sail and go to the beach. You can't put your life on hold for me."

He takes a deep breath, sliding an arm around your shoulders to pull you in closer.

"Okay. I promise."

You whip your head around to look at him.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that, honey. You're right. I've been waiting for you to come back, so I can start living again. But life is still happening, whether you're here or not."

"Wise words, wise man," you smile. "Not a minute goes by where I don't think of you. You know that, don't you?"

"I know. I feel it."

You watch as he brings your linked hands to his chest, placing them there. You rest your head on his shoulder, lulled into calm by the steady melody of his heart. You swear it beats to the rhythm of your name.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you can't bear the idea of separating, so Buck comes home with you.

"Have you got a blanket?" he asks as he's kicking off his shoes.

"I have. What for?"

"The couch."

You process for a moment before it clicks.

"You're not sleeping on the couch, Buck."

"No?"

"No. I want your ridiculous, radiator-like body heat in bed with me."

He smiles, all giddy and lopsided, before striding across the room to you. Cradling your face in his rough hands, he kisses you with fervour. He's making up for lost time.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging and pulling, smirking when he groans. He retaliates by grabbing your ass and picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carries you through to your bedroom, lips never leaving yours.

Throwing you down onto the bed, he pulls his shirt over his head, watching you hungrily as you do the same with your dress. You're left in your underwear, leaving little to the imagination.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs. "Makes me want to cry."

You reach for him as he settles on top of you, your hand sliding along his stubbled cheek.

"I'm so glad you're feeling what I'm feeling," you whisper. "I'd think I was going insane otherwise."

Bucky kisses you again, before trailing his lips across your jaw, your ear, your neck. He's careful not to leave any marks, as much as he wants to. You glide your hands along the expanse of his shoulders, his back, his biceps. He's so strong, so broad. It makes you ache.

"So fuckin' pretty," he mumbles against your chest. "Like a goddamn dream."

You throw your head back as he attaches his mouth to your tits, nipping and sucking as he goes. Your hands are in his hair again, reveling in the way his groans vibrate through you.

Bucky slots his knee in between your legs as he kisses across your chest, smirking when you grind your hips into it. You chase the friction as best you can, moaning when it hits you just right.

"Needy baby. You don't want my fingers? My mouth? No? Just my knee?"

You nod, then shake your head. You're not sure what you're asking for, drunk on him already.

"Please, Buck. Anything."

"I'll give you whatever you want if you keep saying my name like that."

He makes quick work of pulling your underwear down your legs, swiping his fingers through your wet heat.

"Oh, fuck," he chokes. "Fuck, honey. Is this all for me? Hmm?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

"Yeah?"

"It's yours, Buck. I'm yours."

Bucky drops his head forward, bumping your nose with his.

"I think that's my favourite thing you've ever said," he mumbles against your mouth.

You reach up to kiss him, sucking his tongue before biting at his lips. You can't get close enough. Every inch of your skin is pressed to his, and you still want more.

Bucky crawls down the bed, situating himself between your legs. He nudges at you with his nose before diving in, lapping at you like a man starved.

You'd forgotten what people said about sex when you're Tethered, but it all comes back to you now. Everything is heightened, your senses on overdrive. It's like Bucky has the handbook to your body, and all he has to do is read the instructions the Universe has given him.

He's got you teetering on the edge in no time, right on the precipice. No ones ever made you feel like this. It feels like some sort of small miracle is happening, an otherworldly connection.

"Give it to me, honey baby," he murmurs into you. "Let me see how pretty you look when you come."

You tug at his hair as you reach your climax, the vibrations of his groan only prolonging your release. Bucky helps you ride it out, only ceasing his action when he's satisfied you're satisfied.

He rests his head against your thigh and looks up at you as you come down, breathing heavily.

"You good?"

"So good," you grin. "Never better."

"Me neither," he whispers, crawling up your body to kiss you again. You taste yourself and whine, desperate to feel closer to him.

"Need you," you demand against his lips. "Need you more than anything."

"I know, baby," he soothes as he smooths the hair back from your face. "Gonna give you everything you want. Anything in the world."

You're on the verge of tears again, completely overwhelmed. He's looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. You think maybe you would, if he asked you to.

Bucky slides home in one gentle thrust, easy as breathing. The both of you exhale, savouring the moment. It's like nothing either of you have ever felt before.

You pull his face down to you, resting your foreheads against each other.

"Buck, I-"

"I know," he breathes. "Fuck, I know."

"Need you to move, baby."

He nods and kisses you sweetly, before pulling his hips back and gliding forward. The angle is just right, both of you keening.

"Fuck, honey. So pretty. So tight. Fuck."

Bucky sets a steady rhythm, not too fast, not too slow. It's like he can read your mind, knowing exactly what you need. All you can say is his name as stars cloud your vision.

He slides his hand down your front, rubbing perfect circles on your clit with his fingers. You clamp down on him and he groans, low and gutteral.

"Need you to come, pretty baby," he whispers hoarsely. "Please. Waited so long for this. Please."

The desperation in his tone is what throws you into your release, muscles tensing and back arched. You grip his biceps, scratching your nails into his sun kissed skin.

Bucky can't hold on any longer, falling over the edge with you. The way he says your name as he does will be ingrained in your mind forever.

He drops his weight onto you entirely, no longer able to hold himself up. You wrap your arms around him, drawing absent minded patterns across his back. You're both sweating and panting. You're both completely content.

"Holy shit," he whispers after a while.

"You think it's gonna be like that every time?" you ask, grinning.

Bucky rolls off you and lands on the bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.

"Honey, just you wait. I've got moves you've never seen."

You snort, unable to hold in your laughter. You're floating on cloud nine, satiated and warm.

"You're the worst," you giggle, running your fingers over his abs gently.

The two of you stay intertwined for hours, enjoying the way your bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. You both drift in and out of sleep, conversing in the gaps. At some points, you just lay in silence, completely comfortable. No one needs to say anything. You both know what the other person is thinking.

Eventually, the sun rises, casting the room in a golden orange glow. Bucky looks like an angel, illuminated by the morning light. You wonder for a second if he is, sent down as a gift to you.

Suddenly, you feel an intense sadness in your chest. You look up at Bucky from where you lay across him, and see a single tear drip down his cheek.

"I don't want you to go."

The only sound that can be heard is his sorrow hitting the pillow.

"I don't think I want to go."

He strokes your hair softly, taking a deep breath to try and get a handle on his emotions.

"You have to, baby. It's your dream."

Your bottom lip wobbles for a second, before the words come spilling out.

"You're my dream."

Bucky sniffles, and you continue.

"I could have nothing, but I have everything if I have you."

You sit up and Bucky does too, capturing your lips in a tear stained kiss.

"We'll be okay, my honey girl."

You crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, letting his warmth bleed into your bones.

"I know," you say, unsure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.

You know you'll be okay. It just doesn't feel like it right now.

You wonder how many times you can keep leaving and coming back before one of your hearts breaks for good.

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

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bloomingdog · 3 months

Text

Price with an ADHD reader

So self indulgent!

John Price who feels self-conscious thinking you like Soap more because of your similar personalities.

Soap and you are a tumultuous pair, feeding off each other’s energy, you’re good friends, you hang out together just the two of you. He’s not jealous, especially not of Johnny, but he does feel a pang of self-consciousness at times, feels bad about not being able to keep up with you sometimes, about not being enough. He wouldn’t share those thoughts with you, more of an inside thing, he feels silly. Of course those doubts melt away as soon as you’re telling him about how your day went, about how much you missed him, about what reminded you of him. All the possible doubts he had leaving as he gets showered with kisses.

John Price who just stands and watches when you get the zoomies.

A sudden burst of energy has you walking up and down the house following John around, jumping from topic to topic to the latest song lyrics or idle dance move stuck in your head. He watches in amusement and tries to engage in your jumping conversation.

John Price who falls asleep during your late night yapping and still responds with nonsense answers while asleep.

“-And yeah apparently emus can’t walk backwards, don’t you think that's weird? How can an animal just not do that?” Your before-bed rant has been going on for longer than usual, inspired by a Wikipedia rabbit hole that still lingers in your phone’s history.

“Does Laswell know?” He mumbles.

“About emus?”

John Price who’s reluctant to lay on top of you if you ask.

“Please, please, please it’ll feel good!”

“Love, I’d crush you.” He had gotten you a weighted blanket for this exact reason. “Ain’t the blanket enough?”

“No! Because the blanket’s cold and you’re so much better better!” He’s reluctant, your puppy eyes are working overtime getting him to agree, which he does, of course.

John Price who just sighs and plays along when you ask him to wrestle you.

In your defense, it' was's a good way to get rid of extra energy or help while understimulated. He’s currently got you in the loosest headlock he can manage while you kick and thrash.

“Are you tired yet?” No answer comes, just more kicking that makes him release you.

As you try to attack him again, John effortlessly picks you up and throws you on the bed, which earns him a fit of giggles followed by an attempt to tackle him that ends you back in bed.

John Price who comforts you if you ever think you’re too much for him.

Big tears are coming down your eyes and wetting your face, you couldn’t pinpoint where all these feelings came from. You’ve got your face against his chest, voice shaking as you explain how you feel.

“I’m just a lot, you know? And I need you all the time and you like being alone and i want to give you space and I try, but I’m too much and-”

“Okay love, c’mon, none of that.” He cut you off after probably the thirtieth ‘and’. “We need what we need, and we work ‘round that all the time, don’t we? You’re not too much, you’re good just the way you are.”

John Price who lets you use him as a human fidget.

You’ve been waiting in this queue for no more than 5 minutes and it’s still getting you impatient, he notices, of course. The rapid looking-around, your foot tapping are all tell-tale signs of it. He extends his hand to you, which you take, and begin fidgeting with his digit and gloves, it keeps you well occupied, concentrated in the repetitive moments as time passes.

John Price who <3

#i caved and wrote for him and ill write for my babygirl soap in due time as well.....#john price #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #cod x reader #cod mw2 fanfic

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grandprixwinnerlandonorris · 7 months

Text

Water | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: you go to your local gym hoping you'll see the new guy that also happened to become your gym crush. What you didn't expect is to find out that he noticed you too

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, some dirty talk

A/N: I wrote this in like an hour or so, so it might not be the greatest of my works, but lord knows we need it after that quali session. Also the song was a big inspo 🤪

It was getting late and the gym was nearly empty. You had come to get a workout in, yet felt oddly out of sync with your body. Despite feeling drained, you sauntered through the area, your eyes lingering on the shiny metal surfaces of the exercise equipment. You were expecting solitude at this time of night, but noticed a few others around as well.

This week, you couldn't help but notice a new face at the gym. While checking him out from a distance, he has unexpectedly become someone you kind of crush on. You couldn't deny that part of your motivation for returning to the gym was the chance of seeing him again.

And just your luck, he was already there and had started his training session. You tried not to gawk, but you couldn't help it. He moved with such grace, each repetition of the exercises looking like a dance. His muscles flexed and tensed as he lifted weights and you found yourself mesmerized by the beauty of it all.

Mustering all your strength, you moved closer to one of the machines and started performing your own exercises. You sensed him looking at you without acknowledging your presence, but it was almost as if he didn’t notice you at all. Yet suddenly something out of left field happened.

"That's not correct. You're going to hurt yourself if you keep doing it like that." it was him, speaking up in a soft yet firm voice that startled you out of your daze.

You frowned a bit, confused. "This is how my personal trainer showed me to do it."

"I'm sure he did. But that's not how you do it." he grinned. "You're only going to get pain and no gain."

"And how would you know?" what you didn't expect is to get annoyed with him, but here you were, fighting the urge not to roll your eyes.

"I'm a professional athlete, I know." you could just tell this guy relished in being right and correcting people.

"Oh, yes? And what kind of athlete are you?" you snorted.

"I'm a formula 1 driver."

Your eyes widened as he said that. You had never met a professional athlete before, let alone one who drove a formula 1 car. You tried to play it cool, but your curiosity got the best of you. "That's impressive. I didn't know we had any formula 1 drivers in this town."

"You don't," he said with a smirk. "I'm just passing through for a race in a neighboring city. I like to keep up with my training while I'm on the road."

You nodded, still in shock. You had never spoken to someone so accomplished before. "Well, I'm honored to be corrected by a professional athlete. Can you show me how to do it correctly?"

He grinned and stepped closer to you, his body heat making your heart race. "Of course. I'd be happy to help. And my name is Lando, by the way."

For the next hour, Lando guided you through different exercises, correcting your form and giving you tips on how to improve. You felt a sense of gratitude towards him, appreciating the time he was taking to help you out.

He was easy to talk to as well, and you found yourself opening up to him. He, in turn, shared his own stories, and soon enough, the conversation turned flirtatious.

You didn't know if it was the adrenaline from the workout or the thrill of being in his presence, but you found yourself wanting him in a way you hadn't before.

As the gym started to empty out, you glanced at the clock and noticed that it was almost closing time. You both were still talking, and neither of you seemed to want to leave.

"We should probably get going," you said with a hint of disappointment.

He smiled and nodded his head in agreement, but then he leaned in closer and whispered into your ear. "I know a place we can go for some privacy."

Your heart raced as his words sunk in, and before you knew it, you found yourself following him out of the gym towards the locker rooms.

As soon as you entered, Lando grabbed your hand and pulled you towards one of the empty stalls. His lips crashed onto yours and you felt your body ignite with desire. His hands roamed your body, tearing every piece of clothing that restrained him from your skin, exploring every inch as you kissed him back with equal fervor.

He lifted you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold wall. His kisses were urgent and demanding, and you met his passion with your own. He devoured your mouth, his hands squeezing your boobs and pinching your nipples. The sensation shot straight to your core, making you arch your back and moan louder.

Lando trailed his kisses down your neck, his teeth nibbling on your skin, leaving behind a path of marks. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer to you, urging him to go further.

"You have no idea how much I've been thinking about you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

"Tell me," you whispered back, loving the way his cock throbbed against your thigh.

"Thinking about what I would do to you if I had the chance."

He pushed you against the wall, his fingers parting your folds and finding your clit. He rubbed it in circles, making you shudder against him, and when he pushed his fingers inside you, you cried out.

"Tell me how bad you want my cock, baby," he growled. "Tell me."

You gasped for air as he worked his fingers inside you, your muscles tightening around them. He brought you to the brink and then stopped, leaving you to whimper in the darkness.

"Please, Lando. I need more," you begged.

"Oh, you'll get more," he grinned. "But first, you need to show me how much you want it."

You squinted your eyes in confusion at his words. Before you could ask what he meant, he placed you on your feet and pushed you towards the wall, your hands pressing against it.

"Now, I want you to touch yourself while I watch," he commanded.

You followed his instructions, your hands exploring your body and eventually slipping between your legs. Your eyes never left his gaze, and he took his time undressing. As you teased yourself by tracing circles around your clit, imagining him inside of you, the bulge in his pants was growing bigger. Finally, he removed his shorts, exposing his thick, hard member.

As soon as it sprung forward, you pushed two fingers inside yourself and moaned at the sensation. You watched as he pumped his cock in his hand, the look in his eyes filled with lust. You smiled and continued fingering yourself, arching your back and twisting your body as you watched the way his muscles tensed.

"You have no idea how bad I want to fuck you right now."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and as you continued staring at him, he grabbed your wrist and pressed it against his cock. You bit your lip and moaned out loud as you felt the warmth of his flesh against you, stroking himself as you fucked yourself with your fingers.

He pressed his body close to yours, the heat and moisture of his skin merging with your own. His lips found their way to your neck and he kissed you ever-so-softly. You could feel his cock throbbing against your thigh. Then, his kisses intensified, with his teeth grazing gently across your skin. He suckled at your neck while his fingers dug lightly into your flesh.

"You like this, don't you?" he growled into your ear. "You like being commanded."

"Yes," you hissed. "I love it."

"I want to fuck you until you can't walk. I want you to scream so loud the whole gym can hear you. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes," you moaned again. "I will. I'll do anything you want."

"Good girl."

He grabbed your hair and forced your head back against the wall, his lips finding their way to yours again. He kissed you, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, fighting for domination. You moaned loudly, grinding your hips against his. He grabbed your ass and squeezed it, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

The head of his cock found its way to your entrance, and he didn't waste any time. He lifted one of your legs up and pushed himself inside. You moaned against him, your skin flushing as he filled you to the brim. He held onto you tightly as he thrust himself inside you, his hips pushing against yours. You sucked his tongue into your mouth, your body shaking as you cried out in ecstasy.

He grabbed your remaining leg and pulled you up against him, your legs instinctively twining around his waist. Taking both of your wrists in his secure grip, he held them above your head, your breasts jolting with each successive thrust. He sped up the tempo as time passed, his body pressing hard into yours.

You had never been fucked like this before, and you loved every second of it. The way he controlled your body made you feel more feminine than you ever had, and you felt yourself craving more.

He let go of your hands and you fell into him. You held him tight, your nails digging into his back. Your bodies were pressed up against each other, sticky and sweaty, and as he thrust himself inside you, you could feel his bare chest rubbing against your hard nipples. He groaned, his cock pulsing inside you as he held you close.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs tightening around his waist. He groaned into your lips, his eyes locking into yours. You bit your lip and smiled, whispering "Faster."

He complied and you tried to keep quiet as he fucked you harder, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. Your breath was coming out in ragged breaths, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room.

He put you down and turned you around, pressing you against the wall again, his cock still buried inside of you as he planted kisses all over your back. He slammed into you quicker and harder, his hips colliding with your ass with every thrust.

With one hand still on your hips, Lando reached down between your legs and found your clit, teasing it as you came closer and closer to orgasm. You knew you couldn't hold on any longer, so you grabbed his hand and pulled it away from your sensitive flesh. He smiled and grabbed your face, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

Spinning you around once more, he picked you up and put you onto his cock, your legs wrapping securely around him. You could tell he liked to be in control so much as he took charge and started moving your hips up and down his length. His fingers groped your ass, his tongue teasing your nipples as you moaned in pleasure.

You felt him swell inside you, and your own orgasm started building up inside of you. You could feel it coming closer and closer with every movement of his thrust, until finally it arrived, crashing through both of you like a wave. You screamed in pleasure as Lando pumped one last time into you before coming hard himself, his entire body shaking with release.

Slowly he lowered you onto the floor, both of you still breathing heavily from the intense session that just took place. He took a step back to look at you, admiring every inch of your glistening body from the workout you just did.

"I guess I can tell my personal trainer that you're a better instructor than him."

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sonarspace · 23 days

Text

sweet syrup, satoru gojo

synopsis: emotions are all over the place when fwb!gojo stands you up… for another girl? content: fluff (kinda). smut (food play, fem!receiving, orgasm, unprotected sex) wc: 3.1k a/n: another fic within 24hrs to make up for my absence :). (not proofread!). this is a result of listening to sesame syrup by cigarettes after sex on repeat.

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

your phone chimes with a text from satoru “are you free this week? i’m coming to your city”. to which you reply almost instantly. “yeah, i can make some time.”

he texts back: “no need to cancel any plans. i can work around it. just wanna spend some time with you while i’m here.” making your heart flip.

“i have an event to attend tonight, but can i come over sometime between 2 and 3?” he sends another text.

it’s not really like you had much going on in the week so you decided to say yes. to which he sends a winky face and a see you soon.

it’s almost 2am when you’re done getting ready. it has been a while since you’ve seen each other and while satoru has seen you in all your rawness. you figured it wouldn’t hurt to dress up a bit.

you decide to wear an ocean blue lingerie set (his favorite color) and a sheer white dress over it, leaving nothing to imagination. you hope you can catch him off guard with this look.

you look at the clock and it’s already 2:30am. you decide to send him a text to confirm he’s going to come up or not. it’s not like satoru to stand you up especially on a plan he’s made.

“are we still good for tonight?” you text. but no reply comes through. he did say 3am didn’t he, you think to yourself. maybe he’ll be there by then. you sigh and decide to put on a movie.

you give him the benefit of the doubt and wait a bit longer past 3. but you regret that decision as you are watching instagram stories and see a pic of none other than, satoru gojo in all his glory at the party he said he’d be. an angry pout takes over your lips.

what gets you isn’t the fact that he may still be at the party but who he is with. some model’s lips are pressed to his cheeks – hand hovering over her back and his stupid people winning grin plastered on his face.

posted 20 minutes ago. you inhale deeply, trying to keep the tears at bay. you didn’t even know why you were hurt. after all you were just fuck buddies and nothing more. you suppose it was the anger making you cry.

feeling stupid at even trying to dress him for him, streaks of black mascara run down your face. you look at yourself in the mirror and take a deep breath, willing yourself to not cry over some rich fucker.

you wipe your make up and change into a pair of sweatpants and lay back down on the couch. continuing your show trying to distract yourself from the indirect rejection you felt.

but your mind kept going back to him. why would he wanna be with you when he can get all those pretty girls with their perfect bodies. girls who could probably make him feel far better than you do.

you were stupid to think there was something going in between the two of you. as soon as that thought crosses your mind a text chimes. “baby, i’m so sorry. almost there. 5 minutes.”

you scoff at the nickname ‘baby’ huh. “don’t bother. i’m going to sleep.” but you don’t get a reply back. instead what you get is loud repetition of knocks on your apartment door followed by your name.

he waits a beat and then continues knocking. “not leaving until you open the door” he texts you. out of compassion for your neighbors, you open the door. his hand stops mid knock as you gesture him to get in.

"i'm really sorry, i swear i didn't mean to keep you waiting for so long." he starts rambling and you look at him with a plain stare and arms crossed to let him know you're not having his bullshit — you already know he has other priorities.

"i lost track of time and i left the party as soon as i realized. my phone was dead, so i couldn't even text you. i just charged it on the way here. darling, you know i'd never keep you waiting," he moves closer to grab your hands and you let him.

you gulp hard trying to not cry. he reaches to touch your face but you jerk your head away. "don't gojo." the change stings him and you see a look of hurt pass over his face. "please" he drags out the syllable. "okay," you tell him and he almost smiles but you reach out and wipe the lipstick mark off his cheek bringing it up to his eyes "what's this then?"

he narrows his eyes at your thumb in thought, "it's nothing, i swear. she kissed my cheek out of nowhere and they took the photo and i moved away from her just as fast." and you scoff in disbelief, "you just have an answer for everything, don't you gojo."

he groans “just give me a minute,” and pulls out his phone — going through his texts to show the photos of him taken throughout the night. out of habit you take in his appearance. he looks unbelievably sexy in an all black outfit, a sheer black tank and a black overcoat with matching suit pants. you're immediately reminded of your white dress that you had picked earlier and think how perfectly it’d match his outfit. a tear involuntarily escapes your eye.

you wipe it casually before he can notice. he pulls up the photo probably going around on social media at the moment and then the one of him moving away from the lady, "see!" he exclaims. and you sigh, "what do you want me to say gojo?"

"first off, don't call me gojo. secondly, forgive me. it was an honest mistake, you know i'd never do it on purpose. and lastly, i've missed you so so much baby," he drops his forehead to yours and you don't pull away. cause you've missed him just the same.

"go home," you whisper to him. "can't." he replies in the same manner. "it's too late and i didn't get my car. let me stay. let me make it up to you."

you pull away from him and turn towards your bedroom. he lets out a sigh of relief thinking maybe you were giving him a second chance but his shoulders deflate just as quick when you say, "you can take the guest room."

and so he does. he'd take any chance to be close to you since his job makes it hard for him to stay around you for long periods of time. so whenever he comes to this city, he'd prefers to stay with you rather than at a hotel.

and although your relationship and feelings for each other were hidden under the title of "fuck buddies" you both knew it was more than that. both of you went exclusive as soon as you started sleeping with each other. hell you don't think you could find anyone who would fuck you as good as satoru does. and he doesn't even want to try because the way your pussy makes him feel is other worldly.

he gets out of the shower and opts to wear just his boxers and lays comfortably at the thought of making it up to you in the morning. meanwhile you twist and turn trying to find a position to sleep, wondering if you should give in or keep it up so he knows what he did was wrong.

you wake up to the sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen and smile when you remember satoru stayed over last night. albeit not with you but still. your jaw drops slightly when you walk out and see him standing by the stove in nothing but his boxers. the early morning light accentuating the dips and curves of his muscles.

"satoru!" you shriek covering your eyes. "oh, good morning baby. why are you hiding your face?" he asks as if he isn't standing there with his dick in your face. "why are you naked?! put something on!" you exclaim. "ahh, nothing you haven't seen before princess. plus i’m not naked. I’m wearing boxers!” he grins and then adds on “can't exactly wear those clothes when i'm cookin breakfast. it's uncomfortable."

"ugh," you say out loud and march back into your room. you come out with a pair of his sweatpants and throw it to him from across the counter. "wear these!"

"whatever you want baby," he pulls them on and they rest sinfully on his hips – almost teasing you and your cheeks flush. “can you taste this for me?” he asks and you walk around the counter to stand next to him as he pushes a spoonful of syrup towards you.

your eyes flutter close and you hum at the sweet taste. “this is really good,” you smile softly. “thanks. it’s for the french toast. i just put it in the oven to keep it warm. thought you’d be asleep for a little longer.” you beam at the mention of french toast, they were your favorite. “nutella?” you ask and he nods with a mesmerizing smile “just the way you like it, sweets.”

you both gaze at each other with a soft smile. “can i have another spoon?” you meek. you accidentally let a little bit of it dribble down your chin. “oh shit,” you’re about to wipe it off but satoru holds your hand and pulls you in closer.

you feel his tongue leave a wet trail behind as he licks the dripping syrup from your chin to the corner of your mouth. your breath hitches at the sensation. he pulls back and looks at you with smirk.

before he can take too much pride in catching you off guard, you surprise him by clashing your lips to his. he bucks backward and steadies himself with a grip on your waist.

his heart picks up a beat at finally feeling your plush lips on his. tasting the remnants of syrup still sticking to your lips. your kiss felt transcendental to him. like the only way to stay alive was the air that passed through your mouth to his. and he rejoiced at that. he’d be willing to live with you as his source of oxygen.

gaining back some composure he pushes you back and places you on the counter. you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in further. his tongue tries to find its way into your mouth but you don’t budge. instead you giggle into the kiss and he takes it as an indication to kiss your teeth.

his lips move over your jaw, lightly nipping at the skin at the space under your ear. his tongue pokes out and traces your ear lobe once, twice and then he nibs down on the cartilage playfully with a whine of your name. the oven’s beeping brings you both out of the love lust trance you’re in.

he huffs and moves back to turn off the oven while you turn off the stove and grab another spoon of syrup. he turns back to see you leaning back on an arm and kicking your feet – dropping the sticky syrup over your clothed perked nipples. the lack of a bra evident. “oops” you pout, feigning innocence.

his breath seizes at the scene unfolding in front of him. he licks his lips once and then without wasting any more time, his mouth moves over your chest. licking the syrup off your shirt and in the process stimulating your nipples just like you hoped. he pulls off your shirt and throws it behind somewhere behind but before he can go further you stop him “wait!”.

“not in the kitchen,” you speak timidly – a flush creeping up your neck at his lustful stare. pressure builds in your stomach at the way he’s looking at you and you squeeze your thighs for a bit of friction.

“where?” he asks as he picks you up. “anywhere but the kitchen,” you whisper into the skin of his neck as you place a chaste kiss. and then he’s dropping down to his knees with you. laying you on the wooden floor of your living room

he leaves you on the floor for a beat and then comes back with the pot filled with syrup. he peels of your sweatpants along with your soaked panties. “lay still,” he tells you and you straighten out your legs and arms.

using you as his canvas he grabs the pot of syrup and tilts it over your body. creating a pattern of syrup on your naked body. he places the pot back on the counter and admires his work. a thoughtful grin on his face as he makes eye contact with you. “can i take a photo of you?” he asks and you nod without a second thought. he grabs your phone and snaps a pic. this image of yours would be imprinted in his mind forever and more.

“look at how beautiful you look,” and surely you do. sprawled out over the wooden floors of your apartment with a sticky substance covering your body. but that’s not all. the sun shines through the curtains, casting your body in an ethereal light and a ring of light on your head acting as a halo. “just like an angel. my angel. aren’t you baby?” he asks for confirmation.

and maybe it’s too early to say but you do anyway. “only yours, satoru. always yours,” you utter the words he’s been waiting for – well he feels like his whole life but in reality it’s only been three months since you two started this relationship.

the intensity of his gaze has a shiver run over your body and you can feel goosebumps erupt across your skin. he moves on top of you. taking his time with your body. licking over and over until he cleans the syrup. you almost feel like you’re not breathing as his mouth moves over your neck, collarbones, chest, stomach – lapping and littering your skin with love bites.

before moving further down he gives you a deep kiss and you can taste the sweetness of the syrup on his tongue as it tangles with yours. but it’s so incredibly satoru, to be tasting this sweet you can’t help but suck his tongue a little.

finally he spreads your thighs and makes himself at home. licking a quick stripe to test your wetness. there’s so much arousal it has him wondering if you already came. your nubs a shade darker, almost angry at being away from him for so long. he coos at your pussy as it was a separate being. “you missed me, didn’t you?” a peck to your clit. “i missed you too, but your mommy was tryna keep us apart.” you can’t help but laugh at the endearing silliness of him speaking to your pussy. faking a gasp he whispers “i know! it’s okay. going to take such good care of you now,” this time he looks at you.

his tongue moves over your bundle of nerves pressing down on your nub stimulating it just the right amount and plunging a finger into your cunt. his eyes flutter close at your taste. “nothing comes close to your sweetness, darling” he groans. your hands tangle in his head as he continues sucking your clit. you moan his name “ha ha ‘m so close toru.” so he speeds up his pace – licking ferociously, wanting you to reach your high quicker.

you come with a scream of his name. eyes shut and fingers tugging his hair but he has no complaints. he loved the sting when you tugged his hair like this – when you were too fucked out to even realize you were doing it.

he frees his cock and he feels like he can breath a bit better now. his hardened cock turns impossibly harder when you reach a hand down and pump it a few times and he watches in awe. pre cum lathering his length.

“you doing okay?” he asks you from above aligning himself but not pushing in. “yeah,” you hum but you’re lost in thought. about last night. but satoru notices everything. he squeezes your cheeks so you look at him. “what’s wrong?” genuinely concerned.

“i was hurt last night when you didn’t show up on time. and i didn’t understand why i was so hurt because it’s not like we’re dating or anything. but seeing that pic of you, out with those people hurt. cause i was here waiting for you, wanting to surprise you with a dress i bought, that i thought you’d like. but that doesn’t matter. what i’m trying to say is that this is more than just sex for me satoru. i really really like you. i want more of you. more of this. more of us.” you confess all that you’ve held in since this past few weeks of being apart from him.

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, reeling in your confession. you feel like you’ve ruined whatever you had going on. “satoru, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way” in fact it wasn’t. you’d be heartbroken if he didn’t feel the same way. “you don’t have to say anything. i just, i-“ you’re about to continue but he cuts you off with a hard kiss. “i do too. all that you said. i too, want more of you, more of this, more of us. it’s more than just sex for me too, baby. has been for a while. i’m really sorry about last night. wear that dress for me tonight, please.” he pleads. “i’ll cook you a nice dinner and we can have our first date as an official couple. what’d you say?” he smiles softly.

your heart clenches at overwhelming emotions and tears line your eyes as you repeat yes over and over again until he’s kissing you and drinking the love out of you.

he carries you over to your bedroom and lays beside you. he grabs your leg and places it over his hip, lining his cock with your cunt. slowly he pushes into you. you both moan in unison. him at the feeling of your snug walls and you at the feeling of his cock stretching you apart.

your foreheads touch as you maintain eye contact. he thrusts into you ever so lovingly. languid and hard thrusts. as if you both had all the time in the world.

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

a/n: idk how i feel abt this 💔😭 but i hope you liked it. comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!

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antimisinfo · 27 days

Text

Endos / endogenics and why they aren't valid :

We've made posts on this before but we decided it might be good to make one big post to link to for when / if anyone asks again. We tried to cover everything we could in this post but we'll likely be making other posts similar to this later on.

So what are endos? Endos or endogenics are people who claim to have DID/OSDD without trauma or claim to have alters / be a system without having DID/OSDD.

Why is this bad? This is misinformation because as far as science knows DID/OSDD is a trauma based disorder (specifically caused by trauma in early childhood, which is speculated to be 1-9 / 1-12 years old) and your brain would not split / create alters without reason. You cannot have alters without having a disorder, this is common sense as it's not normal to have alters. To add onto this endos also take over our communities and steal our terms. (We'll make a post with further information on that in the future).

There is also a carrd that explains why endos are bad and debunks a few myths if anyone is interested in it! If not continue reading

Why can't you have DID/OSDD or alters without trauma? As far as science knows DID/OSDD is a trauma disorder and in order to have alters in the first place you require dissociation, which is also a trauma ((or stress)) response. Here are tons of medically reviewed sources that say this:

“ They suggest that DID is caused by experiencing severe trauma over a long time in childhood. By experiencing trauma in childhood, you take on different identities and behaviours to protect yourself. As you grow up these behaviours become more fully formed until it looks like you have different identities ” — rethink.org

“ Dissociative identity disorder (DID), previously known as multiple personality disorder, is a complex psychological condition caused by many things. These include severe trauma during early childhood (usually extreme, repetitive physical, sexual, or emotional abuse). It's also known as split personality disorder. ” — webMD

“ DID is usually associated with adverse experiences in someone’s past and traumatic memories. ” & “ Dissociation — a major part of DID — is a defense mechanism the body uses to reduce your awareness during overwhelming trauma ” — pysch central

“ DID is associated with long-term exposure to trauma, often chronic traumatic experiences during early childhood. ” & “ Dissociation—or disconnection from one’s sense of self or environment—can be a response to trauma. It can happen during a single-incident, traumatic event (e.g., an assault, a natural disaster, or a motor vehicle accident), or during ongoing trauma (e.g., wartime; chronic childhood abuse). ” — mcleanhospital.org

“ Dissociative disorders often develop as a way to deal with a catastrophic event or with long-term stress, abuse or trauma. This is particularly true if such events take place early in childhood. At this time of life, there are limitations to your ability to fully understand what’s happening. In addition, your coping mechanisms aren’t fully developed and getting support and resources depends on the presence of caring and knowledgeable adults. ” — my.clevelandclinic.org

“ There are many possible causes of dissociative disorders, including previous traumatic experience. ” & “ Switching off from reality is a normal defence mechanism that helps the person cope during a traumatic time. ” — nhs.uk

“ Dissociative identity disorder is the result of a natural way of coping with childhood trauma. Our page on the causes of dissociative disorders has more information. ” & “ Dissociation is a natural response to trauma while it's happening. But some of us may still experience dissociation long after the traumatic event has finished. Past experiences of dissociation during traumatic events may mean that you haven't processed these experiences fully. ” — mind.org (two links since they're two different pages)

“ Dissociative disorders usually start as a way to cope with shocking, distressing or painful events. The disorders most often form in children who go through long-term physical, sexual or emotional abuse. Less often, the disorders form in children who've lived in a home where they went through frightening times or they never knew what to expect. The stress of war or natural disasters also can bring on dissociative disorders. When you go through an event that's too much to handle emotionally, you may feel like you're stepping outside of yourself and seeing the event as if it's happening to another person. Mentally escaping in this way may help you get through a shocking, distressing or painful time. ” — mayoclinic.org

Most of these sources are pretty recent too, with the most recent one being made in September 2023 (webMD)

What about religious beliefs / tuplamacy? First people are not required to believe or participate in your religious beliefs (and religious beliefs are not exempt from criticism) and second tuplamacy is a closed Buddhist practice that has nothing to do with being a system and should not be compared to being a system nor should it be included / involved in system communities. Note that the DSM-V also says that in order to have DID; "The disturbance is not a normal part of a broadly accepted cultural or religious practice." <- this does not mean it's possible to have alters due to a religious thing, if anything it says they cannot be counted as alters / as a system.

To add on, no you cannot pray to be a system or transition into being a system. If you were to pray and one day magically become a system you are either in denial or you've convinced yourself you're something you're not. Believing you can be a system without trauma or that you can become a system by praying is like believing you can get autism from vaccines or drinking too much dairy milk, that's just not how it works.

What about mixed origin systems? Mixed origin systems are not a thing. DID/OSDD forms purely from trauma, you can't form from a mix of trauma and not trauma, that's not how it works. If you identify as mixed origin you are likely in denial and really need to come to terms with the fact that you are either traumatized or you're not a system at all.

What about other kinds of origins? Other origins like "willowgenic" and all that bullshit? Yeah no, same thing as endos, not possible. Look above for all the proof you need, DID/OSDD is only caused by trauma. Traumagenic is the only valid origin.

But I gave myself DID! / But I created my own alters! No you didn't. That isn't possible, you cannot turn yourself into a DID/OSDD system and creating alters is a coping mechanism, not something you do for fun, sources on this;

“ DID Isn't Something You Can Give Yourself on Purpose. Having DID was not a conscious decision those of us with the disorder made when we were children. Dissociative identity disorder is not a selective disorder, meaning you cannot decide that you want to develop this brilliant coping mechanism and then you have it. ” — healthyplace

“ In any case, additional alters are usually the result of extreme stress. The mind does not like to be fractured even when an individual already has DID or OSDD-1. Many individuals cannot split unless a split is strictly necessary for their protection, functioning, or ability to remain hidden as a system. That said, there are exceptions. Some individuals may become so used to using splitting as a coping mechanism that they may split easily in response to seemingly minor stressors. ” — didresearch.org

Isn't being a system like the same as being trans or being LGBTQ? No, many endos compared the two but they are completely different. Being LGBTQ is an identity, it's something you are born as. Being a system is a debilitating disorder caused by severe trauma, it is counted as a disability which is;

“ 'A person has a disability if: They have a physical or mental impairment, and the impairment has a substantial and long-term adverse effect on the person's ability to carry out normal day-to-day activities.' ” — gmc.org

The reason DID would be counted as a disability is that;

“ Having a dissociative disorder can affect your ability to keep a full-time job, especially one with work stresses, which can worsen your symptoms. ” — disabilitysecrets

And the DSM-V criteria literally says;

“ The symptoms cause clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning ” — traumadissociation

But the DSM-V says that trauma isn't required! No, the DSM-V actually says CSA isn't required, there are other forms of trauma that don't involve CSA or child abuse. To act as if it saying that the trauma isn't always CSA or child abuse means that it doesn't require trauma at all is extremely invalidating to those who are traumatized in ways that don't involve child abuse or CSA.

But this source claims endos exist / DID doesn't require trauma! Most of those sources are extremely old and / or made by endos (or pro endos) themselves. (We'll make a more in-depth post on this topic some other time, but for now this is all we have to say on it)

But we don't know everything about the human brain! You're right, we don't. The brain is mysterious, but we do know enough to know that it doesn't do these kinds of things for no reason. We know the brain reacts to trauma and we know what the difference between a normal brain and a disordered brain is. Just because we don't know everything doesn't give people an excuse to jump to conclusions and spread misinformation. It is better to stick to what science currently knows which is the theory of structural dissociation, which is the current theory about how DID/OSDD forms, and so far no one has been able to disprove it. And before someone says it, no it is not only a theory, it is a scientific theory which is;

“ A theory is a well-substantiated explanation of an aspect of the natural world that can incorporate laws, hypotheses and facts. The theory of gravitation, for instance, explains why apples fall from trees and astronauts float in space. Similarly, the theory of evolution explains why so many plants and animals—some very similar and some very different—exist on Earth now and in the past, as revealed by the fossil record. ” — amnh.org

And to add on;

“ Scientists develop theories to explain the natural world and to advance scientific knowledge. A theory is the highest level of explanation in science. Some features of scientific theories are that they: have been thoroughly tested over an extended period, provide accurate explanations and, predictions for a wide range of phenomena, are widely accepted by the scientific community, demonstrate strong experimental and observational support ” — study.com

#endo misinfo #sourced #anti endo #endos dni #system #traumagenic system #did #did osdd #didosdd #osddid #system stuff #plural system #plural #did system #osdd system #this took a long time

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