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gojonanami · 7 months

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ALL'S FAIR (IN LOVE AND MERGERS) ✩ SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: you're not sure what's worse -- being an arranged marriage or being an arranged marriage with the person who used to be your best friend. ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, arranged marriage au, gojo and reader are both heirs to large companies, childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, lots of fluff + banter, gojo is down bad, geto makes an appearance, handjobs (f!+m! receiving), oral (f!+m! receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, dom! + sub!gojo, degradation (slut), breeding kink, gojo has a praise kink, semi public sex, office sex, tiny amount of sexting, under the desk oral (m!receiving), pet names (sweetheart, princess, baby), pregnancy mentions ✴︎ wc: 16,381 (why do i do this to myself?)

“Why do you look so down, Princess?” Your eyes flicker up from your book, forcing your expression to stay disinterested — the one emotion Satoru hated, “shouldn’t you share your feelings with your fiancé?”

“Don’t call yourself that,” you snap, and his lips curl at your reaction, “what are you so smug about? You’re stuck in the same position as me,”

“And what’s that?” You close your book, glaring daggers at his all too perfect face.

“Marrying your worst enemy.”

It wasn’t always like this.

Satoru Gojo used to be your friend — your best friend in fact. The fact your families’ companies were rivals often meant you ran in the same social circles more often than not. And it meant more than one boring adult party that the two of you were stuck with each other.

The two of you had become inseparable — attending the same prestigious schools with the most pretentious children, though the two of you were no exceptions. But you liked to think you were.

And you didn’t realize your feelings for Satoru, until someone else had.

“Do you want to hang out on Friday?” You ask, flipping through the channels as the two of you watched TV, looking for something other than the second half of movies and the reruns of shows you didn’t care for.

“I can’t, I’m going to the formal,” he replies, not looking up from his phone, and you pause.

“You’re going to that?” You raise an eyebrow, “we’ve never went,”

“Well I never had someone ask me who I wanted to go with,” his eyes flicker up from his phone, a smirk on his lips, “you jealous?”

Your reply leaves your lips like whiplash, “You wish,” you cross your arms, but you can’t help ask the question burning on your lips, “who are you going with?”

“Akari,” and you scoff, “what?”

“That girl goes out with a new guy every week,” you shake your head, “you’re better off staying at home with me,”

“So you are jealous,” he hums, leaning back on the couch, “if you wanted to go with me, all you had to do was ask, Princess,”

Your cheeks flush, which you make up for in indignancy and sharp words, “Don’t call me that,” the nickname your family affectionately had called you had become Satoru’s favorite thing to call you, “I’m just telling you to be careful — that girl isn’t someone you should trust with your feelings,”

“I think I’ll use my own judgment instead of someone who hasn’t even been on a single date before,” his tone is far too biting and his accuracy is far too sharp — and you can’t stop your face from dropping, and his lips part - regret flashing across his features, “princess—“

“Go home, Satoru,” you rise, brushing past him, “you know the way out,”

“Princess—“ he tries to reach for your hand, but you slap it away. His hand retracts like he’d been burned.

“Please, go,” you open the door for him, and he does, and little do you know that would be one of the last times you spoke.

The day of the formal arrives, the two of you hadn’t seen each other outside of class since that day. But Satoru did see you at the dance that night - on the arm of his former best friend, Suguru — the same one he had a falling out with a year ago. He doesn’t say a word to you, but you don’t miss the hurt in his eyes - but you wonder why it was there in the first place - and why he was acting like you put it there.

It all goes to hell after.

The Gojo Corporation poaches one of your family’s biggest clients in a shady backroom deal, breaking their truce and your family’s trust. Arguments and stress reach a peak over the phone and lines are drawn and metaphorical guns are drawn.

And you and Satoru are caught in the crossfire.

Not that you weren’t firing shots yourself.

It wasn’t until you pulled Satoru into a secluded classroom, and you shut the door behind the two of you. Even with the sunglasses perched on his nose as always, he flinches in the bright light of the sun setting behind you, dipping the classroom in a blazing orange — light sensitivity nearly required him to wear his sunglasses out, but he certainly made a statement in them — though what didn’t he make a statement in?

“What are we going to do about our families?” you chew your lip — you had listened this morning to your father rant about the Gojo family — unkind words to say about them all, even Satoru himself, who your father had treated as a second son — and now he was grilling you about what you had told him about the family business.

“What can we do?” His arms are crossed and his gaze is upwards, “they are going to do what they want,”

You stare at him, your heart cracks, blood rushing in your ears, “Satoru, if this gets worse, we won’t be able to be friends,” you refuse to let your voice break.

“So what? I know the way out, don’t I?” But your heart did break, “I’m sure Suguru could comfort you,”

Your eyes burn, but you can’t, you can’t let him see you cry, “Why are you so upset? You had a date—“

“And mine wasn’t the person who backstabbed me,” he bites back, “what my family did is done, and so are we,” and he doesn’t look back when he leaves.

And it was good — because he didn’t see you cry.

And now you sat with him in your living room, trying to process the fact you would be legally married soon enough.

“Worst enemy? I know you liked to embellish princess, but that seems excessive,” he snorts, “glad to know I haven’t escaped your thoughts these years,”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” and he grins his shit eating grin, and it’s almost as if no time has passed, except the person who sits before you isn’t a seventeen year old with an attitude of a shithead — it’s an adult man (albeit with the same attitude).

“Don’t need to - you already do that for me, baby,” he winks, and you don’t know whether you want to slap him or strangle him. Either way, you wanted him to shut up, “shouldn’t we at least try to make the best of this?”

“The best of what?” You scoff, ready for your veins to burst out of your head, if only to spare you the agony of this conversation, “Gojo, we were best friends a million years ago and then we weren’t and now we’re getting married - all on the whims of our families, so how do we make the best of it?”

He pauses a moment, almost thoughtfully, “I was your best friend?”

And you rise to your feet, “this is impossible,” you brush past him, but he catches you by your wrist, his thumb grazing your pulse.

“Princess, I’m sorry,” he says, and you stop, meeting his gaze reluctantly, his lips part, “that you were so annoying in high school—“

“Fuck you,” and you storm off as he cackles, but you don’t notice the small smile on his lips that stays as he watches you.

And nor do you hear him say, “God, I missed you.”

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter under your breath, as you place back the millionth dress you looked at, “we’re hardly celebrities but we have to make a public appearance?”

Your families wanted the marriage to be portrayed as a love marriage in the media - childhood friends falling in love after reconnecting - the thing of love stories. The thing that would circle the drain on social media on cute threads of meetcutes and what ifs. When in fact, you were being forced on a shopping date with an already well paid and positioned paparazzi ready to take pictures of this charade.

“You may not be, Princess, but I am quite the catch,” Satoru takes the attention in stride, not only of the paparazzi, but the passersby who gawked at the two of you. It was true, Satoru was nearly always listed as an eligible bachelor in far too many of these lists that existed, if not the eligible bachelor, and yet here you were, glued to his side like some taudry accessory.

“So does that mean if I just toss you away, someone else will catch you?” You grumble, and he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses.

“Like it or not, you caught me,” he flashes you those pearly whites, and you supposed he blinded you as you stumble forward, tripping. But you don’t kiss the pavement — but you almost wish you do. He catches you, his arm around your waist, the other on your shoulder, and his eyes graze over you in a flash of concern, and then amusement, “and I’m not going anywhere this time,”

And you flush, the clicks of cameras in the distance snapping you back to reality, as you right yourself with a fake smile plastered on your lips. You brush his shirt off as lovingly as you can, “And if I go?”

His lips only curl into his obnoxiously charming smile, as he gestures for you to walk on, “I’ll follow, Princess,”

Finally the trip is over, and Satoru is driving the both of you back, “I’m surprised you took a day off for this,” he remarks, “usually you work all week,”

“Well I wasn’t given much of a choice, now was I?” And then you glance at him, furrowing your brow, “how do you know how often I work?”

“What’s the phrase? Keep your enemies close, and your lovers closer?” He gives a wry grin as you scowl at him, “you’re not surprised I kept tabs on you, are you?”

“Well, no,” because you did the exact same. You pinned the blame on late nights and doom scrolling on social media — curiosity killed the cat.

“And now I know you kept tabs on me,” he looks far too satisfied with himself, “I’m flattered,”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off, “it’s not like you’re that interesting to begin with,”

“Sure,” he smirks, and then you glance outside, noticing you were getting further out from home rather than closer.

“Where are we going?” You sit up, glancing around — you didn’t recognize the area.

“Oh, you didn’t think our date was over yet, did you?” his lips curl, his eyes still on the road, “we are just going to a more private location,”

“If you take me to a hotel, I will slap you,” you murmur, and he laughs, a sound that makes your stomach flip.

“I didn’t know a princess’s mind could be in the gutter,” he remarks, his fingers flexing on the wheel, a small infinity tattoo on his ring finger, and your mind really then all but fled to the gutter as you thought what else he could use those fingers for.

“Oh my mind goes a lot of places,” this was growing more dangerous — for your tongue and for your heart.

And he notices your gaze flickering to his hands, and his lips curl, “I think I’d like to familiarize myself with the places your mind goes, Princess,” You flush, “but that’s for a different day.”

“Where are you taking me anyway?”

“We’re almost there, just enjoy the ride,” you eventually pull up to a park, and he leaves the car, opening the door for you, “after you, my lady,”

You slide out of the car, as he shuts the door behind you, and then pulls a basket out of the back, “Is there tape and rope in there?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know you were into that,” he winks, as you glare at him, “it’s a picnic basket - this is a nice spot to watch the sunset,”

“You watch sunsets?”

“Only with you,” you roll your eyes.

“Such a dork - are these the lines you use on all your dates? And don’t say only with me,” you add quickly, and he snorts.

“You catch on quick,” and he takes your hand, leading you along, “come on,”

His hand envelops yours, his fingers eventually intertwining with yours, his warmth flooding your body, but you can’t urge yourself to pull away.

A bottle of sparkling cider and a charcuterie board later, the two of you watch the sun begin its descent, blazing colors bleeding into one another.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, looking over your glass as you sip, “even when we used to hang out, I was the one to bring the snacks,”

“Well times change,” he replies, “plus you’re the one who always stopped me from buying snacks,”

“You always bought only sweets — it was always chocolate, sugar, and desserts,” you roll your eyes, “I see you got over that,”

“Nah, I just decided to buy things I know you like,” and your heart traitorously squeezes, but then he points, “look,” and your gaze falls onto the sunset and you gasp softly.

“It’s beautiful,” you sigh, and you don’t notice Satoru’s gaze on your face, a small smile on his lips.

“It is,” and you look back at him, his eyes shifting to you again.

“You never answered my question,” you say, “why are we doing this?”

“Why wouldn’t we? We’re getting married, Princess, did you forget?” He expertly dodges the question, swiftly leaping over a landmine, but you weren’t one to mince words or hesitate to do a direct assault.

“We’re getting married, it doesn’t mean we have to date,” you tilt your head, “Gojo, tell me—“

“Call me Satoru,” his words are so soft, hesitant even, as if his words could break apart any second if he had spoken them any quieter.

It’s a fragility he doesn’t often grace you with - that’s he’s maybe never given to you, and you don’t wish to break it.

But you’re also scared - scared that this will break yours.

“Satoru,” you whisper, and he smiles — the same smile he’d greet you with when you would meet up after school, the same smile when he’d beat you at whatever game you guys were playing, and the same smile you hadn’t seen in so long, “why are you doing all of this?”

“Is it not obvious?” He’s leaning closer and you only realize that you’re doing the same when your wrist hurts from leaning on your hand.

“Nothing is obvious when it comes to you, Satoru,” his lips warm yours with his breath, and the sun has set - there’s no other explanation for the warmth blooming on your skin other than him—

Ring. Ring. Ring.

His phone ringing sends both of you flinching apart, but his eyes don’t leave you for a lingering moment, before he picks up.

“Hello,” his voice is unwavering even after the moment you shared, you barely hear what he says over the blood thundering in your ears, “yes, we’ll be home shortly. Ok. Bye,”

He turns to look back at you, “My parents were wondering where we went,” and you nod, “we should get back,” and he begins to pack away the things,

“Satoru—“ you start, but he grabs your hands, tugging you forward.

“What?” he smiles, “not ready to part with me yet, princess?”

You scowl, pushing him away, brushing past him to the car, “Forget it,”

And he catches you by your wrist and pulls you back to him, your back against his front, “I don’t want to forget it,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I—”

And his phone rings again, and he sighs, showing you that it was your father this time, putting his phone on silent, “Our parents have impeccable timing,” and the moment is broken, as the two of you walk back to the car in relative silence, the sun long sunk below the horizon, and the moment along with it.

The wedding comes and goes without much ado — it was a private ceremony done with only your families and a few close family friends. And aside from a photo shoot that was to be “leaked” of the two of you looking far too lovey dovey that wound up circulating the media drain and ended up causing you and Satoru to keep a low profile for a week or two, not much of your life changed. The only thing being that you and Satoru slowly start to move in together, each moving your things into separate bedrooms, not that you’re around enough to even notice a shift as the work piled on due to the merger, only accumulates, and as do your late nights.

You come home again, back to your shared apartment, late at night, shutting the door softly behind you. You slip your shoes off, along with your jacket by the door, before setting your things down. You stretch your sore muscles, your stomach crying for mercy of the deprivation you had put it through today, and you allow it to lead you to the kitchen.

Satoru was surprisingly neat, aside from his own room that was a disaster zone not worth entering. The living spaces were always clean, as was the kitchen (though you had a sneaking suspicion he had hired a cleaning service to specifically tidy up when you were gone (due to the lingering lemony scent every surface had at times). You rummage through the refrigerator as quietly as you could, but not quietly enough as the lights flick on, and you feel akin to a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I feel like I’ve seen the mailman more than my own wife this week,” Satoru stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame of the door, a small grin on his lips, but a hint of something else in his eyes — concern? You don’t have the time to decipher the feeling, as your mind chooses to replay the phrase “my wife” on repeat.

“The merger has been killer to deal with — all the diligence requests has buried us,” you grumble, as you grab a box of cereal off the top of the refrigerator and the milk from the inside, and he’s holding a bowl and a spoon, “thanks,” as you reach for it, he holds it away from you.

“You know there’s something called delegating that you should try sometime, princess,” he says, tilting his head, “otherwise, you’re likely to run yourself into the ground,”

“It sounds like you care,” he puts down the bowl and spoon, grabbing the cereal and milk from you, and fixing a bowl for you, as you rub your eyes, sitting on the stool by the island.

His lips curl, “Who said I didn’t?”

You lay on the counter, staring up at him, “Didn’t know my husband could be anything but annoying,” and you enjoy the way his eyebrows shoot up, and it may have been your tired eyes, but you swore a small pink flush settled his way onto his cheeks, “cute,” you mumble, the word escaping you before you could stop it.

“What?” his eyes snap to yours, but he only finds them closed, the soft snores from your lips told him you weren’t pretending, as he stares at you, biting his lip, before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, “what are you doing to me, princess?” he murmurs.

And the next morning when you wake, you find yourself tucked into bed, as you roll over, to find your alarms had been turned off, and you were far too late to several meetings you had that morning.

You jolt up, before you find a note stuck to your shirt, you pause in your panic, to peel it off and read it:

Canceled your meetings for today and had your staff handle the ones they could deal with. You’re taking a break. You need it. - Satoru.

You wanted to protest, but even as you willed yourself to try and check your email, your body was screaming in agreement with Satoru, and you sighed, lying back down in bed, as you drifted into a dreamless sleep, with the note still in your hand.

~~~~~

“Gojo, get back in bed,” you cross your arms in front of his doorway, “you’re sick,”

“I’m fine,” he pouts, his normally pale skin flushed with a red tinge that gave away his fever, his eyes bloodshot from a restless night, and yet he still looked as perfect as ever, if not a bit rumpled from his askew hair and ruffled clothes, “I have to—”

“Rest,” you say, gently pushing him backwards towards his bed, “you need rest. You made me rest, and now it’s your turn,”

“But—”

“Satoru,” and the use of his name stops him in his tracks, as his knees buckle as his legs hit the end of his bed, “please?”

His resistance crumbles, “Princess, I’m fine—” and you press your forehead to his, making his breath catch, your face far too close far too fast.

“You’re burning up,” you ease him back into bed, as you roll your sleeves up, “will you be okay? I’m going to run out and get some supplies - have you taken any medicine?”

He shakes his head, “You can send out someone,” he says, reaching for his phone, but you grab it, “Princess-“

“I’m texting everyone that you’re sick and that you can’t make it in for the next two days while you recover,” you pocket his phone, putting it on silent, “consider this payback,” and you’re pulling on your jacket, “and I’m going to get you some things. I don’t need to send someone out. Do you want anything? I can’t get anything sweet because it will make your cough worse, but is there anything that you want?”

He shakes his head, as you snap your fingers and head out of the room, before returning with cold medicine, “I’ll give you this for now, and then I’ll grab some more while I’m out,”

You pour the medicine into the cup, and he sits up as best he could, reaching for the medicine cup, but you cup his chin, feeding it to him. He feels like his body is burning hotter from your touch than it is the fever, “I have to make sure you drink all of it, you can’t leave half of it in the cup like you did when we were kids,”

“You remember that?” he mumbles, as you help him lie down again, your hands gentle as you help lean back, and you tilt your head.

“I remember every ridiculous thing you did,” you snort, as you check to make sure you got everything — phone, wallet, keys — “just rest here, and call me if you need anything, ok?” his eyes are already starting to droop, heavy with sleep, and he gives a small nod.

And he catches you by your wrist, “Do you have to go?” he mumbles, pulling your hand close to his face, “I don’t want you to go,” his words slur, and he’s asleep in a moment, his hand still clutching yours to his face, lips brushing against your palm.

Heat flares up your cheeks, as you stand, motionless, his soft snores filling the room, as you manage to tug your hand away, and you stand over him, his mouth in an adorable pout, as sweat glistened on his forehead, white locks sticking to the damp skin. You leave for a moment to grab a cold compress for his forehead, and you come back, brushing his hair back to place the compress on. He shivers ever so slightly, but you just rub his head slowly, and he drifts back into sleep.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, and you wonder, how often has Satoru been cared for by maids or employees rather than his family? How often had they passed the buck of caring for their son to others as if it was more of a chore than a privilege to take care of someone they loved.

You leave his phone on video call with yours so you can keep an eye on him as he sleeps, even if you were going down the street, you didn’t want to leave him alone completely. Instead of music, you listened to the cacophony of his soft snores and shifting of his sheets. You grabbed the things you needed - medicine, supply for meals, vitamin water, vitamin c supplements, and anything else you could think of.

You return, door shutting softly behind you as you hang up the call, and set everything down on the counter. You poke your head into Satoru’s room to find him still fast asleep, and you remove the cold compress, going to replace it with a new one, but his hand catches yours as it brushes your forehead, and he mumbles your name.

And you flush — were you sure you weren’t getting sick at this point?

You sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “You’re as touchy as you were when we were kids,” and he was — there wasn’t a moment that Satoru wasn’t all over you before the ages of puberty — holding hands, hugging, even laying on top of you — but it was innocent. But even as you got older, it was poking, it was a leg over yours, it was grabbing your wrist instead of your hand.

And now, your hand was dwarfed by his, consuming your wrist and hand with his own, and it was so warm — though exacerbated by his fever. And you couldn’t help but want to lace your fingers through his. But — you pulled your hand away and replace his cold compress — you couldn’t afford thoughts like that.

Not now.

You cooked soup for him, filled with vegetables and nutrients that he clearly did not get enough of, made freshly squeezed orange juice, and put the supplements you wanted him to take on the tray you had found in the kitchen.

You washed your hands, as you start to clean up, your back to his room, and you hear Satoru say your name.

You turn and see him in the doorway, “What are you doing?”

“I should be asking you that,” he murmurs, rubbing his eyes, “what’s all this?”

“Lunch,” you walk over, waving him back into bed, “you need to rest,”

“Did you make me lunch?” he asks slowly, and you help him back into bed, as he frowns, “you didn’t have—”

“You’re my husband, Satoru,” you say, tilting your head, “I’m going to take care of you and not let you work yourself to the bone while you have a cold,”

And his lips curl at the words slowly, “Your husband,” he repeats, as if the words were foreign to him, and your cheeks flush as your words that were embarrassing enough to say linger in the air, “thank you,” he mumbles, as you nod, trying to calm your utterly burning cheeks before entering with the tray.

Satoru sits in bed still, more coherent than a few minutes before, a small smile on his lips as you enter his view, and you place the tray carefully on his bed, “Will you feed me?” And your eyes flit up to his innocent baby blues full of skies that you couldn’t say no to — and he knew that, “please?”

And now you’re feeding him, your lips carefully blowing on the hot soup as you spoon fed him, and he takes each one, “is it good?”

He nods, “It is, I didn’t know you could cook. The last thing I remember you making me was a microwave brownie that you burned,” and you rolled your eyes.

“That was because you told me to microwave it for too long,” you pout, and he laughs, sending him into a coughing fit, “karma,” and he scowls at you, before his lips split into a grin, “what?”

“Must have been pretty good in my past life,” he says, as you blow on another spoonful, “to end up with a pretty little wife like you, Princess,”

And you nearly drop the spoon, a few droplets slipping from the utensil, as he makes you flustered for the eighteenth time today — “Satoru,” you chide, and you’re not even sure what you are chiding him for — his word on a loop in your mind, “i think you’re high on cold medicine, or your fever,”

You don’t think he had ever called you pretty before.

And he leans forward pressing his forehead to yours, “I have no fever right now,” he whispers, his eyes glancing at the tray, “and I haven’t taken my cold medicine yet,”

Your words catch in your throat, and you’re swallowing thickly, as your eyes drift to his lips and back again, “Toru,” and you can’t lean away from him, he’s pulling you in, like he always did.

But then he pulls back, his cheeks flushed, “I think I should lie down,” and you blink, as you nod hastily.

“Of course,” you grab the tray and flee, leaving his medicine and water on the bedside table, heart thumping against your ribs and blood rushing to your cheeks.

And you don’t hear him grumble, “If only I wasn’t sick.”

After Satoru gets better, you barely see him. It feels empty in the house without his presence. You had grown accustomed to his loud, obtrusive presence, the clothes half thrown in the laundry basket, his snacks stacked up in the pantry and sometimes on the counters, and his cologne wafting through the halls. It seems all of that has faded with time, as he does his best to spend his time at work, and away from you.

After the billionth time of this, you get a phone call from his colleague, Nanami, asking for you to come and fetch him. You furrow your brow as he texts you the address of a bar near his work, and you arrive to find him passed out at a table, drink glasses and small plates littered the tabletop, his pale skin flushed, as he snored slightly as he slept.

His colleague too was flushed, but still sat with drink in hand looking utterly irritated and bemused, “How much did he drink?”

“Maybe two drinks?” and you raise an eyebrow, “he’s a lightweight, but he likes to pretend he isn’t,” he snorts, shaking his head, “did you two have a fight?”

You tilt your head, as you check on him, fingers brushing over his skin — he was so warm from the alcohol, “No, why do you ask?”

And Satoru is mumbling your name, again and again, pouting, “Is that you, my wife?” you flush, and that was your cue to get him out of there. Nanami helps you get him to his work car, luckily that came equipped with a driver, and you slide in beside him, as he dozes, his head drifting to your shoulder. His breath is warm against your neck, as he nestles into the soft skin of your nape, and you can feel his lips move, only catching your name between soft sighs and snores.

“Satoru,” you mutter, brushing his hair from his eyes, “what did you do?”

The driver helps you get him inside, and you’re left with him, his body leaning against yours on the couch, as you rouse him, “Satoru, wake up,” your hands cup his cheeks, and his eyes flutter open blearily.

You can still smell the scent of alcohol on his breath — and you know it’s sweet from the scent that drifts from him. Sometimes you wonder if he would taste sweet with how much sugar he consumes, but you brush that thought to the back of your head, as he finally speaks.

“Are you a dream?” he murmurs, and you have to suppress your laugh at his puppy dog stare.

“Don’t think so, Satoru,” you pinch his cheek lightly, “see? I’m real,”

He smiles, so gentle that it almost takes you aback, “Too real,” his hand slides over yours, flattening it against his cheek, “your hand is so soft, just like when we were kids, and we’d always hold hands anywhere we went,”

You swallow thickly, wondering if your cheeks were hotter than his were from the alcohol, “Well my family hasn’t sold me into manual labor yet, so they’ll stay that way,” and his eyes widen almost comically.

“I wouldn’t let them do that,” he says, almost every other word slurred, “can’t do that to my wife,” and your traitorous heart squeezes, despite itself, despite everything telling you that it didn’t mean anything — that he was drunk — and the million other reasons to brush it away, your heart does what it does best — takes it to heart, “I missed you so much,”

And he’s burying his face in your shoulder, warm breath against your skin making you shiver as you hold him gently, “then why have you been avoiding me?” He’s mumbling into your shoulder now, as you can’t help but laugh, “Stop, you’re tickling me.”

And his stare lifts and settles upon you, stopping your breath in its tracks, “I didn’t want to avoid you, I just was…” he mumbles something incoherent, “I couldn’t face you,”

“Why?” and it’s objectively cute the way he pouts, his face scrunching up like a child, his brow adorably furrowed, as he mutters under his breath slurred words you can’t make out, “let’s get you to bed — if you promise not to avoid me anymore,” you hold up a finger to his face.

He nods, lips still in the same pout, “promise,” he murmurs, as you help him into bed, but as you do, he grabs you, tugging you into bed with him with a yelp, his arms trapped you against him, as his face snuggles into your back, “stay,”

Your skin burns at his touch, his face buried into your back, his arms wrapped impossibly around you, “Satoru—”

“Please?” and the resistance you have crumbles, as you sigh, relaxing as best you could into his touch, “thank you, Princess,” he mumbles something else you can’t make out, before falling asleep.

And you bite your lip, ignoring how your skin feels under his touch — how were you ever going to sleep now?

But you do.

Satoru wakes with a slightly pounding head, a small groan caught in the back of his throat, as he stirs at the bright sunlight streaming in, his eyes fluttering awake to find you. His breath catches, as he stares at you. Your mouth slightly ajar, you softly snore as you sleep, your head resting against his arm, and he swallows thickly, as memories of last night trickle in.

And he nearly groans. He had avoided you to stop himself, to hold himself back from embarrassing himself, and he had gone and pulled you into bed with him after getting drunk. How pathetic was it that it only took you referring to him as your husband for all his walls to come crumbling down? Not that those walls ever stood a chance against you — it was easy for him to pull away from everyone, as if he had a barrier around him, stopping anything from coming near. But you — you were one thing that could penetrate his infinity — and the one thing he wanted to be infinite, if only for him.

His cheeks burn at his revelations and he can only be thankful you’re still asleep as he stares at you — god, he had almost let it slip twice last night. He had mumbled it twice, but from what he remembered, you hadn’t made out the words.

His cheeks burned, god he had said the words twice, and you didn’t even hear him, but the words had left his lips. And how many years had he been waiting to say them?

His fingers caress your cheek, making sure you were still asleep before he said them for a third time, “I love you.”

“How many social events must be inflicted upon us?” you mutter, pressed next to Satoru at the bar, as Satoru sips a soda instead of the alcohol they offered — if only to avoid the disaster that was the last time. But still, the lack of alcohol only makes your touch worse without its dulling effects, “and why did we need to go to this?”

“C’mon sweetheart, it’s not so bad,” Satoru smiles, his eyes skimming over your new suit that you had donned for the occasion, “I like seeing you all dressed up,”

“Well I rather be dressed down at home,” and he raises an eyebrow and you flush, “i mean in a t-shirt and shorts, you absolute perv,”

“Whatever you say, princess,” and you’re too busy elbowing him to notice who's walking over, until you hear your name.

You spot Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pursed, as you spot Suguru holding a hand up in greeting, patented grin on his lips, “Yo!”

“Suguru, it’s good to see you,” you greet, as he sweeps you up in a hug, and you shoot a look at Satoru, nudging him to be polite at the very least.

“Satoru, long time no see,” Suguru says, and Satoru plasters a fake smile on his lips.

“It has been,” and the three of you make pleasant small talk about your work — Suguru’s family was in a business adjacent to the work your families did.

“I heard about the merger your companies are doing, how have preparations been?” you open your mouth to answer, but Satoru gets to it first, his arm curling around your waist.

“It’s been going well, our marriage was the first step after all, wasn’t it, baby?” and you flush as Satoru does, doing your best not to glare at him.

“It was,” you smile, as Suguru raises his eyebrows.

“I hadn’t heard you both had married — congratulations,”

And then you’re beckoned by your family, and you slip away for a moment, going to speak to them about one thing or another, leaving Satoru and Suguru alone.

“It’s too bad we lost touch all these years,” Satoru sips at his drink.

“You don’t have to say that, Satoru,” Suguru replies, his grin melting away, “I know part of the reason was the business with our families companies, but I also know that it was personal,” and Satoru follows his eyes to you, as you laugh at something your mother said, “how has married life been treating you both?”

And Satoru glares, his grip tight around his glass, “Is your interest personal?”

“It’s not, but I see that you still haven’t been honest with each other,” he smiles over the lip of his drink, “was this marriage arranged by your families?” and Satoru’s silence was enough to confirm it, “well you should be careful, a marriage is a fragile thing, especially without love,”

“Is that a threat?” and Suguru’s dark irises meet his, full of mirth.

“No, just an observation, Satoru,” and you make your re-appearance, looking between the pair, sensing the tension, as your hand curls around Satoru’s, “It was lovely seeing you both. I hope to see more of you.”

And with that he’s gone, “What was that about?” you ask slowly, and Satoru can’t meet your gaze, only sipping his soda, “Satoru?”

“It’s nothing, princess, don’t worry about it,” and you tilt your head, your brow furrowed.

“That’s it,” you sigh, as you glance between the two of them, Suguru’s gaze still lingering on the two of you, “I know what this is about,” you declare, stepping ever closer to Satoru, your fingers brushing at his shoulder, sending his heart into a gallop.

“Princess—” your hand is sliding up his neck, brushing at his undercut, and your lips curl.

“I didn’t know you had an undercut,” and he can’t form words to respond to you, as you tug him closer, your lips were so close now, “it’s kind of hot,” and his mouth is so dry, his eyes can’t help but flicker down to your lips again, as you lean forward, pulling his head closer, closer, closer—

And you kiss him, it's barely a brush at first, but then you pull him in again, and he can taste the wine on your lips now, as your lips meet, his eyes fluttering shut as his hand slides to cup your face, the other around your waist. And finally you part, small pants leaving your lips, as your fingers toy with the hair resting on the back of his neck, smiling at him, as if you had done this a million times before.

And he wanted to do it a million times more. His fingers trace the length of your jaw, delighting in the shiver you give as he touches you, and wondering what other noises he could pull from you.

“Is he still watching?” you whisper, as you smooth over his collar, and he blinks, his eyes following yours to Suguru, who glances at the two of you before looking away, “think we convinced him?”

And his heart sinks just as high as it had soared, “what?” he murmurs, confused.

“He suspected us, right?” you continue with the phony smile on your lips, the heated lust in your gaze, and your soft touches — and it was all enough to break him.

But he doesn’t. He’s Satoru Gojo — he can’t be allowed to break.

So he gives a smile instead, “Yeah, I think we convinced him.”

He can’t help be quiet on the drive home, and he senses your unease, fidgeting in the seat beside him, your attempts to fill the silence falling on deaf ears, and you eventually stop trying, settling to look out of the window instead, until the two of you pull inside your driveway.

You both head inside, and the door shuts behind you, and he watches you struggle to take off your heels, the buckle not cooperating, as you lift your leg to undo it.

But then he’s kneeling before you, undoing your heels for you, as you stammer, “No, Gojo, you don’t have to—”

But his touch is gentle as he helps you out of your heels, one by one, his fingers brushing against your ankles, and then he rises, and for a split second, you forgot how tall he really was.

“No, I want to, because you’re my wife,” and his fingers brush against your jaw. “And I want your thoughts to be of me when I touch you, and not of someone else,” and he tilts your chin up, thumb dragging against your lips before he kisses you.

It was gentle but insistent — and far, far too fleeting, as he pulls away, “and I’ve told you before — I’m your husband, call me Satoru.”

And with that he’s gone, leaving you speechless and alone in your entryway.

You can’t sleep. For several nights.

You replay the moment over and over, the kiss, his words, and all of it.

What the fuck. Were you really up all night because of Satoru Gojo? You lay on your stomach, kicking your feet in frustration as you bury your hot face in your pillow. Your husband was going to be the death of you.

And especially with tomorrow.

Satoru’s family was hosting an event to announce the merger, and you stood in your bathroom, getting ready. You had opted for a baby blue dress that Satoru had picked for you when he had insisted on taking you shopping. He had winked and said you could wear his gaze this way. And you had only rolled your eyes at the time, but now it felt you could feel his eyes upon you.

“You look beautiful,” and you whirl around to find him standing in your doorway, a small smile on your lips, and you flush. It doesn’t go unnoticed, “is that all it takes to embarrass you now, Princess? I used to have to work a lot harder,”

You glare at him, “Shut up,” and your eyes flick to his untied tie, and it’s unspoken, as you walk over to tie his tie for him, “how did you even tie this the day of the formal if you don’t know how to?”

“I didn’t wear one,” he shrugs, his attention making you mess up the knot twice, “I only went to make you jealous anyway,”

Your fingers pause, as your eyes meet, “What?”

“I don’t want to play games anymore, Princess,” the back of his fingers brush against your cheek, “or at least, if I’m going to play, I’m going to play to win,” and you continue tying his tie, if only to distract yourself from your stomach doing flips, “do you know how it feels to want someone for so long only to end up married, but it’s not either of your choice?” And you swallow, not daring to look at him, “because I do.”

“Satoru,” your hands are shaking now, “I-“

“I don’t expect an answer, I don’t expect anything to change,” he adjusts his tie as you finish, turning his collar down, his blue button up matching your dress perfectly, “but I wanted you to know where I stood, and know wherever you are,” his gaze rakes over your form, the same color as the dress than clung to your skin, “I’ll always be here for you,”

“Satoru—“ but he gets a call — as always with impeccable timing, his parents were asking when they would be arriving. He hangs up shortly after, offering his arm with a smile.

“Shall we?” And you take his arm, ignoring the flip your heart does when his arm curls around yours.

The drive over is uneventful, but not the same can be said for the event itself. The merger event was being held at Satoru’s childhood home — the home Satoru had grown up in and around — and never wanted to be at.

“Are you okay?” you ask, your arm still curled around Satoru’s arm, as you glance at him, his shoulders tense and lips tight, before your concern makes the tension melt away a moment, rolling off his shoulders like snow on a spring day.

“I’m fine,” and you’re unconvinced, “just this place is like time has stood still,” he chuckles, his eyes finding the place where the two of you had cracked the chandelier fucking around with a ball inside, “look, still there,”

You snort, “I’m surprised your mother never noticed,”

“She did, she gave me hell for it,” he sips his drink, “I just didn’t tell you,”

“Why?”

“There was a lot I didn’t tell you,” his eyes snap to yours, his pain almost too visceral as he glances around the room he had grown up in — and you could feel him in this room, the ghost of his past roaming the halls, “why do you think I spent so much time at your house?”

“Because of my incredible company?” you half-joke, lips forced into a small smile, but he laughs, rolling his eyes.

“That too,” he hums, his fingers tracing up and down against your wrist sending a wave of heat down your spine.

“Well, you always have an escape now, don’t you?” you intertwine your fingers, “our home is always graced with the presence of your wife,”

He grins, the first actual smile you had seen all evening, “How lucky for you that it’s also graced with the presence of your incredibly handsome husband,”

And you open your mouth to respond, before Satoru’s father interrupts, his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, making him stiffen, “Son,” and his icy blue eyes slide to you, “and my daughter, would you mind if I steal my son for a moment?” it always struck you how different his eyes were from Satoru — the coldness as opposed to the warmth.

You glance at Satoru, and he gives a slight nod, “No, of course not,” you step away, as he pulls Satoru into a side room, and you linger nearby for him, mingling as best you can, when Satoru emerges, eyes downcast and fists clenched, “Satoru-“

“I’m okay,” he plasters on an easy smile, “it’s fine—“

“We’re leaving,” you grab his hand, “let’s go,” and he’s staring at you, as you drag him from the party, wordless.

“But your parents, my parents—”

“Have done enough for us already,” you say, and the two of you walk to the car in silence, “I can drive—”

“It’s ok, I got it,” and you both shut the doors, as he begins to drive. The ride home is quiet, and you glance at him here and there, but you hold your tongue, “you’re not going to ask?”

“It’s your dad - do I need to ask?” You scoff, “It may has been years but I know he’s nothing but a bully — especially to you,”

You may have been young, but you remembered the phone calls Satoru would get, the lectures about his potential and responsibilities as the next heir, the scoldings he’d get for anything less than perfect. And you remembered the look he had the next day — the same one he had when he had come out of that room.

And you couldn’t protect him then, but you could do it now.

He sighs as he pulls the car into the driveway, “You don’t deserve that, Toru,”

“Then what do I deserve?” And he meets your gaze with glassy eyes, and you give a small smile, your fingers reaching for him, brushing along his jaw.

“Love,” and you lean across the gap of the console, across the line you had drawn, across the misunderstandings you had, and you chose him. Your fingers cup his cheek, drawing him close, as you hear his breathe hitch, “can I—”

“You don’t need to ask me even once, Princess,” and you kiss him, your lips grazing his again and again, until your lips finally slide against each other, deepening it as he presses himself against you, hand bearing against the armrest between the two of you. And you can taste the sweet taste of the strawberry dessert that he all but inhaled at the party, the hint of the soda he drank instead of wine, and something that tasted utterly and perfectly of him.

“Toru,” you murmur, but his lips keep finding yours, and you can’t breathe much less think, “I—”

He silences you with another kiss, his fingers finding purchase on the back of your neck as he tugs you impossibly closer, before his lips are tracing a path down your jaw.

“What was that, sweetheart?” he smiles against your skin, “you what?”

“You’re insufferable, you’re endlessly frustrating, and I swear I want to murder you at least twice a day,” and he smiles, as you gasp as his teeth graze your pulse, “but you’re also my best friend, and I—“ you make him meet your eyes, fingers cupping his chin, ocean blue eyes drowning you with their gaze, “I love you,”

And he blinks ever so slowly, before his lips curl into the most beautiful smile you had seen, before he’s kissing you again, as you gasp, “Toru—”

“I’m never going to stop now, Princess,” he grins endlessly, as he presses his forehead to yours, dragging a thumb down your kiss ruined lips, “waited too long for you, but I’d wait a million years to do that again,”

“So should I make you wait?” you tease, and he’s looking like a kicked puppy, pouting and wide eyed, before he’s pressing butterfly kisses to your face, and you’re laughing, “I’m just kidding, baby—”

And he pauses, “‘Baby?’” and his grin is a million watt, as he kisses you again, “never thought I’d see the day you’d call me a pet name,”

Your noses brush as you both laugh, “Well, you are a big baby,” and he pouts again, and you kiss them, “but you’re my baby,”

And you barely remember how you manage to stumble into your home. Frantic touches and hurried kisses and fumbling keys. As soon as the door slams shut, he has you pressed against it, fingers busy with undoing your buttons, as he grins against your mouth.

“Know how long I wanted you? How long I dreamt of this?” he bites your bottom lip, “had to call you my wife before i could call you mine — thought about you dating Suguru, about all the times I wanted to lean over during our movie nights as kids and just kiss you — and how much I regretted it,”

“So you admit you’ve been pining for me,” you gasp as his teeth drag against your neck now, biting and sucking, as your fingers thread through his white locks, “Satoru,” you moan, biting your lip.

“Judging by that moan, I’m not the only one,” he smiles cheekily, his hands sliding down your back to rest at the back of your thighs, large palms and thick fingers pressing through the all too thin tulle of your dress, “can’t wait to see how fuckin’ wet you are for me, Princess.”

You gasp at his vulgar words, a rush of heat that leaves your legs shaking under his touch, “Now whose mind is the gutter?” You tease, your fingers tugging at his tie, unfurling the knot.

“Always has been when it’s come to you, want to make this perfect princess filthy,” he coos, and he’s pulling you up against the door, your hands wrapped around his neck, “wanna make my beautiful little wife scream my name, don’t I?”

“Toru—“ you gasp as his teeth graze along your chest, tugging the neckline of your dress impossibly low, “you’re going to rip it—“ and he does, pulling the fabric apart with ease, “what the fu—“ and he’s swallowing your swears with his tongue.

“I’ll buy you another,” he grins, “in fact I’ll buy you any amount you want, as long as you keep letting me do this,”

And he’s peeling the dress off of you, dress falling to the floor in a shamble of tulle, and your skin flushes at the air hitting your bare skin, and shivers at the feeling of his sharp breath against your neck.

“How are you so fucking perfect?” he sighs, burying his face in the nape of your neck, pressing butterfly kisses down your collarbone, “I should get an award for patience — not being able to touch you, to kiss you, but living with you?”

His fingers are skimming down your underwear now, snapping the waistband against your skin, you gasp, “Fuck, Toru,” you whimper, “thought you’d talk less during this,” your fingers are undoing his shirt now.

“Oh I can think of a few things that could shut me up,” his lips curl deviously, and you’re slipping his shirt off his shoulders, your lips pressing to his collarbone.

“I don’t think you’d even shut up from that,” as he shivers when your teeth graze his soft skin, “I think you’ll only whine more,”

And his gaze is hot as his eyes meet yours again, as he grasps at your thighs and picks you up, “let’s see who’s the one whining at the end of this,” you squeal, grasping into his shoulders, as he carries you into his bedroom, as he settles you down on his bed. His eyes raking over you, panting and disheveled, he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, “can’t believe you’re all mine, Princess,”

“Satoru,” you’re reaching for him, but he pins your hand to the bed, “wha—“

“Patience, baby,” he purrs, as he presses his lips to your wrist, “let me enjoy you,”

He’s so pretty it’s unfair - the way his breath hits your skin steals yours, pretty pink lips parted as he runs his tongue over them, the same ache between your legs longing for that tongue between them. But it leaves you with so little of the patience he asks you to have — especially after over a decade of this in the making.

And your impatience is evident, you suppose, by the pout on your lips, and he laughs, “Want a kiss, baby?”

You don’t have the time to say you want much more than a kiss, as he humors you with a kiss, lips teasing you with their sweet taste, and you don’t fail to notice his smile as you lean up into his touch. And suddenly his hands brush down your bare sides, squeezing your hips, and you’re gasping, “Feel good, Princess? We’ve barely started—“

“You keep teasing me and I’ll make you regret it,” you grumble, between breathless kisses, the bite of your words dampened by the soft pants that leave your lips, “Toru, I swear—“

And his thumb presses against the wet patch on your underwear, flimsy layer of soaked fabric barely doing a thing to hide your arousal, “Not acting like a good little girl for me,” he tuts, as you keen against his touch, gasping as you throw your head back as he grinds his fingers against your puffy clit, “all it took was one touch to have you so pliant, huh? Should’ve done this a long time ago,”

“Stop,” you whine, and his grin only grows larger with such self satisfaction, you don’t know if your lust addled brain wants you to strangle his neck or his cock, “please, just—“

“Just what?” And his fingers are breaching past your underwear, just barely touching the outer lips of your cunt, “come on, Princess, use your big girl words, or are you already fucked stupid before I’ve barely touched you?”

“Motherfuck—“

“I will be one once I get my needy little wife pregnant, won’t I?” And his long fingers finally tug down your underwear — the wet schlick of the sticky fabric hitting the floor make him drag his teeth over those beautiful lips, “but we got plenty of time for that, after all,” his fingers tease the outer lips of your throbbing pussy, “practice makes perfect,”

And he sinks a long finger knuckle deep — and a whine crawls its way out of your throat, his fingers were thicker than yours were — and so much better. His thumb teases your clit in tight circles as he begins to tease your walls, reaching deep, deep, deeper, your slick starting to drip onto his palm, “God, you’re soaking me, Princess,” and your hips can’t resist the urge to grind against his touch, “oh, and where’s that mouth now?” you can barely see much less talk, words failing as he begins to stretch you out - his other large palm rested against your thigh, keeping your legs nice and spread for him.

He’s grinning, he sinks another finger into you, teasing your walls apart, beginning to finger fuck you in earnest, “my mouthy girl just needed to be fucked right? Didn’t she?” And all you can hear are the filthy sounds of your cunt, as his fingers piston in and out, “nothing to say, Princess?” And he spanks your pussy, making you yelp, a whine leaving your throat, “and you thought I’d be whiny, look at you now, baby,” his fingers cup your chin to force your glassy eyes to meet his darkened blues, “such a good fucked out wife for me,”

And a third finger joining right as he brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars as his thumb bullied your clit, eyes rolling back as he did, and he’s grinning, “my perfect princess and her perfect little pussy,”

You came with his name on your lips, panting and shaking as he held you steady, his fingers dripping with your release, as he pulled away, watching your cunt twitch around nothing, aching for his fingers.

You're coming down from your high, chest rising and falling, as you watch him gather your release on his fingers, toying with your cunt, before he sucks them clean, “Fuck,” you whimper, as he licks and cleans himself of your cum, “Toru-“

“Fuck, baby, how’ve I resisted tasting you for so long?” And he’s bending down as he noses your thighs, making your hips jolt, still sensitive from your orgasm as he deeply inhaled, tip of his tongue darting out to lick your release from your thighs, “smell as sweet as you taste,” he hums, your legs trying to close, but his palms keep them spread, “can’t keep a man from his vices, can we baby?”

And his tongue teases your cum that pooled from your orgasm, the tip hot and wet as it tastes it, “tastes when better coming from this filthy princess cunt,” he grins against your thigh, teeth grazing your skin, making you lurch.

“T-Toru, please,” fuck you hated how needy you sounded, but you needed more — but he’s leaning away, pressing his cheek against the soft plush of your thigh.

“Need you to do something me first, sweetheart,” and his fingers are drawing teasing infinities on your thighs, “tell me how much you want me,”

“Fuck you,” you groan, “I know what you’re gonna say,” you add, cutting off his snappy retort of “I’m trying to,” “I want you, Satoru, please, I’ve wanted this for too long,” and your voice grows more teasing, “how long is my husband going to keep me waiting?”

And his eyes darken, the slight flush on his cheeks growing deeper, as his mouth presses a wet kiss to your sopping pussy, “good girl, think you deserve a reward,” and he’s manhandling your thighs, spreading them wide, as he buries his face in your cunt, “such a good little wife deserves to be eaten out,”

And eating is exactly what he does - you had only seen Satoru eat sweets with the same voracity he devoured you, pressing his thick fingers into your thighs as he splayed you out as his mouth pressed wet kisses to your dripping lips. His hot tongue drags up the length of your cunt, “best fucking thing I’ll ever taste, know what my last meal will be,” he’s murmuring against you, making you twitch, as he looks up at you with half lidded eyes and saliva and slick covered lips, “awww my pretty pussy begging to be filled? Well I can do that for you, baby,” and he’s burying his tongue in your messy hole.

The moan that leaves your lips leaves his cock harder and hurting, he didn’t know you could make such a lewd noise, and he couldn’t wait to make you make it again and again. He’s making out with your pussy at this mouth, your hips doing their best to grind against him, desperate for more, more, more.

And your fingers find his shoulders first, before sliding up to his hair, pressing him further against you, “you’re so fucking cute,” he murmurs, as he spreads your folds with his thumbs before tongue fucking you. His tongue teases and abuses your walls, deeper and deeper, before he pulls back to flick his tongue over your clit, making you moan even louder, “neighbors are gonna hear you at this rate, baby,” but he only sucks at your clit, harshly, “oh well, they know we’re newlyweds,” he’s humming as his ears hear your broken whines and pants, body tensed up against his.

And you’re so wet now, your slick drips down his jaw, mixed with his spit, “you’re all mine now, baby, can’t live without tasting you now—“ and he groans when your hips buck into his mouth again, feeling your walls twitch, “I know you’re close, Princess, tell me how good it feels,”

“S’good, Toru, I can’t—“ you’re pulling at his soft white locks now, making him grunt, and you fall apart, back arching as you cum as all you can hear are the squelching sounds of his tongue and mouth as he continues to eat you out through your orgasm.

And you’re twitching under him as he sucks up every bit of your cum, “so fucking good for me,” he’s finally pulling himself from your messy pussy, “can’t wait to feel you around me, should’ve known you have a little princess cunt,”

And he’s licking his lips and chin clean, as you watch him with half lidded eyes, still panting, as your eyes skim down his body, his jacket had been thrown aside at some point, but his now wrinkled shirt is only messily untucked from his dress pants, and disheveled was too good of a look on him, but you rather see those clothes on the floor of your bedroom, “you’re still annoyingly dressed,” you manage between breaths, still aching from his ministrations, “strip,”

He’s raising an eyebrow, a wicked grin on his lips, “So demanding for someone who was moaning my name a second ago,” but you pull yourself up, supporting yourself on a shaky arm while you use the other to tug on his tie, smashing his lips to yours.

You unfurl the very tie you tied, fingers flying to unbutton his shirt, “Made me feel so good, baby,” and now you were kneeling in front of him, your release slipping down your thighs, as you slipped his shirt off his shoulders, tossing it aside, heated eyes raking over his bare chest, tongue running over your lips, “only fair if I repay the favor,”

You’re undoing his belt for him, pulling it free from the loops, as your hand grazes his noticeable bulge in his suit pants, “surprised you haven’t ripped through,” you squeeze lightly, making his hips jerk, as he pouts all too cutely — and now you knew why he always teased you, “didn’t you tell me to have patience, love?”

“Your husband is running low on that at the moment, never been one to be patient, sweetheart,” he’s gritting his teeth, as you slip his pants off leaving him only in boxers.

Your eyes are glued to his erection, visible through the damp front of his boxers, wet with his precum, “so fuckin’ big, even better than I thought,” you say almost with reverence, and his lip quivers at the praise, a quiet groan leaving his throat. You raise an eyebrow, “like to be praised, baby boy?”

And he swallows, adam's apple bobbing, sweat on his forehead from his treatment of you, but a red flush deepens on his skin, “Princess,” it’s half a warning and half a plea—and morphs into a whimper as your fingers tease the head of his cock through his boxers, rubbing his precum into the fabric, “f-fuck, s’good with those hands, sweetheart,”

“Imagine how much better it’d be with your boxers out of the way,” you say leaning down and licking at the tip through the sticky fabric, as his head falls back with a soft moan, “can’t wait to feel this between my legs,” as you kiss the clothed tip, two fingers slipping in only to snap the waistband of the boxers against his skin, and he’s biting back a moan, a pout on his kiss ruined lips, “god, you’re so pretty,”

Another noise in the back of his throat, “Fuck, Princess,” he hissed, as you finally spare him, pulling his boxers off, his erection slapping against his too fucking incredible abs — how was he so unfairly perfect? He was so gorgeous — more long than girthy, but he was so thick still, and flushed red with pearly pre-cum at the tip. Each vein and curve felt as if he was made for you.

“All this for me, baby?” You tease, as his mouth opens and then closes as your fingers tease the head of his cock, a sharp inhale that keeps echoing in your ears, “all turned on from eating me out, huh?” You move close, nearly straddling him, but you don’t let your cunt brush against his cock — not yet.

And his dick twitches in your hand, “Sweetheart,” he whimpers, eyes nearly glassy with need, “such a fucking tease,”

And your lips curl, “Match made in heaven, baby,” you rub your thumb against his flushed tip, spreading the pre-cum along his shaft, “can’t wait to taste you, wonder if you taste as sweet as what you eat,” licking your lips, and he’s biting his lip, “tell me what you want, Toru,”

“Y’know what I want, Princess,” he’s panting as you lean forward to kiss him, lips sliding against his, just as your palm starts to stroke him, his moan is nearly pornographic, words spilling from his mouth, “want your pretty pussy around my cock, sweetheart, plesse,”

“Not so fast, baby,” you hum, your other hand moving to tease his balls, achingly full, judging by the gasp that left his throat, “wanna take my time with you, like you did with me, right?” And he breaks your kiss with a whine, “you feel so good in my hands, Toru, been thinking about this cock for too long,” and he’s grunting, lips parted as he pants, burying his face in your shoulder.

“How good?” he mumbles, and you’re grinning even wider — the great Satoru Gojo fell to pieces with only your touch and some praise, his face beautifully flushed as you tug him by the back of his hair, thumb running over his undercut as you do.

“So good that I wanna make you fall apart over and over until my name is the only thing on your lips,” you squeeze the base of his dick, making his hips jump, “gonna be a good boy for me and let me do it?”

And he’s nodding, utterly fucked out even before you’ve even started. And you guide him to the end of the bed, as you get on your knees for him, his gaze darkening as he watches you lean down to press your lips to the tip of his weeping erection, making him groan your name. And you trace his slit with the tip of your tongue, tasting his salty release, “How long you gonna tease me baby? I’m being so good for you,” he’s whining, his baby blues fluttering with lust as he looks down at you, choking as he sees how his precum paints your lips, “please, fuck, just—“

And you finally guide his cock into your mouth, and he’s jerking at the sensation and groaning as he watches your pretty little mouth take his length — those same smart lips that always had a reply for everything, the ones he’d jerked off to the thought of this very situation — you on your knees for him, the ones he’d wanted around him for so long — it was too much.

He almost blew his load all too fast, your warm mouth all too accommodating to his cock, as your wet walls and tongue swirl around him, tasting and sucking, your fingers grasping his thighs. And you bob up and down his length, the weight of his cock making the ache between your legs worse, and your eyes flicker up, and moan as you watch him.

He’s so fucking gorgeous — panting and so fucked out, as his lips part for you, your name leaving his kissed red lips, teeth baring down on his bottom lip, “Fuck, my little wife is so pretty on her knees,” as his hands settle on your head, watching you sink your mouth down on his cock, pleasure running up his spine, as his thick fingers dig into your scalp, “so nasty, baby, fuuuuck, gonna fuck your throat at this rate,” he groans, “how’d you get so good at this baby? Don’t answer that,” he adds, a growl in his words, and you almost giggle around his dick.

“Learned so I could blow you, husband, after all, this mouth is yours,” you grin, and his lips curl too and then they part as he grunts, as you press teasing kisses along his length before sliding it back into your mouth, beginning to let the tip hit the back of your throat. You gag on him, making him moan, as he helps you deepthroat him, his hips thrusting against you lightly, his white pubes brushing against your face.

And he’s moaning even louder, as he watches you, drool slipping down your chin as he fucks your mouth, tongue massaging him as he did, “Made just to fuck me, huh? Want my load that bad, Princess?” And his words have your eyes rolling back as he’s moving against you, his cock twitching telling you that he’s close, “shiiit, fuck, my wife’s a slut for me, gonna swallow my cum baby?”

“Only for you,” you pull away a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips to his dick, smiling, before you slip him back into your too eager mouth, and you hollow your cheeks, the lewd noises of your tongue and mouth sending him over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum, baby, can I cum in—“ and you make his tip brush your throat again as you suck, looking at him with half lidded, dilated eyes. And he spills into your mouth, hot cum down your throat, as he holds your head gently in place, “shit Princess,” his hips jumping at the sight of you, cum and spit slipping from the corner of your mouth as you pull his cock from you, “s’good for me,”

He’s still panting, as you climb into his lap properly, his cock sliding against your cunt, making his face twist in pleasure, as you lick your mouth clean of him, wiping your chin, “Taste so good, Toru,” you hum, his eyes half lidded with pleasure, chest still heaving, as he leans back on shaky arms, “you may be my favorite meal, but I think I rather,” you grind on his lap teasingly dragging his tip against your messy cunt, “have you cum inside me,”

And he gives a delicious gasp, “baby, too sensitive,” but you’re tilting his chin back as you meet his lips, both of you moaning as you taste yourselves on the other’s lips, “you’re gonna be the death of me, Princess,” he’s chuckling, as he starts to grab your thighs, putting you properly into his lap, “you gonna ride me like a good little princess? Fuck yourself on my cock?”

How does he have the upper hand when you’re the one on top?

As you feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, and he’s sliding your body back and forth, his cock slapping and sliding against your wrecked cunt, so close to sinking in. His hand bears down on your ass, slapping it, before his fingers squeeze it, making you jump against him, your chest brushing against his, “you like that huh?” he’s grinning, as he kisses you again, his lips sliding against you, swallowing your moans eagerly, “what do you want, baby? Remember to say please,” he adds, and you want to roll your eyes, but his fingers rub your clit, and any protest you had fled your mind.

“Please,” and you’re using your fingers to part yourself above him, making his eyes roll back, as you grasp his cock, teasing your dripping cunt with the head of his dick, “fuck me,”

And you sink onto him, inch by inch, as your head looks back, your walls squeezing as he parted your folds, “You’re drenching me, sweetheart, fucking perfect princess cunt is gonna wring me dry,” he grunts, as his fingers splay over your hips, grasping but not pushing, letting you go at your pace, “s’good, might just have to fill you up, again and again,” and your pussy twitches at that thought drawing a laugh from him lips, “you want that? My wife wants to be full of my cum,” he’s groaning when you finally fit all of his cock in you, cunt clamping down on him, “trying to break my cock? Don’t have to go that far to keep me, I’m living in this sweet cunt from now on,”

You’re a mess — whining and moaning, your chest bouncing as you begin to move against him, “Toru, so full, s’good,” his own hips jumping against yours, a low growl in his throat, as his hands begin to guide your hips, snapping his own hips as he fucks you onto his own cock, reaching new depths, as your eyes squeeze shut, “fuckfuckfuuuck, Toru,” you’re babbling and moaning his name, again and again — and he just needs more.

And he’s spanking you, hands coming down on your ass, as he grunts, your warm walls twitching and squeezing him, brushing against sweet spots that have both of you groaning, “such a fucking good girl, taking my cock — I know you can take more, baby, my perfect wife,” and he’s capturing your nipple in his mouth, teeth grazing it before he sucks, his hips growing even faster, until his cock finds your special spot.

“Toru, g’nna cum, I—“ And your orgasm hits you, head thrown back as your lips part in a silent scream, toes curling as you wrap your legs around his waist, and he’s fucking you right through — fucking relentless, almost limitless, with his pace, groaning as he watches his the base of his cock covered in your release, a pool of white that almost has him cumming then and there.

“S’ fuckinh pretty, Princess, and all mine,” he says, as you moan, as he slows his pace, your face buried in his shoulder, as you come down from your high, and he’s tilting your head.

But he isn’t done yet.

In a moment, he’s pulling his cock out — a whine parting your mouth — as he manhandles you so that you’re flat on your back, your ankles thrown over his shoulders, and spread wide for him. You’re the picture of filth — lips in a kiss ruined pout, chest rising and falling as you gaze up at him with needy eyes, and your perfect cunt leaking and drenched for him — he could see everything — all of you, the way your cum slid down your hole, the way it clenched around nothing, the pretty pink insides he was desperate to make his.

He licks his lips, “soaking my lap and sheets with your cum, baby, such a dirty girl,” and he’s spreading your lips, letting your release trickle out.

“Satoru,” you whine as he runs a finger over your still twitching pussy, as if begging for his cock back, “please, too sensitive,”

“Please what, sweetheart? Because your cunt seems to disagree,” his chuckle is a deep noise that reverberates through his chest as he leans down to press your lips to yours in a languid kiss, “such a nerdy princess, imagine how’d your family would feel — seeing you beg for my cock, huh? Not the chaste little princess anymore? Nah, you’re my filthy baby,” and you’re whimpering, “tell me baby, I know you’re not nearly fucked dumb yet, you’re too smart for that,” he coos, a grin on his lips as he stares with that damn crystalline gaze.

And finally he’s sinking into you again, cock sliding back into your soaked cunt, “God, I love you,” he murmurs, as he’s somehow deeper inside you, pussy pressed against all of him, “so fucking perfect, baby, better than I imagined,” he’s pussydrunk now as he rails into you, and you’re grasping at him, the only sound in your ears is the squelch of him as he filled you again and again as his chest presses against yours, fucking you long and hard, “you’re all mine now, baby. My wife, my body, my love, my soul — all of it,” he growls his last words, grunting as his hips begin to stutter as he kisses your sweet spot again and again, “you want me to cum in this sweet princess pussy, baby? Wanna make me a daddy?”

Your cunt twitches at that, and he laughs, “did you just get wetter, baby? Didn’t think you could do that,”

But you’re only moaning, you’re so fuckin’ close but you want him to cum with you - wanna feel him sink into as he does. And so you’re meeting his lips in a searing kiss, his hips thrusting harder and longer, “give me your baby, Toru, breed me,” you whisper, words slurring as you pant and stutter, all sense had left your mind - and all you wanted was him.

“Fuck, Princess,” he’s grunting as he pistons in and out of you, bed groaning under his thrusts, until your walls clamp down again and again on him as you cum, throbbing and needy as you moan his name, back arching, “g’nna cum,”

And he does, his cock hitting the deepest part of you as he does, his warm seed filling you up, as his hips continue to fuck it deeper into you, making you whimper, as he just keeps on cumming ropes, “oh, f-fuck, Princess,” he rasps as he kisses you, sloppy and wet, as he pants, watching your face come down him your high, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him, “so beautiful,” he murmurs, as he rubs his thumb down your lips.

He pulls out slowly, groaning as he watches your mixed releases leak out of you, dragging the tip of his weeping erection down your cunt, a whine leaving your throat again, “So fucking filthy, baby,” he hums, a shiteating grin on his lips, as he collects his cum on his fingers, and pushes it back inside of you, as you jump, a small pout on your lips making him laugh, “gotta make good on my promise, baby,” and he’s kissing you silly again, “gotta get you pregnant and full for me,”

His body is sticky with sweat, as he eases your aching legs down, as he kisses up your body, nosing your neck, “So perfect for me, Princess, I love you,” he says so earnestly that it makes you melt, as you pull him into a kiss, “suppose we consummated our marriage now, does this mean we get to have a honeymoon now?” he’s grinning, as you roll your eyes, “come on, don’t you want to travel?”

And you laugh, “I don’t think we would even leave the hotel room if you had your way,” and he’s pressing his thumb against your bottom lip and dragging down, before kissing you, sliding his tongue into your mouth to taste you.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” And your breath catches a moment, before you sigh, and he grins again, “so?”

You roll over to grab your phone, kissing his lips, pulling up possible destinations, “where are we going?”

“Satoru, we’re at the office, uhmph—“ Satoru’s kissing you even before the elevator doors shut, and you can’t help but not care if anyone saw either of you making out, his talented tongue stealing your logic from under you, before he’s pulling away, your lipstick nearly smeared all over his face. You bite back a laugh, before using your thumb to wipe away the evidence of your kiss, “we’ve been here less than a minute, and you’re already making a mess,”

And his lips catch your thumb between them, kissing it sweetly, “What do I do better than make a mess of you, princess?” and he’s pressing sweet kisses to your fingertips, before you’re pulling him back for another kiss, right before you hear the elevator ding, and you scramble apart.

Your cheeks flushed, as you stepped onto the floor of the newly merged company that was formerly your families’ individual companies, now united as one — just as you and Satoru were now — which was why he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of you. The two of you had come into the office to finalize the transition for your staff, each of you dealing with formalities on either side, but Satoru did little to help your focus on the process with his blatant stares and sneaky touches.

Twice already he had pulled you into his office, only to have you either pressed against his door, or bent over his desk. And god, you sat in your office, biting your lip as you thought about paying him another visit — and fuck, this is what he wanted.

You pull your phone out and text him: You suck.

And his reply is instant. If I recall from last night, you’re the one who sucks ;)

You’ve left me high and dry, Satoru, and I shouldn’t be thinking about fucking you in the office. Especially with both of our parents around in meetings all day.

He replies, Nah, that’s exactly why you should be thinking about it.

And then another text.

Imagine our parents walking in while you’re under my desk doing what you do best, you’d be quiet for me, Princess? Wouldn’t let us get caught when I fuck your pretty mouth?

You’re biting your lip — Fucker, I hate you.

Nah, you love me, a little too much, Princess. Another text — especially the way you were moaning my name last night.

And there’s a knock at your door in that moment — “Come in,” you intone, and you were ninety-nine percent sure that was Satoru — ready to make good on his promise — and then white hair visible as the door swings open, “Father,”

It was a Gojo, but not the one you expected — your father in law, instead of his son.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, lips curling in a smile that was all too the same as his son — but missing the same charm, the distinct softness that made you adore Satoru was not present in his father — nor was his father very present at all — except to chastise his son on how he thought his son should live his life.

And he was interrupting — interrupting you about to sext his son and your husband from the confines of your office, but you only offered a smile, “Not at all, can I help you with something, Father?”

He’s shutting the door behind him, before taking a seat across from you, “I just wanted to have a chat with you — it’s been so long since we’ve been able to see the two of you — we still haven’t had you over since you’ve returned from your honeymoon,”

“It’s been very busy,” and it had been, but not too busy to see Satoru’s family. Since the launch party, you and Satoru had agreed to steer clear of his father for some time, until Satoru could develop some more healthy boundaries with him. And so you could get through a conversation without strangling him (although Satoru wasn’t opposed to seeing that), “with the merger and Satoru and I trying to spend time to get know each other again,”

“Of course,” but his smile told you he was unconvinced, “I wanted to talk to you about something important, I’ve seen how close you and Satoru have gotten since the engagement and the wedding, and I was happy to see you pushing him in the right direction,”

“”Pushing him?’” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“With the merger, I haven’t seen him so focused, so determined, and I knew my suggestion to my wife to have you marry him was the right choice,” and you stare at him, mouth agape, as anger slowly melts from your stomach into every vein of his body, fingers curling into fists.

“Excuse me?”

He leans back in his chair, “When the idea of the merger was floated by me, I knew I wanted a condition to be your marriage to Satoru,” his eyes glance over the things on your desk — the stacked folders, the paperwork, and the pictures of your family and of Satoru, “you’re driven, you’re focused, you’re perfect — I knew you could change him, and I was right,” his lips curl, and you can’t hold your tongue anymore.

“Maybe what your son needed was someone to support him,” your words are even, but your body is tense, “he needed someone not to scold him, to put him down, to whisper doubts in his ear when he needed help,” you rise from your chair slowly, “I respect you as my father-in-law and as my family’s old friend and co-owner of this company, but,” you glare at him, “no one insults my husband’s capabilities, and makes me takes credit for his achievements,”

The old man’s teeth grit, and he opens to respond, when there’s a curt knock at the door, and Satoru enters, “Old man, how about you go chat with the other old farts in the room? Pretty sure you’re bleeding investors by the second the longer you talk with my wife,” he slides a small smile to you that tells you he heard everything.

Satoru’s father shoots a glare at both of you, before leaving the room in a huff, door shutting behind him, and you sigh, rubbing your temples, “I’m sorry if I made things worse—”

And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms snaking around your waist and pulling you against him, “Thank you, Princess,” he murmurs into your ear, making you tense, “oh you like that, huh?” and you roll your eyes, laughing.

“Even in a moment like this, huh?” you lean up and whisper in his ear, “I don’t just like it, I love it,” and it’s his turn to shiver, his cheeks burning, “you’re so cute,” you grin, before leaning up and kissing him. He melts into the kiss, his fingers cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss, pulling your waist against his, and you feel his arousal pressed against your thigh.

You pull away, tilting your head, you snort, “Already?”

And he bites his lip, “Take some responsibility, baby, it’s your fault,” and he leans down and grazes your ear with his teeth, “not my fault my hot wife defended my honor and then decided to whisper sweet nothings in my ear,”

You hum, guiding his lips to yours, your teeth graze over his bottom lip, “And how should I take responsibility, baby?” and he shudders, crystalline eyes glazed over with lust, “we’re in the office, not very professional,” his fingers unbutton your blouse, so he can lean down and kiss your collarbone.

“I was never very professional to begin with,” he smirks, his teeth grazing over the soft skin, sucking and biting, making you gasp, “don’t be so loud, someone will hear us, what will they think?” he murmurs, with a grin against your skin, as he continues to undo your blouse, as he turns you around so your back is against your chest, he tilts your head to look at your door, “look it’s unlocked, anyone could walk in,” and his fingers sneak down the front of your skirt, fingers teasing your panties, “fuuuck, princess, you’re soaked through — are you more turned on by the idea of getting caught?” and you whimper, only making him grin wickedly against your neck, “my filthy girl, imagine your father walking in, seeing your husband’s fingers down your skirt, legs spread wide like a slut,”

“Satoru,” you’re biting your lip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised it would bleed, your knees buckling, as his fingers part your dripping folds, “we can’t—”

“We can,” he shushes you, guiding your lips to his, fingers cupping your throat, but he leans back to get confirmation that you were okay, and you lean in again to kiss him, “such a good girl,” You whimper, and he laughs, “gotta break in the new office don’t we?”

And his fingers slip your panties aside, two fingers parting your folds, and you gasp, as he stuffs two fingers into your mouth as well, “Not so loud, Princess, can’t give the office gossip mill something really juicy, now can we?” And his digits start to really fuck you, in and out, the wet squelch ringing in your ears, as his fingers bully and stretch your walls, until they find what they are looking for — your g-spot.

You fall apart, but it’s gushing all over his hand, soaking his hand, as your hand grasps at the fingers in his mouth trying to stifle your noises, “Fuck, Princess, did you just squirt for me?” He’s grinning, “such a sloppy little Princess, look you’re staining the carpet with your cum,” he guides your head to look, seeing the spot on the carpet, as you lean against him, “gotta do this again,”

He kisses you as you moan. Tangled limbs and eager touches, as you guide him over to the desk, as you settle him into the chair, lips still parting as your tongue slips in, “Your turn,” and before he can even react, you’re slipping down to your knees, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, slipping his aching dick out, nearly slapping your face with it, you drag it along your lips, “Like you said, I’m the one who sucks right?” you wink, before you finally lick the length of his cock, tracing the veins to the slit, “you always taste so good, Toru,” and he’s hissing now.

“Fuck, baby, you always so pretty on your knees for me,” and you have to disagree — he’s the one who looks pretty — shirt disheveled, chest rising and falling far too fast, as he looked down at you with his snowy white eyelashes half lidded with a lust ridden gaze — “your pretty mouth is s’fucking perfect, can’t wait to cum down that lovely throat,” he hisses, as his fingers dig into your scalp, urging his cock deeper, his tip brushing against your throat, making you gag.

He opens his mouth to apologize, but you only shake your head, as you do it again, making his hips buck against you, tip hitting your throat again, his composure quickly falling to shreds, as he’s fucking your throat now, biting his lip so hard to keep his groans in, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was bleeding afterwards.

“I-I’m close,” he’s gritting his teeth, but you only redouble your efforts, “so fuckin’ perfect, made to suck this dick—”

And that’s when there’s a knock on the door, making you both freeze. You panic silently — before Satoru is shepherding you under your desk, while he adjusts himself, scooting your chair in more, so his weeping cock is hidden along with you.

“Come in,” Satoru says, as even toned as someone who was just fucking their wife’s throat can manage, “Dad—what a nice surprise,”

And you cover your mouth — fuck it was your dad — Satoru called his dad, “old man” — what the fuck.

“I should be saying that to you son,” you bite your lip, listening to their conversation, “where’s my daughter? And why are you in her office?” and you covered your mouth, shit — you were hiding under your own desk, while Satoru sat in your chair.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I was just waiting for her to come back with lunch,” he manages, and you can almost see the dependable smile on his lips, “she volunteered to get us lunch and she told me to wait here so we could eat together,”

Your father was seemingly convinced after that, but to both of your dismay, sat down to speak with Satoru about business matters. You crouched, utterly bored as you listened to them talk, his erection beginning to wane, and you got an idea in your pretty little head — you grinned — well, Satoru should be careful what he wishes for, or he might just get you blowing him in front of your father.

You start slow — teasing the head with a brush of your fingers, easily could have been an accident, but it nearly makes him jump, as he gives a warning nudge with his foot gently. But then your hand begins to rub him in earnest, fingers using your spit as lube, as you heard your husband stammer over his words to your father. But it was nothing compared to when you closed your mouth over his cock, and began to deepthroat him again.

“Satoru, are you okay?’ you hear your father ask, as you discreetly suck your husband’s cock under his desk, and you can only imagine the delightful shade of red your Toru is turning.

“Sorry, I’m not feeling like myself,” he mumbles, as he grits his teeth in an attempt not to moan, and you can feel his thighs tense as he forces himself not to fuck your mouth as he wants to right now. He’s so close — as much as you like the idea of getting caught, you think Satoru likes it as much or maybe even more — his cock is twitching in your mouth as you suck and swirl your tongue around it, as your fingers dig into your thighs, “I apologize, I’m getting a call. Could you excuse me?”

And your father is oblivious, and excuses himself from the room, door shutting behind him, and Satoru groans, “Fuck, princess, you almost made me cum in front of your dad in this nasty fucking mouth,” and you suck harder, fingers fondling his balls, as his fingers find your locks again, and his hips jerk into your mouth, his white pubes tickling your nose, “thaaat’s it, fuck, so fuckin’ good, i’m close, sweetheart,” he groans, “you want me to cum—“ and you bury his cock deeper into your mouth as an answer, your hands pumping what you couldn’t fit, until he cums down your throat.

You meet his half lidded gaze, swallowing his cum, as you ease off his cock, a mix of cum and saliva connected your lips, “You taste so good,” you lick your lips, as you push the chair a little back and climb out, as you tug his boxers and pants back up, tucking his cock back in, “my favorite treat,”

He smiles, chest still rising and falling fast, “I love you, princess,” so genuinely as he pulls you into a deep kiss.

You giggle, humming against his lips, “So heartfelt after getting your soul sucked out of your dick,” you glance at the door, “do you think anyone heard us?”

He shrugs, as he pulls you into his lap, “I hope they did,” he grins against your neck, as you roll your eyes.

“You’re terrible,” and his lips curl.

“And you love me,” you kiss those same lips you would each day.

“I do.”

~~~~

“What do you wanna do today?” Satoru asks, your legs thrown over his lap, as you read a book you had picked up the other day out on a date with him, and he eats the kikufuku he had insisted on picking up the same day.

“Hmm, I have some ideas,” you hum, hiding your smile with a book, and you don’t need to see his face to know he’s grinning.

“And what’s that, Princess?” he leans forward, plucking the book from your fingers, as you tut at his sugar covered fingers, “shouldn’t you share your feelings with your husband?” And his lips brush against your neck, nose brushing against the soft skin of your nape, inhaling your scent.

“Well I have a surprise for you,” you weren’t planning on giving it to him now, but you pulled a wrapped box from behind the couch cushions, “should I make you wait?”

He’s reaching for the box already, as you laugh, and he’s snatching it from your fingers before you can tease him, “can I open it?” He was so eager, as always.

“Go ahead, baby,” you bite your lip, a small smile on your lips.

He lifts the lid of the wrapped box off, and the first thing his eyes flit across is the word “positive.”

His mouth parts, as he stares at the pregnancy test carefully nestled into the box, “is this—“ his cerulean eyes meet yours, a soft gaze with wonder, “are we—“

“We’re having a baby, Toru,” you nod, and he’s sweeping you into his arms, as you squeak, his body sweeping you up in his, as he buries his face in your neck, “Toru—“

“Is this real?” He murmurs, into your skin, all soft words and soft kisses, “I feel like I’m dreaming,”

“Well I am your dream girl, so maybe don’t be surprised when I pinch you and you wake up,” you pinch his cheek lightly, making his pale skin cutely flushed, pink dusting his cheeks, “no dream here, all real — so I guess you’re just lucky,”

“The luckiest,” he hums, a quiet noise that soothes you, “a beautiful wife, and now,” his fingers graze over your stomach, before lifting the hem of your shirt, to press his lips to it, “and now we’re going to be a family,”

Your lips curl, tilting his chin up so his watery gaze meets your own, thumb rubbing the length of his cheek, “We already were a family,

He raises his eyebrows in mock surprise, “I thought we were mortal enemies,” and you laugh, before shrugging.

“That too,” and he pulls you into his lap, smiling, “but you’re actually pretty cute,”

He gasps mockingly, “Princess, do you have a crush on me? A mere commoner?”

You roll your eyes, pressing a languid kiss to his lips, tasting the lingering sweetness of the kikufuku, “I hate you,” you say, when he knows you mean quite the opposite.

And he only smiles the same way he always did — and the same way he always would — “love you too, Princess."

✩ a/n: so this was also inspired by a character AI made by @/fairybaby that has been living in my mind rent free for far too long. thank you to @/laneymusings for being the best emotional support from writing to formatting to everything in between

✩ tag list: @ryliobrow, @getosho3cakes, @delaneyyyy, @soukokufan, @purplscnerie, @solarlunarsstuff, @growingupnrealizing, @forest-fruits-jam, @achipstea1ingseagull, @fruitscall, @starplasma-cujoh, @crashing-a-jeep, @mwah-chia, @vorschlaghannah, @xrysakts, @emonaculate

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sab [mlist]#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk au

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honeydazai · 2 months

Text

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ sending them suggestive pictures while they're at work

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fukuzawa, Fyodor, Sigma

content: nsfw, female reader, spanking, sexting, oral sxx, masturbation, semi public

It's not unusual for DAZAI to tap away on his phone during work hours, so no one — except for Kunikida, who still hasn't given up on glaring — pays it any mind when his smirk widens at his screen. What remains a secret, however, is that he's not looking at some funny tweet but instead at your tits, the blue lace of your bra making for a pleasant contrast in colour.

He's awfully smug about the whole ordeal, really; also, who is he not to play along? He definitely sends you not only some appreciative words back, but also a picture of his own, featuring either his hands — he does know that you're quite fond of his fingers, after all —, his face — because you can never complain about that! —, or his by now half-hard dick, pressing against his trousers, even though taking soft nudes borders on workplace indecency. Oh, and your pictures are definitely saved and stored away on his phone for later usage.

[new message from Dazai] “someone's needy, harassing me during work hours! just kidding bella!! you're so cute xx stunning too! how am i supposed to listen to kunikida any longer when you're so so pretty? :( ill call out sick, be there in 20 x”

CHŪYA really doesn't expect to see anything but a picture of a dog you saw outside or of a particularly pretty flower when he spares a brief glance at his phone during a Port Mafia meeting. It's already disrespectful, though he doesn't plan on anyone noticing the miniscule action — that is, until he all but chokes on his coffee at the photo of you, legs spread wide, two fingers deep inside of yourself, wearing not only his favourite lingerie set, but also one of his ties.

He tries hard to ignore the way everyone stares at him when he, all too abruptly, excuses himself to the bathroom, his face bright red. In the safety of a stall, he really can't do anything but shove his trousers to his knees, one hand immediately closing around his dick while he types your number into his phone with his free one — and while he might snap at you, oh so flustered, he's also so damn turned on that he can barely focus on anything but the sound of your voice and your photo.

“Fucking Hell, babe—, God, with how Mori was looking at me, I bet he knew what was up. Fuck—, send me another one, please, I'm so damn close, ah—”

Business meetings aren't RANPO'S favourite way to spend time. They're awfully boring, making him huff and sigh when he has to sit through them — though this one gets a lot more interesting the moment he clicks on a text message from you. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of your panties, pure lace and hiding not even the slightest bit just how wet you are, thighs glistening, though that's about all the physical reaction he's going to show. The fact that his dick strains against his trousers is no one's business.

He is, however, quick to text you back, amusement dripping from his messages, and if Fukuzawa wasn't already watching him with sharp eyes, he'd sneak away to the bathroom to call you. For now, you'll just have to do with sexting — this meeting is going to go on for a while, especially if he won't soon start contributing, and he's unfortunately got better things to do.

[new message from Ranpo] “having fun without me? youre so mean. at least send me more pics im dyin g here... maybw bend over or— ooo i know, we bought that toy a while ago, right? why don't you use that one for me, doll....”

FUKUZAWA sucks in a sharp breath the second his eyes fall onto your form clad in nothing but one of his yukatas, and even though he attempts to remain calm, he's already blushing, arousal churning low in his stomach. Really, he was just trying to take a miniscule break from all the paperwork he's facing — besides, the cat ringtone signaling your message did sound rather urgent! —, though now he's not certain whether he can focus on it again.

He ends up typing “This is most inappropriate.” in response, though he never sends it, instead replacing it with a “You look stunning.”, only to never send that one either. In the end, he just quits work a little earlier that day and hurries home faster than he'd ever want to admit, cheeks still flushed with arousal when he joins you in bed, immediately slotting himself between your pretty thighs, long fingers spreading your folds apart and into your cunt to prepare you — only to realise you've long done that yourself. How convenient. He might reprimand you a little afterwards, though both of you realise it's not to be taken seriously. When he's honest with himself, he rather liked that photo — and he'll definitely keep it.

“That was awfully inappropriate. Darling, you know I enjoy getting to hear from you during the day, and yet — what? I didn't mind you wearing my clothing in the slightest. I was worried about someone from the Agency seeing the picture. In fact, wear my clothes again whenever you feel like it. Please do. You looked quite irresistible.”

It's almost unfair just how seemingly unbothered FYODOR is. When checking his phone during a Decay of Angels meeting, aware that you know not to contact him except for important reasons, he merely glances at the photo lewdly depicting your raised skirt and the curve of your behind before putting it back into his pocket. Really, it's downright adorable that you're attempting to tease him — you should know better by now, darling.

While he doesn't bother with a response, he certainly makes sure to pay attention to you when he returns home. And, oh, the next time you want to toy with him, he sure hopes you remember this very moment, of you bent across his lap, his hand coming down ever so often on your butt, on the soft skin of your upper thighs, making you cry out with every slap. The marks, at least, will serve as a nice reminder, especially when you keep forgetting to thank him for every hit.

“There we go, dear. Ah, ah — don't cry now. This is what you wanted, is it not? My undivided attention — and you certainly have it, now. Which number were we on again? Tell me, darling, or we will have to start over, I'm afraid.”

The second SIGMA spares a quick glance at his phone, only to stumble upon a rather revealing picture you just sent him — and, God, 'rather revealing' is an understatement when he's able to see just how wet you are, thighs spread for the camera —, his face heats up significantly, earning him some odd looks from the other men he's currently in a meeting with. In a desperate attempt to regain professionalism, he clears his throat, trying to simply continue, but it's as if every thought has been erased from his mind and was replaced by you.

When getting home that evening, he's calmed down considerably, cheeks still warm with the memory of you being this bold, though his sudden calmness might just change when you expect him in that exact same position, legs wide apart, the smile on your face teasing — and who is he not to end up on his knees in front of you, tongue flattening against your cunt while both of you let out breathy moans? In the end, he's all but begging you to return the favour.

“Ah, God, I'm close. At least finish me off, please—, you were really cruel today, dear. Make it up to me? Please? Oh, fuck—”

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Fake It Till You Make It - CL16

The Princess of Monaco is wild and out of control. She needs to stop being in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons. Charles Leclerc has had a spot of bad press since his very public break up. He needs some good PR. What better way to fix their problems than to pair them up?

Fake Dating turned real dating trope

6.3K

For the purpose of this story, I have fabricated the royal family of Monaco. I have created the members of the family, their roles and what they do, using only the fact that Monaco has a royal family

ROYAL MESS

In the early hours of the Morning on Friday, the 19th of May, Princess Y/N of Monaco was found lying in the street outside of MK Club Monaco after what appears to be a wild night out. Fans of the princess know this is no new occurrence for her.

When asked, employees in the club were quoted as saying: “It is always a delight to serve the princess. She is always polite and kind when ordering from the bar, always offering to pay for the drinks of those around her."

"Princess Y/N is fun to party with, sure. But she takes it too far, gets too drunk, and leaves us all wondering how far is too far?" Said one club patron to our reporters.

It leaves us all wondering how far is too far for the Princess of Monaco? When will her family finally take action against her partying ways?

Pictures such as these are not uncommon for the Princess of Monaco, showing us just how far royal privilege goes. It is at times like these where we thank any higher power above us that she is just the spare

Y/N's brother threw the newspaper down in front of her. His jaw was tense and his eye twitched, having just read out the entire article. "Seriously?" He said and leaned forward on his desk, staring down at his sister.

"I don't know what you're so upset about," Y/N muttered as she picked at the dirt beneath her nails. "You're not in the article."

Her brother, Herni, Prince of Monaco, let out a huff. He wanted to grip his hair and pull out of frustration, but he couldn't do that, he had to be pristine and perfect.

For years he and his family had been working to try and improve Y/N's image. It was no easy task. Well, Y/N certainly didn't make it easy. The royal family had tried to control the press, control what the night clubs were saying; they had tried to control Y/N, but none of it was working.

Henri was at his wits end.

He stood straight and turned around, looking towards the window. "How do you not understand that your actions reflect our entire family? That this shit makes all of us look bad, not just you?"

"Like the article said, I'm just the spare," she spat back, not looking up from her nails.

"Oh, don't give me that shit." Henri tried to keep his composure calm, tried not to lose his shit, but Y/N was making it very, very hard. "You're just a spoiled, little brat," he hissed.

Y/N let out a dry laugh. "I'm the selfish one? Seriously, Henri?" She called and he shot her a dirty, venomous look. So, she continued. "Who was it that threw a tantrum like a child when he didn't get the Ferrari 250 GTO for twenty-third birthday?"

Her brother glared, easily hiding his surprise that she remembered the name of the car he had so desperately wanted seven years ago.

But then Henri dropped his glare. She was just lashing out because she was pissed off about the article, he realised as he sat in his seat. "Go on, get out of here," he said to her, his head falling into his hands. He grabbed the newspaper article and slipped it back into his desk drawer.

Y/N didn't have a job. She was twenty-two, living fast and living off her family. Her family had tried to force her to get a job, but that had only pushed her into being more wild and out of control. Henri, though, he had a job. Their father had given him the important task of keeping an eye on Y/N and putting out her fires. It was an exhausting job, one that had him losing sleep.

He had to do something, he had no idea what.

There was one thing Henri could force his sister to do. And that was attend the Monaco Grand Prix.

Every year Henri and Y/N went to the Monaco Grand Prix. Y/N could still remember the first time she ever attended the Monaco Grand Prix. She was just ten years old, an eighteen year old Henri holding her hand as they walked through the paddock. She remembered standing up on the podium, watching as her brother gave a trophy to Jenson Button, and going to give Fernando Alonso a trophy of his own.

This happened every year. And, every year since she was a little girl, Y/N looked forward to seeing Fernando Alonso. The Spaniard always seemed to remember her, always greeting her with a kind, wide smile. Although Y/N loved the races, this was her favourite part of the weekend.

Because she really did love the races. As much as she tried to act nonchalant, Henri knew she loved it, loved the sounds of the cars as they came driving past.

This year, Henri kept Y/N in front of him as they walked through the paddock, waving at the drivers and the teams. The Grand Prix was full of celebrities, as it was every year. And, as with every year, Y/N and Henri were the talk of the town.

In the Red Bull garage, Y/N and Henri met Tom Holland, the Spider-Man, who was awestruck. He couldn't quite believe it as the youngest member of the Monaco Royal Family stood in front of him, talking to him about his role as Peter Parker.

At the Aston Martin garage, Y/N ran straight into Fernando's arms. "There she is," he said as she hugged him back. The bond Y/N had with Fernando was special. They'd saw each other only once a year at the Monaco Grand Prix and, in a weird way, it was like he had watched her grow up right in front of his eyes.

He knew of her partying ways and it worried him, just like it would a father to his daughter. "How have you been?" He asked, his Spanish accent thick.

As Henri moved onto the Ferrari garage, his favourite garage, as Y/N chatted to Fernando. Her favourite garage was wherever Fernando was, and she wasn't afraid to admit that. They caught up on the last year and Fernando introduced her to his teammate, a man Y/N had only met briefly before.

In the Ferrari garage, Henri said hello to Carlos Sainz. Carlos and Henri had always been friendly, that friendliness growing into some kind of friendship when he moved to Ferrari.

But then then was Charles Leclerc.

Herni loved Charles. He had several of his old F1 cars, including one of his Sauber cars, in his private collection. He'd been following Charles's career closely as he represented their country. The day he had his first win in Monaco was going to be a big day for Henri.

"Ah, Charles!" Henri called as he spotted him, already in his race overalls.

The overalls themselves were red and white, matching the flag of Monaco. Charles grinned when he saw Henri, striding over to the prince. "How are you? How is your sister?" He asked as they walked together through the Ferrari garage.

Henri pulled a face. "She is... she is Y/N," he answered with a curt nod. "Anyway, how about you? How is your season going?" He asked.

Charles gave a pained smile, and that was answer enough for Henri. "Ah," he said as they continued to walk. "Well, today will be your day."

The pair continued to chat as they walked through the paddock, catching up like old friends. Because, by this point, they were old friends. Herni asked about Charles's family and his plans for the summer break, and about his girlfriend.

Again, Charles gave Henri a look. "Ah, no girlfriend," Henri said and Charles nodded.

"I got a bit of bad publicity from it," Charles said. "I'm surprised you didn't hear about it."

Suddenly, Henri got an idea. An incredible, wonderful, terrible idea. He looked at his friend, wearing a grin, and said, "I think we can help each other out."

It was clear Charles was confused. So, Henri continued. "My sister wild and out of control," he said. "She needs somebody to get her imagine under control, and you need some good publicity. Take my sister on a couple of dates, take her to some grand prix and it'll make the both of you look good."

Charles suddenly frowned. "What? Henri, we can't do that," he said.

Henri checked his watch. The race was bound to start any moment now, he needed to grab Y/N and go sit. "Think about it," he said to Charles, wished him good luck, and went back to the Aston Martin garage to find his sister.

Henri didn't say anything to his sister as they watched the race. They watched Charles go from pole to second, Henri trying not to let the disappointment show on his face as he watched Y/N give Charles his second place trophy.

There was a good few weeks where Henri didn't hear anything from Charles. So, he didn't say anything to Y/N, whilst also trying to get her under control.

It wasn't working; Henri was close to begging. He kept an eye out for Charles's name in the press, looking for that bad bit of publicity he was talking about. And there was a lot of it, international news outlets accusing Charles of cheating, saying his bad start to the season was because of Karma.

It wasn't looking good for him, thought Henri as his phone vibrated.

He picked it up and read through his messages.

Charles Leclerc

I'm in

***

It was rare for Y/N and Henri to eat dinner together. He was always busy and she didn't give a shit. But, today, Henri insisted.

They sat across from each other, a ridiculously long table between them. Any attempt at conversation was near to impossible with the distance between them.

So, with no thought of decorum, Y/N picked up her dinner and moved down the table coming to sit right beside her brother. "What were you saying?" She asked as she tucked into her dinner.

Henri cleared his throat. "I've been speaking with Charles Leclerc."

"Okay?" Y/N looked up at him, her brows furrowed. "Good for you, Hen."

"Just listen, please," he insisted and Y/N fell quiet, returning her attention back to her food. "Its been decided by your PR team, dad, and I, that it would be best if you were seen to be with someone more... presentable. And our friend Charles if also in need of a bit of good press at the minute."

"So you want me to fake date Charles Leclerc?"

Henri nodded his head. "Not fake date him, exactly. Just be seen with him."

Y/N sat back, tapping her fork against her plate. "Okay, why should I?"

Grinning, Henri used his fork to scoop everything into a pile on his plate. "Because, if you keep up with your partying lifestyle, we're cutting you off."

She said nothing. Throwing her fork down, she pushed her chair back and stormed off.

That was the thing with Y/N. She didn’t care for propriety or her image. She did what she wanted, without much thought of how it made the royal family of Monaco. She was the weekly scandal in the newspaper, the wild child.

Henri’s head fell into his hands.

For the next week, while Charles was away from Monaco at another race, Henri set everything up. He booked out a restaurant for them, picked out something for his sister to wear and prepared her for her date with a script. Henri was controlling everything. He had every move planned out and had Y/N run through it with him several times.

He was a complete control freak.

For the date, Henri gave his sister a set of rules. Charles was his friend, after all, and this was a PR stunt. Anything he could do to prevent Y/N from embarrassing the royal family any further.

That was how she found herself in an empty restaurant, an almost empty glass of wine in front of her. Charles Leclerc hadn’t arrived at the restaurant yet; fashionably late, Y/N assumed. She was five minutes away from leaving.

But then he walked in. It was not possible for this man to look bad, Y/N realised as he strode towards her. His outfit was simple, a white shirt, buttoned almost to the top (just revealing a bit of chest) and a pair of black trousers. His hair had that usual fluff, that he seemed to achieve effortlessly.

Y/N had seen pictures of him online since his career began. He always looked good, so it was no surprise he did now.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said as he sat in the seat opposite her.

As if to prove a point, the princess finished her drink and placed her glass down. There was a flash to her left, a camera going off. But she didn't care - Henri could put out the fire he created.

Henri had given her a script, but Y/N wasn't going to follow it. That was boring. "Your brother is in F2, right?" Asked Y/N as food was brought over to them (Henri had decided what they were going to eat when he booked out the restaurant, arranging the food to be brought over as soon as Charles arrived).

Charles looked at her, clearly confused. "Um, yes," he answered. "He's with the Ferrari Drivers Academy," he said and took a sip of his own drink. "What is it that you do?"

She snorted. She hasn't meant to snort, but she couldn't help it. "I'm a princess, what do you think I do?"

But it wasn't clear. To Charles, it seemed like all she did was party. According to her brother, all she did was party. So Charles couldn't be blamed to think that.

He didn't answer her. This dinner wasn't going too well. That much was clear to everyone.

Letting out a sigh, Y/N sat back in her seat. "We need to make this look good," she said, glancing to her left. At the paparazzi not quite hidden in a bush outside of the restaurant. "You know what the news articles will be, right? 'Monaco Royalty... something something else."

Charles thought for a moment. The restaurant wasn't the right setting, this was clear.

So, he finished his drink and looked across the table, at the princess sat opposite him. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Fuck yeah Y/N wanted to get out of here. She grabbed her coat and, together, she and Charles walked out of the restaurant. A crowd of paparazzi followed them as they made their way to Charles's Ferrari SF90 Stradale.

It was a beautiful car, one Henri had wanted for the longest time. He he was going to flip his lid once he learnt that Y/N had been inside of it.

The paparazzi continued taking pictures of them as they drove off. "Where are we going?" She asked as he drove her through the streets of Monaco.

Y/N and Charles found themselves in a bar, three drinks deep. They talked casually, more like acquaintances than anything else.

Nothing happened in the bar, they just got to know each other a little better, without the awkward conversation of a formal dinner. Y/N found out about his love for music and he learnt that she was more than a just a party girl.

The next morning Y/N woke up in one of the many guest rooms with a pounding headache. She didn't remember getting back to the palace and was still in her dress from the night before. "Shit," she groaned, the light shining through her windows hurting her eyes.

She sat up and ran her hands through her knotted hair. Painkillers. She needed painkillers and she needed them now.

With no clothes to change into, she searched through the drawers for the much needed painkillers. And when she didn't find any, she made her way to her brothers office. "Henri," she sang as she pushed her way inside. And then she was leaning against the door, holding his head.

"I did it, I went on a date with Charles Leclerc."

"Well done," Henri said as he sat back in his chair. "He's taking you to Canada next week, so pack warm," he said and went back to his work.

Y/N glared at her brother and stormed off, making her way back to bed.

***

Canada. The only reason Y/N agreed to go was to see Fernando Alonso. She was there as Charles Leclerc's guest, but she didn't care. She ran straight to the Aston Martin garage, ran straight over to Fernando.

The Spaniard was surprised to see her, that much was clear. "What're you doing here?" He asked as she threw her arms around him.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat. "I'm here as Charles's guest," she answered.

Fernando's eyes went wide. "Really?" He asked, his brows furrowing.

"I know," she answered.

It really was a surprise. Fernando had never even seen the princess of Monaco so much as interact with the Monégasque driver. He knew Prince Henri was a fan, but he didn't know Y/N was. So, he asked about it.

She didn't want to lie to Fernando. But she had to seel it. For the sake of the tabloids, she had to sell it. "Well, we met at the Grand Prix, hit it off, and the next thing I knew, we were going to dinner together."

"Dinner together? Wow," said Fernando. "So, do you want me to go easy on him out there?"

Grinning, she shook her head. "You do what you need to do to bring home a win for us Aston Martin fans," she said.

They said their goodbyes and Y/N made her way to the Ferrari garage.

It wasn't as if she and Charles knew each other; they'd drunkenly discussed things, but that was it. But now, she was playing the girlfriend, tucked into his side as he kept his arm wrapped around her. Before the race he held her close and she tried her best not to look uncomfortable. Play the part. All she had to do was play the part.

During the race she stayed in the Ferrari garage, watching alongside Charles's brother. Y/N had met Arthur before, she just couldn't remember where.

"So you're dating my brother?" Asked Arthur as they watched the race.

Y/N kept her eyes fixed on the screen and nodded her head.

"How did that happen?"

She just pretended not to hear him.

This went on and on, the pair going on the odd date in random countries and Y/N joining him at races. But they were putting on a performance around each other, trying to play that part. They weren't being themselves and, therefore, not getting to know each other.

She'd joined Charles in Silverstone. They'd held hands as they walked through the paddock, smiling and waving at cheering fans. Their relationship was public knowledge now and, first the first time in the last four years, she wasn't in the tabloids for a bad reason.

Henri had arranged a date in Monaco for the pair once they got back from the British Grand Prix. They flew back with Pierre Gasly, an old friend of Charles. Y/N had only met Pierre earlier that year, in Monaco when her brother had introduced them.

Pierre was good fun for the flight home. But, by the time they got there, Y/N was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and shut her eyes. Looking at Charles, their was no doubt that he was just as tired as she was; he was the athlete after all.

As he drove, he blinked continuously and rapidly, his tiredness evident. Her apartment was just around the corner, she realised as they were stuck in traffic. It wouldn't be the worst thing if they blew off the dinner, right?

"I live near here," she said, looking at him.

Charles blinked as he looked at the stationary cars in front of him. "Am I not taking you to dinner?" He asked, somewhat surprised.

"Well, I was thinking we could go back to my apartment and eat some pizza," she said.

"But what do we have to gain from that?"

That was right, everything they were doing had an objective. Everything they were doing had a purpose. Having dinner in her apartment, where there were no cameras to watch them, had no purpose.

"We wouldn't die on the road from you being so tired if we went back to mine."

Charles realised she had a point. When the traffic began moving, he took her directions and drover to her apartment. They made their way inside, practically collapsing on the couch.

"Sorry for the state of it," Y/N muttered as Charles sat on the sofa beside her.

Her apartment really was a mess. Clothes, dirty dishes, pizza boxes everywhere. It wasn't very royal of her. "Don't worry about it," he said quietly as Y/N gathered up the dishes and placed them on the counter in the adjacent kitchen.

Charles didn't want to ask, but he was wondering how the apartment of the Princess of Monaco was so disgusting. He hadn't even realised she had an apartment of her own, assumed she just lived at the palace.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Asked Y/N as soon as she had ordered the cheese and pepperoni pizzas. It was a safe choice, considering she didn't know what Charles wanted. "I've got beers, wine, spirits, anything you want."

She didn't hide her surprise when Charles requested a beer. "I thought you were all... fancy and stuff," she said as she handed him the opened bottle.

"The princess of Monaco is passing me a beer and she thinks I'm fancy," he said with a laugh.

But he was undeniably tired. His laugh turned into a yawn and Y/N turned on the television. They watched in silence as they waited for the pizza to arrive.

"I didn't think you'd be allowed to eat pizza," said Y/N as she checked her phone, checked where abouts the delivery driver was. Just a few minutes away. "You know, considering you're an athlete."

"I won't tell my trainer if you won't," he answered.

Just a few minutes later and Y/N was running to get the pizza. She didn't have to worry about disguising herself, running down to the lobby of the apartment in her comfiest pyjamas. She wasn't like her brother, where he was always prim and proper; she hid in plain sight.

When she came back up with the pizzas, Charles was already snoring lightly on the sofa. Y/N would have left him to sleep, left him on the sofa, but he hadn't eaten since his race. As soon as he'd eaten something, she'd let him go to sleep.

So, she gently woke him, placing one of the pizza boxes in front of him.

Again, they were in silence as they ate. But the food was giving them some sort of strength and energy and, by the time they were finished, neither were quite ready to go to sleep.

So, they talked. They talked and talked, properly getting to know each other. Charles told her stories of his karting days, of his friendship with those on the grid. Y/N told him about her childhood as a princess and her friendship with Fernando Alonso. She didn't get into the subject of her partying habit, not when she realised she didn't miss it.

"No way," Y/N scoffed, sipping her beer.

Charles laughed as he nodded his head. "Seriously. I woke up shouting 'box box'!" He insisted.

She let out a laugh of her own. "Looks like I'll need to have words with the strategists."

Their evening continued much in this fashion. She hadn't realised he was an artist, not until he showed her some music that he hadn't yet released. He was a talented pianist, and Y/N couldn't stop herself from calling him a tortured artist.

There was no way she was going to let him sleep on the sofa. That would be like letting the Queen of England sleep in the dog house. So, she let Charles sleep in her bed, a wall of pillows keeping them separated.

***

There was a shift in their relationship dynamic after that. Things came easier to them. They were still faking it, but they weren't putting on a performance anymore. It was natural.

When they weren't together, she found herself texting him. Any time she had something to say, she texted him, without caring whether he had time to text her back yet. When Y/N wasn't at a grand prix, Charles was pictured laughing at his phone, and everybody knew who he was texting

CL16

what do you want your contact picture to be?

Please don't make it something embarrassing

Oh come on, Charles

I doubt there are any embarrassing pictures of you

okay i take it back

oh god

look at this little guy

you were so cute

what happened?

Hey!

I'm still cute!

The ladies love me

sure they do, sunshine

She found herself sending him anything and everything that made her laugh. Whether they knew of this shift, it wasn't clear.

But Henri certainly did.

The next part of this story takes place during the Belgian Grand Prix. Y/N hadn't attended. She'd been to the last few and, for once, her brother wanted to spend time with her.

"I'm impressed," Henri said as they sat on the balcony, tea in front of them. "You're selling this whole relationship really well."

But his sister wasn't listening. Instead, she was giggling down at her phone as she texted. "Y/N," Henri prompted and she looked up from the phone. "Can you put it down? I'm trying to have a conversation with you."

Reluctantly, Y/N put her phone on the table. "What were you saying, Hen?" She asked and picked up her little tea cup. The rim was decorated with pink, yellow and purple flowers.

"I was saying that you've really made this relationship with Charles look real. If I didn't know better, I really would think you were dating," said Henri. He straightened his posture and sipped his tea. "What is he doing during summer break?"

She shrugged her shoulders. Summer break was something they'd only briefly talked about, while Y/N was in his apartment, trying out his sim rig (spoiler alert, she was fucking terrible at sim racing. But it was still good fun, pretending to be her pretend boyfriend). He'd invited her on his yacht by literally saying, "join me on my yacht during summer?"

It was an invitation Y/N couldn't turn down, so she just said, "sure."

Henri continued. "Why don't you invite him to the palace for dinner?"

That was too much of a step into real relationship territory. Immediately she shook her head. "You do know that he isn't actually my boyfriend, right?" She pressed, placing her teacup back down onto the saucer.

Henri waved her off. "I know, I know," he said. "It would just be nice, you know?"

Suddenly Y/N felt a little sick. This was skidding way too far into relationship territory. Fake boyfriends didn't have dinner with her family, fake boyfriends didn't take him to her apartment just because he could.

The next time she saw Charles, Y/N was on his yacht. She laid in the sun, arm across her stomach and her eyes shut. It was lovely, so fucking lovely.

Charles sat beside her, passing her a drink. "Thank you, Charlie," she said with a smile as she sat up. "Best fake boyfriend ever." He patted her knee and stayed at beside her as the yacht gently moved on the water.

They spoke and, as they spoke, Y/N realised they never spoke about how fake their relationship was. In fact, Charles wasn't acting as though their relationship was fake. Even as they walked to his apartment, through the building and away from prying eyes, he still held her hand.

When she sat on his yacht, talking to him about whatever, he kept his hand on her knee.

As they day got later, the two began drinking. "To us," He called and tapped his glass against Y/N.

"To us," Y/N repeated and drank her drink. They slept on the yacht that night, with Y/N changing from her swim wear into something a little warmer as the sun disappeared.

They ate together, drank together, and just spent time together. It was nice, giggling and leaning on each other. Charles just loved spending time with her, it seemed. He gave her his hoodie when she shivered and, when that wasn't enough, he tucked her into his side.

They were both getting tired and were both ready to go to bed. Y/N glanced up at him from her place against his side. That was when he leaned down to kiss her.

Y/N stood up immediately. "Woah, what the fuck?" She cried as she jumped away from him. "Charles, what the hell are you doing?"

"I... Just thought..."

"Well you thought wrong!"

Y/N stormed off, heading to the bedroom. She set up the bed, placing the cushions between them. They'd slept in the same bed several times since that very first time in her apartment, but hadn't since.

The next day, she got Charles to take to back to the marina. Whether paparazzi saw them or not, she didn't care as she stormed away from him without so much as a goodbye.

OFF THE RAILS

Just when we thought things were looking up for the Monégasque Princess, it seems she is, once again, off the rails.

Princess Y/N has spent the last few months seemingly dating Formula One driver, Charles Leclerc. In this time, it appeared that the princess had halted her wild ways. The clubs she so often frequented were quiet without her presence.

But, after a rocky night on his luxury yacht, the couple appeared to go their separate ways. The Princess was seen storming away from the yacht on Monday morning.

Fans had been hoping that this was just a little spat between the popular couple, but after the Princess was spotted partying in Monaco just the night previous, fans soon lost hope.

She'd done so well staying in the medias good books for the last few months. But, ever since that night on the yacht, Y/N needed to get out. She needed to get out and have a wild night.

She'd never been a relationship person. When Charles had gone to kiss her, she'd been terrified. Why be in a relationship person when every relationship you've had was somebody trying to screw you over?

Because she had loved every minute with Charles. Every fucking minute. For once it felt like she wasn't being used, and they weren't even in a relationship. But Y/N couldn't see a future with him, not one where at least one of them didn't get hurt.

So, she ran away from it. She ran from him and her feelings, ran back into the embrace of the bottle. She partied the night away without caring who saw it.

Of course Charles saw it. It was the first thing he saw when he opened any form of social media. Her face plastered across his screen. Her in a low cut dress that perfectly showed off her figure. He sucked in a breath. She was meant to be his girl, and she didn't want him.

Even though they weren't together anymore, Y/N did stop with the partying. She calmed down immensely, no longer appearing in the tabloids. No longer appearing anywhere, actually.

Charles tried his best to forget about her. He didn't sleep around, he just put all of his energy into his work. He took sponsorship deals, did photoshoots and spent all of his time training. All to get Y/N out of his head.

Well, it didn't work. Charles couldn't forget about her. It was taking everything in him not to go to her apartment and tell her how he had fallen for her while they were supposed to be pretending to date.

Charles messaged Henri, asked how Y/N was doing, but Henri didn't seem to know.

That was because she hadn't been seen outside of her apartment in weeks.

When Henri told Charles, he knew he had to do something.

After attending the Italian Grand Prix alone, Charles made his way to Y/N's apartment. He had all of his things, having not made his way back to his own apartment.

When he knocked on her door, there was a moment before anything happened. He listened out, listening as she got off of the couch with a groan and walked over to the door.

The girl that answered the door was the girl that Charles was in love with, but she was hard to recognise. Hair a mess, bags under her eyes, wearing clothes that hadn't been washed in days.

When she pulled open the door, her face dropped. "Oh," she muttered, leaning against the door, not letting him see the mess inside. "What are you doing here?"

"Your brother told me you're not doing good."

"So?"

She was so quick to shut him down, to try and get him away from her apartment.

But, Charles pushed on. "So, I came to check on you. I'm worried about you."

Finally, she pushed open the door and allowed him inside.

The apartment was a state. Trash everywhere, dirty clothes about the floor, all of her dishes used and piled up around the apartment. There was half eaten food that was definitely rotting.

"Shit, Y/N," said Charles as she pushed the door shut.

She glared and threw herself back down onto the sofa. "Oh, fuck off," she said.

Charles sat on the end of the couch. It was the only place in the apartment that filthy. "I just want to help you," he said and began picking up the clothes on her floor.

And then Y/N sat up, causing Charles to stop what he was doing. "Why? Our entire relationship was fake, so why do you care?" She spat.

"Because." Charles stood up a little straighter, dropping her clothes into a little pile. "Because I love you. I know we were only fake dating, but it felt so real! And I realised that I actually do love you! I want to date you for real! I want to be the best real boyfriend ever, not the best fake boyfriend ever!" He exclaimed. "I don't know why you're so opposed to the idea. Those dates we went one, the ones after that first night in your apartment, they were amazing. I wouldn't have invited you to my yacht if I didn't seriously like you."

Y/N scoffed sarcastically. "Sure you do, Charles. Sure you, a world famous Formula One driver who can have anybody he wants, wants me, the troubled spare, the princess that nobody wants." She said it quietly, picking at her nails.

He leaned down in front of her, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it. "I do. I really do want to be with you. Princess Y/N of Monaco, I want to take you on dates and I want you to join me at races. I want to show you off in the paddock and I want to take you on my yacht, kissing you with your permission. I want you, Y/N."

But the way she looked at him, she looked ready to cry. "I can't do heartbreak," she said and pulled her hand away from his. "Not with you, Charles. I can't handle you breaking my heart," she said and stood up.

Charles suddenly pulled her close. "I won't break your heart," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. "Now, go take a shower. I'll sort out... all of this."

Y/N did just that. She turned on the water and hopped into the shower as Charles picked up the rubbish. Mainly empty wrappers and bottles of soft drinks. There were plenty of pizza boxes that he shoved behind the bin, just for the time being. After that, Charles picked up her clothes from the floor. He shoved what he could into her washing machine and turned it on, leaving to pick up the plates.

When Y/N hopped out of the shower, the apartment wasn't clean. But it was better. The floor was now visible. As Charles cleared up the space between the couch and the television, Y/N set about washing the dishes.

"Pizza?" Charles offered as he walked over with some half full glasses and cups.

But Y/N shook her head as she scrubbed a bowl that was once full of cereal. "You know, for the first time in a while, I'm not feeling like pizza."

"We'll get you something better, then," Charles said and set about ordering food.

They sat on the couch, Y/N in the last of her clean clothes, tucked into his side. "If we're gonna try this, we'll need to go on proper dates," she muttered, her head against his chest. "And, eventually, you'll need to come and have dinner with my family."

Charles let out a laugh. "Relax, chérie, we're gonna take it one step at a time."

One step at a time.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader smut #charles leclerc x you #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #cl16 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader

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moonsgemini · 5 months

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cinnamon girl - rafe cameron

summary: hating rafe cameron was easy to do when you were both teenagers, but after years a part and time spent thinking about one another one thing leads to another. Secret rendezvous between kook prince and kook princess ensue, finding any spare minute to be with each other without the judgey eyes of outer banks.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, fem reader, she/her, p in v, praise kink, semi public sex (a bunch of people are downstairs), fingering, oral f receiving, dirty talk, sneaking around, secret relationship, cussing, alcohol, enemies to lovers kinda

wc: 3.5k

an: another smutty smut. I have had this in my drafts for a bit & I just needed to finish it. It started out as being inspired by cinnamon girl by lana but I like don’t know what happened. also two posts in one day ???? who am I.

masterlist

In high school when y/n read Romeo and Juliet she fell in love with the tragic romance. She was astounded that love could be so intense and passionate. So much so that they were sneaking around behind everyone’s backs and the miscommunication ultimately leading to their deaths.

When she was sixteen she met Rafe Cameron. When her father introduced her to the tall blonde she didn’t think he would eventually be her Romeo. Especially not since he didn’t even smile or show the slightest interest in her. Their fathers had recently worked on a business deal together and had got along so well they wanted their families to get together.

She knew who he was and what he was like. Rumors run rampant on the figure eight. He constantly had snarky comments and remarks to make at her. Whether it be about her outfit, her likes, and especially about the boys she dated. y/n would be talking to Sarah about the boy she just went on a date with and Rafe would butt in with his two cents. He was a year older than her and he always made sure to act like he knew better because he was older.

“Fabian? You do know he like has dated half the cheer and volleyball teams,” Rafe scoffed as he stood in front of her and Sarah who were sat on the pool chairs outside. He had overheard y/n talking about the new guy she was seeing and Rafe couldn’t believe who the guy was. He also couldn’t believe she was dating at all.

Y/n looked at him with a glare, “I don’t remember asking for your input.”

“You could really use it though. Seems like you’re pretty fucking clueless at the fact that you’re a lot better than that asshole,” He rolled his eyes annoyed at the fact she couldn’t see how this escapade will end in heart break. He was only looking out for her so he doesn’t understand why she was so annoyed.

She chuckled bitterly, “Yeah like you care, besides I can find out for myself Rafe. I don’t need you telling me what’s good for me or not.”

Rafe rolled his eye because to him he did know what was good for her and Fabian was not. “Well when he ends up hurting you I’ll be ready to tell you I told you so,” He smirked taking a sip of his beer and walking away.

Sarah scoffed muttering, “Hate him.”

Y/n sighed watching him walk away and talk to her dad, “Couldn’t agree with you more.”

The first few years she knew Rafe she hated him. As much as you could hate him. He had always been extremely handsome, something she definitely noticed, and as he got older he became even hotter. In front of her parents he was charming and they interpreted his cocky demeanor as confidence. Whenever she complained about the Cameron boy being a prick they said they liked that Rafe knew what he wanted and always went for it, something that y/n could learn from him.

After she went away to college these family dinners became much smaller with only the parents and younger siblings. The kids having grown up and gone their own ways. Rafe was always on the mainland taking care of his dad’s business. Sarah had gone off to college so it was practically an empty nest. Occasionally during holiday breaks Sarah and y/n would join them for game night or dinner but Rafe still wasn’t around much.

She couldn’t lie and say he didn’t swim in her thoughts every now and then. Okay maybe more often then she’d like. Especially when he’d post on instagram and his bright smile would infect her mind on the nights she couldn’t fall asleep. She wondered if he ever thought about her but she doubted it since they never liked each other.

Rafe thought about her every day. Whenever he’d see her dad he’d find a way to bring her into conversation. He knew she was coming back soon and he made a note in his calendar to free his schedule on family dinner day because he wanted to see her. He needed to see her. Even if she probably didn’t want to see him because he remembers her hatred for him when they were teenagers. It makes a smirk appear on his lips as he thought about y/n rolling her eyes and sending witty comebacks his way.

It was winter break of her junior year of college when she made if back to the outer banks.

Y/n was surprised to see him drinking a glass of scotch with her dad and Ward as she walked downstairs. Her family was hosting dinner that time. Her first thought when she spotted hime was person he was even more handsome. His boyish look almost completely gone now that he was a man. She noticed he had been working out because his chest and shoulders seemed broader. Could have even gotten taller?

“Hey there she is,” Ward said as she made it all the way down the steps.

She smiled politely and joked, “Here I am, hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

Rafe smirked taking a sip from his glass. After Ward asked her more questions about college and the internship she was starting on the mainland that following summer. She could feel Rafe’s eyes on her as she talked to his dad. Seeing him had felt different that time. There was something different in the air.

During dinner they both stole glances at each other. Sometimes when she’d catch him staring at her he wouldn’t look away. Locking his eyes with her smirking and sipping on his second glass of scotch. His long fingers wrapped around the glass grabbed her attention. She watched his adams apple bob as he swallowed. No guys she knew in college drank scotch, because none of them were men like him.

He couldn’t believe how much more beautiful she had gotten in the last three years. She was a woman now and she held herself with so much more confidence than when she was seventeen. Rafe liked that.

“Oh honey give Rafe a tour of the new wine cellar. It is so magnificent our architect is amazing, maybe you’ll like him for a new Cameron employee,” Y/n’s mom said to the young adults who had been eye fucking for the last forty minutes. Y/n’s mom had been feeling her second glass of wine now which led to her being all giddy and generous. It’s always what her mom did. So whenever they went to charity events her mom just needed a glass of wine to sign a check for $10,000.

She was also an avid wine collector so for the last year they had been building a wine cellar under the house. It turned out beautiful. All wood and the lighting was moody. There were racks of wines all around the room and a few in the middle creating ailse. There were also a few big wooden support beams.

“Sure mom. Follow me,” Y/n said nodding her head towards the back. He smirked standing up and following her a few paces behind so he could stare at her back side. She led him out to the side of the house where the entrance was. If her mom knew what she ultimately helped happen she’d kill the both of them. Mostly for committing such a sin next to her most prized possessions.

Ten minutes into the tour Rafe had y/n pinned against one of those wooden beams. Her legs wrapped around his waist with her hands in his hair tugging whenever he’d hit that spot she could never reach on her own. No college guy she had been with was ever able to hit that spot either. Their breaths mixed together as their faces were close together, y/n’s skirt bunched around her waist. One of his hands was under her shirt tweaking her nipple.

His dick inside of her smoothly sliding in and out as he fucked her. Rafe knew he would never forget this moment. Never forget just how wet she had been, all the noises she was making sounding heavenly.

The first time was erotic. Years of built up sexual tension was finally getting released and it felt so good. His hands, his lips, his body felt better than she could ever have imagined.

When they were done Rafe kissed her, lips slotting naturally with her like they always belonged there. She was worried it was a one time thing but he wasn’t acting like it. That bubble of anxiety in her chest popping as he continued to be sweet to her. He had slowly pulled out and set her down gently. Tugging her skirt back down and helping her step into her panties he had tugged off in a frenzy. He fixed himself as she fixed her hair and makeup.

“That’s not the last time that’s gonna happen,” He said breaking the silence, “I like you too much to let you go.”

Since the first night they hooked up they have been sneaking around behind their families backs seeing each other. Rafe flew and road tripped to her apartment more times that winter and spring than he can count. When she came back for the summer he was practically living at her house. He’d sneak in at night like they were teenagers and he’d sleep over or stay up talking with her until she fell asleep then he’d sneak out. Or sometimes (a lot of times) they’d be doing something else that involved rafe’s mouth on her.

When y/n got her internship he’d meet her for lunch. They’d hangout in secluded areas on the beach and whenever they wanted to have a nice date night they’d stay a few cities over for the weekend to be alone and be a couple in public. For her birthday Rafe took her to the Amalfi coast for a few days where they spent most of the time on a boat, in a pool, or in bed having amazing sex. Y/n told her parents she was going to the lake for the weekend where she’d barely have service. Somehow they believed it.

They kept it a secret not because their families would be upset. It’s the opposite actually, they’d be too excited. Then there would be all this pressure on their relationship. The mom’s and Ward would be urging Rafe to propose because their families merging would make them look incredibly good and powerful in the developing industry. They’d want a huge wedding with a bunch of people they don’t know. There’d start to be talk about grand babies. All of figure eight would be talking about the kook prince and princess dating and on their way to live off their trusts. It would just be too much.

It was the last dinner party of the summer and Y/n was giddy. She hadn’t seen Rafe in two weeks because he had gone away on a business trip with his dad and then she had gone on to see her grandparents in New York. It was the most time they had spent a part in the last four months.

Tonight would be the last night they see each other for another couple weeks while y/n moves into her senior year apartment and settles into school. Rafe knew how important school was to her so he wanted to give her space to settle which she was grateful for because pre law was not easy. It would also be too suspicious if he randomly showed up to help while her parents are there.

This was a big dinner party so it was perfect. Y/n’s parents were hosting so it was all perfect. Every big family on Figure Eight, even the ones who only summer there, was at her house. The house was filled with many distractions since her mother also loved collecting art. No one would see them sneak upstairs to her room, especially with all the wine that’s being consumed.

Rafe had been dreaming about touching her since he last saw her. Oh and when he saw her he didn’t even waste a moment. As soon as he saw an opportunity to drag her upstairs to her bedroom he did. It was when appetizers were brought out and everyone had gathered outside. Y/n smirked the whole time knowing he wanted her as bad as she wanted him. Her short dress definitely did the job it was supposed to when she spotted his hard on when he first grabbed her.

His eagerness showing when he practically slammed her against the inside of the bedroom door. His lips on hers with fervor. They moved expertly against each other. Immediately finding their rhythm, no matter how many times they have each other it’s never enough.

His hands sliding down her waist and slowly going under her sundress. That’s when he feels nothing. She wasn’t wearing any panties. He instantly got harder and groaned into her mouth.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” He mumbled as he began trailing kisses down her neck.

Her hands tugged at his hair, “I missed you Rafey,” she whined not even feeling the slightest bit embarrassed about her eagerness. She had missed him so much.

He began walking her towards the bed. His lips still latching onto any exposed skin on her chest. They kicked their shoes off in the process, Rafe undid a few more buttons of his shirt. His tanned broad chest making her breathing uneven. When her knees hit the end of the bed she sat back crawling backwards towards the pillows. He followed her his knees spreading her legs.

“I missed you baby,” He gently cupped her face and stroked her cheek softly, “I can’t wait to make you cum.”

The soft gesture with the dirty words made her cheeks feel hot. That devilish smirk appearing on Rafe’s face like he knew that would happen. And that’s because he did know. Rafe knew her body and he knows just what to do to make her squirm. He looked too hot for her to even care how dirty he sounded. Sometimes she’d shy away but other times it made her putty in his hands. Y/n reached forward kissing him not so gently. They’d have time for the lovey dovey stuff later.

He began kissing down her body. Her chin then her neck, paying attention to that spot that made her hips jerk up for relief. His hand were gliding up her legs pushing her dress up around her waist in the process.

Rafe kissed her shoulders as he pushed her straps down in a teasing manor. He kissed her collarbones then her chest. Finally moving to her stomach and her pelvic bone. Oh had he missed this. His hands moved to her knees spreading her legs wider.

Y/n’s hands were in his hair already tugging. Giving an even harder tug when he reach forward giving her a teasing lick. She had to cover her mouth with one hand to not be loud.

Rafe wanted to tease her but he just couldn’t resist. He dove right in. His tongue finding her clit immediately, moving his tongue in circles. He alternated between that and licking down her slit. Tongue teasing her entrance. It was all so euphoric.

Her back arched off her bed. Y/n tried her best to keep quiet but a few moans slipped out. She hoped the chatter and music playing downstairs was enough to cover her noises. Rafe hummed against her core making the feeling even more intense.

“Oh god Rafey,” She sighed dreamily, “I missed your mouth. Know just what to do.”

He lives for the praise. It boosted his ego and encouraged him to do better and outdo himself. Hearing her breathy wins and moans muffled by her own hand were making him impossibly hard.

As he sucked and licked her clit he reached around and abruptly slipped a finger into her wet center. Her thighs practically suffocating him as he moved in and out of her touching that perfect spot inside of her. He always made her cum and he always did it fast. Before she met Rafe she had only ever finished with her own hand or vibrator.

“I’m gonna cum!” She whisper shouted.

Rafe moaned, “Cum for me baby.”

It felt like electricity was going through her body as she came. His movements relentless until he knew she was satisfied. He began to slow down as she came down, leaving her with one final lick. He kissed the inside of her thighs softly before crawling up to her again. She pulled him forward needing his lips on hers. She moaned at her taste on his tongue.

“I need to be inside you,” Rafe groaned as he felt one of her hands reach down and palm him through his pants.

“Please fuck me,” She batted her eyelashes at him knowing it always got her what she wanted.

He groaned again before sitting back on his feet so he can unbutton the rest of his shirt. Y/n sat up pulling her dress all the way off. Rafe made quick work of his pants pulling them down his legs.

His member slapped against his stomach, her mouth watering at the sight. Rafe was created with care, everything about him was perfect to her. He grabbed his length pumping it a few times before he rubbed his tip through her folds. Spreading her wetness around, his eyes rolled back at the feeling.

“Oh please please put it in,” She whined, “I need you so bad Rafey.”

“Baby your wish is my command,” He smirked and thrusted into her slowly pushing in inch by inch.

“Yes yes yes yes,” She chanted in pure bliss. Y/n didn’t care how desperate she sounded.

Rafe sighed as he began moving slowly. She was so tight and warm, even better than he remembered. He knew he wasn’t going to last long but he would make sure she came again before he did at all. He hit that spot inside of her that made her eye’s roll back and toes curl.

“Taking me so good my love,” Rafe encouraged as he picked up speed.

He grabbed one of her boobs and brushed his thumb over her hardened nipple. He leaned down and placed the other one in his mouth sucking and licking gently. All of the stimulation had her body feeling like it was on fire. He released it with a pop and went back to capture her lips in his. Y/n’a hands gripped his hair and clawed his back

“I’m gonna cum babe,” She moaned, “Yes right there, oh oh god.”

“Yeah baby cum for me,” He sighed, “Fuck I’m gonna cum too.”

Her eyes rolled back at his words, “Please cum in me, fill me up please please,” she blubbered feeling overwhelmed by the orgasm that was about to take over her body. The sounds of his deck sliding in and out of her wet pussy made him reach the edge. Everything about her was so sexy from the noises she made to the way she looked sprawled out below him.

Her words made him pick up his pace pounding into her. He felt her clench around him knowing she was coming. She moaned and scratched his back as she came. Biting her lip to not let anymore loud noises slip out of her. He came inside of her with a groan. Rafe continued to pump in and out of her slowing down as he came down from his high.

He swore he could cum again just looking at her all fucked out. Her hair all over the place, lipstick smudged and probably all over his face.

After a few minutes of catching their breaths Rafe pulled out gently. A whine leaving her lips at the empty feeling. Rafe got up going to her bathroom to get a towel to clean her up. When he came back he dabbed her center cleaning up.

“I missed you so much Rafe,” Y/n said breaking the silence.

He leaned forward kissing her knee, “I missed you more my love.”

“You think anyone heard?”

He shrugged, “Don’t think so. If they did then oops.”

She laughed, “Don’t say that Rafe, then we will get caught.”

He smirked as he laid next to her again opening his arms as an invitation that she gladly took. Resting her head on his chest and he leg wrapped around his waist. One of his hands stroking her hair and the other rubbing up and down her body slowly feeling all her exposed skin.

“Lets lay a few minutes then get back to hearing my dad talk about business for hours,” Y/n said savoring the feeling of laying with him.

“I love you,” He kissed the crown of her head a few times.

She smiled, “I love you. Sneak over tonight?” She asked looking up at him hopefully.

“Read my mind,” He smirked.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader

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binsito · 7 months

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warning: usage of the words "good girl", "princess", unprotected sex, semi public sex, slight exhibitionism, jealous!hyunjin

hyunjin had enough of this damn cocktail party.

he knew it was the professional thing to do: show up, be cordial and be supportive of his beautiful girlfriend who had worked her ass off to be in the position she was in today.

he was proud of you, to say the least.

watching you sip an alcoholic beverage, with a smile on your face as you chatted away with a person standing in front you.

things were going fine, however the night turned sour when a guy you worked with could not make it any more obvious that he was hitting on you.

hyunjin didn't like that one bit.

especially not when he was standing right next to you, glaring at the dumbass in hopes he would get the hint and get lost.

was he also this brazen when hyunjin wasn't around?

did he always pester you or was the liquid courage making him ballsy?

hyunjin would be damned if he thought he was going to let this slip.

absolutely not.

and the guy was quick to notice that your drink was almost up, offering to get you another one from the bar.

you being the sweet coworker you were, felt it was rude to deny him so you gave him your drink order and he quickly made a beeline to the bartender.

hyunjin wanted to laugh in his face.

did he ever in a million years think he had a shot with you?

of course not!

you were hyunjin's and hyunjin was yours, end of story. hyunjin would never let you go without a fight, which he was convinced he'd prevail from.

god, he was absolutely sick of this fool. who did he even think he was? being so painfully bold in front of him, had he no shame?

frustration and rage was coursing through hyunjin's veins. he swore he wasn't one to get jealous and act out but this guy was going to be an exception.

you hadn't even being paying much attention, staring around at people mingling with your empty glass in hand when you felt hyunjin grab your arm and tug you through the crowd of people.

"hyune? where are we going?" you asked, following him without hesitation because maybe it was important.

sometimes he had moments where he needed to step out for some air if the room became too stuffy so you figured it was one of those instances.

but he didn't answer you, and he didn't step outside either.

instead he pulled you into the restroom, not even caring to lock the door behind him, pressing you into the sink and kissing you deeply as he took the glass from your fingers and set it down.

"h-hyune.. w-wait baby.. w-what's wrong?" you said between kisses, but you already had a feeling of what was boiling inside of him.

he shushed you as he kissed down your neck, squeezing your sides tightly, smiling to himself slightly because he knew that idiot could only dream of having you like this, and a dream could not do the real thing any justice to be quite honest.

"b-baby what if someone-"

at the moment, he didn't give much of a shit if someone heard, if someone wondered where you had run off to.

he flipped you over, you facing yourself in front of the mirror. you both already looked a little disheveled and it made you worry about stepping out there again later looking like a mess.

hyunjin fumbled with his pants, pulling his cock out over his slacks just enough. he bunched your dress up to your waist and moved your panties to the side, watching as a string of your arousal connected your cunt to the fabric.

"god, princess.. you're so wet for me.. you like being naughty huh?" he kissed the shell of your ear, nibbling on your lobe gently.

"we don't have much time to waste kay? look at me.. eyes on me." he instructed, nimble fingers rubbing you a bit while he stroked his cock, lining it up with your entrance

"h-hyune baby-" he quickly covered your mouth as he pressed his cockhead inside of you. you gripping the sink in hopes of somehow grounding yourself but you already felt so weak.

"shh shh.. just take it baby.. i know you can be good and take it.. eyes on me remember?"

you nodded, your eyes meeting his through the mirror, his gaze lustful as he pressed another inch inside of you.

fuck, you already felt so full of him, clenching around his length because the situation was turning you on more than you'd like to admit.

once he bottomed out, you arched your back, his hand still on your mouth to stifle your moans as he began to pound into you. his other hand came up to grab a fistful of your hair, gripping it tightly as he held your head back for him.

he wanted to make sure you saw him ruining you, that he was the one fucking you good. that piece of shit had nothing on him, he was the one who made your knees buckle, that could pull the prettiest moans from you, that got to kiss and squeeze every inch of your body.

"i'm gonna fuck you good but you have to promise to keep my cum tonight okay?" he grunted, you could only nod against his hand, trying so hard to keep your eyes open and not roll them to the back of your head.

"good girl.. that's right baby.." he breathed out.

you both could feel your orgasms approaching, hyunjin trying his best to hold you up while also trying to keep his own composure.

the chatter outside was thankfully suppressing the noise coming from you two but it wasn't very helpful in warning you when someone was nearby.

the door handle twisting and opening to reveal the guy who had been flirting with you. drink in his hand as his jaw dropped at the sight in front of him. seems he had been looking all over the place for you to continue his pathetic scheme and to hand you the liquor he oh so kindly had gotten you.

"close the door, can't you see we're fucking busy?" hyunjin growled out at him, not relenting his pace. you furrowing your eyebrows as you felt yourself start to cream around hyunjin's cock. it was too fucking much, you couldn't hold yourself back anymore.

he quickly closed the door and ran off.

hyunjin smirked, feeling his ego swell. stilling his hips to let his cum shoot deep inside you, not a drop would go to waste.

"remember.. you're keeping it all in okay? gonna fuck it deeper when we get home."

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

#just a silly thought i had...#binsito #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz hard thoughts #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader smut

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sir-kuroo · 8 months

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.—♡ 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄, 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 { K. KENMA }

KENMA accidentally walked in on you in the airplane lavatory; @mrskenmakozume: dedicated to you like before and as always

︶︶୨୧ 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 ⋮ pwp, semi-public sex, frotting, dry humping, penetration, slight dacryphilia, airplane sex xD (trust me with the outrageous places to have sex) 𖦹 @enchantedforest-network

It was a bad idea opening up the link Lev sent, Kenma thought. He never expected it would be a hentai game and his curious ass played it while on flight. Great. He knew he couldn’t take it any longer or he’d get his balls blue for real. Pulling his hoodie on, he rushed to the restroom, opening the first available cubicle.

You both froze as you were halfway from pulling your panties back up. Your pussy was fully exposed from his sight.

Fuck!

He immediately turned around and was about to open the door when you stopped him, “Don’t! Don’t open yet!” You pleaded in embarrassment. “I’m not yet fully dressed some people outside might see me!”

Shit! He’s annoyed. Fucking annoyed. He’s already hard and you got him even harder. Just…Fuck!

“Hurry up.” He snapped. “You should’ve closed the door.”

“I did!” You rebutted.

Kenma glared at the door lock and flipped the switch. Some of the lights turned even brighter and the green sign from above turned to red. “This is how you lock it.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes! Did this person even realize that you’re the one humiliated here? The only thing he had was a pretty face, but what’s with the personality?

“Okay. I’m done.” You said, avoiding eye contact. He just saw you half-naked!

“We can’t go out together.” He leaned back to the wall, giving you space to make your way out of the restroom. Striding sidewards through the tight space, your ass grazed against his crotch. He tightly pinched his eyes close. He sure felt your shape through those tight leggings.

You were about to unlock the door when the plane wobbled. The toilet seat cover closed as you both struggled to keep your feet.

Ladies and gentlemen the fasten seatbelt sign is on. Please remain seated at all times.

Your body bumped on Kenma’s, throwing the both of you off balance, which had you stumbling right on his lap. Good thing he managed to sit on the covered toilet.

You both sighed as soon as it stopped quaking. However, your eyes widened when you felt his bulge poking against your ass. You looked back at him and he had that wide-eyed gaze and flushed face.

Now, you’re quits.

He’s quite the pretty boy though, bearing that cute and boyish features. You mentally slapped yourself! You shouldn’t be thinking this way towards the guy who just saw your privates and whose hard-on was poking your back.

You were about to stand up, when the plane seesawed and you fell hard back on his lap.

Fuck! Kenma took hold of your waist, keeping you in place so you won’t fall. This new position had his cock in between your crotch. Your soft cunt roughly rubbing against him. Your walls clenched with the friction as the plane kept on shaking while your hips matched the movement.

He's growing even bigger.

Kenma gritted his teeth and you bit your lip. It felt so good.

The turbulence ended yet no one’s making a move to stop and you just kept on squirming around him.

“W-we can’t do this!” You said, but your hips were grinding his length.

“Yes, we sh- we shouldn’t.” He said, but he’s doing nothing to move you away and you were both still hungrily rubbing against each other.

More! More! More!

He needed more! As long as he could still control himself, he better stop this now, right? That’s just sensible. He lifted you away from his lap, giving you a chance to run, however you pulled your leggings and panties down.

“A-Are you sure this is okay?” You asked with reddened face, taking his gesture differently.

His eyes were wide as he couldn’t believe what just happened. “I think so...”

He’s pretty sure that his fucking dick was now dominating his head.

He freed his cock from the opening of his pants. It wasn’t that difficult as he’s already full-pledged. Hastily, he put on a condom with agitated fingers. It’s better to be safe, though he had no intention of putting it inside you.

Guiding you on his lap again, your thighs sandwiched his cock and your bare pussy was rubbing his length. You rocked your hips, pressing your mounds further against his flesh to add a satisfying pressure against your clit, sliding and dragging the lips of your pussy on the length of his cock and coating it with your wetness. His hips met your rhythm and gradually increased it, until the plane teetered.

“Aaaah~” You moaned. You were both jolted! He accidentally slipped inside you!

Cabin crew prepare for landing.

Kenma wrapped his arms firm around your waist and you gripped on the side handle tightly. Your bodies were shifting together with every tilt of the plane. Both of you were no longer in control of your movements, yet it was very satiating. His cock was reaching the deepest and most pleasurable spots inside you, while the plane's brisk motions were giving him so much friction and it's getting him close to losing his mind.

You had to tightly latch onto each other with the intensity of the shaking. Tears started forming in the corners of your eyes. Kenma had his forehead pressed on your nape while you were holding his head, reaching a hand from behind. You both couldn't even manage to cover your groans and whimpers as the plane began its descent. Both of you were drowning in pleasurable friction caused by the sudden tilts and vibrations.

As the wheels of the aircraft touched the runway, his grip on your waist tightened even more and so was your hold on the side handle; the impact took you bouncing up and down raggedly and violently against his cock, getting the both of you to your destination, screaming and crying curses while you were being completely muffled by the engine’s noise.

You both trembled out of your orgasms, still throbbing at how intense it all felt and reeling in the pulses in your core.

Ladies and gentlemen we have now arrived at Galeão International Airport, Rio de Janeiro. Please remain seated until the fasten seatbelt sign is turned off. Current ground temperature is…

Your minds were empty as you caught your breaths, panting and limply swaying your heads. It was so good that your pussy and his cock felt like it’s burning hot in the right way. You both wanted more of it, but you had no energy left.

“Are you…Are you alright?” Kenma asked in an airy whisper.

You nodded your head silently.

“Can you walk?” Somehow, something inside him wanted to assist you outside but…

You blushed. There’s no other way or else you had to walk out together and people would be suspicious. You gave him another nod and stood from his lap, his now flaccid cock slipping out of you. You pulled your panties and leggings up and almost stumbled. Your knees felt like jelly.

“Walk closely to the wall.” He said gently.

“Alright, thank you.” You told him without looking back. You didn’t even get his name or whatever, but you sure would never forget his face.

Kenma watched as you walked out of the door.

Shit! What did he just do? First flight to a different continent and he fucked up. Literally.

Running a hand over his face, he let out a sigh. He hadn’t even asked for your name. All he knew was your whines were kinda’ cute…just like you. He blushed. What was he even thinking now? Did the plane ride rewire his brain?

Kenma went out of the restroom once he sensed that almost all of the passengers had already gone, though there’s a part of him that hoped you were still there. Even up to the baggage carousels, he sort of looked for you, but you were nowhere to be found anymore.

Anyway, what would he even do? Ask for your name and where you’re heading? He’s just here to visit Shoyo. That’s it. This would probably be one of the experiences he’d keep to the grave.

Finally picking his luggage up from the conveyor belt, he glanced around to search for his friend until the bright boy beamed at him. His name written in a white paper. “Ke-n-ma!”

Kenma smiled upon seeing him again after a long time. He looked toasted, geez.

“Shoyo,” he greeted back.

"Welcome to Rio!" Shoyo welcomed him happily. “Oh! I forgot to tell you.” He said with excitement. “This is Y/N! She’s the friend I was talking about to you. I’ll tour you two together. I actually booked you in the same hotel…”

The ginger head’s voice drowned as you and Kenma stared at each other, frozen and red-faced.

It looks like you were never done yet.

JOIN THE 🍷 𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄! Get tagged whenever I update ♡

⏝︶︶⏝︶ ୨୧ ︶⏝︶︶⏝

#kenma smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #kozume kenma smut #kenma x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #kozume kenma x reader #hq kenma #haikyuu kenma

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mypoisonedvine · 6 months

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𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 | ghostface!darren (pig) x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | he probably wasn't even invited to this party, because who would invite him? but he came anyways... just to torment you. far more than you could've imagined, in fact.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 2.5k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | NONCON DARK SMUT 18+ ONLY!!, public sex, degradation, pain kink, knife kink, a bit of predator/prey, blood kink, smoking, unprotected sex/implied risk of pregnancy, darren is kind of an incel lmao

It was a pretty traditional high school party— overcrowded, loud and sweaty, bad music and worse liquor— but at least the sea of costumes, ranging from scary to silly to sexy, added at least some new layer of interest to the whole thing.

You hadn’t tried very hard with your devil costume— more accurately an attempt at a ‘sexy devil’ costume— but you put on horns and heels with a tight red dress and nobody can really complain. You weren’t really here to get into the ‘spooky spirit’ or whatever anyways, just an excuse to drink and maybe chat with some people you’d been missing.

The person you ended up chatting to right in that moment, though, was exactly the last person you wanted to talk to.

You didn’t even know there was someone behind you until you felt him press up to your back, suddenly hovering right by you. “Want a drink?” he asked, shoving a cup towards you, but you were too busy nearly jumping out of your skin to care— you almost knocked the drink over, actually some of it did splash onto another partygoer, but she was too drunk to notice.

“Fuck!” you yelped, turning to see the gangly boy behind you. “Christ, Darren, do you have to always sneak up on a girl like that?”

He just smiled and tried to offer the drink to you again.

“M’already holding one,” you pointed out with a frown, “didn’t ya notice?”

“O-oh yeah,” he mumbled, lowering the cup finally. “Costume looks good.”

“Thanks,” you shrugged, though you suddenly felt the urge to tug down the bottom of your dress.

“You’re not worried what the boys are gonna think with you dressed like that?” he asked, and you glared at him as you shoved his shoulder.

“Don’t you think before you open your fuckin’ mouth?” you spat. “What are you, anyway?”

The black robes didn’t really tell you anything— not until he reached behind his head and pulled a Ghostface mask over his face.

“Oh,” you snorted, “not the most original, is it?”

“Don’t like t’movie?” he wondered as he pulled the mask back again.

“I mean, it’s pretty good,” you relented, “but—”

“You wanna fuck ‘im, don’t you?” he insisted suddenly with a lascivious grin.

“What?” you squinted.

“Ghostface,” he clarified, “you’re one of the girls who thinks he’s fit, yeah?”

“Why are you always such a creep?” you asked him with a grimace, but then you decided to change the topic quickly. “Kinda thought you’d be a pig or something,” you admitted, “with the nickname and all.”

“Nah, that’s stupid,” he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms— which made you notice the prop knife in his hand. It actually looked pretty good, shinier than most plastic costume knives.

Just then, Jimmy O’Doyle sauntered up beside you, slipping his arm around your shoulders. “Ay, little devil,” he greeted, flicking the red horns on your head as you smiled sheepishly.

He hardly acknowledged Darren, spare for a quick nod, but Darren was staring at Jimmy for a little too long before he looked at you again.

“Thought you said you didn’t want a boyfriend,” Darren said sharply, glowering a bit.

Jimmy scoffed and you shifted uncomfortably; Darren tended to be… what’s the word… desperate? Clingy? Overall bizarre? He certainly couldn’t take much of a hint.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you said first, though that didn’t really matter— you didn’t need any reason to reject Darren, outside of your natural self-preservation instinct. He actually wasn’t bad-looking, but it was hard to tell past those leering eyes and the uncomfortable smile. He wasn’t smiling now though… he looked quietly enraged, sipping pointedly on his drink as he glanced away for a moment.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Jimmy smirked at you, hardly waiting for your nod before disappearing back into the crowd.

Suddenly, as you felt Darren’s livid gaze from awkwardly close, you decided that you needed a little fresh air. And by that, you really meant a cigarette.

Not wanting to tell Darren that you were going outside for a smoke, you instead mumbled some excuse about going to the loo— somewhere he was just sane enough not to follow you to— and bumped through the crowd until you found a door out into the neighbourhood.

There was a slight drizzle still going outside— more of a misting, really— that made everything all foggy and grey, spare for the yellow-y glow of the streetlamps dotting the way. It wasn’t a full moon, as cool as that would be, but near to one… regardless, it wasn’t visible behind low, dark clouds, leaving the night starless and dreary. There wasn’t much to look at in the alley as you lit your cigarette and took slow drags from it, so as you stared blankly forward at brick walls with chipping whitewash, your mind wandered a bit. Nothing of great merit: upcoming assignments, the possibility of an afterparty, the lingering hope you could find a steamy hook-up for the night… you didn’t just put this outfit on for the pictures.

Before you could get too far into your imagination, you were startled by a distant sound, jumping slight as your head turned towards it— but it was just the dark alley, not much to see. You squinted, trying to make out movement in the shadows, but for quite a while you couldn’t see anything.

Only when you turned your head back forward with a shrug was there any sign of what you’d heard, just a shift in the corner of your eye. You looked at it again, and you hated to admit it, but your heart froze up for a second when that white face emerged from the darkness.

Of course, you gave your best unaffected scoff when you actually processed what you were looking at.

“Quit it, Darren,” you warned, willing your voice to sound stable as you shouted down the road towards him, “you’re not gonna scare me.”

You watched him move closer, stepping into the light so you could see him better, and tried to ignore the way the hairs on your neck stood up. If he knew he was getting to you, he’d just keep doing it; you rolled your eyes and took a drag through your cigarette to try to seem nonchalant… but you had to stop your hand from shaking just a bit. Only because it was chilly out, surely…

You thought it was a joke— a stupid joke, but still just a joke— until he dragged his knife along the brick wall as he stalked toward you. The sharp, high-pitched screech of metal against stone was unmistakable… and that was how you realised it was a real knife. A very sharp, very real knife; he’s going to actually kill me, you thought, just before you let out a primal and instinctive scream.

Turning on your heel, you ran as fast as you could. Each rapid pulse of your heart pumped adrenaline through your veins, and you felt so shaky that you worried the light night breeze would knock you over.

These were far from running shoes, though— they were pretty excruciating to just stand in, actually— and it was only a few blocks of a chase before you tripped. Yelping in pain, you tried to scramble up or even crawl forward… but just as you rolled over and winced from landing on your hip, you saw him stalking forward into the flickering light of a streetlamp.

He was probably just going to take the mask off and laugh at you, right? Reveal the whole thing was a silly prank and the knife was fake and that he just wanted to prove you were scared of him. Yes, that would be the most sane thing for him to do at that moment, even after being so not-sane by chasing you with a knife. Instead, as you tried to crawl back, he just tilted his masked head curiously at you, and with his free hand reached down and palmed at his groin. He was hard— you could see the outline of it through his costume, his hips rocking forward slightly into his palm as you heard a muffled hiss from his mouth.

He knelt down and grabbed your kicking legs, roughly yanking you closer and hovering above you menacingly. “C’mon and scream for me,” he ordered with a delighted purr, pulling his mask back, laughing when what came out of you was more of a wail or sob instead. “Louder, y’little whore—”

“Get off me!” you shrieked, trying to fight him away, whining as he laid down over you instead and licked your neck. You turned your head with a grimace, shuddering as his weight pinned you against the slightly-damp pavement.

“G’na show Pig how tight the little hole gets when you’re scared— aren’t ya, fuckin’ slut?”

“Be serious, Darren— s’not funny, get away from me!”

You struggled less when he flashed the knife; as little as you could, in fact you actually nearly froze as he teased you with it, running the tip down the front of your dress with just enough pressure to pop a few sequins off, making you whimper in terror. He laughed, though— a small, dark, chuckle. “Quiet now,” he noticed. “Don’t make a fuss, sweetheart.”

You had to bite your lip to hide a shout, though, when a gloved hand up slipped under your short dress, grabbing greedily at your lacy panties. He licked his teeth, bared by his grin, as he stared at you with those haunting eyes of his. “Wet, aren’tcha, girl?” he taunted— not that he’d be able to feel it through his black gloves, but past your own groaning you could almost hear it (though you tried not to).

“You’re such a creep!” you spat, though you tried to regulate your tone as you glanced at his knife again, held against you by one of his hands on your arm; maybe part of you still thought he would stop and admit it was a joke, but the darkness in his stare made you doubt that more and more. The gravity of the situation still hadn’t really set in yet— sure, you were coursing with fear and had goosebumps all over, but it didn’t totally feel real.

“Won’t take too long,” he promised with a sigh as he hastily tugged his costume out of the way, still pinning you down with one hand (if not as effectively). When he roughly yanked his cock out, proudly brandishing it between your legs as your eyes went wide… that’s when it felt real.

“Don’t,” you gasped instantly, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Don’t, Darren, please— you can’t—”

“Shh,” he hissed quickly, “s’good— gonna feel good, alright?”

He gasped loudly as he pushed inside you, eyes shutting tight before he dropped his head down onto your chest. “Fuck, girl— what’s a whore cunt so tight for?”

Not wasting any time, he pulled his hips back and roughly thrusted forward into you again, making you choke on your cry.

“S’for me, isn’t it?” he decided with a sick sort of grin. “Want Pig to feel good? Like t’squeeze the thick cock, don’t ya?”

“I— I fuckin’ hate you,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes tight, in disgusted disbelief that this was happening— that it was him inside you, holding you down. But you couldn’t forget it, not with him moaning and purring above you, mumbling stuttered praises… and the feeling of it, it was impossible to ignore, as much as you hoped to somehow. It was a deep stretch, each thrust making your chest tighten out of more than just fear.

“Mmf, fuck,” he grunted, holding onto you tighter— another reminder he still had that fucking knife. “Pretty— it’s a pretty thing… it’s warm inside…”

Grimacing, you hated the way your body responded to his lewd comments about it; your walls clenched on him slightly, you could tell by the way you felt even more sore inside than before.

He pressed the knife up against your neck, growling in amusement at your wince of fear. “Think Pig’s gonna slice you?”

“I… I don’t know,” you stammered out your answer, eventually.

“Waste of a pretty face, no?” he smirked, moving the knife up and caressing the side of your face with it— not that it could really be called a caress, all rigid and cold like that… “Say please.”

“Huh?”

“Say please,” he repeated, “beg me not to hurt you.”

“Already are,” you sneered at him, but he pressed the knife to your neck with a little more intention— a little more pressure, a wild look in his eyes suddenly— as he insisted again.

“Wanna hear you beg,” he spat. “Do it or Piggy might hurt you worse.”

“Please, please,” you whispered shakily, shutting your eyes. “Please don’t, Darren…”

You gasped sharply as he pressed the knife down just enough to draw a thin line of blood, only to pull the blade away and lick hungrily at the wound. Feeling dizzy and sick, you winced at the sting of his tongue lapping at your pierced skin, lips wrapping around and suckling as teeth dug painfully into your pulse.

He thrusted faster, recklessly so, and bit down on his lip as he breathed heavier. You were too focused on how painfully deep he was going to really process anything when he started to slow down— that is, you felt that he was slowing down, and didn’t think for a minute about why he was slowing down.

His loud, low groan gave it away; you snapped back to reality and looked up at him in a new kind of fear. “Fuck, Darren, did you just—?!” you whimpered, squirming harder as you realised what he’d done.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed you sharply, hissing as he grabbed a tight hold of your hip. “Stay fuckin’ still, girl— fuck, I’m still coming—”

You yelped and tried harder to fight him off, but he kept you pinned down easily, even forcing you into a rough and sloppy kiss.

He sighed into it after a second, relaxing on top of you until it was a little hard to breathe under his weight. You whined and tried to break away, but the hand with the knife still in it held your jaw, the cold metal pressing threateningly against your face.

Whimpering and blinking up at him, you met his icy gaze and he smiled proudly down at you. “Little devil, eh?” he smirked as he toyed with your horned headband, which had become quite dishevelled from all the running and struggling. “Your blood matches the outfit— poor whore, red all over…”

“Darren,” you choked, fighting a sob of disbelief as you felt him pull out of you with a hiss— a steady, sticky leak giving away how much he’d come. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Don’t be fussin’, girl, like I said,” he rolled his eyes, though he was still grinning wide. “Ready to go back to the party now? Or do you just want Pig to take y’home, sweetheart?”

#darren pig x reader #disco pigs #cillian murphy x reader #darren pig smut #darren pig dark!fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy dark!fic

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hxt1b · 3 months

Text

how much you own me

ex-boyfriend Gojo x reader

-> CW: ex-boyfriend Gojo, angsty, you both teach at jujutsu high, Gojo is an idiot, Geto is flirty but that is inconsequential [I just love him] Gojo is possessive and a bit whiney, fluffy near the end. MDNI, smut warning [hand jobs, fingering, finger sucking, it’s all kinda soft tbh, nipple sucking, penetration, a lot of kisses – so many kisses, bathroom sex, public sex, mention of form of protection {IUD} I apologize if I missed anything]

-> WC: 2.9k

-> Masterlist | Prompt List [send me requests!]

-> A/N: Okay so this is a little cliché, maybe not the best written, and totally self-indulgent. I wanted an ex-boyfriend Gojo begging you to take him back, and some make up(ish) sex and so I wrote it. I hope you guys like it. As usual please ignore any grammar that is incorrect, I tried my best.

"When I'm all by myself and the drink doesn't help. Take 'em down from the shelf and I'm reminded, I keep fighting wars in my head with the miles of regret 'cause I had every letter but now, I cant find the words to say."

– The Vamps

“Don’t walk away from me.” His voice was even, he never really yelled. That was one of the first things you’d liked about Gojo, his effortless calm. Everything was easy for him, so it was rare for him to be anything but calm. The only things that rattled Gojo were things he couldn’t control. Lack of control was not a state of being for Gojo Satoru.

“Watch me.” You replied turning away from him. He caught your wrist and pulled you back towards his chest.

“Stop.” He gritted out, his voice wasn’t as even anymore but he wasn’t yelling. He still thought he had some control. Jokes on him.

“Or what?” You asked, your tone taunting. Your head tilted to the side as you glared up at your ex. His pale blue eyes were hidden behind glasses, but this close you could see them narrow at you through the tinted glass.

You scoffed at him before yanking out of his hold.

“Leave me alone Gojo.”

Your footsteps echoed down the hall as you walked away from him. Your hands shook at your side. A couple of steps, and you’d be outside. Outside the school. Outside Gojo’s bubble. Out.

“I can’t.”

His words hit your back, piercing up your skin, and crawling over your mind. You saw red.

“You can’t?” You asked. Your steps halted just as you got to the door. “You fucking can’t!?” your voice rose as you spun to face him. He was still in the spot you’d left him.

“You broke up with me!” You yelled, “You stopped talking to me! Three months Gojo and now you wanna talk to me like that didn’t fucking happen. Well too bad, I don’t give a fuck about you anymore.”

That was a blatant lie. You cared a lot and seeing him was hard, him touching you was brutal. You needed to get out of this hallway. Away from him.

He said your name as you turned away from him a second time, a soft word floating in the hallway. Your blood boiled as you stomped out the door.

He followed, “Please baby.” His hand grabbed your arm again, but he didn’t pull. This time his grip just held you in place.

“Do not call me that, and do not touch me.” You yanked your arm out of his hand for the last time and walked away.

Gojo was drunk.

“Youreanidiot.” Geto slurred. “I said that back then too remember?” He was waving his glass in Gojo’s face.

“Shut up you drunk.”

“Hey, I’m only drunk because I’m a good best friend.”

Gojo took a large swig of his drink, the bitter taste coated his throat, a deep burn blazing down his chest. He closed his eyes and let his head fall on the table. The room was spinning. He told Geto as much, but Geto mumbled something back before getting up and leaving Gojo alone at the table.

“I need some space.”

Space was stupid. Space was dumb. Why had he asked for it? What did he learn? Oh, he learned something alright, he learned what your face looked like when your heart broke. Gojo banged his head against the table once, before letting out a deep groan.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, his hands fumbling the device as he brought it to his face. Only lifting his body half up in his seat, that’s all he could manage. He thumbed through his contacts and found your name. He called you. Once, twice, three times. Of course, you didn’t answer him so he texted.

im don’t need spac e I jst needu.

Im sn idiot.

Im sorry.

But of course, you never replied, you never read them.

“Oh, Satoru don’t text her,” Geto whined as he sat down in his seat again beside Gojo.

“I’m pathetic.”

“That you are.” Geto swung his arm around Gojo’s shoulder pulling him into his side. “But it's okay.”

“He really thinks he’s something huh?” your best friend asked from your left. You were sat on a bar stool your first drink, following three shots, in your hand. You’d only taken a sip from it before spotting Gojo leaning against a wall. His gaze geared on you.

“He really thinks he can just get you back?” Utahime asked from your right. Her presence was the reason you three were out today at this club, she was visiting for the weekend.

“He sent some drunk messages last night.” You said looking away from him and pulling your phone out to show your friends. The two leaned into to look at your screen. Your best friend snickered.

“Sad.”

“Pathetic.”

“Ah yes, that he is.” Geto’s voice churned in. Your eyes moved up to take in his smiling face, he was leaning in as well, his eyes on your phone.

You pulled your phone to your chest, forcing Geto to turn his smile to you.

“Have you heard of personal space?” You asked. Your distaste for Gojo unsurprisingly extended to his best friend.

His only response was a soft breathy chuckle and a step back.

“Hey now,” He started throwing his hands up, “I don’t think I’m the enemy.”

“Why are you two here?” Your best friend asked, Geto turned his head to her, his eyes trailing down her body before he replied.

“Isn’t it obvious babe?” He asked leaning towards her.

“It’s pathetic.” You muttered.

“I thought we already went over that,” Geto replied his hands disappearing into his pockets his eyes still on your best friend.

“Go away.” Your best friends muttered turning away from him. You could tell she was flustered by his gaze.

You rolled your eyes at Geto’s antics before quickly downing your drink.

You took Utahime and your best friend’s hands, “Come let’s go dance.” You pulled them both towards the crowded dance floor, the bass of whatever song was playing thumped through your body as you settled into a spot and began to sway to the music. The couple of shots you’d taken before realizing Gojo was also in the building were running rampant through your bloodstream now, aided by the heat of the bodies around you. You laughed as the song changed and you danced pushing your ex out of your head and letting yourself go to the music. You were having fun despite Gojo and that’s why you didn’t mind when hands snaked around your waist and pulled you away from your friends. You ground your hips back into the stranger liking the way his hands trailed up your side, his head curling into the side of your neck. He said something but you didn’t hear him, your eyes had found Gojo again his head was turned in your direction, and you knew he’d been watching you the whole time. You could feel it. Tipping the corner of your mouth up at him you lifted a hand up and threaded it into the stranger’s hair.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” You let him press wet kisses into your skin, your eyes stuck on Gojo, your hips still moving against the stranger. Your brain streamlined on your ex, you got to a dazed place where the hands on your body were Gojo’s, and so were the lips pressing heated kisses only stopping to harshly nip at your skin. Your eyes fluttered at the thought and when you gained your focus again Gojo was gone.

“Fuck off.” A voice growled to your left, a hand grabbing at the wrist that was pulling at strands of hair.

“Excuse me-” The guy was cut off as Gojo yanked you into his chest. His glasses slid down his nose as he glared at the other man.

“Gojo what the fuck.” You struggled against his grip, but his hold was strong, and he took you through the crowd towards the restroom, your body pulled into his chest the entire way. Once inside the bathroom, he pushed you towards the sink and mirror and turned to lock the door behind him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You asked. He didn’t say anything, your words hung heavy in the air as he stared at you. His gaze was heavy, his blue eyes peering at you. The only movement was him taking his glasses off, he tucked them into his back pocket and took you in. Trailing his eyes over your body, heat trailing everywhere he looked.

You narrowed your eyes at him and scoffed.

“Let me out Gojo.” You said motioning for him to move from the door.

“You know,” he started and took a step towards you, “three months, four months a year. Baby get it through your head. You are mine.”

His voice was low, rubbing against your heart pulling at your sanity and causing a deep rage to crawl over you.

“You broke up with me!” You yelled.

“And I regret it.” Gojo said, “And that only confirms how much I need you. How much you own me.”

“No, fuck that and fuck you.” You said and moved to shove him out of the way so you could leave. He grabbed both your wrist as you tried to shove him and spun you into the door. Your back hit it hard as Gojo crowded into you, your arms pinned on both sides of your head by his hands, his lips on yours in an instant.

The kiss was deep, heavy, and angry. You bit at his lip, and he moaned into your mouth. His tongue met yours and you pushed back with the same fervour he displayed. You were going to implode, his touch, his mouth was too much. You knew, ever since that day in the hallway when he grabbed your wrist, you’d known. If he touched you again it would be too much. He knew it too.

You moaned against him as he moved his thigh between your legs, your body had been rocking against his as you kissed. You felt a sense of needing to run as you moved against him but the feeling left, overwhelmed by Gojo.

“I broke up with you because I’m an idiot,” He muttered his lips still touching yours. Your eyes were closed, and your breathing shallow, your hips still rocking ever so slightly against him, but you let him talk. “One more chance, please.”

“The great Gojo Satoru begging.” You whispered back.

“For you. Yes.” He didn’t even sound ashamed. Just desperate. You relented and kissed him again. He let go of your wrists, letting his fingers tangle into your hair. Your own hands went around him, pulling at the soft strands at his neck as you got lost in him. It was familiar and good, you’d wanted this so bad. Would it be so bad to give him another chance?

Your hands left his hair and trailed down his torso and up his shirt pushing it up as you felt the ridges of his abs letting your nails dig into the hard muscle. Gojo hissed into your mouth but didn’t stop you. So, you kept moving your hands, lower this time, fingers brushing his skin as you went. Your fingers stopped at his waistband, he sucked on your tongue lightly as you both waited to see if you would do it. It didn’t take you long to decide, yes you would.

Your fingers moved to undo his pants and grab at his erection. You pulled away from his mouth and looked down, the skin of his cock was heated, and the head was swollen and red, you licked your lips as you skimmed your thumb over the slit. Gojo hissed again before letting out a soft moan as you did it again. You brought your hand to your mouth spitting into it before palming him, moving your hand against his heated skin, watching his face as he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against yours.

“I don’t deserve this.” He muttered.

“No.” you muttered, “you don’t.” But he was still getting it, he was still getting you, that thought pushed him to move, his hand pushing up your shirt and bra palming your boob before flicking at your nipple. You sucked in a breath at the action but kept your hand moving on him. He lowered his head and took your nipple into his mouth sucking on you before biting at it. You let your head fall back against the door as Gojo worked your nipple. Your hips still grinding into his thigh, and your hand still working his cock.

“Satoru,” You moaned, eye fluttering shut.

“Satoru,” He muttered back forcing your eyes to open and look at him. He was peering up at you with a cocky grin on his face, his mouth red from sucking on you. But you were beyond yourself to be mad at it, yeah you moaned his name, his first name, so what?

“I need your fingers.”

“Happily.” He answered, and let his fingers run down your quivering stomach to the band of your pants, he quickly undid them and instantly his fingers were on you. Two fingers circled your clit heating your blood further, you were arching against the door, he took your nipple back into his mouth forcing your hand to hesitate on his cock as he worked you.

You moaned his name softly again before saying “More.” He brought his head back up to yours pressing your lips into a wet kiss as he sank two fingers into you. You sucked in a breath as he began to pump his fingers. His lips moved against yours forcefully as he picked up his pace, your hand stilling on his cock as he did so. He grabbed your hand intertwining his fingers and pulled it away from him letting you focus on your pleasure as he fucked you with his fingers.

A heated bundle of energy built up in the pit of your stomach moving down as Gojo added another finger stretching you further, pulling louder moans from you as he did.

“Satoru, I’m going to cum.” You mumbled into his lips.

“Then come baby.” He muttered back, curling his fingers into your g-spot, and finally tipping you over. You saw white as you arched into his chest further, your nipples rubbing into his chest, your head rolling to the side allowing Gojo to dip his head into the crook of your neck and suck on your heated skin. His fingers worked you through your orgasm prolonging the intense heat that coursed through you until you were panting against him, your hands shaking, and your mind muddled.

“The sounds you make are mine, the face you make is mine, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you.” He said this lowly, his head dipping so that his eyes were locked with yours, “Proving to you that you own me as much as I own you.” He finished it off by pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth as he pulled his fingers from you. “Turn around babe.”

You listened and spun in his hold, your back arching so that your ass was against his groin instantly. His left hand coming up beside your head on the door, and his right holding tightly onto your waist.

“Let’s take these off.” He said and pushed at your pants, you helped him get rid of your pants and underwear, “Are you ready for me pretty girl?”

You nodded, your breath shallow still, your skin heated and your brain stuck on all things Gojo Satoru. He pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck as he brought his cock to move through your folds. You mewled when his cock head passed over your sensitive clit.

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom.” He groaned, “I wasn- this isn’t how I wanted this to-” He stumbled over his words his head bowed into your shoulder. His hips were still moving against you though, his cock still dragging through your wet folds.

“It’s okay, I’ve still got my IUD.” You let your arm turn over his head, your hand digging into his hair so that you could pull his head to yours. “Fuck me Satoru.” You whispered, your lips grazing the side of his mouth. He groaned and lined up his cock with your entrance.

“Every day baby. You’ve owned me every day since I’ve met you. I’m sorry I’m such an idiot.” He said this as he slowly sank into you, every word hitting something deep inside you as he bottomed out. You only managed to moan his name.

“I know.” He mumbled before kissing you again and began to slowly pump into you. Every single one of your senses was filled with him, you were living and breathing Gojo at that moment as he moved against you, his cock dragging against your fluttering walls. His moans filled your ears mixing with yours, joining the sloppy sound of his skin slapping against yours.

You couldn’t think properly as he moved his hand from your waist to your mouth, slipping in past your lips. You sucked on them moaning as you did, when he pulled them from your mouth a strand of spit still connected you to his fingers. He darted down to your clit deftly moving the two fingers over it to draw you closer to your second orgasm.

“Cum baby. Cum with me.” He breathed. Overwhelmed, you came. Breaking apart on his throbbing cock, you spasmed in his hold, his other hand leaving the door to gather you against his chest as he continued to fuck you through the orgasm his fingers still moving against your clit. His name repeatedly fell from your lips as you saw white sparks floating around your vision, your entire body heated and spent. He followed soon after, finishing inside you with your name on his lips.

“Prove it Satoru. Don’t fuck me over this time.” You said through heavy breaths.

“I won’t”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You smiled as you both took your time calming down and getting back to reality.

~hxt1b, feb 11 2024

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puck-bunnies · 2 months

Text

or nah..?

quinn hughes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, oral sex (m and f receiving), degrading, praising, dom!quinn, semi public sex, car sex

word count: 2.1k

getting into a argument after a tough loss, the only way you can resolve your fight is by quinn bossing you around. can you take all of him, or nah…?

“it’s not your fault quinn, you played the best you could.” we’re on the road driving home from the canucks game. they lost 4-1, he’s beating himself up, thinking he lead his team to failure, against an easily beatable team at that. quinn’s fingers grip harshly on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white with pressure. i notice his jaw clench, teeth grinding together as he lightly speeds down the dark road.

he doesn’t talk to me, there isn’t much to say. i look out the window, not daring to look at him in his angered manner. “what do you want from me quinn, do you want me to coddle you and tell you everything will be okay?” i bicker at him, my short temper showing when i know this isn’t a good time. my heart regrets the second those words escape my lips.

his teeth pierce the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows squeeze together in annoyance. “jesus Y/N, can you take five seconds off to being a complete asshole.” i’m not stunned by his words, we often have disagreements and bicker back and forth, but it always ends in the same thing. hate sex.

“i’m not the one who’s moping around because his team lost one game, it’s not the end of the world quinn.” i roll my eyes and look out the window.

he huffs, “don’t roll your eyes at me Y/N, i’ll give you a reason to roll your eyes.” quinn’s grip tightens on the wheel, turning into a backroad on the way to our house. i don’t listen to him, rolling my eyes at his bitchy demeanour again. he pulls over on the side of the road and slams on the breaks, making me wince with a jump. “out of the car, now.” he demands, i don’t waste a second to work with his wishes.

the cold winter air hits me hard, my cheeks and nose flushing with a blush. quinn slams the car door once he steps out of the drives seat, rounding the car and meeting me on the side of the abandoned road. popping open the back car door, he sits on the seat, facing me on the outside. “on your knees.” he husks.

i don’t hesitate, the rubble piercing my exposed skin as i’m only wearing a skirt, i don’t mind it, just ready for what’s in store my adrenaline overrides the soft pain. quinn unzips his own jeans, “you’re going to suck my cock like the slut you are. it’ll keep your mouth shut for once.” his eyes glare down at me, shimmying his jeans and boxers off of his hips.

quinn’s already hard cock springs out of his boxers, hitting the bottom of his stomach before coming back at my face. my fingers graze his light pink tip that’s already coated in pre cum, softly rubbing before going down the shaft, warming up his needy cock. i lower my head down, swirling my teasing tongue around the head, my spit coating his aching cock. “don’t be tease now. take it all.” quinn forms my hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling the roots of my hair enough to make me wince.

i curse under my breath, he bucks his hips up, letting himself slide into my warm and wet mouth. my hand goes down to his base, playing with the length i haven’t touched yet. my tongue acts as a pillow for his cock, laying on it as i slide myself down farther. it doesn’t take long for quinn’s length to hit the back of my throat, he stops forcing himself farther when he feels be gag too much.

easing his hips back before bucking themselves up again. my hand corkscrews the rest of his base, my other resting on quinn’s thigh to steady myself. he uses his hands to guide my head up and down while thrusting his hips, fucking my face softly at first. it doesn’t take long for him to start getting rougher, hitting the back of my throat to receive a little gag every stroke.

i dig my nails into his thigh, my pussy starting to drip with need and desire to be filled with him. i clench around nothing, trying to give myself a little something to feel good with. i take my hand off of his thigh, running down my body to my crotch. my fingers slide up and down my clothed cunt, pressing harder where my clit sits, getting a soft moan around quinn’s cock as i hit my sensitive bud.

he pulls my hair up, his cock leaving my mouth with a soft pop. “are you touching yourself while sucking my cock?” he asks in a rough manner, i nod, not being able to find words. “what makes you think you deserve that. you’ve been nothing but a brat, make me cum and maybe you’ll get something in return.”

my eyes are soft and wide as i look up at him, dragging my hand away from my desperate cunt and back onto his thigh. “good girl.” he mutters. before he can ask me to, i take him back into my mouth, sliding down till it hits the very back of my throat. quinn groans with surprise above me, letting out a soft whimper as he tightens his grip on my hair, pushing me up and down with ease.

my tongue drags up and down, feeling every vein that runs up his length. my freshly manicured nails dig into his skin, my thighs clench together to cause the friction that it so needs.

quinn turns into a groaning mess above me, every time i get to his tip and circle my tongue around it he softly whimpers. sliding my mouth back down on his cock, the sound of a passing car makes my stomach burn with anxiety. it makes me stop in my tracks, quinn’s cock filling up my mouth but my head doesn’t move an inch. i feel his burning gaze down at me, scolding me for stopping.

“no one’s doing to see us, don’t stop, not now.” he practically growls at me. he pushes my head down him farther, taking control of me. i let him continue his control, pulling my head by my hair back up his cock. he bucks his hips at the same time, not letting himself slip out of the warmness of my mouth again. i soft moan against him, “oh yeah..? you like when i fuck your mouth like this?” quinn’s voice comes out in a groan, showing his neediness for me but his dominance over me at the same time.

i can tell he’s getting close as his thighs clench underneath my hands, his thrusts up into my mouth becoming more needy. every time his tip hits the back of my throat making me gag gets him closer, groans filling the night air.

“fuck.” he curses out, then i feel it. liquid spitting out of his cock as his pace slows, chasing his own high desperately. my eyes stay trained on his face as he tilts his head back, his eyes screwing shut as he lets his orgasm take over him.

quinn pulls my head back up, his spent dick falling out of my mouth. he smirks at me, acknowledging the talent i have with just my mouth. “see, it wasn’t that hard to be good.” he whispers, pulling me up his body.

quinn’s lips smash onto mine, my teeth biting down on his bottom lip to let my tongue slide in, letting him taste the hint of him that still lingers in my mouth. he releases his grasp on my hair, instead falling down to my waist as he replaces my tongue with his, filling up my mouth.

he suddenly backs away, getting up from the car seat and joining me in standing next to the car. i don’t expect him to slam the door shut, his hands going back to my waist to pin me against the closed door. hands running down my sides to my ass, giving it a tight squeeze receiving a soft hum from me.

quinn lowers his body, kneeling on the ground as his hands slowly make way down my naked legs. my leg gets lifted, hooking onto his shoulder to let him look up at my core. getting a glimpse of my black laced panties, he slides a singer up my folds, landing on my clit, giving it a teasing rub. i take a deep breath in through my teeth, my pussy clenching around nothing as i badly crave for more of him.

he hooks two fingers in the side of my panties, moving them to the side to get an easy view of my soaked pussy. i don’t miss the smirk on his face, he always takes pleasure in seeing what i do to him, even just by sucking him off.

he replaces his fingers with his mouth, giving me a soft and teasing kiss on my clit. my hand gravitates to his hair, pulling at his soft brown curls. i push him closer to me, needing more of him so badly. he pulls against my wishes, not granting me the one thing i need so badly.

“be patient baby.” quinn’s demeanour changes from the once demanding man to a soft and gentle one. that’s how quinn always is when he eats me out, soft and praising as he gets drunk off the taste of my pussy.

he finally goes back in, his tongue flicking softly against my sensitive bud. the stubble of his growing out beard rubs against the inside of my thighs making me whimper. my knees buckle as i try not to fall from the pleasure, my back slightly arching off the cold car door being me. my head rolls back softy as quinn slides a finger into me, “keep your eyes on me pretty girl.” he softly demands of me. it’s one of his rules in bed, when he’s eating me out, my eyes have to stay on his.

i oblige, staring down at him as his mouth disappears under my skirt. my hands grab the hem of my skirt, hiking it up so i can see more of what he does to me. his tongue circling my aching clit as he adds a second finger into my hole, my walls clenching with the new added filling.

i mumble curses under my breath, quinn’s fingers curling up to my g-spot instead of jamming in and out. he takes his time with me, my hands pushing him in farther as i already feel my orgasm coming up to me, about to hit me like a bus. quinn knows it’s coming too, the quickness of his tongue against me rabidly increasing with every lick. his grip on my thigh that’s laying on his shoulder tightening, and the other on my ass playing with it.

my body can’t take it anymore, clenching one more time around him as i set my release. my loud moans filling the chilly air around me, my breath leaving with a smell smoke of air. i don’t realize the closing of my thighs, capturing quinn who has to guide my legs apart to release himself.

his fingers leave me, making me feel empty again. he slides them into his mouth, licking me off of them before doing the same against my folds. i wince slightly, my still sensitive pussy being cleaned by quinn’s tongue. “you taste so good baby.” he mumbles against me making me whimper once more.

he finishes, climbing back up my body to press his lips back against mine. this time i taste myself along his lips and tongue, moaning at the taste of sex between our mouths. “see, it doesn’t take a lot for you to be good.” quinn whispers to me.

the passenger door opens as he pulls it, letting me slip into the chair. he rounds the car, slipping into the drivers seat beside me. we finish our drive him, finally both getting the rest we so desperately need.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #quinn hughes oneshot #nhl oneshot #puck-bunnies

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kryannoy · 7 months

Text

you're so calm. you're only feral when you're fighting and . . . y'know

DAY 4 | OCTOBER 14 | PUBLIC SEX

genre: nsfw, smut character: dom!megumi x sub!reader summary: doing the deed outside and almost getting caught warnings: public sex, brat taming, cockstepping, unprotected sex, degradation (use of slut), exhibitionism

He never thought shoving his cock into you outside the house would ever cross his mind, nor even cross off his checklist. Never did you, but it did. You can thank yourself for this.

All you wanted to do was rile him up so he can slam you to a wall as soon as you guys got home but you didn't think he wouldn't wait. He's always been patient so you intended it as a joke.

But yes, now is not a joke anymore with him deep inside your hole in an alley that you're pretty sure passersby can watch the show you guys are putting on.

In a restaurant, you accidently brushed your feet to his crotch when you were adjusting your position. And his reaction did not go unnoticed in your eyes. Your devilish smirk is hidden as your feet crawls up his shin to his thigh. He smacked you away with a glaring look, telling you to behave. But of course you don't listen. You continue rubbing his cock under the table and he's trying his best to keep in his moans, only having to fake cough for coverup. His blush was noticeable, though. His hands flailing to make you stop and his eyes sending death glares. However, all of that went over your head, thinking that he won't do such things in public so you have to wait at home.

After dinner, instead of making your way to both of your car, Megumi pulled you in the alleyway next to the restaurant. The thing is, it's a one way window glass--you can see the people inside but they can't see the outside.

"You wanted to act like slut, huh? Well, I'll treat you like one. Don't worry." His pants are down and your dress is hiked up to your hips. Your panties are long gone in his pocket. He maneuvered you to the window, bending you down ass up, tits and face pressed up against the cold glass. He gives you a loud smack on your ass and aligned his cock to your pussy. You moaned out from the sudden stretch with no prep.

"Oh, you really want the customers to know, huh? You love that, don't you?" He hisses when he feels your walls clench around him from his dirty talks. His hips started thrusting, pounding into your wet, sopping cunt. His grip on your hips will surely leave a mark. If you gave him no chance to contain his dignity just now, then he will do the same.

Not even two minutes have passed and you're already creaming on his raging cock. Somehow you couldn't control your voice, forgetting that you're out in the open. The two customers that was close to the two of spin their head into your direction. You weren't sure if they heard you or not. But after awhile, their turn back to their food.

Megumi lets out a low groan as he also bust his nut inside you. He didn't stop there, oh no. He wants to tease you like you did. He pounded his dick into you so hard you jolted into the glass. Then, he waits a little before doing it again. Waiting and pounding, waiting and pounding. Your moans accompanying each thrust, getting higher and higher. The same two customers look back to both of your direction again and you shut your mouth this time. Whimpers only coming out. Megumi leans in to you and whispered in your ear.

"They're watching you and here you are with my pussy clenching down my cock? You want me to fuck you again, you little horny bastard? C'mon, let's give them some entertainment."

He starts picking up his pace, his pelvis smacking into your ass, giving you spanks at a time. His fingers crawl up to you lips, forcing them open so you can be loud. At this point, you're pretty his shyness and usual timid self has thrown to who-knows-where and you kind of not complaining. You were the one who brought this upon yourself.

The customer has called a waiter to come check the mysterious noise near them, which the waiter obeyed the orders and approach your direction. You lifted yourself off the glass so you won't be seen if looked closely. However, Megumi notices your intention and pushed you back to the glass. This time caging you so you have no way to move around. His head is buried into your neck, biting it to only contain his voice while yours and still forced open with his fingers shoved down your throat. You met the waiter's eyes and you couldn't help to cum for the second time on his cock.

"You dirty slut," he coos before smacking your ass from your naughtiness.

Thankfully, the waiter turned back around and shook his head to the customer. You both assume it was nothing and he only came to 'check' the noise just to satisfy the customer needs. You sigh in relief as Megumi came again in your pussy. He groans out as he removed himself from you. Your hole now dripping with white cum in huge globs. You hear him growl from behind you as he shoved back his cum into you with his fingers so it wouldn't drip again when you walk to your car or staining the seat of his car because he won't be giving you your panties back.

#kinktober 2023 #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #megumi smut #megumi #fushiguro smut #fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader

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queers-gambit · 4 months

Text

Menace

prompt: ( request that i accidentally deleted ) in essence, "drabble about Tangerine going to the bathroom and texting Reader 'come here'."

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: cursing, OC!Tangerine, we talk mental health (social anxiety), established relationship, busy public work settings, the request and then some, alcohol consumption, smut, bathroom sex at a work event (Cherry, what the fuck?), handguns and mild depiction of violence 'cause it's Tangerine, i give him a 'real' name (Aaron), not edited.

"This is such bullshit, sugar, c'mon, fuck are we doin' here?" Tangerine snipped in your ear, his arm curled protectively around your waist as he glared at those in rich suits and expensive colognes around him. "We don't belong 'round this lot, they're just here t'wave their money. There's no real reason for us bein' here, sweet girl, c'mon, let's just shove off. Better than chokin' on whatever this lot's wearin' - I mean, Christ Alive, smells like a bloody Bloomingdales, don't it?"

You smiled prettily in case of watchful eyes, telling him sternly in a sweet tone, "Lovie, I told you, my boss said we were needed for at least cocktail hour. We can leave before dinner, okay?"

"This is gonna last fuckin' hours, princess, c'mon, we should just go," he grumbled. "Fuck these people and these bullshit fundraisers."

"We'll be okay, I promise," you soothed sweetly, the honest opposite of Tangerine - leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. You were constantly touching one another and early in your relationship, you realized how much you loved kissing him and completely forewent lipsticks or glosses because of it. Another peck and you told him in a soft tone, "C'mon, just remember we said we'd pick up Changs on our way home and there's that bottle of nice Merlot A - I mean, Lemon gave us," you almost used your boyfriend's brother's real name, but caught yourself with plenty of time.

"Hmm," he smirked, his favorite takeout place being a happy distraction. "Cheat day sounds nice, yeah, but still don't make this go any faster, now does it?"

"No, but we're not gonna be here forever," you soothed, turning into his chest to pet the expensive material of this navy three-piece suit. "You look so handsome, my love. Really love seein' you in navy suits, and the white button up looks really clean with it." Tangerine smiled down at you, the bustle around you melting away as he could only hear, see, smell, feel, and focus on you. Then, you spoke coyly as you fixed his tie, "If you behave the rest of the night, I promise I'll make it up t'you. Yeah? Maybe wear that li'l white thing you love?" He perked up, but before he could respond, you ended, "Or maybe I already have it on - anyways, so, listen t'me, I have to go talk t'some people and do the job that pays me, so I suggest you just take a deep breath; get another drink, find Lemon, and then we'll go soon, okay?"

He looked around the usual investors his private employer had to shmooze for donated funding and frowned when he was acutely aware of not just the sheer number, but how many "important" people attended the evening's gala. The Black Market was funded by multiple someones; most of whom were in this very room and while under the radar, it still made Tangerine feel as if a huge target was painted on the building's wall. There was always a need for services outside the law and these richie-riches couldn't take the money with them to the grave, so, they donated money if it meant they were "well taken care of".

The Twins' handler insisted they attend the gala tonight; being well aware that they were more like show ponies for being on display for investors to see. Putting a face to names made myth into reality, and your boyfriend was a hot commodity due to his skill as a contract killer. He and his brother were legends around the various active agencies, investors happy to see their money going to good use; all wanting to know what they had bought for a price-tag of several billion.

The common conversation of the evening was how readily available The Organization was able to offer their services with no questions asked, no matter what. Tan hated these events, feeling nauseated, overstimulated, overwhelmed; overall, exploited by his employer as attendees gossiped about the Bolivia Job, the Kyoto Crash, the Libyan Disaster, and a few other memorable jobs Tan and Lemon were involved in. Their beady little eyes followed him around, mouths hidden behind crystal flutes of champagne, and bodies always shied away from him as if he were a wild beast.

Sure, they pay to sit and gather in the arena, but flee when the raging bull they've helped antagonize gets loose.

Then you came along and took on the brunt end of these social events. Tan was never quite sure how you got involved in this life, you always giving a new answer, but knew you had gone to university for multiple degrees - one being in something called "communications". Now, if you had asked Tan a few years ago, he'd've said that was a bullshit job, bullshit degree, a total waste of time. Now that his popularity had grown and he was exposed to more social obligations, he was was beyond grateful to have someone navigate this with him. Tangerine's bad attitude most of the time was just a deflection, being why you and Lemon could handle him; knowing the lad's anxiety often choked him past logic and made him a sarcastic, violent cunt.

When Tangerine forced himself back to reality after glaring at the other warm bodies mingling around, Tangerine's arm contracted tight enough that he could bring you in for a quick kiss. Quietly, he muttered in your ear, "I'll give you half an hour, darling, no more."

"No less," your eyes rolled but your lips were spread in a grin. He chuckled and softened his expression; whoever might've been watching feeling something akin to shock and awe (like one felt when they saw a lion in person for the first time), knowing Tangerine was a horribly stoic, violent, and short-tempered man. To see him now, amused and soft with such a beauty of a woman - well, it was jarring. He was still known to be an asshole, but it seemed you had a stronger leash on Tangerine than his handler ever did. But perhaps, no stronger than Lemon.

"Right," Tan sighed. "What was first on your list fa' me t'do?"

"You're gonna take a deep breath, get another drink, and then find Lemon," you repeated softly, "but I'm gonna say you owe me a kiss before that drink."

Tan huffed.

"That wasn't a deep breath, Tan, c'mon, we've been over this," you mock glared, feeling both his hands secure to your hips. He pet the expensive silk you wore with his thumbs, the pocket square resting over his heart a tailored square of the same material.

"Sweetheart - "

"In through your nose, out through your mouth, Tan," you cut him off. "Together, I'll do it with you, c'mon. In..."

Tangerine adjusted his stance in those shining Italian leather shoes you gifted him for Christmas that year. He took a steady breath in through his nose when you did, watching for your subtle nod, then exhaling slowly through his mouth - when you did. Again, together, in through the nose, your nod after about seven seconds, then exhaled through the mouth. After one more, you smiled at him in encouragement, both hands splayed on his lapels; his own moving so they coiled around you.

"All right," he grumbled, "yeah, it helps, pretty girl."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Feel better?"

"Don't push it, plum," he mumbled, bringing you in closer so he could kiss the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear while stroking your spine with his fingertips. "Thank you," he whispered, mustache tickling your skin, "always know how t'get me out me head, don't'cha?"

"I try, but you don't always make it easy, you know?" You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth to smother your grin, leaning into his chest. "Kiss me, please, then go get a drink and find Lemon. Don't talk to the investors," you warned, adding, "please."

This made a mischievous smirk spread across his lips, "Awe, hey, c'mon, aren't they here t'see me? I can say hello. You won't even 'ave'ta introduce me, they'll know me."

"Okay, yes, they're here t'see the lot of yah, but they're not here to get yelled at, yeah? Or called cunts? Insulted in any manner?" You sang in a light tone; caressing his cheek to guide him to your lips for a long desired kiss. The hand on his cheek curled around to grip the back of his neck, gently tugging the neat strands of hair as you tried to convey your pride.

Social anxiety was a bitch and though he'd deny it vehemently, Tan was riddled with it. Seeing him endure this evening (despite the constant complaining) was a mighty feat, wanting your kiss to spark something in his gut that would cause his confidence to soar so it'd put a bit of "pep in his step" to get through the rest of the evening.

And boy, did it.

After parting ways, Tangerine was left to get his drink with a full-chub that made him shake both legs out in an attempt to hide his arousal. Yet as he watched you melt seamlessly into the crowd, he couldn't get the picture out of his mind that maybe you were wearing that white thing he liked. Tan leaned on the bar top, cock stirring to life with each passing second; watching you mingle and mix and shmooze investors and wanting nothing more than to interrupt and get you alone. With his drink, he located Lemon, trying to forget the way his cock was begging for attention while you worked your magic on these walking-talking-money-bags.

"All right, bruv?" Lemon asked, the two standing with a few other agents that were wrangled in for the event.

"Hmm?"

Lemon glared, then snickered to himself. "Oh, fuck me, mate, you're fucked, aren't you?"

"Come off it," Tan took another slug from the expensive whiskey glass. "'S only me second."

Lemon blinked in shock, "That's not possible. You hate these fancy things, you don't like bein' sober at'em."

"I've been distracted."

"No shit, 'cause your lady's here, gotta be on your best behavior, don't yah?" Lemon snickered, sighing as he shook his head and accepted the champagne being passed around by a waiter with a full tray. "But enough that you ain't been drinkin'? Yeah, right - oh, shit, wait," he beamed, "didn't Y/N get that administrative promotion? It's that, ain't it? Ho-ho!" He laughed, "Yeah? Don't tell me you've been her arm candy all night, mate?"

"We've been tucked away, actually," Tan admitted, missing the way Lemon blinked in shock 'cause he was searching for you in the deepening crowd. "She knows I don't like these things, right, so, we stood away from 'em all, ova there," he pointed off to where Lemon knew was roped off for VIPs. "We were just talkin', laughin'. She makes these shitty li'l jokes, you know? Kept us more entertained than the rest of these fucks," Tangerine chuckled, hand hiding his grin of amusement as he wiped around his mouth to play it off.

This made Lemon nod with impression, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, but," Tan sniffled, "duty calls, she's gotta work a bit, get some donations goin'. Apparently, I'm not allowed t'talk t'the fancy donors."

Lemon checked his watch, "Fair enough, you did punch that Sultan - "

"Oh, come the fuck off it, that was three years ago! He was fine."

"You broke his nose, mate. You want another?"

Tangerine skulled the last of his drink, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good, mate. Might be time t'go soon."

"I'll leave when you two do, wouldn't wanna be stuck here alone," Lemon agreed, the two turning away to stand at a cocktail table together and away from the others. "This is why we don't work inna office, this lot - Jesus, fuck. Oh, shit, oi, mate, you seen who all's here tonight? Fuck's sake..."

"Yeah, mate, I've seen 'em all, but there's too many t'know who the fuck you mean specifically." He pulled his phone out as Lemon rumbled on in excited impression about the evening's guests to send you a quick text,

wrap it up, pretty girl. i got things i wanna do to you that ain't for others to see unless they pay.

He could see you from where he and Lemon stood; and when your phone chimed, you checked it almost instantly, smiling at the message. He waited for your rapid reply,

if my panties had a crotch, they'd be soaked. love you in blue 💙

That was enough for Tangerine, who nodded at his brother, "Gimme a minute, yeah? Gonna pop off t'the loo before we go. Have another," he pointed to the drink in Lemon's hand as he backed away, "but not that frilly shit, mate, have a real fuckin' drink. Oi!" He snapped his fingers at a passing waitress, "Sorry, sweetheart, yeah, my bruva, there," he pointed at Lemon, who waved awkwardly, "will take a double whiskey, on the rocks, yeah, and he likes them lemon twists. That somethin' you can grab for him, love?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, high-strung ponytail swishing.

Tangerine snickered lightly, shelling out a hefty tip that she accepted, "And bring him a Lemon Drop shot, too, please."

"Anything else, sir?"

"Ah, if you'd like, maybe your number for him, too?" Tan instigated, hearing Lemon groan and grumble in embarrassment. "My bruva, there, he's bloody golden, yeah? Can't do no better, man just has no flaws - less we count tha' he's a wee bit shy, innit? Pretty ladies intimidate him a bit, but he's the bravest man I fuckin' know. Just gotta warm 'im up a bit, don't'cha know?"

"He sounds like a real gentleman. But maybe I can give mine if you give your number to my friend?" The waitress countered, pointing towards the central bar that the servers operated out of. There was a decently pretty girl with dark hair, twiddling her fingers at them with a pearly grin. "She's sweet, kind, absolutely wild in bed - "

"Sounds like an even deal, sweets, but you see - I've got a woman, yeah? And my lady? Well, she's kinda one of your bosses tonight, so, uh, might not be a good idea now, would it? She gets all territorial, protective, likes what's hers t'be just hers - ain't real big on sharin'." The waitress flushed in embarrassment. "But my bruva, here," Tan pointed back at Lemon while unlocking his phone, "he's a fuckin' don, yeah? Ain't nobody gonna treat cha' t'a better night. Oi, hey, I'll be back, bruv," he called to Lem with a smirk, then reminded the waitress, "double whiskey, lemon twist, on the rocks. And that Lemon Drop, please."

"Of course, sir, right on it," she agreed, Tangerine finally backing away fully. He typed you a new message,

meet me in the bathroom right now

Inside, it was decently spacious; unisex, six stalls, made of pristine marble, veiled fluorescent lighting, and there was a lock on the door - which Tan cared most about.

He planted himself behind the two other men at the walled-off urinals, hands clasping together in front of him. "Right, then, you two," he gestured between them, "got 'bout 30 seconds to finish yourselves and get the fuck outta here." He pulled the usual gun from his waistband, threatening, "Or I'll give you fuckin' fucks a show 'bout all them stories you love whisperin' 'bout. Yeah? How's that? Hey? Thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!"

They were barely zipped up and gone by the time Tangerine got to second 21; you entering right as the two were scurrying for the swinging-open door. You yelped a little, jumping out of their way, offering Tangerine a strange look and musing, "Uh, what was that? You fightin' in the privy, again?"

He put his handgun away as he stalked towards you, "Just makin' sure we wouldn't be interrupted."

"Tan, hell no, there's so many people!"

He yanked you from the doorway, making sure it was shut before locking it loudly. "Then we gotta be quick, don't we? C'mon, doll, real fast, bosses won't even question you bein' gone."

"I still have work - "

"Nah, nah," he pawed your gown's skirts upward, "you been teasin' me all fuckin' night, lookin' too fuckin' good - I can't wait, baby. Just look so Goddamn pretty, feels like I'm losin' my mind. Lemme see yah," he got the silk bunched around your waist, gasping loudly when he saw your panties. "You really did wear 'em... Like the good girl you are," he purred, one hand dropping the silk to run his hand over the strappy and lacy material you wore. "Swear I'll take my time with yah at home, the way I want - but can't do that here, just needa be inside yah, sugar, c'mere."

"Baby," you gasped when his fingertips ghosted around your cunt that was bare due to the crotchless cutout. "I only need a-a-a," you trailed off, panting when one finger suddenly plunged into your cunt, "ohhh, shiiiit. Yes, baby, oh, God!"

"Keep talkin'," He smirked, backing you up towards the marble counter. "C'mon, tell me off. Tell me what's more important right now, huh? More important than this? Is it work? Huh? Work got you distracted? Wanna get back t'it instead of bein' here with me?" The heels of your palms slammed into the pristine counter, whimpering when he pumped erratically. "Aht, here you go," he smirked, pausing to pull his hand free of your warmth; seizing your waist and helping hoist you back onto the sink's ledge. Your lips meshed sloppily with his, Tan letting you dominate the kiss because you were mewling - so desperate for him, you were nearly suckling on him; hands trembling as they held his cheeks with your manicured fingertips. When your legs instantly spread to accommodate Tangerine's hulking form, grinding your hips into him, he seethed, "Good girl," before sinking his digit back into your wet heat that halted your ministrations out of pure relieving pleasure.

"You're a menace," you panted against his mouth when you remembered reality, Tangerine's belt rattling open and his zipper teeth shrieking when you shucked them open. "Gimme," you whispered, reaching for him; dropping his pants the rest of the way to take his pulsing cock in hand. "This what you wanted? Right? Why you texted me? Interrupted me?"

"Exactly," he licked his lips before smashing them to yours in a suffocating kiss, always the one to help you push boundaries and do things you never thought you'd ever do if not for him. "Why're you so wet? Huh? Why's that? Had this on your mind, too, didn't'cha, dirty girl? Why else would you wear my favorite?"

"'T reward you for tonight," you panted, giving his cock a few pumps. "'S my scene, not yours, just so fucking proud of yah - for how you did, gettin' through it," you guided him to your weeping entrance after pushing his hand from you, both gasping when his cockhead notched on the lip of your cunt. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted, praising him as he sunk his hips into your own; effectively blurring your mind.

He grunted, needing a single moment to press his balls between you two as he waited for you to accommodate to his size. Forehead to forehead, your eyes remained shut; breathing the same air, feeling your insides fluttering at the size of him. His mouth was at your ear, demanding, "Tell me again, pretty girl."

You knew what he wanted, letting your legs spread a little wider and held onto his shoulders since this position didn't allow for much else. You whimpered, "You did so good tonight, baby. Oh, fuck, I'm so proud of you - you did so fuckin' good." He groaned and retracted his hips, beginning a brutal pace and messy rhythm to pump himself in deep strokes. You had to hold onto his upper arms now to allow him space to move. "Always so good for me, but tonight? Fuck - you're so good, Aaron. So fucking good - and tonight you were fucking amazing. I'm so proud, so fucking proud of you," you whimpered, his hands holding your hips so the counter could pose as leverage to allow him the angle to pound up into you while shifting you down on him.

"Almost there, baby," he begged, eyes all over. He loved the sight of your 'panties' still on; the criss-crossing of the straps and pattern of the lace still in place while his cock made a mess of you. Your gown glittered in this light, your skin tacky with a thin layer of sweat from your arousal that made him dip low and lick a bold stripe between your breasts. "Lemme see - lemme get a taste, doll, want you in my mouth," he muttered against your cleavage, still holding you on his cock as you pulled a tit free. You gave a shrill yelp when Tangerine surged forward suddenly and bit harshly on your budding, sensitive nipple; but it was in-sync with him changing the pace of his thrusting to something borderline painful.

It wasn't a secret he was well-endowed, there wasn't much to the imagination with the way his suits are tailored.

But having ten(plus) inches; fully swollen, engorged, jackhammering into you at this angle? It wasn't the most pleasurable at first, but with Tan licking, nipping, and sucking at both nipples now, you endured until moaning authentically. You were all but hanging off the counter by now, Tan the only reason you weren't on the floor; using upper body strength to hold onto him while slithering a hand toy your stomach to toy with your enlarged clit.

It took very little time of harsh pressure from your fingers to come undone, pleasure mounting to a crescendo before shattering your grip to reality. With a gasp, your hips humped into Tan's by your own blinding vocation; arms tight around his shoulders to remain upright as you milked yourself.

The contraction of your cunt was all Tangerine needed, and four slaps of his balls later had him doubling over and pinning you in a small slam, chest-to-chest, to the marble.

"Oh, my fuckin' God," you panted in appreciation.

"Shit," he realized, "shit, fuck, did I hurt you? Fuck - baby - "

"I'm not hurt," you panted, keeping a tight hold to refuse him from standing up, "just happy."

He deflated with a small chuckle. In your neck, he mumbled, "I can't feel my legs."

"Wanna sit?"

"Nah, not here," he mused, licking the sweaty skin of your pulse point. "Just had t'wear the li'l white ones, didn't'cha?"

"You get all worked up when I do."

"With good reason, should see yourself the way that I do - Goddamn, doll. My girl's divine, too good for these fuckers out here."

You were about to retort, but there was a loud, rapid banging at the locked door. "Hey! Hey! Whoever's in there! There's people that need in, you fucking arseholes! Get your dick wet at your own place, you broke bitches!"

You gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth as Tangerine finally stood off you, keeping you balanced on the counter as you sat up. "Oh, my fucking God, Tan! I-I-I-I'm gonna get fired! Oh, holy shit! This isn't happening!"

"No - "

"Aaron, we were literally just caught - "

"Hey, hey, just breathe," he paused, sighing as he caressed your cheek. "Let me handle this for us, okay? The way you protect me, let me protect you. Yeah?"

You nodded mutely, looking ready to burst into tears. After Tan pulled out and helped you clean up (ignoring the warm cum that dripped down your inner thighs), he simply wrapped you in his navy suit jacket, rolled up his crisp white sleeves, and pulled out his handgun. "Oh, baby, don't - "

"Trust me," he purred, arm secure around your waist. "Oh... Shit, hang on," he set the gun down to use his hands and fix your hair, your heart soaring by the sweet, domestic gesture. "I got'cha, pretty girl, one sec - there we go, yeah," he smirked, looking proud of himself. "Yeah, all right, there we go," he cupped your cheeks, "all perfect."

"Thank you," you whispered.

"Now, we're gonna walk out with confidence. Just don't stop, don't look at anyone. Actually, look a li'l smug," he instructed. "And we're just gonna grab Lemon and get outta here, yeah?"

You pouted lightly, "After I get the O-K from my boss."

"Nah, we don't ask permission, just forgiveness."

"Terrible philosophy."

"I prefer effective. Ready?" He asked, picking his gun up again. You nodded, latching onto him as his arm secured around you again, then approached the door. He unlocked it loudly and yanked it open, glare instantly taking over his expression as you were met with a gaggle of angry, grumbling patrons. "We got a fuckin' problem?" Tangerine sneered, his gun winking in the dim lighting; those who were waiting instantly backing off.

You did as he advised: didn't look at anyone, didn't stop, looked a little smug. He lead you through the throng of people, hearing a woman sneer under her breath - gasping when Tan turned his gun on her. "Tangerine!" You snapped, the people around you all freezing.

"Got somethin' t'say?" He taunted the woman, who shook her head. "No? You sure? Now?" He asked, shifting the weapon over to her date's forehead. She shook her head again. This made Tan smirk, "Jealousy ain't pretty on anyone, love. Keep your fuckin' mouth shut."

"Let's go, now," you insisted, tugging on his unbuttoned waistcoat to walk away together. "Can't shoot everyone who offers insult."

"No, but word will spread," he smirked. "Ain't nobody gonna say a fuckin' word to yah now. And if they do," he shrugged, "you'll tell me. All right, now, uh," he paused you both, nodding ahead, "that's a bit of my doin'. Question is, do we interrupt?"

You peered around a person or two until Lemon and a pretty waitress was in sight. She was giggling and grinning, the two deep in conversation; just enraptured and toying with each other's hands.

"We should probably let him know we're leaving. Maybe text him?"

"So, we are leaving, huh?" Tan smirked. "No more precious work to go run off to?"

Your lips moved beside his ear, licking the shell before speaking so your cool breath fanned over the wet skin, "I can't work with your cum leakin'."

His hand groped your arse cheek tightly, "If you do, I promise t'make yah my li'l Twinkie, huh? Fuck you all night, like you deserve."

"Oh, now you wanna stay? You fuckin' serious?"

"Yeah, but, now it's a game."

"You're a fucking menace!"

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

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weixuldo · 5 months

Text

Like a Drug

Toxic!Anakin x Reader

a/n: hihihi, this one is a pretty long one shot ahh sorry! its based on this ask from @hanasnx ! (Though I did change the promp a little) I just wanted to also update that It is officially finals week- so I'll be slower than i alr am SORRY!! but i have been working on the next xhapters of allow me and enigma when i get breaks!! I hope u enjoy! ALSO! Please don't stay w someone if they act the way anakin does in this fic- this is purely a scenario for fictional purposes, never let anyone do anything he does, to you.

Anakin has a very peculiar way of showing his love; well you call it love other people call it an unhealthy obsession... you finally realize how fucked up the situation is and leave- but the real question is how long can you stay away?

warnings: cursing, toxic bf ani, smex, cumplay, agressive behavior, mention of blood, fights, alluded sexual harassment, anakin is obsessive and posessive. (he's does some fucked up shit)

_____________________

“Get up” Anakin’s stern voice rang as he gripped your upper arm.

You jumped at the unexpected contact- why was Anakin here?

“Ani! You scared m-” you started to laugh before he tightened his grip.

“Now.” he growled.

You looked back at your friends sitting across the table from you; their eyes were wide. Before you could say anything, Anakin started to pull you up.

“Let go of her!” one of your friends demanded.

He snapped his head towards her and only loosened his grip on you to stomp to the other side of the table. His tall frame towered as he glared daggers at her.

“The fuck did you just say?” he spat.

She went pale and looked down at her lap.

“That’s what I thought. Anyone else have any smart comments?” he huffed, before promptly pulling you out of the restaurant.

Before you made it all the way out the door you mouthed an “its ok” to your friends before following your boyfriend outside.

“Anakin, what the fuck?” you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air.

He continued towards his sleek black camaro (he loved to drive through the city at night, music blaring and his hand on his property, your thigh).

“Don’t fucking ignore me Anakin!” you shouted, gaining the attention of an older couple who were heading inside the restaurant.

Your cheeks burned as you caught their stares, but honestly you were used to this shit, it wasn’t the first time you and Ani had made a scene in public. Anakin always did this- he would get pissy over some irrelevant thing and you would get into an argument.

He stopped and turned with such anger.

“You really wanna know? You shouldnt have to fuckin’ ask why I’m upset! If you ever thought of anyone but yourself you’d see how fucked up it is of you to get dinner with those bitches who want to break us up” he screamed; his beautiful blue eyes dark with rage.

You knew Anakin hated your friends. And you knew they hated him.

“You know they don’t like me and always try to get you to leave- Meanwhile those sluts cant keep their legs shut; they’re probably just jealous cause I’m the only guy who gets to fuck you and they have to find a new one every night!” he spat.

Most of your friends were in stable relationships, but of course Anakin didn’t bother to remember that.

“How am I selfish Anakin? I just wanted to grab dinner with the girls and you didn’t even come up. I told them not to bring you up after the last fight” you sighed, exhausted from Anakin's irrational moods.

His sculpted jaw clenched and his right eye twitched.

“It's the fact that you still even allow their company, it’s disrespectful.”

You shook your head and huffed in disbelief.

“Anakin, you are absolutely unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable… Do you even hear yourself right now?!” you screamed.

“And not that it should even fucking matter, but how did you even know I was with them?”

“I have your location- you know that” he stated as if you asked if the sky was blue.

“I know that, but how about them?”

He knew where they were because he made several alternative snapchat accounts and pretended to be someone from school who was just looking for new friends.

He spent nights pretending to be an excited freshman who was wondering where the science building was. He used remix to send your friends snaps that made it look like he was on campus or hanging out downtown with other students. And eventually he gained their trust enough for them to turn on their snap map for him so he could “make sure they were safe” if they went somewhere, since it's “dangerous for us college girls down here”.

“Intuition.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, “No way, you probably chipped their phones or some psycho shit cause you’re fucking crazy Anakin!”

“Well if you just goddamn did what I told you we wouldn’t have to have these conversations or be in these situations” he replied dryly.

“How many fucking “rules” are there for me to follow?! Everytime I go out or do anything, you find something to nit pick! It's exhausting! I don’t even know why I’m still with you?!”

“Get in the car.” he demanded.

“You’re insane if you think-”

His whole demeanor shifted and he sighed, “baby, please… I’m sorry, let’s talk about this”.

“No, Anakin- i’m done with your bullshit” you said, heading back towards the building.

He felt his scarred eye twitch, but he needed to subdue his temper (just until he could take it out on your pretty pussy).

See, Anakin Skywalker was a master manipulator. He knew that no matter how much you fought or how insane he acted- you would always come back.

This was clockwork for him. You’d fight, he’d act vulnerable, you would fuck, and then you’d be good for a while. A perfect system. Never failed.

He called your name with a desperate plea- he had no problem acting needy if it got him to where he needed to be, plus this gave you the illusion of having power in this familiar situation.

You hesitantly turned around to meets his gaze; his beautiful blue eyes glassy with his brilliant manipulation.

“Baby, I’m sorry- I just worry about you..” he spoke softly as you subconsciously came closer.

Soon his strong arms were wrapped around your waist and his scent flooded your senses.

“You know I can't control my feelings sometimes- I just love you too much- I can’t lose you too…” he whispered into your hair.

You knew exactly what he was referring to with the “too”- his mother. He was very close with her, growing up she was all he had. A few years back she passed away and it took a big toll on your lover.

You never wanted to admit it, but you knew he used that to guilt trip you into staying or to get you to feel bad for him.

You hated him.

But you couldn’t stop…

You held him tighter and grabbed his shirt fabric, “I know Ani… I know”.

You were now crying too- You knew this was unhealthy- toxic even; but you just couldn’t quit him.

You felt his strong arms lift you up and he carried you towards his camaro; you knew what came next… He’d comfort you, fuck you, then you would act as if no argument ever happened.

A cycle you had gotten all too familiar with.

__________________________________

“F-fuck” Anakin stuttered as he slammed his cock into you; intensive sounds of your bodies colliding, ricochet off the bedroom walls.

“You feel s-so good Baby- doin’ so good for me” he praised as he thrusted in and out of your plush walls. You were lying on your back as he held one of your legs over his shoulder so he could hit even deeper.

The glorious feeling of his calloused hands along your smooth stomach made you shiver. When you first started dating Anakin he told you that he would please you so well that no other men would be able to compare.

he was right…

No man could navigate your body the way he does, read your tells like he could, no man could make you cum as well as Anakin could.

He slowed his hips for a moment making you whine at the lack of movement from his thick cock.

“Look at me baby”.

You blinked your doe eyes open, tears falling from the corners. He observed your features before his eyes softened.

“My girl, my pretty girl… always so lovely” she smiled before tenderly kissing you.

“I love you more than anything” he whispered against your plump lips.

This.

Moments like this were why you stayed: he could be kind- he was sweet- he did care.

You were about to reciprocate his statement but were cut off by his hand tightly gripping around your throat as he continued snapping his hips into yours.

You squealed with each powerful thrust- it was ok, you’d tell him later.

His swollen member was blushing red and as hard as could be. He absolutely adored having you below him, taking his dick like a champ- he remembered how proud he was when you were finally able to take all of him.

A particularly hefty thrust sent his neurons firing and he knew he was almost at his end. He sloppily bucked his hips into your pelvis as his breathing became more erratic.

“I’m gonna cum- w-where do you want it sweet girl?” he half stuttered, half moaned.

You patted your chest and gave Anakin a knowing look.

With that he was gone, his brows knitted together in ecstasy and his hips lurched forward. A string of obscenities left his mouth as he quickly slid his dick out of you to aim for your chest.

Barely one pump in, his warm seed coated your chest. You watched as his abs and thighs contracted with each wave of pleasure. Some of his damp curls stuck to his forehead, he had a sheen of sweat, and his cheeks were flushed.

What a beautiful sight.

_________________________________________

Anakin’s fingers tucked some wild strands of hair behind your ear as you slept peacefully beside him.

Last night cut it a little closer than he normally would have, but it all worked out because here you were, still with him- fast asleep in his bed.

He grabbed your phone and began to go through your messages (an unhealthy habit he picked up a few months back), his fingers immediately moved to the new notifications from your friends.

He opened the pinned group chat and read the messages from last night.

Where r u? Where’d he take u?

Are you alright?

WTF was that?!

Anakin rolled his eyes; your friends were always so dramatic. But he smiled when he saw your response.

“Guys i'm good, ani took me home and we talked things out- he’s just been really stressed out lately, it's nothing to worry about!”

You were his good girl and he’d spoil you today for your loyalty.

He continued to scroll passively until he got to the newer unread messages.

y/n, can we all please talk when you get back- we’re worried about you

Yea, anakin doesn’t seem like he has the best intentions

We hate to see you in this situation

Babe, he’s toxic- u need to dump him

“...u need to dump him”

Anakin almost threw the phone across the room- no way these bitches were telling you to dump him?!

He was the only one who took care of you, he was the only one who knew what was best for you- who did these girls think they were?!

Before he could stop himself he took out his own phone and copied all of their numbers down so he could send several nasty message to the girls basically telling them to back the fuck off and being unnecessarily hateful.

After he blocked their numbers, he decided it was time for a shower, so he left you with a kiss and headed to the bathroom.

The emptiness of the bed made you wake. For a moment, you began to search for Anakin but the shower in the other room indicated where he was.

You smiled and cuddled further into his sheets. The warmth of the blankets began to pull you back into slumber but your phone interrupted the notion.

It was one of the girls you had gotten dinner with last night, what would she be calling this early for?

“Hello?”

y/n, I’m sorry but you need to come back now, I don’t think it's the best idea for you to be with anakin-

“Wait, slow down… why?”

She sent you screenshots of the messages he sent and you almost dropped your phone.

“What the fuck?! Anakin sent this?”

Yes, this morning- I really think you should get out of that relationship y/n- I’ve been telling you this! He’s trying to make you dependent on only him- it's not healthy!

You took a moment to regain your thoughts and quickly said a goodbye when you heard the water stop running.

Why would he be so cruel? You knew he had his issues but he’d never been so explicitly viscous before. Maybe your friends were right, you had been manipulated so much that you were defending his toxic behavior. This had to stop.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to face him for long (he would just pull you back in). So you quickly began to gather your things so that it would be easier to leave after you talked with him.

You almost had everything packed when the doorknob turned to reveal a fresh Anakin; his hair was still damp from the shower and his skin had a glistening shine from the residual steam. He had such a big smile… you hated this, but it needed to be done.

“What’s going on princess?” he frowned when he saw your bag was already packed.

“Anakin… I have to go” you said hurriedly.

He moved in front of you and held up a hand, “Woah, can we talk about what’s going on? Why are you leaving in such a hurry?” he asked (genuinely worried).

With a sigh, you looked him in the eye, “Anakin- we can’t keep doing this- we aren’t good for eachother”.

He felt his chest tighten.

“Was it your friends? Did they put those thoughts in your head?! I told you they weren’t-”

“Anakin! Please, enough! I saw what you said to them- Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not acting like the man I fell in love with… You’ve changed so much” you said with watery eyes.

For a moment he looked as if he were going to punch something but eventually he let out a breath and defeatedly stood to the side. Your words seemed to really hit him.

“Angel, I do what I do because I love you- you know that. I know I’m messed up- but I’ve been working on it, Truly” he promised.

Tears fell as you shook your head, “I know Ani, but it's not fair to me- I can’t keep doing this! We always end up fighting and you always get upset”

“I DON'T!” Anakin unintentionally shouted, making you shrink away from him.

“This is what I'm talking about Ani, I don’t wanna do this- no, i’m not doing this anymore. I’m leaving” you said, grabbing your things and heading for the door.

He called your name but you ignored him, you almost got to his front door when he grabbed your upper arm.

“Let go!” you shouted, snatching your arm from his hold.

“Please, just leave me alone” you cried as you walked out of the house and headed for the uber you sneakily called while he was still in the shower.

As the uber drove away, you saw a confused and hurt Anakin standing in his driveway.

You put your head in your hands and cried…

It needed to be done.

It had to.

_________________________________________

A few months later

The early autumn air nipped at your skin as you haistilly exited the rowdy club. You shivered and crossed your arms after checking the time.

10:34 pm

You had only gotten to the damn club 30 minutes ago and you already wanted to leave. You and some friends had gone out to reward yourselves for a hard week (and to hopefully get your mind off of your ex).

Some guy in the club had gotten a little too handsy fior your comfort- he attempted to put his hand up your dress and grope your breasts while you were just leaning over the bar to order another drink. You slapped him across the face and made your way outside to get some air.

You wanted to leave; as you stood by the curb you felt the familiar sting of tears pricking at your eyes.

Fuck.

The sensation of alcohol warmed your tummy and clouded your thoughts. Warm, strong hands protecting you from any other man who dared to look at you. Fierce blue eyes warding off any unwanted attention-

No.

You physically shook your head and opened your phone to distract yourself. There was no fucking way you were thinking about him right now. You scrolled to your uber app and looked up rates for a ride back to your apartment.

$40, $35, $47, $32, $43

The rates were through the roof, no way you were going to pay that just to get a few blocks home.

Almost instinctively, your hands moved so that your thumb was shivering over Anakin’s number.

What were you doing?!

You were about to swipe off when you realized: you weren’t willing to take an expensive uber, but you also didn’t want to walk that far in heels and at night. Maybe you should call him… at least you know him and he does owe you a favor anyways.

Fuck it.

You unblock and dial his number.

Ring…

Ring…….

Ring………..

Voicemail.

You groaned. You knew very well what he was doing- he was making you call several times so that you would look desperate. He loved doing that shit. You dialed again.

Ring…

Rin-

“Hey sweet thing, finally came to your senses?” he said, smugness dripping off his every word.

“Anakin- please come pick me up” you sniffed.

“And why would I do that? Why would I do you a favor after you’ve been such a bra-”

“Ani- someone tried to touch me- I wanna go home” you cried.

The other end of the phone went silent. Anakin’s eye began to twitch and his grip on the phone tightened.

“Where?” he gritted out.

“What? I’m on fourth street, over by the old mill-”

“Where did he touch you?” he interrupted.

You took a breath- maybe you shouldn’t have called Anakin, you knew he was going to cause a scene- but at the same time a dark part of you wanted him to become violent with his passion for you.

“He put his hand up my skirt and started groping my breas-”

“I’m on my way” is all he said before finally adding-

“That fucker is dead.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, Ani was coming.

___________

Anakin’s knuckles were a fiery red as he dealt several blows to the man who had dared to touch his girl. His vision clouded by rage and hatred; how dare someone try to touch what was his.

Sure, you were broken up (or so you thought); but anakin saw it as just a small break- You were getting back together- he knew it.

All he was waiting on was your call.

Once he was satisfied, he stood up and shook the blood off of his hand. He looked over his work; the man’s face wa bloodied and his lip was cracked (there was also possibly a tooth missing but Anakin didn’t really give a fuck).

He leaned over and spat, “Don’t ever touch someone who isn’t yours again”.

He made his way through the crowd of stunned onlookers who all began to back away from him as he headed towards the bathroom. Once he got there, everyone stepped out and allowed him to walk in with no hesitation (They didn’t want to get on his bad side in any shape or form).

He leaned on the sink and examined the cut on his cheekbone.

Whatever.

He turned on the faucet and washed the blood from his hands; no need for his beautiful girl to see the blood of a fucking perv.

He dried his hands and exited the building to collect you from outside the building.

You stood there, arms crossed, his jacket draped over your shoulders: his Angel.

“Hey, sweetheart” he called in a soft voice as he put his arm around you.

You looked at him with big eyes.

“Are you alright?” He kissed your forehead.

You nodded and hugged him closer to you.

“It's all taken care of, let's get you home”

______

“I knew you’d come back” he broke the silence in the car (well, the radio was on- but you hadn’t spoken since he left the club).

“Anakin, can we please not talk about this right now? '' you said quietly.

He glanced at you and put a tender hand on your thigh.

“Angel, these past few weeks without you have been hell… I’m sorry for how I acted- I love you”.

You knew this was just another way he was trying to manipulate you- he definitely don’t attempt to better himself, but you couldn’t help but indulge him- after all… you missed him too. You placed one of your hands on top of his and met his eye.

“Ani- will you take me to your’s?” you asked shyly, as if you hadn’t spent countless nights in his bed.

He smiled and rubbed his hand along your leg, “Of course darling”.

“Maybe I can help relieve some of your stress too,” he added with a deeper tone.

You mentally sighed- of course he wanted that; but you also wouldn’t mind having him near you again, so you politely nodded with a smile.

He squeezed your thigh, “That’s my girl, I knew you couldn’t quit me that easy”

You turned your head to look out the window at the bright city once more… He was right- you just couldn’t quit him.

***

Once again anakin is completely fucked up in this fic- pls dont romantiscice this behavior in real life... other than that- I hope you enjoyed the fic lmfaooo. I haven't really written ani as an actually problamatic character before, its mostly just like rude or grumpy ani lmfao. but ty for stopping by!!

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roanniom · 2 years

Text

The Shift

Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Read Part 2 Here

Summary: On a sweltering shift at family video, Steve Harrington gets on your nerves.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, Smut, fingering, dirty talk, grinding, PIV sex, semi-public sex, light degradation, enemies to lovers, slight period-correct sexism and homophobia from a customer

It’s positively sweltering inside Family Video today. The box fan on the front counter does absolutely nothing to cool you down, especially as the tension within you runs hotter than the outside sun itself.

You shouldn’t be here. Today was your day off and you’d had plans with your friends for a pool day to beat the heat, knowing that today was forecasted to be the hottest of the year so far. Instead, you’ve been roped in to cover for Robin. And as much as you love her, part of you kinda secretly hopes she chokes on the milkshake she’s probably enjoying on her date right about now.

You don’t really want her to choke of course. You’ve been hyping her up for her eventual first date with Vicki for a long time now. It warms your cold, dead, perennially single heart to see your friend getting something she’s really wanted. Something she never thought would happen for her, especially not in Hawkins, Indiana.

But Hawkins, Indiana is exactly where you wish you weren’t right now. You’d rather be somewhere cool. Somewhere with ice and a breeze and fresh air.

Somewhere without Steve Harrington.

“You’ve been hogging the fan all day, trainee. Come on, give another sweaty bastard a turn.”

Speak of the devil.

You turn and glare directly into the face of your nemesis. Okay, nemesis is a little bit of an exaggeration. You aren’t mortal enemies, perhaps, but you would love to smack his smug face. Just once.

“For the last time. Stop calling me that. I have been working here almost as long as you,” you huff, not bothering to move an inch out of the radius of the fan.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I am the one who trained you. Making you - eternally - my trainee,” Steve responds, elbowing his way around you and into the line of semi-cool air.

“I was literally hired a month after you.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I showed you the ropes.”

“Only because the manager spent the night passed out in the ditch behind the liquor store.” You finish reboxing your last rewound tape, clicking it closed with a definitive snap.

“Hey. Jessie’s doing really well in rehab these days. Give him a break.” Steve pulls the stocking cart up and around to the counter and reaches for the tapes you’d just stacked. You yank them away from his grasp and haul them over to the cart yourself.

“And by ‘showed you the ropes’ are you referring to the fact that you broke the label maker in front of me and taught me how to get free snacks out of the break room vending machine?” You start pushing the cart towards the comedy section, not bothering to wait for Steve’s response.

“Hey! You should be thanking me for every bag of Reese’s Pieces I see you scarfing each day.” Steve comes up jogging behind you, grabbing the copy of Weird Science out of your hand before you can shelve it.

“Shut up, Harrington. As if you aren’t slamming M&M’s by the bushel.” You try to reach for the tape but he holds it up out of your reach. Damn his stupid height.

“Don’t you dare act like M&M’s aren’t the superior candy.”

“They melt in your hand - ,”

“So do Reese’s Pieces!” Steve cries out, interrupting you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Steve. I forgot that a handful of goopy M&M’s are what helped E.T. assimilate to this planet,” you say, rolling your eyes and abandoning Weird Science to his grasp. Let him shelve the damn thing. You move on to the next aisle.

Steve, of course, follows behind.

“You and that stupid little alien.” Which of course makes you round on him, to which he throws Weird Science up in front of himself as a shield.

“E.T. is a seminal piece of filmmaking and Spielberg’s best work to date, so don’t you get started again -,”

“Oh bullshit. His best work?” Steve’s brow is furrowed darkly as if you’ve committed some irredeemable act instead of simply disagreeing with his film opinions.

“Um, excuse me? A little help here?” The voice of Ms. Jenkins, elderly and snippy, issues from the front counter where she stands with a handful of tapes. You give Steve a mean look and bound over to your solitary customer.

“Yes of course, let me ring you up, ma’am,” you say sweetly, making quick work of checking to make sure the tapes are rewound before scanning and reading off the total to her. You always have to double check that tapes are rewound because you sure as hell can’t be certain that Steve has done his job when that particular chore is on his list of responsibilities.

By the time Ms. Jenkins is out the door with her rentals, Steve’s pushed the cart to the shelves closest to the counter, lazily fingering the spines of the horror tapes in a bored pursuit of a particular alphabetic location.

“Jaws.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said Jaws.”

“What about Jaws?” you ask with a sigh, leaning your hip against the counter and crossing your arms.

“Spielberg’s best movie.”

“Grow up, Harrington.”

“Excuse me?!” Steve drops the tape he’s holding and rushes over to you with fists raised. “Are you suggesting there’s something childish about enjoying Jaws?”

“Maybe,” you shrug, noncommittal. You don’t actually believe that, you just have found yourself in this rhetorical hole with Steve before and you don’t really want to get into an actual discussion. That and you love riling him up. It’s easier than committing to a movie to pop into the vcr above the counter and just as entertaining.

“You…I just…ughh.” Steve seems at a loss for words as he grapples with your vague criticism as if it isn’t the thousandth time you’ve had this argument. “That movie is a mature, grown up cinematic masterpiece and I can prove it. Number one,” he holds up one finger. “It is gory as hell. There’s a fuck ton of blood.”

“Violence is your evidence of maturity, Harrington?”

Steve scoffs at you and lifts up a second finger.

“Number two, the score is iconic.” He hunches a little and starts stalking towards you slowly, predatorily. “Duuun uh, duuun uh, dun uh dun uh dun uh - ,”

“I know the score, Steve!” you speak over his crescendoing vocalization.

“Come on! That’s iconic!” You roll your eyes but nod.

“I mean yeah. You got me there.”

“Ahah!” Steve punches the air as if he’s one some massive victory rather than simply receiving your noncommittal agreement on one part of a larger argument. He holds up a third finger. “And to round us out with number three - tits.”

Exactly as he says ‘tits’ - proudly and loudly, you notice - an elderly gentleman walks into the store. He freezes in the doorway looking at the two of you, clearly affronted.

“Good afternoon, sir! Let us know if you need any help!” you hastily speak up, distancing yourself from Steve and plastering on a huge smile. The man harumphs and walks into the store, grumbling something about ‘kids these days.’ You turn and shoot daggers at a sheepish looking Steve.

“Tits? Really?” Your whisper comes out poisonous.

“What’s more mature than tits?” he asks, equally hushed.

“Obviously not you, moron.” You start making your way back to the cart but stop in your tracks, thinking. Instead, you turn back and whisper to him. “Wait…when are there tits in Jaws?”

~*~

Ten minutes later, after the disapproving customer had checked out, copy of Cocoon in hand (a little on the nose, something you tried not to laugh about as you rang him up), you and Steve both stand huddled near the tv hooked up to the VCR.

You’re watching the opening sequence, where two teens are giving each other eyes across the way at a bonfire party. It’s charged. It’s flirtatious. The girl gets up and heads towards the beach, the guy following in hot, drunken pursuit.

It’s a cute moment. A calm before the storm, you think, because of course you know better. You know what’s going to happen in just a few moments. But suspended in time, this couple’s cat and mouse game is sexy. It’s playful.

It’s not the point of the scene, but you feel yourself getting riled up. Not exactly turned on but…what’s the word? Yearning? Pathetic. It’s been a little too long since you’ve gotten any and the heat is getting you your head, you reason with yourself internally.

As the girl gets closer to the water she begins discarding her clothes in preparation for what everyone knows will be her final skinny dip. As she does so, Steve hurtles forward and hits the pause button, freezing her perfectly in time as her shirt comes over her head revealing the silhouette of heavy breasts, mid swing.

“Tits!” Steve cries out, pointing directly at the revealed breasts on screen. “I fucking told you.”

“What do you want, Steve? A cookie?” You make sure your face stays neutral. You don’t want to give away the fact that the sexual implications of the scene have you all hot and bothered. Harrington doesn’t deserve that information.

“You said there weren’t any tits in Jaws.”

“I asked when were there tits in Jaws. I apologize that a pair of movie breasts didn’t imprint chemically in my brain the way they did for you.”

“I’m sorry. When did the prude switch shifts with the trainee? I didn’t get the memo.” Steve says haughtily, ejecting the tape from the VCR and putting it back in its case. Your jaw drops at his words but he pays you no mind, walking back to reshelf the movie. You run after him.

“I’m not a fucking prude, Harrington.”

“Oh I know you’re not. That’s what I’m getting at.” Steve slots Jaws back in its place and heads back towards the break room.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you demand, hot on his trail.

“I’m at the same parties you go to, trainee. I’m not blind. You like to have a good time.” He shrugs, walking up to the beaten old vending machine. It’s much hotter here in the back room than it was out on the main floor, probably due to the lack of windows and fans. Steve kicks the corner of the vending machine and raps his knuckles against the side panel before reaching to type the code for the M&M’s. You lunge forward and beat him to it, slamming your finger down on a different button. “Fuck! Seriously?!”

“You’re really going to slut shame me? Here at work?” You ask, snatching the packet of Reese’s Pieces as it falls into the dispenser tray.

“The pot is very much calling the kettle black here, don’t you think?” Steve kicks the corner of the machine and taps the side again, but instead of beeping in recognition, the machine stays dormant. You pop a candy in your mouth smugly as Steve grunts in frustration.

“I’m not the whore of Hawkins, Harrington. But that might be a title with which you can identify.”

“Nice alliteration, brainiac.” Steve kicks the machine harder this time. Clearly with more malicious intent towards the hulking appliance rather than with the strategy of overriding the payment mechanism.

“You know about alliteration? You didn’t skip that lesson in English class to fondle a bimbo under the bleachers?” You pop another candy in your mouth and fan yourself. The heat is starting to get to you. It is suffocating in this room. Your collar is stuck to your neck and you grab at the front of your shirt, billowing it out to try and stimulate an internal breeze. You look up and find Steve staring at the place where your hand pulls at your clothes, but he’s quick to look away, shoving a hand through his messy hair.

“Oh yeah? I’m not the one pushing my tits together whenever a slightly attractive guy comes in. I swear I saw you almost put your hand down the pants of that ex-football loser who came in here looking for fucking Flash Gordon for the tenth time.”

You gasp at his audacity. Because how dare he say that to you but also because it is objectively untrue. You had lightly flirted with the man, sure. You were bored and he had broad shoulders. Sue you. But Steve has no right to any sort of commentary.

“I’m sorry Mr. This-way-to-the-romance-section-and-while-we’re-at-it-why-don’t-you-come-watch-it-at-my-place Harrington. A blonde with big boobs so much as thinks about walking in here and your eyes are popping out of your head and your tongue is trailing on the floor.”

“You’re using the description of a horny cartoon character to describe me? Nice. Real nice.” Steve bangs on the side of the machine with his fist one more time and you let out a groan.

“Stop beating up the vending machine, for fuck’s sake. Here!” You reach into your pocket and grab a dollar, thrusting it into his face. Steve swats your hand away.

“I have money, trainee.” He reaches into his own pocket and fishes out a dollar which he proceeds to jam unceremoniously into the slot.

You drop yourself into one of the seats at the lunch table and grab for a magazine to fan yourself with.

“Well if you’re so loaded, why are you always stealing snacks?”

Steve ignores you, punching in the correct code this time. When another packet of Reese’s Pieces drops instead of the M&Ms he’d asked for, he lets out massive cry of frustration.

“What the fuck?”

“Well that’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all day,” you say, crossing your arms in your seat and biting your lip to keep from smiling widely.

“What the FUCK!”

“Maybe it’s karma, for being such an asshole to me,” you shrug. Steve whips around, shooting you daggers.

“I’ve had it about up to here with you today, trainee.” He stalks over to the water cooler and rips out a little cone paper cup, accidentally pulling out three too many in the process. You continue fanning yourself with the magazine languidly.

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry dad.”

Steve actually barks a laugh at that and looks at you over his shoulder, filling the paper cup with room temp water.

“You’re not the first to make that association.”

“Oh gross, Harrington. I didn’t ask for insight into your sex life,” you pretend to gag.

Steve knocks back the water and crushes the paper cone in his fist, tossing it over his shoulder as he goes to join you at the table. You are positively irked to notice that he makes it perfectly into the trash without even looking.

“That’s not what I meant but I’m not opposed to being called daddy, fyi,” he says, winking at you.

“I’m sure you’re not. Seems right up your alley.” Your words are derisive but you can’t help the breathless quality they take on. It must be a side effect of this fucking heat. You’re not taking in air properly.

“Yeah? Well I’ll bet you’re really mean between the sheets.”

“Oh you’ll bet that?” you ask with a snort, trying to ignore the paradoxical shiver that runs through your body at the implication.

“Yeah. You seem to derive a sick pleasure from giving me a hard time. Wouldn’t be shocked if insults turn you on.”

“Not a super fan of being degraded, Steve. Sorry to burst your bubble,” you reply lightly. Like his suggestion didn’t just add a palpitation to your heart beat. Steve bites his lip contemplatively.

“Well I really meant that I think you like being the one to dish out the insults,” he clarifies. But then he’s leaning closer to you across the table, a smirk spreading across his face as he takes in the way your posture is scrunching defensively. “But actually now that I think of it…I feel like you probably would like being degraded.”

“Excuse me?” you exhale sharply, realizing you’d been holding your breath as his proximity increased.

“You’re a perfectionist. A good girl, or you are most of the time, as we’ve established.” Steve’s finger slides across the table towards you and your gaze locks on its approaching motion. “I could see you looking for an excuse to let go of all that pressure. To be bad.”

You’ve stopped breathing again, mesmerized by his slow words and the trajectory of his sliding finger. Then suddenly he’s reaching out and snatching the half empty bag of Reese’s Pieces from your grasp, upending it in the air above his face and crunching down on the remaining candy.

“Hey!” you cry out, lunging for him only to be stopped by his defensive hand outstretching and catching you, holding you an arm length away. Steve makes a face.

“It’s a crime that this is peanut butter instead of chocolate.”

You grab him by the front of the shirt and get very close to him, glaring up into his stupid, pretty face.

“You’ll pay for that, Steve Harrington.”

“Yeah? How?” he asks. His eyes are looking down into yours, the remnants of his smirk slowly fading from his face. The heat is sweltering. Hotter than it’s been during your entire shift and you really should run out the front door for some air before you pass out but…you’re rooted to the spot.

You inhale in order to respond - not even sure of what you’ll say once the words start flowing - but you’re immediately interrupted by the ding of the bell on the front door.

“Hello? Anybody here?”

The customer’s voice cuts through the tension between you and you let go of Steve’s shirt like it’s on fire.

“Just a minute!” you call out in your sing-song-y customer service voice. You hear Steve groan behind you but you don’t give him a second thought as you dash out onto the floor of the store.

The same grumpy man from earlier stands at the counter, grumpier than ever and brandishing his tape towards you.

“I got all the way home just to realize that the wrong tape is in this blasted box.” He wrenches open the case for Cocoon to reveal a copy of Tootsie. You try not to laugh at his absurdly wounded expression and grab the tape from him.

“I am so sorry, sir, we’ll get this sorted for you,” you assure, turning around to let out a silent chuckle. You shuffle through the bare tapes on the counter and find the correct one, silently cursing Steve for his disorganization.

“This is unacceptable, young lady,” the old man grumbles as you put the Cocoon tape in its box.

“Everyone makes mistakes, unfortunately.”

“I expect a higher quality of service. I fought on D Day, you know.”

“We did not know that, thank you for your service,” Steve mumbles sarcastically coming up beside you behind the counter. The man doesn’t catch his facetiousness and wags a fervent finger.

“That’s right. I should be treated with some respect.”

“Without a doubt,” Steve replies. You silently snap the tape box closed and hand it over, trying not to look annoyed.But the man doesn’t take it from you. Instead he points over at the stack of tapes where you had placed the copy of Tootsie.

“She tried to give me a movie with a man in a dress,” he accuses and you scoff. Steve glances over, clocking which movie it is and no doubt realizing that the mistake was his own.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, she was doing you a favor, because Dustin Hoffman is just a delight - ,”

“As her manager, I think you should fire her,” the man interrupts Steve.

“Excuse me?” you ask, shocked at his audacity. Steve holds his hands up in a time out symbol.

“First of all, I’m not her manager, and second of all. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“She gave me a fruity movie!” the man cries out.

“Ok then,” you push away from the counter and head towards the back room, completely done with this interaction.

“Sir, fruit is delicious,” Steve argues, distracted as he watches you stalk off to the back, anxious to follow. The old man wags his finger even more violently.

“I’ll be telling the owner, just you wait. Do you take me for a fruit, young man?” he raises his voice.

“Yeah a raisin, sir. Please get out of my store.” Steve’s voice lowers in tone, but the authority in it increases tenfold. “Now.”

~*~

Steve finds you pacing around the break room, a paper water cone crushed in your hand. He approaches to comfort you, but the second he enters, you round on him.

“How could you do that to me?”

“Do what? Defend you?” Steve’s bewildered by your reaction, hands up in the air in front of himself defensively.

“I wouldn’t need defending if you weren’t such a fuck up at your job, Steve.” You flail a hand in the direction of the front counter.

“You said it yourself that everyone makes mistakes.”

“I was lying, Harrington. I don’t make mistakes. You make enough for the both of us.” You go to turn away from him but he grabs your elbow.

“Oh what, and you’re Ms. Fucking Perfect? Huh?” You wrench your elbow out his grasp.

“In comparison to you? Hell yeah.”

“That’s rich,” Steve barks out a laugh, running a hand through the hair at the back of his head. His stance squares off with you and he too points out toward the front counter. “How many times have I had to save you from customers who are asking for films you’ve never fucking heard about?”

“Shut up, Steve,” you roll your eyes and Steve gets more emphatic.

“How many times have I had to come stop some creep who’s being weird to you?”

“Oh fuck you. My hero. My white knight, scaring away the big bad men,” you say in a mocking tone. You cross your arms over your chest and for the first time since walking into the back room Steve notices that you have unbuttoned a large portion of the top buttons on your shirt, probably due to the heat. With your arms folded over your chest, he can see your cleavage and he swallows. You notice and drop your arms with a scoff. “You fucking pervert. You’re no better than the rest of them!”

“What? What?!” Steve blusters, trying to play off the fact that you caught him staring.

“You’re a fucking horn dog, that’s what.”

“Oh please.” He turns around with a dismissive laugh and you step forward to follow him, staying in his space.

“You know what I think? I think the reason you give me a hard time is because I never gave you the time of day,” you declare, putting your hands on your hips. The heat is rising within you now. The air is stifling and electric around you as Steve takes an angry step closer to you and you feel crackling as if you’re in the middle of a heat lightning storm.

“Well you’re way off base with that theory, trainee,” Steve bites out. He’s smirking at you. Goddamn smirking at you as if he’s got the upperhand in spite of what you’ve just accused him of.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because I know you asked Robin if I was single when you first started working here,” he says smugly. He folds his arms across his own chest now and you curse your fucking eyes because they widen while taking in the way his biceps now look. Large and defined as his sleeves shift up.

“So? That doesn’t prove anything. Maybe I just wanted to know if you were cheating on a girlfriend with all the flirting you insist on doing,” you manage to reply coolly. But Steve’s shaking his head before you even finish your statement.

“I believe your words were - and I quote - ‘Is Steve single? Because he’s hot as fuck. I’d let that boy bend me over the break room table’.” His voice takes on a high pitched mocking quality as he approximates your tone.

Your eyes blow wide and your jaw drops to the floor.

“Robin, that bitch.”

“Don’t blame Robin for your horny fantasies, trainee.” He’s got a smile on his face that you just want to slap off. Your fingers flex at your sides but you hold yourself back, taking a deep breath.

“Then you don’t blame her for the fact that she told me you get a semi every time I wear these jeans?”

Steve’s eyes practically bug out of his head and dart down to look at the jeans in question. You quirk an eye up, your turn to smile.

“I - what? No!”

“So she lied? This doesn’t do it for you?” you ask, turning slightly and leaning on the back of a chair so that your ass stuck out a little, accentuating your curves. Steve’s gaze drops to your ass before pinballing all the way around the room, desperately looking at anything and everything other than you.

“That’s not…you’re full of…”

“No, you’re full of it, Harrington. Admit it,” you say, straightening up and pointing at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says, standing a little straighter and looking at you now that you’re no longer presenting your ass to him.

“You find me irresistable,” you accuse. Steve laughs loudly and without humor.

“And yet here I am. Perfectly capable of resisting,” he says, standing his ground. “Meanwhile you’re practically throwing yourself at me.”

“You fucking wish!”

“In your dreams.”

“In my nightmares.”

The next few seconds seem to play out, paradoxically, both sped up and in slow motion. The heat fills the space around you, almost thick enough to cushion the air. And then Steve’s body is hurtling towards yours. Or yours towards his - you can’t be sure. All you are aware of is movement and then contact. The woosh of air and then the solidness of impact.

Steve’s hands are on your waist, pulling your body against his as his lips crash against yours. Your hands are in his hair before you can even think about it, your movements automatic and entirely involuntary as far as you’re concerned. Fingers fisting in his locks you kick yourself internally because they feel exactly like you thought they would. Fucking pretty haired pretty boy.

His tongue is at the seam of your lips, forcing your mouth open ruthlessly and you comply, allowing him to sweep inside. Steve turns his head to the side, deepening the kiss and pushing down into you until you feel yourself being folded back, his hand sliding to your tailbone to support you through the dip.

When he pulls away, both of you gasping for air, he doesn’t move far, instead dipping to suck biting kisses against your throat.

“You gonna tell me to stop?”

His words don’t make any sense as they enter your hazy brain. One of your hands drops to his shoulder, grasping. Clinging really as he delivers a particularly rough suck to the place beneath your ear.

“W-what?”

“If you hate me so much this must be torture for you,” he breathes into your skin. The smugness has returned to his voice, muted though it is against your throat.

“I fucking hate you, Harrington,” you seethe. He’s laughing now against your throat.

“I know, that’s what I just said - ,”

You cut him off by roughly grabbing him by the hair and bringing him back to your lips. The moan he looses into your mouth has you humming with a satisfaction that seeps deep down into your core. He’s not getting the upper hand so easily. Not if you have anything to say about it.

Now on a single-minded mission to ruin him, you reach down and splay your hand out against his lower back, rolling your hips forward in tandem with the motion in order to grind your pelvis against his. He lets out a groan that you feel in your extremities, so you repeat the move.

Suddenly the hands that are on your waist drop to your hips and wrench you around so your back is to him. The twirl disorients you and you gasp, blinking at the back of the break room and panting as Steve’s hands pull you back - ass against his pelvis.

He slaps a hand on the back of your thigh - making you whine - and slides up your curve to grip a handful of your ass.

“I’ll be the bigger person,” he says with a heavy chuckle into your ear. “I can admit these jeans do it for me.”

A laugh rocks through your body in spite of yourself.

“Oh yeah? They giving you a semi?” you ask jokingly. Steve pulls you back against him, hips bracketing your ass, and you feel him pressing into you. Hard. Nothing semi about it.

“What do you think?” His voice is gruff now, his lower half grinding slowly, deliberately into yours.

“I think you’re hard,” you say on an exhale. His laugh is full throated and his grip on your hips tighten.

“Very observant, trainee. A+ work.” His face buries itself into the crook between your neck and shoulder, lips toying with the skin there.

“Don’t call me trainee.” Your voice is breathless but for once there is no menace in it when you say the sentence you’ve yelled at him a million times.

“No? What should I call you then?” His lips are at your ear. His fingertips dig into your hips and push you back into him. Making you feel him. “Baby? Darling?”

You let out a gasping laugh when he bucks into you from behind, knocking you off balance a bit so you have to lean forward and grasp the edge of the table. He follows you down, chest still against your back.

“...slut?”

You’d love it if your response was to laugh in his face. To pry his hands off of you, straighten up your clothes, and walk out the door. But that’s not what happens.

You moan.

He says the word and you moan.

It’s dark and filthy and you feel hot shame the minute it issues from your mouth, but the way his fingers tense immediately has got heat pooling directly between your thighs.

“Holy shit.”

“I…that doesn’t…”

“Holy shit!” His words are laughing and victorious and he’s nuzzling his face over your shoulder even as you try to crouch away. “I fucking called it.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” you argue, even as your back arches slightly and find yourself rocking back into him. His hand slides over the slope of your hip to the front of your jeans.

“You moaned, trainee. I called you a slut and you moaned.” Steve’s hand cups your mound then, middle finger pressing up into the center seam of your jeans.

“F-fuck…” You swivel your hips to grind down into his hand, suddenly getting a taste of the friction you’d begun to crave.

Steve uses his hand between your legs to ground you against him, giving him leverage with which to rub his hard-on directly into your ass.

“You can lie all you want. Calling you a slut is making you writhe for me…like a cute little slut.”

You huff out an exhale and look over your shoulder at him.

“Is it the word or the fact that you’re practically fingering me through my jeans and humping me? Which is it, Steve?”

His cocky smile only widens and he shoots forward to steal a kiss over your shoulder since you’re looking at him.

“Both?”

“Oh christ, Harrington…” you trail off as his hand slides up and starts opening your jeans.

“You do have a point though…” he says, biting his lip in concentration. He yanks your jeans down over your ass, leaving them bunched around your knees. His hand cups you through your underwear before yanking them to the side, fingers sweeping directly over your wet slit as you shiver. “Through the jeans wasn’t that efficient.”

“Pretty boy worries about efficiency?” you ask derisively. His finger has found your clit with no problem and your knees are feeling weaker by the second, but you definitely aren’t going to go easy on him.

“Being pretty isn’t the only thing I’m good at, you know,” he says with humor. You find the wherewithal to reach back and peel his other hand off your hip, bringing it to close around your breast. Steve intakes breath sharply.

“Same,” you reply with a smirk. He gropes you experimentally through your shirt before rooting underneath the hem to find your bra-clad breast.

“So you think you’re pretty?” he taunts.

“You do.”

“I think you’re pretty or I think I’m pretty?” Steve asks, pulling your breast out of the cup and pinching your nipple just as he sinks a finger into your pussy.

“Fuck…the first one…both…just shut up,” you grit out and arch your back.

“I knew you’d been mean to me,” Steve quips before sinking his teeth lightly into your shoulder.

“Steve, do you want to fuck me?” you ask, voice tinged with annoyance. His head shoots over your shoulder to try and get a look at your face.

“I can fuck you?” He sounds like an enthusiastic puppy dog and your heart lurches in spite of itself.

“Not if you keep making fun of me, you can’t,” you say, though there’s humor in the words.

“Ahh, you can dish it but you can’t take it. I get it. That’s cool.” Steve’s tone is casual. The exact opposite of his actions as he slowly adds another finger into your dripping channel. You keen forward, both from the force of the pleasure and from the way your reaction makes him grind his dick even harder against your ass.

“Um…Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“So…are you going to fuck me?”

Your question makes him laugh and has his hips stuttering against you.

“Eager to make the fantasy of me bending you over this table a reality?”

“No. Eager to fast forward to the part where you wake up having creamed your pj’s thinking of me,” you retort, this time with a massive smile on your face as you recall the story you’d been told about Steve’s wet dreams. Steve groans.

“Fucking Robin,” he says, letting go of your breast to reach down and open his own pants.

“She’s the worst,” you agree. The anticipation is mounting and sweat drips off your brow. You’d down on your elbows now, bent over the table, and you can’t see Steve behind you, but you can hear the rustle of clothing. He yanks your jeans and underwear down to your ankles suddenly and you yelp and he nudges your thighs open so your legs are spread hip-width apart.

You wait a few breathless heart beats until the sound of skin on skin - which does not include your own - has you looking over your shoulder.

Steve is standing behind you, his own pants pooled at his feet, with his cock in his hand. He’s gripping it, giving it long, slow strokes as his eyes hungrily consume your half-bare body.

“I…think you might kill me,” he says seriously, dragging his eyes up from your pussy to your face. You gesture down to the cock he is fisting, eyeing the size.

“Back at you.”

He laughs at your response and heat rushes through you at how beautiful he looks with the smile cracking his face wide. You want him. Now.

So you turn back around and bend yourself over the table again, shifting side to side to sway your ass at him enticingly.

Steve’s on you not even a second later. His hands smooth over your hips and waist and his cock slides between your legs, between your folds.

“Holy shit. Holy shit.” He’s repeating the phrase over and over under his breath and you’d laugh but you’re feeling similarly speechless. Impatient now, you reach back and take his cock in your hand, making him hiss. You arch and lean forward, guiding his tip into you until his hands grip your hips and he steps forward, slipping in inch by inch.

“Oh fuck,” you both swear, practically in unison. Steve remains still for a second to let you adjust, and also to ground himself as he takes in all of what is happening in this moment.

You find yourself nearly shaking from the feel of him inside you. He feels so good and it’s been a long, empty summer so far. Of course you’re horny, you reason with yourself in your head as you shift forward, trying to entice him to move, which he does. He’s hot and you’re horny and and it feels good. It feeels good.

“Yeah? Feels good?”

Shit. You’ve been speaking your thoughts out loud. You go to contradict him - to take it back - but then he’s kissing your neck and you can’t help but hum.

“Yeah. It’s good.”

He finds a steady pace before the his words return again, this time more hoarse than before.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he groans out, thrusting into you particularly hard. Feeling sweat slick your skin you laugh.

“It’s because there’s no fan in here.”

“Oh, she’s shy about compliments suddenly,” Steve intuits and you roll your eyes, though he can’t see it. “She knows she’s hot but doesn’t want me to point it out?”

“Steve…” you warn, but there’s little else you can do as he reaches a hand down to the apex of your thighs and starts fingering your clit. You grip numbly at the table.

“Yeah, baby? You want me to stop talking about your incredible body?” he teases, his other hand coming down flat over your back to push you further down into the table before reclaiming your hip. “How good it feels to be inside you?”

“You’re a cocky bastard,” you say, but it comes out in a whine. You’re record-breakingly close to cumming and your brain and body seem disconnected. Unsure of what to do about the short circuiting feeling of shame and pleasure and annoyance and fondness, all of which are completely Steve’s fault.

“You’ve got that right, sweetheart,” he responds, inhaling sharply when you clench around him in response. “What’s that? So you like being called sweetheart?”

“Mmmm,” is all you manage to moan out, though he takes it correctly as an affirmation. He has both hands gripping your waist now, allowing nothing to distract him from pounding into you, chasing his own release now while also rocketing you towards your own.

“So you do like a little sweetness after all.” It’s teasing but you’re too fucked out to care at this point. So close. So close. Steve’s kissing the spot under your ear as he slows down to fuck you harder. Deeper. “Good thing I like it sweet. That’s how I’ve always wanted to be with you, sweetheart.”

Is it cheesy? Yes. Is it something that usually would have you slapping him and walking away? Yes.

But now you’re cumming. Crying out his name as his cock slides into you, your walls bearing down and spasming around him.

You don’t even know where your orgasm ends and his begins, you’re so blinded by pleasure. But he’s shaking around you and his hips are stuttering and then his weight is pressing you into the table as he pants.

There’s a split second where your shared breathe is all you can sense. His skin on yours has you buzzing and your muscles are jelly. You don’t even have a moment to think about repercussions or right or wrong. There’s just…Steve.

And then the bell rings in the distance indicating someone has entered the front door.

“Hellooo!” Comes Robin’s sing song voice. “Do my sad single friends want to hear how my date went?”

~*~

Read Part 2 Here

Steve / Stranger Things tag list (some of these are assumptions based on your interactions with my posts about my steve fic, so sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged!): @boomhauer @asbisexualasitgets @bluetreecloud20 @flightless-b1rds let-my-ship-sail @fandomsimper @livlovelaughh @maggiemaes-stuff @adultnitemares @wonderfulw0rldx @bellaiscool @halolani supe-r-nova r4nd0mf4nd0mz25 spookyreidd cmlover101 coolestgirlhere jadenswifey22 ashleighjadecharlton everybodywantstobetouched uhcastiels monsterhighprincess99 misaamaneswifey steveharringtonsdaddy getoutandtouchtherain alexxavicry craze4bau sabrinablack194 iseultult devonisntreal navybluebitch macey730 izbot6 sweetkyotto @millenialcatlady creme-delacreme s-trawberryv-eins amatchinwater vamdevil xoxchanxl mrssharrington edwardmunsn moonyscardigans wayward-rose

#steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington fanfic #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington/reader #steve harrington/you #steve harrington x fem!reader #fem!reader

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